The journey to Tidefall had been as swift as it was dull. Her father had not seen fit to visit the castles of his bannermen. Gwen didn’t mind, she had visited all those castles before, meeting dozens of young men who might have become her husband in time. They were all cut from the same cloth, desperate to show how strong they were, and their skill with the sword and lance. It grew tiresome after the hundredth showcase of some fancy sword trick they learned; it was even more tiresome when they refused to teach her how to do it. Only Luc dared to defy her mother and teach her the basics of the masculine arts.
She thought herself a quick study and a natural with a blade, once when she commented on how she could likely best her brother Edric in the training yard Luc became quite solemn.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He had said.
Gwen was confused more than once she had outplayed him with the sword and disarmed him, and by most accounts, Luc was the better sword than their brother. After some incredibly short and painful bouts, she realised that Luc had been playing with her, allowing her to land those hits without fighting back properly.
“It is not a matter of skill Gwen but of size. The gulf between you and I is far greater than that of me and Edric.”
She had given up on learning the sword, instead, she turned her energies toward the lance or bow, if her size was the issue she would turn to weapons where that did not matter. But once again she found it impossible to find any true teachers, the boys who dared show her did so only to mock her or get under her skirts. Soon enough her mother learned of these efforts and kept her busy with other lessons, so many she barely had time to eat and sleep.
The wagon bounced on unfamiliar stones and the foul smells of the swamps and marches which separated Angevain from the rest of the kingdom began to disperse. On the air, Gwen could begin to smell fresh flowers and hear fast-flowing water.
The Fang!
The wagon windows were flung open, and Gwen forced her head out of the small round opening to breathe deep. The Alderfen was a long and narrow stretch of land which followed the River Fang all the way from its beginnings in the Sky Peaks to its end at the Sea of Ice. It separated the lands of Mittenreiq and Valencour and had for years been caught up in the ancient rivalry between the two peoples. The River Fang was the largest and most populous of the northern rivers, hundreds of thousands used it for fishing, drinking, and cleaning. Even now along this road far from any town or village Gwen could see small figures splashing around in its sapphire depths.
Her Lord Father had ordered no more stops until they reached the hospitality of their kin in Tidefall. Gwen could not understand the haste, these were not dangerous lands, the Alderfen was ruled by the Swyfts of Tidefall, and the current Count-Duc was Emilian Swyft, Gwen’s uncle. They were kept well in hand by the Knights of the Swan, some of the greatest knights in the Kingdom, their deeds were legendary, and their skill and arms were second to none. Gwen had heard stories of those knights with horses that could charge over water, Ser Milo Agentus caught the rear guard of the Savage King Aethor’s host by running their horses so fast that they crossed the wide waters of the Fang without need for bridge or boat. More recently Sers’ Krest and Krone shattered the Servish Host in the Contest through sheer courage, charging down a mountain and bringing a landslide with them to wash the army into the sea. That victory secured the King’s advantage on the field at Gods Pass, where Prince Aetherion was struck down and the Astrean line of kings ended. With men such as those protecting these lands, Gwen expected the Ladies of Alderfen could walk about in nothing but their finest jewellery and not fear the thief or outlaw.
The Baron’s party trailed behind her, if she craned her neck forward, she could see her father and Captain Raine at the head of the column, behind them were members of the honour guard and then Gwendolyn and Guinevere’s wagons. Gwen had insisted on them each having their own, she did not want to suffer day after day of Neve’s ‘polite’ conversation. It was bad enough when they stopped for meals and sleep. There was no one in her wagon, save the driver ahead of her but they were separated by thin wooden walls.
Her mother had given her some tasks to do whilst on the road, knitting, sewing, and reciting poems and songs. She ignored it all in favour of reading the few books she had convinced Hedwyn to part with, they were detailed histories of the prominent dynasties of Evros. There were eight in total, and each ruled a portion of the continent of which the Sacred Seat claimed dominion.
The first recounted the Harpios of Castelmar, the Lord Superior of Servern. One of the largest lands in the Kingdom but dry and barren. The current leader was the mysterious Marquess Emile Harpio. Theirs was a lengthy chapter on the long history of the dynasty, it was the only of the remaining families that kept the culture and practices of the former Imperium which once ruled over a thousand years ago.
Next was the Courcs of Rivienne, a short chapter on the rulers of Valencour, a fertile land with a disagreeable population. The book recounted dozens of major rebellions against the ruling family over the past five hundred years, the latest being put down shortly after the ascension of Archduc Reynard Courc some ten years earlier.
Gwen skipped the chapters on Rune and Swyft, she had been given an exhaustive education on her own family and rolled her eyes at some passages written on her ancestors which were blatantly false or half-truths.
One chapter which gripped her attention was the Viscount of Mittenreiq, a title held by the Vauken family of Lonely Peak. Their ancestral castle was known only as the Nest. The Vaukens had only been Lord Superior of those lands for little over two centuries, granted the honour by Valorian the Mad. Currently they were a part of the royal household through the eldest daughter the Queen.
The Aurels of Solarhall, House of the King. Split in two after Lysanders ascent to the throne. The Royal branch resided in Valorium and ruled over the Thronelands, the other branch was headed by Royal Earl Conrad Aurel, the previous title Earl Spiritual had been changed in light of the family's new royal standing. Between them, they ruled near all the north coast of the Hellensar and the Imperial Strait.
The final chapter was on the Harkonn of Vinterheim, the rough and rowdy men and women or Fenryr. Gwen read little on the House as she couldn’t help but imagine and dead and frozen Luc arriving at the Errantry, stiff on the horse that bore him there.
She spent hours pouring through the book, recounting names and committing them to memory. It was the most up-to-date book Hedwyn had in his library, but even he cautioned that its contents may not reflect reality. Still, Gwen read and memorised praying it would help her in the capital.
The sun was dropping from the sky and bathed the sky in a pleasant red hue. As they rode along, she looked out her small window. The land was so flat she could see for miles without difficulty, the clouds kept themselves high in the sky and no tree reached higher than the height of a man. The Fang flowed slowly, and hundreds of tributaries split off from the central stream. Some were small, others were vast and competed with their parent for size and power. There was hardly a mile of river that went by without a mill churning away, most ground grain to flour, others were decidedly more industrial. Castles were built on islands in the middle of the rivers, impregnable and unsiegeable, but the river can be fierce, and Lords can find themselves trapped by the very waters which keep them safe.
Soon Tidefall came into view. One of the great castles of the Kingdom. It was constructed out of beautiful white stones, carved with breathtaking swirling patterns to honour the river it was built upon. It had been constructed upon the narrowest point of the Fang, a central island housed the inner keep and two drawbridges linked it to either bank. The Bank-Forts were castles in their own right built out of the same magnificent white stones and blue slate. The most impressive feature of the castle was the wall which had been constructed across the river itself. They joined the Bank-Forts to the central keep creating a vast castle which spanned the river. The Swyfts kept a fleet of riverboats in an internal harbour, she had wanted to tour on one as a girl, but her mother had forbidden it.
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Her father hurried the procession along when the castle came into view. Canter became a trot which threatened to turn into a full gallop. Gwen was thrown about her carriage as the wheels crossed over the cobblestones. Soon enough they had passed through the gates and Gwen poked her head out the window once more to take in the sights of the castle, see the beautiful buildings and friendly people, but her view was blocked by a red-cloaked knight, Ser Healy, a member of her father's honour guard.
“I am sorry my lady, but your father has ordered you to remain in your carriage until we enter the inner bailey.”
“Why, what worries my father so that we cross the Alderfen like bandits scurrying away with loot? I wish to see the home of my mother once more Ser.”
“I am sorry my lady, orders are orders. You are to remain.”
“That may be the case, but I will keep my head where it is and at least look.”
The winding streets of Tidefall proved harder to navigate than the long highways, her father had to slow the party down to a crawl. Gwen spied four knights surrounding her carriage and another four around Neve’s behind her. People had not come out of their homes like Gwen had hoped. It was late and the sun had dipped behind the horizon, the streets were now dark the only illumination was from the torches of the guards. Gwen heard a hard knock ahead of them and some shouting she couldn’t make out. Then the wagon was moving again knocking her back into the seat. She heard a flash of running water and barely glimpsed the gleaming waters of the Fang before they were obscured by torchlight. They had arrived at the inner bailey of Tidefall and Gwen could not be more eager to get out of the loathsome carriage.
The door flung open, and Gwen leapt out of it. Her bare legs flashed for a moment as her delicate slippers hit the ground. She nearly rolled on her ankle. She looked up and took a deep breath in, when her eyes glanced up, she saw the disapproving face of her father.
“Gwendolyn, a Lady should not be so eager to leap into the mud.”
Gwen awkwardly curtsied. “Apologies father, it was too stuffy locked up in that carriage. I needed some air.”
“I’m sure you did dear sister, but there are more refined ways to exit a carriage.” Gwen sighed loudly as she heard the voice of Guinevere from behind her.
“And who is here to watch my unrefinement in the dead of night dear sister.” In the gloom she saw the shorter Neve look up behind her, higher than their father mounted on his horse.
“Sound carries at Tidefall dear granddaughter, you would do well to remember that when making such confident statements."
Gwen was glad for the darkness, as it hid the scarlet on her cheeks. She could not see her grandmother, but she recognised the high voice and tranquil tone.
“Apologies Grandmother.”
Her father dismounted with a thud and Gwen heard his armour and weapons slap heavily against each other.
“Lady Rowena, a pleasure to see you again. I humbly ask for a night of shelter for me and my party.”
“Leofric, I did receive your letters and I sent a bird in response. It appears you did not receive it in time. You and my granddaughters will be able to rest in the keep, as to the rest of your party, they will need to bed down in the northern Bank-Fort.”
Gwen looked around at the courtyard they were standing in, it was crowded over by surrounding buildings, each one capped with a pointed roof of rich blue slate.
“Why is that, Lady?”
“Count-Duc Emilian is hosting a royal party tonight, and they have taken up much of the guest rooms.”
Gwen had hoped she would be able to bathe and go straight to her chamber to sleep off the day's rigours. Instead, after her bath an army of maids descended upon her and wrapped her head to toe in fine blue velvet chased with silver. When they finished trussing her up, they set her before a mirror and Gwen spent some time looking at the reflection. The dress she wore was long, cinched at the waist with a silver-plated belt, and a swan stitched in silver thread was ascending her torso to wrap around her neck. Once again, she frowned at her neckline which dove far too deeply into her chest.
“Come, my Lady, we must make it to supper. The prince is waiting for you.” The handmaidens giggled sweetly.
The halls of Tidefall were a joy to walk through. They were well adorned and well lit, with tapestries and paintings adorning every wall. Large arched windows let silvery beams of moonlight into the blue-carpeted halls. It was so unlike the dim gloom of Caernholm, of the gargoyles and wolf heads which butted out from the towers, from the inky blackness which no moonlight could penetrate. It almost made her forget the butterflies in her stomach, Gwen hated formal dinners.
Lady Rowena Swyft had laid out the main hall spectacularly. Smokeless flames burned at every nook and cranny, carefully placed mirrors reflected the light around the room illuminating every corner. If it wasn’t for the stained-glass window above the main dais Gwen would not have believed it was night. Despite the grandeur, few people had turned out for supper. At the lead table, Gwen recognised her family. Father in a simple red tunic made of rich fabric but otherwise unadorned. Neve sat beside him in a dress the same rich blue of her own, the difference between them one of modesty as Neve’s was clasped at the throat with two golden lions.
Her maternal family sat to the far right of them, Grandmother Rowena at the furthest corner beside her was her aunt Rosaline the eldest, and beside her was Count-Duc Emilian her uncle. He had gotten a bit taller since she last saw him, but he was still only a boy of ten and with his soft cheeks and wide eyes he looked every part the boy-lord all peasants feared. The only members of the family not in attendance were her other uncle, Finley, but he was a child too young for such things, it would be his fifth name day soon by Gwen's count.
There was only one figure sitting between them, much to Gwen’s surprise. She had expected more of the knights and lords of the royal party to be in attendance but there were not. Sat alone at the head of the table was Crown Prince Aurel. His golden hair was held back by a silver band fashioned to look like a swan, his clothing was sapphire blue quartered with royal white, and in each square was embroidery of their respective houses, a silver swan for House Swyft, and a golden tree for House Aurel. Beside him was a vacant seat, Gwen’s seat.
She stifled another sigh and tried to walk past her sister and father as gracefully as she could. It was made all the more difficult by the dragging hem of her skirt catching on every little protrusion on the floor. Eventually, she made it to her chair but before she could sit the prince stood.
“My Lady it is a pleasure to see you again so soon. I was worried it wouldn’t be until the capital that I would have the pleasure of your company once more.” Gwen held out her hand and the prince took it and placed a slight kiss on her knuckles.
“It gladdens me to see you as well your Highness.” She bowed slightly and took her seat.
“Please my Lady, call me Felix.”
“Then do call me Gwen, I find all the decorum rules so taxing.”
Felix laughed. It was short and high, like a songbird. Gwen enjoyed it. Felix cut it off quickly and looked down at his plate.
“I’m sorry if I was so stiff during the dinner at Caernholm. It was the first time my father had trusted me with… Well, anything. I was nervous and when they sat you next to me, I found the feeling only got worse.”
“There is nothing to forgive Felix. I also find formal dinners less than pleasant.”
Gwen poked at the rich food down on her plate, the silence was fast becoming unbearable.
“So wh-“ she began.
“What keeps you at Tidefall your grace, when the Duc and your uncle both continued to the capital.” Her father interrupted her, his eyes boring into the prince.
Felix cleared his throat. “Royal duties Lord Baron, the kingdom expects its heir to spend time learning all he can about it before he is to rule. And truth be told the Duc, and my uncle were unnaturally eager to return to Valorium. I did not share their enthusiasm for a hard journey south, so I have slowed and taken my time calling upon the Counts and Ducs of Alderfen, for many it is the first they have seen of royalty in decades.”
Leofric nodded slowly. “A noble idea highness, but a man of your rank should not travel unescorted.”
“I have many of my household knights with me, I chose not to bring them to sup as they have had a worse time of it than I. Being ever vigilant has its downsides I suppose.”
“Your Highness I meant that you should travel with persons of high rank, your father would not appreciate it if rumours swirled around the realm of the young prince and his retinue of knights causing trouble along the Royal Highways.”
“I feel you are about to offer me the pleasure of your company Lord Baron.” Felix glanced over at Gwen with his deep blue eyes.
“It would be for the best Highness if you joined our party, and we continued straight on to the capital.”
Gwen stifled a laugh as Felix flicked a strand of golden hair from his face and leaned back stroking his chin as if deep in thought. “I believe I will join you Lord Baron, but I don’t think I will be putting on a brutal pace. I have lived in Valorium all my life, now I am free of it I believe I will enjoy some of the country's air.” He turned to Gwen. “And if it please you my Lady, I would ride alongside you, and we can take in the sights together.”
Gwen smiled wide at the prospect of breaking free from the carriage and riding with the wind in her hair. “That would please me greatly.”