As soon as the other visitors are out of the temple, the Templar turns to me, his lip curling in a sneer as he points me towards the main room with a dismissive nod of the head. He is an annoying and bitter old man, completely removed from the heroic tales about the guardians of humankind I grew up with, the fair arbitrators of balance in legends.
The old man applies the order's code literally when it suits him and distorts it to fit the Baron when asked, very few respect him in the community but none would speak against him. He still wears the robes of his order with pride despite his obviously low place in the order, the short sword at his side bears the golden seal of the Templars on the pommel, a stylized golden lion head.
I follow him inside the main room, mostly used for coming of age ceremonies or occasionally when a Lord's line of succession is unclear or a new subject swears allegiance, the room is used to house the ritual that binds a family's flow to the head of a family line. This ritual allows nobles to receive a small portion of their subject's flow regeneration, barely a hundredth but it does accumulate rather impressively for the more prominent nobles, it also allows the direct liege to command his subject's flow reserves if they are close enough.
The room itself is decorated with a large painting framed in gold representing the Baron's grandfather as he receives his title and land from the Duke. The previous Duke if I remember correctly and the throne room is located inside the palace in Meria, Izla Meria's capital, the largest and only city on the island. There is a single marble bust of the current Baron under the painting, I bow in front of it as is the protocol before following the Templar inside the next room.
The circular wall of the room is broken only by an irregular circular opening of about two meters in diameter, only high and wide enough for a single human to pass through. Beyond that opening, I see the leyline, a vein in the earth with walls of natural stone sculpted with flow by the temple's guardians, Templars, for over a century as they each placed their beacon inside the node in Meria's temple and used it to connect this dead-end temple with the capital.
I follow the Templar to the center of the room where a large pool lay, he picks a ceremonial bowl embroidered in gold with the Emperor's seal, a crown of laurels with a stylized lion in the center. The old man dips the bowl in the pool, filling it with water at two-thirds and carrying it in front of me.
I raise my right hand above the bowl while I use my left hand to grab a single one of my hair, cutting it with an abrupt pull. I place the hair on top of my right hand and start channeling all my flow reserves into the water in a single uniform stream, my concentration remains steady for a whole minute until the strain tells me that my energy is running low.
I lower my output so that I can focus on anchoring the tail end of that uninterrupted flow stream with the single strand of hair. Most don't add a strand of hair to their due but doing so and tying it is kind of like asking the Emperor for a blessing.
Once the flow construct seems stable and anchored, I tie the hair in a knot and drop it in the water that has now taken a golden hue. I cut my ties to the flow structure, repressing a small gasp as I remove my hand. The Templar places his other hand under the ceremonial bowl, turns towards the leyline and moves slowly towards it, stopping a single step away from of the opening.
“The due is paid, Emperor.” He says ceremoniously, throwing the bowl's contents inside the opening in a practiced movement.
I throw a glimpse into the pond, wondering if the water becomes holy before or after we use it as a vessel to the Emperor. I'd rather not ask that old crust, he'll probably make me clean the temple or read the scriptures just because he can.
“By the way, I replenished one of the torches on the way down. Thought you would like to know some of them are running out.”
“Great. I'm sure you messed up somehow with your wretched tendencies. I'll have to go through them all to make sure.”
“Wha …”
“I'll thank you to leave the temple without tainting it further.”
“I'm sure you know all about my tendencies.” I insinuate with a raised eyebrow.
“We know nothing of such things here, this village was free of such corruption before you came along.” He replies without delay, taking a dignified pose with a straight back.
“I've heard all about the famous Templar dormitories and how well oiled the dorm room hinges are.” Fucking self-righteous judgmental prick, how do you like that? “Perhaps I'll join your order and receive a … thorough education in all matters.” My mouth curls into a suggestive smile.
The Templar coughs, splutters but otherwise fails to respond other than trying to shoo me out of the room, red with indignation but I barely notice his efforts as I swiftly make my way through the main room and into the vestibule where the Conner family is waiting.
I make a polite smile while passing by them, as Ms. Conner's promise to help us brings my good mood back. I start whistling small rhythmic sounds as I walk out of the temple, no doubt aggravating the Templar even more, a bonus in my book.
As I climb the stairs back up towards the market plaza, maybe when I reach the halfway mark, a group of three kids my age appear, walking side by side in a line blocking the whole staircase. My smile doesn't waver as it used to when I spot them and they seem to notice as their faces take darker tones.
“Hey.” I throw looking up at them, hoping they would let me pass without forcing me to stop.
“You.” One of them, Roger, spits with a contemptuous sneer. “You like girls.” He adds a second later, almost like he needs to remind himself why he doesn't like me, as if that statement alone is both self-evident and proof of some kind of wrongdoing on my part.
“So do you.” I state, hiding the first half of the giggle that comes to me before remembering I don't need to be nice and laughing out loud.
Ah, that was a mistake. I note as the group of three plant their feet firmly to the ground, digging in as they secure their position blocking the way across the stairway.
“Look at that, Victor, she even tries to talk back like a man.”
“I suppose you would know, being an expert in trying to act like a man.” I take advantage of the opening and answer almost without a pause.
Not sure what he meant about talking like a man there, but who cares, he probably thought of that line days ago and would've delivered it regardless of context. Victor looks confused for far longer than my insinuation deserves and is saved by Roger as he picks up the conversation, ignoring my remark.
“We heard you tried to get the Conner's daughter alone in the fields, trying to do some witchcraft on her I bet!” Roger almost yells out.
“I bet! She's no better than a serf.” The third boy I can't remember the name of, adds like a bad echo.
“Talking from experience there?” I ask but continue immediately so as to not give them any time to answer. “Ah no, I'm certain you've never gotten a girl alone with you, never mind where.”
Roger's face takes a full-on red tint, closely resembling a tomato, as he gets madder and madder without finding anything to answer. This time Victor comes to his rescue, repeating something I have no doubt he heard his sleazy father say.
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“I bet you'd change your opinion if you saw the size of my equipment!” Victor makes a victorious smile, once again certain that his one-liner is so self-evident that no one could possibly counter it.
“Okay, let's see it then.” I answer, flat in expression as my eyes slowly drift towards his pants.
“Wh … at?” He blabs, turning about as red as Roger but for a different reason.
“Take it out, let's see the size of the equipment.” I add, flatly.
They all take a step back, like hit with my words, it launches me in a fit of laughter as I look back up as their faces lose all composure, taking on a tinge of fear as they stare at me. I shake my head and restart my climb back up the stairs, absent-mindedly pushing Roger aside as I swiftly make my way, still laughing.
As I emerge out of the stairs, taking a deep breath of fresh surface air, I find one of the butcher's apprentice holding a food stall made of a simple plank, two trestles and a mobile cooking apparatus.
I make my way there and ask for the largest piece of meat I can see grilling. He skewers it in a bit of wood and takes three copper coins in exchange with a professional smile on.
At least he's nice enough. Hum. Not that a smile and nothing else is nice, am I so far gone that the simple lack of hostility is enough to make me think someone is nice? Ugh. These people and their continued obsession with what bit of plumbing I prefer is starting to weigh down on my naturally kind, humble and self-contained personality.
An explosive laugh of self-derision escapes me in the middle of the plaza, turning a dozen stares my way. I pointedly ignore them, letting my laughter slowly die out while I make my way down the street towards the baker's shop where I buy a single loaf of bread from another apprentice. A girl my age this time, it takes a bit of effort not to remember her name but I manage and she doesn't make a point out of taunting me so I manage to get out of the shop without an incident.
Kids my age never used to like me much since my family lives outside the village, out far enough from their turf for the kids to consider us outsiders. But when they found out that I liked girls a few years back, the boys have been increasingly hostile while the girls have avoided me like the pest. The fact that I live a bit out of the village just makes it easier for them to cut ties, adolescence is hard enough without having to fight rumors, so I somewhat understand the girls, but these little pricks act like a pack of wild dogs defending their territory.
I shake my head out of the whole mess with the villagers as I leave the outskirts of the village, throwing the wooden skewer out to the side of the road once I finish the grilled meat. The way back home is much easier for me thanks to the wind calming down since earlier that morning, the clouds are still blocking most of the sunlight but I don't fear a bit of cold with my heavy winter cloak set on my shoulders.
As the house comes into view, what I see makes me stop cold on the road. There are five guards sitting around the fire pit in front of the stables, watching a pot stew.
“Fuck. Its the Lord Baron.” I whisper between grit teeth.
I reluctantly keep walking, returning a wave or a nod to the guards as they casually greet me, I even make a smile for the two women who offered me advice and kind words in the past about my situation in the village.
When I enter the stables, I find the Lord Baron talking with my father in front of one of the stalls, but what surprises me most is the number of horses occupying said stalls. There are … seventeen heads, plus two foals, so nineteen, that's … with six mounts from the Duke plus our three mares and two stallions … six heads too many. How much I wish I could bet on who those belong to but I doubt the guards would give me good odds.
I walk up to the Baron and drop a knee on the ground as soon as I find a clean patch of straw. The protocol for greeting one's direct liege is about as old as the empire. I lower my head and wait for the Lord to notice me. Surprisingly, he does so immediately when in the past he has always finished his discussions with Father before deigning to notice me. Good, I fucking hate kneeling.
“Rise, young one, today is a good day for you.”
“Good, my Lord?” I throw a look and find that his expression is neutral as I get back up to my feet.
“You find yourself with the opportunity to provide assistance to Izla Meria's nobility.” He taps his house's crest over his heart as he says that.
“I, … I have a lot of work left in your fields, my Lord. I'm sure others have …”
“Nonsense!” He interrupts me. “I have every confidence you will be quite adequate and I am certain an absence of a few days from the fields will not negatively impact hard workers like you and your father.”
“Sire, we are already late in the season, I have a lot left to do.”
“The scouting team requires someone with knowledge of the area and its terrain, you WILL volunteer, won't you?” He makes a displeased frown, one so artificial even I could spot it.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I stay stuck there, to the ground, silent. What do I do? I can't say yes, we'll be fucked if I do. We're already too slow with the fucking pickaxe to make it in time. If we delay the seeding for another two days, we won't be able to reap half the fields before the first winter snows ruin them. I grit my teeth even harder.
“I am waiting, lad. You are volunteering are you not?”
“Yes, my Lord, I am.” I cannot help but grind my teeth throughout my reply. “Perhaps, my Lord, you would consider reducing our allocated lands for next year? So that we can focus on the horse business.”
“Nonsense, you underestimate yourselves too much!” He says with a smile, his earlier disapproval melting like snow. “Your father and I have both agreed that it is the wiser choice to continue on like you have until you can both pay your debt back and maintain yourselves. I have every confidence in you two, father and daughter!” I can almost see the mockery in his smile as he continues. “Quite the admirable endeavor, reaching above one's station … it is the ambition of all creatures.” He pauses, pointedly looking down at me.
“Thank you, my Lord.” I force the words past my tight lips.
“Quite.” He turns to the entrance and gestures me to follow him. “Now, we have more important matters to attend.” He turns to one of the guards who gets up as he sees the Baron exiting. “Prepare the supplies.”
The guard gets up and makes his way towards a large backpack resting against the exterior wall of the stables, it was made out of a thick material, maybe burlap. That's not going to be comfortable to carry. I swiftly make my way back inside the house, exchanging my good soft shoes with my thick leather work boots, slipping a pair of heavy winter socks on as an afterthought before rushing back outside.
The guard hangs the backpack out to me, it is a bit heavy but not overly so, maybe twenty kilos. The Baron himself comes back from inside the stables with a leather roll closed off at the top with a wax cap.
“This is more valuable than your life.” He lifts the roll in front of my eyes. “But what is important is the information inscribed on that map, not the map itself, do you understand?” He asks, with such seriousness in his eyes that I involuntarily swallow. “You are to deliver this roll to Countess Lance and no one else. Under no circumstance does the map inside the roll touch other hands. The seal is incendiary, so do not touch it unless you intend to destroy the map and mark my words if there is any doubt in your mind, you destroy it. Understood?”
“Yes, my Lord. For the Lady Lance's hands only.”
“Now, James will escort you to the entrance of the tunnel where he left them, it should not be hard to find as Lord Patrick has burnt the foliage concealing it. From there you will continue alone until you find their squad. They should be awaiting further down the tunnel, they've assured James that they would wait if they encounter a crossroads, so worry not you will find them.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Fuck. I'm going to have to parrot out yes Lords all day.
“My Lord, perhaps a weapon would be appropriate?” James suggests.
“No, I think not. An untrained hand is more likely to injure itself with a weapon. Besides, the safety of the information contained on the map is her sole mission, I will tolerate no distraction or failure, in case of battle you will run or destroy the seal while James buys time.” The Baron states in a tone that brooks no argument.
“Yes, my Lord.” There you go, have another.
“James, I expect to see you back at the barracks tomorrow afternoon at the latest.” He dismisses us with a wave of the hand as he turns around and walks back inside the stables.
Father came out the door soon after, immediately walking up to me and wrapping me in a tight hug.
“Just be safe alright? Screw the damn Baron, if there is any danger you just run away, we can start over in another kingdom.” He whispers in my ear.
“I'll be fine, Father, really, don't worry.” I bury my nose in his chest. “You'll be alright, yeah?” I skip over the word alone, fearing it would get too close to reminding him of Mother.
“Your old father has seen worse years, don't you worry.” He smiles as we separate. “Stay safe” He adds.
I make a smile of my own before turning to James who signals me to follow him off-road. I follow him, accelerating my pace to catch up with him as he skips over the fence around one of our pastures.