ã€ŠBlack Horns, Mountain Shadow [Classic High Fantasy]ã€‹


 1.1 Pentarch

    The carriage jolted, and Val swayed easily with the movement. It had been almost half a year since she had last come to the Horned Palace. The approach had always been densely forested, protecting the privacy of the Fourth Pentarch but also in reverence to the ground''s ancient roots. No longer, they had begun thinning the trees on the approach further up the road, forcing the procession to leave their scouts back in cover where they could still be hidden. Branches and cut wood were neatly piled at regular intervals and teams of workers were busy sawing some of the larger logs in the cool summer morning. The nearest escort rider, a wiry man with a bow across his saddle in addition to his spear, drew his stead a little closer to her position at the back of the carriage.

    ¡°Think they¡¯ve been expecting company?¡± he asked light heartedly, but his eyes were wide taking in the changes.

    Val¡¯s gaze lingered on one of the huge stumps by the side of the road as they passed it, the tree had been large enough a man wouldn¡¯t be able to stretch his arms around it.

    ¡°They were so old. It¡¯s a shame,¡± she remarked wistfully.

    The rider gave her a reassuring smile, then turning his gaze back on the guard house pulled his steed back into position. They were close enough now Ivory Guards began to spill from the guard house, beginning to form their welcome.

    They were a procession of a single carriage and a mix of foot and mounted escorts. The carriage was ornate, lacquered the shade of blued steel with gold accents and carved spiraling dragons, each with four horns around the circle of its head. It was pulled by six great fell bulls harnessed in two neat lines, their wide horns almost touching as they marched. Each bull was masked with a single ornate metal helmet. Two riders were mounted on the front bull of each column, acting as the carriage drivers. Both were uniformed in matching blue and gold, with ornate metal accents, decoration rather than armor.

    The escort riders were more seriously equipped, each rode a smaller fell beast, lacking the horns of their male counterparts pulling the carriage. Ten mounted riders in total, positioned around the carriage procession with another twelve men on foot, carrying a mix of polearms and swords. All wore the same blue uniform, but traded gold for the more practical sheen of plate or mail as suited the wearer''s preference. On their shoulders were twin sigils, a four-horned dragon head in gold and deep blue, and a second smaller, more subtle open winged bird design.

    Finally, at the back of the carriage, Val rode, standing on a footboard and steading herself against the rattle of the carriage with a single hand. She was horned like the fell bulls and stood a head taller than the tallest man. She was unarmed, a battle axe was balanced on the roof of the carriage that was impossibly large for human strength.

    Val allowed herself one nervous sigh, then straightened and centered her stance over the carriage, grimly picking up her axe to mount it across her back one handed.

    Her horns and size marked her as definitely not human, or at least not fully. Two horns emerged from the back of her jawline beneath the ear, short and curling down and forward to frame her face, the tips just proud in a way that would likely protect the face and neck from any incoming blows. A second pair emerged from her skull just behind the top of her ears, much larger and curling out then forward, they seemed positioned less for protection and more for threat.

    She, unlike the rest of the guard, was both decorated and armored. Her plate shone gold, and little chains and dragon charms hung from her horns and ears. In comparison, the double-headed battle axe across her back was plain, built for purpose rather than show. As they came upon the Ivory Guard, she set her chin and gazed squarely ahead, letting the escort riders greet them and identify their occupant.

    The Horned Palace was the Fourth Pentarch¡¯s private palace, sheltered behind walls that were older than living memory. The palace and gardens within and without had been redone many times, fashionable hedgerows and a neatly manicured path beckoning past the guard towers. The walls, however, were never altered. They were smooth, no joins or mortar. Solid, aged, dark stone that hinted to an older memory.

    With little ceremony the gates were unbarred, and the carriage ushered through, the bull riders at the front of the carriage team kicking their beast''s sides with heels to urge them onwards and the rest following as they felt their harnesses grow taut in turn. The rider Val had spoken with, along with two others pulled closer, while the rest of the riders peeled off as they entered and began to wheel their mounts towards a stable and barracks, along with all of the foot soldiers.

    In a few minutes of travel through the manicured gardens, passing vine covered arbours and fountains and lawns, the carriage passed below an archway and second guard house before pulling into a great circular drive at the palace''s entry, a black door flanked by four-horned dragon carvings. Servants who had been working as they came into view scattered from the front, some desperately grabbing up garden tools and baskets of cuttings to scamper out of view. The entry yard was conspicuously empty when the carriage finally came to a stop, the mounted drivers calming their beasts with gentle pats.

    Finally, Val stepped down from her post, as the three escort riders dismounted and assembled at her side. She paused to look at one of her fellow guards and raised an eyebrow, then opened the carriage door and out stepped two men. The first was young, with a sharp face and pale hair tousled in a way that imitated the mess of sleep but was too perfect to be the result of anything but careful styling. His skin was warm gold from the sun, and he wore robes in a slate grey, intricately embroidered with gold beads and stylized images of four-horned dragons. Conspicuous amounts of jewelry accented his outfit, gold bangles at his wrists, chains around his neck and ears, several delicate rings on his fingers. While his body was slim and frail, his eyes were petulant and expressive, skimming the court and immediately turning into a scowl. At his right, a second older man emerged. His robes were made of fine materials with simple woven decorations around the cuffs. He carried a staff to steady his step and had a neatly cropped beard, mostly greyed with age, although his short dark head hair was only peppered with silver.

    Val fell into position on the younger man''s left, her accessories now firmly marking her in his presence as an extension of him, decorated to match his wardrobe rather than any preference of her own. Behind them the three riders who had remained assembled, the slim man now carrying his bow, and two older men, one tall and broad with two small axes at his hip, and the third the oldest, nearing too old for this work, with a short sword and dagger at his side.

    The young man from the carriage sighed in exasperation. No one had emerged from the house as the Ivory Guard had done, nor ushered open the black doors. ¡°Bastian, go in and get someone,¡± he snapped, kneading his forehead with long fingers.

    The slim man with the bow gave a quick head nod and a quiet ¡°My Prince,¡± before dutifully trotting off to the left, seeking a side entrance he was obviously familiar with. The Prince turned to his carriage, and sensing his intent, Val opened the door again for him to make his retreat.

    ¡°Really,¡± he grumbled, seating himself and arranging his robes in his lap. Small gold bangles jingled at his wrists as he brushed perceived dust from the fabric. His voice was just too loud to be only for his close company. ¡°You invited me.¡±

    After a wait, the black doors flung open, serving men spilling out all dressed in white and gold uniforms. They quickly hurried about the bulls, taking up reins from riders and lining the entry in an orchestrated rush of action, as if this had all been a terrible misunderstanding, and now they sought to put their best foot forward to rectify it. A woman, in a careful state of partial-dress emerged moments later, maids chasing after her with combs and missing accessories, their distress the most sincere piece of the whole event. Her hair was long and grey with age, but carefully braided for day wear rather than a formal occasion.

    She spread her arms wide and greeted them ¡°Dorius, you must forgive us! We just had guests visiting and the whole place was a mess. We only saw them off this morning and had barely begun the process of turning over the rooms.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Dorius emerged from the carriage again, bristling with indignation.

    ¡°Grandmother,¡± he sniped in return, ¡°Why even invite me just to leave me as a spectacle for the servants to laugh at?¡±

    The woman laughed graciously, allowing a maid to catch her outer layers and begin to adjust them, still leaving her arms spread wide in greeting.

    ¡°Calm yourself,¡± she offered, ¡°It was a mistake, no offense intended.¡±

    Dorius visibly scowled, but still swept forward to take her hand for a short kiss to her knuckles in greeting.

    ¡°Come, your Uncle waits,¡± she announced, starting a turn back inside, ¡°There are barely any rooms appropriate for you to stay, we are truly in such a state. The dining room would be best, it is still prepared for morning meal at least.¡±

    Dorius huffed a moment, took a step to follow and watched an Ivory Guard intercept Val as she moved to match pace with him. ¡°No weapons,¡± the guard announced.

    Val narrowed her eyes, and the guard took a moment to regret his position. She towered over every head around her, and was easily two heads taller than Dorius, a mountain at his side.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t make a fuss of things, I grow tired of this farce anyway,¡± Dorius hissed, again just slightly too loud, and vaguely gestured to Val with a wave of his hand to obey.

    Val, locking eyes with the guard, obediently drew her axe off her back, held it to her side, and with no ceremony dropped it straight to the ground where it bounced from tip to heel twice in a momentous clatter of metal against loose stone. Half the servants flinched and the rest tensed, all eyes watched for a moment.

    Dorius ignored the noise, and continued after his grandmother, older companion in tow. Val pushed the guard aside with her body to follow, turning to keep eye contact with the Ivory Guard as she passed.

    Behind her, Bastian had returned to his place from whatever side entrance he had scampered off to find, and was grinning with amusement as he watched two servants try and fail to lift the huge axe out of the entryway. As the three escorts were left behind they relaxed from their positions and turned to begin helping the serving men with handling the bulls still hitched to the carriage and collecting the battle axe for their companion, a two person job even for the hardened escorts.

    ¡ª

    ¡°My King¡± simpered Dorius as he swept after his grandmother into the dining hall, now gesturing as broadly and dramatically as his grandmother had to the figure sitting at the head of the table, his mannerism shifting from irritation to flattery.

    The Pentarch sat having finished breaking his fast and beginning on the work of the day, a servant at his side was filling his cup and several advisors who had been in discussion trailed silent at the sudden intrusion. Platters of pastries and exotic fruits had been pushed away to make room for scattered papers and a small map. One advisor scrambled to gather up the most sensitive of the documents before someone looked too closely. The Pentarch was dressed regally even if for casual company, in gold with accents of bright white. His hair faded to white from silver, washing his overall appearance out as pale underneath all his finery. On his head was a simple four horned crown. Dorius swept up to him, pulling out a chair close to the food without bidding, and immediately began to pick through the leftovers, mostly throwing bits back without regard for what he touched. His grandmother remained standing, her previous energy more subdued and she pursed her lips at the sight of her grandson''s insubordination. Dorius glanced at her, and seeming to realize he had done something wrong, paused and selected a single glazed pastry instead.

    The Pentarch visibly grimaced, ¡°Dorius -¡±

    Val suddenly crashed down into a seat at Dorius¡¯ side, cutting the Pentarch short. Her gaze did not stray from straight forward and her expression did not change. It took a moment for the jangle of her chains and accessories to ring silent.

    ¡°Dorius!¡± the Pentarch hissed, the air in the room growing tense.

    Dorius waved a hand casually to try and de-escalate, ¡°She¡¯s not quite¡­¡± he started.

    ¡°Do not try me Dorius!¡± boomed the Pentarch, the guards who had previously stood outside the doorway suddenly shifting position to face inwards at their king¡¯s tone.

    Dorius appeared lost for words, pulling back in his seat away from his uncle and slightly towards his bodyguard, his hands clenching back from his earlier casual gesture to betray his nerves. The older man at Dorius¡¯ side spoke up then.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± he intoned gently, hoping to diffuse the mood, ¡°Your nephew does not have as much practice in courtly behaviors as your other heirs. I ask your patience for his bad graces, we rode the last stretch of our journey for your summons through the night in proof of our obeisance and the lack of sleep may have left him without his better wits.¡±

    ¡°Elias,¡± the Pentarch groaned, leaning back in his seat, ¡°Your loyalty to my late sister blinds you to her son''s faults. You waste your skills staying with him.¡±

    Elias bowed deeply, and remained facing the ground.

    ¡°I do my best,¡± responded Elias, his tone neutral.

    Dorius sniffed, ¡°My apologies uncle,¡± was all he offered, making no eye contact in seeming shame.

    The Pentarch took a moment to stare at Val, who remained unblinking in her seat. ¡°Get your Fae off my table.¡±

    There was a pause, and Val did not move. Then the two guards came forward, hooking an arm around each of Val¡¯s, and attempted to pull her upwards from the seat. There was a comical moment, where they both strained and she did not give way, before Dorius sighed. She turned her head to her master and threw one of the guards off her when her horn swung into his helmet and sent him crashing to the ground.

    ¡°Up,¡± ordered Dorius.

    Val stood with order given, the second guard stumbling back off her, and centered herself standing over her prince, her facial expression unchanged.

    The guard on the floor rolled about for a moment, making far too much noise for the company but unable to get his feet under himself in the ceremonial armor until two servants helped him steady himself. He bowed to his king and remained in place.

    ¡°Leave,¡± groaned the Pentarch, deeply annoyed at how long this interaction was dragging on.

    The guards took the command to leave, both returning to each side of the dining room¡¯s entryway. Elias had remained bowed through the whole display, facing the floor in his shame.

    ¡°Enough of this,¡± the Patriarch stood, waving away all but one of his advisors, ¡°I called you here for one thing so let us get it done and then you can be gone with your brute.¡±

    He opened his palm and, without looking, the remaining advisor passed him a single folded document which the Pentarch then laid on the table in front of Elias. Elias righted himself just enough to look at it, and as the Pentarch¡¯s hands withdrew he picked it up and unfolded it for study.

    ¡°You will go to Kal¡¯Fall and resolve whatever in the Spine has the locals bristly enough they have cut off diplomacy with us. You are authorized to use the local garrison at your discretion but avoid any messes - I would rather have a peaceful solution. The boundaries of the Pentarchy converge closely there and news of mishaps will reach other ears too quickly.¡±

    Elias read the document quickly, ¡°Your grace, we will be honored to take on this request for the family.¡±

    The Pentarch snorted in mild amusement, ¡°Honored yes. It is beneath any of your other cousins. If not for my love of my passed sister I would send a general instead and leave your branch of our line to rot and dissolve with you back in Southold.¡±

    ¡°Did it have to be somewhere cold?¡± asked Dorius. Elias¡¯ jaw tensed for a moment, his patience with his charge at the end of its ropes.

    ¡°Get over it. And do not take this as an opportunity to disappoint and absolve yourself of responsibility for the rest of your days. I grow sick of supplementing your income and will cut you off unless you contribute to our Pentarchy¡¯s success. You will run out of money to feed that Fae of yours soon enough and once she quits your shadow, I will not stop one of my other nephews or nieces simplifying their succession.¡±

    Dorius¡¯ grandmother looked grim, standing silently on one side of the room. Whatever her opinions of her grandson, it was obvious she did not approve of her son¡¯s threat. Dorius rocked back on his chair and appeared unphased, whether from false confidence or ignorance it was unclear. He stood up, fidgeting with his robes to smooth them again and asked ¡°Is that it?¡±

    ¡°Elias, don¡¯t fail me,¡± said the Pentarch, and Elias finally rose from his bow, ¡°You may leave.¡±

    There were several long minutes of diplomatic goodbyes and exchanges with his grandmother as they made their way from the palace again. As they returned to the carriage Elias surreptitiously passed the documents to his prince who tucked them into a sleeve for later. Val caught his eye as she helped Dorius step up into the carriage, gone was all the impulsive petulance and instead there was a steely glint of resolve.

 1.2 Ashtowne

    It was only after they re-entered the forest that a lone rider on a two-legged talon steed came trotting up to the escort, dressed in plain leathers.

    ¡°We¡¯re clear,¡± she announced, ¡°No one followed after you exited the guard house.¡±

    The older man from earlier with the twin axes at his side, Hart, gave her a wave from near the front of the procession, and the scout swung her crow faced mount around and darted back into the forest. Val sagged at her station, her pent up tension finally releasing, and removed her battle axe placing it on the carriage roof within easy reach. Several of the other riders seemed to relax as well, strapping pole arms back to their saddles or removing more uncomfortable parts of armor.

    There was a brief knock from inside the carriage, and Val obediently responded by sliding a small window open. Prince Dorius was sitting with his back to her in the carriage, but leaned conspiratorially around to catch her with one eye.

    ¡°What did you make of all that?¡± he asked, his mouth slightly quirked.

    Val hummed a moment, ¡°The fanfare aside, I find it suspicious a simple task for the family outcast required an in-person audience. I don¡¯t think the Pentarch takes any joy in just humiliating you for that to be his only objective.¡± She began stripping some of the accessories off her horns absently and passed them through the window. Elias, who was sitting on the opposite bench with his staff propped against the carriage wall, leaned forward to take them and began to neatly pack them into a velvet lined box.

    Dorius nodded, ¡°I agree, it is important enough that it needs to remain within the family, which means the problem is more important politically than my uncle - or more likely yet one of my cousins - will let on.¡±

    ¡°Have we reached the part where they¡¯ve found out about your merchant army and decided to kill you?¡± quipped Bastian as he pulled closer to join the conversation. Val twisted slightly sideways to give him a view into the carriage to his Prince.

    Dorius laughed a moment grimly. Elias shook his head. ¡°Your Prince is not important enough for any subterfuge to be necessary if that were the case. I imagine some of your cousins would take great joy in petitioning the king to cut you off if they had justification, and the Ivory Guard could just cut us down if they decided to deal with it in simpler terms,¡± explained the older man to Bastian.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to see them try,¡± mumbled Val, checking the balance of her axe on the carriage.

    ¡°One of the men reckon¡¯ there was talk of a horse in the stable as well.¡± Bastian added.

    Dorius, curious suddenly, unfolded one of his arms from his lap to lean on the sill for a better look at Bastian.

    ¡°One of my cousins then. I thought the guests'' excuse was part of the game,¡± he considered for a moment, ¡°any chance you heard what color it was?¡±

    Bastian shook his head.

    Hart had pulled back from the front of the procession and rode closer then. ¡°Your orders?¡± he called from his mount.

    ¡°We return home for now via Ashtowne, we¡¯ll stop there for a proper sleep. Organize a spot for us to camp outside of town and meet up with the others,¡± called Dorius out his window to Hart, then turning in his seat to sit more comfortably facing forward again he added more quietly, ¡°Bastian join me.¡±

    Bastian tossed his reins to Hart, and standing in the saddle quickly hopped to the footboard to join Val. He was one of few men whose height approached her chin, but she was far broader and she shifted one foot off to make more room for him. Hart dutifully gathered Bastian¡¯s mount¡¯s reins, gave his prince a quick bow from his saddle and pulled away from the carriage, lifting an arm to signal one of the scouts out of the forest and begin passing along the orders.

    ¡°We are to make ourselves known to the post at Kal¡¯Fall to the north-east, from there we will take command of some spat we¡¯re currently in with the Free Mountain State and re-establish diplomacy. Our duty is to have the position resolved by dark solstice for military reinforcement of the posting,¡± explained Dorius to Bastian who had missed the drama at the Palace. There had obviously been additional details on the documents they were provided to supplement the orders given at the breakfast meeting.

    ¡°To what end?¡± asked Bastian looking at Elias, ¡°Is there a chance of war with the Mountain State?¡±

    Elias shook his head, ¡°The Mountain State¡¯s position as a free settlement is likely not under dispute, anything too antagonistic would be seen as a breaking of the peace between the Pentarchy.¡±

    Dorius¡¯ eyes narrowed, but whatever opinions he had to offer he held close for the moment. Val had known him long enough to guess that he had an idea of what was at play, but not enough evidence yet to give it voice.

    ¡°Our relationship with the Mountain State has been rocky since the establishment of the Pentarchy. Their position as the center of a five spoked wheel puts them in a vulnerable position,¡± continued Elias, ¡°They are protected just as much, if not more, by the equal balance of the peace. If the Spine itself were not so inhospitable and trade or even troop passage could be secured through the passes, it would have collapsed years ago. Instead, they occupy the inevitable position of hissing and spitting like a trapped cat, hoping to remind their captors that they are not yet tamed within their cage.¡±

    ¡°I do not think this the usual bristling of the Mountain State,¡± pondered Dorius, ¡°There is something much bigger at play. The clearing of the Palace Forest strikes me as odd as well. This feels more like desperation to avoid attention from prying eyes at something important by involving someone un-important.¡±

    Elias finished packing Val¡¯s accessories and closed the ornate box, then began moving boxes under his bench to make room for it.

    ¡°This is proof at least then¡­ that they think you loyal?¡± Val asked.

    Dorius laughed shortly, ¡°Oh I doubt it, at best it is a test. My eldest cousins, I think, may see through our impoverished, spoiled princling act. My uncle, however, is relying on Elias to solve this issue, not me,¡± he tilted his head in thought a moment.

    Elias continued to shuffle under the carriage benches looking for something, ¡°Be careful still,¡± he cautioned, ¡°You take the act too far with the Pentarch. He would be within rights to have Valina beheaded for that show.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s taking it too far that sells it,¡± Dorius responded idly, his mind already rushing on to other thoughts, ¡°someone playing a ruse would stop at the edge of common sense.¡±

    ¡°I trust your judgement,¡± added Val, ¡°Anyway, I don''t think they''d find me that easy to behead,¡± she concluded with a hint of nerves. Dorius gave her a small grin.

    Elias sat up, having found what he was looking for, a document box, which he opened and withdrew a pen from. Dorius passed him the document from the meeting from within his sleeve, and Elias noted some additional thoughts to it in the margins, before adding it to the top of the documents contained within. He then sighed, pressing the pile down with both hands.

    ¡°I deeply loved your mother, she was the best of the fourth bloodline. Something about giving her life for a son distilled that legacy to you. An odd quirk perhaps of the line ending, ¡° he wondered. ¡°I offer my counsel sincerely and out of love for you as a warning - your skill has only carried you this far because the Watcher has their eye on you. The risks will only grow as you begin to test the boundaries of your ambition. While we would give our lives for you, we are of no use to you dead.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Elias looked Bastian and Val in the eyes as he finished speaking, his warning just as much for them as his charge.

    Dorius grew grimmer for a moment, but forged on, ¡°There is opportunity here,¡± he said, ¡°And I would seize it if I can, there is just as much risk to you all should I fail, as there is in the path to success.¡±

    ¡ª

    Hart was the first to enter the tavern at Ashtowne, his slate blue uniform traded for practical leathers. The four-horned dragon sigil was gone, instead he only wore the open winged bird design as a badge on his chest. Bastian and the other older man who had formed the palace escort were next, also now dressed in their mercenary leathers, with the same sigil on their shoulders. Dorius and Elias followed. Dorius had shed his robes and finery completely to blend in with his guard, same winged bird sigil on his shoulder and a cap on his head, ear flaps covering the sides of his face. Elias, in comparison, had not changed. Val, who would have had to duck under the doorway even if she did not have horns, was last. She matched the crew, lightly armored in leathers, only her double-headed battle axe was the same. She was the only one in the group who carried a weapon openly, all others had been left with the carriage and their escort outside of town.

    The tavern turned to look at her for only a moment, she was unusual for sure but Fae-touched individuals were far more common among the regular populace. Their carefully constructed appearance made their circumstances obvious - a small group of mercenaries, with one unusual but not unexpected heavy guard, and a single client - and interest from the patrons was quickly lost as they returned to their conversations and meals

    Hart guided them to a corner table, taking care to draw a seat out for Elias while the rest of the crew settled around them, Dorius taking a position opposite and between Bastian and the older man. Val took position in the corner, giving her a view of the whole room. A barman approached to take orders.

    ¡°We have ham from a hog slaughtered yesterday, smoked overnight, as well as bread from the local baker and whatever vegetables the cook bought in the market this morning,¡± he offered, wiping his hands on his apron.

    ¡°Food and beers for the table then,¡± returned Hart.

    ¡°And for your client?¡± asked the barman.

    Elias held up a hand, ¡°I am fine with the same, although I wouldn¡¯t mind if you have some wine instead of beer.¡±

    The barman thought for a moment, ¡°We may have a few young bottles in the cellar, likely from somewhere south.¡±

    ¡°Perfect I¡¯ll have a bottle, bring a spare glass as well.¡±

    The barman raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and busied off to collect a few plates before returning behind the bar and passing the order along.

    Bastian then eagerly drew a deck of cards from a pocket and held them out, a few nods, and he started shuffling them, leaving Elias and Val out of the deal.

    ¡°What else did you learn during our stay, other than the horse?¡± asked Dorius, picking up the cards as he was dealt them and arranging them in his hand.

    Hart rubbed his chin for a moment, stubble growing as evidence of their rushed travel the past few days. ¡°The stables were almost full and the mess had barely any room. Set the men up some tables by the muster yard instead. Whichever cousin was in residence, they must have brought most of their retinue with them.¡±

    ¡°Not a social visit then,¡± added Bastian, finishing his deal and picking up his cards. Val bent over his shoulder a moment to look at his hand and he twisted them slightly to give her a better look.

    The barman returned, placing down the wine bottle and a pair of glasses, and waited a moment before Elias gave him a wave to indicate he was satisfied. The bottle had already been opened and Elias poured himself a glass, then motioned to the oldest man, ¡°Davern?¡±

    Davern nodded, and Elias passed him the bottle and second glass to pour his own. The barkeep returned a second time at that point, five mugs of beer in hand, and placed them in the middle. Bastian then started the game, placing down his first card and there was companionable silence as the first few cards were played.

    Val snorted at one of Bastian¡¯s moves and he slapped the table in good hearted annoyance.

    ¡°Don¡¯t give it away,¡± he ribbed, and hid his hand from her.

    Dorius took his turn, grinning slightly, ¡°Val¡¯s given up your game.¡±

    Bastian tossed his hand face down on the table in irritation, and pushed his cards to the center surrendering the round. With a frustrated sigh, he drummed his fingers on the table and gave Val a glare. Val shrugged and returned her gaze to the tavern.

    It was relatively quiet for a lunch crowd, half of the tables were empty and most of the regulars appeared to be seated at the bar, making conversation with the barman. A few of the local guards entered, making eye contact with Val as they did. She gave them a quick nod, and they turned away to find their own table.

    ¡°I passed through the scullery when I was looking for the seneschal, there was a lot of red laundry,¡± offered Bastian after a moment of watching the game progress without him.

    Elias looked into his wine glass, and passed a glance with Davern and Hart.

    ¡°Matthias or Synthias then,¡± mused Dorius, placing down another card. He seemed to start to speak, then held back as he noticed the barman approaching with a platter of their food. Most was piled into one larger tray, but he also carried a separate clean plate. He placed the platter off center, so as not to disturb their cards, then the plate before Elias, adding some cutlery from within his apron.

    Elias served himself first, then the rest drew straight from the platter in the middle, absently eating as they continued their game. Dorius showed no hesitation in joining them, tearing up some of the bread with his hands and dipping it in the juices from roasted vegetables on the platter.

    ¡°I thought the Carmine Guard and Ivory Guard were one and the same these days?¡± asked Hart, finishing his first mug of beer and playing a surprisingly strong move to their card game.

    Dorius shook his head, ¡°They share members and resources in the Capital, but still maintain the separation of uniform and purpose. They¡¯d never fully dissolve, even if Synthias were officially the heir, the red would just pass to the next in line.¡±

    Val, distracted from her guard by the conversation and food, picked up a few of Bastian¡¯s discarded cards and tried to balance them in a pyramid. ¡°I saw the captain of the reds ordering about the whites last Winter Reception, ¡° she added softly, ¡°I think there is very little the Pentarch does anymore that doesn¡¯t have one of them involved.¡±

    Dorius sighed, and also forfeited his hand at that moment. ¡°Uncle, do you have any connections at Kal¡¯Fall or near the Spine?¡±

    Hart paused as he rearranged his cards, taking a moment to think. ¡°It¡¯s too far out of our territory. Even working caravan contracts your network rarely travels that far north.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve a good relationship with the Black Wolf Mercenaries who operate in that region. They¡¯re not the biggest but they are big enough they might be useful,¡± added Davern, his voice a husky drawl.

    Dorius lifted the front of his cap to rearrange his silver-blond hair, then seemed to settle on a thought. ¡°Pick a few men to go now while the journey is shorter, send them north and make contact if they can. See if they can arrange to work with the Black Wolves for a period to learn the lay of the land. If the Wolves are not in regular contact with the Spine, they are free to operate at their discretion. Elias will brief them on their objectives and help you write a letter of introduction.¡±

    Hart nodded, ¡°You won¡¯t come back with us?¡±

    ¡°No, I have some business here then I¡¯ll stay the night with a proper bed, I¡¯ll take Val and Bastian. Elias, can you send a runner with the goods I packed to the Guild House when you get back?¡±

    Elias drew out a purse at that point, and began to count some coins which he handed to Bastian for safe keeping. Bastian gave them a quick count, and hid them within a pouch he wore around his neck and tucked into his leathers.

    ¡°Get the men a hot dinner, we¡¯ll rejoin you tomorrow morning and continue to Southold then,¡± continued Dorius. Hart nodded.

    Dorius then rose and selected a bread roll to pocket, Val was on her feet in response without any bidding. Bastian allowed an expression of longing for the plate of food to hover on his face, and realizing he wasn¡¯t going to slow his Prince down, selected a few slices of ham to stuff in his mouth. ¡°I want my cards back!¡± he demanded to the table, then rushed to join Val and Dorius who were already part way out the door.

 1.3 Merchant Guild

    Val wandered through the town square at Dorius¡¯ side, humming absently to herself as she followed him from shop front to shop front. Bastian led the way, making easy conversation with merchants and passers-bys, happily discussing weather or harvests or what traders and mercenaries had been through town as seemed appropriate in the moment.

    The town was doing well, despite its size, and there was a good variety of merchants and craftsmen, many highly specialized. The laborers union house was almost empty as they passed it, indicating all waiting townsfolk had found employment that morning, the note board with job notices almost overflowing with leaflets, many stamped red indicating immediate need. New laborers, some grimy with the dirt of recent travel, were busy getting inducted by clerks in the shade of the union house, leaflets from the board being sorted by apprentices who handed them out to qualified workers and gave hasty instructions on where to report, how to collect pay, or even where to buy lodgings for the recent arrivals.

    Dorius trailed slightly in Bastian¡¯s shadow, a trained eye assessing the quality of the goods on display and the volume of trade being conducted. Occasionally he would interrupt as Bastian¡¯s conversations moved in a direction that interested him to ask a follow up question, or inquire about the providence of a particular good, but mostly he listened.

    Val was happy to let them do the talking, since childhood they had both always had easy relationships with strangers, whereas she had some very obvious differences between her and other people that usually meant she kept them at arm''s length. She instead enjoyed the brief opportunities to warm herself in the sun as they meandered. Despite it being the height of summer, it was noticeably cooler here than their home climes and she missed it.

    They were standing inside a textile merchant when the sound of an organ playing a chorale prelude began somewhere else in the town. The conversation halted for a moment as the first chords played.

    ¡°You have a Vigil house here?¡± asked Bastian to the merchant he had been previously chatting with. The merchant nodded, and started onto a story about the acolytes recently redecorating the Vigil chamber with his fabrics.

    Val felt her attention fray as the first notes faded, her breath stolen from her mouth to follow the resonating hum instead. More music followed, and unbidden, Val lost track of the conversation and her mind strayed from its lazy guard to focus on the low chords rumbling through the town.

    It slowly stirred something inside of her, like memories or echoes of something that was always just out of her reach. The chords rose and fell and were joined by a plaintive melody that felt organic to her, like the patterns of tree branches as they grew, or water carving through rock. Notes twisted in her mind''s eye as the complexity of the song built, darker, quicker, deeper, catching her breath. It was fire! In her blood, in her lungs! Not flashing, jumping, bright fires, or steady, laboring blacksmith fires, but the fire that was dark and cold mourning lanterns and incense at prayer, lamenting something forgotten. The base notes became the low murmur of glow around coals, deep and comforting, while the melody above gently danced, sparked and dissolved into black night. Her whole mind unwillingly subsumed to the music, and only fire mattered.

    Dorius touched her arm gently to bring her back, slight concern in the corner of his eyes. Val frowned, but the jolt of touch was enough for her to wrestle back control and shut out the music, some part of her gasping in loss and leaving her feeling slightly empty. She turned, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the merchant¡¯s shop where she had to constantly hunch to prevent her horns from scratching the merchant¡¯s ceiling, and looked towards the door.

    ¡°Where is the Guild house?¡± ask Dorius, interrupting Bastian and the merchant''s conversation. The merchant¡¯s eyes flickered to the bird sigil on all three shoulders, and he frowned slightly.

    ¡°You looking for work, we are not familiar with you¡­¡±

    ¡°Phoenix Company,¡± offered Bastian.

    ¡°We are not familiar with the Phoenix Company here. I doubt there would be¡­¡±

    ¡°We represent an interested party from the south,¡± explained Dorius, ¡°We¡¯ve been given a letter of introduction for the Guild Steward.¡±

    The merchant seemed to consider this for a moment, then gestured further up the street in the direction they had been meandering. ¡°Big building at the end, the paper runners like to use the street out front for organizing their deliveries.¡±

    Dorius nodded his thanks and exited the building for the street, Val in tow and glad for open sky. Bastian lingered a moment, to finish his conversation with the merchant.

    Val rubbed her sore neck, following a couple of hooded men with her eyes as they waited for Bastian. Dorius looked up at her, his arms folded.

    ¡°We good?¡± he asked.

    She inclined her head, ¡° I wasn¡¯t expecting it, is all.¡± she replied. The organ still played, but it didn¡¯t creep into her mind like it had when it had started.

    Dorius didn¡¯t seem particularly reassured.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a child anymore,¡± she continued trying to placate him, ¡°I don¡¯t let it get away from me like I used to.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t control it either,¡± added Dorius.

    Val shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure where you expect I would have time to learn. Your father nor the Company weren¡¯t exactly in a position to find out much about it when we were kids, and since then it¡¯s not like I get any break from you.¡± There was a tiny note of bitterness at the last comment.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± muttered Dorius quietly.

    Val was silent.

    ¡°I need you,¡± he continued, his voice low, ¡°Elias constantly chides me for putting you and Bastian, especially you, in so much danger. But I couldn¡¯t¡­¡± he trailed off, unsure of where he seemed to be taking his apology.

    Val sniffed, then gently responded, ¡°Look at me,¡± she said, gesturing to her horns, ¡° If not with you I¡¯d be chopping up bandits somewhere. Fae like me don¡¯t really get much choice in the work we are put towards. I¡¯m just thankful it was the Phoenix Company that picked me up and not something worse. Besides¡­¡± she looked him in the eye, ¡°How often do I have to tell you I trust you?¡±

    Dorius grinned weakly, and patted her arm as it was about the only part of her within comfortable reach. Bastian emerged behind them, looking between them.

    ¡°I miss a moment?¡± he asked, passing Dorius several brochures he¡¯d acquired from the merchant, his eyes carefully watching Dorius¡¯ hand lift from Val¡¯s forearm to take them from him.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen what I want to see,¡± said Dorius, browsing the first page of the brochure for a moment. ¡°Let¡¯s head to the Guild house now.¡±

    ¡°You doing okay?¡± asked Bastian to Val as they began walking up the street again, Dorius leading now.

    Val gave Bastian a friendly nudge to his ribs but misjudged her force, the slim man unexpectedly staggering away and gracefully recovering. Bastian laughed easily, his chin was covered with stubble unkempt on the road, growing in bright red compared to his dark chestnut head hair. He playfully reached up to grab one of her chin horns and pulled hard downwards, tilting her head and throwing her off balance for a moment. She growled, a hint of red on her cheeks in embarrassment. The exchange seemed to satisfy Bastian¡¯s question though, and he asked no more questions as they wandered towards the Guild House.

    One of the younger men from the Company was waiting for them outside the Guild House, a talon steed curving its head sideways to watch the paper runners with one large black eye, as they organized deliveries sprawled on the street in front of them. He saluted them as they approached, and handed Dorius a carefully wrapped package. Dorius dismissed him, and continued into the Guild House. An attendant was seated at a large desk behind a comfortable waiting area, busily sorting bills and contracts into folders stacked behind his desk.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°I have a letter of introduction from the Southold Guild Steward,¡± said Dorius clearly, drawing a wax sealed envelope from the package, and placing it for the attendant to see. The attendant picked up a pair of eye lenses and inspected the red seal, then satisfied at its legitimacy pushed it back over the desk to Dorius. He clicked his fingers, waving over one of the apprentices.

    ¡°Go see if the Steward is free,¡± he instructed and looking back at his guests, ¡°you may take a seat.¡±

    Dorius and Bastian sat as bid, Val hovered standing. The attendant continued to busy himself with the huge pile of contracts he was sorting. After a short wait the apprentice returned and beckoned them upstairs.

    The Steward was a large man, seated at an elegant desk half covered with paperwork and ledgers. He wore brightly colored fabrics with some basic embroidery on the collar and cuffs, but his sleeves were stained with ink. On several fingers he wore chunky silver rings, black ink staining the inlays on a few as well. He did not stand when they entered but gestured for them to take seats opposite his desk.

    Dorius took off his cap as he sat, passing it and the wrapped package to Bastian who sat next to him, keeping two envelopes in his lap. He ran his fingers through his silver-blonde hair, trying to fluff it up where it had flattened. Val hovered by the door, and with the Stewards permission shut it.

    ¡°I''ve never heard of the Phoenix Company this far north?¡± began the Steward without ceremony, picking up a pen and signing the document he had been working on before dropping it to the floor in another pile.

    ¡°We don''t operate here, I''m not on Company business,¡± explained Dorius, meaningfully presenting the envelopes in his hand. He placed both down before the Steward on the desk, and then carefully splayed them revealing the wax seals. One was stamped with red wax, the seal a beehive and coins - it had been the letter used to gain them entry. The other was distinctly more opulent, made of paper an elegant creamy hue and the wax a glossy gold, the seal was an intricate four-horned dragon on slate blue ribbon.

    The Steward paused, slowly placed his pen down and pushed the papers he was working on to the side. He took both envelopes, but the dragon headed one was the one he flipped to inspect first.

    ¡°What''s your relationship to the Company?¡± He asked, flipping some papers on his desk till he uncovered his pen knife.

    ¡°My uncle negotiates our contracts,¡± replied Dorius. The Steward looked at him carefully for a moment, then opened the letter with the dragon seal. He read it quickly, then opened the second and did the same. He rang a small bell on his desk as he read, and Val stepped aside to let an apprentice back in.

    ¡°Refreshments for our guests!¡± He quickly ordered, and haphazardly shoved most of the papers to one side of his desk as he finished reading.

    ¡°My apologies, let us start again. I am Bart the Guild Steward in Ashtowne. I represent all Merchant Guild activities as well as the Laborers and Crafts Union. We are not a large town, but proximity to the private Palace keeps us busy¡± he said suddenly warm, standing and extending both hands. Dorius stood and grasped his offered hand eagerly, exchanging a firm shake and a winning smile.

    ¡°I am Dorn, I represent the interests of the Southold Merchant¡¯s Guild for this interaction. I have been authorized to offer you several contracts to consider, as well as samples of goods,¡± replied Dorius. Bastian laid the package on the desk to punctuate the introduction, it clunked with the promising weight of something inside.

    ¡°A moment, we will have tea while we discuss,¡± said the Steward, offering his hands to Bastian for a shake as well and giving Val a nod. ¡°Do you normally negotiate for your client?¡± queried Bart as he reseated himself.

    Dorius shook his head, ¡°I am not here to negotiate, only open the door for the Guild with some initial offers. You may have heard the Prince at Southold has a close relationship with the Phoenix Company, but it also extends to the Guild. My presence represents his wishes for positive negotiations along with his letter of intent.¡±

    The Steward nodded knowingly, and gestured for the returning apprentice to place the fine china teacups at his desk before Dorius and Bastian. Dorius took a cup and allowed himself a moment to smell the herbal tea, before taking a small sip to test the temperature. ¡°Bastian, could you?¡± He asked, sitting back in his seat a bit to enjoy the tea.

    Bastian stood and unwrapped the parcel, from it he carefully laid out several rings inset with polished black stone, some cuffs of various sizes in a milky green stone and a necklace with a large jeweled pendant made of the same green material.

    He selected one of the rings and opened his hand beckoning the Steward.

    ¡°The black stone is called Hematite, it can be cut and polished into any shape but looks best as a seal or broach. Here it has been set in silver,¡± Bastian explained as he took the Stewards hand. He carefully examined the Steward¡¯s current rings, estimating the size of his fingers, ¡°May I?¡± he asked, all smooth and charming elegance.

    The Steward nodded, looking greedily at the rings, and Bastian removed one and placed his selected ring on the Steward¡¯s hand, letting him draw it back to examine the stone.

    ¡°The Free States past the southern desert say they trade for it with a Barbarian clan further south again. It is durable and can be repolished anew, making it an excellent choice for a buyer who cannot afford gems and gold,¡± he explained. ¡°The cuffs they call Jadeite. We bought these to show the variation in the colors but it can be easily carved into delicate shapes and make excellent little baubles, paperweights, and other trinkets.¡±

    ¡°They are not quite as nice as the gems coveted by nobles and royals,¡± added Dorius, ¡° but our client is aware of growing markets among the well-to-do folk. Peace in the time of the Pentarchy has been good, family businesses have grown and craftsmen and merchants have coins to spend. This is the market we seek. Why not provide them with new options that let them show off their elevated status without intruding on the upper ranks?¡±

    The Steward examined the ring closely, brushing its polished surface with his thumb. ¡°It is true, we import furs and fabrics now more for the common man than Palace use. Even the lowest laborer has some coin to spare to buy his beau a gift, or indulge in a nice hat for nights on the town.¡±

    ¡°It is in the Prince¡¯s best interest to encourage this within his own holdings,¡± continued Dorius, ¡°Distant are the memories where the royal lineages held their power through the exclusive control of Fae magic. Gone too are the days where warlords protect their lands, and in doing so prove their worth to the everyman. The Prince would seek a new alliance with the people, bringing wealth and opportunity through his means.¡±

    The Steward raised an eyebrow, the words were almost seditious if they had been spoken by any mouth other than one claiming to represent a member of the Pentarchy, albeit distant, and accompanied with his seal on a letter. But it seemed, they were not without merit, and the Steward turned them about in his mind for a moment, examining the ring.

    ¡°We take great pride in our Pentarch and the prestige it brings our town,¡± he finally offered in response, ¡°But¡­ I agree there is a market here for what you propose.¡±

    ¡°Of course, the dignity of nobility is without question. Hence, we offer the prospect of lesser stones fitting the rank and station of prospective buyers,¡± acquiesced Dorius, ¡° In turn, my understanding is the Southold Guild seeks connections to your trade north for more reliable supplies of timber and metals, as well as crafts of that like. We offer access to these goods secured from Free State trade, as well as salt, wine and wax which are abundant goods in Southold.¡±

    Dorius drew out several string bound contracts from within his shirt, ¡°My client only asks that you consider these contracts as a starting point for negotiation and reach out with a trusted man when you are ready. We could do an equal exchange of goods, or establish networks for buy and sell per your Guild¡¯s preferences.¡±

    ¡°And your company would benefit from increased work?¡± asked Bart.

    Dorius merely smiled, ¡°It would be an added benefit, but not my purpose.¡±

    Bart leaned back in his chair, considering the conversation. Then in a low voice added, ¡°I am aware the Prince at Southold is somewhat of a black sheep among the royal family, while we know of his name none of us ever see him in residence at the palace. We would not wish to attract ire from our most important buyers by affiliation.¡±

    Dorius set down the teacup, ¡°As I said, consideration only,¡± he responded blandly, ¡°Our Company''s relations with our Prince is public knowledge, but his interest in his Guild is only that of a benevolent patron. The Palace need not know where from or how goods come, only that you have sourced new wares for their interest, and we ask no subterfuge on your part if they do ask. The Prince himself is not a party of any contract we have represented to you. I trust your instinct to best guide your Guild¡¯s interests.¡±

    Dorius stood, as if to conclude his business, taking his cap from Bastian. The Steward rose with him, beginning to remove the ring from his finger.

    ¡°No, it is a gift,¡± explained Bastian, also pushing the cuffs and necklace along the table to indicate they were included.

    The Steward eyed the necklace and cuffs for a moment, and turned the ring about his finger. Then decided to leave it in place, and moved to lead his guests out the door. Bastian handled most of the formalities of their farewells as they left more documents with contact details at the front attendant¡¯s desk, Bart keeping a watchful eye on what was exchanged.

    On the street Dorius stretched arms overhead catlike, a satisfied grin on his face, and replaced his cap tucking his hair underneath it. ¡°Let¡¯s find somewhere for the night then,¡± he declared, content with his business concluded.

 1.4 Black Blood

    Val woke with a start, unsure for a moment what had disturbed her, then there was a second muffled thud in the room next to her. She exploded from the bed and crashed through the doorway separating the rooms, throwing the door off its hinges.

    A masked figure had a thin cord around Dorius¡¯ neck and had him pulled up against the head of the bed. The prince was shirtless, clawing at his neck with both hands, and kicking the bed canopy which had been shaking against the wall.

    Val dove at them, breaking through one of the support beams of the bed canopy. The assassin fumbled, loosening his grip on Dorius enough for the Prince to pull away gasping as Val and the canopy came down on them both.

    Val felt the bed curtain tangle around her horns, something tugging it towards the window. She grabbed towards that motion, finding a limb and dragging it back towards her. Hot pain suddenly ran down her forearm but she resolutely did not let go, using her other arm to try and untangle the curtains off her head and horns to make sense of the chaos.

    ¡°Val!¡± gasped someone underneath her, and she felt a body pull close beneath her feet.

    Val finally pulled the heaping fabric off her head and caught a glimpse of the masked figure at the end of her arm, just as tangled as her, a splintered cludgel in hand from a shattered fragment of the canopy. Realizing she had him by the ankle, she righted herself and spun, throwing the man easily against the wall and away from Dorius. The assassin crashed sideways into the wall and crumpled to the ground stunned, followed by half the fabric tangled around them and several shattered smaller wooden pieces from the canopy. Val pulled herself fully free of the mess, shaking her head and bumping her horns against the ceiling, not realizing she was standing on the bed now. Dorius was beneath her, gasping and pale, eyes wide with fear, his fingernails blooded where he had clawed at the cord and bright red welts already forming around his neck.

    Reassured he was alive, Val turned her attention to the figure who was now attempting to scramble to his feet under the mess of splintered wood and fabric. With a few steps she closed the distance, grabbing an arm and pulling him upright. The assassin swung his improvised weapon with his other hand at her face but it caught on a chin horn and bounced out of his hand. She caught sight of his eyes growing wide with fear and confusion, and she growled, lifting him upwards and completely off the ground. He kicked, but the mess of bed canopy hanging from him muted any blows that made contact with her. With her forearm she pinned his torso against the wall, and she smashed her head forward, heavy head horns embedding into the wall and caging the man''s face just before her forehead made contact with his. Shaking with rage, she roared, face locked within inches of his, nostrils flaring like a bull. The figure''s eyes darted around desperately underneath his mask, trying to make sense of the creature that had him pinned, and the chaos seemed to finally quiet for a moment.

    Somewhere behind her, Bastian had come running into the room, and had gone straight to Dorius, helping him to the edge of the bed where he was doubled over still desperately gasping for air. Someone from the inn wasn¡¯t far behind, holding up a lantern to illuminate the aftermath.

    The bed still stood, but the canopy had been torn down and shattered into several pieces, strewn about the room with the tangled mess of the curtains. Val¡¯s black blood was splattered in several places, and smeared glossily all over the assassin, the wound on the arm she was pinning him with still lazily dripping blood.

    ¡°Poison!¡± gasped Dorius between a breath. Val paused, then understanding in a sudden rush, unpinned the man and grabbed his jaw roughly, fingers in his mouth. It was too late, between her fingers he was already gargling up a foaming spittle. He coughed and she dropped him in disgust, tearing her horns free from the wall in a shower of wood. Bastian scampered to the body, propping it up, but the assassin''s eyes were already rolling and his fingers twitching in seizure. Barely a moment passed, and the movement stopped, his eyes beginning to glaze.

    ¡°He¡¯s already dead,¡± announced Bastian. Val seemed to finally shrink then, looked weakly at the mess beneath her and the blood dripping from her forearm, then stumbled back to sit on the bed next to Dorius, head in her hands to steady herself as the rush of adrenaline ebbed into exhaustion.

    ¡°I¡¯ll wake a stable boy, he can get a surgeon!¡± offered the innkeep, and leaving his lantern he slipped from the room.

    Bastian stood, glanced at his two friends, and retrieved the lantern, bringing it close to the assassin¡¯s body and beginning to search through his clothing. Dorius seemed to finally catch his breath and watched the dead man as Bastian turned out his pockets, just to be sure he didn¡¯t spring to life again.

    ¡°Anything?¡± he asked, his voice ragged.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Bastian, letting the body slump to the ground. The mask removed revealed an unremarkable face.

    ¡°He had a garotte,¡± said Val, face still hidden in her hands, ¡°I don¡¯t know where it went.¡±

    Bastian stood, looked at her, and began to search the wood shards and curtains trying to find the weapon. Val took one deep breath, and finally raised her head to properly look around. She stared blankly at the assassin''s body for a moment, then looked at Dorius. He had his legs tucked against his body, one arm wrapped around them and the other tracing the welts on his neck. His eyes were cloudy as if his mind was miles away. Val studied him for a moment, reassuring herself he was mostly unharmed, and gently retrieved the blanket from the bed behind them, wrapping it loosely around his shoulders. She then stood, Bastian was shirtless but had managed to hang a belt with his daggers across his chest in his rush to the room, one which he was using to fish around the mess of curtains and splintered wood for any clues.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Aware she herself was only wearing breast bindings and shorts, she returned to her room a moment to find something to cover herself. As she wandered back in, pulling a shirt on and starting to lace the front, Bastian gave her arm a meaningful look, brows tight. He¡¯d found the cord and was carefully winding it in his hands. Following his look, the cut on her arm was ragged with tendrils of severed flesh hanging, a lucky hit as they flailed in the dark. There was a large splinter from the makeshift weapon still embedded, she¡¯d leave it for someone who knew what they were doing. She picked up a scrap of canopy curtain to pull the wound closed and apply pressure, wincing.

    Bastian abandoned the bundled cord on the bedside table, and began stalking about the room for further evidence. His fingers brushed the window sill, feeling the chipped wood where something had been used to climb the window. Just outside, he fished in the hook and rope cached there. The innkeeper returned then, hovering in the doorway looking at the chaos in confusion.

    ¡°Can you send a man to the southside of town?¡± asked Bastian. ¡°Tell him to call for the Phoenix Company and a scout will spot him. There is a small force camped there, say Bastian sent for them and to get a contingent of men, armed. I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll try anything again tonight, but better to be safe.¡±

    The innkeep nodded, ¡°My daughter will go, there is a surgeon coming too, he knows to come straight up. I have to settle the other guests,¡± he then rushed off.

    Bastian busied himself then trying to right the room a little, righting the door against a wall, gathering up the splintered wood and kicking the curtains over the body so no one had to look at it any longer. The rope and hook he deposited with the garotte at the bedside, before finally flopping backwards into the bed besides his prince. Val remained standing hunched against the wall by the doorway and grimly watched her black blood begin to spot through the cloth around her forearm in the lantern light.

    ¡°This is new,¡± said Bastian from the bed, staring at the ceiling.

    Dorius was still distant. ¡°It¡¯s actually not the first,¡± admitted Val, sliding to the floor.

    Bastian sat up in confusion, looking between the two of them, ¡°Watcher!¡± he cursed, ¡°You mean you¡¯ve done this before?¡±

    Dorius seemed to break his spell then, unwrapping his legs to gently place them on the floor. ¡°It¡¯s happened twice before,¡± his voice was strained, ¡°After seeing family.¡±

    Bastian¡¯s mouth was agape, his expression horrified, ¡°And Hart knows?¡± he babbled out.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t get this close before,¡± replied Val, indirectly answering his question.

    The surgeon appeared at the doorway then in a clean white apron, the stable boy at his heels with a lantern. Val gestured him towards Dorius and giving quick instructions to the boy for clean cloth and water, he took the lantern and unfolded Dorius to examine his neck and hands. After a moment the surgeon declared that he would be fine, and Val lifted her arm to show him the growing wet black spots, to which he swore and admonished her for not getting his attention first. He beckoned her to a chair at the desk in the room, and began to unwrap her arm, keeping the pressure on with fresh bandages. Fresh water was brought to the room.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± asked Bastian finally, betrayal and hurt in his voice.

    ¡°Can we not¡­ here¡­¡± groaned Dorius, drawing the blanket around his shoulders and folding inward again. The surgeon began to clean, extracting the single long shard of wood, Val hissing slightly as it emerged and drew Dorius¡¯ eyes up to look around for the first time.

    ¡°You¡¯re hurt,¡± he gasped, finally processing some of the chaos and he followed the trails of her black blood splattered on walls and sheets in growing horror.

    ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it looks,¡± she mumbled back, ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She determinedly chose a spot on the floor to fix her gaze on as the surgeon set to work stitching up the gash.

    Bastian caught Dorius¡¯ eyes as he gazed around and held them, betrayal growing to anger just beneath the surface.

    ¡°We will talk tomorrow,¡± Bastian insisted hotly, his expression dark. Dorius nodded in resignation, remaining quiet. Bastian then rolled to his feet, and moved to hover over Val, although a little uncertain of how close to her he should be. He settled on kneeling by the bed, trying to find her gaze while she avoided looking at the stitches.

    ¡°Can I get you something?¡± he asked, gentler with her than he had been with Dorius.

    Val turned to look at him properly. Some of her long dark hair had come free from her braids that were usually wrapped around the base of her horns. It was almost to her waist and it spilled in front of her eyes when she moved, she tucked some of it behind a horn with her free hand.

    ¡°My jacket¡­ and my axe maybe¡­¡± she responded.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I could lift your axe,¡± admitted Bastian, but he dutifully rose to scout through her belongings for her jacket in the other room.

    Val turned to look at Dorius, ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we do something else, check outside maybe?¡± she asked.

    Dorius shook his head, his composure slowly coming back to him. ¡°If there were anyone else they are long gone.¡±

    Dorius finally got to his feet, and carefully untangled some of the bed canopy to look at the assassin. He studied them for a moment, then re-covered the body and came around to stand by Val. The surgeon was finishing up, snipping his thread with small scissors and packing away his needles. Dorius placed a hand on her shoulder, ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Val shrugged, "There¡¯s worse things you¡¯ve asked of me¡­¡±

    Bastian had returned and frowned at the statement. He watched Dorius remove his hand, and protectively placed Val¡¯s jacket over her in its place. ¡°You¡¯ve chipped a tusk,¡± he commented, glaring at Dorius as he pulled away to continued studying the chaos now, seeking to make sense of the encounter.

    Val lifted her free hand and traced a lower horn with her fingers, feeling a sliver of wood that the assassin¡¯s cludgel dislodged when he¡¯d swung at her face.

    ¡°It¡¯ll grow out,¡± she commented absently, picking the splinter free, ¡°it¡¯s horn by the way. Tusks grow from teeth.¡±

 2.1 Secrets

    Val groaned as raised voices roused her from her nap. Groggily, she raised a hand to shade the sun from her eyes and popped her head up to observe the commotion.

    ¡°I don¡¯t give a shit what you think. I think it¡¯s relevant!¡± yelled Bastian.

    Bastian was using the butt of his spear to hold the door of Dorius¡¯ gilded carriage open from his mount, riding next to it. Dorius, on the other hand, leaned out of the carriage in an attempt to pull the door shut, an out-of-season silk scarf wrapped around his neck. He slapped multiple times at the spear trying to dislodge it, but Bastian nimbly repositioned it each time, maintaining his upper hand.

    Val sighed, and tried to maneuver the canvas tent sacks she was using as a bed to better support her head and horns. Based on the position of the sun it was mid-afternoon, she had slept for several hours at least.

    She had been awake the entire previous night, even after they had several men positioned at the inn. In the morning they had met up with the entirety of their entourage, a near full squad of forty seven Phoenix Company men and women camped on the edge of town. In addition to Dorius¡¯ carriage there were another four wagons, each pulled by a pair of fell bulls carrying supplies, clothing, tents and other odds and ends for their multi week journey. Another two dozen fell beasts were acting as mounts or being shepherded along the back of the procession, while a handful of pied talon steeds and scout riders were positioned throughout the line, and likely more travelling ahead of the Company. The mercenaries milled about, casually exchanging conversation and were walking or riding wagons. The fell beast marched no faster than a gentle walk and set a leisurely pace. Blue uniforms were completely discarded, with the exception of the few that were guiding Dorius¡¯ carriage, most members instead wore at least the Company''s leather vest with shoulder sigil, but many were more relaxed and dressed to personal preferences. Dorius returned to his embroidered robes, but had none of the extravagant jewelry he had worn to the meeting with his uncle, with the exception of a few rings. Bastian had found time to shave, and was dressed primarily in the Company¡¯s mercenary leathers with a bright red undershirt.

    Val had the back of one of the wagons to herself, where she had collapsed to nap off the past few days once they had cleared Ashtowne. Three mercenaries sat at the front of her wagon, including Hart, likely keeping guard over her while she rested.

    ¡°This is not the place for this discussion,¡± returned Dorius curtly.

    ¡°When is!?¡± snapped Bastian in response, determined to have his fight, ¡°When you¡¯ve had time to work out a more convenient version of the truth?¡±

    ¡°When there isn¡¯t an audience!¡± hissed Dorius, gesturing around them.

    ¡°Servants beneath your dignity when it suits you then!¡± taunted Bastian.

    Dorius kneaded his forehead with his fingers, ¡°I didn¡¯t say¡­¡±

    ¡°Paid mercs who should know their place!¡±

    ¡°Wha-¡±

    ¡°Little prince who thinks he¡¯s so cunning, keeping his little secrets. You think they don''t know what happened?¡± sneered Bastian.

    Dorius snapped his mouth shut, brow furrowed as he drew sharply back into the carriage, ¡°You want a night in a cell when we get back?¡± he threatened.

    ¡°Coward!¡± came Bastian¡¯s defiant response, but he did withdraw his spear.

    ¡°Fuck off.¡±

    The carriage door shut with a thud.

    The awkward silence took several minutes to dissipate as mercenaries slowly returned to their own conversations.

    Val stared at the sky, watching the clouds for a moment. She idly fingered the chip on her horn lost in thought, then resigned herself to forfeiting her fleeting moment of privacy.

    She sat up and, legs tucked to one side, leaned on the side of the wagon. She still wore her leather jacket and blood stained shirt from the night before, her arm was lightly bandaged to keep the stitches clean.

    Hart turned slightly from his seat to acknowledge she was up, and passed her a flask of water. She gladly took it and drank till she drained it.

    ¡°Hungry?¡± he asked.

    Val shook her head, and let one arm hang over the edge of the wagon, enjoying not being on duty for the first time in days. There was something peaceful being on the road again, with open skies and singing birds. Man-made places never felt quite natural to her, beds were too small, ceilings too low. Open places suited her better.

    ¡°I could use a change of clothes though,¡± she offered after a moment of contemplation. Looking down the line to identify the wagon that had their personal trunks. She stood, balanced herself a moment, and stepped gingerly over the packed tents to reach the end of the wagon and hop down. The bulls were slow marchers, and she easily outpaced them at a light jog. The mercenaries as she passed gave her curt nods of acknowledgement in deference to her rank. She made her way to the wagon she was looking for and vaulted herself up to the back of the wagon without needing it to stop.

    Bastian spotted her and bought his mount up behind the wagon as she shuffled through the boxes. His beast was a familiar cow with a white and pink patch on her nose, an unusual feature on their solid brown-grey hides.

    ¡°You have fun?¡± Val asked, she didn¡¯t look at him as she found her box and restacked things to pull it clear.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± he sniped in return, folding his arms. His spear and bow were both strapped on his mount''s saddle, a quiver hanging in easy reach. He had his lighter bow with him, suited for shooting mounted, although she suspected his preferred heavier war bow was somewhere with their equipment.

    Val turned with her trunk and sat it on her lap off the back of the wagon, legs hanging down, and leaned on the box with her head in her hands. Bastian was flush red with anger, his golden eyes dark beneath furrowed brows.

    ¡°You¡¯re angry,¡± conceded Val.

    ¡°No shit.¡± He then seemed to soften for a moment, ¡°Not at you.¡± His cow ambled unblinking, mindlessly following the wagon without prompting from her rider.

    Val watched him from her hands for a moment longer, then sat up to pop the trunk open and unfold a clean flaxen shirt and fresh socks. Putting the trunk aside, she began to unlace her boots.

    ¡°I kept it secret too,¡± she admitted.

    ¡°You know what I mean. What would happen if you had said something?¡± he challenged.

    Val stripped off her old socks and stretched her toes in the sun, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡±

    Bastian raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Not cells at least,¡± she admitted.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    He was right though. Her relationship with Dorius was¡­ delicate. It had been easier as children, when there were no titles or responsibilities to one another, but their friendship had changed in the past several years as he began to navigate his birthright.

    When the need for his protection was first broached, Val had been the obvious choice. Her combat experience was extensive, she had been a regular on Company contracts expecting messy work from her young teens when she had already reached the strength and size of a grown man. Her flashy horns and unforgettable appearance was the perfect fit for the image Dorius consciously set out to create. Their friendship was just the final puzzle piece, a strong foundation for the unquestionable trust they had with each other, necessary to navigate the complex knife edge Dorius set out to walk.

    The role he had wanted her to fill - silent, brutish oaf - had come easy as a second skin. It was already what people expected when they saw her, her tentative shyness meant she rarely gave them anything else, and so she wore it the same as armor when she prepared for any other Company work. Only those who knew her before her early teens knew someone different. She had appeared almost like any other child then, a little chunkier, but not a bad thing for the rough and tumble children who grew up in the mercenary band, and the chin horns had only been odd little stumps at the time, passable as any other Fae¡¯s irregularity. It was only as puberty hit in her early teens that the differences had become stark, she¡¯d put on height and muscles faster than any boy and the upper horns grew in from nothing as a brutal crown. Physical differences, a shift in perception from others, teen awkwardness, and unforgiving conditioning on the road and in combat, had tucked away the little girl - and so the skin fit when it was asked as an act, and it had grown comfortable since.

    Through time the balance of power in their friendship had shifted to Dorius inch by inch, she had slowly tucked more and more away, giving herself to his cause unconsciously. She saw all of his failures and miss-steps as often as his successes, there was almost nothing they didn¡¯t share. And the weight of the burden had grown. She had imperceptibly become so entangled in him that by the time she could identify it, it was too late for her to withdraw herself had she wanted to. Dorius would have no one else fill her shoes, and he was self-conscious enough that his small gestures of thanks and concern - genuine reflections of their underlying friendship - wracked her with enough guilt that leaving his side was not an option for her, even had she somewhere to go that would not have put her solely to bloody work.

    Sharing any of their partnership, even with Bastian, would have been a betrayal. And they both knew it.

    At least the burden of this secret could be eased now. Bastian was one of the few people she felt at ease with, and she envied his quick emotions and easy confidence - such a stark contrast to her own hesitancy. It helped that he had been the third member of their trio as kids, knowing her before she had the horns.

    ¡°The first time I¡¯m not even sure it was meant for him,¡± she offered in explanation, unbidden, pulling on the clean socks. The simple pleasure of clean fabric cleansed her of myriad tensions from the previous days, and she swung her feet, childlike, from the wagon. ¡°There had been a last minute rearranging of the apartments in the capital, it honestly could have been for any of the family. A servant was caught adding something to the wine, everyone pointed fingers for a day or so, you know, no one owned up to anything.¡±

    ¡°The Ivory didn¡¯t investigate?¡± asked Bastian.

    Val shrugged, ¡°Oh they did, in their own way. You¡¯ve not seen how that family is. Seemed more like business as usual, on the surface. We didn¡¯t have the means to discreetly investigate any further than what was public, Dorius was so new to it then.¡±

    ¡°The second time was odder still,¡± she continued, ¡°A fight broke out in the commons of some eating house we were at, spilled into the back rooms. I ended up beating half of them into a pulp before the guard showed up. When they started packing them all off to sober up in the cells overnight, one was dead - killed himself like the guy last night with a hollow tooth full of poison.¡±

    She stripped her jacket off as she spoke, inspecting the blood staining on her shirt underneath and making a face when she realized how much she stunk. There were a few dark streaks on the linen, smeared on when she had grabbed it before the surgeon had cleaned her up, but it was still likely ruined. Her blood didn¡¯t wash out easily. ¡°So¡­ it was just complicated, prior to last night I would not have given either event much thought¡± she concluded.

    The corner of Bastian¡¯s mouth twitched, ¡°Don¡¯t defend the bastard.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ or well, it¡¯s my job,¡± she stumbled over her words, ¡°I might have done the same thing, if it were me,¡± was what she settled on, feeling guilty.

    ¡°Did Elias know?¡± he asked.

    Val shook her head, and began to unlace her shirt, ¡°He was there for the first, the second I don¡¯t think Dorius told him. It just seemed odd at the time.¡± She pulled the shirt fully off over her horns, leaving only her breast wrap on, and tossed it to her side. Feeling lighter, she stretched her arms overhead in the sun, shoulder and back muscles rippling. She was lean for her size, every angle of her musculature was prominent and in places oddly proportioned compared to a human. Even if one could match her height, she was typically bulkier, especially her neck and shoulders from the added weight of her horns. She felt closer physically to one of the fell bulls pulling the wagons than humans some days.

    Bastian studied her for only a moment, his expression unreadable to her - despite wearing his emotions on his sleeve, he was also highly adept at hiding his thoughts when he wanted. Likely, he was processing the news more logically now, considering the implications for their safety and maneuvering, especially the grim news of the shared cause of death that spoke to pattern. Then he turned his head to suddenly take interest in something in the forest while she stretched. Val shook out the clean shirt and negotiated threading her horns through it, Bastian turning back to continue the conversation when she was mostly covered again.

    ¡°Dorius has not been as adept as he thought,¡± he finally mused, the mystery beginning to distract him from his tension. Val nodded. ¡°Which of his cousins could he pose such a threat to though? Or who would be well resourced enough to see something the others don¡¯t?¡± he wondered to her.

    Val tilted her head in consideration of all she had observed through the years at Dorius side, then held up three fingers. ¡°Synthias and Matthias are the obvious options. The power they hold would make them the boldest but they are both sophisticated, this seems beneath them. Sylus, I think, would have the strongest motivations. He and Dorius are alike, both relatively distant from the crown, both drawn to schemes. He may view Dorius¡¯ gradual return to the family as some kind of threat. He¡¯s also better at it than Dorius, he¡¯s had more practice at least.¡±

    Bastian¡¯s anger seemed to linger still, but the target he really wanted to fight with had withdrawn itself, so it mostly ebbed away now. His tempers never lasted long, and were usually taken in good humor. People just liked Bastian. The other mercenaries flocked to his side to drink or play cards or sing dirty ballads while they travelled. His smooth charm often had him fill roles for the Company interacting directly with clients, and he had picked up the graces and mannerisms to navigate between social ranks easily.

    Dorius had put him to work, just as much as Val. Not all situations called for raw muscle. Charming smiles, easy conversation, a handsome face, all opened doors or distracted as needed. Again, their childhood friendship had built the foundation for those Dorius pulled into his inner circle, he had needed retainers he could trust more than anything. But, it was still different than with her and Dorius. Val was well aware that while the three of them had been close companions as children, Bastian likely felt it was he who was being left behind now.

    Boots laced again, she dropped off the wagon to walk at Bastian¡¯s side. He smirked and grabbed one of her horns from saddleback, and she let him jostle her about with it one handed. She blushed slightly, and swatted him away. He was the only person who casually touched her horns, in part because he was usually the only person tall enough to reach them.

    When they were children and she only had the two behind her jawline, they had been just as thick as they were now, but much shorter and blunt. They told her they found her on a contract protecting a village from wild Fae raids. Normally, Fae had no language, hunting in wolf-like packs on the edges of civilization. Odd mixes of humanoid and beast, with scales and horns, feathers and fur - said to be remnants of lost magics that had once let users change shape at will.

    She had been left behind by the pack when they cleared them out of their encampment on the edge of the rocky desert plateaus to the far south, a toddler screaming and crying enough human-sounding words that Dorius¡¯ father had refused to let them kill her. Fae-touched, the name given to those with the capability of language, were sometimes born to human parents - just as children were sometimes born with eyes or skin tones unlike their parents, but remnant from a distant great grandparent. It was assumed some of the old magic had lingered just enough to express in these rare children. Often their distinctions were subtle mutations - shortened limbs, scales in a few patches on the elbow and knees, slight webbing to the fingers.

    More rarely, and often as the product of abduction and rape by both human and Fae alike, half breeds with one wild parent were born. They often inherited just enough humanity for socializing young, if fate meant they were raised as such, but significantly more of the wild traits and its odd enhancements - thus was Val assumed to be. The benefits of her exact mix and its usefulness to a band of mercenaries had obviously not been known at the time though. It was Dorius¡¯ uncle on his father¡¯s side, Hart - who seemed to be forever picking up after his brother¡¯s messes - who had filled the role of parent for her and Dorius¡¯ mother who had named her Valina, before her passing.

    Val stretched overhead again, her load considerably lightened now it was shared. There was several weeks march till Southold. To make the most of the day, there would likely be no breaks from dawn till dusk, but they did not expect any interruption or danger. These highways were commonly travelled. In the warm summer nights it was unlikely they would even pitch tents for most of the Company, to facilitate rapid progress each morning.

    In somewhat good fortune for her, it was unlikely that Dorius would leave his brooding, at least for today, she was a good judge of his mood. She would be called to wait upon him once he¡¯d settled again, likely to use her as a shield against Bastian. She didn¡¯t overly mind, staying busy at his side was an easy excuse to keep her distance from the rest of the mercenaries. Till then, she might enjoy some time to herself.

 2.2 Southold

    Southold was perched in the crook of the wide gentle flow of the Artifar River, rolling hills on either bank dotted with homes, farms and grape vines. In the warm summer heat laborers gently tended the ripening grapes, carefully pruning the leaf cover to manage the sunlight on the delicate clusters - wine was one of the backbones of Southold¡¯s burgeoning trade. Apiaries dotted the hillside, buzzing between the small yellow flowers of the cover crops planted between the manicured rows of vines.

    Val rapped once on the window of Dorius¡¯ carriage, letting him know they were in view, having hung from her footboard for the past few hours of the trip. Only the largest fell bulls were up for carrying her weight, so she chose to not burden them and usually hung off the carriage or travelled by foot.

    He knocked back, indicating a command to open the window, which she obediently followed.

    The carriage inside was a mess, documents half scattered on the benches and a trunk spilling open with his dress clothes adding to the mess. Dorius had several maps and a journal in his lap, and she skimmed them just fast enough to notice the content appeared to be focused around the Spine. He sulked for most of their travel home within his carriage, partially avoiding Bastian, but likely also still a little shaken. He still wore a scarf around his neck, so Val could not tell how well the red marks had healed.

    Dorius ran his long fingers through his hair, obviously frustrated with whatever he was turning in his head, ¡°Get Elias to stop by the Vigil house and ask them if they¡¯d be willing to share any records on the Chapel in the Spine. If they tell him no, I¡¯m just as interested in how they say no.¡±

    Val nodded, and passed the message along to a scout on talon steed, Elias was further up the line chatting to Davern on one of the wagons. As they passed into town, the majority of the procession began to separate. The Company was headquartered out of the western edge of the town, a now sprawling complex of staging yards, bunk houses, stables and administrative quarters that served as the hub for the over four hundred active members. Many of this crew would be keen to receive their pay, return to families and begin to organize themselves for their next work. Only a small portion of the Company, including Val and Bastian, were in Dorius¡¯ permanent employ. A permanent retainer was within his means to support these days, but the Company offered him a flexibility he seemed to favor even without the relationship on his father¡¯s side.

    Val watched with idle curiosity as the carriage continued through town, hanging one handed backwards and crouched on her footboard. The town was busy with laborers pulling hand carts of goods on the thoroughfare. Merchants had small shop fronts, but the majority of Southold¡¯s trade was not sold within the town, so few had anything more than samples on display. Instead the town specialized as a trade hub to the Free States to the south beyond the Pentarchies'' borders. Warehouses instead made up a significant portion of the town''s infrastructure, acting as storage and exchange as goods passed in and out of the town, each marked with a letter and number system that allowed systematic coordination by the Merchant Guild and its analysts.

    Speaking of, they passed the Guide House next, on the inner edge of the trade district, with its wide open verandahs and shade cloths. Southold¡¯s warm summers and mild winters lent the town to an open architecture, the outsides used preferentially to the inside. Desks and giant notice boards were arranged in the open verandah, workers shuffling wooden boards on and off pegs to mark the status of goods or rearrange the planned contents of a caravan. The Guild Steward, a tiny woman Val recognized immediately, was vibrantly yelling over the edge of one balcony to someone below, fanning herself absently while a handmaid appeared to chastise her from the side. Her belly was swollen with the late stages of pregnancy, Val was honestly surprised she was still on her feet.

    Soon the carriage was past the commotion into residential districts, and continued on over the larger of the two stone bridges that crossed the Artifar. Dorius¡¯ estate was on the southern edge where the town just extended to the second bank, a slightly more private side of the town.

    The estate buzzed with activity as they arrived, the great front court had teams of men and women, some dressed in blue and some in Company leather, carrying goods to the great house or preparing the stables for the arriving beasts. All made way for the gilded carriage to pull in but quickly flocked close as it came to a halt, beginning to unstrap the tired bulls and replace the duties of those exhausted with travel. Val stepped down from her footboard, and nodded in greeting to two figures who rushed down the steps to meet the carriage. The smaller was a woman, almost identical in all manner except for the belly to the Guild Steward, a tiny darker skinned woman with an impressive headdress of braids. At first glance, it appears she had feathers in her collar to complement the look, but the black glossy feathers in fact sprouted from the skin around her neck. She was dressed in the elegant slate blue of Dorius¡¯ house, with his gold four-horned dragon sigil proudly on her breast. The second was a tall hunched man, dressed in well used robes with sleeves stained with old ink, a Company badge pinned haphazard to one shoulder. Elias came galloping in behind the procession, sharing a saddle behind a scout on talon steed with a single heavy tome under one arm. The scout dutifully brought him straight to the front and several servants rushed forward to help him down, the scout nimbly steading his ruffled stead as people rushed about it. The woman approached Elias and offered to take the tome while he quickly dusted off his robes as best he could, and he fell in line with the welcoming party.

    Val barely had time to put her hand on the carriage door, and Dorius came spilling out all on his own, waving a handful of documents at Elias the moment he caught his eye. Immediately the greeting company swept up behind him as he marched into the house, his thoughts on Vigil houses still buzzing from what she overhead. Val remained at her post for a moment watching them go, sensing rather than seeing Bastian slowly coming to her side. She sighed, retrieved her axe from the carriage roof and joined Bastian to begin the walk around to the side entrances, it was likely Dorius would be too distracted for the next several hours to wonder much about where they got to, giving them the opportunity to change and clean from weeks on the road. They both enjoyed the liberty of their own private rooms in his estate, and Bastian was already complaining aloud to her about how much he was looking forward to a clean pair of boots.

    ¡ª

    The sun was just starting to set when Val let herself into the study. The sliding door screens on one side of the room were completely open to the balcony, letting a gentle breeze blow in from the river side of the estate. A handmaid moved through the room beginning to prepare it for the to evening and laying out candles in anticipation of work into the night.

    Dorius was standing over the center table, maps spread as if he prepared for a military campaign, finger pointed at a spot that marked a landmark or city in mid-discussion. Elias sat at the edge of his seat to one side, staff delicately balanced nearby, and Anette, Dorius¡¯ seneschal and the women from earlier, hovered close at hand, sorting a pile of ledgers and half watching her prince. The thin, hunched man with the Company sigil, Strand, was at the opposite end of the table, consulting notes and placing brightly colored stones on the map as he worked. Bastian had arrived before her, and was sitting on his own in the lounge closer to the window, listening and idly splitting and cleaning a basket of talon steed feathers for arrows. He raised a hand to acknowledge her joining them, and returned to his work. Val found a comfortable position to lean that seemed out of the handmaid''s way and turned an eye towards the map. Her eyes lingered on the familiar mask and bundled garotte at one edge of the table. They were placed on folded fabric which appeared to be the assassin¡¯s clothes.

    ¡°So, we¡¯ve had no goods originating from the east through the warehouses in months, and our onward trade in that direction has slowed,¡± explained Dorius, gesturing in a wide arch to the eastern edge of the fourth Pentarchies borders, south of the Spine, ¡°Despite our slow trade, we know the larger mercenaries out of the Capital have been doing unusually good business and have been actively recruiting from other companies.¡± It was obvious she was walking in on the concluding moments of discussion that had started well before her arrival. He traced a line back towards the capital from the border with his finger. ¡°Thus we assume that they are funneling resources through the capital from the north where the reds hold their power. Movement east would be mostly on the Pentarch¡¯s lands.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°We had previously assumed that the lack of luxury trade each way was a sign of scarcity east, but resource accumulation in anticipation of military action would also impact us similarly,¡± added Elias.

    Strand cleared his throat and moved several of the stones from the capital region to the eastern border, with a gravelly voice he announced ¡°the recruitment from the Capital speaks to larger contracts than just protecting increased convoys, let¡¯s also assume they are anticipating work providing reinforcement to the east as well.¡±

    ¡°What trade we do have still going east is mostly food, dried or preserved,¡± confirmed Anette, who had finally found the ledger to back up their previous speculation, she added the tables of numbers to the map for all to see.

    ¡°So,¡± Dorius¡¯ eyes gleamed as returned his finger to point to the Spine, ¡°the Spine offers no military advantage. But, the mountains are a natural northern edge of any eastern front and the Free Mountain State as a religious state would likely remain neutral. It does offer an interesting position for controlling the shortest passage of information to the First and Fifth Pentarchy. It could be a stalling point for the message of a disturbed peace reaching them, but is just too far out of reach for direct supervision from either the Capital or a potential eastern front.¡±

    ¡°Thus important for delaying a second front opening if they choose to honor the old pacts,¡± added Elias, ¡°but it would be a delay at best. If military inquest into the Second Pentarchy was planned we¡¯d see more change in the trade habits north, preparing for a front there.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Dorius grinned, ¡°there is no northern front anticipated then.¡±

    Elias frowned, not quite following the Prince¡¯s train of thought. ¡°You think the aggression is planned to come outwards from the second then? Then why the secrecy? Invoking the old pacts would be in the Fourth¡¯s interest then, along with expedited arrival from the other Pentarchs.¡±

    Dorius stared intently at the map, but did not have an answer, ¡°That¡¯s our mystery then¡­¡±

    Anette laid down the ledgers she had been reviewing, ¡°You mentioned we predict the Spine to be neutral in any conflict?¡± she asked. Her glossy black feathers lay flat around her collar.

    Dorius looked up from the map for the first time and spotted Val had joined them, ¡°Val, pass the Chapel records, there.¡±

    Val did as bid and picked up the large tome on her side of the table, the book Elias had been instructed to retrieve during their arrival. Dorius opened it to a page he had marked with a scrap of paper, it appeared to list names and dates. He pointed at the final entry, letting Elias inspect it.

    ¡°The Spine is likely the only place in the continent that regularly engages in diplomacy with all five arms of the Pentarchy. As a religious state, it is likely they would never side with any individual Pentarch. If there is something brewing, a withdrawal would be an obvious choice to avoid conflict,¡± responded Elias to Anette as he read the page of the tome.

    ¡°Notice anything?¡± asked Dorius, turning to find a chair and settle into it.

    Elias raised an eyebrow, ¡°This record claims the current Prime Vigilant has served for over four hundred years.¡±

    Dorius nodded, ¡°I grew curious when every document I could find mentioned the same name. You think it¡¯s real?¡±

    Elias rubbed his chin, and turned a few pages back to read some other parts of the text, ¡°The likely explanation is that each successor just takes up the name of the previous and their own records make no differentiation, it gives the Vigil¡¯s capital an appearance of mystique¡­¡± he paused, ¡°and yet, I have heard odd things about the Spine.¡±

    ¡°They say the old magic lingers there Sir,¡± offered Anette, ¡°Merchants return, speaking of an uncommon number of Fae walking the streets. Outsiders are not allowed into the mountains past the city. The Chapel claims the land is sacred, forbidden to all not invited.¡±

    Val grew curious at the mention of Fae and magic, standing a little straighter from her position to the side of the table.

    ¡°They say,¡± said Bastian from the sitting area, drawing a feather out of his mouth to speak clearer as all parties turned to him, ¡°Old Gods still walk the Spine. The bards sing songs about shapeshifters and flying horses.¡±

    ¡°Bards tell stories,¡± chided Elias.

    Bastian put down his pocket knife, ¡°And most bards train at Vigil run colleges.¡± His statement implied he agreed with Elias¡¯ skepticism, but his eyes had a glint of childish glee.

    ¡°The magic bards tell of is likely exaggerated,¡± declared Strand, ¡°What remains, well¡­ I¡¯m sure it is in the Vigilants¡¯ best interests to keep it secret to bolster their own waning relevance.¡± The man did not mince words.

    Val looked at her feet, nervous Bastian or Dorius would look her way and suddenly draw attention at her. Fortunately, Dorius seemed to move the conversation onwards, ¡°It will be another mystery we can investigate, we will likely begin our efforts with the Prime Vigilant regardless. Elias arranged the dispatch of three Company men north while we were still at the Palace, they will likely already be making contact with mercenaries operating in the region to begin learning what they can in anticipation of arrival.¡±

    Val looked up again, and glanced at Bastian. He was busy with his feathers again, carefully turning one in his hands he seemed unsatisfied with the shape of. She looked down again before she might catch his eye.

    The handmaid returned at that moment, bringing a tray with dried figs, dates and imported soft cheeses drizzled with honey, as well as steaming fresh bread. A second servant followed her with a carafe of dark red wine, and several crystal cups. They arranged them to one side of the room while Dorius and Elias struck up a discussion focused on logistics for the next few days, Strand and Anette carefully following and offering their own knowledge as requested or making notes for their own follow up.

    Val took a small plate and selected a couple of dates as well as preparing some bread with cheese and honey spread on it. She offered the first plate to Dorius, leaving it on the edge of his map at his side. She then felt free to serve herself and chose to join Bastian now that the conversation at the table seemed to be mostly tending towards planning. She placed the plate between them and sat, and Bastian moved his basket of feathers to the side to make room for it.

    ¡°Think we¡¯ll get more than a few days'' break?¡± she asked him, picking up one of the dates and carefully tearing it open to remove the pip. Bastian had moved on to cleaning the edges of his feathers with a pocket knife, using his hand to measure the shape as he worked.

    ¡°Ha, no,¡± he responded, ¡°Look at him. Our boy loves a good puzzle, he¡¯ll be on the road as fast as Anette can manage it.¡± He looked down the length of the feather he was working on, deemed it passable, and added it to a growing pile. As he picked up the next one, and seemed to pause in thought for a moment, ¡°Why? You have business?¡± he asked.

    Val shrugged, ¡°Not really.¡±

    ¡°You want to come out to the tavern after this?¡±

    Val hesitated, then gave Dorius a quick glance. Bastian tsk¡¯d and blithely waved his knife in a gesture about the room, ¡°I doubt there is anywhere safer than his own estate, he¡¯ll not miss you for a few hours.¡± Val¡¯s expression did not soften. ¡°Suit yourself then, join us later if you can,¡± he settled on offering.

 2.3 Uncertainty and Bravado

    Later, as the candles grew low, just Val and Dorius remained. Val leaned on the verandah balustrade, enjoying the cool air and watching the town slowly grow dark as lanterns and candles were extinguished. Somewhere a raucous chorus could be heard from a tavern, the voices drifting in the still night. Dorius still worked within, books strewn about his ¡®war map¡¯ and the colored stones from earlier scattered from the careful positions Strand had placed them all in.

    The handmaid let herself in, fresh candles in her hands, preparing to turn the room over for continued study. Dorius held up a hand to indicate there was no need, and dismissed her. With a great sigh he closed the book he was reading and rose to come stand by Val. His golden skin had paled slightly of late, sulking in the carriage for the past weeks, but it seemed as if the warm southern climate and fresh air was already returning his glow to him. With another sigh, he slumped onto the balustrade just as Val pulled herself more upright, stepping back a half step in deference. If he noticed the subtle distinction of their rank it did not bother him, and he leaned on one hand staring into the night. A scarf was still lightly wrapped around his neck, but it hung loose and Val saw no remnants of red marks. Likely the fashion choice was lingering nerves then.

    ¡°I¡¯m still not sure why my Uncle would choose to involve me in this, all signs point to something significant occurring on the eastern border and I get the impression my cousins would never involve me if they had their way,¡± he wondered.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t you he chose, it was Elias,¡± reminded Val. Dorius seemed to chew on the thought a moment. Val, sensing a turn to melancholy after an afternoon of activity, turned to find the carafe that had been bought in with dinner. She gave it a swirl, the wine within had been mixed with fruit juice and water to lighten it for summer drinking. She frowned at the temperature, yet poured him a cup and bought it for him anyway. Dorius turned, leaning backwards against the railing, and accepted it with both hands but did not immediately drink.

    ¡°Elias has served your family his entire life, and I gather was cunning in his youth. If whatever waits to the east is bothering the Pentarch so much, it might be that he was desperate to find anyone loyal to the family for an adjacent task,¡± she reassured.

    Dorius stared into his cup, ¡°It might count as a victory, to be bought into the family circle. If under the guise of Elias, so be it.¡±

    Val frowned, then gave voice to the uncertainty they both shared, ¡°Yet, I agree that it is a flimsy cover at best. I do not think you are as subtle as you think,¡± she offered in warning. ¡°For those looking your actions speak too loudly. They can plainly see you find unusual and capable assistants, fools do not. And while you mask your estate¡¯s wealth, any cousin could spend an afternoon at a Merchant Guild and likely spot the growing influence of Southold''s trade in their ledgers. Other evidence¡­ may indicate that you are not as well hidden as you might think.¡±

    Dorius¡¯ face did not change, but a nervous hand raised to his neck so long fingers could play with the scarf. Finally, Val figured honesty would reach him easiest, and she added, ¡°I am shaken too. I¡¯m not sure I am enough to keep you safe.¡±

    Dorius looked up at her on that comment, his mouth was firm and he took a draught from his cup finally. It seemed he had other thoughts as well, ¡°I am not sure what comes after this.¡±

    Val cocked her head slightly, indicating she was listening to him, but turned to find the carafe to keep his cup full.

    ¡°For years my focus has been regaining what faded when my mother passed with an assumption I would always be an outsider. Having no blood-line women left in our branch guarantees that fate,¡± he mused, more to himself than Val, ¡°If this is a test, I do not know what my goals are after passing. I maintain the Pentarchy is an outdated institution, they are nothing but self-crowned figureheads clinging to a legacy of ¡®old blood lines¡¯ and faint memories of the Monarchy from before the unrest, the Guild¡¯s do the real work of the nation. And yet¡­ I do not know if I would still be able to feel the same if I were within?¡±

    ¡°And what if they were breaking the peace,¡± asked Val, referencing the speculation from earlier.

    Dorius took another drink, Val skillfully filling his cup. ¡°The peace is the only good the Pentarchy does,¡± he declared and drained the rest. Indicating he was done for the night he placed the cup on the railing and folded his hands within his robes. A lighter mood seemed to catch him now, he tilted his head up to Val.

    ¡°You are not joining your fellows, spending your hard earned pay on revelry?¡± he asked, a twitch of mockery in the corner of his mouth.

    Val fixed him with a scathing stare, and gently put the carafe down. ¡°I would rather not spoil the fun.¡± She often felt that more people left than stayed when she joined the mercenaries in social activities, and subtlety was something she was entirely incapable of.

    ¡°Ah, but if I went you¡¯d have to go.¡±

    Val did not like where this was leading.

    ¡ª

    The tavern bustled with bodies, men and women packed within laughing, singing and generally enjoying the night. Two bards had the mood worked high and cheery.

    Val led Dorius to the bar, using her body to clear him a path. The townsfolk knew the implications of her presence instantly, and most cleared willingly, but drink and conversation meant many were slower than she would have preferred. Dorius followed with his cap on, eagerly glancing around the room in search of Bastian.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Val from her higher vantage point spotted him first, gathered in a corner cheering on an arm wrestling competition that had struck up. She pointed for Dorius, but kept him close while she obtained their drinks. Mead was the usual choice in Southold at this style of establishment, the wine typically reserved for export.

    Two dark bottles in hand, she gestured to Dorius she was ready for him to join Bastian and his companions.

    The Company men cleared Dorius some space as they joined, securing him a position against the wall where multiple bodies would be available as shields if anything broke out elsewhere in the bar. Southold was generally peaceful, but it didn¡¯t stop late night fights breaking out as men got deep into their cups. They gave Val a few nods as she positioned herself over Dorius, leaning against the wall, but did little else to welcome her.

    ¡°Who¡¯s winning?¡± asked Dorius, gesturing for a few of the men who had moved to retake their seats. There was a cheer from those who hadn¡¯t noticed his arrival as the latest competitors finished their bout. He waved to grab Bastian¡¯s attention as well. Bastian clapped a hand on the shoulder of the mercenary he was talking with, and appeared to break off to come join them.

    ¡°Sir, Big Yan has a bet going that no one can match him, he¡¯s 12 - 0 so far,¡± excitedly explained one of the younger men as Bastian squeezed close to sit.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t bring me a bottle?¡± Bastian asked as Dorius drank from his. Val offered him hers from her silent stance, but he waved it back.

    ¡°What are the terms of Big Yan¡¯s wager?¡± asked Dorius.

    ¡°There is a pot going for everyone that steps up, first man to beat him gets the lot, otherwise if he lasts the night it¡¯s his to take home,¡± explained the young man again.

    ¡°We¡¯re hoping he¡¯ll cover our drinks from it at least,¡± added Bastian. There had obviously been a few too many drinks going around, Val was slightly uncomfortable at how familiar the young man was, or how close the mercenaries were sitting to Dorius. Dorius however, seemed to enjoy the lowered inhibitions and physically close company, it was rare he got to feel like a peer these days. She folded her arms, bottle hanging from two fingers, and gazed off into the crowd.

    There was another cheer, and the man who must¡¯ve been Big Yan surged to his feet, thumping his chest in victory. He planted one leg on a barrel serving as a chair and bellowed a challenge to the room. Bastian cheered with the crowd, slapping the back of the young man in encouragement for him to give it a go.

    ¡°No, I¡¯ve spent my money for the night,¡± laughed the boy in return, but he gave his arm a flex to try and show off his youthful muscles.

    Dorius grinned, ¡°I¡¯ll pay for your ante, as long as you agree to cover Bastian¡¯s drink from the winnings?¡±

    The boy blanched, ¡°No Sir, Prince. Big Yan¡¯d crush me.¡±

    Bastian rocked on his chair and gave him a final good-natured slap on the back. Several other men joining in on the fun jostled the boy around who blushed at the attention.

    Several patrons bought Big Yan a tankard of mead as he continued his victory lap, cajoling the crowd for more contestants. He downed the tankard, spilling it partially on his front, and belched loudly to laughter from onlookers. Enjoying his spotlight, he made his way to Dorius¡¯ table.

    ¡°You, Prince!¡± he called, fat finger pointed from across the table, ¡°Challenge the Big Yan?!¡±

    Val tensed. Bastian¡¯s laughter ceased, his grin remained but the edges of his jaw were a little tight. Dorius instead gave the man a look up and down, taking in his sweat and mead soaked clothes.

    ¡°Big Yan, I¡¯m too easy a mark for you,¡± returned Dorius cheerily, taking a sip from his bottle, ¡°Find a more worthy opponent.¡±

    Big Yan thumped his chest in bravado again, his biceps were like hams. ¡°None are a worthy opponent for Big Yan,¡± he declared. Then the drink gave him confidence a little too far, ¡°What about your brute?¡± he challenged.

    Val¡¯s eyes flashed, Big Yan lived up to his name but her strength was unnatural. ¡°She¡¯d break your arm,¡± burst out Bastian, his brows rising in incredulity the man would even suggest it.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯d like my arm broken!¡± Big Yan slapped his thigh and laughed with one of his companions. The more sober members of the crowd shifted glances between each other. ¡°Although, I¡¯d admit I¡¯d enjoy it more to be thrown around in the bedroom. Bet men who vanquish that prey make some fun memories!¡±

    Val desperately willed her face to not react. She could not slink into shadow like she so desperately wanted, stuck standing guard over Dorius. Instead she hoped the uneven lighting of the tavern would hide her red face.

    ¡°Bet you don¡¯t get many men bigger than you dal¡¯, let¡¯s see if you match your reputation,¡± egged on Big Yan. He seemed to make a move as if to begin climbing through the crowd to get to her then. Bastian stood, his grin still in place, but began gesturing to a few of the more sober faces in the crowd.

    ¡°Friend, we are more likely to find your next victim from the drunks who haul wagons in the trade district,¡± Bastian soothed, stepping out of the table to coordinate a few fellows to gather around the boisterous giant and his companions. ¡°Let¡¯s get your winnings before you get too sloshed to remember it! Must be more than a day''s pay there Big Yan.¡±

    The gentle stream of compliments from Bastian, and a few of the older men in support, seemed to get Big Yan turned about. Dorius sat mostly amused at the exchange, sipping his bottle. The young man took the opportunity to begin regaling them with descriptions of the earlier bouts, including a particularly exciting one that still ended in Big Yan¡¯s favor despite a member of the crowd stumbling into them and knocking him.

    After a moment Bastian returned, Big Yan had been safely escorted to the back of the tavern, and slumped into a seat next to them again. He spared Val a glance, and she offered him her bottle again. This time he took it. A quick sip seemed to return some strength and his grin, before joining the conversation again to embellish the young man¡¯s tale with some added color. He passed the bottle back to her.

 3.1 Gate

    Val grumbled bitterly as she prepared the wagon alone, yet again. Normally she had a lot of patience for Dorius, but a buzzing had begun growing in the back of her head the last few days, and it stretched her nerves thinner than usual. The bulls were both unyoked, grazing to the side where she¡¯d dropped the feedbox for them on the ground with the morning''s allocation of grain for their feed. Bracing the yoke on her shoulders, she shook out the straps to get them straight.

    Bastian and Dorius argued over the remnants of their camp from the previous night, they¡¯d passed from the stretch of the highways that had regular rest stops several days back, and were now on the final stretch north towards the Spine. The mountains were visible on the horizon, which likely put them at about a week out. Their travel north, as well as the passing into late summer, meant the chill from the night air still lingered.

    Bastian was goading Dorius into a dispute about his latest and favorite topic, the decision to travel north ahead of the escort.

    ¡°Speed is of the essence,¡± insisted Dorius, ¡°We¡¯re already losing half a season because we cannot travel by talon steed with so many.¡±

    The two-legged avian steeds were significantly faster than the bulls, easily able to take a rider four or five times the distance in a day that the fell beasts could. But they were unable to take much weight, could not pull any cargo, and Val was fairly certain she would crush them if she tried to ride one. They were better suited for scouts, runners, and planned routes where steeds could be changed at regular intervals. Horses were exceedingly rare, remnant creatures still cultivated by families with old blood. One of Dorius¡¯ cousins had once bragged of their stable containing six such animals, declaring he had a foal that year with feathered fetlocks, a desirable trait apparently indicative of strong blood from the ancestor species. They were all flighty, unreliable steeds in Val¡¯s limited opinion, ridden by nobles for show and often with a handler nearby if the beast spooked. Apparently they were capable of the best of both fell bulls and talon steeds, swift and with a good strong back. More commonly though, they were bred for color and appearance rather than temperament, to match their prestige status, and Val was uncertain if you could even get two of them to coordinate to pull a load.

    ¡°And so travelling alone will make a great difference,¡± moaned Bastian, ¡°At best the hours saved each day will add up to a weeks head start on the rest of the party.¡±

    ¡°I would rather have the opportunity to understand the situation on the ground while we can. Everyone will be on guard once a Prince arrives and our opportunities to discern the truth of matters will be slim,¡± Dorius explained.

    This conversation had already been had several nights in a row, as Bastian¡¯s patience for actual hard work had run out and starting fights with his favorite target could pass as seeming busy. It had left Val with the bulk of the daily labors, and no companions to cycle tasks with. If she were not so annoyed, she might have reflected that this seemed to the lot of women no matter their species.

    ¡°Ha, you wanna bet,¡± chaffed Bastian, ¡°You¡¯ve forgotten what being a nobody is actually like. You¡¯ll be lucky to speak to anyone of importance, let alone get any ¡®truth¡¯ on matters from them. We¡¯ll be stuck in an inn waiting for your robes, and seals, and letters of introduction to arrive to get anything useful done and this will have been a miserable trek with no benefit to anyone.¡±

    Val sighed, and looked at one of the bulls who stared back, chewing his grain with a vacant expression. This one had a few white patches, and handsome dark horns not unlike her own. She did note there was some hair loss on its head where a band was strapped around the horns to allow the bull to pull with its forehead, mimicking their natural inclination. Laying the yoke and straps neatly on the ground, she returned to the wagon to find something to use as padding for the leather strap that rested there.

    ¡°What are you even doing!?¡±

    Bastian¡¯s exasperation pulled her attention back to the fire. Dorius had begun to unpack his truck then, scattering his belongings haphazard about the camp.

    ¡°Making more work, you¡¯re an outright slob to clean up after.¡± Bastian was on his feet, picking up a growing pile of clothing.

    Dorius ignored him, searching for something he had packed deep. With a grin of victory he pulled a metal token from the trunk. Val was not close enough to tell much except that it appeared to be a rectangular iron casting, not much larger than the palm of a hand.

    ¡°We will make our entrance as pilgrims,¡± he declared, holding it for Bastian. This was a new addition to the argument, Dorius must have felt inspired to share his hidden plans now they were closer. Bastian only stared back at him, shrugging slightly to show his arms were already full with another load. ¡°It¡¯s a welcome token,¡± Dorius explained, drawing it back again, ¡°I think my father hoarded it from a disused Vigil house one time. Hart remembered where it was.¡±

    ¡°Do you even know enough about the Vigilants to pass as an actual pilgrim?¡± accused Bastian, beginning to pile his collected load back into Dorius'' trunk, trying in his own way to keep their departure that morning on schedule.

    ¡°I know enough of things I think,¡± admitted Dorius, ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d work out the rest as we went along. You¡¯re good at that sort of thing.¡±

    Bastian¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°What am I? A mummer,¡± he grumbled. He kicked Dorius¡¯ trunk and gestured to the remaining scattered belongings, ¡°Clean up your own mess, Prince.¡± He then marched over towards Val, to finally help get the morning underway.

    Bastian fished back the feedbox from the bulls and hung it from the wagon again, then gathered up their short leads and began to bring them to Val who hoisted the yoke on her shoulders again in preparation for getting the bulls underneath it.

    Dorius trailed after with the token, having completely ignored the order from Bastian. Instead he seemed to be offering it to Val for a look, ignorant of her mission to get them on the road again.

    She obligingly glanced at it, still taking the weight of the yoke as Bastian got the bulls settled in position. It did appear to be cast in dark iron, but the inlaid pattern struck her as odd. It looked to be the front of a throne-like seat, with many wiggling lines emerging from behind it in an arc to the edges of the piece.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t look welcoming,¡± she absently commented, ¡°What¡¯s it for?¡±

    Dorius turned it in his hands, ¡°The symbol is the figure they call the Weaver. I suppose it might be a mark that you were meant to be on your journey or something?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you asked an actual Vigilant that?¡± asked Bastian, skeptical.

    ¡°I read it,¡± he replied, so no. Likely the Company was unsure if having it was taboo, and admitting to scavenging a disused Vigil chamber seemed like risky business.

    With the explanation, Val did recognize the design. The Vigil recognized four gods although she did not know all their names, just the symbols. The Watcher everyone knew. You might wish for luck from the Watcher, or attribute a fortunate series of events to the Watcher¡¯s attention. But the Watcher.. watched, they were not a god who intervened. And the Vigilants who typically remained apart for most affairs were actively hostile to any activity or sentiment from the populace that resembled worship for the Watcher other than the odd curse or passing remark. It was extremely important to them that people did not get the wrong idea about who or what the Watcher was.

    The next was the Weaver, the throne with thousands of snake-like tails. Every action was the Weaver¡¯s doing, the good and the bad. To the Vigilants there was no free will or choice in one¡¯s actions, only destiny and inevitability as the Weaver wove. Their intent was not malevolent, but neither was it benevolent, whatever purpose the Weaver sought was theirs to know alone - observed by the Vigilants and the Watcher.

    The final two gods she knew less of, one was associated with water and life, and the second with the color purple and death.

    While essentially present in some manner in any decently sized settlement, the Vigil was a reclusive sect. They did not evangelize their beliefs, and seemed to actively detest worship of their gods outside the walls of their chambers. They had no real authority, although they apparently did before the unrest. But they documented, kept records of births and deaths, ownership of lands and descriptions of boundaries, odd seeming administrative tasks. The thought that there might be pilgrims, or sacred lands for such a belief system struck Val as odd. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Bastian held the straps clear, and helped Val get the bulls in just the right position for the yoke as it was lowered to the back of their heads behind the horns. A system of straps then secured the yoke to the horns and around the bulls foreheads. Each side of the yoke was customized to the shape of that animal¡¯s horns - each bull even had their own side, and the teamsters on Dorius¡¯ estate and at the Company had careful rules about which bulls worked well together and what their respective equipment was. Val appreciated anyone concerned about good horn care, and she carefully ran her fingers along the straps making sure they were snug and comfortable. Bastian also was serious for a moment, giving the leads a gentle tug just to watch how the beasts leaned into the yoke to assess the position.

    Val left him to final preparations and turned towards the fire and Dorius¡¯ discarded belongings. She bent down to gather the last of his things and tossed them in the trunk. Dorius followed her, turning the token in his hands, slightly put off by Bastian¡¯s reaction to the plan. She gestured to him to pass it to her, which he obeyed, and she added it to the top of the trunk and forced the lid closed. Slinging it up on one shoulder, she kicked dirt over the fire to put it out.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it was the worst idea,¡± bemoaned Dorius.

    ¡°Half your ideas are shit,¡± called Bastian who had overheard, and was urging the bulls and wagon onto the road again by their leads.

    Val rolled her eyes, and returned to the wagon to deposit Dorius¡¯ trunk. Summoning what inner strength she had, she reassured, ¡°Bastian is just upset there¡¯s fewer hands to help.¡±

    ¡°As if you are any happier,¡± rebuked Bastian, ¡°Oh, hold!¡±

    Val followed his eyes up the road, a flock of a dozen or more guinea fowl were crossing the clearing. Bastian already had his war bow, single arrow in hand from the narrow quiver strapped to his thigh. Taking a slow breath he planted his feet and drew the string back with practised grace. With a thwock, the arrow flew, and one of the guinea fowl had their head fly clean off.

    ¡ª

    ¡°This is ominous,¡± declared Bastian from the front of the wagon, the bulls slowing the wagon to a stop as his pull on their lead slackened.

    Val strolled forward from her position at the back of the wagon. The slope had been steadily rising for the past few days as they began to gain altitude, the Spine now looming over their every action. The peaks were still capped in snow, despite it being late summer, and several glaciers crawled down the sides carving huge valleys before melting to streams. The buzzing in her ears had only grown more insistent as they had grown closer.

    Bastian¡¯s attention had been caught by the town ahead of them, it was nestled in the crevice of one of the valleys. The town walls were huge, solid granite structures - the perfect, smooth surfaces remnants of their magical origins. Oddly, they circled not only the town, but spread arms across each side of the valley, completely blocking passage to the higher slopes. The size of the town was hard to judge, it was masked by the walls. But, a lone tower - likely the chapel - peaked high enough to be seen. It was a similar dark stone to the walls. Entry was a single gateway, door emblazoned with the Watcher¡¯s eye - and the door was shut.

    Instead a ragtag community of lean-tos, tents, and even rough wooden structures had formed off the road in the shelter of the walls. They were not the first to arrive and find the way barred.

    The community appeared to be divided into two halves. One half was not unlike a military encampment - a small number of neat, square tents and felled logs corralling mounts left to graze. The second was much larger, larger than many villages, and composed of an odd assortment of tarps and makeshift hovels, centered around a bonfire that appeared to form its heart. Small wooden buildings had been constructed in the center, and the scaffolding of new ones implied that the community expected its wait to continue.

    A single horse grazed on the encampment side between all the beasts, tall and black. Several figures sat by it on guard.

    Dorius drew his blanket around his shoulders tighter, perched on the front of the wagon.

    ¡°I guess it¡¯s not just us then,¡± his eyes were narrow and his attention was on the more organized camp. Val similarly scanned it, looking for a flag or sigil that might identify the occupant. They were on independent land here, the odds were just as likely that it was a foreign dignitary as it was to be someone from the Fourth.

    Bastian was already at work, throwing some old tarps over the contents of the wagon and hiding his bow and quiver, opting to instead strap a dagger to his hip. He located Dorius¡¯ trunk and pocketed the token they had argued about several days earlier, then stripped off his leather jacket in exchange for a tattered old vest. He offered Val an old cloak, who unbuttoned her Phoenix sigil from her own jacket to exchange with him, and she obligingly wrapped the cloak¡¯s collar around her neck. Aware they were visible to any lookouts and lingering too long would attract attention, Bastian tossed Dorius his cap, and quickly returned to the front of the wagon, encouraging them to pick up the pace again.

    As they approached the camps, the sound of voices caught their attention. Several hunters had two huge elk strapped to a makeshift sled, and were struggling with the load crossing the meadow.

    One man raised a hand as they drew near with a welcoming ¡°Ho strangers!¡± Two of the hunters broke off and approached their wagon.

    ¡°Friend, can we borrow a bull?¡± asked the older of the two as they drew closer, ¡°The snake won¡¯t lend his teams to the other pilgrims.¡±

    Dorius¡¯ eyes lit up, but it was Bastian who responded, ¡°I¡¯d rather get my wagon in first, Val here can help you,¡± he offered, gesturing back to her. The hunters sized her up, and seemed satisfied with the counter-offer.

    ¡°Who¡¯s the snake?¡± asked Dorius around Bastian.

    The hunter who had spoken gestured to the other camp, ¡°Some lordling and his retinue, been camped here since mid-summer.¡±

    Val began to trudge off the road towards the two hunters. The high meadow was surprisingly boggy, no wonder the sled had gotten stuck.

    ¡°What¡¯s the deal?¡± Bastian asked, jerking his head to the closed gates.

    The man shrugged, ¡°Long story. There¡¯s a big tent by the fire, woman called Clara organizes this little encampment, she can catch you up and help you get settled. You¡¯ll be in for a wait.¡±

    The hunter turned to join Val then and began the slog through the spongy meadow back to the elks where the other hunters were waiting. The ground was uneven beneath the low greenery and if she was not careful where she placed her feet there was a good chance of turning an ankle. Val noted the second hunter was barely a boy, in his young teens, wide eyes staring up at her horns.

    ¡°You one of them Laons? You got horns like one,¡± exclaimed the boy. The older hunter cuffed him across the back of his head.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be rude,¡± then to Val, ¡°Your kind are welcome here, ignore the boy.¡±

    Val¡¯s curiosity about the creature the boy had named was almost strong enough for her to ask after it, but she was unsure if it was instead something obscene or an insult she didn¡¯t recognize, so she kept her mouth shut and continued to follow. She stumbled on something with a large flat edge, sticking out of the earth and bent to inspect it. Brushing back the groundcover, the curved, dented, sharp line of something man-made stuck up from the earth at an angle. With a sickening start, she realized it was a shield. The meadow had once been a battlefield.

    The issue with the sled was immediately obvious, it had hit something in the dirt just like she had and snapped a runner. The broken edge had dug into the soft meadow and the sled was already well on its way to being consumed like the rest of the battlefield. Val stood over it with a frown while the hunters looked at her expectantly.

    ¡°Worst case, we were considering butchering them and carrying them piece by piece¡­¡± offered the hunter that had called her over.

    Finding her voice, Val ordered, ¡°Unstrap them, I¡¯ll carry them.¡±

    There were several raised eyebrows. Val unstrapped her battle-axe and laid it on the ground, then drawing a small knife from her hip she began to twist the tip into the back of one elk¡¯s hock. Understanding, the hunters got to work helping. In short order they had each elk bound by the hocks to either end of the haft of the axe, and their heads and tied forelimbs bagged in the tarp they¡¯d rested on on the sled. With Val squatting, the hunters helping her get the axe positioned across her shoulders, her hands locked around the makeshift yoke. She leaned forward, and with a groan stood, the elks hanging down her back. She¡¯d judged their length right, and the bagged heads would keep them clean where they dragged on the ground behind her. Several of the men seemed stunned at the monumental feat of strength, giving her a few congratulatory oohs and ahhs. She shrugged the axe a couple of times to get things balanced, and indicated for them to lead the way.

    The young boy, seeming to take a liking to her, bounced ahead while she slowly marched with the original hunter that had summoned them, pointing out debris on the path ahead of her. The weight on this uneven ground was no easy feat, even for her, and her steps were slow and methodological so she would not lose her footing. The child chattered inanely as they walked to fill the silence. Soon enough, they were in the camp, and the hunters led her to a tent where makeshift scaffolding was prepared for processing the meat. A nearby field kitchen already had a communal pot going, and there were even some boxes packed with hay containing cut bricks of compressed ice from somewhere up the slopes.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a talker eh,¡± remarked the hunter as Val silently hung the elk for them, ¡°Come, let¡¯s find your companions.¡±

 3.2 Bells

    The hunter led her to a tent by the central fire, the boy, who she assumed was his son, ran ahead. They passed hundreds of pilgrims, many children and elderly, hunched in makeshift lean-tos or improvised shelters throughout the community. The few able bodied moved about in an organized, routine manner - distributing food, collecting laundry, helping with repairs. Val felt concern growing for their mission, the relaxed familiarity with the work implied that this community was not new. She was also pleasantly shocked to see numerous Fae-touched moving about. One man had furred ears like a cat, another a wild mane of fur-like hair on her head, neck, shoulders and wrists. Did the Vigil have some relation with Fae she did not know? She¡¯d generally avoided their houses, the music they regularly played within the Vigil chambers during their rites made her uncomfortable. Her ears buzzed at the reminder of music, the feeling was not dissimilar now she thought of it.

    Lifting the flap of the tent for her, a gesture entirely useless as she still had to duck, the hunter beckoned her in. The tent was generously appointed for their situation, a small coffee table, chairs and several desks had been set up. A noticeboard had also been propped up against the leg of a table, names scribbled on it with assignments for the day. It appeared to have drawn its design from a labor union.

    Seeing the boy come running in, a robust blonde haired woman gave the boy a familiar hug, and rose from her position at one of the desks in greeting.

    ¡°More pilgrims,¡± explained the hunter, gesturing for Val to sit, ¡°These ones seem useful though, they¡¯ve got two bulls with them.¡±

    The woman seemed tired, but she busied herself filling a cup with ladles of water from a barrel in the corner of the room.

    ¡°Can you hunt?¡± she asked, ¡°Or if not can you help cook or clean? We¡¯ve plenty of mouths to feed here.¡±

    Val hummed and admitted, ¡°I¡¯d be better lifting heavy things.¡±

    ¡°That she can certainly do,¡± admitted the hunter, scratching the back of his head.

    ¡°I can hunt,¡± it was Bastian, followed by Dorius and another one of the hunters entering the tent. The woman gave Bastian a skeptical look, and handed Val the cup, before returning to make more.

    ¡°I am Clara,¡± introduced the woman, ¡°My father ran a union back in Greyhold, I have the reluctant honor of running our little settlement.¡±

    ¡°Bastian, Dorn, Val,¡± returned Bastian, gesturing to each member as he listed names, ¡°We were not expecting to find the gate barred, what is happening?¡±

    Clara handed them each a cup to drink, and took a seat, Bastian and Dorius following suit. Val hesitated, used to protectively keeping close to Dorius, but chose a table to lean against instead.

    ¡°We¡¯d all like to know. Gate to High Haven has been shut since it should have opened in the early spring. Merchants and traders have given up waiting, and taken their wares elsewhere. Us pilgrims have been waiting since then as well, slowly growing our community in hope the gates will open. We¡¯ll be in trouble if we are still out here for much longer and cold starts coming,¡± she explained.

    ¡°The Vigilants declared an intruder broke the seal of the sacred valleys and disturbed a god, the gates were barred to outsiders,¡± added the hunter, ¡°I am Gail, normally the Mayor of High Haven, but I¡¯ve been coming daily to do my best for the pilgrims in the meantime.¡±

    ¡°You can come and go?¡± asked Bastian.

    Gail nodded, ¡°They open the gate at dawn and dusk to let caravans from within come and go with goods from Kal¡¯Fall. The Vigilants have refused any outsider though, even the sick, weak and elderly, so we have been doing what we can during the day. Usually we¡¯d welcome pilgrims seeking to speak with the Prime Vigilant.¡±

    ¡°Is that what pilgrims usually come for?¡± asked Dorius, Bastian looked uncomfortable.

    Clara narrowed her eyes, ¡°That is usually the purpose of most pilgrims, yes. You had a question that your local Vigilants had no records of or could not answer? They deemed the question important enough to send you with a token to ask the Prime?¡±

    Bastian flashed the token from his pocket, ¡°Yes, of course.¡± He gave Dorius a subtle look that insisted he do the speaking. Clara seemed to relax on seeing the dark token.

    ¡°Have you tried to reason with the Vigilants, we¡¯d very much like to speak with the Prime?¡± continued Bastian.

    Gail shook his head sadly, ¡°It has been useless. Nothing we have said, not pleas or bribes or bargains, will get through to them. We ask what can be done to fix things? If they are angry or if there is some sort of retribution needed? And get no answers except silence. I don¡¯t think even they know what they are waiting for, some sign maybe?¡±

    ¡°You can try to plead your case to the Vigilants when they open the gate tonight, I doubt it will get you very far. You¡¯ll see what I mean when the caravan returns,¡± added Clara, ¡°In the meantime you are welcome to join us. If you can hunt we need to bring food in daily for the community to eat. Some muscle around to help with construction would also be welcome. We hold a morning meeting where work is assigned.¡±

    ¡°We will help where we can,¡± offered Bastian, ¡°I assume we are free to pitch our tents and graze our bulls?¡±

    The hunter that had guided Dorius and Bastian to the tent nodded, ¡°The spot I showed you is flat, further down the slopes of the meadow has too much debris.¡±

    ¡°Stay clear of the other camp,¡± Clara added, ¡°The guards struck a girl that got too close to the herds. They¡¯ve also started fights almost daily with the Vigilants and caravans as well. We¡¯ve had a rough time trying to keep things peaceful. Pilgrims are tired and angry, they want something to blame but they would all die if it came to a fight with trained soldiers, even with the advantage of numbers.¡±

    ¡°You called him the snake earlier?¡± asked Bastian.

    Gail nodded, ¡°The Citrine Snake Prince and a small retinue. His older brother, the Carmine Prince, was here just before the gates were closed.¡±

    The snake, in actuality a giant sea serpent, was the sigil of the Second Pentarchy.

    ¡ª

    Val sensed the change in the encampments'' air well before she realized what was happening. A tension had begun to build, as if the air pressure was dropping before a storm. The low buzzing that had plagued her thoughts grew in anticipation, now on the verge of giving her a headache.

    There was a slow stream of people, making their way towards the center of the two encampments where the road bisected them. Not just workers, but also the despondent pilgrims who huddled in their shelters. The sick and injured rolled from their cots, and with or without the help of peers, joined the growing mass.

    Val lowered the firewood she was carrying, hauled from the forest on a brace across her back, and followed the direction of the bodies with her eyes as they assembled. Their attention faced down the slope along the road. From the forest had emerged a convoy of wagons and carts, pulled by fell bulls. These must be the returning natives of High Haven from the day¡¯s round trip to Kal¡¯Fall. The convoy was mostly unremarkable to her eyes, except for two Fae-touched walking near the rear, with horns not unlike her own.

    Val wiped the sweat from her brow. She hesitated, considering going to grab her axe, then discarded her brace and rose to follow the next pilgrim who walked by.

    The crowd was gathering at the gates, blocking the way to the gate for the wagon convoy. Guards further down the road at the convoy were assembling at the fore, arming themselves with shields and simple clubs. Val stood at the back and watched over the crowd, nervously scanning the back of heads for Dorius¡¯ familiar cap or white-blonde hair.

    There seemed to be an organized resistance within the front of the pilgrims on the road, led by the hunters from earlier in the day. They jostled with the crowd, waving arms, pointing. Urging them back, that this assembling was futile. This continued for several minutes as the convoy behind began to prepare for the push to the gate.

    ¡°Ho, stand down!¡± came the single authoritative cry, seeming to echo unnaturally in the valley. Val winced as the buzzing shrieked high pitch for a moment in accompaniment. The crowd as one turned to the source. Then the convoy guard began a march, shoulder to shoulder across the road, shields raised. The wagons had pulled in tight behind them.

    The tension in the pilgrims mounted. Pleas and cries began as the guards drew close, men and women fell to their knees on the road grasping at shields only to be dragged to their feet again by the hunters and urged on. The crowd pushed forward as one, growing denser.

    A scream split the tension as the guards made contact with the mass and began to push them back. Voices raised, pleas turned to fury, fists in the air. Val felt a panic rise in her chest, and began to plow her way through the bodies, desperately grabbing shoulders and wheeling her head about now in the search for Dorius or Bastian. Bodies pressed against her as she beelined for the center of the chaos. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    A groan foreshadowed the great gate beginning to open. From the town, a bell tower tolled. As the sound of the lonely peal faded into the mountains, Val felt the buzzing in the back of her mind threaten to burst.

    The crowd shifted again, pulling back towards the gate in anticipation. A second scream of pain came, muffled by the growing cacophony of voices. Val passed a child, and instinctively pulled their body behind her, careful hands keeping them on their feet, and she continued forward into the bodies still. Her chest was tight. Panic only built between the tension of the buzzing and the cacophony of anger and fear around her.

    ¡°Clear the way!¡± another voice this time from the gateway, with a similar quality to the first. It echoed unnaturally in the air - cutting clean through the cacophony of pleas from the mass. A similar shield wall was being mounted from inside the gate. As it opened and the guards pushed outwards clearing the path, Val spied a single bald figure supervising - dressed in heavy robes of purple so deep they could have been black.

    The bell tolled a second time, and clappers joined the song now.

    As Val neared the center of the crowd, she got the first clear view of the front. The convoy guards continued their shield wall¡¯s progress. Arms locked with each other, they slowly pressed forward, clearing a path for the wagons and bulls behind them. The hunters, led by Gail and Clara, were intervening in the slim gap between the shield wall and pilgrim mass. They pulled desperate crying men and women back from the wall to clear the path, or swooped to quickly right bodies who stumbled before they were crushed underfoot. Desperately, through it all, they pleaded for peace and were only met with angry fists. Val spied Bastian among them, gesturing to the hunters as he hoisted a limp body away from the shield wall and passed them back into the crowd. Dorius was still nowhere to be seen. The gap they occupied was slim and only growing tighter.

    A second commotion began at that point, the encampment on the other side of the road had formed a wedge of shields on their own, and was pushing through the pilgrims towards the gate. Without the hunters managing the new front, bodies who went down did not get to their feet again.

    Val burst through then to join the hunters, taking her cue from Bastian supporting them she lowered her shoulders, spread her arms, and pushed back the crowd from the shield wall in an effort to create more space. The melody of the bells swelled, the buzzing yielding to the new song.

    The wall of bodies yielded to her, and with slow careful steps she eased the convoy through as anger continued to build. Hands flailed against her head and horns, raining her with blows. She tucked her shoulders tighter in response, and listened to the bells. Instinctively hunters gathered behind her, helping gather pilgrims to their feet that fell beneath her steady march and the returning press of the masses, passing them sideways away from the danger of the crush. Bastian drew close, helping fish yet another child to their feet underneath her and passing them along to a hunter.

    ¡°Where is Dorn?¡± she asked him, turning her head to shield her face from pleading hands.

    ¡°Safe,¡± was the only reply he had time for.

    They were drawing close to the gate now, a circular shield wall formed there to keep pilgrims from pressing through the gate. Sensing their loss, the pilgrims were beginning to pull back - easing the press of bodies at the fronts. Both shield walls then met and opened, separating to the sides to clear a pathway for the convoy to pass through. Val stepped back, contained within the pathway created by the shields. The robed figure watched her catch her breath, bells ringing.

    The hunters seemed to gather up to join the convoy then, Gail patted Clara on the back and she withdrew to watch them pass, her face dirtied and downcast with disappointment. They seamlessly blended into the convoy and passed through the gates. The robed figure watched every face that entered. In short moments, the group was almost through.

    The two horned Fae had the back of the convoy, pushing pilgrims back roughly from the tail. Val intently watched, Fae-touched were all a little different, she had never seen anything so like herself. They were just as tall as her, but slightly slimmer in the body. They each had only two black horns, like her head ones, but lacked the pair on each side of her jawline. One, the older of the pair, had his right horn broken, snapped several inches from the tip with layers of keratin peeling from the edge. He wore a waistband made of wolf¡¯s pelt. Both had the sides of their heads shaved, a mohawk of dark hair between the horns, and had painted their faces with black dirt or ashes.

    The younger one noticed Val as they passed, his mouth falling open in shock. He tapped his broken horned companion¡¯s arm, who looked around then stopped eyes on Val. His brows instead drew tight in concern, cutting short Val¡¯s hesitant motion to raise her hand in greeting. He rushed his companion around, throwing her another glance over his shoulder as they turned. Then the convoy was through and they slipped past the gates with it.

    ¡°Priest!¡± yelled a demanding voice over the scattering pilgrims. The robed figure paused for a moment, as the gates continued to shut behind them. The ringing of the bells ceased, but the metallic notes reverberated through the mountain valley still.

    ¡°You will let us pass!¡± The source of the voice was a dark skinned man, dressed in black, standing at the center of the encampment guard that had successfully pierced through the crowd. He pushed aside the shoulder of one of his men, then suddenly had his curved sword drawn and was stalking up to the robed figure. On his chest was an ornate broach in yellow crystal, a figure of a coiling snake.

    The robed figure seemed unimpressed and folded their arms, standing back to the gate in confrontation. ¡°There will be no passage to the town nor the Vigil Chapel,¡± the voice was distinctly feminine, with a dark, husky tone.

    ¡°You cannot deny me,¡± the Citrine Prince raised his blade. Several of his retinue were behind him, trying to pull him back bodily by the shoulder. He shook them off, and pressed his sword menacingly at the Vigilant¡¯s chest.

    ¡°Friend, no bloodshed please.¡± It was Bastian, he took a tentative step towards the two figures. The Prince snapped his head around, scowl growing. He turned his blade towards Bastian¡­ and Val surged.

    In the silence between heartbeats, the bells still tolled for her, great clappers crashing against bronze. Each peal rang concordant and true. Like strikes of iron in the forge fire. Bright sparks swelled within her and flames leapt, barely contained.

    Within a few steps she was next to Bastian, one handed she reached out and grasped the back of the blade. With a twist of her wrist she wrenched the sword from the Prince¡¯s grip.

    His retinue drew their swords as one. Val turned on them. Legs planted wide she lowered her shoulders, throwing the Prince¡¯s blade to the ground in warning, and bellowed like a bull. Fire swelled within her, threatening to burst forth, almost as if her bellow would belch it free to consume her foes. Bastian tried to go around her, but she held out one arm and kept him firmly back. The Vigilant watched her with curious eyes.

    ¡°You would threaten me!¡± snarled the Prince. His guard were on the edge of breaking from formation, waiting for the slightest movement from Val to surge forward.

    ¡°Val!¡± insisted Bastian, pushing her arm aside, and with it her growing irrationality. Hands out, fingers wide, he gestured a surrender, ¡°No threats.¡±

    ¡°You have touched a Prince of the Serpent, I should have that Fae slaughtered!¡±

    ¡°And you threatened a Vigilant and injured a small village of innocents on your march here!¡± Bastian returned righteously. He gestured to the crowd of pilgrims drawing away from them now, many limping or nursing wounds from the riot. ¡°This is no way for a Prince to act in Free State land.¡±

    The Prince narrowed his eyes and turned on the Vigilant, ¡°I am not at fault! You deny these people not me! You have barred this gate for months, I demand no longer!¡±

    The Vigilant shrugged their shoulders, ¡°Our sacred duties trump your inconvenience. Entry is denied to all.¡±

    ¡°What must we do?¡± begged Bastian, turning to confront the Vigilant too, ¡°This is madness!? Have you seen how many lay injured today?¡±

    ¡°Injured due to your indifference!¡± accused the Prince.

    Bastian wheeled his head back round and held a finger in accusation, ¡°Injured due to your negligence too!¡± Val punctuated his rebuke with a snort. The Prince¡¯s guards shifted nervously.

    The Vigilant held their hands wide in a gesture of innocence, but their face softened, ¡°We regret the plight of the pilgrims, and the necessity of our actions. The townsfolk within are innocents too. Until the Prime orders it, no outsider will pass,¡± and with that they turned to slip through the gate.

    ¡°No!¡± yelped Bastian, fingers grasping after the Vigilant¡¯s sleeve and just missing. The gate was shut. He growled and punched the wall in frustration, shaking his hand as he hissed at the pain from the futile gesture. With a great sigh he turned, ¡°What a fucking mess.¡±

    ¡°It has been like this for months, only growing more desperate and chaotic each day,¡± added the Citrine Prince, approaching Bastian. Val snarled, interposing herself between them. Bastian grabbed her by the shoulder and she let him pull her back. Ducking slightly, he retrieved the Prince¡¯s curved blade and offered it to him hilt first in truce.

    The Prince narrowed his eyes, glancing at Val, then grasped the hilt.

    After a moment, as if to say he was in control of this situation, Bastian let go of the blade then raised his hands again in surrender, ¡°My companion is protective. Let¡¯s end this and try conversation instead of accusation,¡± he offered.

    Tension seemed to unwind as moments passed. The Prince looked at his guard and the dissipating pilgrims, then sheathed his sword and rubbed tired eyes. His guard relaxed, and several retainers approached. Val sniffed, brows still furrowed, the flame within her had no outlet and simmered in her chest, but at least her head was clear of buzzing for the first time in days.

    Bastian, hands on hips, scanned the pilgrims. Despite the screams and chaos earlier, there did not seem to be significant injuries. Many would be nursing bruises or strains, but no lives were lost. Clara hovered on the edge of the encampment, shepherding the masses back, ordering beds and recovery.

    The Prince looked the pair of them up and down in study. ¡°You speak rather casually to a Prince,¡± he commented.

    Bastian shrugged. ¡°I am not unused to handling nobility,¡± he hinted. He rubbed his chin a moment, then considered the Prince. ¡°I think we could be of benefit to each other here, would you be willing to meet with us?¡±

    The Prince laughed at the offer, ¡°Us? And what benefit exactly would peasants offer me?¡±

    ¡°Meet with me and see for yourself,¡± Bastian clapped Val on the shoulder, bidding her to relax and follow him, ¡°I will come to you.¡±

    Val growled in warning one last time, and followed Bastian back into the pilgrim camp, leaving the Citrine Prince to his retinue. The feeling of fire in her chest smoldered.