The column riding to the City of Flowers was dozens strong, and the Crown Prince was surrounded on all sides by his bodyguards. His secretary and retainers rode further in the back, as Ames enjoyed looking ahead.
It seemed that the pleasant weather had brought out many others who needed to travel, and many rode alongside us while keeping a good distance. Most traveled upon horses small and large, lithe and limber, or thick and heavy. We noticed scouting patrols far off in the distance, galloping through the expansive fields of grass.
Our progress was only hampered by some stragglers and beggars that appeared on the road as our column approached. These were the last refugees of Stotor who were too late to leave the city and now wandered the wildlands during the winter. They came by the road, huddled against each other, wrapped in frayed and torn coats and blankets and scarves covering their heads, and reached out with open palms.
“Bread, prapush,” they repeated with throaty voices. Most were men, young and old.
And because we had stuffed our saddlebags full in Loran, we were charitable and had given away most of our foodstuffs before we had even reached our destination.
But even with the bread, wine, and cuenos we had given away, Prince Ames feared our charity did them little good in the long run.
“They should’ve stayed in Lottie, those poor fools! Now, when the cold comes back, inevitably it will, most will die.”
“Can something be done to help them?” I asked.
“Our people are generous and help these poor escapees as best they can,” said Ames. “They’re spared clothes, food and shelter, but most of these haggards are too lazy to go and ask. Hmm... lazy or too proud. And thus they stay on the road and beg for alms. I’m afraid there’s little we can do. And besides, we must make for the city quickly. I unfortunately, don’t have time to spare.”
We rode on and the heavy sound of hooves pounded the earth mightily. The ride was pleasant and fast, and hours passed quickly and the prince and I talked openly about our lives, different as they were. Topics soon turned personal, and I asked Ames about why he was still unmarried, knowing his father would soon abdicate. A bachelor king was unheard of.
“My father has tried setting me up with the Fiesi daughter,” said Ames with a smirk, his golden-brown hair tucked behind his ears and the tall collar of his coat turned down. “Piendro’s sister. She’s beautiful, make no mistake Jonas, but she has this… air of entitlement about her that I don’t like at all. By Hanuk! If she would become queen, she would empty my family’s coffers quicker than any war might.”
I smirked alongside the Crown Prince and said: “I find that hard to believe.”
“Don’t underestimate her, Jonas. These ladies of wealthy families always find ways of spending more argnos on themselves or their extravagant dinner parties than is necessary… But other than her, I’ve been too busy with my duties to the crown. Most of the new corisseri that we will have the honor of giving our blessings tomorrow had been my subordinates.”
“You led a cavalry company yourself, didn’t you?” I asked.
“I did, for almost ten years,” said Ames. “Even fought in a few skirmishes. Nothing compared to what we are fighting these days... But now my duties must change, and I alongside them. War is easy, in a way. Simple and straightforward, but the politics and diplomacies of being king are a whole other affair altogether. A crown is a pull for unwanted attention and ambition, especially by whom rules and the common good are of no concern. It is a constant battle to keep all the other families… courteous. But things are changing, Jonas. If my father can make the families understand the danger we are facing, I hope we’ll all be united. It would be a whole lot easier…”
“I can’t see how they won’t be. We must all be united. They must see that as well!”
“It might seem that way to those who have a pure heart, such as you, I sense. But war has always been a tool for the ambitious and morally gray of opening paths that were before closed to them,” said Ames with a sour note in his voice. “Let’s hope my father can properly handle these bugs scraping at our boots.”
We reached Lottie well past the stroke of midnight and rode straight to the Fascamonta castle that sat perched atop sharp cliffs of red on the southern flank of the town and the waves crashed against the rocks ceaselessly.
There a grand feast had been prepared for the Crown Prince and his retinue, and baron Fascamonta was delighted, though very surprised, to see me amongst his guests.
Baron Fascamonta had a beautiful wife, noble born and with delicate features—rich brown hair and dark eyes that pierced your very soul, but were also kind and soft. She spoke little but was polite and knew the traditions to perfection.
The baron’s four children were most excited about the guests, and, even though the hour was late, asked endless questions about this or that. And as on the road, Prince Ames was charitable with his time and his answers. We drank and ate delicious food, and spoke about pleasant topics and not of war and only very early in the morning did we finally retire.
On the following morning, we dressed fancifully for the upcoming ceremony and made our way to Pia de Mere, the main square of Lottie. Even at this hour, when the sky was a deep indigo color and there were only hints of a sunrise, hundreds of people had already gathered there, and taken the best spots.
The entire square was filled with soldiers, commanders, noblemen, small lords, and all who fit in between, and Prince Ames’s time was taken wholly by them. He spoke, surrounded by his bodyguards, secretaries, and aides, to men of war who wore long swords or stout maces and intricate coat-of-arms and insignias.
On Pia de Mere I saw soldiers wear uniforms I’d never seen before, and a few I recognized. A few men-of-war passed me, with the black rose pinned to his chest, saluted me, and then bowed. I replied in kind.
Then, in the later hours of the morning, the new corisseri had been assembled at the main square—over nine hundred cavalrymen taken from all regiments of the armies and thus was formed the new Corisseri of Orsin, led by none other than captain Attonio, the very man who saved me from certain death, on orders from the late captain Orsin himself. Twenty-three survivors of the old corisseri, five of whom were at the Krastarn, the others injured at Poscale or before that, were made lieutenants and sergeants of this new formidable force.
As a soft wind blew from the south, the golden plumes of the corisseri billowed, and the mighty flags of Lienor waved, the ceremony was carried out. Prince Ames spoke brave words of encouragement and then, at the sound of trumpets not unlike the ones that we rode into battle against Rasmog, did captain Attonio come forward before the Prince and proudly saluted. He received his gilded cavalry saber, gifted by the Crown Prince, and sanctified by the priests and monks of the temples.
Captain Attonio bowed deeply and then turned to me with suppressed grief. We shook hands and I sensed my presence at this ceremony meant a lot to the young captain, but neither of us said a word.
Recalling in vivid color the final moments of the battle before the Krastarn peaks dimmed my mood greatly, and I fell into grief. Rasmog’s poison seemed to grow stronger again, and my veins ached and muscles tightened. But I suffered through the ceremony until the end.
Then, when the sun was fading, and the hour grew late in the day, it was time to part ways with Ames.
“Thank you, Jonas, for sharing my travels, but now it seems we must part ways,” said the Prince and shook my hand with warmth and heartfelt gratitude. “Do have a rest and regather your strength, lord viscount. I trust you will reach Villa Occo without trouble, and there I hope to see you soon. Farewell!”
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The day had worn away and I made my way alone through the crowded streets to see Viola Grimaldi.
There were many people out in the streets enjoying the pleasant weather and seeing all the soldiers around. Columns of patrolling men passed by and many cavalrymen rode everywhere I turned my head, and of course, the presence of the King’s son, the Heir Apparent, was cause for much excitement. But I went on through the already familiar way, and Goxhandar’s constant chatter kept me occupied.
A pair of clean-cut men guarded the entrance to the barracks, and when these boys noticed my medallion of nobility that humbly dangled from my neck, Pitties’ mark, and the Pin of Scorro upon my breast, they stiffened and saluted. They dared not even utter a word.
Viola Grimaldi was there in her office, as I had expected. She was half-asleep at her desk, and the dimly lit room was filled with thin smoke from the dying fire in the woodstove. Stacks of papers and books lay spread about everywhere, and empty cups of tea were scattered on the floor and desks.
As I entered her office, she sprang up and, surprisingly, embraced me before noticing my medallion of nobility.
“The King made a very generous gift,” she said, feeding the fire a few gnarled pieces of wood and putting water to boil on the stove. “I’m humbled that you still remember the little people like me.”
I smirked over the joke and told her some of what my kingly gifts had been, and what my new duties would be. Viola’s purple-shaded eyes widened even more.
Then I asked her to come and visit me at my estate in Occo and she could hardly speak.
“Don’t be too surprised, Viola. I need you more than Lottie does.” She looked at me funny, but I continued. “You have many hidden and unawakened talents within you which we shall put to better use than the Lottie Guard. Under our guidance and tutelage, we will spark into life your magical powers. Please think seriously about my offer, and when you have the chance, visit me at my estate.”
Viola, still stunned, stuttered: “I’m—Of course I’m very interested, Jonas—lord Espian. You have the King’s blessing, you’re friends with the Crown Prince and the Royal Advisor, and now you’re offering me to work with you? I’d be insane to refuse! And… I feel mold growing on me here. No new cases are coming in and I fear my captain will transfer me to another unit any day now—”
“I can demand you be released from your Guard duties with only a letter,” I said.
“I think I can handle that part,” said Viola, pouring hot water into my cup and adding two large spoonfuls of lemon marmalade. “But I have one condition—I need to understand who this… Enemy is! You must promise me, Jonas!”
I looked into her pleading eyes and said: “I promise. You will come to understand who and what our Enemy is. Come early spring, and we will begin. But don’t get your hopes too high. The Order is only a few days old.”
“I always like to start a thing from the beginning,” said Viola with a smile. She brushed her raven-black hair aside and her purple-shaded eyes beamed brightly. I could almost notice a weight falling from her shoulders, but knew a new burden would soon fall upon it, one which she is yet unprepared for.
We spent the rest of the evening talking, and she asked much about the King and Prince Ames and Pitties, and with a fascination she listened to my stories.
The following day, I felt the need to leave the City of Flowers. I filled my saddlebags with even more trinkets and items of food than I had left Loran with. Before leaving, I made my way to Rosalda’s temple to thank her again, and extend an invitation to her as well. She had been most gracious while I was sick, and I thanked her again for her generosity.
*
This time I set out by myself, with my slow but dependable horse Velluta, and Goxhandar again whispering in my ear and my mood felt light as a feather.
The road was many miles long, leading south, and would end at a port town at the very tip of the Pania Peninsula. Being alone in the open road and fresh air felt freeing and more familiar than being surrounded by people. It wasn’t better, but I felt more comfortable.
Riding alone also had the benefit that I could finally relax my powers of perception, which had to be constantly reigned in, to not overwhelm my mind.
For many miles of this long road, Goxhandar and I theorized about how these new matters would unfold. Unsurprisingly, he was most interested in my growing influence in the kingdom, and how the Order of Hiskandrios would strengthen.
He was, though, distressed over the name I had chosen for the Order, but no amount of prying made him speak about the why.
“I had made an unbreakable promise to you, Master, to never talk about your private matters after leaving the cursed realm. I shall not tell a word, please stop asking!”
I sighed, and let the matter be, and we rode on.
It was pleasant going south—the weather was warmer with each passing mile, and strong winds softened and a salty breeze came from the east. The azure-blue ocean was to my left and wide fields and forests were to my right, with tall cypresses and pine trees dotting the land.
But a few times I could not help but think that this breeze that was so pleasant against my cheeks was the very same that had come from the Stotor peninsula, all those miles away across that blue bay to my left.
I hurried Velluta on and pondered about what kinds of evil things were happening daily in those lands. Was there another Vranik to ascend as a new Champion? What happened to Rasmog, whom I had broken, but not killed? And what about those rumors about horrifying wars in the far north, between Rielde and Limy?
My mind was filled with these worries, but as the miles stretched before me, and even more was left behind, these thoughts passed away into the wind.
Soon I reached Pianneturre again, the village I had passed before going to Lottie for the first time all those months ago. Its red-bricked houses were now full of activity, and the entire town was filled with Stotor and Lottie refugees. Tents had been erected on the outskirts and in the forest clearings. The lord of the village had, graciously, given work to these newcomers by expanding his castle that was built upon the cliffs much like baron Fascamonta’s castle, though much more humble and rustic.
Now Pianneturre was busy with work of all kinds—stonework, the making of mortar, shaping the rock upon which the new expansion would be erected, timbers were being cut and shaped, and much more work that I understood little. I also sensed mages nearby—sorcerer-architects, but their strength was slight. They had sensed my approach as well and came to greet me, and we spoke a few polite words about this and that, but I didn’t linger in their company. I had little interest in the enrichment of a petty lord, and I went on my way. As I myself passed through the town, I thought Pianneturre would soon become more than a town at the crossroads.
That night I spent at an inn. At first, they didn’t have a vacant room to offer me, but after sliding a single argnos—a silver coin—to the innkeeper, he made their best room ready. I left before sunrise and continued the road south.
By that time I was well within the provinces of Pania, which was lorded over in full by the de-Braccarte family, headed by Patricia de-Braccarte herself. The very one who gifted me my estate, and the very same whom I met back in Sanermo all those months ago. Her father was still alive, but old and frail now, and as his oldest child, the vast family fortunes, which were rumored to rival even the most wealthy of Lienor, were passed down onto her.
Patricia de-Braccarte was also an influential member of the High Council of the Cappesand Academy, though, during the past decade or so, she had been withdrawing to spend more time with matters that concerned her more than the petty whims of arrogant, noble mage-lords. She always had a one-sided rivalry with baron Esmail Piovasco de-Carsa from Cappesand, who thought she wanted his seat as head of the council, but in reality, this gave Patricia no interest in the slightest, and she simply enjoyed making the old baron irked.
At least, that was her version of these rumors.
The road went ever on, and along the seemingly infinite coastline against which crashed the foamy waves, I rode.
It was warm now, and I could open the first three buttons of my greatcoat, and enjoy the salty breeze against my face and neck. Trees were tall and wide and lush, and small green things still grew and bloomed, here and there, even during winter. During summer, the entire peninsula would explode into life.
So rich and fertile were the lands in the peninsula, that it exported its produce during the winter months to its northern provinces, and made good coin. While many southern provinces of Lienor were warm even during winters, none matched Pania with how fertile was its soil.
I passed small village after village, all abuzz with life, with narrow, winding streets and three-storied houses with thick wooden timbers and cream-colored plaster walls. The roofs were orange and teal and beige, and colorful cloths and flags were hung in many places. Wagons loaded with salted meat or fresh food rolled by and herds of goats or sheep were herded back into their pens. Now and then bands of kids ran after the animals with laughter or playing in the forests or fields.
Overhead was a calm blue sky, the deepest shade of blue that seemed almost otherworldy, and a few impossibly thick clouds above the ocean.
The people I passed were friendly, nonchalant, and unbothered by the medallion and golden honors that I wore proudly. They smiled and nodded, and went about their day, either smoking a pipe or playing a tabletop game on their little table.
Slowly the road drew away from the red-cliffed coastline and the echoing waves, and by midday, I could no longer see the ocean. But to my right, the low peaks of the Apierrini mountains, meaning small rocky mountains, came into view from behind the tall trees and roofs of houses. Bright red and yellow, jagged and sharp, these cliffs divided the peninsula in two but had over the centuries many pathways across or through them, and were said to have many ancient caverns and undiscovered treasures.
And still in every corner of the land was a small village or farmstead. It felt like no mile of land was left unused. People here seemed content and happy and moved slowly, as if time had little concern for them.
And as I rode on, I began recognizing the landscape from what Patricia had told me.
Soon I saw a lush tamarisk bush grow and there I turned onto a white gravel road that would take me home.