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As an adventuring party of six, we gradually settled into a semi-comfortable traveling routine. Captain Corwin had initially proposed sending a few additional knights to bolster our team, but Relias steadfastly refused. My instinct was to object, believing there was safety in numbers. Still, Relias calmly explained that most knights from the Order of Silver would easily be recognized on sight in Chairo proper, even if disguised as mere mercenaries.
Relias elaborated that any overt actions involving the Order could fuel accusations of conspiracy from the church's General Assembly, which would inevitably get swept up in all the chaos we were about to bring to their doorstep. Of course, I was aware that our planned actions epitomized conspiracy, but having a military order officially acknowledge our potential coup against the councilmen would be a bad place to start.
After our small group hit the road, I spent the first few days in silence, noting our changing dynamics. Thankfully, Nora was still Nora, effortlessly engaging with anyone and everyone about whatever was on her mind. I had always envied that quality in her and hoped to one day be as open and expressive with my own thoughts and opinions. If I kept following her lead, maybe I could get there someday.
Vernie's sudden change towards Relias still perplexed me. They had clearly had a private reconciliation, but becoming so upbeat and friendly with him so quickly was unexpected. I asked Relias how he could put up with her playful yet disruptive behavior, to which he replied that pushing back against her lively antics would only make them worse. He even admitted that he didn't particularly enjoy her “jocular scalp grinds,” which made me wonder if he was being bullied. But when I expressed my concern, his enthusiastic laughter and insistence that he wasn't bothered in the slightest left me more baffled than ever.
Aleph and Relias would often engage in late-night conversations about the current state of affairs in the Northern Wastelands. Despite spending seven years isolated from civilization, Aleph was surprisingly well-informed about his previous surroundings, as if he and Tetora had taken regular trips to explore the vast, sparsely populated terrain. Curiously, Tetora avoided these talks, choosing instead to drag me out for evening training before retiring on his own. It didn't take long for me to realize that I never saw Tetora alone with Relias. As long as another party member was present, Tetora would converse openly, but the moment the other member left, so did he, finding an excuse to stay occupied.
“It's obvious, isn't it?” Nora said, responding to my concern in her usual straightforward way. “Even if they haven't said anything, I'm sure he knows there's something between them. Remember how upset Tetora was at Father Baram? Now bottle that all up because your partner is close to the one person who could help or hang you over your confession.”
My face contorted in frustration, but Nora shot me a warning glance before I could speak my mind. “Don't say anything to Relias. If they need your assistance, they'll come to you. Don't try to get involved first, even if your intentions are good.” I knew she was right, but it was so annoying to see how they had to behave due to social standards...
I did, however, insist on one ritual in which everyone had to participate. If I had to drink that damn bitter root tea, so did everyone else! No one objected, making me feel a little childish over the fact that I simply didn't like it. Just because I like sweet things doesn't make me immature, right?
“It's not only about drinking tea,” Aleph advised one night, giving me a sidelong glance. “It's the act of coming together and connecting with those around you. Therefore, I am more than happy to share this ritual with you.”
“It's bitter,” Tetora admitted. “Which means it brings balance. I know you crave sweets, but all things in moderation.”
“I wouldn't crave them so much if they were around more often!” I folded my arms indignantly. “And who are you to talk about moderation? I saw you at dinner, stuffing your face full of meat!”
Tetora rolled his eyes. “Hmph! It was starting to turn. No point in wasting it.”
“Don't come complaining to me when you pay for your gluttony...” I muttered as the others chuckled.
After finishing his cup, Relias gently placed it on the ground and cleared his throat. “Engaging in communion with the natural world can indeed foster a sense of belonging and home, something more necessary than ever in these troubled times. The tea serves merely as a conduit to attune with the amity shared within and around us, its earthly ingredients grounding us. Nonetheless, I believe its role has been instrumental in facilitating this beneficial connection.”
We tried murmuring our approval a few times during his speech to shorten it, but that didn’t seem to work. Eventually, we sighed with relief as he finished, marking evening tea as an official group activity.
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During the day, we rode our chosen warhorses, giving them frequent breaks so they wouldn't get overtaxed. Aleph and Tetora were mounted on massive shire horses. While Aleph appeared comfortable atop his bay-colored steed, Tetora's awkward posture betrayed his longing to run on all fours instead. His grey horse kept giving him annoyed looks as if telling him to calm down and go with the flow. The rest of us rode Andalusians like Aurum, except their color palattes were much more muted.
During one of our afternoon pauses, Relias announced, “I wish to bring to your attention that, most likely, we shall approach the border crossing into Ecclesia ere the day yields to night.”
...Ere? That's before, right? “Do you think we'll have trouble?” I asked instead, not wanting to look ignorant.
“Should our sincere words not suffice, I am prepared with sufficient coinage to offer a donation that might ease our passage,” he responded with a somewhat strained smile. “Yet, I deem this encounter a valuable opportunity for you to manifest your confidence befitting a hero of your standing.”
“Oh... I'll do my best.”
For the next few hours, I constantly rehearsed Raelynn's usual monologue in my mind while simultaneously giving myself a mental pep talk to remember the appropriate body language. State your name and all your titles, no matter how ridiculous they sound. Maintain direct eye contact. Keep a neutral expression; don't smile or frown. And if I'm ever at a loss for words, just stay quiet and let the awkward silence pressure them into speaking instead. Relias will step in and reprimand them if they refuse to cooperate, but I'll give them a second chance to make things right. If it comes to blows, let them be the ones to initiate them. Also... never give up? Never surrender?
“Rae?” Nora's loud whisper caught my attention.
I sat straighter in the saddle. “Hmm?”
“You got this,” she declared with a smile, clenching both hands into fists as she pumped them up and down, bouncing in her own saddle. “If you get any guff, demand to speak to the manager!”
“I don't think I have the right hair to do that,” I giggled despite myself, knowing she just permitted me to be a Karen. To all the Karens in all the worlds, I humbly apologize for the negative connotation associated with your name in particular! In reality, anyone can behave in a difficult and entitled manner—not that they should!
The fortified gatehouse was neatly situated between two large hills flanked by two spiraling stone guard towers. As we drew closer, wooden blockades strategically funneled the road into two distinct lines. Since we neither had a wagon nor carried any goods of substance, we were directed to the left fork. Although some other weather-worn travelers were present, they resolutely ignored us, turning their backs so quickly it was almost as if to make a point.
Okay… This is totally fine and not weird at all...
And so, we waited... and waited.
Eventually, there was an exchange of attendants, and I realized that this border crossing was run through a joint effort of Turri and Ecclesia's imperial guards, who wore contrasting colors of green and red, respectively. The care they took to mirror each other's numbers and ceremonies suggested that a certain level of decorum was demanded by all present.
Once the changing of the guards concluded, the line began advancing again.
“Next,” a voice shouted from an elevated wooden booth ahead. Relias and I exchanged a nod before we led our horses forward, the rest of the party close behind.
An older man, his brown beard and hair peppered with grey, glanced at us before drawing his mouth into a thin line. “Which one of you is responsible for the group?”
“I am,” I answered quickly before I could lose my nerve. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Relias nodding approvingly, which relieved me somewhat.
“State your name,” the guard in crimson livery intoned in a bored voice.
“I am Raelynn Lightbringer, Knight Captain of the Holy Order of Gold, Chosen One of the—”
“Let me guess,” the attendant interjected, tilting his head to stare over his silver spectacles. “You're on your way to Amantia to see King Saulus.”
“That is correct,” I stated loudly, trying to control the conversation. “As you can see, my companions and I—”
“Total number in the party is six: four humans, responsible for one tiger, one ox. Do you have anything to declare before I consider your request to pass through the gate?”
“I...” I hesitated, glancing at Relias in confusion. I was expecting this conversation to go differently!
Relias took a deep breath. “Esteemed guardian of this threshold, we humbly implore you to contemplate the plight of those who dutifully serve the Goddess as we stand before you. Our sacred Purpose compels us with urgency to—”
“Sir, don't speak again unless I speak to you first.” The guard cleared his throat loudly and gestured out the front of the booth, summoning a few other sentries to our location. “Now I'll ask just one more time, Chosen One, do you have anything to declare?”
“No... but... don't you have any other questions for us?” I couldn't help but ask.
“Young lady,” the grizzled veteran rumbled as he fixed me with a glare cultivated to perfection from skillfully dealing with the public. “As I approach my 30th year of service here, I have learned not to get involved in whatever shameless production you bards are about to put on. I don't care about your backstories; I don't care about your hopes or dreams. All I want is for you to go through that gate behind me without causing a riot. That means no singing, no protesting, and absolutely no denunciations of any politically or religiously relevant figureheads. Once you're on the other side, you'll continue your journey without sparing me another glance. Do you understand me?
“Yes, sir,” I agreed quietly, not knowing what else to say. Bards? He thinks… we’re bards?
“Wonderful,” he replied flatly, scribbling something on the parchment in front of him before gesturing for us to move along. “Welcome to Ecclesia.”
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