The second leg of the journey from Arnesbourg to Sarcinel passed much quicker and more efficiently than their first leg. Continued good fortunes with the weather allowed for traversal over of the gentle fields of Orso without so much as a hiccup. Lengthened days allowed for more mileage, animals willing.
However, the most notable change to Valentin lied in the behavior of his warriors. Many of his warriors were more willing to volunteer for extra tasks. They seemed more attentive and proactive when it came to Valentin’s needs and the needs of the deg at large. For the first time since he had be gifted Vescal, someone other than him brushed dirt from the horse. If he had not known the cause, Valentin would have long since fallen to paranoia.
True to Cathmor’s personality, the hulking man was almost unbearably braggadocios when he passed by the drinking warriors with a courtesan on each arm. In a similar fashion to his lack of humility, he spared no time regaling the group with all the details of his reward.
If anything, Cathmor oversold Valentin’s generosity. What was no more than a convenient way to instill some motivation within his warriors and offload an awkward situation was spun as a lavish preparation of women and a tepid bath. It wasn’t until Valentin had stumbled upon Cathmor telling the story for the umpteenth time did he realize that Cathmor used his dirty bath during his escapades. In light of the upgrade to the perceived reward, Valentin was given the conundrum of what he would have to offer next.
The trip into Sarcinel was the deg’s first taste of rain in several days. Gray clouds and heavy water turned made the sizable fortress of Sarcinel, lynchpin of southern Rilleon, appear more a mountain than something crafted by human hands.
Tears from the weeping sky made the usually bustling streets of the large town nearly nonexistent. Only those that were in desperate need traveled on the same streets as the warriors. Fortunately, prior activity from the Armée in the area meant that Valentin did not have to investigate a decent inn and got his warriors out of the rain quickly.
Valentin selected a sizable inn called Three Wolves for their resting place. While a fair step down from the Fluttering Dove and lacking the luxury baths that Valentin felt spoiled by, it had the best drink according to the prominent alcoholics of the war band.
With the rain came a convenient blessing. Valentin could survive his warrior’s expectations by purchasing them a round and buying some extra drinks for those that he noticed working exceptionally hard. Kerwin, motivated by his tempered rivalry with Cathmor led the pack alongside Gair, Gélique, and Caera.
Something Valentin learned was that it was the free drinks that inspired the most amount of song from people. The downstairs tavern was gifted the dulcet tones of hardened killers, stranded merchants, and local drunks. From his position at the center of the group, Valentin wished that some unnamed members of the tipsy choir belted their ballads of abandoned lovers and wayward youths at a slightly lower volume. However, he did not want to be the raincloud inside the inn. To compound the situation further, Renne, the one Valentin would have nudged to take the lead in subduing the group was the one with the loudest voice of them all.
Predictably, both Maeve and Zalavo did not last long past their dinners. The pair disappeared without much fanfare; something Valentin wished that he could have done as well. Instead, he had to pretend to know the words to the songs and try not to look too outwardly hateful.
Valentin felt an arm wrap around his waist as he was pulled into a half-embrace from the side. The provider of this unwanted contact was Caera. He felt as though he were hugged by a statue. The woman’s well-trained arm muscles dug into his ribs and he wondered if her body had any understanding of what fat even was.
The contact made his ancestor’s mask rattle. Eyeless holes looked directly up at the woman. Valentin did not know what the spirit mimicking his grandfather wished to say, but he did not wish to hear it.
“This is much better time than that high-nosed place in Arnesbourg,” Caera mostly shouted into Valentin’s ear while the crowd around him sung a spirited tune about dismemberment. “We are much better suited for a place like this. No offense to the Master of Guerros, I suppose a man of your status requires different things to be happy.”
“Apologies, I picked the last one for selfish reasons,” Valentin admitted, using his clan’s wealth to keep eyes away from the more difficult true reason. “Though I don’t think we would have been allowed there two nights.”
“Right you are,” Caera cheerily agreed, offering Valentin another affectionate death squeeze. “If the innkeep isn’t careful, we may demolish this place before the night is through.”
Despite their uncomfortably close physical proximity, Valentin saw that Caera wasn’t looking at him at all. It did not take long to see what the entire purpose of this interaction was. On the other end of Caera’s gaze stood a stormy looking Zoe.
Looking between both women, Valentin couldn’t decide which of them would prove to be more troublesome in the future. The prospects of the potential situation in the future left him feeling suddenly exhausted. A night that he could have lasted deeply into was quickly curtailed. Fortunately, it seemed that his warriors were one round away from a natural wind down. The songs were less spirited and people stumbled about half awake.
After sparing a couple silver for the frazzled innkeeper, Valentin made his exit towards his room. He found that Caera accompanied him along the stops he made towards the upstairs of the inn.
“I don’t appreciate being used as a tool in your rivalry, Caera,” Valentin admonished his warrior when he felt like they were finally alone. “I played along to not ruin the night. However, you will find I am far less agreeable next time.”
“It was just some harmless fun, Deggan Valentin,” Caera jested, ignoring Valentin’s tone. “Besides, it’s her own fault for lacking any sense of subtly. Anyone could see it.”
Valentin nodded slowly. He had some pride in his ability of observation. However, he was still woefully unskilled when it came to affections directed at him. Such emotions always carried a threatening air with them. What Valentin perceived as a budding friendship now became something he felt he would need monitor far more closely to avoid a terrible misunderstanding down the road.
“Regardless, taking advantage of matters of the heart will quickly turn friendly spars deadly,” Valentin warned.
“I wouldn’t lose to her in a fight,” Caera replied confidently much to Valentin’s chagrin. “Besides, I am far more interested in casual companionship.”
She took a long step towards Valentin. Valentin noticed that she made an effort to choose tight clothing that showed off her imposing physique. Her impressive height put her at eye level with Valentin. Her brown eyes bounced playfully, locked directly on her deggan.
“I make it a point to not form such a relationship with my subordinates,” Valentin recited sternly. He had thought up a statement on the off chance such a situation arose. Despite his convincing that it would be unnecessary, it came predictably useful. “I have been advised that far too many leaders fail when they have unequal emotions towards their warriors. I do not intend to be that lesson to someone else.”
“How rigid,” Caera replied with an indifferent shrug. “Though it does explain the courtesans.”
“Draw your own conclusions,” Valentin invited hotly, pointing his nose away from Caera. “Return to your own room, Caera. We have another early morning tomorrow and I cannot rely on you if you are exhausted.”
“I will do so, Deggan Valentin,” Caera acknowledged with a bow. “However, if you ever find yourself changing your mind, my interest is always on the table.”
Valentin watched Caera give him an over the shoulder wave. He sighed and burped up the taste of wine and meat pie. After suppressing the rising ingredients and taking a few large breaths, Valentin touched the handle to his room.
Unfortunately for him, the inn had no rooms with single beds and he would have to share his night with Guain. The handsome warrior had graciously offered to stay with him. Before he even turned the handle, Valentin could hear the sounds of carnal activity within. He removed his hand from the door and chose to lean again the opposite wall. Once again, the mask vibrated against its uncaring descendant’s leg.
He felt as though it was his own fault accepting Guain’s offer. The warrior had a reputation of wooing at least one person whenever they had stopped in a town. It was Valentin’s own foolishness that tricked him into thinking that Guain would restrain himself for a night.
At some point, Guain exited his room with his arms wrapped around a barmaid. He kissed the back of her neck and whispered sweet nothings before spotting his delirious leader sprawled out in the hallway.
“Deggan Valentin!” Guain yelped, gently pushing the woman away from him to attend to Valentin. “Shit. What are you doing out here?”
“Keeping watch since you turned my room into a brothel,” Valentin spat with a sludgy voice.
A vexing night turned to a vexing morning. Yesterday’s rain was replaced with mist and fog. Water within the fallen cloud clung to skin and quickly soaked everything that it touched. Darkened skies only further compounded upon Valentin’s restless sleep. Fortunately, the cold mist prevented him from nodding off and continued poor weather made the exit from Sarcinel all the smoother.
The first day of the third leg was slow. His warriors inherited much of Valentin’s exhaustion. Additionally, most were far more hungover than their deggan; their complexions pallid and their pace lethargic.
Guain, sensing that he squandered a major opportunity to land solidly in the good graces of his leader, rode with his tail between his legs. Even amongst the ghastly appearance of Valentin’s deg, he looked especially poor; gathering plenty of verbal jabs from his friends. As Valentin’s body forced him to be awake, he considered consoling his warrior but ultimately decided against it. It would be better if this served as a low stakes consequence to not taking his responsibilities seriously.
After a predictably early retirement by the warriors, the next few days brought far more promising progress. As they got closer to Jervin, the roads were suffocated with travelers and villagers of all sorts. It was a congestion that Valentin had only ever seen during holidays and festivals. However, this day, by all accounts, was entirely ordinary. It left Valentin wondering what the region would look like under such conditions.
The heavily populated region supported numerous villages along the road and made it difficult to find a suitable place to camp some nights. The deg had to push themselves further and further away from the roadside in order to find an uncontested patch of ground.
The massive walls of the Strettian capital were seen well over a day before they got anywhere near the city. It appeared as though the city were built inside a mountain whose top had been shorn off by some invisible powers. Impossibly tall minarets of Aeróg Palace pierced the cloudy sky and gave the impression that the thin towers even breached the Higher Plane.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Valentin stared at the minarets for hours, daydreaming about what it was like within the palace that hosted the royal family. If he survived to see the completion of his deal with Ferron, it was more than likely that his life would end somewhere within those royal environs. Those morbid thoughts kept drawing his eyes towards the hidden tops of the minarets. Valentin was convinced that somewhere, up there, he was being watched. Sinister eyes that tampered with his life pierced the sea of bodies to pinpoint his location.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Mannix asked, sensing that he had experienced a novelty that his leader had not. “I remember when I saw it as a boy. I strained my neck trying to see the top.”
“I wonder what it feels like to stand at the top and look down below,” Valentin wondered aloud.
“You’d be as close as a person could be to being a god,” Kerwin speculated. “People would lose all meaning from up there.”
“Not that we’d ever get there,” Mannix replied with a wistful sigh. “We aren’t the ones that are allowed to have our heads in the sky.”
The population kept rising more and more the closer they drew to the capital. The ground was invisible below the mass of bodies. In their approach to the city, the group was taken to a halt; swept into the long line of people trying to make their way inside. Valentin could feel his anxiety levels heightening, fueled by the constant thoughts of the past days.
Instead of braving the suffocating main avenues of the city, the group split from the main crowd and took one of the roads that circumvented the city. For much of the day, they were flanked by the massive stone walls of Jervin. He knew that some warriors were disappointed not to step foot inside, but the easier progress they made along the peripheries of the capital went far to convince them their leader made the correct decision.
Statues of lions prowled the walls at regular intervals, their faces peering through the crenulations. The stone sentinels stared with their gilded eyes at the travelers beneath. Bared teeth dissuaded invaders that haven’t existed in hundreds of cycles.
Even as they followed the northeast road away from Jervin, there was no relief from the saturation of people. Numerous paths wound away from the main road towards bordering villages and towns.
Valentin led the escort into one such village. Two days had passed since they cleared the capital and four more awaited them before their next prescribed stop. The energy within his deg was frazzled at best. Days were spent being alert towards all that got their hands too near horses and cargo while nights were spent on chilled ground a mile off the road.
While Valentin would not have been opposed to stopping prematurely, the village they entered offered little in the way of amenities worthy of spending any time on. A smattering of small dirt houses haphazardly flanked the road. What interested Valentin was the cropping of stalls that sat at the far end of the village. From his vantage point atop Vescal, Valentin saw the paltry offerings. Black spotted onions, small brown-skinned potatoes, and suspicious mushrooms filled the bins of one of the more popular stalls along the way.
Flanks of meat hung from hooks behind a stern looking man whose beard and eyebrows covered the majority of his face. He used a brush made of what appeared to be his own beard hair to swat away probing flies that gravitated towards his wares.
“Shall we restock our provisions here?” Renne asked Valentin.
“I find everything here to be barely edible,” Valentin complained of what he had seen. “That man over there has slapped that lamb flank five times and an entire colony of flies flew off.”
“Maggots don’t survive a good smoking and salting,” Renne replied optimistically. Seeing Valentin’s unmoved reaction, he continued. “Look, we need to allow them to buy something. How long do you think that they will chew on bread for every meal before they go feral?”
“As long as they don’t eat anything raw, there should be no issues,” Zalavo spoke, surprising the two warriors.
“Fine,” Valentin consented after hearing the healer’s advice. “Be sure to tell them to buy things suitable for a stew and not to linger here too long. Our appearances are too nice for this place.”
“Yes, Deggan Valentin,” Renne confirmed with a nod.
“Listen up!” Renne shouted through cupped hands. “Deggan says that you can stop here and get some food for the next few days. But, you have to cook everything you buy here thoroughly so you don’t shit yourselves to death. I need cargo guards and someone to guard the deggan and the healers. Let’s move quickly.”
Valentin, despite his repulsion towards the offered fare, took to the nicer of the dismal stalls to purchase his resupply. His presence unintentionally caused those that were waiting before him to quickly part to allow him through. Beside him stood Marotte, his volunteered guard, who inspected the surrounding people and wares with even greater keenness than Valentin. Her piercing eyes exuded an uncomfortable energy that scattered the waiting peasants further and even unsettled Valentin with its intensity.
He inspected a few vegetables with a dissatisfied expression. If there had been anything worthwhile, it had already been picked clean from the stand.
The owner of the stand, a mousey looking man, offered Valentin a nervous smile. His mouth revealed yellowed teeth and brown gums; further plummeting Valentin’s appetite. Valentin’s expressionless face caused the stand owner’s eyes to stray away from him.
“Is there anything that you’d like, Master?” A fearful voice asked. “We have the nicest selection for miles.”
“I feel great misery hearing that,” Valentin replied plainly.
“It is not so bad,” Maeve commented from her hiding spot behind Valentin. “There is no rot and the imperfections are small enough to cut out without wasting it.”
“The esteemed Druid has a sharp eye,” the stand keeper complimented with a bow. “I am glad that you can appreciate these goods.”
“If you’d like, I can select the best ones for you if you pay for mine as well,” Maeve offered Valentin in a tone too akin to Zalavo’s for Valentin to appreciate. “I’ve had many dealings while shopping for ingredients in the past.”
Without waiting for Valentin’s answer, Maeve began taking produce from the stall and placing it into a sack. A few yellow onions here, a few dirty turnips there, and numerous small potatoes. She ran her fingers over the surface of the vegetables with a more directed aim than Valentin’s random fondling. As her bag filled, the stall owner seemed to be adding totals in his mind; no doubt with a surcharge for Valentin’s visible wealth.
She placed a large handful of round-capped button mushrooms in with the rest of her haul. She grabbed a few that Valentin could not identify before stopping her hand over a variety that was just as unknown as the rest.
“I recommend that you get rid of this type,” Maeve said to the owner. “You’d need to eat many for it to be fatal, but you will be ill if you eat one.”
A look of surprise crossed the stand owner’s face. Hushed murmurs from the other peasants that were waiting in line. The well-meaning words of the holy woman may inadvertently become the death knell for this merchant’s business.
“I-I’m sure that there is a mistake,” the stand owner stammered in shock before defending himself more firmly. Refuting Maeve was his only route to salvation. “I haven’t had an issue in as many cycles as I have run this stand. Perhaps this is just a variety not native to where you are from.”
“Who picked these for you?” Maeve inquired.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that unless you are grabbing every mushroom you find carelessly, then you have someone gathering these for you,” Maeve explained. “Have you ever sold this variety before?”
“Old woman must be going blind,” the stand keeper muttered angrily under his breath. “No, I have not sold this type before. I will dispose of it unless there is something the druids would need it for.”
“I have no need,” Maeve answered sharply. “How much do we owe you?”
“Ten or so bulls should be sufficient,” the stand owner said. “Thank you for educating me, esteemed druid.”
Valentin fished out the required coins and handed it to the merchant. The pair departed the stand, leaving Marotte behind to finish her shopping; the abandoned warrior made a conflicted face before turning to tend to her own needs. He wouldn’t need much protecting anyways. Everyone that they passed moved to the side to avoid any risk of confrontation with the armed warrior.
“Did Zalavo teach you that?” Valentin asked Maeve as they walked away from the stall.
“No, I used to go on foraging parties when I was younger,” Maeve replied. “I even did so in Lutant whenever I had the chance.”
“I don’t recall you ever sharing with me,” Valentin reminisced playfully.
Loud silence filled the space between them. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to dwell on those days. It was better to close that chapter entirely.
Instead, Valentin turned his attention to the butcher he saw earlier. The large man forced away another swarm of flies with his beard brush. Seeing it closer made Valentin more anxious of the thoughts of maggots in his dinner. A lamb shoulder sat in the middle of a wooden board stained with blood. There were no noticeable flaws with the cut, but Valentin no longer had the willingness to place faith in anything he purchased here.
“Dried meat,” Valentin said before the butcher could offer them anything else.
With that, Valentin and Maeve returned to the horses and carts where Gair and Guain stood near Zalavo. The handsome man of the warrior pair volunteered for every task that came his way, likely in the hopes of overcoming his failures in Sarcinel.
“Where’s Marotte?” Gair asked, noticing that his deggan’s escort was nowhere near her assignment.
“Procuring supplies for the two of you, I’d guess,” Valentin answered. “It’s not as though I need protecting anyways.”
“Well, if you’re fine with it,” Gair conceded, scratching the side of his head. “We did ask her to buy us something to eat while we waited here.”
Valentin brushed Vescal while he waited for the others to finish. Puffs of dust fled the horse’s coat and the beast shook before returning to its calm posture. The other mounts seemed to look enviously at Vescal for the special treatment he was receiving.
A shout followed by hushed talking snapped Valentin from his mindless maintenance of Vescal. Before he looked in the direction of the noise, his stomach sank with the thought that his warriors had caused issues. However, Gair and Guain seemed to be watching the scene play out impassively.
Two dirty men in ratty clothes stood over a pair of grimed children. The kids sat in front of a pile of sticks and a pile of straw. One of the kids, the larger of the two, clutched at their reddened face after it was struck by one of the men.
“What’s going on over there?” Valentin asked his warriors who appeared to have been paying more attention.
“Just some mean spirited harassment amongst the dregs,” Gair answered with some contempt in his voice. “Looks like the kids were trying to sell some straw and firewood where they weren’t allowed to. Shit like this happens everywhere you go.”
“That’s fairly meager for firewood,” Valentin observed. “You’d need some logs to keep it burning.”
“Are you allowed to just freely chop down trees in the south?” Gair asked incredulously. “Up here, you aren’t allowed to chop anything down without permission of the tiarna and the temple.”
“I’ve never heard of such restrictions,” Valentin admitted.
“It makes sense for someone as esteemed as you not to know. My father was an approved woodcutter,” Gair said, puffing out his chest with pride. “We were allowed to chop down ten trees a cycle to sell for profit. Everyone else has to sell whatever falls off as kindling. It’s not bad business, probably why those two look so pissed.”
“How difficult,” Valentin replied. His eyes drifted to Maeve who looked to be taking the scene with more difficulty than Valentin.
“Eh, they’ll probably take a beating, hide out for a few days, and go right back to selling,” Gair commented. “I used to drink with a man who grew up like this. One of his cheeks was more scarred that the other and his ribs would hurt in rainstorms, but he was fine enough.”
Valentin watched the scene play out like Gair had speculated. The two kids were beaten by the adult’s open palms. While not life threatening, Valentin could not help but sympathetically wince when a fairly vicious strike landed.
It was the larger one that was taking the brunt of the one-sided aggression. They shuffled themselves between the adults and the smaller child. Either it was an unlucky day for these children or this was not the first run-in they shared. It began to go on for an uncomfortable amount of time. Yet Valentin did not step in; as long as the kid was not going to die, there was no need to bring unneeded eyes to them.
If everyone in his deg followed that logic, then things would have ended sooner than later. Valentin saw no further need in watching and returned to his horse.
“Ah shit, what’s she doing?” Guain groaned.
“Who?” Valentin asked.
“Your favorite troublemaker, Zoe, has decided that she’s going to get herself involved,” Gair remarked sourly before perking up with a wide grin. “Oh, she looks pissed.”
Valentin looked over just in time to see his warrior strike one of the men in the jaw with her fist. A spray of blood erupted in the air and the gloved fist ripped lips open and ejected loosened teeth. Fortunately, she did not appear to use favor and the man collapsed with his life intact. The other one foolishly charged before being quickly dropped into the ground by a flurry of blows.
While the men retreated, Zoe knelt before the pummeled kids and spoke some soft words to them. She held out her hand, presumably to give them money or food, and left the children to their unsettled piles of wares. Before Valentin had the opportunity to say anything, Renne had already reached the woman’s side to give her an earful of Valentin’s wrath on the deggan’s behalf.
The other warriors hurriedly finished their lazy shopping and fled to the larger group in preparation to slip away before anyone that resembled authority arrived. Zoe had to pass Valentin to reach her horse. She took the initiative of the unavoidable conversation and stole the first words from Valentin.
“Apologies, but I’d do it again,” she stated firmly, her expectations of Valentin’s words already formed her responses. “If you disapprove, it’s better if you don’t say anything. I’d like to keep a good impression of you.”
“As long as you do things properly, it doesn’t matter,” Valentin replied. “If you had killed them, I may have had different words.”
A look of relief crossed Zoe’s face. Valentin was sure that there was something more that she wished to share with him, but instead, she furrowed her brows and buried it. Even if she had wished to speak up, they did not have the time to dally and exchange casual words. Valentin wished to be far from this place and cook his suspicious looking ingredients in peace.
“When you feel like telling the story, I’ll listen.”