Chapter 30 - A Different Home

Sar'tara let out a gasp upon seeing the garrison of Arcaeus Peak. It sat tall and proud upon a high hill like an eagle perched on the highest branch of a barren tree. Its grey walls, while much smaller than the Thousand Sun City, were daunting all the same. Placed on a height and with the Greyscale Lake near the less steep incline, the fortress was hard to siege Kalin had said. Arcaeus Peak served as the shield of Xenaria.

Bells sounded as silver eagle banners were seen approaching from the garrison walls. Sar'tara gawked as a giant iron and wood gate slowly creaked open without anyone pushing it. She'd been given her own horse to use —one of the ones taken from the Empire's winged horsemen. Eager to see inside, she nudged her steed with her bare heel. It added a jolt to its trot, gaining a lead over Kalin and Rask's own horses. They made no mention of it, though, she could hear the curious whispers of the wall guards as her horse stepped into the shadow of the arched gateway before theirs. It opened into a vast, sunlit field of bare dirt. Behind it all lay the largest structure Sar'tara had ever seen. A building of grey and white stone that stood taller than the walls. A castle. It was much grander than what she'd imagined castles to look like from the stories her Mother used to tell. This place housed half the Serene army, about forty thousand as per Kalin, with more in training and others out on border patrol.

This place would be Sar'tara's new home.

A small part of her was eager to explore this new, unknown place. But there was nothing familiar here. Everything seemed like an obstacle. So many new faces making odd glances her way. Towering walls that couldn't be scaled and only served as a barrier to what lay behind it. There were hardly any trees to climb. No flowers to admire. No singing birds or gentle streams. No fauna. No curious nymphs to nag her.

Young boys gathered around the returning force. Soldiers dismounted and handed their mounts off to them. The animals were being led away to be stabled, or housed as Sar'tara had learned. Men on foot continued their organized march into the castle. Sar'tara dismounted, holding the reins to her own horse tight. She didn’t want to give him away. The presence of an obedient animal made her feel more at ease surrounded in an unfamiliar place. She scratched the underside of the horse's neck. A boy two thirds her height came to stand by her, waiting expectantly. Sar'tara simply shook her head at him. He stood there still. She ignored him, hoping he would leave.

"Who're you?" the boy finally asked, looking her up and down. He frowned at her strange garments.

"I am Sar'tara Vashiri."

"Are you a slave? Lord Serene don't keep slaves."

"Save?" Sar'tara asked, cocking her head.

Kalin came to stand beside her. The boy lowered his head got and bowed in an instant. "Hand him the reins, Sar'tara," the duke said. She opened her mouth to protest. He held up a hand to stop her. "It's his job. Let him do it. And no lad, she is not a slave," he said, turning back to the boy.

Sar'tara reluctantly let go of the reins. Her eyes followed the boy and the horse as they were led away behind a corner. "When do I become a soldier?" How often did soldiers leave, she wanted to ask. She wondered if they were mostly limited to the garrison, surrounded by imprisoning walls at all times. Sar'tara was having doubts about being a soldier. But she couldn't tell Kalin that. It would make him doubt her conviction. Doubt her strength. He seemed to admire her because of those qualities. She couldn't lose her only friend because she failed to adapt to a new life.

Kalin sighed. "That will be a long process yet. Follow me."

She trailed after him, raised brows following her everywhere. She heard whispers and mutters but no one bothered to approach Kalin and her to satisfy their curiosity. No one thought to greet them unless they were close enough to the duke when he passed by. Such behaviour would be considered rude by Vashiri standards. They entered the castle, guards at the gate saluting, their cautious and leering eyes gazing over her. They frowned, more so at her garments than her. Sar'tara hugged herself, looking at her feet.

A straight narrow passage followed once indoors. Grey walls were on either side. Windows were scarce and small. The passage was lit with braziers hanging on the walls at every few dozen steps. Sar'tara stopped to inspect the iron mechanisms holding them in place. Kalin paused, letting her indulge. "How does one mold iron?" she asked.

"Ironworks, whether tools or weapons, are crafted by blacksmiths. They are melted to liquid and then poured into the correct mold. That's the basics. Once it has cooled, it will have hardened and takes the shape of its mold. Depending on the object, more work may be needed."

The process intrigued her. But the dancing flames on the torch… "Where is this done?" she asked, averting her gaze, suppressing a rising panic within her lungs. Don't show him your weakness, Tara.

"There are numerous smithies within these walls. We will have time enough for it all eventually," Kalin assured her with a weary smile.

Sar'tara shrugged. They continued along. She slowly started crafting a map of the castle in her mind. All her efforts came unravelled by the time Kalin made his third turn. She'd lost count of the number of different rooms they'd walked by. The halls didn't always turn in one direction either. She didn't let it frustrate her. Learning the lay of a new land would take time. She thought to ask Kalin whether they could go to the castle's heights. Her lips remained shut when they entered a corridor leading to a spiralling set of stairs. Sar'tara wanted to see the world below from a tall height. She wanted to know what it was that birds saw from high above. And to perhaps feel a familiarity with a forest, with gazing down from a peak as if she were in a tall tree. Her fingers touched the bumpy surface of the walls. "How was this place built?"

"You'd have to ask the stonemasons of centuries past about that. Though… the archives in Metsiphon's libraries may still hold records," Kalin said, rounding another corner to a new flight of stairs.

Lie berries? "Records… as in I can see how it was done?" Metsiphon was a city, and Kalin's place of birth, Sar'tara was told. It housed the other forty thousand of his armies. So many people.

"There may be illustrations. Mostly written… Can you read or write?"

"I can read the tracks of animals. I can read the wind also and guess when it may rain. I can also read the sun and stars to find my path."

"That would be a no, then…" Kalin muttered.

She frowned. "Those do not count? And what do you mean by write?" Surely he didn't mean the opposite of 'wrong'. Or was it a slip of his tongue?

He kept silent. They went through multiple more passages and flights of stairs. He stopped at last by a small passage with only two doors. "The left door is where I sleep. The one on the right is my office —where I usually work."

Sar'tara nodded thoughtfully.

"If you'd like, I can give you your own resting quarters…"

Stolen novel; please report.

"No! Surely you aren't still trying to isolate me after last night, Kalin Serene? And you won't permit me to sleep with others. I don't wish to be alone. So I will stay with you."

Kalin sighed at the response as if he expected her to have said yes. She didn't understand. His behaviour had been strange since morning. He opened the door to the right. It led to a small room with a table and a chair. The walls were lined with strange wooden box like objects. They held other rectangular objects of interest. Sar'tara observed these without touching them. "These are shelves," Kalin explained. "They hold books. Books in turn, hold our spoken words. That is what I meant by reading or writing. Words are written within. Recorded within. Then they can be read at a later time by anyone able to read."

Sar'tara's eyes widened as she took another look over all of the books. A gasp escaped her parted lips. "Spoken words can be recorded? Can I learn this?"

He smiled as he sat down in his chair. "Yes. In fact, you need to. House Serene does not make use of peasant militia. Every soldier can read and write to some extent. Though, it will be a lengthy process yet."

"Teach me!" she said, pressing her hands on the table and leaning in with a wide smile.

He turned away, cheeks coloring. "I'm afraid I do not have time for that myself. I'll have to stay within this fortress for a few months before returning to Metsiphon. I suspect winter will be nearing its end by that time. I'll have one of the officers teach you the basics. Once we're at the city, I can hire a more appropriate instructor. My library holds many old records of the Thousand Sun City. They may come of use to you."

Sar'tara clenched her fists. Learning to read and write spoken words would bring her a step closer to her vengeance. A step closer to attaining justice. "When can I start? Can I start now? I promise I learn quick!"

"Sar'tara, please bear with me. I can't have everything done with the wave of my hand. For now, I'll have someone guide you around. This place is large. I wouldn't want you getting lost."

She pouted. She walked behind him and looked out a small window. She caught sight of a training field where men were sparring with each other or doing other tasks to test fitness. It felt so strange, witnessing everything from so high up. She felt like an owl patiently waiting at a treetop, scanning through crowds in search of an easy meal. Or an easy target. It was unexpectedly easy to identify the weakest or youngest of soldiers.

"More proposals," Kalin grumbled behind her, his hands shifting through the many pieces of parchment scattered about on his table.

Sar'tara had seen a similar mess at the command tent, thinking them cloth strips at first. She looked over his shoulder, trying to make sense of the markings upon the pages. She ran her fingers along the smooth surface of a sheet. "What does this one say?"

"That's a filtered report written by Lord Ravaya. He served during my grandfather's reign and spends spare time summarizing things for me now. It reads 'Spending Costs & General Reconnaissance Report for Elaina's Tenth cycle, Year 4221 of the Secind Calendar'. He misspelled 'Second.' Do you want me to read the entire report? Most of it won't even make sense to you."

Sar'tara nodded. Perhaps she could gain an inkling about the reading process. Maybe even surprise him by learning it all at once.

Kalin frowned briefly, then shrugged. "Had to read it anyway:

1. A full chest of silver crowns spent on grains, and ale. One and one half on beef and pork…

"Beef is expensive. Perhaps asking the farmers to raise sheep instead…

2. Servants and chef salary for this lunar month: A quarter chest of silver

3. Soldier's salary: A full chest of gold halves

4. Garrison maintenance: None

5. Blacksmiths and stable boys: Fifty silver crowns to the smiths and ten copper crowns to the stable boys

6. Iron costs: 120 gold crowns (15 more than last year)

"Fifteen? Scorch High House Galadin. If only Xenaria had more iron mines…

General Reports: Astral Union has burnt down a forest within our territory. Inquisition legions last spotted near Stoneport as well as the Capital. There has also been a legion spotted across the border along the Cinder River, north of the Garrison.

A contingent of assumed Ivory Hussars were spotted moving towards western Tarmia. Rumors state Idris Khan at their head. (Unconfirmed).

"Idris… That's troubling. And a legion hovering between the borders. Who knows what schemes they could be up to.

News from the capital: Crown Princess Dahlia has announced her engagement to Madrivall of House Aegis."

Kalin coughed. "What?"

"Is something wrong?" Sar'tara asked, completely oblivious to everything he just read. She also didn't manage to learn anything about reading. Other than the fact that such a vast amount of words could be contained on so small a sheet.

Kalin looked up at her. Then back down on the sheet of paper. Then back at her. He shook his head and left the page in a corner on the table.

"Was that all?" she asked.

"Yes. Now, I just have to spend the rest of today crafting three different rejection letters to the best of my ability." He stood up and pulled out a thick book from the top most level of a shelf.

Sar'tara ran her hand over the book's leather cover, sucking in a breath through her mouth. "What kind of information does this book have?"

"This. This is my lifeline. It keeps my sanity. A record of all nobility in Xenaria, no matter how minor they may be. Their information is kept here. The scribes at Metsiphon struggle to provide me with an updated copy every year. I use it to create appropriate rejections for proposals I receive. Being an aristocrat is more a burden than some would believe."

"Proposals for what?" she asked.

"Something too troublesome," he sighed. "Even though they're all beneath me, I have to put such care into these, or they'll use my poor wording to drag my name through the mud."

Sar'tara tilted her head. "Are you not respected? All your soldiers seem to respect you."

"I'm respected all right. Too much in fact. That's why I get such letters despite there being no chance of me accepting." Kalin took out a blank sheet. He dipped a pen tip in a jar of black liquid and began writing.

"I don't follow," Sar'tara said, watching the writing process with amusement. She reached out to touch the markings he was writing. He swatted her hand away.

"You must let it dry first or it will smudge."

"Sorry… but I still don't quite understand. Why must you put care into what you write when they're trying to hurt you?"

Kalin read over the line he'd written multiple times. He then quickly wrote four more markings and read over the line again. His free hand fist clenched shut. "Argh. That doesn't fit quite right." He crumpled the page and pushed it aside. "Who was this for again?" he mused, looking over a letter. "House Reeln… Never heard of them." Kalin flipped through the thick tome before him. "House Reeln. House Reeln. Reeln. Ah, there it is." Sar'tara crossed her arms, waiting for a response as his eyes skimmed through the page. He then frowned and unravelled the crumpled paper he'd been writing on. "Hmm. Maybe that word does fit… But I've already crumpled it."

"So what? You cannot use it?"

"That would be disrespectful. I must put care into it to protect the Serene name."

"Would your standing decrease if the words you write aren't adequate?"

"Well, no."

She crossed her arms. "So you would still be this duke of Xenaria?"

"Yes. As duke, I rank beneath the queen only. But poorly written letters would cause unsavory rumors."

Sar'tara leaned in, bringing her face close to his. She let a wicked grin spread on her face. "So you mean to tell me, Kalin Serene fears words?"

"That's not…"

"That's not what? If you rank second highest, why pretend to be anything lower than that?" She spread out the crumpled page and straightened it as best she could. "Go on. Write. Read it out to me!"

He paused. She couldn't understand his hesitation. A frown still remained on his face. Parts of his skin pressed against each other, creating lines. He finally let out an exhale and eased his expression. He looked her in the eyes, the corners of his mouth curling ever slightly. "So carefree… Just as an eagle should be."

"Hmm?"

He shook his head. He once again dipped the pen in a jar of black and began writing. Sar'tara stared, eyes following every new marking he made, mesmerized by the process. Only the sounds of the pen tip dragging along the parchment filled the small room.

"Dear Lady Reeln," Kalin read once finished. "Thank you very much for allowing me the opportunity to consider this proposal. Unfortunately, I do not feel as if I would be the right person to be your partner and will pass on this offer at this time. I wish you the best of luck in the future. Once again, thank you." Kalin scratched at his beard again. "Hmm. Seems a bit crude given I didn't even mention the lady's first name. But the proposal didn't mention a name either. They expect me to already have knowledge on their family members when I haven't even heard of their name. Do you think it works?" Kalin asked rhetorically.

Sar'tara peered at the words, looking at them upside down from where she stood. "Why must you say thank you? Twice too. You aren't truly thankful."

The duke laughed. "I have to maintain a degree of politeness lest they turn hostile towards me. Thank you, Sar'tara. It feels as if a weight has been lifted from my chest. I will respond to the remaining proposals in this manner. Though, I suppose I should look to accepting one since Dahlia…" His eyes drifted back to hers.

"Was that a genuine 'thank you'?" She twisted her mouth, arms still crossed. "Or a 'thank you' like the one you've written."

"Genuine," Kalin said.