8.4

Jewel considered the village from the air. With all the training with Father, there had been significantly less of her flying under the burden of her harness and lodestones.

She found the peace of simply trying to fly as long as she could under burden so relaxing now.

The smell of baking bread had not been absent from the air since spring broke. For seasons every oven in the demesne was doing some part of preparing the dense ration bread rounds for the coming campaign

And there were more changes besides.

The peasants would move between their homes and the fields as was normal. The men worked with the ploughs. But now there were always some of them making use of Father’s draft horses and other beasts.

In preparation for the coming war Father had dropped any obligations owed in exchange for using the draft animals.

He left it to the village Headman to judge who would have their turns with the horse and oxen.

Father had made several decrees of that nature since the start of Fallow Turn.

Fort Rochford’s empty halls and storerooms were being opened up to the households of the village to store their own grains, fodder and what few valuables the families treasured.

Thread and cloth from his own stores were being set aside for the use by the women of the village to save them the labor of spinning and weaving their own.

Numerous other preparations were being made.

Missives and promises to the villages and hamlets of Rochford offering the same wool and cloth that Father was giving locally, should they manage the journey.

All of it to fill the gap that was going to open when he raised the levies.

Two-hundred and some dozen of the strongest and sturdiest men available in the barony.

Strong hands that would not be available for the harvest of First Summer’s hay, or the Hungry Summer’s wheat.

Not just in the village near Jewel’s home but all throughout the Barony. And although she did not know much of them, Jewel heard word of the planned muster all through the lands which were either directly pledged to Countess Bathory or were like Rochford her vassals.

All of Viznove, which Jewel had barely seen any of in her one outing with Father, was going to be mustered to levy.

The Countess had not yet set the place the Armies were to converge but all through her lands preparations were surely being made.

Doves were traveling back and forth in the sky over Rochford, as they carried plans and discussions with Father about what might be the best place.

As first among Gryphon Lords he was the trusted voice and leader amongst them in the arts of battle and hunting from the sky.

Jewel could smell how tense he was when he read and wrote the letters of correspondence bound for Kaeketeh.

All of that colored the actions of the Villagers for Jewel.

The spring ploughing was half done on many of the fields. And it looked like the already planted hay and wheat was growing in well based on other years she had flown over them.

But there were more women out among the fields than was usual for this time of year.

There were carts laden with household treasures and bundles of clothes and pots of grain making sporadic trips up to the Fortress.

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And a Fortress it now looked in truth, more than it ever had in her life.

The gardens were gone from its walls.

Footmen marched along its stones and there were even a few masons inspecting or shoring up places Jewel had long grown accustomed to having sagging and crumbling mortar.

Jewel saw spears and bows among more than just the men of the village.

There were scattered signs of women and girls stringing bows. Arms trembling on the draw but assurance and familiarity in their backs although the muscles looked strained and long unused.

More had children fashioning simple leather scraps or cloth into slings. All over the village among the usual work of the season were weapons being fashioned or taken out of storage.

Missiles loosed whether stone or arrow, more often than not both fell short of the targets set out for them.

But among all of this Jewel saw the change in her home’s character.

Children were encouraged to run along the fields. Or played a game of hiding in the woods. Families huddled together to speak conspiratorially.

Jewel’s home was changing around her, nothing left entirely untouched by the threat of War growing ever closer.

As she made her turn back towards the courtyard to settle in for a landing and probably another drill of some sort Jewel spotted something curious.

A figure with the banner and colors of The Realm’s messengers on his back and kit.

The Horse draped with the loose cloth on either flank. Already soaking through from the sweat of the beast despite the still seasonably cool air.

He was moving at a fast trot that would have both eaten the miles and driven his steed to exhaustion if he had been keeping that pace.

Heading directly towards Fort Rochford.

Jewel dived fast as soon as she identified the heraldry!

The sight of him rushing her landing, her voice calling out in a sharp clear bark.

“Out of the Way!”

It was barely enough time for the footmen and other staff training in the yard to flee her imminent landing.

One of them was a bit slow and got bowled over at the force of her stalling flight.

Jewel had flared her wings late and flapped hard, the buffet of her Wyrmfire in the air shoving the poor man clear off his feet, but she did not have time. She had dived but the messenger had not been going slow and would cross the entire village in due time.

“I’m Sorry! Need to Tell my Father!”

Jewel glided along the courtyard and then through the halls of her home, making her way to Father’s study. Nearly throwing the door off its hinges as she hadn't done since she was seven.

“Father!”

At her entrance Father rose to his feet, face only showing a minor concern but Jewel could smell the old lingering fear that hung off of him even now.

She stopped herself short, bunching up the carpets of his study in her haste to brake her tumbling mass of coils.

“A Messenger!”

She didn't want to burden him so, and the wince that he tried to hold back hurt worse than all of his arrows in their training.

“A Messenger, Daughter?”

She nodded, finally managing to completely arrest her momentum before she actually tumbled into his desk.

Her claws had dug several shallow marks into the stones beneath her, waking them partly from their lethargy at the sudden fresh cuts and her familiar presence.

“A Messenger riding from the north, just passing the old brook. A Rider bearing the heraldry of the Realm.”

Jewel wished she could have done something to help more than this. To stop her father from taking a heavy breath and letting it out with a long sigh.

“Thank you, Daughter. I will meet him in the dining hall when he arrives, go tell your Mother so she can also be in attendance.”

Jewel nodded at his command and twisted over herself to get back out through the door without having to partly fill his study in the process.

Skipping along the hallways to find where she had last heard Mother had been.

The Countess’ words about what the High King Matthias of The Realm would wish to do with her echoing back and forth between Jewel’s ears.

“Without my protection he will take her and both of you will never see each other again.”