“Are you ready, Huw?” Violant asked.
“As well rested and ready as I only can be.” the ceffyl dwr replied “But please don’t call me that.”
“Whatever you say, Huw. Then let’s set out.”
Following his rider’s command, the water horse began to move. He wasn’t the only one to do so though. The young lady didn’t know how they had gotten wind of this secret mission, but the spirits and ghosts of the wild hunt had caused quite the clamor when it became apparent that she planned to use the pathways, especially in times of unrest like these. The other march was even farer from being safe than ever, after all.
The wild hunt only acknowledged their liege’s undertaking after she had given in and accepted wild huntsmen as guards and escorts. The two who were chosen for this task were Rambold and Waldolf. Both were already familiar with the tomboyish, somewhat bellicose girl and her sudden actions after all. In fact, Violant started to become known as the Valkyrie of the other march. No wonder if you pictured a beautiful, somewhat otherworldly girl swinging her spear and throwing herself in the battle with vigor. Those who survived an immediate encounter with her started to call her the silver-eyed she-devil of Yteland instead. That couldn’t be helped though if you experienced firsthand how she could turn any battlefield into a scene of hell by the use of bombs, firearms, troll fire and other of Arinnefja’s inventions.
The troll remained in Avallach, by the way, without a chance to witness the literally striking success of her inventions which she and dwarven smith Hanarr still steadily improved based on the reports from the battlefield. The troll weapons were still limited to the troops from the margraviate but that also was bound to change sooner or later. As for the reason why Violant made no use of the genius strategist Arinnefja: The redhead was determined to keep this fact secret for now. Additionally, the troll herself didn’t know of her other slumbering talent yet. Since that was the case, Violant made Arinnefja promise that she would aid with the defense of Avallach should the town or castle get attacked. That would be chance enough for the troll to discover her other sleeping talent and if she didn’t, so be it. There were still more chances in the future after all.
The pathways were the same as the last time Violant had used them. A seemingly endless system of dark, almost always lightless tunnels branching out in all directions spread out before her.
“Huw, I trust you know the way to Marchester.” the girl said, trying to cover up the uneasiness she always felt when dealing with the pathways. This uneasiness increased due to the fact that she suspected the otherworldly fighters on the grand duchy’s side to use the pathways for their invasion. Of course it was unthinkable that she would meet with a prepared ambush – nobody wanted to stay in the pathways for long considering the permanent dangers they posed – but she could have a run in with the enemies by chance nonetheless, and fighting in the treacherous tunnel system was the last thing she wanted to do.
Huwcyn didn’t bother to answer and snorted from his nostrils instead as if to indicate that Violant shouldn’t state the obvious.
Rambold and Waldolf failed to read the mood though and declared that they would ensure their liege’s safe arrival even if she should lose her way.
For a moment Violant closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, strongly gripping the pouch on her belt that stored her presently shrunk spear as if to assure herself that she wasn’t defenseless in the least. Although it remained doubtful how the spear should be of help if she in fact did manage to get lost in the pathways, a worst case scenario she deeply wished to avoid.
After calming herself down, the redhead focused on the pathways already visible in front of her and spoke: “Let’s go.”
The travel through the pathways ended up relatively eventless, save for one instance where they almost encountered a marching troop of werewolves under grand ducal command. Only the sharp and honed senses of the wild huntsmen spared them a direct encounter.
Violant didn’t ignore the invaders though but decided to dispatch Waldolf with the task of shadowing the werewolves and reporting to her uncle Orderic. She neither could abandon her mission nor ignore the danger the invaders posed for the inhabitants of both Yteland and the other march after all and thus remained with Rambold as her only escort. Waldolf would rejoin them after the task he had been entrusted with was successfully completed.
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Exiting the other march, Violant wasn’t far from the border between Yteland and Guidena. At the moment she stood on a blooming mountain meadow, and high mountains towered in the distance. The only way to reach Giudena was a single mountain pass in the center of which a big gate was installed that functioned as the border of both the kingdom and the merchant republic.
Rambold stayed back near the entrance of the pathways to wait for his companion Waldolf and because his presence alone was likely enough to cause a panic in Giudena. The republicans feared the wild hunt because it had carried away many a travelling merchant never to be seen again, giving rise to its notoriety with the merchant republic. When Violant would be seen accompanied by a wild huntsman who wasn’t hard to discern as such, she probably would have no chance in hell to enter Giudena, much less meet its ruler.
Violant had never visited Giudena, neither in her present lifetime nor the last, but she knew that the city state was surrounded by high mountains on all sides, its only connection to the outside world being three mountain passes, one of which connected Giudena to Yteland while the other two lead to the empire. Since the agriculturally usable territory of the city state was more than limited, the Guidenians long since successfully had settled for crafts, art, and trade as their main source of income, thus allowing them to compensate for the lack of self-sustainability in regard to their food sources.
The margravial young lady couldn’t deny feeling anticipation while nearing the border. Giudena was famous for its splendid architecture and its refined culture that was said to be second only to the empire’s. It was equally known for the fact that money was the true lord of Giudena. In fact, the head merchant, who was the republic’s political leader and got elected by the merchant association every five years, got his or her post by virtue of a good reputation and – more importantly – by the amount of persuasion money he or she was able to pay the eligible voters. Since as of now three generations, the post was occupied by members of Giudena’s most wealthy merchant family, the Lictorinis. In a certain sense Lady Mafalda really had been something like a foreign noble marrying the king of Yteland although aristocracy in the true sense of the word didn’t exist in the merchant republic.
Approaching the border, Violant heard a heated dispute. Although, it was more like a one-sided nagging. The haughty voice sounding through the clear mountain air was one the girl could identify at a moment’s notice because it belonged to no other than the very person who had delighted so much in her downfall of her previous lifetime. It belonged to Tancred of Marchester, her rival emissary from Gervase’s faction.
The red-haired girl made a sour face. Even when it was inevitable for her to come in contact with Tancred, she had wished to do so at a later point of time. Observing the other’s behavior, she wondered if Gervase wouldn’t regret his decision. Tancred was really as obnoxious as in her last lifetime. The only thing that spoke for him was his close proximity to his destination and probably his good looks. The second son of Marquis Marchester really was a handsome fellow, with an even face, shoulder-long blond brown hair, and enchanting blue eyes. Sadly, his personality made him less than eligible as a possible honey trap, if that should be what Prince Gervase had intended. The conversation the emissary had with the border guards was more than enough proof of this.
“Now open those gates, you merchant dogs!” Tancred shouted “Why did you have to build them so uselessly heavy in the first place? Do you not know who I am? I am Tancred of Marchester. One word from me and my father will see to it that those troublesome gates will stay closed forever. You wouldn't want that, would you? Now make haste. I don’t have all day long!”
“Please do not disgrace Yteland any further, Lord Tancred.” Violant spoke as soon as she had come close enough. Then she turned to the already unnerved border guards with a refreshing smile. “Greetings, I am Violant of Avallach. My desire is to enter Giudena as the emissary of His Royal Highness Prince Edric of Yteland. Here is the document to prove my words.”
Although Violant also believed the heavy border gate to be rather impractical, she was aware of the fact that it was built particularly sturdy to withstand possible avalanches. It wouldn’t be the first time that the mountain pass experienced those natural disasters after all.
The Guidenian guard officer took a good look at the document handed to him and then nodded.
“It is authentic.” he judged “You shall pass, Milady.”
At the same time Tancred snickered disdainfully. “Ridiculous! Prince Edric must have lost his mind to send a girl as emissary in the first place, and to choose a monster from the other march to top it off. Well, I believe I should be grateful to him instead. With this my success is all but a matter of course. His Highness Gervase will be pleased with me for sure.”
The border guards shot scornful gazes at the overbearing Yteish noble while Violant acted as if she hadn’t heard him, or some rabid dog’s barking at most. In her heart she thought that the words Tacred said about her, she could as well say about him. His self-destruction was all but assured, practically taking the work of obstructing him out of her hands. If she was going to be able to convince Dottorena Lictorini, the head merchant of Guidena, about siding with Yteland was another matter altogether but there was no doubt that the girl would try her best.