The Windrunner’s deck was a hive of activity as it approached the stone quay of the Vinton Docks. A pair of men guided the vessel to its berth using their oars while the rest of the crew busied themselves preparing the vessel for unloading. There was an anxiety aboard. Every last one of them wanted to be unloaded and safely underway back towards Dinburn as quickly as possible.
Rhania didn’t blame them as she stood on the prow, out of the way. She surveyed the town and was unimpressed by what she saw. Vinton was a town in decay. It was founded on the edge of an Elven forest that was home to numerous Venyrila trees. The trees yielded vinwood, a white hardwood that was prized for its beauty. The people of Vinton made a fortune harvesting the trees and shipping the logs to every corner of the world. In its heyday, the Vinton Docks were a hive of activity where tugs would tie up to long log rafts in the middle of the river before transporting them to markets downstream. Today, the river was empty save for ice, and the Windrunner.
A broad, paved promenade ran along the bank. Tall stone buildings lined the promenade. Their facades were carved intricately in all manner of styles that were now grimy and faded from years of neglect. Amidst these once grand buildings stood empty, rubble strewn lots but what Rhania found most strange was that there wasn’t a single wooden building in sight in this former logging hub. Rhania sighed as she took in the opposite bank of the river. All that remained of the mighty Venyrila trees were stumps amid a wasteland of sickly yellow soil. She shook her head sadly. The people here had been given a gift, and they destroyed it.
Lines were cast by dockworkers as the Windrunner drew closer and Rhania took the opportunity to hop off as strong arms pulled the vessel to the quay. As soon as her feet touched the stone quay, she felt her body go weak. The magical energy that typically flowed through the earth was completely absent here. No wonder crops here failed. However, the trees in the distance across the river seemed fine. Perhaps they protected the lands against whatever malady had befallen it.
“Thank you for the lift, Captain!” she called from the quay.
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but this will be the last contract I take from the Arbiters,” came the reply. “Remember our deal!”
Rhania nodded slung the bag containing her belongings over her shoulder. The Captain didn’t want her to report their attack to the local authorities until he was well away for fear of being detained for questioning. That was a fair enough ask and she had agreed. She walked two paces before finding her path blocked by a frail old man wearing an elaborate black coat.
“Miss Winstead, I presume?” he asked.
Rhania nodded. “That’s me.”
The man bowed low in an almost liquid motion. “I am Hobard Pillern. Welcome to Vinton, Lady Arbiter. My Lord is waiting in the carriage.”
The man gestured at the black carriage that was parked along the promenade. It was enormous, almost taking up the entire width of the road and pulled by eight malnourished horses. Its details were finished in gold that was tarnished in some places and scraped off altogether in others.
“He’s not wasting any time, is he?” Rhania remarked dryly.
Hobard cocked an eyebrow. “The matter is most urgent.”
“So he said in his missive,” Rhania breathed as she followed the old man to the carriage. “But not urgent enough to give any details?”
“The situation is delicate,” Hobard began, giving no acknowledgement to the dockworkers who bowed their heads deferentially as they walked past. “My lord will supply you with the details.”
Rhania nodded dubiously and the pair walked in silence. She noted that though it was almost noon, the promenade was almost devoid of traffic. It felt as though the whole town was asleep.
“Where is everyone?” she asked, wondering if the Lord of Vinton was the one behind the ambush on the river. If he was, why would he summon an Arbiter to his town only to have her killed?
Hobard blinked as though surprised by the question and looked around before turning back to her. “This it’s been in Vinton lately. Almost everyone who can afford to has left.”
“And those who remained?”
Hobard smiled and shrugged. “The harvest was brought in a month ago and the fields have been ploughed. There will be little to do here except huddle at home for warmth until spring arrives.”
Rhania arched an eyebrow. “That’s almost eight months away.”
“Such is life here,” Hobard said. “It wasn’t always like this, though. When there were still trees, oh how alive this whole place was.”
The old man’s shoulders shuddered as a sad sigh escaped his lips. He looked over his shoulder at the land on the opposite bank of the river. “Perhaps if everything goes well, the good times can return to Vinton, if only for a little while.”
Rhania frowned as they came to a stop at the portable steps that led up to the carriage. Hobard cleared his throat before knocking on the door.
“Enter,” an imperious voice ordered from inside.
Hobard pulled the door open and gestured for Rhania to enter. She paused to touch the hilt of her dagger at her back before hesitantly climbing up. Inside the carriage, she found a diminutive man sitting in a deeply cushioned seat facing forwards. His youthful face was twisted into a scowl that deepened when he set eyes on her.
“Aren’t you a little young to be an Arbiter?” he snapped.
Rhania hesitated before replying evenly. “I’m afraid we were given few details about your issue. Perhaps if you could share more details, I will be able to make the appropriate recommendations to my order if I deem it necessary.”
The man stared out of the window, across the river peevishly and Rhania swallowed a caustic remark. Instead, she bowed graciously. “Sir Duglin, I presume?”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The man’s eyes darted back to her, and he nodded imperceptibly before gesturing at the bench across from him, indicating for her to sit.
“What is the nature of your problem?” she asked with as much decorum as she could muster.
Duglin sighed and placed a small wooden box across his lap. Rhania gasped when he opened it to reveal a pair of vinwood arrows. They were shaped like thorns and instead of feathers, the fletches were made from stiff leaves that grew naturally from the shaft.
“You recognize them?” he observed.
“Elven arrows,” she breathed, her eyes wide with wonder.
“Good, we agree,” Duglin declared as he slammed the box shut. “A woodsman went missing after crossing the river in search of firewood. His body was found in the river last week. These arrows were in his back.”
Rhania frowned. “You think elves killed him?”
“Yes,” Duglin nodded. “This is an unwarranted escalation, and it cannot go without response.”
“Escalation?” Rhania narrowed her eyes. “Was there a prior conflict? It was my understanding that no one in Vinton has seen a Venyrilian elf in centuries.”
Duglin clicked his tongue. “Our neighbours have kept themselves aloof, unconcerned by our difficulties in scrabbling a living out of these barren lands.”
With great effort, Rhania held her tongue and indicated for the lord of Vinton to continue. Her research told her that the founders of Vinton, Duglin’s forebears having lost their kingdom when the Enemy fell upon it, had fled to this region and sought from the Venyirilian elves. Those were the days before the elven tribes closed themselves off from the wider world and the local tribe had taken pity on the refugees and given them this corner of land to start a new community.
“It was roughly a decade ago, during the last years of my father’s reign. The last of the trees were gone and we sent men into forests to seek permission to expand across the river,” the young man continued. “However, the elves hid themselves from us and that expedition returned empty handed. Desperate, some of our people crossed the river and cut down a tree or two for fuel and the next time they returned, these infernal mists appeared.”
“So your people have been trespassing,” Rhania observed.
“Our people are desperate for warmth!” Duglin protested. “It is the elves’ fault for not coming to the negotiating table.”
“These mists seem a fairly benign response,” Rhania pointed out. “And I’ve seen the opposite bank. Your people have done an impressive job of logging it despite the enchantment.”
Duglin scowled. “The murder was still an unwarranted escalation. My people are freezing…”
Rhania held up a hand. “Neither this town nor the elves are under my order’s jurisdiction. I am not here to pass judgment, only to act as a mediator in your dispute.”
A derisive scoff escaped the young man’s lips. “To mediate, you will first have to bring them to the negotiating table. I don’t see how the likes of you is going to achieve that. They could have at least sent someone a little more experienced.”
Rhania pulled back the hood of her cloak and Duglin gasped as he inched away from her. “You are an elf!”
“Half elf,” Rhania corrected him. “And half human, which makes me uniquely suited to mediate. And for what it’s worth, I am ninety years old.”
Duglin narrowed his eyes suspiciously before breaking out into a chuckle. “Half elf? Perhaps you’ll be of some use after all.”
Rhania swallowed a curse and nodded politely. She wanted to be away from this vile man’s presence as quickly as possible. “What sort of compensation did you have in mind?”
“A thousand acres,” he replied. “Turned over to us by no later than spring.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “That is a hefty price indeed for a life.”
Duglin nodded arrogantly. “And that’s not all.”
“It isn’t?”
“We also want them to reopen the Ferlane Road,” he said.
“It was my understanding that the Sawtooth Dwarves closed their kingdom off,” Rhania pointed out. The Ferlane Road ran along the border of the elven forest and was the main trading route between the dwarven city of Ukh Darnin that lay under the Sawtooth Mountains and the kingdoms of men. “Has the road been closed?”
“Envoys from Nock Vale have reported that the elven mists have extended over the road as of last month,” Duglin replied. “Lord Marius has demanded that the elves remove the enchantment and is convinced that the Venyirilian Elves have pressured the dwarves into closing their city.”
“The elves hold no sway over the dwarves,” Rhania protested.
“Lord Marius disagrees,” Duglin asserted. “He wants the city reopened. If neither demand is met, our combined forces will march into the forests, claim our due and reopen the trade route by force if need be.”
Rhania straightened her back and watched the young lord carefully. “Are you aware of how ridiculous you sound?”
An expression crossed the young man’s face that told Rhania that he knew exactly that. At length, the young lord spoke. “Without trade, Nock Vale dies, Arbiter. And without new lands to exploit, Vinton dies.”
“Where does it end?” Rhania asked. “You have devastated the lands the elves gave to you and now you seek more. You know it won’t end with this thousand acres. Soon, this whole region will be a barren wasteland. What then?”
“By the time that happens, I will be long dead,” Duglin said. “I will be no different from my forebearers who dropped this splendid problem in my lap.”
“I will deliver your message to the elves,” Rhania said. “But I cannot promise that they will entertain your demands.”
“If they don’t, we will go to war,” Duglin sighed and held up his hand when Rhania was about to speak. “There is no point trying to convince me otherwise. Lord Marius is adamant, and he is the real power in these lands.”
Rhania nodded slowly. Another Arbiter had been dispatched to Nock Vale at the same time as Rhania, and she could only hope that he would be able to talk some sense into this Lord Marius.
“When will you attempt to make contact?” Duglin ventured.
“At dawn tomorrow,” Rhania replied.
The young lord raised an eyebrow. “That long?”
He paused and shook his head. “Well, I suppose a day won’t make a difference. You have until spring to convince them to agree to our terms.”
Rhania nodded and pulled her hood back over her head before letting herself out of the carriage. Once outside, she took a deep breath. Her job now was to present each side’s case and bring them to the table. She did not look forward to presiding over those negotiations.
“You will have to forgive my Lord,” Rhania looked up to see Hobard waiting at the foot of the stairs with a compassionate smile on his face. “He was charged by his father to protect House Gerrow’s legacy. However, all his forebearers ever did was extract as much money as they could from the land without any regard for the future. He is at his wit's end. Would you accompany this old man on a stroll down the riverfront?”
Rhania nodded and fell in step next to the old man.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” he asked at length as they walked past an empty lot. “Despite once being a logging hub, there isn’t a single building made from wood in the entire town?”
“I had noticed that,” Rhania began.
“My lord gave the peasantry permission to dismantle them for firewood five years ago,” Hobard said. “It gave his people a brief respite.”
“That’s very compassionate of him,” Rhania observed dryly.
“Oh but it was,” Hobard said. “Most of the homes they demolished belonged to wealthy merchants who had long since left. Influential merchants who despite having left the town, did not take kindly to having their property destroyed by peasants. They attempted to use their influence to have him removed as lord of Vinton. He only clung on by agreeing to a pact with Lord Marius.”
“If everything here is shit, why doesn’t he just leave?” Rhania asked. “Why stay and fight?”
Hobard smiled. “Because he loves this town, Lady Arbiter, and he wishes to see it returned to its former glory.”
“If it does return, it will only be fleeting,” Rhania pointed out.
“My Lord has plans for this town, to turn it into more than a place that relies on lumber,” Hobard said. “But to do that, he needs money.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rhania said. “But be warned, I am no miracle worker.”
“Thank you,” Hobard said.
The old man came to a halt as a group of scruffily dressed men emerged from the building in front of them. Rhania turned around and saw more coming out of the one to the rear. Soon, Rhania found herself surrounded by at least twenty men.
“How can I help you boys?” she asked as she moved her hand slowly to the hilt of her sword.