The mysterious woman guided them to a curiously small and simple table, just large enough for a modest gathering; the area was dimly lit, allowing them to see only what was directly in front of them. After seating them, she excused herself, promising to return with food soon.
“Her reaction to my answer earlier seemed quite… negative,” Julien remarked, unease creeping into his voice, “that was the first time I’ve felt genuinely uncomfortable here.”
“People fear what they don’t understand, Mazars,” Tariq replied, leaning back in his chair, “that woman’s probably never left Vasconia - maybe not even this region - and now she’s faced with an Andalusian, a Leonese, and two Francians.” He sighed. “We’d better come up with a convincing story to gain her trust, or we might not find the source of this corruption after all.”
Before they could delve any deeper into their discussion, Agerkunde returned, carrying a tray laden with small portions of food - about twelve in total - and a filled bottle: The meal consisted of simple slices of bread, topped with wild mushrooms in shades of brown, and a generous cut of cured meat resting beneath them, as if holding the dish together; The mushrooms appeared to be sizzled in butter and were garnished with thinly chopped greens and delicate white petals; The bottle she carried was filled with a murky, honey-colored liquid, and as she uncorked it, a strong scent of fresh apples filled the air.
Everything she served was devoid of any trace of corruption. Julien quickly cast Reac, his senses scanning for iric energy - but nothing. The food was as pure and untouched by corruption as it could possibly be.
As Julien pondered, a sudden realization struck him: he hadn’t sensed any iric aura around Agerkunde, not now, nor when they were in the shack. The thought made him furrow his brow, and Agerkunde immediately noticed his reaction. “Is something wrong, young man?” She asked with a semi-concerned tone, “is the food not to your liking?”
“Everything looks delicious, thank you,” Julien quickly composed himself, responding politely. And indeed, the food did look appetizing - he wasn’t lying at all.
Urraca glanced between Tariq and Julien, waiting for some kind of sign that the food was safe. Tariq’s approving nod came soon after, easing her concerns.
“So,” Agerkunde said as she poured the honey-colored liquid into their wooden cups, “what brings such a remarkable group of travelers to cross our beautiful Euskal Herria?”
Tariq opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Urraca spoke up, confidently and clearly: “My name is Urraca, from the House of Banu Gómez,” she began, “I am a bride, promised to King Sancho’s eldest son, Pedro.”
Agerkunde’s brows were now furrowed in surprise. “Isn’t the boy around ten years old now? Perhaps eleven or twelve?” She sat at the table with the others, her eyes narrowing slightly, “that’s a bit young for marriage, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m not heading to Pamplona to marry just yet,” Urraca retorted, “it’s merely to formalize the betrothal and get to know my future husband.”
“The current king of those lands also rules Aragon in a personal union,” Agerkunde replied, her tone almost casual, “from what I can tell, he’s far more interested in governing Aragon. For all we know, he could be in Jaca as we speak.”
“I find it hard to believe the king has much business down south right now,” Tariq interjected smoothly, “not while Al-Muqtadir still reigns. We were in Saraqustah not long ago, in fact, on behalf of the head of the Banu Gómez, and I’m here as an envoy and translator, for I speak all the languages of the region.”
Agerkunde’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “The kings of the North have been a bit too friendly with the ones down South, so that doesn’t surprise me in the least.” Her gaze then shifted sharply to Julien and Robert, “but you two… I’m still struggling to understand why you’re here.”
Julien, interestingly enough, had been ready for this moment: “Barbastro made many of our fellow Francians wealthy beyond their wildest dreams,” he began, “we seek similar riches. And while no major raids are taking place, we work as mercenaries. House Banu Gómez kindly entrusted me with the mission of delivering Urraca safe and sound to the court of Pamplona.”
Agerkunde appeared to accept Julien’s explanation, though something still seemed to gnaw at her. “Iberians cozying up to Arabs and Berbers is hardly unusual, oh no,” she said, her smile taking on a sly edge, “but what would Carolus the Hammer say about you Franks, mingling with someone like Tariq?”
Julien, however, didn’t miss a beat. “And what would Carolus the Great say about me now, mingling with Basques?”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
For a moment, Agerkunde’s composure faltered. Her surprise at Julien’s sharp retort was barely concealed, and for a few seconds, it seemed as though someone had cut her tongue. Perhaps for the first time since they had met her, she didn’t appear to have the upper hand. Julien felt a quiet swell of pride, knowing he had finally turned the tables on the mysterious woman seated before them, even if for a fleeting moment.
“Very well,” Agerkunde finally said, breaking the long silence as she took her first bite of food and sipped from her drink.,“you’ve sated my curiosity; now it’s time for me to sate yours - I’ll answer one question from each of you.”
Tariq was the first to speak: “It’s hard not to notice that this settlement seems fairly new,” he began, taking a bite of the food and following it with a sip of the mysterious drink, “hm, is it cider?” He commented briefly, before continuing, “have you moved from somewhere else?”
Agerkunde smiled. “Yes, it’s cider,” she confirmed, taking a sip herself, “and yes, we settled here only a few weeks ago. We came from further east, near the Pyrenees, but then…” She paused, as if carefully choosing her next words, “we had to resettle. Let’s leave it at that. We plan to return one day, however.”
Tariq frowned slightly. “Care to elaborate on that matter?”
Instead of answering, Agerkunde turned her gaze to Julien, Robert, and then Urraca, completely ignoring Tariq’s follow-up question. “Who will ask the next question?”
Julien decided to step in. “Uxue mentioned that you don’t seem particularly fond of daylight, preferring to work under the faint light of the moon. I’ve already seen some evidence of that,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his gaze steady, “why is that?”
“For safety, mostly,” she replied immediately, her tone calm, “humanity can be quite violent toward what they cannot quite grasp, you see? And many see us as such. Some still trade with us and offer help, but fearing reprisals, they prefer to do so under the cover of night. They leave us goods, and we trade or offer services in return.” She took another bite of food, smiling slightly, “you wouldn’t believe how delighted farmers are when they wake up to find a new fence built in their field overnight.”
Julien would have liked to ask why so many perceived them as ‘non-graspable’, but he knew well enough that he had used his one question. He remained silent, resisting the urge to press further.
“Maybe we should get straight to the point, and allow me to be as clear as possible, so we can avoid half-answers,” Urraca said sharply, almost impatiently as she took another sip of the cider and a bite of food, “you say you see arima around me - something you don’t see in my companions - a power that can be harnessed after some sort of ritual and training. I can understand why you’re being so kind to me, but I don’t quite fathom why you’re extending such a warm welcome to them as well. If so many are hostile toward you as you claim, which I assume is why you had to move, why do you trust them? What do you want from them?”
Agerkunde’s expression darkened. “It’s not our intention to create more enemies, young lady. We extend our hospitality to those who accept it, and your companions are more than welcome here for as long as they choose to stay.”
Julien studied her closely, searching for any trace of deception - but found none. Either she was the most skillful liar he had ever met, or she was, in truth, a matriarch who sincerely believed in the hospitality she offered.
“What about the other Frank?” Agerkunde asked, her gaze settling on Robert, “so silent… What question would you like to ask?”
“He’s not the talkative type,” Urraca interjected, “so let me ask on his behalf: Other than controlling this arima around me, are there any other benefits to harnessing it?”
Agerkunde seemed momentarily surprised by Urraca’s interruption but quickly composed herself. “Isn’t it enough to not alter this beautiful world of ours in unsavory ways?” She asked rhetorically before continuing, “but yes, there are other benefits. You can cast protective domes, like the one concealing this very settlement from prying eyes - especially at night; You could hide your own existence from others, enhance your resistance to disease, and even toughen yourself against injury. It takes months - sometimes years - of training, however. It doesn’t come as easily as it sounds.”
She stood up, taking one last bite of the food, and wiped a small line of butter from the corner of her mouth. Breathing in the crisp midnight air, she turned toward the group. “It’s been truly interesting, meeting so many new faces - from such distant places, no less. I don’t think I need to tell you how rare that is.” She began walking back to her shack. “You must be tired, so go and rest for the night. You can pitch your tent here in the settlement or find someone else’s place to stay. Tomorrow night, we’ll speak again. During the day, some of us remain awake, and a few speak Latin - if you’re fortunate, you might find one and talk.”
…
After finishing their meal and indulging in the cider, the group decided to reassemble their tent in a suitable spot within the settlement.
“I wasn’t expecting to learn much tonight,” Tariq remarked as he worked on pitching the tent, his voice slightly lighter than the new usual, “but things turned out far better than I anticipated.”
“We certainly learned a lot for a single supper,” Julien agreed, tying down the fabric, “but we still haven’t found the source of the corruption.”
Urraca, unpacking a few of their items, overheard their conversation. “In all truth, it would be nice not to have to wear these fibulae all the time,” she said, gently running her fingers over the eagle-shaped adornment, “and it would be a relief to know I’m not tainting everything around me…”
Tariq glanced her way, his voice growing firm: “They may indeed have some useful knowledge here,” he said with a note of resolve, “tomorrow, we’ll learn as much as we can about them - hopefully enough to get to the bottom of this.”
“Wait,” Urraca exclaimed, pausing in her task, “do you still plan on… getting rid of them? They’re not corrupting anything, are they?”
Tariq sighed, the weight of the situation evident in his expression. “I understand, Urraca, but you shouldn’t be naïve; Iric energy can’t be fully controlled. If anything, they’re holding it back – and in consequence making it more dangerous, whether their intentions are good or not. The last thing I want is to look back and realize I could have done something about this mess, but chose not to.”