Urzo certainly looked human, though his rakish stature and stern features were the image of a faerie. The possibility was too tempting not to explore.

I probed, 'As I said, my knowledge stems from experience, and not from rumour. I have no doubt that the faeries wish merely to be left alone to tend the forest, and that they are plagued by many of the same frustrations that humans face.'

'It is said that four or five generations ago, there was a faerie civil war,’ Urzo replied. ‘Two factions warred over how best to tend to the forest's needs. Some felt that nature was stronger undisturbed but their opponents believed that some intervention was called for. According to the tale, the former group won the conflict and the latter group was exiled from the Forest.’ There was a fire in his eyes as he spoke.

'What became of those who were exiled?' I asked. Could they count Urzo's ancestors among their number? Had I chosen a faerie to rule over Ebonreach’s wealthiest city?

‘The tale does not say. Perhaps they now dwell in some distant land. There are rumours that their sacred relics were looted by the Vizonian Order.'

Perhaps they intermarried and interbred with the woodcutters east of Trackford, I thought. If Urzo was part-faerie, I tried to think how it might change things. The heritage was clearly so distant that he was significantly more human than faerie. If anything, his understanding of the Reach's eastern border was an asset. I decided not to press the issue any further.

Eventually it was deemed safe for us to leave. After a brief dinner at the Flea Monkey in which we touched upon the future affairs of Trackford, I retired upstairs to enjoy some well-deserved rest.

The next day I had to choose whether to return to Haelling Cove or remain at Trackford, and my decision was complicated by the arrival of news from Trent that several small bands of Tokuan raiders had remained after the departure of their fleet. The King had no men to allocate to quelling the raiders on account of the desert nomad invasion in Mattrath, and Duke Wiseria’s men were battered and distracted by a massive increase in bandtiry.

Despite the dark tidings I felt a surge of optimism. Halivaara might be disintegrating but Ebonreach was rebuilding at speed. Trackford remained intact, guided by a new ruler, and Timoth was focused on restoring the capital. A small part of me wondered if Ebonreach’s relative increase in strength would force King Degron to raise Haelling Cove to the status of a duchy.

Such considerations did not assist with my decision. There was still work to be done in Trackford, but I longed to return to Timoth and assist in the rebuilding effort. It had been too many weeks since I'd called anywhere home, and above all else I just wanted to claim a space and fill it with my belongings. I wanted to feel comfortable somewhere.

My mind abruptly turned in the direction of Hollowhold. Alum awaited me there, though my life had begun to move on without him. I hoped that he remained on the same trajectory despite my absence. I longed for the security of his presence and the comfort of his words. I was of age now, yet circumstances conspired to keep us apart. Political considerations were still a factor, of course, however I had no doubt that if Prince Alum was in Trackford with me, we would be married already.

I furrowed my brow as I considered that thought. I wanted to marry Prince Alum. Our relationship was still young, but so it was with most weddings among the nobility. As a girl, I had expected to only have met my husband once or twice prior to our wedding.

I decided on a bold new course. I instructed a messenger to take word to Timoth of the result of the trial and the seizure of Steib’s assets. Then I took the messenger aside, so that none could overhear us, and I told him to ask Timoth's permission to go to Hollowhold. I stated that my aim was to petition the King and other noblemen for men to defend Haelling Cove. I prayed that Timoth would be canny enough to take my true meaning: that I intended to continue courting the Prince until such a time as a wedding could be arranged.

It would take three or four days for Timoth's message to return, and I spent the time administering the appropriation of Steib’s possessions. It was likely that he had kept much of his wealth in his portal, but there were several warehouses in his possession that no man’s portal would have been sufficient to empty.

On one occasion I was shown a chest containing various valuable items when an earring caught my eye. It was a simple band, and some trowelling through the chest revealed its partner. I recognised them as the earrings I had gifted to the beggar at the Trackford Founding Fair. Though I had no knowledge of how they had passed into Steib's greedy hands, I was immediately angered by the discovery. I felt that he must have taken them from the beggar, though it was more likely that the beggar had sold them. I was glad that Steib was gone, for if the trial were still underway my irrational anger might have given way to the temptation to execute him.

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The days in Trackford were good for my appearance. I was able to soak in the right amount of sunlight, do the right exercises to tone my body, and trade my old riding outfit for something more modern and ladylike. My old blouse and trousers had seen me through many hours on Lilac's saddle, but they had been fitted for a smaller girl and damaged by overuse. My new purchase was of a riding habit comprised of a chemisette, white lace gloves, a skirt with a long split up the back, and a sky blue riding coat with large brass buttons. Many ladies preferred to ride sidesaddle, but the skirt’s design allowed me to sit astride the horse as I felt most comfortable doing. There was some expense in the purchase, but as nothing was tailored and I traded in my old outfit, I kept it to a minimum.

When the return messenger from Haelling Cove arrived I met him in the stables.

'Spit it out,' I commanded him, eager to know my orders after four days unoccupied in the city.

The messenger made a brief bow which tried my patience before conveying Timoth's message. 'My lady, the Count congratulates you on the conclusion of Steib's trial, and requires you to travel to Hollowhold. King Degron has seen fit to withdraw his remaining men from Haelling Cove in order to reinforce the Borderlands. Count Timoth made it very clear that your overriding purpose must be to secure more soldiers to defend Ebonreach. The Count also stated that the needs of the realm require that he not leave Haelling Cove in the coming months, and you should do nothing in the capital which would require him to travel there.’

I frowned as I took it all in. Timoth had thoughtfully congratulated me on my handling of the Steib trial, though a courier-delivered message was clearly not the best way to convey deeper political considerations. The latter portion of the message required some more thought. My overriding purpose was to secure more soldiers to defend Ebonreach? I took from those words that Timoth had understood my intention to pursue Prince Alum, but that he didn't view my journey as a holiday. Rather, it was a necessary affair of state, one in which an outcome of benefit to the Crown was required in light of the King's withdrawal of his remaining soldiers from Haelling Cove.

Yet it was Timoth's final words which embedded themselves most deeply within my mind. If he could not travel to the capital, he could not attend my marriage. Therefore, I could not be married, at least not without greatly upsetting him. I doubted that Alum would travel to Ebonreach to be married as that would exclude a large number of noblemen, not least of which were his immediate family: the King, Queen, and Prince Milos.

Nevertheless my orders were clear, as were the wishes of my heart. I summoned twelve soldiers to accompany me on my journey to Hollowhold on account of the raiders and highwaymen that plagued the eastern duchies, and I hurriedly packed my possessions for the journey. I bid Baron Urzo one last farewell, entrusting him to manage the town fairly. It was late afternoon by the time of our departure, but our horses were full of energy and I hoped that we would make good speed.

I led my companions north of the Dreadwood Forest - my need for haste was not such that I was willing to compromise safety. We spent the first two nights camped at the roadside, but as the sun fell beyond the horizon on the third night we trod the cobblestone roads of Iyasgorth. Resplendant in my new riding habit there was no hope of concealing my status, and I enjoyed the comforts of the ruling family's manor instead of having to spend the night at some small town tavern. I was wary of being delayed, and despite enjoying a veritable banquet for dinner with twenty powerful noblemen, as well as the rare indulgence of civilised conversation, I made sure to leave in the morning before they could delay my departure with the promise of breakfast.

One thing we’d discussed at dinner weighed on my mind. There was talk of the Crower succession, and several men at the table were bold enough to voice their open support for various of Wiseria's young bastards. Even those who supported Wilbern's rightful claim as heir refrained from stating a belief that he would be a good ruler. My hosts were certainly unhappy with the situation in Trent, and I did not blame them. Wiseria's indiscretion had combined with Tokuan pillaging to destabilise the Duchy. What was most chilling was the rumour that one of the bastards, a man of similar years to myself named Entregwa, was apparently amassing support in Iyasgorth itself. The thought of civil war on Trackford's doorstep made me shiver.

At the city's eastern exit I noticed a large black marquee emblazoned with the Vizonian ground-embedded sword symbol. Dozens of people had formed a queue before it, even this early in the morning. Their dirty, worn attire made me think that they had camped there overnight, and that they were all incredibly poor. Some of them pulled locked wooden chests through the mud, others clung desperately to a handful of copper coins as though they might sprout legs and run off.

I realised that they were refugees from the Tokuan raids, including some from Haelling Cove. The Vizonian Order seemed to be offering something to them, apparently in charity. I led my bodyguards closer to the marquee so that I might get a better look.

'Are you a portalmancer?' the black-robed Vizonian asked the man representing a family of six at the head of the queue. The man shook his head. 'Can you read?'

The man shook his head again. 'I was a butcher.'

The Vizonian's next question shocked me, yet he uttered it with the disinterested exasperation of one who knew that a menial task well below his abilities would comprise the rest of his day. 'Do you consent to obeying the laws of Vizonia in exchange for the charity and protection of the Order?'

The peasant sighed and his wife gripped his arm tightly. 'I do,' he murmured with obvious reluctance.

A second Vizonian appeared and immediately summoned a portal. 'One at a time,' he said, with the same detached tone his colleague had used. I sensed that they had been at this for some days. Weeks even. The first Vizonian had already begun speaking to the next refugees in the queue.

Men were leaving Ebonreach and pledging their allegiance to the Vizonian Order. Father's ancient warning still rang in my ears, and I shuddered at the notion. Was this occurring elsewhere in the scarred lands of Trent and Mattrath? What did they gain by pledging themselves to so many, most of whom had no skills?