Breale sat on the wagon’s bench and tried to ignore the dying pants of the colgs in front of them as the forest rushed past.
They’d been trotting them for days now with little rest, and they weren’t likely to last much longer even if they were to stop just that instant. Even colgs, as tireless and enduring as they were, had a limit.
The forest had turned whiter as they’d gone more and more north towards Ithin Sele, looking to Breale just as the groves high in the mountains did. Unlike their hilly brethren, however, the pines had gradually been replaced by the more foreign broad leaf more common in Doux Burgund and Mistre. Even the air and mountain shape began to change to have rounder and lower peaks more akin to the bottoms of colossal offering bowls.
Though if that were true, Fangpeak would hardly be a worthy gift.
Breale knew she could perhaps be biassed, having lost her guide, friends, sword, and brother just within the week alone.
“Cheer up! The sun’s shining, isn’t it?” Luis said upon noticing her expression. “It’s not even that cold today.”
Breale scowled. She had to admit he was right on that front- the forest blocked the worst of the wind and the ice was soft on the path. Still, she was hardly in the mood to actually talk to him either.
Though they -they being the five soldiers in the back and herself- had agreed that his actions were necessary for the survival of the mission, Breale didn’t think she’d ever be able to forgive Luis for what he’d done.
And if her brother turned out to be dead? Well, Breale thought it was better for Luis’s sake that she didn’t think too much about that.
Not to mention Saphry, Auro, Count Ephren, hell, how about every soldier in the caravan?
And yet, nor could she bring herself to scream at him. She had been the first to run away, after all.
The coward. The child. Breale didn’t want to imagine what the others called her now. Or, if things had truly gone as poorly as she feared, the dead said.
She squeezed her eyes shut as another flare of panic rose within her. In the quiet winds, she thought she might even hear a wailing.
No, what matters now is the mission. Breale thought. All our sacrifices are worth it if the mission succeeds.
Breale’s mind turned towards Lord Cantres, and her stomach churned at the thought.
Since literally everyone else of noble stock had been in other wagons, the duty of diplomacy had unfortunately fallen right onto Breale’s thin shoulders. Not only that, but since Count Ephren had kept the official seal and all the letters detailing concessions from Minua, she would be without the paper guarantees Lord Cantres would probably want, turning an already hard sell into a near-impossible one. If they hadn’t run into her along the way, Breale wasn’t even sure if it would’ve been worth continuing.
But regardless, she was a trained noble and had a rough idea of what Lord Belvan had been planning on trading away, so the chances were at least slightly higher than zero.
“I wonder if he’ll still have those wooden puppets in the palace.” Luis said with forced cheer. “Or if they still sell honey biscuits in the market.”
“Who knows.” Breale said absently.
Luis sighed.
“You know, I’m sure one of the others would be happy for a change of scenery if you-“
“I’m fine.” Breale said quickly. “There’s just a lot to worry about, that’s all. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to convince Lord Cantres.”
Luis looked at her for a moment, as if contemplating how best to tell her something.
“You know, Heril and I might be able to lead the negotiations if you don’t want to.” He finally said. “I have some family in the city, and Heril’s family have served for a long while in Sum-“
Breale started shaking her head before he even finished.
“No. No, this is something I want to do. How else could I look my brother in the eyes again? How else could I stand at his side?”
The wagon slot behind them rustled open then, and Heril stuck his head out.
Breale had always liked the guy, even if he was a little over-enthusiastic at times. He was Summarkan, so there was a kinship there, and he had seemingly inherited the spirit of diligence that passed through Breale’s countrymen. He was always the first to volunteer, and he was always careful to do a good job. He reminded her a bit of her brother, actually, back when he was younger and more sociable.
“Hanos wants to let you guys know that we should be coming upon the city soon.” Heril said. “Maybe another quarter day or so at most according to the charts.”
“We should be in before lunch.” Luis said confidently.
Heril nodded and disappeared back into the wagon.
“It is a shame that only the youngest among us have any good blood.” Luis said quietly. “I would feel much more confident if we could have Hanos or Demetri be our spokesperson. Just imagine how threatening they’d look when talking about Minuan sap tariff cuts!”
Breale chuckled quietly at the thought of having one of their big Minuan guards try to parse out a trade and politics discussion, but quickly fell silent as she lent her mind towards Luis again.
“You know, I am older than you.” Breale said. “Nobler and wiser too, I would think.”
Luis gave her a half smile at that.
“Though, you do speak as if you’re a noble sometimes.” Breale continued.
He shrugged.
“I mean nothing of the sort, I was speaking of you in-“
“Not that.” Breale cut in. “I mean you speak far too confidently on matters you shouldn’t. Which is most things, judging by your academy performance”
“What can I say? Ha, I guess I’m just a confident guy.”
“And yet, sometimes it sounds like you’re aren’t just putting on act, but actually know something of the matter at hand.” Breale said thoughtfully. “I didn’t know even know Heril’s family was all military, for instance. And you mentioned some puppets in Lord Cantres’s palace as if you’ve been there. And not only that, but you seem to understand which pieces Lord Belvan was going to play here, as well.”
Breale shook her head.
“I don’t even think Count Ephren ever specifically said which tariff Minua was prepared to cut to anyone but Saphry and my brother, but you still somehow know.”
A frown flashed over Luis’s face for a moment, only to be replaced by his joking smile before she could blink.
“Ha! I guess I’ve a few subjects I’m good at then, don’t I? Now if only that transferred to maths…”
“Sap is one of Fangpeak’s chief exports, I suppose.” Breale mused. “So I suppose it would be a solid guess. But then again, it’s more known for furs, roots, and meat, and makes as much traffic in those as sap. So how did you know it’d be sap specifically?”
“How do you know it wasn’t just a random guess?”
Breale rolled her eyes.
“Who randomly guesses pitching sap?”
“True enough. As for how, well…” Luis chuckled. “Minua doesn’t run tariffs on any of those, does it? Food trades freely in Verol by royal law, and the fur trade is too essential for the common folk to tax heavily to begin with. Thus, it must be sap. Or that‘s my thought process, at least.”
Breale stared at him in wonder.
“And you knew all of that already?” She asked.
“Somehow.”
Breale shook her head. She didn’t think she’d have put that all together, herself, even if she had known about that food law.
And this is the same guy who almost failed every other subject?
“Luis, what is your past? You say you’re some commoner from the south, but you’ve friends with connections in Fangpeak and a mysterious family you never speak of…”
Luis didn’t turn his head away from the road, clearly expecting the question.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“That’s a pretty personal question.” He said after a few seconds.
“Do you want to know mine?”
“Not if you’ll use it to guilt trip me.”
Breale nodded solemnly.
“Well, it all began when I was young…”
“That wasn't permission to try!”
Breale laughed at the glare he sent towards her, and he joined in after a moment.
----------------------------------------
“Though honestly…” Luis said some hours later. “My past isn’t anything exciting. I spent most of my time in Ostip, but my summers were spent up here in Ithin Sele. Eventually, my family… died out in the south, and I came up to join the academy so I wouldn’t be troubling my uncle. Spent a lot of time travelling, that’s all. That’s all I wish to say.”
Breale nodded. She had heard those kinds of stories dozens of times from people around Verol. At the very least, the story implied that Luis was the son of influential travelling merchants, and not some wayward baron as she’d originally suspected.
Though with Auro and Saphry already flaunting the magic laws, I suppose it wouldn’t have been much of a problem if he were. Breale thought.
And for Breale, it explained why Luis had run instead of fighting back in the ambush. It might not have been the first time a wagon train he was on had come under attack. Merchants weren’t to be trusted, after all.
Luis suddenly rose up on the bench and pointed forward.
“Ah, speak of the gryphon! Ithin Sele!”
Up ahead, tower roofs began to come into view around a far hill like feathered arrows out of a quiver. Even from this distance Breale could see the green sheets of clinging vines, and she even thought she could see a patrol of colg-riders gliding down through the air to the west. Smoke from cooking fires and winter forges wafted up through the air to join the puffy clouds above, and she imagined the smell of honey cooked meat skewers and roasted loctnuts despite the distance.
And on top of that hill was the short walls of the city keep, a grey, unassuming box built of stones older than the kingdom itself. It would be there that the Lord Cantres held court, waiting for their delegation.
“Luck and light to us, I suppose.” Breale muttered.
“Luck and light indeed.”
----------------------------------------
“Business?”
“Mail delivery.” Hanos said.
Wary of another trap, they had decided that they wouldn’t reveal the true purpose of their trip until they had to, even to official patrols. Though in this case, what Hanos has decided upon was not exactly a lie.
The guard was silent for a moment.
“You have a lot of weapons and people for a courier wagon.”
Breale could almost hear Hanos shrug through the panel, and the boredom in his voice was obvious.
“‘Erd Fangpeak’s a dangerous place. And with all the trouble going ‘bout, boss didn’t think it’d hurt.”
“You lot from out east?”
“There and south.”
“Ah, you must’ve been out during that storm then, did you happen…”
Breale tried to stifle the burning impatience that rose within her, finding it thoroughly impossible the longer we sat by the gate. It had to have been almost twenty minutes already that they had been there being questioned by different guards and having the wagon checked, and any sense of unease at it being a trap had long since transformed into bureaucratic hatred.
Nor was her feeling helped by the fact that every local was just waved in around them.
“I think one of my demands to Lord Cantres will be eliminating this checkpoint.” Breale muttered.
“And just leave the walls unguarded?” Heril asked. “I’m sorry, my lady, but you must forgive them. I doubt Fangpeak regularly gets visitors.”
One of the older soldiers in the wagon, Demetri, emitted a low laugh.
“Don’t quite know why, myself. Those stories of animals and demons don’t seem so true to me.”
“The people were much more deadly, weren’t they?” Another soldier said. “Just ask Ephren.”
The other soldiers in the back all laughed at this, but Breale stayed quiet.
How could you laugh at the rest of our caravan dying?
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Luis said after they quieted down. “We just got lucky this time. Normally, spirits and beasts are part and parcel with these old roads.”
“Lucky, you say? Ha! Well I’d be damned if I’d live to see an unlucky trip!”
The soldiers laughed again, earning a few thumps on the front panel from Hanos.
“Aight, you’re good to go in. Don’t cause no trouble.” The guard’s voice said.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
There was a weak squawk of protest from the colgs, and the wagon lurched forward again. Soon after, the panel slid open and Hanos’s head poked through.
“Are we straight to the keep, my lady? Or should I take us to an inn? If they have one here, that is.”
“I’d recommend we go right there.” Luis said quickly. “We should be able to board in the keep.”
Breale nodded.
“To the keep, Hanos.”
“Aye.”
Breale peered out the back as they rolled through the town, taking in their reward for all that hardship.
Ithin Sele was an old city, and it looked every inch like it. Bricks were hand-placed imperfectly, and the runes on them were faded and weak. Roofs sagged slightly with age, though Breale doubted they were likely to fall any time soon. The roads were of stone brick past the gate, though they were chipped and broken in places. As they rolled along, thickly covered townspeople stopped what they were doing to watch them go.
As Breale watched, it suddenly seemed to her that Ithin Sele was less a city and more an isolated and half-abandoned town playing at one. Everywhere she looked she found another half collapsed ruin covered in snow, and all the plazas they passed were devoid of market stalls. Even the people seemed furtive and distant.
“Will Fangpeak really be that much of a help?” Breale asked. “If this is their best city our efforts might be better used asking a single Summarkan count to switch to us.”
“Fangpeak has a larger rural population than the other duchies.” Luis said. “Their hinterlands and strongholds are nothing to sneeze at.”
“We just travelled through half of it and didn’t see a single inhabited village.” Breale said sceptically.
Plenty of empty or ruined ones, though.
“Because they are all hidden deep inside the woods. Don’t worry, when called to war this duchy can become surprisingly populous. And incredibly ferocious.”
Breale watched as a local merchant lazily handed some bread down to a woman below his nearly empty cart.
“Not more than Trenland or Fanula, I’d wager.” Breale said.
“Perhaps not.” Luis admitted.
Breale couldn’t imagine why a society would even build paths if they weren’t going to put their settlements on them, so she was fairly sure Luis was off about Fangpeak’s population. And even if they were deep inside the woods, surely they’d have naturally made paths from travelling to towns to sell or pay taxes, so unless those too were well hidden Breale was convinced the entire duchy was just useless, unpopulated forest.
They rumbled along the city streets for several more uneventful minutes, and though soldiers had started the trip by waving at passing civilians, they gradually stopped as almost no one returned the greeting. Breale felt the prior unease grow as she caught the stares of every local, and as they approached the higher districts she suddenly realised why.
“Does everyone look on edge to you?” Breale suddenly asked.
“Hmm?” Luis asked.
“These people are treating us as though we’re carrying the plague in. And why are all these people just walking around at midday? They look listless.”
Everyone else in the wagon stared out the back for a few moments, and Breale noted that some of the townspeople weren’t even walking around, but simply standing on street corners or leaning against walls.
“They do look sort of apathetic, don’t they?” Heril turned to Luis. “Is that how they normally are?”
Luis bit his lip, slightly unnerved.
“Something must’ve happened…” He muttered.
Outside, Breale watched a man sit down in the snow and stare at them go, but nobody else seemed to pay them any mind.
One of the Minuan soldiers made the sign of the Star across his chest, and the one beside him started murmuring prayers.
“It’s probably nothing.” Breale said uneasily. “We should go over our mission.”
“That would probably be best, madam.” Demetri said.
“Indeed. Now does anyone remember the muster date Lord Belvan wanted to assemble by? I remember Count Ephren mentioned the spring, but I’d rather give Cantres a…”
----------------------------------------
“Wait here, I suppose I’ll let the Duke know you’re here.”
Breale suppressed another wave of anxiety as she watched through the portcullis as the guard slowly turned and walked across the courtyard. Breale had moved to the bench as they’d climbed to the keep in anticipation of a demand for proof, but none had been forthcoming.
Overhead, worn banners carrying the Fangpeak crest waved gently in the wind. Archers watched idly from the walls, their eyes more focused on the birds in the sky than the gate.
Behind them, a steep dirt path winded up from the city below. It looked half ruined from there, and the smoke they had seen on the approach didn’t seem to match the number of inhabited houses. A fierce wind blew from the east over the trees, and while it brought the smell of smoked meat and honey it was a faint thing. Even the church steeple looming the west of town was worn and dark, and if Breale was fairly sure the bell had not rung for midday.
As well, Breale could see for farlengths around from here, but the vast majority was woodland and forest. Not even the usual smoke of satellite villages rose up against the sea of clouds, and the overcast lended the duchy a dismal melancholy that Breale couldn’t shake.
“I find it strange that the security was seemingly higher at the outer gate.” Heril said quietly from inside the wagon.
“I don’t think I’ve seen a lord more worried about the city walls than his own.” Demetri muttered. “Impressive for a noble! No offence to you, Lady Maverick.”
“I’m not sure it was on purpose.” Another soldier said. “That lad just sounded out of it to me.”
“Hey, a man can hope.” Demetri said.
They waited for a few minutes more before Breale spotted the guard walking back.
“My lord said to turn you away unless it’s important.” The guard raised an eyebrow. “Is it important?”
Breale blinked in surprise. Had the guard not mentioned Minua to Lord Cantres?
“We’re from Minua.” Breale said pointedly.
The guard nodded gravely.
“And I’m from Fangpeak.”
Breale opened her mouth and closed it, momentarily lost for words.
“We bring urgent tidings from Duke Belvan.” She tried again. “Matters of nations and state that have already survived ambush and murder in its coming.”
“Is that so?”
“I don’t wish to be brash…” Breale lied. “But it is crucial that I am allowed to speak to Duke Cantres. Could you tell him that Lady Maverick of Cice has come on behalf of Endril and Minua?”
The guard mulled it over for a few seconds before shrugging.
“I suppose that sounds important enough.”
He called up to some guards above, and the portcullis began to rise.
“You’re not going to tell him any more?” Breale asked in surprise.
“No need. Stairs on the right at the end of the main hall. Ask whoever’s standing around if you need more directions.”
Even Hanos seemed surprised at that.
“You’re not going to lead us in?” He asked. “Will we be announced? Will somebody stable the colgs?”
The guard simply shrugged and disappeared inside the guardhouse.
Hanos and Breale matched eyes in confusion, but with nothing else to go on Hanos shrugged and moved the wagon inside.
I just had to leave my sword behind, didn’t I? I’m such an idiot.
Hanos stopped the wagon in front of the steps of the main hall, but no one came out to greet them. Only the runes and engravings on those ancient doors of wood and banded metal offered them more than a glance.
Breale pondered for a moment, staring up at the keep above.
“I’d like everyone to come in with me.” She finally said. “Something strange is happening here.”
“And the wagon, madam?” Hanos asked.
Breale but her lip.
“Tie it down somewhere, but let’s only leave two if we must.” Breale looked down at herself and clicked her tongue. “And get everyone out of the wagon for a minute, I need to change.”
Hanos nodded and relayed her orders to the others in the wagon.
Soon after, everyone but Heril and Luis stood in front of the keep and Breale had changed into a warm travelling dress.
Breale nodded at Hanos, and he strode ahead of her with a shout as another two pushed open the ancient doors.
“I announce Lady…” Hanos trailed off as he saw what was waiting inside.
The hall was completely deserted, with only a single lantern unshuttered above a simple throne at the end of the hall. Long feasting tables flanked a long firepit in the centre of the room, but nothing lay on either and no servants waited under the eaves. Only a cold stillness awaited them.
Breale felt the unease within her balloon at the sight, and she remembered the guards words.
“Up the stairs like he said, I suppose.” Breale said with a feigned confidence.
I really wish I had my sword right about now.
Breale fingered the short sword sheath on her side as they strode through the hall, and the others couldn’t help but murmur fearfully. She heard ‘demon-work’ and ‘curse’ under their breath, and she didn’t correct them.
Hanos went first up the small spiral stairs just outside the main hall, and she followed after. As she climbed, she saw the others also gripping the handles of sheathed swords and axes, and she immediately thought it strange.
“They didn’t take our weapons.” She whispered.
“Indeed, my lady. They should’ve done that at the city gates.” Hanos said gravely. “Though I must admit a gladness that they didn’t do so, now.”
Breale found she agreed.
After a flight of stairs they emerged into a dimly lit hallway of stone. Here a few lanterns had been half way unshuttered, and those plus a small arrow slit at the end of the hall allowed them to make out the dozens of doors along it. At the farthest next to the arrow slit, one door was slightly ajar, and out of it a small light spilled out into the hall as well as a few quiet voices.
Breale met the eyes of the others, unsure what to do. She had been trained in court manners and traditions all her life, but had never been in a situation at all like this.
“I suppose we go on.” She said finally. “Meet him in his room? Honestly…”
Breale led them forward, trying to project her most noble aura. When they approached the door, she heard the voices ring out more clearly and she stopped in shock.
“We do serve to make history here, my friend.” A familiar voice said. “If this succeeds, we will join the likes of the Star and the Gryphon ourselves, let alone that of kings and emperors. We’ll be the saviours of it all, Cantres.”
“That sounds all well and good.” A deep voice replied. “But right now I would much rather sleep. Will you not join me? I should have another room free…”
“With the enemy at our gates?” The first voice laughed good-naturedly. “The future of Elys waits for nothing, I’m afraid. I should sleep when I stride among the stars, and not once before.”
Duke Cantres chuckled weakly.
“That drive is admirable, but I really must be to bed. Tell the clerk to sign what you want in my stead, Lord Agos.”