Chapter 145 – Floor 13: Part 6
“Good. Move from ‘Hawk’ to ‘Bear.’ Strike than defend.” Marten instructed.
They were in the courtyard of ‘Hadrian’s Bulwark,’ a castle that had been built in the time of Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Those august figures were centuries gone, but their legacy lived on. From here, the Northern Campaign would begin in a few months.
The King instructed Marten to advise Aiden on the Knights in his command and teach him how to use a sword. Marten had expected Aiden to refuse or at least be dismissive. To his pleasant surprise, Aiden was an apt and dedicated pupil.
They had been here for a few weeks in preparation for the arrival of the recruits. The plan was to train here for the summer and proceed North in the fall. That left them with a little over two months.
Their sword lesson ended, and Aiden placed the blunt training blade back in the rack beside the wall. After swinging the heavy steel sword for a few hours, the Prince wasn't even out of breath. Marten had wondered why the King had selected him for this task, but the answer was fairly obvious.
He detested politics. Most of the Knights under Albrecht were connected to families and Houses, and technically, so was Marten. But it was well known that Marten didn’t have much to do with it.
Having returned his sword, Aiden looked up at the cloudy sky and shook his head.
“Does it always rain here? I thought it was nearly summer; it’s cold enough to snow!” Aiden commented, and Marten flashed a grin.
“It is summer. It should clear up in a week or two, then its warm weather and flies.” Marten replied.
“Great. Do you still wish you were in Londinium? I got the impression you didn’t enjoy your time there.” Aiden asked as the pair made their way across the courtyard and through the narrow corridors of the castle.
“I don’t. I would have stayed at the estate if it wasn't for my sister. It's a lot safer than Londinium politics. I’d rather have a sword in my hand than attend another ball.” Marten responded.
“A sentiment I share. Albrecht and Margrit couldn’t have devised a better way to torture me for a month if they tried.” Aiden said, and Marten didn’t comment on the Prince's use of his parent's first names. He never named or mentioned them as his parents. It was an oddity that he had grown used to.
“The reserves should be arriving tomorrow. We still need to finalize everything with the quartermaster.” Marten suggested, and Aiden agreed. Tomorrow would be their first step towards freeing the North.
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“I’m fine.” Alfred said as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.
Daphne noticed the white cloth had flecks of blood on it. The prince pulled a small vial of medicine from a bag by his feet and drank it. It was nearly triple the dose he normally needed, but the Northern climate disagreed.
“It’s the damp air. I’ll be better once the weather clears.” Alfred assured her, although Daphne doubted the truth of his statement.
They were both in a carriage, along with several other Mage students. What had started as a pleasant journey out of Londinium aboard a train with the sun high above them and warm winds at their back had quickly turned into rain and mud as they arrived at the last station before Hadrian’s Wall.
Bundled up in layers of clothing as if it were still winter, their situation was infinitely better than the thousands of newly recruited soldiers that marched behind them. At least the carriage protected them from the wind and the rain. If Alfred had been forced to walk, Daphne doubted he would have lasted an hour.
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The castle was in sight, a grim presence on the horizon that promised warmth, safety and security. It was from here that the invasions of the Northern Demi-Beasts had been driven back time and time again. Each year, the wall would grow a little higher as more stones were added to it, and the castle’s defenders would be stretched a little more thin as casualties mounted.
There was mana in the air, so strong that Daphne could almost taste it. Generations of mages had added spells and enchantments to the stones. The magic here was old, most of it dating back to the time of the Romans, where magical rituals were common.
The carriage came to a stop, and a uniformed soldier with a silver breastplate opened the door. Giving them a brief salute, he spoke.
“Milords, Milady, we’ve arrived.” He said. Exiting the carriage, Daphne frowned as her feet sank deeply in the muddy ground. The army stretched across a once-green field that the endless rain had softened, turning into a mess.
She noticed that a mile or so up the road, a small town that consisted of hundreds of stone and wooden buildings, along with wooden walkways that would elevate them above the mud, had been constructed. Noticing her start, the uniformed soldier explained.
“That’s the new barracks and officer’s quarters Prince Aiden had constructed.” He said.
“Tell me, why have we stopped here in this muddy field when there are perfectly good, and dry, quarters only a mile away?” One of her fellow mages asked, and Daphne nodded in agreement. The soldier shrugged his shoulder.
“Prince Aiden told us to gather here, so that’s what we’re doing.” He said before giving them another salute and walking away. The carriages were apparently not part of the Prince’s orders. As soon as they had discharged their occupants, they trundled along the mud road toward the town, along with hundreds of more carts that carried their supplies.
“Gods damned Princelings, making us wait in the middle of a mud pit. I have half a mind to write my father and tell him about all this. See if the King will stand for it when the House of Lords petitions him.” One arrogant student cursed, and Daphne shook her head.
“Good luck with that. I doubt Aiden cares what anyone thinks.” Daphne whispered to Alfred. He seemed unfazed by the other’s comments regarding his brother. To Alfred, Aiden was a stranger who had gone missing when he was only a few years old.
The grumbling continued for a few more minutes when shouting from a group of officers and mages sent everyone running to group up into somewhat orderly lines. Even Daphne’s group wasn’t spared, with several of the garrisoned mages stationed in the North for a while taking charge of them and having them gather together.
They were told that the Prince was coming.
Huddled in their thick clothing, Daphne and the others listened to the sound of the wind howling and the pitter-patter of the rain before it was broken suddenly by a loud roar. The howl echoed all around them as loud as thunder, and Daphne felt a shiver of fear.
Were they under attack by the Demi-Beasts? Next to her, Alfred was looking up into the sky. Following his gaze, Daphne caught a glimpse of Aiden.
He was riding a dragon. It was massive, its leathery wings stretched across the sky, and its thick scales were wet with the rain. Aiden was sitting in a saddle, controlling the dragon as it sailed over the castle and approached the ground in front of them.
The dragon landed on the muddy ground, and the earth shook with the impact as its two back legs dug into the mud. Daphne noticed the dragon lacked front legs as Aiden climbed down from the saddle. The army was surprisingly calm; the efforts of the officers, who knew that the Prince would be arriving atop a dragon, had prevented them from fleeing. Or perhaps they were scared stiff.
“It’s a wyvern.” Alfred whispered as he stared at the creature. Aiden stepped onto the ground, and the creature shrank, becoming only a bit bigger than its rider. Then, Aiden made a gesture, and the Wyvern turned to stone and shrank to become a small statue. Picking it up, Aiden placed it in his pocket before approaching the army.
Daphne was stunned silent. She had never seen magic like that before. It was magic; she could feel the mana of both the creature and Aiden.
How in the hell had he learned that?! She had to learn! Nothing else mattered to the young woman right now.
Her train of thought was derailed as Aiden stepped onto a large pile of crates that had been put there for that purpose and addressed the crowd. Enhanced by magic, Daphne missed most of the speech due to her distraction.
“-train hard, and we will bring freedom to the North!” Aiden shouted, and the army responded with cheers. Hoping down from the crates, his boots sinking into the mud, Aiden approached them. Daphne saw that he was wearing armour, black leather, and silver metal in an unfamiliar design, but he was glowing with magic. The sword ‘Excalibur’ was sheathed at his hip.
“Alfred?” Aiden asked as he reached his brother. Not waiting for a response, Aiden gestured to them as he turned and began returning to the castle.
“Follow me.”