The cart clattered across the cobblestones while Kid enjoyed the high vantage point from the driver’s bench. The ability to see over the heads of the crowd and scan for threats alleviated some of his anxiousness. He had to resist the urge to flinch every time he caught the glint of metal in the distance. Divines he wanted to be safe, to fade into the background of the streets like he had used to. Marc had given him a handful of Harts for his part in helping Lissa and they hung heavy in his pocket. He was beginning to realize that wealth did not equal security and the thought terrified him.
He just had to survive another day.
Kid sighed. He was fucked.
Next to him, Billy guided the draft horses by the reigns with white knuckled hands. The man was so tightly wound he made Kid appear relaxed. His bug eyes scanned the streets, never lingering on an individual for more than a moment, as if that were all the time he needed to Take the measure of a man. Kid caught Billy glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help but wonder what he saw. A permanent frown creased his face, so Kid doubted it was flattering.
They had set out from Marc’s manse in the inner city. The extravagance of the place had blown Kid away. Until then, he had never quite grasped the resources Marc had at hand. Before becoming a Son, he had always thought they were delusional but now… If Marc could hold everything together, it might be possible.
The scrape of a blade dragged Kid from his thoughts and his eyes shot towards the noise. A Greencloak soldier sat on a stool by the edge of the road, sharpening his blade. Kid took deep breaths, trying to calm his beating heart.
“I’m sorry.”
Kid blinked, looking to Billy? “Huh?”
“Sorry my generation wasn’t better and sorry ye have to pay the price for our mistakes. Yer too young to be doing shite like this. Too young for scars.”
Kid didn’t know how to respond to that. He shrugged. “I’m alive. That’s what matters.”
Billy frowned. “Life without joy rings hollow boy. Take the advice of an old man.” Billy turned to look him in the eyes. “As soon as ye get some coin in yer pocket, run. Turn yer back on this city and don’t look back. Ye’ll find no rest here. Find a place where men grow old and die surrounded by their sons.”
“Isn’t that what we’re fighting for? Peace?”
Billy hacked and spit over the side of the cart. Hilda glanced at Billy and made a disgusted sound from the back of the cart. Billy turned back to Kid. “I just want to kill the bastards who took that life from me. Anyone preaching a cause higher than that is either lining their pockets or hopelessly delusional.”
Kid snorted. “I think Marc fits both those qualifications.”
Billy grinned. “Aye, but mine and his goals seem to line up nicely for now”
Kid tugged at the collar of his serving uniform. It still felt odd to wear green and gold. He could see the walls of the Greencloak fort in the sun’s dying light. Carts waited in a long line at their gates while sentries paced the battlements above. He expected them to point at him, yelling an alarm, at any moment. But they didn’t, and Billy guided the cart into line.
Hilda stepped her way carefully between the crates of wine and leaned in close to Kid and Billy. “Billy switch seats with me.”
“Why?”
“Because you talk like you were shat out of the highlands and raised in the gutters of the Outwalls.”
Billy blinked. “Oh, alright then.” The man leapt into the back of the cart while Hilda climbed into the driver’s bench. She grabbed the reins and turned her attention to Kid. “Your accent isn’t as bad as his but keep your mouth shut all the same. Keep close to me once we’re inside and keep your head down.”
Kid nodded. “Yes Ma’am.”
Hilda hesitated then turned back to him. “And thanks for helping my daughter.”
Kid smiled awkwardly. She ignored him, and they waited in silence as the line grew shorter. Twenty minutes later they were pulling up to a half dozen Greencloaks dressed in armor so polished it seemed to glow even in the dim light. The man in the lead raised his hand, signaling for them to halt. Kid fought to keep his face expressionless and his breathing level.
Hilda gave the man a wide smile as he approached her. “Hello officer.”
The man held out a hand, ignoring her greeting. “Papers.”
Hilda’s smile didn’t falter as she reached into her satchel and drew a sheaf of parchments. She passed them to the man. Kid watched his eyes flick over the writing. After an excruciatingly long time, the man nodded and handed the papers back to Hilda. “Welcome miss Lynndottir.” He raised a hand into the air and waved his men forward. The soldiers climbed in the back of the cart by Billy and began opening the crates.
“Just lots of wine captain.”
“Make sure one falls off the back of the cart.” The officer called back.
Kid’s eyebrows raised but he didn’t say anything as the Greencloaks offloaded a dozen jugs of wine.
The officer pointed through the gates. “You’re going to head down the main boulevard through the gardens. Once you get to the estate, pull off the main road to the right and loop around to the back of the house. Somebody can guide you from there.”
Hilda nodded. “Enjoy the wine.” She whipped the reins and set the cart into motion.
When they were out of earshot Kid leaned close to her and spoke in a low voice. “The wine isn’t poisoned or anything right?”
Hilda snorted. “Gods no. Nobles always order twice the wine for a party because the guards are like as not to steal half the drink on the way in.”
Billy laughed from the back. “Aye and if the guards started dropping, we’d be quick to follow.”
Kid glanced back at the crates of bottles clattering in the back. “And how did you know that?”
“Because I once threw a very disappointing party. This wasn’t always my life boy.”
Kid thought to inquire further but the look on Hilda’s face dissuaded him. Instead, he stared out at the forest of tents and campfires. Hundreds of soldiers huddled around the flames, seeking relief from the frigid air. The chill deepened as the sun disappeared and Kid almost wished he could join them.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Soon, Kid was capable only of gawking as they drew closer to the estate. Beyond the open wrought iron gate was a vast garden and even in the dying light, its beauty was evident in the cascade of color leading to the towering mansion. Hilda twisted the reins, guiding the horses through the gate and winding through the garden. Logistically, the road made no sense, taking as scenic a route as possible. Kid supposed that was the point. Fireflies drifted over flowers and between trees, casting a soft glow over the vegetation. For a moment, Kid forgot his worries.
Then they came crashing back as the garden ended sharply, giving way to large courtyard dominated by a fountain and the carriages parked around its periphery. Nobles dressed in green and gold milled around the large double doors of the house. Hilda pulled the reins and lead the cart off the main boulevard onto a side path wrapping around the house. Kid exhaled as they turned the corner, not realizing he had been holding his breath.
“Relax Kid, we’ll be in and out real quick.”
Kid eyed Hilda doubtfully.
“That’s what I tell all the ladies,” Billy said without missing a beat
Hilda closed her eyes and sighed while Kid chewed his lip.
The cart turned the rear corner of the mansion, revealing a small army of heavily laden carts. Dozens of men were hard at work unloading and carrying the supplies inside A single woman stood by a lit brazier outside an open door. She rubbed her hands together over the small fire but stopped when she noticed their cart.
Hilda maneuvered the cart in line with the others and brought it to a halt as the woman approached them. Hilda climbed to the ground and Kid followed her lead. A thump sounded from the back as Billy’s feet struck the dirt. Kid watched the woman approaching them as she closed the last few paces. Her southern heritage was evident in the darkness of her skin and hair. She crossed her arms.
Hilda addressed her. “Good evening mistress, we’re-”
The woman cut her off. “I don’t care who you are. I need porters and servers, not friends.” She pointed at Billy. “You, help the others unload the carts.” She turned back to Hilda while Billy trudged away.
She looked Hilda up and down and scrunched her nose. “I suppose you’re pretty enough to serve in the main hall. “Go through the door by the fire, walk to the end of the hall and ask somebody there for Emilia, she’ll set you up.”
Hilda looked to Kid. “I’ve been working on training him to serve, would it be alright-”
“He’s not serving here with a face like that, he’s like as not to scare the guests. I told you your orders, now go.”
Kid averted his gaze. Ouch.
Hilda’s lips formed into a thin line. “As you wish.” She walked toward the door and then Kid was alone.
The woman looked him up and down and he shrunk beneath her gaze. She pursed her lips. “I can’t imagine what we took you on for. She shook her head. “I can’t put you out front and you’re too small to haul.” She sighed. “Come on inside. You can feed the prisoners dinner while I think of what to do with you.”
Kid’s jaw dropped as she turned from him. Was it actually going to be that easy? Hilda had been planning on spending half the night flirting with the prison guard or in the worst-case scenario, having Billy knock his skull in. And they were just going to let him inside? Kid was so dumbstruck he almost forgot to follow the woman and had to run to catch up. As he walked to the door, Billy shot him a gap-toothed smile from over a crate of wine. Then he disappeared as Kid walked through the door.
It was like walking into a kitchen from another world. The floor was consisted of identically sized tiles and he couldn’t help but admire their meticulous perfection. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, and this was an area for servants. Dozens of cooks raced around, crafting dishes as though creating great works of art. He didn’t even recognize most of the things heaped atop the plates, but damn were they pretty.
He would have to remember to keep his gawking to a minimum. He was so focused on the food he nearly ran over a serving girl carrying a jug of wine. He stumbled to a halt while she shot him a nasty look. She kicked him in the shin as she passed. Kid grunted and sucked air in between his teeth. Fuck, that hurt.
Kid scurried after the woman as they crossed the kitchen. Kid was careful not to get in anybody’s way. He didn’t need a second reminder. She led him to an annoyed looking cook who was struggling to tear a loaf of bread apart. He cursed as he tugged at the thick crest and had to resort to bending it across his knee before loaf snapped apart. Kid could have sworn he saw dust fly out from inside it. The man mumbled under his breath as he tossed the two halves on a pair of rust stained metal trays.
Kid’s handler spoke to the man. “Winson, I’ve got you a delivery boy.”
The man scowled at Kid. “Really? Are you sure I shouldn’t take it to the dungeons myself?” He scoffed like that was the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“If you mouth off to Chef again you might have to.” She pushed Kid forward. “Here. He’s your problem now.” She turned and walked away, leaving Kid behind.
Kid raised a hand in greeting before nearly dropping the tray Winson threw at him. “Half a loaf per prisoner, and a ladle of-” He scrunched his nose. “That.” Kid followed his gaze to a large vat in the corner of the room. As he watched, another cook poured a pot full of grease into it.
“In the Kitchen, we call it a hunk of rot and a plop of slop. If you want to add a little seasoning, feel free to spit on it.” Winson pointed to a nearby door. “The stairs to below are down that hall and to the right. It’s hard to miss the guards there.”
With that, Winson turned from him and mumbled under his breath as he fought with another loaf of bread. Kid stood dumbly with the tray before realizing that was all the instruction he was going to get. A hunk of rot and a plop of slop. Got it.
Kid grabbed two trays and walked to the vat. He set them down and grabbed the ladle hanging at the side and reached inside, taking a deep scoop of the congealed mess. He dumped it on the tray and it was immediately evident why they called it a plop of slop. He probably would have turned his nose up to this. The green of the bread seemed to leech into the slop. Kid wrinkled his nose. No, he didn’t think he’d ever been desperate enough to eat this.
Kid cast an uncertain gaze around the room, but nobody seemed to be taking any notice of him. It was as if he were invisible. Kid shrugged and walked through the doorway Winson had indicated, trays in hand. Kid’s boots squeaked against the floor as the tile gave way to wood. It was so brightly polished he could see a glimmer of his reflection in the red-hued wood. The hallway was wider than most houses in the Outwalls, able to accommodate four or five grown men walking side by side. Paintings of places and people Kid didn’t recognize adorned the walls.
He paused when he saw a figure wearing a crown, depicted standing on a hill above the remains of a battlefield. He held a banner bearing the golden sun of Venar. The hills looked a lot like the land beyond the confines of Bleakridge. Kid stared at the figure wearing the crown, an uncomfortable feeling welling up in him. So, that was the man who shaped the world he lived in. Kid had an insane urge to tear the painting down. He quashed it and loosened his grip on the trays. He let out a deep breath and continued down the hall.
Winson was right. The stairs to the prison were hard to miss. The lavish decorations gave way to a hard, stone archway in the wall flanked by two men who looked even harder. The bronze plates along their chests were clean but didn’t shine like the other men Kid had seen tonight. Thick bladed swords hung at their sides, their hilts worn with use. There was no pomp or grandeur about them, only a solemn sense of danger.
Kid struggled to keep his nervousness from showing. He didn’t know how they would have gotten through these two. Kid had serious doubts about Hilda’s charm and while Billy looked tougher than old leather, Kid didn’t think he could get through both of these men.
Kid approached them. “I’ve been told to feed the prisoners.”
The guard on the left looked him up and down. “You think they could pull him through the hatch?”
The other guard narrowed his eyes and inspected Kid. “Maybe. He looks scrawny enough.” He turned to his comrade. “Hey, remember that one kid who thought it’d be funny to take a piss through it?”
The guard on Kid’s left snorted. “Yeah. The prisoner reached through, grabbed him by his cock and slammed the hatch shut on it.” The man smirked. “Divines that was a bloody mess. Remember what the little shit was yelling?”
The guard on the right laughed. “Yeah. I was on duty up here and I hear him hollering ‘Me cock! He’s got me cock!’” The guard shook his head. “Stupid fuck.” He looked to Kid. “Go on in, but do try and keep your pants on.”
The guard on the left shrugged. “Or don’t.”
Kid looked down the torch lit stairway and swallowed. That was reassuring. He steeled himself, walking between the two guards into the archway. The air grew progressively colder as he walked deeper beneath the earth. Laughter sounded from behind him.
“Divines, did you see the look on his face?”
“Fucking priceless.”
“What should we tell the next one?”
Kid pressed his eyes closed and sighed in annoyance. Assholes. He continued walking down. The stairs didn't extend far, only about one floor. The small tunnel opened up into a wider hallway lined with thick wooden doors and lit torches held in metal sconces. Kid hesitated, taking a deep breath before walking to the first door.