His body could only be described as rigid. All his joints felt locked and calcified by his resting body and he stood with a rigid posture.
Only a hundred paces away from Valentin stood Gladaghol Castle. The wall that the wagon disappeared into the night before seemed to be the only wall still completely intact. The rest of the structures had patches of walls that had crumbled, the usable stones long since taken and used on different buildings. He could see tents set in the exposed courtyard. Warriors were beginning to wake up and take up their posts around the fortification.
Whether it was the light or Valentin’s movements that served as the true indicator, the rest of the group stirred as well. They seemed to be in slightly better condition than the boy, but only marginally. They worked out the stiff joints and sore muscles that sleeping in armor rewarded them with.
Maeve, the only one not clad in the restrictive armor fared little better physically. But, mentally, she was worse. The raucous calls of the spirits seemed to have assaulted her soul constantly during the night. She appeared from the earth as a living corpse, the color drained from her face and the skin around her eyes discolored.
The group scuttled further away from the line of sight that the guard’s elevated perch offered them and moved towards the less fortified northern side of the fortress. Without the ability to use fire, they had little recourse but to regain their energy from dried meat and half stale bread.
“So, what now?” Dacin asked Valentin as the group finished their meal. He had returned to his post by Maeve’s side but seemed to be giving the girl space.
Valentin swallowed his bite and looked towards Henriette. “Henriette, you know what Sothin looks like?”
“Of course,” the warrior answered.
“Would you recognize his warriors from Etrineux?” Valentin followed up.
“Possibly a couple,” Henriette answered. “I did not serve under him so I am less acquainted with his warriors.”
“Alright,” Valentin remarked. “I want you to take point in the search and try to see if you can see Sothin or a warrior from Etrineux. If you find an opportunity, try to contact one secretly and arrange a meeting.”
“I can do that,” Henriette responded, slipping into the grass towards the castle. Soon after, the sounds of her rustling were indistinguishable from the passive swaying of the grasses tussled by the winds.
“Maeve, I think Dacin should take you away from here,” Valentin suggested to the druid. “It’s clear that staying here is harming you. You should wait in Galleat until Ferron passes through or we return.”
“But the spirits call out for freedom,” Maeve weakly responded. The voices acted as an anchor that drug her health down towards the depths.
“There’s nothing that we can do to free them. We are outnumbered at least twenty-five to one,” Dacin argued. “We’d die immediately and without purpose.”
“We have to give up on this one,” Valentin agreed.
Maeve likely would have put up a greater fight if there was any strength remaining within her. Instead, Dacin led her by the hand back towards the road. Before they disappeared into the grasses, Maeve offered Valentin one last pleading look of concern.
He gave her an apologetic stare in response. There was nothing that Valentin could do. He knew that a spiritual wrong had been enacted to gain those spirits, but he had no way to rectify this wrongdoing. Even if the entirety of Barth’s deg were hidden in the grass around him, he lacked the might to enact justice upon these people. All he could do is remember what happened here and report it to Ferron.
“It’s for the best,” Renne finally commented after the pair had left earshot. “If things go poorly, she would have been an obstacle to our escape.”
Valentin offered a passive nod in return. The two sat in silence in the overgrown field. There was little to do while they waited for Henriette to return to them with news.
“Renne, can I ask you a question?” Valentin asked, sensing an opportunity to address a burning question in his mind.
“What is it?”
“After the duel, why did you choose to stay?” Valentin wondered. “I understand everyone else’s reasons, but I can’t figure out yours or Coralie’s. I mean, I killed Killihan and I lost yesterday.”
“Sure, there was a time where I hated you for killing my friend and mentor,” Renne answered nonchalantly, his voice devoid of the anger Valentin anticipated. “After a time of staying with the Armée, I realized that I was just frustrated that we had lost. None of us were good enough to overturn our defeat, Killihan included. I was ashamed that he chose to die for me without allowing me to return the favor. When you came to ask me about Killihan’s sword, I knew that I had been unfair to you.”
“Is that so?”
“That alone wouldn’t be enough,” Renne corrected. “It was your duel that won me over.”
“The duel?” Valentin asked with genuine surprise. “But that was such an embarrassing defeat.”
Renne laughed, confusing Valentin further. “You’re but a boy yet you dueled a seasoned deggan and call your inevitable defeat embarrassing. You fought with spirit and tenacity, undaunted by the setbacks that were placed against you. When you said what you did about the sword, it told me you took those words to heart and reminded me of Killihan in a way. Seeing that, I decided I was going to take a risk that you would become someone even greater in the future. Try not to make me look foolish.”
“I’ll try not to disappoint,” Valentin replied.
Even though it was revealed to be yet another transaction in Valentin’s life, he did not feel disappointed. It was through his own efforts and merit that won Renne over, not empty promises that were made through his blood. Of course, just as Renne was relying upon Valentin’s strength, he too would be relying upon the warrior for support.
What in his life wasn’t a transaction? He had deals with Ferron, Hubert, Bassett, and Morna. The mission he was on was just another deal, a transaction in exchange for money and approval. Even his acts of kindness were transactions, his only purpose in helping Maeve with the spirits was so that she would treat him favorably. His gift that he planned for Bassett was no more than an idea conjured from the fear of being abandoned by his friend.
As the son of an ambitious merchant, he was well aware of the tactics used between parties. What he had not anticipated was how pervasive the concept was. Everything was wrapped within a trade. All deeds and items always were attached to an obligation, whether verbalized or not.
His own birth was likely a transaction.
Sensing that his mind was beginning to spiral, Valentin attempted to forcibly abandon his collapsing thought processes. Things couldn’t be so cold, it wasn’t possible that life was so barren of warmth. Just because an arrangement was made did not mean it wasn’t done from a place of love.
Unfortunately, with the lack of other stimuli, Valentin’s thoughts rattled between light and darkness. Full of contradictions and new forgotten information, the inner dialogue of a nervous child could not generate greater wisdom.
It wasn’t until Ortus returned to his domineering throne in the center of the sky that Henriette returned through the grass. It was on her return that Valentin noticed that the warrior had bent much of the grass to create a trail.
“Glad to see you made it back in one piece,” Renne greeted.
“Yes, thank you,” Henriette answered. She seemed to take note of the two additional absences but was not surprised.
“What have you discovered?” Valentin inquired, wishing to drive to the point.
“I saw Sothin Marche within the castle,” Henriette began her report.
The rush of vindication that Valentin felt at those words almost made him lose focus on the words that would follow. His efforts had not been misguided.
“I managed to gain the attention of a fellow warrior of Etrineux and convinced them to pass along a message for us,” Henriette continued. “If Sothin accepts, I have been given a meeting place for us to wait.”
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“We should reposition ourselves there then,” Valentin suggested.
“And if it turns out to be a trap?” Renne asked. “What if they don’t trust a person that slipped out of the grass asking to meet with their hunted noble? The day after a wagon full of silver was assaulted by unknown assailants no less.”
Valentin frowned. The exuberance of his initial success had temporarily blinded him to the dangers inherent to the plan. If caught, his connection to Ferron would be quickly made. He might not die immediately, but he was certain they’d be suspected for the attack yesterday.
“We should at least try to locate the area from a distance,” Valentin argued. “If it causes our instincts to scream, we will abandon the mission.”
“I can agree to that,” Renne answered.
“Please, Henriette, lead us to this meeting place,” Valentin requested.
Grass made way for more grass as they navigated the sprawling overgrown fields of Gladaghol. After spending so long amongst the swaying stalks, Valentin felt as though these fields were truly endless. It was as if he always existed here.
However, they were led to somewhere new. A freshly cleared path extended northwards from Gladaghol Castle and snaked its way through the fields. Henriette followed the path for a short time until they reached the long since abandoned remains of whatever village used to exist at the foot of the castle. All of the wattle and daub structures had been destroyed and the wider dirt roads were full of sprouted vegetation from seeds that the wind blew their way.
The only surviving indicators of the settlement sprung from the lone stone structure that sat along the path. Whatever its original purpose was lost to time, the stones were washed by the endless wind and light and rain without care given towards it. Inside, the wooden floors had burned or rotted away leaving an empty two story structure with no roof.
“This is the meeting place,” Henriette announced. “If Sothin has accepted our meeting, he will go for a ride along this path and stop here.”
“Do we have good visibility of the castle from here?” Valentin asked.
Renne grabbed one of the stones and gave it a tug. Satisfied with the sturdiness of the wall, the warrior clambered up the side to gain elevation. Blocking the glare from Ortus’ light with one hand, the warrior gazed southward.
“Not great visibility, no,” Renne commented from his perch. “However, I will be able to know if anyone leaves the north side.”
“Let me know if you grow weary, I will go up there if needed,” Henriette called up to the warrior.
Valentin tried to find a comfortable shaded place on the ground to rest. He leaned his back against the stone wall and sprawled out his legs. The warmth of Ortus’ light combined with his difficulties sleeping the night before created the ideal conditions to drift into a brief slumber. His will to stay awake was weak and he began to nap.
However, it was not long before something caught Renne’s eye.
“Riders departing from the north,” he reported down below.
“How many?” Henriette asked.
“Four, perhaps five,” Renne answered.
It wasn’t until he felt a hand grab onto his shoulder and gently shake him that Valentin stirred from his shallow rest. He startled awake causing Henriette to take a step back to avoid his sudden flailing.
“Huh? Wha-”
“Deggan Valentin, riders are approaching,” Henriette informed.
Valentin rose to his feet groggily, wiping the beginnings of sleep away from his eyes. He blinked a few times and allowed his mind to recover.
“Then we should prepare for their arrival,” the boy replied. “How many are we dealing with?”
“Four or five,” Henriette repeated.
“Is that it?” Valentin asked with a surprised voice. “Doesn’t feel like enough for a trap.”
“I see nobody else following yet,” Renne confirmed, climbing down from his vantage point. “It will likely only be that group. They’re either skilled or arrogant.”
“Henriette, are they planning on meeting with you directly?”
“No,” the woman shook her head. “I told them that I was representing someone else.”
“I see,” Valentin responded. “I will remain in the open and you two will hide yourself in the grass. If you detect a fight is about to start, ambush them.”
Renne gave a look that seemed to ask whether Valentin was sure of his decision. The boy’s nod was enough to have him comply and slip into the grass with Henriette.
Valentin spent the rest of the time composing himself. He leaned against the wall of the structure and focused on his posture to exude a confident energy. He adjusted his hair which now was in the style of an unkempt anastole and touched his wispy mustache with some amount of concern. Regardless of his outwardly appearance, if he used the proper etiquette and words, he would succeed.
Compared to the cautious approach that the trio had employed to reach the meeting place on foot, the direct speed of the riders took them to the meeting place in just a few minutes. A plume of dust followed the horses over the path, heralding their approach just a moment before they arrived.
Once both parties could see each other properly, Valentin moved from his position against the wall and placed himself in the center of the path. He swept his cloak to the side to reveal the longsword at his side.
The riders slowed their horses at the sight of the boy, halting the beasts just a few paces away from Valentin. A young man in his early twenties rode in front. He wore a wine colored riding cloak and sported a well-manicured goatee. His eyes were focused intently on the boy that stood in front of him. Something in the formation of the man’s neutral expression reminded the boy of Julianna Marche.
“Who are you to have called for me carrying the word of my clan?” The rider demanded.
“My name is Valentin Guerros of Verbosc,” the boy greeted with a shallow nod. As he technically outranked any of the Marche Clan, he could not make the error as to bow. “I made an agreement with Julianna Marche to locate and contact her brother, Sothin Marche. Are you him?”
“I am he,” Sothin confirmed with a small flourish of his cloak. His eyes narrowed. “Why is a person of your position hiding out in the grass like a fugitive?”
Valentin chose his words carefully so as to not come across as deceitful. “We saw that there was a recent attack on the roads. While we were not involved in the attack, we knew that it was unwise to approach the gates of a recently assaulted warband. I am sure that you cared little about the disappearance of some silver pieces. However, I could not confidently say that about your hosts.”
The man smirked at the boy’s answer. “Indeed. They have been in a frenzy over such a small disappearance. Less than a fifth of the expected amount was plundered. Tell me, Young Master Guerros, how does my sister relate to the rulers of the Thuad River Bridge? I doubt the Emerald Blade of Verbosc had her heart moved sufficiently to dispatch her clan to track down the remnants of a ruined clan without proper compensation.”
“The Matriarch has a kind heart,” Valentin rejected the noble’s assertion of his aunt. “However, you are correct. It is not the Guerros Clan that has acceded to your sister’s request. It was Ferron Martelle.”
Sothin Marche’s face darkened at the name of the warlord. His escort hovered their hands over their blades.
Valentin raised his hand. “Peace, good Marche. If it was the Armée du Corbeaux’s intention to cause you harm, it would have already been done. Our arrangement with Tiarna Celfor is concluded and we have no further interest in hunting the Marche Clan. The fact that you rushed over here without considering that possibility makes me wonder if Julianna is the only calculating one in your clan.”
Sothin scowled at Valentin’s mild provocation. However, the boy’s words went a ways to revealing to the man that his counterpart did have knowledge of his sister.
“Tell me about my clan and I will decide whether or not I wish to cooperate with you,” Sothin barked.
“Very well,” Valentin responded. It was not as though anything that he knew was a secret. “Nearly sixty days ago, as the frost thawed, Julianna Marche gave birth to a son and named him Firmin. Congratulations.”
Sothin’s eyes softened but he did not yet grow cooperative. “Go on.”
“Harald Marche abdicated his titles on behest of his council due to concerns of a terrible infection. Ortaire Forstier married Harald’s eldest daughter, Parsnip, at the end of last cycle. Estelle Forstier is acting as regent until the girl comes of age.”
Sothin seemed surprised that Valentin used his niece’s nickname to refer to her. However, that did not help salve the anger that he displayed over the news that came with it.
“What of the rest of my siblings? And my mother?” Sothin continued his interrogation.
“Your mother lives in poor health. Unfortunately, you, Julianna, and Harald are the only living children of Firmin Marche,” Valentin reported.
Sothin’s face darkened and the rest of his entourage silently fumed at the information. Valentin could empathize with the man’s difficult situation. He was told by a recent enemy that much of his clan was dead and his sister wishes to meet with him.
“Unfortunately, I cannot meet with my sister,” Sothin replied with a conflicted face. “In the morning, we will be departing on our expedition north. I cannot afford to wait additional days before departure.”
“I see,” Valentin replied, masking his disappointment that, despite his efforts, he would be just short of his goal.
“However, I will write my sister a letter detailing everything going on and where to contact me. I will leave this letter in your care to deliver to Julianna.”
“Is there a way that I can convince you to remain until the morning after tomorrow?” Valentin asked, hoping that he could still arrange the meeting.
“How do you intend to justify such a request?” Sothin asked in response.
“Six days past, I sent word to your sister naming Gladaghol Castle as your likely location,” Valentin explained. “If my courier and your sister rode with any sense of urgency, they are likely already in Galleat, waiting until your allies leave before arriving here.”
Sothin scratched his chin. “Even if I did meet with her, she would certainly try to convince me not to go. I worry that she will succeed in those efforts. I cannot afford to abandon my convictions now.”
“Is that a good enough reason to not meet with your sister?” Valentin demanded.
“What?”
Valentin channeled his own selfish thoughts into his reply. If he had heard that one of his sisters was trying to meet with him, he would jump on the opportunity without a second thought. Thinking from this perspective, he realized how desperately he wished to see them again. Such petty thoughts about conviction would not sway him in that choice.
“If it were my sister, I would do anything to see them again,” Valentin replied with more bite than he likely should have used. “Yet you are going to run because you are afraid that you will cast aside your convictions. Are both your love towards your sister and your convictions so frail that you must abandon one to maintain the other? Please do not cast aside a meeting to your own pride. You will regret it.”
Where Valentin expected to find rage from the man, he only found shame. Sothin managed to meet Valentin’s eyes, but the boy felt as though the man were staring past him to some unknown horizon.
“You are correct,” Sothin conceded, a defeated sigh wriggling from his chest. “I cannot face myself if I flee from this chance. However, I must leave by the morning after tomorrow. If Julianna did not act in response to your words, then I will leave a letter with you. Once the rest depart, feel free to enter castle grounds.”
With that, the man turned his horse and rode back to the castle, his posture much smaller than it had been upon his arrival.