The morning was foggy, dew coated the blades of grass around Thea and Eyan. Eyan had not slept, and Thea awoke to the slow scraping of whetstone on metal. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. She stretched and brushed herself off. Eyan mindlessly moved the smooth rock up and down the blade. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. He saw himself in the blade’s reflection, blurry as it was. He looked different now. He felt different. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Thea walked over to him, and examined his leg.

“The poultice has done a surprisingly good job. It looks healthy to me, how do you feel?” Eyan set down the stone, keeping his gaze on the sword’s reflection. The smell of fate was in the air.

“Feels good.” he said, stretching out his leg and wriggling his ankle. There was still a slight ache to it, but he managed to re-equip his damaged greave and ditched the walking stick.

Eyan took Thea off the main road and into some farmland that he knew was made of relatively firm earth compared to the wetlands around them. The farms of Benold were small and dark. Where outside of Silverwall and Minhold fields could stretch all the way to the horizon, most farms here contained at most an acre or two of usable land each. Farmsteads were stuck wherever they could find space, some almost entirely encircled by bogs and drooping willows. Traveling between them required intimate knowledge of where the marshes weakened and allowed for easy passing. Eyan rode through this area often, jumping over fences, trampling crops, and disturbing livestock. He got into a lot of trouble here in his youth.

Eventually they came upon a lone willow tree on a slight hill. It was bigger than any tree in the marshes and its branches and leaves stretched out to nearly cover the entire hill. It stood like a green giant watching over the surrounding land. Eyan halted and stared at it silently.

“Everything alright?” Thea asked.

“Yes.” Eyan responded quietly, “This is the first place I ever spent an afternoon with Frederick.” Thea nodded her head in understanding.

“Take as long as you need.” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Eyan took a deep breath and walked slowly up the hill, Thea close behind. As the two entered the tree’s shadow and crested the hill, the city of Benold became visible behind it. The impressive aspect of Benold was that the whole city sat upon its own island amid the marsh, which acted almost as a natural moad. There were three bridges Thea could see that led from the firm land across the water and into the city. But after the magnificence of Silverwall, Benold seemed almost like a backwater. Squat, mostly wooden buildings were loosely packed behind a stout wall of mossy stone. The roads met in one of two focal points in the city, which appeared to be a marketplace. As one main road, the path then continued up to the keep, which appeared almost ancient in its construction. Vines and moss crept up the sides of every construction in the city, and the morning fog which had since vanished in the farmlands remained across the city of Benold.

Thea was surprised that she cared, and apparently did a poor job of hiding it on her face. Eyan joked, “Is it everything you hoped it would be, princess? Better than that enchanted mountaintop tower with the alpine vista?” Thea’s cheeks turned red, and for the first time since they met, Eyan saw her embarrassed. Feeling a little bad, he said, “Don’t worry, I hear the land of the fiefdom offered for your return is much nicer.”

Thea closed her eyes and sensed the energy around her. The amount of magical flow here was impressive. The sheer number of plants and animals around created a cascade of colors in her mind’s eye. When she opened her eyes, she didn’t see a dark, dirty city. She saw a land of riches. Fertile soil, endless varieties of plants and animals. “Magic flows strongly here. The diversity of life...I see now why witches prefer the swamp.” she said with a smile to Eyan, “I like it here.”

“Oh,” Eyan said, surprised and pleased, “I like it too.” Eyan looked at the city of his origin. It’s true that he lived there, but it was only home because he knew Frederick was down there somewhere.

As they descended the hill and rejoined the road heading into the city, they saw the crowds gathered at the gates of Benold. Many caravans, merchants, adventurers, and farmers pushed up against the two gates that permitted entry. Eyan pushed through the crowd pulling Thea behind him, drawing a few shouts and curses their way. When they were no more than a few hundred feet from the gate, he suddenly halted and almost tripped over himself. There at the gate, speaking to a guard, was Caravanier Thomas. The frilled robes typical of the south of Tarasandia stood out in Benold, even amongst the merchants and nobles here, who wore angular jackets with large shoulders and coattails.

“I was on the lists for yesterday but my caravan ran into a delay, it’s not my fault the king’s oafish soldiers can’t properly fix a wagon wheel! Check your entries and let me through now! This has never been an issue before.” Even as he yelled he kept his hand on his beard, stroking it in between wild and aggressive gestures. On the side of the road there were the three wagons comprising the caravan Eyan and Thea had taken, green banner yet waving in the foggy breeze.

“You’ll have to wait for us to verify your status.” the guard replied. “We’re being extra cautious what with the festival starting today and all.” It was the wrong time of year for a festival, Eyan thought. But the amount of people entering was something he only saw on rare occasions. Taking another look around, he spotted a few minor lords from across Benold with their retinues, taking up huge portions of the road with their traveling camps, their carriages the centerpieces.

“I simply must enter the city now, if I don’t my caravan will lose much of its profitability!”

“Not my concern, now go on and wait over there! You’re blocking the road.”

“No! I will not leave you be until my caravan is permitted entry. See to it that it is done promptly and there will be no further trouble.” The Caravanier was clearly flustered and not at his best, because he should have been able to anticipate the next action. The guard lifted her spear and pointed it at the merchant’s chest. Two more guards walked up behind her to reinforce the point. Caravanier Thomas looked as if he was about to say something else, but was interrupted. A flash of green and red appeared next to him. The two witch hunters in billowing coats, oversized gloves, and pointed hats joined Thomas in speaking to the guards.

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

“We bear the king’s seal,” the red feathered hunter said, raising his silver medallion, “we are on a hunt and have reason to enter the city in our pursuit.” The guard examined the two witch hunters’ medallions and gave a nod to the others.

“Let them pass.” The two witch hunters stepped forward, leading their large, black horses. Strapped to the saddle of the earless one’s horse, bouncing lightly against its side, was the cracked upper half of Eyan’s shield. The crack in his shield that separated the head of the buck in the family crest from its body left enough to clearly identify the mark of a member of the noble family in Benold.

“Yes yes, my caravan travels in the company of the king’s men. Let us pass now or face the consequences!” Caravanier Thomas spoke up again confidently.

“You have a king’s seal?” the guard asked.

“Have I need of one? I travel in the company of the king’s men!” The witch hunters passed through the gate without saying a word to Thomas. “Hey, you two! Educate these simple guards on – hey, where are you going? Get back here! Damn you!” The caravanier threw his hands up, exasperated, and walked back to the wagons on the side of the road. He began circling the wagon, apparently checking its contents once more. The young assistant presented the scroll to Thomas, the two guards were sleeping upright in their seats, and the wagon drivers moped sullenly, fidgeting with the reins.

“How should we proceed?” Eyan asked Thea.

“Cautiously, I assume.”

“They’ll want to speak to my father as soon as possible. If they do it won’t be long before they figure out just who they encountered.”

“If they figure out who you are, they’ll figure out who I am as well. Accusing a lord’s son of protecting a witch is one thing, but accusing a princess of witchcraft is another. Do you really think they’d do such a thing?”

“Perhaps not, but by that point it will be out of their hands. With the help of a lord, my father, they could easily arrange for me to be taken, even if you are left unaccused. Maybe I don’t rot in a dungeon forever, but our plan certainly goes to shit and more than likely you are carted off back to Minhold.” Thea felt a pang in her heart at the thought of that possibility.

“If your father is the source of so many of our problems, it stands to reason we should take him out of the matter entirely.”

Eyan was taken completely aback, “Are you insane? Do I understand you correctly?”

“I could make it look like an accident. I could make it look like we were never even there.”

Eyan looked at her bewildered. Shades of her grandmother now popped out to him. Life on the run from witch hunters. She had probably killed before, and done it with some regularity.

“Look,” he said, “that is not an option. Do you have any idea how many ways that could go wrong? Besides, the hunters are off to see him now, we don’t have time to plan an assassination.” He forced himself to add, “Besides, that’s still my father we’re talking about.”

“Okay, okay, point taken.” Thea responded, raising her hands in surrender, “Now I ask you: how should we proceed?”

Eyan thought for a moment before saying, “Follow my lead. We need to move quickly.”

Cautiously and quickly they went up to the guard at the gate, pushing by a few more people and avoiding the line of sight of the caravan. She looked at Eyan for only a few seconds before a look of recognition spread across her face. “Sir Eyan!” she said with a bow.

“Knight Commander Uerwen? What are you doing on gate duty?”

“What are you doing alive?” she retorted, “When your horse returned days ago with no sign of you, we assumed the worst. This festival is for you!” Uerwen turned her head to Thea, “And that must make you…”

“The very same.” the princess replied with a curtsey.

Eyan peered into the city past the gates. He saw archways decorated with chrysanthemums, people dressed in yellow and white, bards singing songs of remembrance. This was most certainly a celebration of life festival, specifically a Hero’s Festival. Such festivals were reserved for the celebration of a warrior who fell in the pursuit of a noble deed. “How was this arranged on such short notice? It’s been what, a few days since my horse returned?”

“I don’t pretend to know the details, my lord. All I know is that I was put in charge of the west gate on account of all the arrivals for the festival. You have my apologies, the both of you.”

“Very well, I’m sure to find out soon enough. I’ll be heading to the keep now.”

“I’ll have a runner sent up to precede you and arrange for an escort.” the knight commander waved a young squire over and began giving instructions.

“No need, we’ll be fine on our own. Time is of the essence.”

Uerwen gave Eyan a quizzical look, but allowed them to pass without either an escort or runner. Eyan and Thea rushed into the city, where the crowd became even denser and harder to push through. They got about halfway to the marketplace when Thea pointed to a spot ahead of them. “Look, it’s the plume!” Sure enough, when Eyan followed her finger, he saw a red feather plume sticking out of a green hat.

“They’ll be stuck in the crowd forever,” Eyan said, “I can get us there faster.” The knight and princess ducked in between two houses, practically jumping into a puddle of mud that splashed all the way up to their faces. Eyan led them down a series of twisting side streets and alleyways, each as muddy as the last. They turned a corner and narrowly avoided someone emptying their chamber pot from the third floor of a house. The side streets were almost completely devoid of other people, apparently everyone in the city was in the marketplace or along the main road, blocking up the path for the witch hunters.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Eyan stopped running. He slowed to a walk and then stopped in front of a house that looked like any other. The pair were both panting for breath, but could easily have kept onward. Eyan stared at the house and said in a low voice, “I think we have enough of a lead on the hunters.” Then he looked at Thea with a pleading look, “May I? I promise I won’t take long.”

Understanding, she nodded. Eyan knocked on the door three times. Thirty seconds later there was no answer, so he knocked again, a little harder. Another fifteen seconds with no reply and he pounded on the door, the metal of his gauntlets clattering loudly against the door and echoing down the alleyway.

“Damn it! Damn it all!” Eyan shouted. Tears began to well up in his eyes. Thea rushed to his side and put her arms around his shoulders.

“He’s probably out there...” she said, gesturing past the houses to the main road. The sound of music and festivities broke like a wave into the hidden parts of the city where Eyan and Thea stood. “...celebrating you.”

“You’re right.” he said, wiping his eyes, “Let’s get going.”