Pontius was hailed with great honor and joy as he returned to the court of Sabina. He looked far more weathered than he did before. His face had two new scars, and his armor had several dents in it. Many were surprised to see him enter the court of the Archduchess once more, especially as rumors were spreading that he died in the Great Collapse. He approached Sabina with a bow, and knelt down on one knee.
Sabina studied him with a stone-cold expression. “And so you have risen from the dust, and returned home, Pontius.”
He looked up at her. “And so I have, mother.”
“My people have sought after you for many days. Where have you been?”
“After I escaped from the ruins of the Wall, I went around searching for the escapees. I suspect many of them died in the cold.”
She stood up, and walked over to him. “This disaster of yours has undone so much great work that I have achieved in the north province.”
He felt the sting in her words, but maintained a neutral expression to match hers. “My men failed me. They couldn’t stop some unarmed pond scum from walking out. I also felt the tremors, but-”
She slapped him across the face. “Fool. The soldiers are only as good as their leader. Your failures as a warden, their leader, was devastating to their own competence. You let them become too comfortable.”
“No one could’ve predicted-”
She slapped him again. “Fool. Only the stupid are so ill-prepared for what the gods can rain down on us. Because of your foolish errors, not the least of which being a lack of burnt offerings, the people of the north province now must suffer in fear.”
Though his expression seemed neutral, the feelings behind his eyes were like a forest fire in the dry season.
“I do have an assignment for you. Seeing as you are the cause of this mess, you shall have a hand at fixing the most damaging part.”
“And what must I do?”
She paced around him in an arrogant strut, with her chin up high, admiring the stained glass windows that lined her walls. “A certain man that escaped from the Wall is still loose, and he must be captured again, lest he spread his dangerous conspiracies to the good people of Lucium. You shall look for a man named Lucullus.”
“Him?” Memories flashed in his mind of a man hanging upside down, spouting wild stories. “Why him? I investigated him myself, and I only found tall tales about ghosts. He’s no more dangerous than the senile old men babbling on the street corners.”
“Some of my men recently spotted him going south. I want you to find him, and bring him to me.”
He sighed. “I still don’t see why he’s so special.”
“Do as I command. This is not up for debate.”
He stood up, and bowed. “As you wish, mother.” With a flutter of his scarlet cloak, he stalked out from the court, and went to prepare his horse.
The tavern overflowed with activity. There was barely a spot in the whole building, aside from the wine cellar, where a patron wasn’t standing or stumbling around in a drunken state. Some ordered rounds of ale to see who would pass out first. Others, more akin to bandits than law-abiding citizens, played high-stakes games of five finger filet. Plenty of ale and wine sloshed around, making many tripping hazards all over the floor as the more wasted of the patrons danced around to the rhythm of the resident bard’s drum.
Navigating the chaotic environment of the tavern was nothing new for Tiberius. He expertly weaved through the drunkards flailing their arms around, occasionally checking behind him to make sure Lucullus and Cato were still with him.
“How do you manage to find such places? I’ve never seen such an unsavory tavern,” Lucullus said as he narrowly dodged the swinging arms of the obnoxious revelers.
Tiberius chuckled. “Freedom has a price, lad. This is just the first payment.”
Cato snickered. “I’d hate to know what the second payment is.”
“You two just follow my lead. I’m more familiar with this area, though it has been a while since I’ve been in here.”
“If I were you, I’d never go in here.”
“Farm life may not require you to go to these places, but my lifestyle did.”
Lucullus and Cato followed Tiberius through the various groups of patrons in the main area until they reached the bar. The barkeep was polishing one of his dishes with a look on his face that said I hope my shift ends soon. His eyes hardly ever looked up unless someone was bugging him for a drink or something to eat.
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Tiberius slammed his hand on the bar. “Lutum de Domus Luctus, Quintus?”
Cato leaned over to Lucullus. “I’ve never heard him speak like that before. What sort of tongue is that?”
Lucullus shrugged. “Must be one of the old tongues of the northern tribes before Lucium united.”
The barkeep sighed. “Retro ibi est, Tiberius.” He pointed to a man sitting at a table in the less crowded corner of the tavern.
Tiberius nodded. “Gratias, Quintus.” He turned back from the bar, and led the other two over to the corner.
“Is that an old northern tongue?”
“Pretty good guess, Lucullus. It’s actually an ancient tongue from the heart of Lucium. In fact, it’s still known by some Magisters, though its use has fallen out of practice in most temples.”
The man at the table looked up at them as they approached. He politely sipped his wine, savoring each drop.
Tiberius waved at him as he took a seat at the table. “A friend said I should see you. What do you know of the Count?”
The man put down his wine. “By whose authority do you ask?”
“He whose left eye is dim, but the right shines brighter.” He took five silver pieces from his pocket, and slid them over to the man.
The man studied Tiberius, then the other two. “I didn’t know he needed to send three men to ask a question. I hope he hasn’t gone senile in the last year.”
“Far from it. He’s just under a bit of pressure at the moment. So, what can you tell us?”
He stood up. “Follow me. It’s far too noisy in here.” He grabbed his wine, and led them back to a room in the upstairs loft, tipping a few silver pieces to the barkeep as he passed by.
As they entered the room Tiberius closed the door. “We really need some kind of lead. Those nobles run a tight ship.”
The man set his wine down on a little table. “The group you’ll want to seek, one which you can speak about this more openly with, is the Dracones.”
“The Dracones?”
He nodded. “They have, you might say, a keen interest in the gossip and politics of the noble houses. Everyone who’s heard of them knows they hate the Archduchess with a burning hatred. Anything they can find to sow discord between her and Titus is worth more to them than all the gold in Lucium. I’ve even heard that one member of Titus’s court has been the mediator between them and Titus, but that’s all conjecture. You’ll find the Dracones hiding in some ruins in the great woods northwest of here.”
“Is that it?”
“It’s what five silver buys. If you want more, you cough up more. Though I will say, if you do go after the Dracones, be careful. They don’t like visitors.”
Tiberius reached out, and shook his hand. “Thanks for the tip. It seems the Dracones will be our best chance.”
“Then, our business is concluded.” He motioned for them to leave the room as he started toward the door.
As they traveled along the roadside, Tiberius began to look for a good spot to camp, since the day was getting late, and all three of them were weary from travel. The lack of tree coverage made it difficult to find a good place to make camp. After some searching further beyond the road, they found an area out of the wind, just behind some snow-covered rocks.
As they were unloading their things, a band of mercenaries began to charge them. Tiberius was swift to pull his sword; it was a good thing Unus made the call to furnish them with better equipment. The group of attackers numbered five in total, with two going after Tiberius, two on Lucullus, and the last one charging Cato. Lucullus pulled his sword, assumed a wide stance, and went to strike at his opponents. Neither of the two fighting Lucullus were anywhere close to his size, but they combined their strength to get a few good swings at him. He cut one of them across the shoulder with a quick sidestep as they got in each other’s way.
Tiberius stayed on the defensive against his opponents until Cato slayed his attacker, and evened up the odds. The shift in numbers caused one of Tiberius’s attackers to switch focus to Cato, thus providing Tiberius with breathing room. He, like Lucullus, leveraged his stature, though his was far more burly, against his foe. With a clash of his sword into his foe’s shield, the assailant was knocked backwards, and he pierced the man with his sword.
Lucullus managed to knock one of his opponents to the ground, and almost ran him through when the second foe swept him off his feet, and he crashed into the snow. Tiberius, having just smote his opponent, leapt into action. Just as the assailant was lifting his sword to stab Lucullus, Tiberius cleaved the man’s head with his sword. Lucullus rolled away, attempting to get back on his feet.
Just as Tiberius cleaved that man, Cato finished off his foe with a swift slash across the neck. “What a pathetic band of brigands. Who would think to rob anyone as well-armed as we were?”
Tiberius decapitated the man Lucullus had knocked to the ground. “Not sure, Cato.” He ruffled in the dead men’s pockets to see what they had. At last, he pulled a roll of paper from one of their bags. “It seems I may have an answer.”
Lucullus looked up from his own investigation. “What’s that?”
He unrolled the paper. “It seems to be a bounty.”
Cato scoffed. “Sellswords never cease to amaze me. The Archduchess only sends the best. What a joke.”
Tiberius sighed. “Don’t be so quick to point and laugh, Cato. This is only the beginning. There will be more of them, and far more dangerous foes as we continue; make no mistake about it.”
Lucullus pulled the other rolls of paper from the pockets and bags of the other mercenaries. “What should we do with the wanted posters?”
Cato shrugged. “What does it matter?”
“I just don’t think we ought to leave these laying around. Someone might come by this road and—”
“Yea, but what good would that information do for the random traveler passing by? Nothing.”
Lucullus shrugged. “Perhaps we can use them as firewood.”
Tiberius nodded. “They would make an excellent fire starter.” He pulled out his flint and steel. “I’ll get the fire going. You lads can strip these poor sods of their usable loot, then we’ll set up the tarps.”
Though the mercenaries traveled light, they seemed to carry all of their money on them; not that it was a huge windfall, but it would certainly help in the war of attrition which the three men waged against the authorities of Lucium. The small tools they salvaged were a nice bonus, as well as the seasoned bucklers they snatched from two of the corpses.
As they laid under their tarps for the night, Lucullus’s mind was drawn back to that prayer. Perhaps I should say this prayer more often. He began to realize the potential help this prayer seemed to give him. He certainly said it enough times during the blizzard to last a month. He repeated the prayer to himself until he eventually fell asleep.