More Lonebrook villagers had managed to slip the realm’s net than Oralia first realized. Those unable to fight had already been smuggled out of the territory, leaving a handful of able-bodied citizens to help overthrow the residing realm power. Seemingly overnight, Briony’s quiet cottage had turned into a madhouse. Volunteers scurried in and out of the front door like rats fleeing the storm drain before a flood. The small dining table had moved from the kitchen to the front room and was currently serving as a war table.
“I still don’t understand.” Briony paced the small strip of floor alongside the unlit fireplace. The sharp click-clack of her hooves echoed as she stomped back and forth like a temperamental alley cat. “Why aren’t we calling in the resistance? They have both the numbers and the power we need. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been working hand in hand with their leader this whole time. Of all people, surely Larkspur would answer your call for help.”
Oralia had done her best to tiptoe around the details regarding her working relationship with Larkspur Denari — rather, the lack of one — all morning. Yes, it was true that Larkspur believed Oralia worked for her. It was also true that Larkspur believed a lot of things that were inherently false. Calling upon the Sons and Daughters of Resistance would only result in a sternly worded letter, demanding Oralia stop playing war and return to her rightful place at Larkspur’s side. Lonebrook and its inhabitants would fall to the realm and Oralia would be forced to confront the budding dictator she’d been passively avoiding for years.
It was a lose-lose situation all around, which was why Oralia had doing everything in her power to avoid involving the resistance. “Larkspur has no personal stake in Lonebrook. If it falls, it falls. She has no reason to interfere.”
“No reason?” Briony whipped around. “Lonebrook was a fundamental link in her chain!”
“A chain that is now broken.” Oralia did not look up from the message she was writing with painstaking care. The constant tremble in her hand had rendered her normally neat penmanship embarrassingly sloppy. Surely it was the content of the letter, not its presentation, that mattered. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her requests for aid would be better received had they not looked like they’d been penned by an inebriated chicken.
“You served your purpose, Briony,” Oralia continued. “And although it may pain her to lose Lonebrook, Larkspur cannot waste her resources trying to save every ally caught in the fold.”
Briony slammed her hoof against the floorboards, causing the window to rattle in its frame. “That’s it? You’re not even going to ask! Seven realms, Oralia, at least grovel a little bit! Maybe she’ll throw us a bone.”
“You have been sending the resistance written requests for weeks. How well has that fared for you? Have you received a single reply?”
“No.”
“Then there you have it. Now you know where you rank on Larkspur’s scale of importance.” Pain was sometimes necessary to drive a point home, and thus, Oralia did nothing to soften the sting of her next words. “Your cause does not even merit a reply.”
“Well of course not.” Briony switched tactics with remarkable ease. “Why would they respond? After all, I’m just a lowly smuggler in a broken chain. My name doesn’t have the same political pull as Oralia Dawnsight, former Protector of the Realm.”
Briony graciously left off the newer additions of: ‘traitor of the empire’ and ‘wanted fugitive’.
Oralia grudgingly set her paperwork aside and massaged her eyelids, using it as an excuse to not engage Briony in direct eye contact. “Even if Larkspur was feeling generous enough to extend us her army, they would not reach Lonebrook in time. We must focus on more obtainable prospects.”
“Like who?”
Oralia rested her hand on the stack of folded envelopes resting on the table beside her. “I am calling in some favors.”
There was a timid knock at the entrance that cut off Briony’s line of questioning. The faun looked to the entryway and her irritated expression softened to confusion. “Ellery?” She gestured for the newcomer to enter. “What are you doing here? I’m not supposed to see you until the end of the week.”
A faun with a shaggy mop of brown hair and a matching beard stepped closer, offering a reassuring wave of his hand that was a little too trembly to be convincing. “I’m sorry to surprise you like this, Briony, but something’s come up.” His gaze darted in Oralia’s direction. Whereas others would have at least tried to disguise their impolite ogling, he openly stared with wide, worried eyes.
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Unlike his stare, Ellery’s words were directed at Briony. “I made sure no one saw me.”
Fauns had an unspoken language of their own. A hoof stomp coupled with an ear flick could articulate an entire conversation without uttering a single word. Oralia shuffled papers as she watched the pair from the corner of her eye, hoping to decipher some of the back-and-forth conversation taking place in front of her. The newcomer, Ellery, must have been inquiring about Oralia’s presence because Briony answered his question verbally.
“She’s a friend.” The dismissive wave Briony offered was certainly well practiced as it managed to look convincing. “Here to help. Whatever you need to tell me can be said in front of her.”
No name was offered, just ‘friend’, Oralia noted. From the alarmed expression on his face, it was likely Ellery already suspected who she was. Still, Oralia appreciated Briony not spelling it out on the off chance his face always looked that way.
Ellery took the woven hat from his shaggy head and held it in front of body like a shield. His strong hands unconsciously twisted the rim as he spoke. “An armed company from the Division of Divination rode into town two nights ago. They’re led by an elf by the name of Tarathiel Cray.”
Oralia’s hand froze as a bolt of panic shot down her spine.
“It’s not good, Briony,” Ellery said. “Cray’s taken charge of the operation. He claims the soldiers have been too soft on traitors and aims to remedy that. He’s already got us woodcutters working extra shifts for the rest of the week to help build something in the town square. No one knows what it is yet, only that it requires lots of lumber.”
Briony was quiet for several beats as she digested this information. “Any word from the main house?”
The hat wringing intensified. “Tensions are high. Mum said Judge Belfast didn’t take the news well. He and Mister Cray fought and now the judge had been locked up in his own jailhouse. No one’s seen head nor tail of Novera since.”
“Ellery’s mother is the washerwoman at Belfast Manor,” Briony explained to Oralia. “She’s been our main source of information. She passes on whatever she can to him and vice versa.”
“I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got for you,” Ellery said, already edging for the hallway. “It seemed important enough not to sit on. I’ve got to get back to work though, before someone notices.”
“Thank you, Ellery. Can we still meet at the end of the week as arranged? In case you learn something in the meantime?”
He offered a solemn nod.
“Thank you,” Briony said again with a genuine smile. “Be safe. Give your mother my love.” Briony waited until the click of his hooves disappeared down the hallway and out the front door before the smile faded. She stomped across the room and collapsed onto the green settee with a groan.
“Out with it,” Briony said from where she was steadily sinking into the cushions.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I saw your face when Ellery mentioned Tarathiel Cray. I haven’t heard that name mentioned before, but you obviously have.”
The lack of notoriety surrounding the name Tarathiel Cray was by design. As his secret right hand, Geralt Lazuli had done his utmost to keep Cray out of the public eye. The elf was an enigma, a name without a face, someone who operated in the shadow’s on Geralt’s behalf.
“Cray is Geralt Lazuli’s personal attack dog,” Oralia explained. “I have never seen him face-to-face, but he is a powerful witch with a reputation for cruelty. His presence in Lonebrook means that Geralt has grown tired of waiting.”
Briony slammed her clenched fist against the green couch cushion. “I knew it had to be something bad. Ellery doesn’t take risks, not like this. We only ever meet in the dead of the night. For him to come here unannounced means it’s urgent.”
Oralia agreed. She spared Briony’s feelings by saying as much, however. Confirming that they were knee-deep and sinking in the proverbial quicksand of worsening situations wouldn’t do either of them any good.
“Any idea what he’s up to?” the faun said, glaring up at the ceiling. “Honestly, what could Cray possibly be building? The village already has everything it needs to keep a small army for the winter. Extra fortifications, perhaps? Maybe they’re going to put up walls and seal everyone inside?”
“The details are too vague. It could be any number of things.” The fact that Tarathiel Cray was involved meant the project was something detrimental — certainly worth investigating. “If I could see it in person, however, perhaps even from a distance, I might be able to tell you.”
Oralia heard the front door open and close with a slam. The sounds of incessant bickering followed as several pairs of footsteps made their way down the hallway in her direction. “It will have to wait until later, I am afraid. I need to go over some matters with my team first.”
Briony sat up on the settee. “Are you booting me out of my own house?”
“Certainly not. You are more than welcome to stay and listen to the arguing if you like. Who knows, you might even be fortunate enough to witness the resulting fistfight.” Alas, Oralia was only half joking. From the way Mul and Lingon were going at it from the hallway, the likelihood of a brawl was in full swing already.
Briony stood and made her prompt exit. “You’re right. I should investigate this mysterious project further. I’ll see if I can find us a look-out point that won’t get us seen.”
Oralia nodded her agreement. Unlike Briony, she could not skip the impending fight. Her letters were written, the cards dealt, and now the only thing left to do was to play her hand and stand back to watch the chaos unfold. The meeting about to take place was not going to go over well. It would cause an argument of epic proportions. Of this, Oralia had no doubt, as she intended to be the one to start it.