Chapter 28 - The Alardice Manor

Magrath, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995

Isolde returned with a new pair of gloves identical to the ones she’d just purchased, which she handed to Amara, and a large bag of other supplies that made Amara raise an eyebrow when she saw it.

“One of the watchmen was there and recognized me,” she said simply. “The store owner gave me a discount for helping fend off the Aberrations.”

“Nice.”

A quick rummage through the bag revealed fresh clothes to replace their torn ones, food, and Amara was just inspecting some fresh bandage rolls when she heard the sound of approaching hooves. By then, most of the wounded had been moved from the square and there were only watchmen and guards left continuing to clean up. Glenn was an obvious addition as he dismounted from his horse, which remained perfectly still as he did so. The horse’s coat was a dark, silky black that matched the man’s uniform and hair. The creature turned its head, staring in their direction with large eyes.

“I apologize for making the two of you wait,” Glenn said with a nod. Amara noted that he looked more tired than he had earlier. The man cleared his throat. “Lord Alardice said he would be happy to welcome the two of you to the manor. He also wished to invite the two of you for dinner once your wounds are treated. Would that be alright with you?”

“We would be honored. Lord Alardice is most generous.” Isolde bowed slightly. Amara just stood, not bothering to attempt the same gesture. With her wounds and her general lack of grace, it would probably be more insulting if she tried.

A flash of unease passed through the man’s eyes, but it quickly vanished. Amara narrowed her eyes at the man, but she kept her posture relaxed and casual.

“Sounds good,” she said. Glenn nodded and gestured over to the horse.

“It’s not too far, but given your injuries, I thought it might be easier if you weren’t forced to walk the distance. Have you ever ridden before?”

“Once or twice.” Amara peered over at the horse in question, which was still staring in their direction. Leila had a horse that she’d ride on her trips out of town, and seated atop, Amara had always thought the woman looked majestic and noble. Leila had ended up offering Amara a chance to ride herself, but she’d only just touched the creature when it had gotten spooked and nearly kicked her. Leila had been confused, suggesting that it might have been a bad day and that she could try again another time, but Amara hadn’t bothered.

Even now, as she stared at Glenn’s horse, she could practically feel the unease whenever she moved closer. A hand swept idly over her once again gloved hands. She’d always assumed animals could sense how warped her magic was and avoided her because of it. That, or it was because of something else, something that she kept tightly encased at the bottom of the cold sensation and preferred not to think about.

Amara waved dismissively. “I can walk, don’t worry about it,” she told Glenn. The man frowned.

“I can assure you Leon is very gentle,” he said.

Amara smiled when she heard the horse’s name, holding in a laugh. She hadn’t thought a noble would name their horse after the old god of thieves. But then, considering how much the old religion had died down with the constantly increasing emphasis on magic and reason, maybe he didn’t realize what the name was of. Amara herself only vaguely knew the tales from the books she’d found in Joan’s library.

“It’s really fine,” she said. “I get, uh, motion sick.” She turned to Isolde. “You can ride instead, if you want.”

“I’ll have to pass,” the woman said in a calm voice that left no room for argument. She nodded at Glenn. “You can ride ahead, and we’ll follow alongside.”

Glenn didn’t look very happy at the idea, and it took a few more minutes of back and forth, but finally the man relented. He mounted the horse again with ease, and soon the three were headed away from the square, Glenn keeping his horse to a slow walk so that Isolde and Amara could keep up.

The steady clopping of the horse’s hooves provided a constant backdrop as they strode through the town. Amara forced herself to move slower, lest she further aggravate her wounds, though really what she wanted was to run up ahead to see more of the town. She settled for twisting just her head to get a look at the buildings and streets as they passed. At one point she ended up turning her back by habit, and Isolde had rotated her back to facing the front.

The Alardice manor was slightly separated from the rest of Magrath. The buildings around them became more sparse, and the paved street gave way to a compact, winding dirt trail that led up a grassy hill, atop which Amara could see the distant silhouette of the manor framed by the surrounding forest.

Glenn slowed his horse’s pace down even more as they walked up the incline, frequently glancing over to make sure Amara was alright.

“First we’ll see Monica,” he explained. “She’s the best doctor in Magrath. She was once an apprentice under Commander Alfred.”

The name was vaguely familiar to Amara, and judging by the way Isolde’s eyes sharpened, she assumed he was important.

“After that, I’ll escort the two of you to the dining hall, where you’ll meet Lord Alardice.” Glenn’s voice slowed at that, and he cleared his throat, nodding. “Up ahead.”

Amara’s eyes shifted forward. As they reached the top of the hill, the Alardice manor came into full view. It was a sprawling complex of buildings, carefully trimmed hedges and flowers separating the landscaped property from the wilderness surrounding it. The main building seemed to be constructed entirely of stone, with tall, narrow windows and sloping roofs that joined together in sharp points. It made for an imposing silhouette, its sharp angles contrasting against the gentle slope of the hill.

The doors were massive, constructed of heavy dark wood with metal handles hanging against their smooth surface. Two guards stood on either side of the doors, and both turned towards the three of them as they approached.

“Sir,” they saluted. Glenn simply nodded, bruising aside the formal greeting with a slightly stiff jaw. He pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted, gesturing towards Isolde and Amara.

“Could you please inform Lord Alardice that the guests have arrived? I’ll escort them to Monica.”

“Of course, sir.” With another bow, the two guards stepped up to the doors and pulled them open. They opened slowly, wood creaking slightly from the force, and Amara wondered how heavy they were. She didn’t get a chance to ask, however, because Glenn was already striding through the open entry. She passed by as one of the guards led Glenn’s horse away, taking in the interior of the manor.

Tall ceilings extended far upwards, and lights hunt down from long chains, swaying slightly as their flames danced. A long navy carpet was rolled across the stone floor, and Amara vaguely noted that she was probably tracking in a lot of dirt and probably some blood, too. On the walls themselves, she could easily see outside through the tall, narrow windows, and between them more torches cast the manor in a constant glow, creating shifting shadows that danced along the paintings hung evenly along the walls.

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The open space soon narrowed slightly into a hallway, and they passed by enough branches and doors that Amara was sure she would’ve gotten lost there on her own. Thankfully Glenn seemed to have no issue navigating the halls, and after a turn to the right, the two of them were led to a smaller door situated at the end of a narrow hallway. There was only one torch to light the space, making the area quite dim, and Amara could feel her nerves prickling with an old unease that she shoved down.

Her eyes met Isolde’s, and she could tell from the woman’s thoughtful look that she must’ve noticed how much more jerky and sharp Amara’s movements had gotten. She ignored the woman’s watchful gaze, instead directing her attention ahead as Glenn knocked against the worn door.

After a few seconds, it clicked open, and a short woman with light brown hair pulled into a tight braid frowned at the three of them. Her eyes swept past Glenn to scrutinize Isolde and Amara, and Amara could practically feel the distant, cool sharpness in those dark eyes, so similar to the ones she’d seen on the magicians’ faces. She flexed her fingers, but kept them carefully by her side.

“These are the guests?” the woman said, voice revealing a slight tinge of irritation beneath an otherwise coolly professional tone.

Glenn nodded. “I apologize for disturbing you, Monica.” He nodded at the two of them. “They helped fend off the Aberration attack.”

Monica’s expression shifted. She hummed thoughtfully.

“Is that so?” Amara could feel the woman’s gaze watching her. “Well, I suppose I can take a look.”

“I’m very grateful to you,” Glenn said, bowing his head slightly. He turned to Isolde and Amara. “I’ll wait in the hallway for the two of you.”

Isolde nodded, not hesitating to step through as Monica opened the door further. Amara followed after, albeit a bit slower, listening in on Monica and Glenn’s conversation.

“Do you need anything yourself?” Monica was asking.

“Ah, no. Most of the Aberrations were taken care of by the time I arrived.”

Monica scoffed. “Humble as always.” She shook her head. “Well, don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need any.”

The man hesitated. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I was wondering if you’d seen Levent today?”

Amara’s eyebrow rose, but she carefully kept her body language and expression neutral as she entered the room proper. Monica frowned.

“No, I haven’t.”

Glenn’s shoulders slumped slightly, his brows furrowing. “I see.” He shook his head. “Thank you regardless, Monica.”

The two exchanged a few more words before Monica shut the door, and Amara used the opportunity to study the interior of the room.

Compared to the hallway, the inside was brightly lit, and the stone walls had been painted a soft cream color that reflected the many candles. Colorful flowers and vases decorated every corner of the space, and it managed to make the neat rows of cots look homely.

In front of the many cots, a few chairs and a couch were set out in front of a smooth oak desk. Amara joined Isolde, who was already seated, deciding to sit down on one of the wooden chairs instead of the couch. As soft and tempting as it looked, it was probably best not to put more pressure on her back.

Soon Monica strode over, taking a second to slip on a pair of light grey gloves before taking a seat in front of the two of them. In the pale colors of the room, the intensity of her eyes was much less severe, but that didn’t stop Amara from watching her movements closely.

“Now then, I suppose introductions are in order.” She gestured to herself. “I’m Monica, this manor’s primary doctor.”

Isolde nodded. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Isolde, and my friend here is Amara. The two of us are travelers.”

Monica raised an eyebrow. “I see.” She shook her head. “A bit unfortunate for you to have encountered an Aberration attack here. Now, let me see your injuries.”

Amara dutifully spun around, and she couldn’t tell what Monica’s reaction was. Her hands, at least, seemed steady as they carefully brushed over her back, which she appreciated.

“Are attacks like that common?” Amara asked, mostly to break up the silence. She heard a few clicks as Monica rummaged through her drawer.

“I wouldn’t call them common,” the woman said shortly, “though they’ve been occurring more frequently since the mines opened.”

“We passed them on the way here,” Isolde remarked. “I’m surprised at how expansive they are. They were only opened recently, if I recall correctly.”

“You’re right about that.” Amara felt a few strips of fabric being carefully pulled away, some of them requiring stronger tugs to unstick them from where they’d dried on top of the wounds. It was a rather interesting sensation, in her opinion.

“Lord Alardice has been prioritizing the mine’s expansion.” The woman’s voice sounded slightly bitter at that. “Magrath is quite different now from what it was like before.”

Amara felt the final piece of fabric pulled away, exposing her back to the air. She heard a chair creak as Monica reached for her desk again, and then a familiar warmth that she recognized from when Joan healed her fell across her back. She vaguely wondered what color the woman’s aura was. She couldn’t tell facing away like this.

It didn’t feel quite the same as the usual patched cuts. There was still the sensation of her skin shifting, suddenly elastic and no longer solid, but this time the feeling ran deeper. It wasn’t just the surface of her skin stretching and morphing, but the internal bones. The glow eventually died down, and she heard Monica reach for another ore before the warmth of magic returned. This time, she could visibly feel bones shifting around as the woman used motion magic with impressive precision. It was only past experience that kept Amara from fidgeting. During the experiments, moving always made things worse, and this was at most uncomfortable.

“Ore mines do tend to shift everything surrounding them,” Isolde remarked. “Sometimes literally.”

Amara snorted at that, remembering the warping trees chasing after them. Monica just hummed, continuing her work, often switching between the two ores and occasionally pulling out a few tools to manually deal with the wounds. The longer it went on, the more restless Amara became. She attempted to amuse herself by counting the petals on the flowers across from her, but it was still a relief when she heard bandages being unrolled.

She sighed as Monica wrapped the wounds, and the moment they were tied off and Monica said she was done, she immediately jumped to her feet and stretched her arms. It was probably bad for the freshly healed, thin wounds, but at that point she cared more about curing the stiffness that had settled into her limbs.

Isolde chuckled as she rose as well, smoothing out her clothes as she did so. “You don’t enjoy sitting still, I see.”

“Oh you have no idea.” Amara spun around to look at Monica, who was eyeing her with slight disapproval. She grinned and bowed with probably more energy than was normally proper for the gesture. “Thanks, ma’am,” she said.

Monica just sighed and shook her head. “Is that all?” Her eyes darted over to her gloved arms, where a few bandages could be seen poking out from beneath the top of the fabric. Amara moved them back slightly.

“Yep, that’s it. Thanks again,” she said.

“Hm. Well, do try to be careful. Those wounds will remain fragile for some time.” She rose once she was done returning her supplies to the drawers. She pulled her now bloodied gloves off and disposed of them in the wastebasket before rising to open the doors again. On the other side, Glenn was waiting patiently in the hallway, eyes staring distantly at the stone walls. His gaze snapped away and he stepped forward when he saw them.

“Is everything done?”

“Good as it can be,” Monica said.

Glenn nodded, and with a final nod of gratitude, the three departed the narrow hallway and stepped back into the main hall, which felt especially wide and open now.

“Lord Alardice should already be in the dining hall,” Glenn said slowly. Something flashed in his eyes, and he hesitated, choosing his words with visible care. “Lord Alardice can be a bit… temperamental. Please exercise caution when speaking to him.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle,” Isolde said smoothly. She gave Amara a deliberate look, which she took to mean, “let me handle this.” Amara just shrugged, shooting Isolde a grin. The woman shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Soon the three of them reached a set of mahogany double doors, where two guards stood outside. They stood aside when the three approached, evidently expecting them. Glenn visibly inhaled, and Amara noted the careful way he raised his fist to knock against the door.

After a few seconds of silence, a slightly muffled “Enter,” resounded from inside. Glenn’s mouth was set in a grim line as he pulled the doors open. Amara and Isolde exchanged looks, then strode in after the man.