Chapter 117

I stood at the entrance to the Tower. The day had progressed since I left the hospital. It looked like it would be a good day for the festival. The skies were mostly clear, the early morning chill had faded, and now a steady heat was building in the air. I looked out at Tower Square. Workmen were assembling a stage of some sort, perhaps for musicians to play or for speeches to be given. A medley of fine scents wafted up the streets from the maze of the city: frying smells, baking smells, the aroma of slowly browning meat, and the heady scents of toasting spices.

I needed to eat. The smells of fine cooking reminded me of the practical reality—I needed to stay strong and vital. My mind was a scattered mess, my thoughts constantly returning to Father. I was doing what I could for him, but at that moment, I was powerless. I needed to accept that. Whatever my feelings about him, it was hard to separate the sensations of love from duty, loyalty, and training. There was tremendous urgency—if Father was alive, every moment counted—but until I wore the suit, there was little I could do now that I had secured the promise of an expedition from Baltazar.

For now, all I could do was pass the day and further my own plans. I had set out that morning with three tasks to accomplish. Two had been achieved as well as I could have hoped. I had confronted the voice, and even if it had not satisfied me entirely, I had established that whatever alliance we formed in the future, I would not be a passive or silent partner. I had met with Baltazar and arranged the best possible chances for finding Father.

Now, as I stood in the breeze, the sun warm on my skin, one more thing preyed on my thoughts. Aside from achieving my own goals, it would free my mind to focus on tomorrow if I could resolve this last concern. I started walking again. I passed the same two knights at the gate to the Tower gardens. This time, I didn’t even acknowledge the spitting bastard. What concern was he to me? I had just held a private meeting with the Lord Supreme himself and negotiated with him—why should I care about this bigot? To the other knight, I dipped my head and smiled. He gave me a sincere, if reserved, smile in return and bowed his head as well.

Then I was outside, on the cobbles, the gentle pull of the slope guiding me down the square toward the rows of townhouses. My father's house was the tallest among them, and it called to me. I had a moment to consider the reality: Father was probably dead. In that case, this was no longer my father's house—it was mine. But what good was that to me? If I won the suit, I would take residence in the Tower. If I won the suit, I might live for a century, two even, and have no use for such a residence, no matter how expensive. I could retain Harold, but most of the servants would have no function in that possible future life.

I reached the door and pushed it open. Inside was chaos. Servants and soldiers moved about with purpose. Peering into the den, I could see charts and maps spread out on the surfaces, armed men in mercenary colors gathered around them. Turning toward the dining room, I found Harold, surrounded by the other servants and a couple of armed mercs, studying lists. As I entered, Harold said something to one of the kitchen maids, handed her a parchment, and she moved away quickly.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I was at the table before anyone noticed me. I could see the lists on the table were for supplies—basic calculations of the provisions needed for the size of the expedition. Harold stared intently at the sheet before him, completely unaware of my presence. The hired soldiers knew me not at all. They wore leathers and furs, with black and yellow trims and emblems that marked them as warriors from the Pittsburgh Hill Clans. If they were hiring on with us, they were probably from the fringes of Pittsburgh territory, not part of the core assembly that governed the city and its rugged surroundings.

I glanced at the list, noting the basic calculations—so many pounds of flour per man, so many men. I said, “You’ll need more than that.”

Harold startled at the sound of my voice and stepped back in sudden fright. His face contorted in surprise, then delight. “Young Master! You’re out! You look hearty and hale. Are you recovered?”

“I’m recovered enough to do what I need to. You’ll need more supplies than you’re accounting for. I’ve made some arrangements.”

I hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a simple, self-assured certainty in my voice. Harold noticed it. He paused, assessing me as if seeing me for the first time. His gaze caused me to reflect on myself.

He asked, “May I ask my Young Master what arrangements he has been making?”

“I’ve been to speak with the Lord Supreme. When I win the suit, I will gain the power of the Footfield, but I will be new to it. The Lord Supreme has agreed to arrange for another Griidlord from the city to accompany the expedition, along with a detachment of knights and some priests who may be knowledgeable about the ways of the Horde.”

At the mention of priests, the warrior nearest Harold made a disgusted sound.

I didn’t acknowledge the man’s reaction. Instead, I said, “Can you be ready by tomorrow evening?”

Harold was flustered. “By tomorrow? That’s sooner than I expected...”

I said, “The Lord Supreme has promised to arrange a Griidlord to join us tomorrow or the next day. If none can be found by then, I’ll move the convoy with my own Footfield, and we’ll proceed ourselves.”

Harold studied his lists again. “I think we can be ready. It’s not ideal, but every day will make a difference.”

“That’s good. Perhaps you should send a runner to the Tower to consult with the Lord Supreme’s office. Coordinate with them, ascertain the numbers they will be sending, and find out what arrangements the Tower is making in terms of supplies. There will be a merchant convoy with us for part of the journey, which means a stop at a city along the way. If an advance courier is sent, resupply could be arranged at whichever city we’re bound for.”

Harold assessed me again, then said, “You’re more your father’s son than you may know.”

I didn’t know how to react to that. I felt some pride at the praise, but I wasn’t sure if I liked the comparison.

Harold continued, “Will you not be able to consult with the Tower for us, Young Master? You seem to have access.”

“I won’t be here for a while. I’d like a horse arranged while I change and bathe.”

“A horse?”

“Yes, a horse. I intend to take a ride to the countryside for a few hours. I have some matters to discuss at Castle Oakcrest.”

I felt my eyes grow distant then. Castle Oakcrest lay miles outside the city. It was the fortress of clan Oakcrest, Lauren's family.

And, to the best of my knowledge, that's where I would find Katya and Lauren.