XI. BEST YOU CAN GET

  After over an hour of wading through the crowded streets towards the palace, Aichlan arrived only to face another dilemma. He had no idea where to begin his search for Siegrun. The palace was abuzz with servants preparing the feasts and attending to the needs of visiting nobility. Aichlan stopped several but they were too harried to give a proper reply or be bothered to aid in his hunt. He searched in vain for another forty minutes before he gave up and took a seat in a smoky salon. The only other occupants were a few servants and a flirting couple who escaped the busier wings for a bit of privacy.

  A waitress stopped her flirtatious conversation with the bartender long enough to bring him a glass of warm champagne with too pulpy orange juice before she returned to the bar to completely ignore the patrons in the room once again. He downed the glass in a single gulp and halfheartedly scanned the room for the bottle so he could pour himself another. The couple across from him were completely oblivious to those around them as they groped and moaned, slurping hungrily on the others neck. The bright winter’s sun peered out from behind the drapery, bathing the room in a quasi-twilight glare. He idly traced the rim of his empty glass with his finger, contemplating his next move. A hand holding a fizzing glass of fresh champagne in his peripherals caught his attention, he took it and turned to mumble his thanks, only to double take upon recognizing the woman he had been searching for.

  “Gods…” He swore with a start.

  “I heard you were searching for me, however the rendezvous’ that occur in this particular room would not be appropriate for us to engage in.” Siegrun said in her usual stoic monotone.

  Aichlan stood, and after a moment’s hesitation set the glass down on the end table. “I’m in need of your services lieutenant, I’ve located a mercenary company in the city yet none of my men speak Rhodarcian.”

  Siegrun crossed her arms across her chest with a slight smirk. “I am doing well General, thank you for asking.”

  “Time is of the essence.” Aichlan snapped, in no mood for further delays.

  Siegrun tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shifted her weight to one leg. “I’m certain they speak Elysian; it is a lingua franca with The Order being so ubiquitous.”

  “I am the son of a well-known Aes Sidhean general, my comrades at the inn were an Aes Sidhean Hillman and an Aes Sidhean Admiral turned pirate. These men all wore the blue coats of officers, and given their age at least three served in the war.”

  “I see the predicament, however…”

  “However what lieutenant?”

  “While I share their language, I am a woman and a woman of the Mage Knights Corps. Women in the military are not as welcomed in Rhodarcium as they are in your own army, and mages are particularly low in the proverbial pecking order.”

  Aichlan snorted in disgust, it was always something. “Right now you’re the best option we have so someone will have to get over their prejudices. Let’s go lieutenant.”

  She had little chance to voice further complaints as Aichlan grabbed her hand and led her from the salon.

* * *

  It was another hour before they were able to leave the palace, partially due to Siegrun’s insistence on changing. When she returned, he hardly recognized her in her teal brocade justaucorps, and even less so as she had returned her hair color to its natural shade of black.

  He spent most of the trek staring at her as he wracked his brain for an instance when he may have encountered the woman before. She was an attractive woman, but he didn’t desire her in an intimate way. Something about her face, the way she carried herself and the look in her eyes bothered the hell out of him, he’d seen it all before and it was maddening. He was uncertain whether it was simple infatuation, or if they truly had met previously.

  The way she carried herself around him seemed to suggest that she knew of him, but it could simply be that she knew he was the son of the man who killed her mother. He and Izarius had laid the matter to rest some time ago, the feud of their parents was a personal one that was settled on the battlefield, hopefully she was not so foolish as to bear him malice for what he was not involved in.

  “Tell me about your father.”

  Aichlan recoiled at the odd request. “Garrick? What the devil for?”

  “I’m curious. If it is a sensitive subject…”

  “It’s not sensitive, just odd. You would probably be better off hearing the tales of his heroism from Francis, assuming he hasn’t bored you enough with the same three or four tales.”

  Siegrun attempted to hide her giggles behind her hand. “There are five if I recall. I’m more interested in hearing about the man, not the legend. How was he as a father?”

  Aichlan rolled his eyes and quickened his pace. “It’s hardly relevant, and I haven’t much to say on the matter.”

  “I see…” Siegrun quickened her own pace to stay abreast of Aichlan. “I never knew my father, though I knew of him. He and my mother had a love hate relationship at best, but when she did speak of him, her tone was always one of reverence and a love born of passion.”

  Aichlan nudged Siegrun and led her around a stalled group of revelers. “No offense to the dead, but your mother was a bit of an obsessive type and mentally unstable to say the least.”

  Siegrun was silent for several moments as they continued to wind their way through the crowded streets. “I suppose she was, but she did love him. Perhaps I just held fast to the belief that he felt the same.”

  “That who felt the same?”

  “My father.”

  Aichlan grabbed Siegrun by the arm and led her down a side alley as the throng before them came to a standstill. “I don’t know, probably. Who was your father anyway? And how did he know Francis?”

  siegrun looked away, her pale cheeks flushed from either cold or Aichlan's closeness. “That’s… complicated.”

  “Of course it is.” Aichlan grumbled as he led her back onto a main thoroughfare. “Then tell me this, why are you still here? I would have assumed you would have left for home as soon as the search for Laelianis was called off.”

  “Duvachellé is key to the war effort, my superiors back in Rhodundal wished for me to stay on as advisor to the new monarch, to ensure that our arrangements with Laelianis carry over.”

  Aichlan was surprised by the candidness of her answer. He always had his suspicions that Laelianis had a puppeteer hiding somewhere, though he was still in the dark as to what these ‘arrangements’ she spoke of were. He suspected the insistence of both Aislyn and his erstwhile friend that he remain in Marquez played a factor in those machinations. It did not sit well, and Aichlan was eager to be done with it as soon as the spring thaw came.

  Aichlan abruptly came to a stop upon spotting Madden in the balcony of a building. “What the hell…MADDEN!”

  Madden scanned the streets for the person that called his name, turning a goofy grin on Aichlan as he waved in his direction. “’Lo there Gen’ral!”

  “What the hell are you doing up there? And Where’s Francis?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “You took so long getting’ back, we went out to find somethin’ to get inta. Ye know there’s a parade soon?”

  Aichlan dragged his hand down his face as the frustration he bottled within threatened to vent on his simple yet well-meaning friend. “What of the mercenaries Madden?”

  “Oh, they left hours ago. Ye aren’t mad are ya?”

  “Not at you Madden. Where is Francis?”

  Madden blushed and pointed towards the silver circle sign above the door, the symbol of a brothel in the region. Aichlan sighed and threw up his hands as he attempted to pace out his frustration.

  “Of course he is! Well come on down from there, we’re headed back to the palace.”

  “But the parades about to start…”

  “Parade? What parade?”

  Madden shrugged his massive shoulders. “I don’ know, but I heard it’s gonna be extravagant, that’s what this crowds fer. You can come up here an’ watch if ya like, Admiral Donnelyn uh, he bought the suite. Best view you’re gonna get I reckon.”

  “I would actually like to see the parade,” Siegrun said with a sly grin and barely concealed laugh. “we did come all this way after all.”

  Aichlan blew out a hot breath and rubbed his face again. “Sure, why the devil not?”

* * *

  The sun had begun to set and cast a fiery glow across the sky as the soldiers of Sorn toiled in to dig a massive grave in the frozen soil. After a brief debate, it was decided that the mounts of the Xanavien mutineers be burned rather than eaten. Supplies were not so low that they needed to resort to such a barbaric act, but the decision was only finalized with Fiora’s offer of reduced duties for those who would be willing to devote the day to hunting and foraging. The Xanaviens however would be dumped in a massive hole at the edge of the forest, the position of which was marked should Captain Miroshnik or her brother make a fuss. Twenty-five men had died in the assault, and another fifty would be out of commission for at least two-weeks. If she counted the Xanaviens, Fiora’s fighting strength had been diminished by one-hundred men, and her Calvary was now non-existent. In spite of this, spirits were relatively high in the camp. A long standing cloud of tension had been dispersed, even Fiora was relieved at the prospect of a smooth campaign to come.

  In her tent, away from the chill air, Fiora hunched over the table and studied the maps. Despite the general good mood of the camp, the issue of resupply did in fact need to be addressed. Their original route took them south along the River of Silver Tears until it snaked its way into the wood. This was a sparsely populated region with exception to the villages and towns right at the Duvachellé border. Sorn was an oddly laid out kingdom, with the majority of its cities on the borders of other nations, with the capitol and three other cities smack in the middle. There were of course various villages and settlements scattered about, but at the moment they needed a city, something with defense structures already in place.

  The closest was Nole, though she was fairly certain nothing remained of that city and Blithe upon Woe was simply too far out of the way. She wished to avoid the capitol, as that was likely where Osric was holed up, to march there with her current force would be a death sentence. That only left New Aurum and Auld Ferrons, two towns close to their current location, yet far enough from their enemies to avoid detection. She felt a knot of anxiety form in her stomach as she stared at the map. Auld Ferrons was a location she both wanted to desperately avoid and make utmost haste towards.

  Her memories of the city were still pleasant, the invasion had not yet occurred when she was first deployed, and she desperately wanted things to remain as such. Curiosity did nag at her when her mind was given reign to wander, and she did wonder if her family got out safely. While in Marquez she had searched various bulletin boards and inquired about them in The Missions, but with so many refugees, she understandably walked away empty handed. The likelihood that some pocket of resistance remained in an overlooked city was laughable, but the only alternative was that the kingdom was deserted. She pushed away from the table and went to prepare a drink.

  The heating glyph was stable for once, though rather weak unless one was right next to it. The tent flap opened with a flurry as a breathless Rowena charged in. Fiora nearly dropped the decanter in surprise.

  “What’s the matter? Are we under attack?”

  Rowena shook her head as she caught her breath. “No Major…Just, follow me.”

  Before Fiora could say a word, Rowena had already left. She swore and grabbed her coat as she hurried after. The air was still, but frigid nonetheless. She debated on going back for her muffler and earmuffs but decided against it as she glimpsed Rowena’s quickly disappearing form amongst silhouettes from the campfires.

  Fiora jogged to catch up, ignoring the salutes and evening greetings from the men as Rowena snaked her way through the camp. Rowena didn’t give any details as to where they were going or why, but Fiora noticed that they were heading to the small shack that had been erected to house Arkona during his trial. What was odd was that the shack was lit with guards.

  The guard outside rendered the Sorn salute as Fiora approached, and she replied with a curt wave and a grunt. Inside behind the latticework wooden bars sat none other than Ransom. Fiora turned her stunned expression to Rowena, who shrugged, insinuating she knew just as much as Fiora did about his return.

  “Where did he come from?” Fiora asked the officer in charge.

  “We found him wandering the camp shortly after Arkona’s mutiny was put down. He had a woman with him, whom The Order has positively identified as Bishop Emarosa Nevea of Nassica.”

  “And where is she?”

  “She is currently being tended to by The Order, should she not be?”

  “No, no, that’s fine. Thank you sergeant.”

  She approached Ransom’s cage with a sigh, he stared back up at her with the same smug arrogance that she had remembered. She had really hoped the man died back in Port of Romance, though was unsurprised that he lived. She was surprised that he was sitting there in her makeshift brig however. Aside from a bit of road grime, he looked to be in good spirits and health.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any of those herbs Eth smoked on would ya?”

  Fiora frowned and folded her arms across her chest. “How the hell did you get here?”

  “Walked, how else?”

  “You know damn well what I mean; Port Romance is over a thousand miles from here.”

  “We got lost.”

  “You got lost?” Fiora repeated with incredulity.

  “Yeah, you know how treacherous it can be navigating that wood.”

  Fiora turned away in disgust. “Leave him here; we’ll have the First Sergeant interrogate him come morning.”

  “Yes Major.”

  “Hey, wait a minute!” Ransom sprung up and clutched at the bars. “It’s fucking cold out here; I don’t even have a blanket!”

  “Then give me a straight answer Ransom. Why are you here?”

  Ransom was silent for several moments. “Let me get a cigarette and—” Fiora rolled her eyes in disgust and turned to leave. “Ok, ok. I’ll tell the truth. After we got separated in the Port, wandered through the woods, when we didn’t find anyone we decided to head to Elysia.”

  Fiora looked him over, he was road worn for sure, but the cloak and boots he wore were new, and not those he left the port in. “That’s a long way through hostile territory, why didn’t you just go to Marquez? You knew that was our destination.”

  Ransom shrugged. “Let’s just say it would have not been in my best interests to march up to that city without Aichlan to vouch for me, or without his ranks to hide in.”

  Fiora gestured to the expensive boots that did not bear the wear of the hundreds of miles he claimed to have trekked. “How did you make it this far without supplies?”

  “Only the western half was abandoned, there were plenty of towns and villages in the east with a few holdouts left. I did an odd job here or there to earn enough coin for the next leg of the journey.”

  “Why Elysia? And why take Emarosa?”

  “I don’t know; it was her idea. I guess she could do more good there, or maybe she got tired of Clarissa’s bull, who can say?”

  Fiora tapped her finger against her elbow as she debated on whether or not to believe his tale. There were too many holes, to many conveniences, not to mention Ransom was an admitted cutthroat and bandit. Not that she had ever really trusted the man to begin with, nor did she particularly like him. It was not that she took issue with mercenaries per se, but had learned to be cautious of anyone whose loyalties could be bought.

  “Give him a blanket, have Gunther speak to him first thing in the morning.”

  “What? I told you what you wanted!”

  “That’s the problem. I want you to have a night to reflect and see if the story holds up come dawn.”

  “What happened to the other Fiora? The nice one?”

  “She grew up.” Fiora turned to leave one final time.

  “You know, the people of Auld Ferrons were far more hospitable when we passed through.”

  Fiora stopped again and clenched her fist. She was certain he was trying to manipulate her to get his way, but if there was merit to what he insinuated, she was obligated to hear him out.

  “They weren’t many, but they shared what they had, and didn’t leave a stranger out in the cold.”

  “This is not some game Ransom.”

  “Who’s playing? If you don’t trust me fine, but at least let me return to a place where there’ll be a warm hearth and a glass of wine waiting, rather than a cold wooden box.”

  “Are there people still alive in that city?” Fiora asked somberly.

  “Yes, how many times do I have to tell you?”

  “Sergeant, Light a fire for our Guest.”

  “Oh come on!” Ransom cried as he rattled his cage.

  “The entire camp is cold Mister Ransom; these are among the best lodgings you could hope for. As for your claims, we shall be breaking camp for Auld Ferrons in the morning, if this hospitality you speak of truly exists you shall experience it again soon.”