“Nomos has received the sacrifice, Lord Aspyr,” Hystor Theios declared, arms deep in the blood, bone and guts of a firstborn lamb.

Aspyr nodded in acknowledgment, putting pressure on his traveling mount with his thighs as the iron portcullis of Aigis was raised. His pegasus Steelwing followed obediently, spared from any burden to preserve his strength.

Lances of mounted mages rode out in neat columns behind him, each anywhere from a dozen sorcerers strong to a little over half that number. Little intervention was needed from Aspyr himself, or his marshal, to organize the vassals of Kolchis as the natural hierarchy imposed itself on the mass of mages. At the head of each lance was a lord or lady carrying the sigil of their house, and following each would be those mages-at-arms and oathsworn sorcerers that owed them fealty.

For a house as prominent as Kolchis, trusted knights might be tasked to lead their own lances. For those lesser houses who had not the strength to equip a full lance, they might be grouped with others or supplemented by the mages of Aigis.

It was a different way of making war, at odds with the mounted mass of heavy cavalry often spoken of in the stories, but Emperor Hadrian had proven just how deadly his reforms could be a century prior, and so the lords eminent could only adapt, or be left in the dust.

Aspyr tugged lightly on the reins, slowing from a trot to a more ambling gait, giving the rest of his lances time to move together. His ears picked up on a sudden burst of movement, and in an instant, his father was beside him dressed in bronze mail with a surcoat of green and silver over it.

“You didn’t ask for a divination from the hystors,” Father said.

Aspyr glanced at him. For all of Father’s talents, it still showed that he had not graduated from the athenaeum’s trials before Mother snatched him away to be her husband. “There’s no helping it. Hystor Theios is neither trained nor gifted in that art.”

“Is that so?” he muttered.

“A rushed prophecy would be vague at best, and a doom at worst,” Aspyr said. “Were the Six Schools to learn of such malpractice, Theios might lose his life.” To pierce the veil of time recklessly was no small matter.

“Mmh.” Yet, Father did not leave.

“Was there something else, Father?” Aspyr asked, eyeing the progress of his lances. “We’ll be picking up the pace soon, and you ought to return to the rear before then.”

“They’ll be fine without me,” Father said with a wave of his hand. “It doesn’t take much to follow the person in front of you.”

Aspyr gave him an exasperated look. “That’s hardly the point. If we were to fall into an ambush, your absence would cause chaos.”

Father narrowed his eyes. “You seem intent on keeping me in the back for good.”

“You’ve been in a foul mood since Mydea left.”

“And I’m to fault for that?” he said harshly. “My eldest daughter runs off to a den of deadly vipers many miles away, and now my son wishes to go to war without me. What father is glad to watch as his children throw themselves into danger and refuse his help?”

Aspyr tapped the runesteel plate covering his chest. “I’m as protected as I can be,” he said. Accomplished runesmiths could charge a small fortune for such sets of armor, and Aspyr was the lone steelborn decked in such polished plate. Had he not lent Mydea their mother’s rapier, every accessory of his would be made of that hard-forged metal.

“You are still flesh and blood beneath that,” Father said. “My flesh and blood. You’d be safer in Aigis, leaving this business to myself and the marshal as you did in the past.”

“I am the Lord External of House Kolchis. This is my duty,” Aspyr said. “In the past, I had not yet passed the sorcerous trials, so my absence was acceptable to my vassals. But a strong showing is needed now, and it must be me that they see.”

“My strength is your strength,” Father said. “As for the others, what are their thoughts worth really?”

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“There is more to ruling than merely having the sharpest sword,” Aspyr said. Were victory in a duel all that was needed to garner respect, his life in the athenaeum would have been much simpler. It was the lesson Father had never taken to heart. Perhaps half the blame lay with their mother who wielded him only as a sword against their enemies, and so made him see the world as a series of necks to be chopped.

Now he was their sword without a hilt, bleeding family and foe in equal measure.

“Go back,” Aspyr said, voice turning cold as the winter wind.

Father did not turn around, but his horse slowed and soon did not keep pace with Aspyr’s personal lance. Not quite compliance, but the closest Aspyr could hope for.

After they crossed the stone bridge over the Weeping River, their mounts went from an ambling gait to a gallop that drowned out the river’s own cries. League upon league disappeared behind them as they followed the dirt roads north, stopping only to change mounts. At sunset, Marshal Perdiccas led them to a town surrounded by extensive farmlands for lodging and logistics.

“We’d make even better time if the Aigean Way extended past Aigis,” Captain Alexios noted as they settled for the night in the town’s only inn.

As Aspyr’s valet, Jorgan busied himself with preparing the bed. They had departed with little notice, and had finished packing for the march north many days ago. Heading north was, after all, a question of when, not if. His preparations showed itself now as Jorgan retrieved a feather-stuffed pillow, a blanket spelled to retain heat, and even a bear rug. “It would make the travel easier too, my lord,” Jorgan added as he placed the rug on the floor.

“Certainly a boon for the strawborn,” Perdiccas said. “But while there are many benefits to such a good thing, the money and manpower needed for such an undertaking are not trivial.”

“Perhaps Lady Mydea might move the Empress on the matter?” Alexios said.

“She’ll do no such thing,” Aspyr said. “My sister does not intend to catch the eye of Her Highness, or any of her kin for that matter.”

But if not the Empress, then Lord Eminent Pleonexia would have to be convinced to unseal his treasury and that was not any likelier. Even if Aigis and Pleonexus had deep affections or ties of marriage, such an undertaking would not be certain. The defense against the Tuskar was one concern among many, balanced against the ever present threat of the neighboring Everbloom and the Haven. Pirates pestered the eastern trade routes of the Sundered Sea, while Nysia dominated the Splendid Sea to the west.

It could be said that Empress Alcymede’s lasting and prosperous reign was a stabilizing influence which put an end to open war between the eminent regions, but how long would the peace hold? The death of a sovereign always marked a new round of succession struggles as the houses eminent backed the claim of their skyborn kin, or traded on their steel and sorcery for even greater privileges.

The Empress still had decades left to her if the gods were kind.

If, Aspyr thought. “Have we heard where the Tuskar went after bypassing Perasma?” he asked, shaking himself free of those thoughts.

“Not yet,” Perdiccas said, “but they’ll make themselves known soon enough. Once we’ve caught wind of them, it’ll be difficult to elude us when we take to the skies.” He pointed at the local map unfurled on the desk. “There’s a town here Lady Mydea visited, about two days away at our current pace. The hystor, a man named Adryan, has a crane familiar.”

“Is he amiable to us?” Aspyr asked, understanding his intent immediately. Bird familiars could scout several leagues of land while remaining relatively inconspicuous, nor did they tire as easily as a pegasus carrying a fully armed and armored mage.

“Reasonably so. Lady Mydea treated him well, and they came to an accord over the taxes their villages owed,” Perdiccas answered.

“The village seems slightly off our path, “Aspyr said. “We’ll be delayed by two hours?”

“Perhaps three,” Perdiccas said. “Hystor Adryan struck me as the wandering type, though he should be in one of the nearby villages. The man can only go so far on foot.”

“His skills would be a boon to us,” Aspyr said, nodding. “I must trouble you to lead your lance and recruit him to our cause. If he is unwilling … let him be.”

He trusted Mydea had bought them some good will with the hystor, and that it would be enough. They could hardly afford to force the man in any case. The Six Schools and the stoneborn respected each other, but the athenaeums would not stand for their scholar-priests being pressed into service at swordpoint as if they were subordinate instead of separate.

If this hystor was well-regarded by his peers, Kolchis and all that swore fealty to them might find themselves censured. While their right to study at the Thalassian Athenaeum might not be revoked over this one instance, it would be foolhardy to provoke the very men and women tasked with educating the future scions of the stoneborn.

What’s more, it would be another arrow in Lord Pleonexia’s quiver. The man barely needed an excuse to stir up trouble, and Archystor Phoebe might just indulge him.

Aspyr studied the map for a moment, calculating some distances in his head. “We’ll meet up again at the town of Jayderest.”

“As you will, my lord external,” Perdiccas said, nodding agreeably.

Messages calling the steelborn to muster at that town had been delivered by feather or fast horse before they’d even departed Aigis. It was a relatively central position given that the whereabouts of the Tuskar was still unknown at the moment, and the town was large enough to support their operations for some weeks. What more could they ask for, really?