Mouse lifted her hand and drew back the blue velvet curtain that hung from the carriage window while the other went to the back of her neck. Drops of sweat slid down her skin in the oppressive warmth of the upholstered interior, tickling her neck in turn with the beads that had been draped from the back of her crown.
The pattering of rain against the roof of the carriage was finally beginning to slow, but the cabin, cramped and covered as it was in velvet cushions and tasseled drapes, remained uncomfortably warm.
Mouse tugged at the fabric of her gown, trying to fan out her skirts, but the thick brocade was stiff and heavy, and yielded little to her efforts. So instead, she reached down, searching for her foot beneath the voluminous folds of her dress, and pried off first one shoe and then the other before laying her head back and closing her eyes in momentary relief.
Across from Mouse sat Lady Agatha, her eyes closed as her head rested against the side of the carriage. Her cheeks were pink from the heat as she slumbered, but the girl stirred little, even when the carriage lurched or the wheels bounced through a rut in the road.
Agatha had done little more than cry and whimper the first hour following their departure, but must have tired quickly of her own wretchedness, for it was not long after they passed over the border of Loquin that she had fallen asleep.
Mouse was grateful for silence that followed, for she could not bear the girl’s incessant whinging any more than Agatha herself could bear the cause of it.
Mouse looked out the window now across the gloomy landscape. The first part of their journey had been characterized by a steady fall of rain, which intensified briefly as they neared the Fjaelles, but now, as they continued through the pass, had lessened to little more than a drizzle.
The ensuing fog clung thickly to the roads, and the carriages were necessarily slowed to a pace that might allow them to stay on the path without accidentally veering into the grassy plains on either side.
Mouse leaned her head against the window, peering out at the thick grey clouds that enveloped the surrounding landscape. Every rut and puddle, every loose stone upon the road seemed to jostle the entire carriage, making it impossible for her to find sleep.
Perhaps, she thought, if she were to become engaged to some bumbling, garishly dressed Councilor like Lady Agatha was, she too would be able to cry herself to sleep no matter where she sat.
But instead, she found her mind drifting elsewhere.
Her recent conversations with Ludger had given her much to contemplate. Though she still found much of what he said too fantastical to be believed, she decided that she could allow that Emperor Lothar might have, in fact, had two daughters instead of only one as everyone seemed to think; it would certainly not be the first time she had heard of such a thing.
Of course there was the tale of Beorhtric, the forgotten prince who had been taken away and hidden in the Zauberwald only to come back some years later and save his kingdom from the dastardly Widukind. Though that was likely only as true as all the other tales told to Arosian children.
But Mouse could still not allow that Ludger’s story, even if it was based in fact, was about her.
No, it was simply too ridiculous to believe. Besides, Mouse’s life was already enough of a farce as it was.
She had been prepared, excited even, to greet the Chatti delegation, for she had made a study of the Chatti lands and the history of the people there. But their arrival had been further forestalled by recent events, and they would now, Mouse lamented, be welcomed by a court that seemed indifferent at best to receive them.
But more troubling to her than this was that Jasper was still held in confinement somewhere within Kriftel, while a would-be murderer roamed the halls.
The south tower had burned for three days before the last of the embers were suffocated by the rain, and though Mouse had sought the Captain daily, she was met with little more than a wall of silence and given no further information into the proceedings of his investigation.
There had to be something she could do, she thought to herself as she stared out of the window and into the heavy mist that enveloped the mountains. Perhaps the answer would come to her here in the mountains, where she was far enough from the ugliness and corruption of the court that seemed to blind all those within it to reason.
Though the day was dark and the landscape severe, it was beautiful in an otherworldly sort of way, thought Mouse. There was a certain romance in the way the grey skies loomed ominously, the heavy clouds crowding in closely to the white-capped peaks of the Fjaelles as the conifers that covered the mountains poked their green heads up through the mist.
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But after a time, the sky began to clear, the sun drying up fog that had hampered their passage and the dark wall of clouds that had clung to the horizon breaking apart into bright white plumes that dotted the heavens. And much to Mouse’s great discomfort at being jostled to and fro, the horses were once again allowed to take up a brisk pace.
As they drew nearer Pothes Mar, the ridges of the mountains began to slowly dwindle, and Mouse now found that she could begin to make out the Yar. It cut through the landscape like a thread of blue ribbon weaving through the plush green glens and dales of the lower peaks.
It was no wonder that Pothes Mar had been among the first settlements in Aros; the surrounding land was not only breathtaking in its beauty, but had all the defensive advantages afforded by the Fjaelles while the Yar accommodated travel and trade.
It had begun as little more than a small mountain keep built into the side of the Fjaelles, maintained by the taxes collected for travel along the Yar, and had been of great strategic significance in the early days of Aros, when what was now an empire as no more than a small kingdom.
However, in time, the mountain fortress fell somewhat out of use, and the seat of power for the region, called Pothes Mar after the original structure, had been rebuilt upon the plains that lay at the foothills of the mountains. Here a massive castle had been constructed, and the surrounding village and structures had continued to grow.
The original Pothes Mar still stood on the side of the mountains, but now served only as a watchtower.
Mouse leaned forward, craning her neck to search the mountains for the small keep, but could not seem to find it. However, she did notice that just ahead on the horizon, buildings were beginning to spring up on either side of the road. They must be drawing near, she realized with a mix of relief and satisfaction.
She glanced over at the sleeping Agatha and wondered if she should wake her, but the girl looked so angelic in her repose, her eyelashes fluttering gently upon her cheeks as she dreamed, that Mouse did not dare rouse her.
Besides, Mouse reminded herself, as she looked ahead to see if she could catch sight of the training ground, Agatha was not like to find the landscape as interesting as she did.
Pothes Mar, lorded over by General Ralist, was feal to its master in more ways than one. The area was frequented by knights and high-ranking members of the army, even hosting military exercises from time to time, and as such, some of the best smiths and weapons makers in the Empire could be found in the area.
Smithing and combat tutelage were a profitable business, and much of what the General collected in taxes he returned in the form of extensive training grounds that covered an ever-increasing portion of the surrounding area.
Mouse could just begin to see the edge of the training grounds that stretched out toward the Yar. Low walls and mock battlements had been erected in the fields in one area, while another area, further still, looked as though it be an archery butt.
Mouse wondered if she might be allowed to walk the fields, if only to watch the men at practice.
The real reason that Mouse had been sent to Pothes Mar was to draw eyes away from the capital, so that Lord Marius might make his approach unharried. But there was the added advantage of the place having been selected as a seat of contest for those men of the Empire wishing to enter the coming tournament.
Though the Empress’s notion of allowing anyone to enter the tournament had been met with initial resistance, it was proving to be something of a success. The requirement that one must be able to prove their Toth heritage weeded out a great number of people, not because the Empire was not crawling with Toths, but because lineage was a difficult thing to prove for anyone not of the noble class.
Things therefore proceeded quickly to a contest of skill, and this was the purported reason given for Mouse’s coming; she would appear not as herself, but as the Empress, to oversee the preliminary challenges, until such a time as Marius had safely been settled at Kriftel.
The timing was not ideal, thought Mouse, as something that looked like the edge of the curtain wall began to come into view, but could not deny that a part of her was eager to see to the charge she had been given.
Mouse loved to watch tournaments. Archery, of course, was her favorite, and though at times she found herself becoming squeamish at the violence of the other disciplines, on the whole, she found them thrilling.
The best part, she thought, was when a true combatant entered the arena, a man who had not only swung a blade in front of an audience, but one who had tried himself in battle. They would always come up against some shining lord or knight who had never tasted their own blood and crash down upon them like a wave tearing at the shore.
It must be humbling, Mouse thought, to meet such a foe. And there were a good many nobles who could do with being humbled.
The castle walls now rose up faster and faster in front of them, and it was not long until they were stopped at the moat, waiting for the bridge to be let down.
“Are we there yet?” Lady Agatha yawned, stretching her arms out in front of her as the carriage began to clatter across the planks of the bridge.
“See for yourself,” Mouse said with a smile, nodding to the window.
Lady Agatha drew the curtain aside and looked out into the bailey where men at arms and half-clad knights stood about, horses and wagons crowding their path.
“Gods be good,” Agatha murmured, “have you ever seen so many fine looking men?”
Mouse allowed a small laugh to escape her lips.
She had invited Agatha in the hopes that leaving the capital would provide the girl with a much needed change of scenery and distract her from the woes of her engagement to the dreadful Lord Hildimar. And thus far, her plan seemed to be working; it was no longer clear whether the girl’s cheeks were pink from heat or from excitement.
Much of the caravan had stopped upon entering the wall, but Mouse’s own carriage pressed on through the crowd until it at last drew up to the keep, rolling to a stop.
Mouse's excitement at seeing the training fields had now turned into an agitation of nerves at the idea of presenting herself to the General and his ladywife.
She wiggled her feet back into her shoes and nervously straightened her skirts before turning to Lady Agatha.
“How do I look?” she asked, her stomach fluttering as she waited for an answer that would be more favorable than she felt.
Agatha reached across, her slender fingers delicately tucking a loose strand of hair into the band of the crown that sat pressed into Mouse's dark hair, before sitting back and considering her.
“Like royalty,” she said with a smile.