Anna 2.

I would never normally be at the door to the southern library, but it has been almost five turns since my failure to bring back Verity. Despite being ultimately at fault for her disappearance I still want to know as much as I can about the search. Perhaps I foolishly think I can find her myself, and perhaps with her some small redemption. From what I know of Verity I am more than certain that she ran away under her own steam – and most probably to the east. I can’t help but think that I am uniquely placed to assist in her rescue. Which is why I find it perfectly reasonable to be crouched behind a suite of armour next to the library where the baroness is holding a meeting. After all it was my duty above all others to protect Verity, and having failed in that most essential of tasks I must do all I can to see her safe again.

“-every troop we can muster, she can’t be out there when he arrives.” “Neither can our house guards and militia – they’d be torn to shreds” that sounded like lord Barter. “My daughter is out there- “and that like lady Trellis. “We don’t even know that they ran to the eastern provinces – they might be completely safe!” A voice of gravity breaks through the tumult “And you would risk our future on that hope? No. The Guard will search in small groups under my banner, and they will not be harmed.” “Striega won’t be pleased, he wanted absolute- ““I know what he wants but he’ll do as I say – now have the rest of the Guard searching every inn and boarding house in the city and…” I pull away from the wall, slightly stunned. That was the voice of the Baroness, and it didn’t matter what she was planning - it sounded very much like Verity was in danger.

I rush down to the carriage, Cork house more closely resembles a collection of towers in town centre, and it goes largely without guards, or at least not in the more informal quarters. At this time and this tower there is almost complete stillness. The stables are across Ickscourt and behind the resident blacksmith. The carriage isn’t ready to go yet but with the aid of an emergency pack and some urgent coaxing of Rosie and Dolly the carriage is almost out of the door before I allow myself time for second thoughts. If I try to think without the filter of expectation, what I overheard suggests collusion with an outside force of some description – a force that threatens Verity and our city guard. However, leaving now might cause father or house Cork to waste time searching for a less significant piece – not discounting the apparently considerable risk to myself. And I don’t want to leave home. The crooked towers and comforting damp stone hallways feel safe to me, certainly more structured and orderly than the provinces. But the fact remains that Verity would have been my sworn charge within only a season or two, and I will not be the kind of person to break an oath just because it hasn’t been formally ratified. And if I am honest with myself, the austere safety of Cork now became in my mind a rather fragile thing.

I take my father’s coat from its special case under the seat and shrug it on with reverence. I think it is difficult to explain how the those overheard words shocked and affected me, save by the observation that I now thought nothing of stealing my father’s most important possession. It hurts more than I expected, leaving him here, but he would surely see it as his duty to turn me in; I would be disappointed if he didn’t. It’s always been that way between me and father - a slightly distant respect that I think prepared me better for the world than some of this senseless gushing I see some daughters putting up with. We will follow our separate duties now that they diverge, and I know he would be proud.

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So, with the coat donned and reigns in my hand I ride through the curtain of water falling around the arch and out to find Verity.

I’m almost certain that Verity must be planning to go to the east. If it were any other baroness to be, I would be looking for the nearest and richest inn, but Verity is nothing if not stubborn – I believe she may really intend to leave. Which means she must have had some way of getting to the provinces (I think the baroness was correct in that assessment). The place to start would be the area around Trellis house, unfortunately I can’t stay in Cork for long; the smaller carriage I took is still recognisable and I’ll soon be missed from the House. It is a beauty, the carriage I used to ferry Verity, a polished black gleam with an old-fashioned curved roof and a high, spindly driver’s seat. I make for Summerfield, the most easterly province and fallen out of favour with Cork, feeling lost and not a little desperate.

On my way I stop to ask a traveller of the next caravan leaving for Cork. He hobbles along the gutter, a wide brimmed hat shrugging off the rain. The rain will be lighter the further east I go – it is closer to a steady drizzle in Summerfield. He peers out, looks me right in the eyes, his muddy and sunken, and says, “turn the other way lady – storm from the north”, he points to a darker confluence of cloud. Then he turns and limps back towards Cork. I took the path less travelled but a contingent of Guard charges past not a mile away from the border, high hats cutting the rain, the twisted tree banner of Cork catching the gale and snapping wildly. I would say I am lucky they haven’t yet been ordered to search for me, but luck doesn’t exist, and they didn’t look like they were stopping for anything.

The territory becomes far more uneven the closer you get to Summerfield house and after more than ten turns the tracks are dirt and the terrain almost mountainous. I sleep while driving and stop to get food only three times at inns along the way. Even through the driver’s coat and hat my skin is soaked and cold and my body sore.

I have once been to Juniper, the capital for this province, I was charged with getting Verity to Dame Summerfield for her education; of course, this was back when Cork still had some respect for them. A rather elaborate smuggling operation was uncovered shortly after my visit which put a stop to that. The Dame was even implicated, though all that could be proven, I recall, was that the general of commerce failed to declare the full scope of water exports. It is unlikely Verity will be there, but they might have information about coming convoys bound east. The promised storm rolls in as I pass the five-mile stone – this one is a likeness of the dawn queen looking sad and a little uncomfortable in the thickening rain.

Thunder crunches in the distance, over the next rise. As I crest the hill the view is lost in darkness, but the lights of Juniper shine out like a glistening hive. Gas lamps in the streets and hearths in the houses cluster around the Summerfield castle, diffusing slowly outward to the edges of the valley. The Summerfield abode itself rises like a huge crag, black on black night sky. Then a brittle flash of lightning illuminates the jagged ramparts, and the valley is laid bare. It catches a tide of horsemen swarming towards town, a great moving wall of horseflesh and raised steel. I see the frozen scream of a rider not half a league away as he plumets down the slope and is lost to darkness a second later.

Stunned, I take a second to collect myself before hopping down to the road and unhitching the horses. Grabbing the pack, I tie it to the riding tackle with a strip cut from the reigns. I choose Rosie in the moment though I don’t know why. Shattering to our world though it be, the House of Cork has unleashed hell on its eastern provinces. For this must have been the danger the ruling families spoke of. Over my time traveling I built up my expectations, but never did I imagine this wall of savage flesh and violence in the hills of Summerfield. I have to find Verity. Mounting Rosie, I turn left, straight off the road and onto the moor.