“What did I tell you about that woman?” whispered Jeanne through gritted teeth.
“Didn’t you also tell me it was good manners to say your farewells to people that you spend the day with?” Valentin countered, not really following his sister’s animosity towards the troubadour. He found her antics entertaining.
“I must praise your politeness at the very least,” Jeanne conceded with a defeated sigh. “Just promise me you’ll be careful around such women in the future.”
“Alright,” Valentin agreed without much more fight, not wishing to frustrate his sister.
Valentin and Jeanne made hurried time through the late midday crowd that gathered around the gate to enter Roucotte. Valentin felt that he was being pulled at great speed by his sister and his footing was on the verge of being lost under him. A fall would spell doom for the boy.
“Jeanne, slow down!” Valentin protested and tried to slow his sister down. “If I fall then father will kill both of us.”
That was enough to give Valentin some reprieve from his rough handling. The siblings were forced to move more slowly regardless. A large crowd formed at the east gate to return to the city. The drunken and belligerent nature of the late day crowd made the line even slower moving than in the morning.
Jeanne tried to wait patiently in the crowd to pass through. However, minutes passed and only a small handful of people finally made it through the gates. Jeanne looked at the gate and then in the direction of Ortus and back to the gate. A face full of concern crossed her face as she was at a loss of what to do next.
Jeanne’s nervous mannerisms started to seep into Valentin. If they didn’t make it back in time for the start of the feast, he feared that he’d die long before he had the chance to see the result of the Bloodstone. Worse still, he feared that Jeanne would be punished for allowing him to watch the fights. He did not realize how much time had passed while he watched the fights and spoke to Leonard.
A few more people trickled into the gates. Not nearly enough for either Jeanne or Valentin to feel comfortable making it back in time. He could see his sister rapidly think through several options to come up with a decent solution.
“Perhaps the crowds are smaller at one of the other gates?” Valentin offered, trying to lighten a bit of Jeanne’s worries.
“Unlucky for you, we came over here because the other gates are longer,” a man standing with several children informed them unprompted. “You’ll just have to wait here if you want to get in at any reasonable time.”
Jeanne exhaled loudly as she pinched her nose to achieve greater concentration. Valentin wasn’t sure if it actually helped her think better, but she did it every time she was in a particularly difficult situation. So far, it seemed to work out more times than it didn’t.
Valentin, for his part, tried to stay out of her way. He passively kicked at the rocks embedded in the dirt of the road and tried not to think too hard about what would happen if they didn’t make it in time.
“We have one more option,” Jeanne said, sparking hope within Valentin. “You just have to promise not to ever tell anyone.”
Valentin nodded gravely at his sister’s order. He would not utter a word of what happens if it means that they could avoid trouble. Besides, if he said the same to her, he had faith that she would do the same.
“I won’t say anything about it,” Valentin confirmed.
“Good,” Jeanne replied, grabbing Valentin by the hand. “Let’s go, quickly.”
Jeanne led Valentin along the wall. She walked briskly, but not at the breakneck pace she moved at earlier. Valentin ran his fingers along the porous stone of the wall, the small holes creating interesting sensations on his fingers.
As they reached the midpoint between the north and east gates, Jeanne stopped. She looked around quickly. Valentin tried to follow his sister’s gaze to little avail. However, she seemed satisfied with whatever he saw.
“What are we doing?” Valentin asked, wishing to be involved in the plan in some way. “What are we looking for?”
“Nothing,” Jeanne replied dismissively as she was focused on her own task. She stopped before a stretch of wall that looked no different than the rest. “Alright, wait right here.”
Jeanne jumped and grabbed a protrusion sticking from the top of the wall. She quickly clambered up the side of the wall. She slammed the toes of her boots in the porous rock to gain more traction on the way up. Soon, she crouched atop the wall, her body pressed low in order to not gain undue attention.
“Scaling the walls,” Valentin said with a deeply impressed voice. “I wonder if this is how people would do it if they were actually attacking.”
“Spare your fanciful thoughts until after we make it,” Jeanne admonished with a voice sharpened by urgency. She reached her arm down towards Valentin. “Grab onto my arm and try to climb up. I’ll help pull.”
Grabbing his sister’s arm, Valentin scrambled up the side of the wall. While not as graceful as Jeanne’s ascent, Valentin did a respectable job at scaling the short fortification. Even though it was only a few seconds, he was exhilarated by his imagination that made the wall five times as high.
In a smooth motion, Jeanne grabbed Valentin by the shoulders and lowered him on the other side of the wall. He hopped the short distance from her grip to the ground below. She quickly slipped down the other side of the wall and grabbed Valentin’s hand to lead him back towards the main road.
They slipped from behind an unoccupied home and they found themselves on a winding residential path. Unlike the main road, it felt peaceful in these cloistered parts of Roucotte. Elderly people and families with infant children chatted with each other in front of their hovels. They drank cups of wine and gave their children celebratory sweets of honey. When the pair of unfamiliar faces slipped by them, they gave looks of brief confusion before continuing on with their day.
They rounded one of the sharp corners to run into a sizable crowd of people waiting around a well. People argued over who got access to the limited bucket next. Antagonistic groups gripped their hands onto the wooden bucket and pulled it each way. Like all things on this day, Valentin assumed that the argument was made worse by the rampant drinking.
Unperturbed and disinterested in the dispute, Jeanne squeezed herself and her trailing brother between the walls of the hovels and the edges of the crowd.
Around the next corner, a group of people tried to convince their friend to climb down from his position atop the roof of a house. Instead, the man performed a clumsy dance and shook his butt towards his friends below. Valentin chuckled at the sight, but it also quickly fell out of sight as he was continuously pulled forwards.
At a different intersection, a performer hid coins from enraptured audience members only to reveal the same coins from behind their ears. How did he do that? Was there a form of favor that allowed for coins to move behind ears? While it didn’t make any sense, he could not refute what he could see directly in front of him.
They passed a puppet show of two warriors locked in desperate combat. They ran by a sermon from a junior druid, a single line tattooed into their cheek confirming their inexperience. Valentin could only hear them speak briefly about the merits of generosity before he quickly fell out of earshot. He saw a woman placing lines of sooty black paint on the faces of children. They compared the ornate lines that crossed their cheeks.
Why had he never seen these features of Killicia before? Even when he did not have to go directly to the Great Hall and had the ability to explore the streets, he never was led through these side streets. He felt robbed of the experience, making mental notes of where he wanted to go next cycle.
A man wearing a hat stuffed with feathers from all different kinds of birds caused lightning to arc between his fingers. Small booms shocked the crowd whenever he snapped his fingers. The sound even forced his preoccupied sister to give it a sparing glance.
Could he do that if he were favored? He envisioned walking to a fight and snapping thunder from his fingers. He grinned stupidly at the imagined reactions of the hardened warriors seeing the display of his superiority.
They popped out into the main road between the sword seller that Valentin saw earlier and a stand selling wooden idols carved in the likeness of the Mother. Valentin offered a forlorn expression towards the blacksmith, lamenting that he would not have the opportunity to investigate the swords more closely. Seeing his face, the blacksmith offered the boy a sympathetic smile and a wave.
No sooner that they integrated back into the main road did their progress slow back down considerably. The crowd in the town center had reached its peak. Now that the revelers had the time to drink most of the morning and midday away, townsfolk spilled onto the street in the most uncoordinated ways. They were completely oblivious to how foolish they looked. Instead, they pointed and laughed heartily at the drunken fool next to them.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
People stumbled into the siblings. Valentin had to ward off drunken men and women. He pressed his hands against their larger bodies and pushed them away from him to varying degrees of success.
Hearing the warning signs in time, Valentin managed to jump out of the way of a stream of vomit that flowed towards his shoes. He then hopped gracefully over a stream of piss that flowed from one of the stand vendors who tried to relieve himself covertly. He sidestepped a vendor that tried to grab his wrist to show him wares.
His sister had to compete with more. Jeanne fought off the exploratory hands of inebriated men and women that went to reach for the girl’s body. She kicked at the shin of an overly foolish man that reached too bravely and he toppled stiffly into the mud. People who saw laughed at the expense of the muddied man but Jeanne’s face was red with indignation. Valentin ‘accidentally’ stepped on the man’s jacket as he followed behind, at least he would claim no ill will if confronted.
As they reached the main square, there was nearly no room to stand. People had slowly congregated towards the center of the town to enjoy the music and drink that poured out of the Red Rest Inn. A choir of drunken voices sang popular songs about lovers and drinking late into the night with friends.
While Valentin enjoyed the festive atmosphere and tried to sing a few stanzas along with the revelers, his sister kept towing him through the endless sea of bodies. His short body had to avoid taking elbows to the head. An inadvertent blow to his shoulder sent pain shooting from the impact point. However, he did not call out. It would not be fitting of a hopeful warrior to yell.
The pair made their way through the main square and turned north towards the Great Hall. The northern section of the town surrounding the hall was reserved for the wealthier members of Roucotte society and as such were guarded much more heavily than the rest of the town. Once the siblings had gone a short distance up the road, the crowd almost dissipated entirely and only a few well-dressed citizens strolled the streets.
Handsome banners of earthen colors hung from the second floor of the nice wooden homes. Unlike the wooden storefronts, all of the homes here had coats of light colored paints on the walls and rooves to try to keep heat out during the harsher Grian season of the cycle. Fortunately for Valentin, the failed fort that he called home possessed stone of naturally light colors. He thought paint would ruin the look of his estate.
Up ahead, a man leaned against an emptied wagon that flanked a well-constructed wooden building. He combed his hand through his black hair and looked at his feet. The horses snorted and idly waited for their next command.
“Uncle Gilles,” Valentin called out to the loitering man who whipped his head up at the approaching siblings.
A mixture of expressions crossed his uncle’s face. The chief two were relief and annoyance. Valentin swallowed at even the trace amounts of displeasure from Gilles. The fact that he was not smiling was all the proof that Valentin needed to know that they failed to return in time.
“It’s about time,” Gilles said quietly through a strained voice. “We are pushing it awfully close to the start of the feast don’t you think? Where, in the name of the Mother, have you been?”
“We went to see Arnauld fight,” responded Valentin with a joyous expression on his face. He pantomimed a few punches and kicks. “You should have seen it, Uncle Gilles, they really fight with everything that they have, even if they are smaller than their opponent.”
“That’s why you should never underestimate your opponent,” Gilles agreed, tussling Valentin’s hair. His nephew’s radiant smile softened Gilles’ frustration. “And how did the kid do? Did he do Orsulie proud?”
“He made it to the semifinals and might be able to make it to the finals but Leonard said that Rogier would kill him if he didn’t quit,” Valentin reported. “I think second place is really good so I hope he gets there and then gives up without getting beat too bad.”
“Good on the lad, did better than I had wagered him to do,” Gilles made a complicated face at the prospect of missing his chance to bet on Arnauld. “Who is Leonard?”
“Leonard Fortus,” Jeanne clarified on her brother’s behalf. “The Strettian champion.”
“You met Leonard Fortus?” Gilles asked incredulously, processing the information given to him. Eventually, his face turned to one of cautious concern. “Isn’t he dangerous? I heard that he had a body count.”
“He’s a perfectly polite man that was caught in an unfortunate situation,” corrected Jeanne. “He showed me that even the champion of the entire country knows that the sport he represented was cruel and destructive. Though I have a better understanding of why people risk their health for such a foolish game.”
“I see,” Gilles said with a puzzled look on his face. “So he didn’t kill those men.”
“No, he did,” answered Valentin matter-of-factly, neglecting to offer any amount of context that could help Gilles understand Leonard’s unfortunate position.
Gilles wiped his face with his right hand and gave up on understanding what he was told and moved on. “I’ll tell your parents that we came across a difficult customer. That should clear up any difficulties for our tardiness.”
“We’re late?” Jeanne’s face was drained of color. She had tried as hard as she could to make back at a reasonable time.
“Not quite an hour, but close enough to the beginning of the feast that your parents are going to be furious over it.” He gestured towards the Great Hall. “I’ll try to cover for you, but put on your jackets and let’s hurry to ensure that we will not embarrass your father in front of his snobbish peers any further than we already are.”
Valentin and Jeanne hopped on the back of the wagon while Gilles coaxed the horses forward. The bumps in the road caused Valentin’s teeth to rattle. Jeanne placed a hand on Valentin’s back and gently patted it for reassurance.
He covered his inelegant clothes with a dark blue cloak. While it was an improvement from how he just looked, he doubted that the haphazard appearance would be enough to assuage his father’s frazzled nerves.
Fortunately for both Valentin’s carriage sickness and their tardiness, it was a short ride towards the Great Hall and the cobbled streets of northern Roucotte allowed them to move more quickly at the expense of rattling far more than on dirt. The wagon made a rapid turn into the main commons surrounding the Great Hall and an army of servants scurried around processing horses, carts, and passengers. People adorned in vibrant clothing strolled into the Great Hall and towards the early evening feast.
Carriages with all manner of crests and decorations waited in the common areas, showing off the who’s who of the region. Valentin recognized a few as village leaders like his father alongside marking of businesses that operated in other parts of the region. The fact that most had been emptied and parked to the side made Valentin worry just how upset his parents would be if their seats were the last three vacancies at the tiarna’s table.
“Guest?” A servant of Lunoult asked as he halted the carriage.
“The Duvin party,” replied Gilles. “The remaining three of the invited five.”
The servant looked at a scroll and scribbled quickly upon it. He gave a gesture to Gilles and the three made their way off the wagon. Servants detached the horses from the cart and led them towards the stable while more servants pushed the wagon to the side to allow for the following guests to approach the staging area.
Now that the Great Hall was in full view, thoughts of the Ceremony returned to Valentin, rising his anxieties. He suddenly missed the numerous distractions that he passed and wished that one of them could successfully usurp his current thoughts.
Everything about his future would be decided inside of that building. Perhaps it was better for him to be late after all. If he never saw the results of his blood against the crystal, he could not be disappointed by the results.
Regardless of his own trepidations about the matter, he was still led along by his sister and uncle towards the entrance of the Great Hall. He could not avoid his collision course with fate. He would have to take it with whatever minute amounts of grace that he possessed. He found that his hands were quivering from the future that he could not avoid.
The moderately underdressed trio quickly walked through the open doors of the Great Hall. The large feasting hall was awash with the conversations of the elite of the region. The chatter echoed through the hall and assailed Valentin’s ears. Each man and woman inside wore a dashing color and a soft fur. It became very clear that their attire may not be up to the standards of other guests.
Vincent stood on the other side of the threshold and greeted each guest that entered the hall by name. He wore a warm smile on his face and the guests bowed before him before finding their seat within the hall.
Pungent odors of perfumed candles entered Valentin’s nose. Floral scents condensed into wax wafted from the burning wicks. He saw several candles per table and one where Vincent stood. They sat precariously atop the backs of wooden carvings of eagles with their wings spread wide. Hot wax dripped down the backs of the birds and into the dish it was standing in. The collected white wax looked akin to bird droppings. However, Valentin wouldn’t dare say such a thing aloud.
Luckily, he did not see any dishes steaming their delicious contents before the guests. They had managed to avoid the very worst consequence of their tardiness.
When it was the remaining Duvin’s turn to be greeted, only one member of the trio appeared to be worthy of acknowledgement. His eyes sparkled when they laid eyes upon Jeanne. While Valentin rolled his eyes, Gilles simply chuckled at the love-struck noble’s expense.
“How cute,” Gilles murmured to himself.
While Valentin did not know exactly what was cute about such things, he supposed there was something endearing about Vincent’s actions. As long as Jeanne enjoyed Vincent’s behavior, he could tolerate the repulsive display.
“Jeanne,” Vincent called joyously to the amusement of her uncle. “Y-you look resplendent even in menswear.”
“You’re very sweet, Vincent,” Jeanne warmly smiled at Vincent’s desperate effort to compliment her. “Apologies for being brief Vincent, but we are unfortunately later than we intended. If you don’t mind, we need to find our parents. Do you know where we are sitting?”
“At our table of course. You will be to the right of Father,” Vincent pointed at the Tiarna’s table that seemed to be nearly filled.
Valentin could see the large statue of Ogaro, the greatest decoration in Lunoult’s possession, standing behind the tiarna’s table. Bare-chested, the warrior of all warriors held the supporting beam above him with a mighty hand while he brandished one of his axes in the other. If things went well, maybe he too would have a statue of himself holding up an entire building.
He wondered if his father already spotted them. What look would he show them when they arrived? Nothing good, Valentin believed. He just hoped that the importance of the event stayed the worst of his father’s hand.
As the trio tried to make their way towards the table, Vincent grabbed for Jeanne’s hand.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Vincent requested.
Valentin’s sister put her other hand on Vincent’s and looked at her lover more kindly than she had in days.
“Vincent, I know I’ve been unfair towards your feelings as of late but I must beg for your continued patience,” she pleaded for understanding. “A lot of things have been going on at home recently and it’s made me uneasy. If you wait until after Killicia, I will give you a response that is worthy of the kindness that you have provided me.”
The Heir of Roucotte gulped.
“After Killicia,” he repeated with a weak smile. “I think I can wait that long if I know that you’ll talk to me.” He let go of Jeanne’s hand and moved his attention to the next guests.
While Valentin still did not quite approve of some of Vincent’s more shameless displays of affection towards Jeanne, he was still happy that it seemed that they were moving past that point. He thought that he could do far worse in terms of brothers in law. At least he was more enjoyable to be around than Louise’s droll husband.
Valentin felt his uncle’s hand grab his shoulder and shake him slightly. Gilles gave a smile and a quick wink to Valentin to reassure him. Worst came to worse, Gilles would take the blame for Valentin’s mistakes. Part of him felt dreadfully bad that he created the situation while the other part was relieved that he would not be the direct target of his parent’s ire.
“Into the den, eh?” Gilles asked as he nodded towards the Tiarna’s table.