Under a quilt of red and yellow leaves Rien strolled. Across his back a large bag and from his hip a sword rattled in its sheath. His feet brushed past and across a few leaves who’d become trailblazers, the first ones to drop from their branches into the unknown ground below. The walk to Duval was touted amongst the continent as one of the most beautiful.

“This season, many travelers often leave their wagons and steeds to amble through the leaves on foot as they begin to shed.”

The voice came from behind Rien, an older man in appearance but not in motion. He moved swiftly and approached at Rien’s side.

“This year, however, another summer has passed and we begin our autumn with naught a visitor. That makes me wonder, dear stranger, why you are walking this path alone; for there is no glory or beauty to be found at the end of this road.”

The man’s beard fell to his chest, and his eyebrows had grown nearly as long, drooping by the peak of his cheekbones; half covering the creases of age aside his eyes. Rien pulled his coat upward, defending against a gust of oncoming wind.

“Business, and business alone.”

“Business is rare these days lest it be merchants. I see no wares behind you except what you carry on your shoulder, young man. You also do not have the look of a merchant, your dress is far from well kempt and clean, just a brown overcoat atop black trousers and blouse. You bare no jewelry aside from a single ring, and you have gone unshaven far too long. If you peddle not in goods what is it you are selling in Duval?”

Rien chose not to speak, instead continuing with his eyes forward.

“In times like these only one other service may be called upon from outside. This sort of service you reek grossly of. It is not too late to turn back you know? All that awaits those who foresake the cradle is suffering.”

The words fell into silence, and as Rien turned back to face the man, annoyed at the pestering, he saw nobody by his side. His footsteps halted, and Rien began to look around. Through the trees nobody could be seen. It was indeed just Rien, alone on the dirt road, not even the steps of any other to suggest where the man had gone. The wind picked up once again, a squall this time, and he turned to face it on his way to Duval.

It was some time before Rien had arrived, but as he came through the overhang of trees he saw it. Duval. By no means was it a metropolis, but it was still grand in its own way. It sat in the caress of a range of mountains bespeckled with crimson and gold between green pine trees. They tightly embraced the town’s outer walls and as if guiding the sun’s light. They allowed Duval to be illuminated against their backing. It was once Rien reached the gate that he saw the first sign of people. Clad in armor, three knights loitered around the gate. Two were standing in full attire while a third — helmet removed — sat at an aged table, the wood gray. They were idly chatting until Rien came into sight, at which point the seated one leaned forward onto the table and called out.

“What’s your business here?”

“I’ve been summoned to the town on a private matter.”

The two standing knights reached behind them and pulled halberds from resting positions to cross them in front of the gate.

“Didn’t you hear son,” The one with no helmet spoke. “There’s a war at hand, none are permitted for entry unless pre-approved by Viscount Dorian. It would be best if you turn back now. The only way you’ll be allowed to enter—aside from having a notice—is in shackles.”

Rien continued forward, moving closer to the knights. This prompted the one who’d been speaking to stand now, and draw a short sword from his hip. Rien reached for his as well, but the gate began to lift, reeling from its position in the ground to rise into the stone walls behind, and halting everybody in their steps. Shrouded in the gate stood an overbearing figure who quickly stepped across the threshold into the outside. As the shadows of the gate passed over his face, Rien quickly released his sword, allowing it to fall back into its sheath. The face was of an aging bear. It was still as a statue’s and he spoke with a voice which shook the ground below.

“It’s been some time, Rien.”

“A long time.” Rien almost laughed as he replied.

The man smiled gently at Rien, his eyes squinting as well. One was clouded with age but the other remained a vibrant mossy green. He stepped forward slowly as plates of armor clanked against each other, and reached toward Rien to pull him into his arms.

“I’m glad to see you’re alive, boy.”

Rien let out a sigh but returned the embrace.

“Good to see you’re still amongst the living as well, Gerrick.”

The man pushed Rien back slightly, and nodded his head enough to shake the strands of gray hair on his sides from their position on his ears.

“Dorian has been looking forward to your arrival, you know?”

“I’m sure he has, I’ve been looking forward to seeing him as well.”

Gerrick smiled wider now, and turned back to the other knights.

“This man is a guest of the viscount, you may lower your arms, he is granted permission to enter.”

The knights were skeptical, but followed Gerrick’s orders, and put their weapons down.

“Quickly then, we haven’t much time to waste.”

Rien followed in the man’s path, slipping between the guards and entering the town, giving them a nod as he did.

“You’ll have to forgive them, we don’t oft get visitors here anymore. The guards are all either itching for a fight or on edge upon seeing the slightest unfamiliar thing. The city used to be bustling but now… Far from it.”

“Things have changed considerably from what I’d heard.”

“It’s your first time here, isn’t it. A shame you have to see Duval in such a state. We can only hope things will calm soon… Still, how have you been? You’ve grown so much since… well since I last saw you.”

“Things are as they will be, I’m still searching, that hasn’t changed. We’ve both grown, though you’ve only grown older. It’s showing on your face and in your hair.” Rien laughed.

Gerrick let out a chortle as well.

“Well, this is a fairly recent change. I’ve been under more duress than usual lately.”

Despite the statement, Gerrick still smiled as he said it.

“Can’t be so bad if you’ve got a grin on your face.”

“It’s hardly a bad thing, you’ll get to see soon enough.” He chuckled.

The two continued to speak about Duval as Gerrick led the way. The town may have been rumored to be quiet, but on the inside it bustled more than many cities had before the war. While it was only locals, they were all going about their day within the town.

“So this is quiet?” Rien asked.

“For us, yes. Without the influx of coin from tourists, many of our local businesses have been forced to shut their doors and move into different occupations. We have to rely solely on bartering with outside merchants and the food we can grow locally now as well. We are blessed by being under the king’s watch, many towns have become vacant because they could not receive aid, but things are still not well for us either.”

From an outside perspective things hadn’t seemed bad at all, bakeries were filled and the market had people bartering at every stand, but Gerrick’s words weren’t to be doubted, as the pair soon came across a man atop a wooden box. His cries could be heard from afar and his gesticulations gave an air of anger.

“The lords of these lands do not care for you, people, you are but fodder for their war, expenses for their purses! They willingly sacrifice your livelihoods for the perpetuation of war which does not justify itself! For invasion of foreign lands which wish not for conflict! Unjust invasion for the sake of more land, of more coin! They only care for the power which comes from that! They wish only for the clout of their names marking the pages of history and not for your lives which they will undoubtedly throw to the side! Complicit in this, is our own Viscount Dorian! He who stands by as more of Duval’s own are conscripted for this effort!”

The man had attracted a small crowd, only five at the moment, but they had began to murmur between themselves with tastes of discord in their voices. Rien moved his hand toward his coat’s breast, reaching into it and pulling two small pads of leather lined in cloth. He placed them in his ears and continued behind Gerrick. The older man had turned to look at Rien, and let out a sigh.

“Still sensitive to sound?”

Rien nodded.

“You’ve had those things for ages you know? Just strong enough to drown out the buzz but you can still hear me, impressive things.”

“I have to wear them in the city, things are often too loud there.”

Gerrick nodded to agree, and then turned to face the way they were walking. Soon enough they had passed the town’s center and the roads became quieter, allowing Rien to pull the plugs from his ears. The two continued along the streets until they’d reached a large manor which was protected by tall iron gates stretching far above Rien’s head.

“This is Dorian’s manor?”

“Indeed. Unlike many of the other towns and territories it’s quite humble isn’t it?”

“Yes, he’s living modestly for a noble. The way he was as a kid I would have expected something with more grandeur.”

“Just like you and I, Dorian’s changed quite a bit. Shall we?”

Rien nodded and the two approached the gate, Gerrick, using a key, slipped through the gate and onto the manor’s lawn. Once they were in the building, Rien took the time to look around. It had three stories but was furnished similarly to a family’s home or an inn. There was a large common space on the right with pillars to separate it from the rest of the manor. To the left what appeared to be a dining room took up most of the space, and straight forward was a large wooden staircase with wine red rugs draped down the middle and a series of candle holders attached to the wall. The rooms were lined with paintings and hung armaments as well as the occasional scattered hunting trophy. From around the top of the staircase a peak of blonde flashed. It belonged to another familiar face, which soon showed itself. With a grin, the fresh faced viscount of Duval made his appearance. Dorian, whose crystalline blue eyes looked down to Rien, shook with an unbearable excitement. With the speed of a cat the man pounced out from around the corner and jaunted down the stairs, the fluff atop his head bouncing with each step.

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“Rien old friend! How are you?! It’s been quite a time!”

His voice was shaking from the jog of each step down the stairs. Once he reached the bottom he quickly went to Rien with arms extended wide.

“I’m well, it has been quite some time Dorian.”

The two embraced with Dorian’s arms tightly squeezing Rien’s neck.

“I’m quite excited to see you again, you wouldn’t know my disbelief when I actually received word back from you! I was in utter shock to see a letter addressed to me from you, truly. Though I must say, Reilig is quite a long distance from here, so I wondered how long it might take you to reach our walls. Seems it didn’t take quite as long as I’d expected.”

“I’d received your summons at the right time. I figured it would be best to take a break and then your messenger found me in my accommodations.”

“Not much of break when I’m recruiting you for work though I suppose…” Dorian sighed.

“It’s alright… I was making no progress anyway…”

The room went quiet for a moment, Dorian extended his arm to place it on Rien’s shoulder.

“You don’t need to torture yourself over it… Besides, you’ve traveled all this way and you’ll get to meet a special guest tonight, there’s no need to be glum so quickly into our reunion.”

Dorian’s smile hadn’t faded, he was still beaming despite Rien’s downturned expression.

“Soon it will be dinner time you know? We best get you cleaned up before then, I can show you to your room and there’s a washroom not far from there.”

Rien nodded and felt a hand across his shoulder. It was Gerrick from behind.

“It’s truly great to see you again Rien. I think it’d be best if you could rest just a moment here. Take a break from Mariana.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here, I need to rethink things. Issue is I can’t afford sitting around doing nothing.”

“You know I’d always be willing to fund you, right?” Dorian interjected.

“I know you’d be willing to, but I’m not sure the people here would be quite so fond of the idea.”

Dorian signed, leaning to one side as his hands fell to his hips, a small wrinkle forming across his otherwise smooth brow.

“Things aren’t going smoothly, but you forget she’s my sister, I would sacrifice Duval for her if it meant she could return safely.”

Gerrick sighed from behind.

“We both know that there’s far too much to worry about the way things are in the kingdom, there’s no time nor funds to spend on a maybe.”

“It’s true,” Rien started. “Leave it to me, you focus on Duval.”

Dorian’s expression betrayed him, his smile sinking further before he finally nodded.

“Let’s show you around then.”

With that Gerrick returned to his post and Dorian began to guide Rien through the mansion. It was indeed smaller than most nobles houses, or at least smaller than Rien had heard, but it felt closer to their childhood homes. The furniture and design became less grandiose as they went through the hall, and along the walls to the guest rooms much different decor adorned the walls. Instead of hung animal heads and the works of famed painters there were much simple drawings hung. They ranged from sketches to oil paintings which had been completed, and were all marked with one name: Fredrick Hawthorn. The name belonged to Dorian’s father, and the paintings were all memories of his youth. Rien recognized each of them as they passed. The finished works depicted the river which ran through town, the bridge which the children would jump from, the fields of grain and vegetables. Every one a reminder of home.

“You managed to salvage quite a lot of his works.”

“Well he always kept them in the cellar since we couldn’t hang them anywhere. Most of the ones in the house went up in flames with the place.”

“I’m sorry.” Rien murmered.

“What for?”

“Bringing it up again.”

“It’s no problem. Everything happened quite a long time ago, there’s no need to worry. Also, this is your room for the time being!”

It was near the end of the hall, and was furnished with a large bed, dresser, and desk. Everything was constructed from a dark wood and along the walls hung more sketches of Fredrick’s. The room had a window to a courtyard which was decorated with chairs and tables arranged as though they were to host a party. It was a swift reminder to Rien that while Dorian’s mansion was not as grand as a royal castle, it was still no commoner’s hut.

“You can unpack here and make yourself at home, since dinner will be soon I hope you’ll clean up well! If you wish I can have one of my servants bathe you!”

Rien squinted at Dorian.

“I think I’ll be fine on my own, but I appreciate it.”

“Just thought you may want to indulge in a noble’s amenities.” Dorian snickered.

Rien threw his bag atop the bed and took his sword from his belt, tossing it as well before turning to face Dorian and swishing his hands as if he were waving a fly away.

“You can leave, I’ll stop by the dining room once I’m finished.”

“Looking forward to it! Thanks to our guest we’ve been home to quite the chef lately as well, every night our meals are quite splendid!” Dorian sang.

With Dorian gone, Rien was left to himself again, and he began to unpack his bag, pulling a straight razor and bar of soap from it. The rest of the contents soon got emptied with clothes going in the dresser and a small leather journal on the table aside a small water horn and bag of dried meat. Once he’d finished, Rien grabbed the razor and soap; promptly heading to the bath. By the time he finished the sun had begun to set and a servant dressed in a suit whose collar was too tight approached Rien’s room. Over his arms hung a set of clothes.

“Mister Rien, I’ve been instructed to bring with me a set of clothes for this evening’s dinner. Master Dorian has requested that you wear these, if they do not fit we can gladly make some adjustments.”

Rien’s expression, now more visible without his facial hair, scrunched into an upset one.

“I’d really prefer I not have to wear something like this. It looks quite tight.”

“Unfortunately this is not a matter of choice, and Dorian’s request is only a formality, you will be required to try it on due to our guest.”

Rien looked between the suit and the servant for a moment before his shoulders sank and he opened his door, gesturing for the butler to enter.

“Just who is this guest.” He groaned.

The suit was indeed tight, but not so much that Rien felt the need to complain. It was a gentle evergreen set of trousers and blazer with a blouse which was tightened with drawstrings and sported mild frills along the collar. The servant took a step back after dressing Rien and examined the look.

“At least the color suits you, sir.”

Rien frowned.

“Just the color, huh. Regardless, it’s fine. I’ll go in this.”

Once he’d adjusted the suit enough, Rien followed the butler to the dining room. It was, like the interior of the building, quite spacious without losing the welcoming and gentle atmosphere of the rest of the mansion. Dorian snickered upon seeing Rien, and in reply Rien simply gave his host a glare.

“It looks quite fine on you, but I don’t think I could ever get used to you dressing in such fine attire.” He giggled.

“I don’t think I could get accustomed to wearing it. This guest must be pretty important to have me dressing up so.”

“She’s quite important! Maybe the most important person within the bounds of the Brenin kingdom.”

Rien paused for a moment in the middle of taking a seat and looked over to Dorian.

“Most important? What, are you hosting the queen?”

“Not quite!”

As Dorian replied, a rattle was heard from the entrance that Rien had just come through. The two turned and were greeted by a loud shouting match between two anonymous voices.

“I’m not hungry now! I’ll take my meal after I sleep some!” One shouted.

“You can’t do that m’lady, you know how Herrison gets if you refuse to eat before the food goes cold!” The other countered.

“Herrison be damned! He’s always acting like a creep anyway, why should I eat his food?”

The voices went to an indistinguishable rumble before a momentary silence. The two in the dining room looked back at each other and Dorian’s smile pulled itself backed to become clearly forced. The door burst open, slamming against the wall and rebounding back only to be halted by a taller woman’s hand. She was dressed in equally formal wear as Rien and Dorian but her blouse was untucked and the drawstrings had been pulled loose. Her brunette hair was askew and strands of it crossed her forehead, getting into her eyes as she began to pull another figure into the room. This one was a smaller figure with much shorter black hair that had no signs of having been groomed at all. To Rien the smaller one seemed more like a stray cat than a person, but it was undoubtedly a young girl, though not much younger than Rien or Dorian. The arguing continued once they’d made it most of the way in.

“The last thing I want now is food. I’d like some privacy you know!” The younger one shouted.

“I know you may have looked forward to this excursion as a way to get away from your parents, m’lady, but we’re here on serious business, and as such you must adhere to a schedule still! If you sleep now you’ll awake in the middle of the night and won’t be able to get to sleep again!”

Rien looked over to Dorian again.

“And who is this?”

“Well…”

As Dorian paused, the taller woman grabbed the small girl by the shoulders and hoisted her into a chair not far from Rien. After getting her seated, the woman panted loudly and hunched over the chair while her captive squirmed.

“This would be our sovereign's first daughter, Princess Niamh Brenin. She’s to become this kingdom’s savior. Starting from today you’ll become her caretaker and mentor.”

Rien’s shoulders dropped low alongside his jaw.

“Her what now?”

Dorian let out a small and awkward giggle while Rien looked back to the princess, and from the back of his head a distant voice whispered.

“Come and find me, Rien.”

Thus the signs of the current era’s ends had begun to spring up, meaning a new one would soon be ushered in.