foxes
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I decided to put together a decent story from my old ‘forgotten’ draft. Even though the story already has an exciting beginning, I wanted to make the introduction to the world more consistent. And I wanted to leave the main character, who doesn't really have human consciousness, in the background. On the one hand, this could hurt the story, but on the other hand, the supporting characters would play a more active role anyway.
For this reason, I wanted to start the story by introducing these characters in their natural environment. And I started writing, as usual, with the image that was the most vivid. The commander's meeting with the kingdom's advisor. Their briefing introduces the reader to the main part of the global events. But after studying some techniques, I realised that this introduction was too overloaded and did not reveal enough about the characters.
Then I started with an event where the commander first gets involved in local problems, then in larger ones, and finally in the main reason for their journey. Unfortunately, this approach seems dry and not at all illustrative to me. Looking at it, I don't see clear images and characters in such a presentation.
There is a third, more detailed example, but it is no less dry. But first, I want to hear an outside opinion. Is it even worth digging so deep? Maybe the first option is good enough. What are your thoughts on this?
Here are my sketches:For this reason, I wanted to start the story by introducing these characters in their natural environment. And I started writing, as usual, with the image that was the most vivid. The commander's meeting with the kingdom's advisor. Their briefing introduces the reader to the main part of the global events. But after studying some techniques, I realised that this introduction was too overloaded and did not reveal enough about the characters.
Then I started with an event where the commander first gets involved in local problems, then in larger ones, and finally in the main reason for their journey. Unfortunately, this approach seems dry and not at all illustrative to me. Looking at it, I don't see clear images and characters in such a presentation.
There is a third, more detailed example, but it is no less dry. But first, I want to hear an outside opinion. Is it even worth digging so deep? Maybe the first option is good enough. What are your thoughts on this?
Сhapter 1. Assignment.
A light creak of leather equipment and a sharp step echoed, breaking the benumbed silence. Following the servants' directions, the guest turned left and passed under a wide arch into the spacious palace vestibule. The anteroom, awash in the evening sun, greeted him with the clutter of ongoing work. Noticing a lone silhouette at a carved desk, the subordinate straightened up and announced crisply:
"Tefis Galfin, commander of Lord Poner Istor's third squad, has arrived as you commanded!" Appearing before the king's military advisor himself for the first time, the soldier felt out of place. Firis Fold did not stir.
"At ease," the short, forty-year-old man, settled in a comfortable armchair, commanded indifferently.
Pausing for a moment with an armful of manuscripts, he looked over the warrior's appearance. The haste with which he had arrived was demonstrated by the dried mud on his boot-tops. The worn scabbard and rough, calloused features could tell tales of various tribulations. Most importantly, they presented a man who did not shy away from putting in the effort for the cause. Something that was lacking in the court commanders in their gleaming armor, sitting idly in the rear. Such a contrast elicited an involuntary sigh of regret from him.
Setting the stack aside and selecting some notes from among the scattered papers, the official leaned back. The high back of the chair creaked softly, accepting the important figure. Refreshing his memory of the commander's file, he glanced at him again and laced his fingers across his chest.
"Thirty-two years old and still a decurion… Does your benefactor truly not value his heroes?"
"No, not at all. The Lord is quite generous," came the confident, indignant reply to the sarcastic remark. But, not wishing to seem a favorite, he chose to keep silent about the farm where he served and his family lived.
"Ahem," an unexpected dry cough interrupted the conversation. A gaunt youth in noble attire emerged cautiously from a slightly ajar door. The young man's frail and unhealthy appearance made the officer frown in sympathy. Some beggars looked far healthier, despite their rags. Placing one of the scrolls down, the sickly fellow began to sort through the scattered documents.
"Girgil, be so good as to bring the draft maps," the seated man dismissed the poor soul, watching as he, starting in surprise, slowly disappeared through the doorway.
Taking advantage of the aristocrat's distraction, the serviceman surveyed the ornate surroundings. The opportunity to be in Zantim—the capital of Parfemin—was rare. And to gaze upon the royal chambers—that had never happened. The pass-through hall next to the vestibule, with its almost mirror-like floor, offered no chance to relax. In addition, the intricate patterns of the rich tapestries and the full-length curtains on the windows would have astounded many.
"And so," the nobleman began, after a pause to gather his thoughts. "There is a mountain of work," he added with regret, misinterpreting the guest's glancing around. He himself took no pleasure in holding a meeting in a corridor that resembled a library in the middle of a move. However, there was no time to lament the circumstances; business, business above all. "What do you know of the Golskape Mountains?"
"M-mm, nothing," the soldier responded, pulled from his reverie, slightly embarrassed. His thoughts were currently far from the norms of courtly etiquette. And he certainly hadn't had occasion to think about some unknown lands shrouded in gossip. How could he know anything of substance about them? Or had someone been slandering him?
"Nothing at all?" the cunning man inquired insistently.
The declared war on old superstitions had made people wary of mentioning legends...
"Sir! My lord's lands lie to the southwest. And we have no cause to venture into other regions, let alone beyond the northern ridge, without specific orders," the warrior, baffled by this persistence, explained, spreading his hands. He wasn't about to report on rumors, was he?
"Alright, let's leave it," the interrogator muttered as if to himself, tapping his fingers. "Perhaps I started on the wrong foot," he hesitated. "A great deal has happened lately. But when was it ever different?" The advisor's smirk betrayed his nervousness. "Yes, one thing leads to another. And your direct participation could help unravel this tangle."
"Sir?..." A silently raised palm stopped the soldier's questioning objection.
"Don't be hasty… His Majesty, as you know, does not tolerate fairy tales. Especially those that hinder progress. And the fables about the mountains allow some to stir up trouble. We have no need for sabotage and rebellion. Therefore, a scientific expedition must officially confirm they are baseless. Moreover, my sources only confirm the absurdity of these fabrications…"
"If everything is already clear, then…" the guard began uncertainly, then quickly collected himself and blurted out, "How can I be of service?"
"Well... A minor reconnaissance, nothing compared to deep research and the recognition of our neighbors. A demonstration of unity, at least on this issue, will help strengthen a fragile peace. But if something worthwhile is found there, disputes will be unavoidable," he paused, then stressed with annoyance, "Eliminating internal strife will not rule out the possibility of war… We must be more vigilant with representatives of other countries. And your border experience will be useful."
Tefis flinched internally. The frontline with the kingdom of Fled he had mostly defended from lost wanderers and street urchins. And all his merits had been earned fending off animal attacks and threats from local hooligans.
"Here," fortunately, the youth's reedy voice broke the confusion brewing in the hero's mind. Now it was the nobleman who felt the tension of the clumsy arrangement of the scrolls.
"Alright," Firis interrupted the boy's fussing with stern condescension and returned to the conversation. "The task is a delicate one. You are to escort a team of specialists along a proven route." Picking up the sketches of the area, he unfolded a scrap and pointed to the left of a chewed-looking circle that resembled a body of water. "Somewhere in this area, I think, would be a good place to set up. At least there are fish there."
"In this season, yes," glancing briefly at the drawing, the warrior tried to push away the weight of the expectations placed upon him. The northwestern Fort Highlang was marked as the final destination in the lands of Lord Mermer. Above it, a path snaked through a winding gorge, marked with "four to six stops." "Sir, I hope the expedition is scheduled for later? It can be dangerous at the foothills right now. Floods, rockslides."
Squinting, the official quickly recalled recent negotiations.
"Our king, Erigan, wishes to hear an answer as soon as possible. His impetuous nature demands everything at once, but the envoys agreed to a period of forty days. So we have no time to wait for good weather. Besides, the dwarves are participating, despite the risks."
"Um, here… the full roster," selecting a sheet, he slid it across the table toward the soldier and tapped it preemptively. With a jingle of his gear, the brave man carefully took the list of names and their descriptions. It was not in his nature to cherish the records laid out here. But the content, and who had provided it, played a significant role.
"In short," the advisor began to hurry him, not waiting for him to read the entire list. "You will be assigned four guards. They are young and promising. Additionally, on the way, in Frix, you will meet representatives from the other states. All of you together will be more than enough to defeat even a wild kasgir. And the healer…"
"Hmph, elves..." Tefis grumbled quietly, stumbling upon the mention of the Isil Empire. The presence of the forest dwellers, renowned for their impatience with other races, seemed outlandish. However, to fight predators hungry after a long hibernation, anyone would do.
"Yes, yes, elv—No," the lecturer, who had been gaining momentum, interrupted himself and rose from his chair. "El'ny! Remember, El-ny! And don't you dare call any of them that," a lump in his throat cut short his preemptive warning. "And yet… A scandal is unavoidable here. Nevertheless, they are as important an ally as Fled." Feeling a swelling in his legs, he began to pace.
Meanwhile, the scope of potential problems grew weightier before the commander's eyes. And while he discontentedly pondered this scheme, the official was measuring out an acceptable payment for it:
"I understand. If you had a choice, you would stay with your wife and children. Unfortunately, there are not many whom one can entrust with such a matter. You see for yourself, I have to dig through archives so as not to miss anything. For the success of this expedition is of great importance… not just for the state. To you, personally, I can provide more options, up to a change of employment. Including a full relocation with your family, wherever you wish."
Tefis tore his eyes from the paper and stared at him intently. From his reaction, the shrewd man immediately guessed his conclusions were correct. A simple man needed freedom. After all, he still had eight years left of his service. And he already had his own small farm that brought in a decent income. What more does one need for a quiet life?
"You will have time to consider and study the proposals. Of course, everything depends on the results and consequences. By the way, here is a preliminary draft of the reward," he pulled out a new document and handed it to the bewildered man. "You can apply for the position of head of one of the royal squads, and there are several worthy appointments in other cities."
"Pardon me, but I would prefer to remain in the service of Lord Poner," the loyal subordinate replied, glancing at the manuscript. He was in no hurry to swallow the tempting bait. Who knew with these aristocrats: one day they roll out the red carpet for you, and the next they could throw you in prison for desertion. And to hear such a thing from the mouth of the second man after the king, practically a general, was highly suspicious.
"I appreciate your loyalty and restraint, yet I ask you not to be shy in expressing your own preferences. I also have a post in my own department. You would only have to leave home occasionally for small missions." Fold's eyes latched sharply onto the warrior's stern gaze, catching the fleeting confusion in it. Then he awkwardly twitched the corners of his mouth and looked at the pile of papers.
"Mm, my request remains the same," his position as a family man already seemed like a fairy tale. It pleased him to return every day and watch his sons grow. To fall asleep in the arms of his beloved, without reproaches about another departure. Therefore, he had no desire to trade this for illusory opportunities.
"Very well, very well," the reserved man replied, shaking his head, and began to rummage on the table again, ignoring his assistant's presence. "If there are no objections to the roster, here are the papers for provisions and equipment. And these are the orders to transfer the guards to your command. And the appointments for the priest and the healer. The blacksmiths from Shofu have promised to prepare the tools, and in Ester, you will hire laborers as needed. You will also replenish your supplies there."
Firis continued to slide sheet after sheet until a hefty stack formed in Tefis's hands. The superior's mountain of paperwork had almost disappeared. A real headache lay ahead: sorting through all this without missing a single detail or forgetting any of the instructions. Only a dozen men, equipped like a reconnaissance squad, but the work with them was shaping up to be considerable. It was much simpler to command a regular formation.
"For assistance, I will send Lorin, the royal cartographer. You will have to find geologists in the local mines from the provided list. In a pinch, for a reward, you can hire someone along the way. That's all for the official part… Do you have any questions?"
"Aren't the dwarves enough?"
It couldn't be said that the kingdom lacked specialists. But no one would dare dispute the dwarves' knowledge of the subterranean depths.
"They are true professionals, and the short folk don't arouse my mistrust," he noted in a friendly tone. "But formally, our people must be present in the group. And there will be other expeditions later… This campaign shouldn't be canceled because of some minor troubles. In the end, your report on everything that happens on the trip will be sufficient for me. Lastly, here are all the directives I just mentioned," the administrator pointed to a single list lying alone.
"Then I have no more questions," the serviceman saluted, showing no hesitation. "Shall I proceed?"
"Yes, yes. But first, take new orils and go to your family for two days. And then… no, better yet, just return to me. The wagons with the equipment will be ready by then."
"In that case, may I leave the papers with you? You see… the situation at home is not conducive to storing important documents," Tefis didn't want to tremble over every scrap of paper during his allotted leave. And who knew what might happen on the road. Besides, the children would need watching. A stock of incomprehensible squiggles wouldn't lie idle for long.
"Of course," the advisor nodded. "Just don't forget your appointment orders and your pass. Give the rest to Girgil, he'll keep them until your return... By the way, I'll assign him to you. Something needs to be delivered to Liski, personally into Urshil's hands. He can also help you in the beginning," he cast a quick glance at the frail youth. "Let him get some air..."
Сhapter 2.***
A half-day's journey past Kholga and beyond a familiar treeline, Tefis's home village came into view. The stone-cold palace corridors, imbued with fragrant scents, were far behind. But even compared to the hills he had just crossed, where a cool wind had blown, the air here felt different. The aromas of the farmyard could hardly compete with the smell of thawing earth and last year's leaves. After surviving the winter, everything was returning to its familiar rhythm.
In anticipation of his own hearth, the warrior urged his mount on with a heavy, short sigh. Passing through the gates and waving to his fellow soldiers as he went, he galloped on, leaving the hustle and bustle behind. The sturdy houses, not standing out much against the high surrounding fence, looked peaceful. And the sounds of an anvil briskly hammered away the tension from his meeting with the advisor.
Workers were still busy at one of the large pens, distracted by the rider's appearance. But the squeaking of the fluffy balls, gathered by the children behind the enclosure, left them no choice. The seasonal shearing of the helpless kholoks was in full swing. The growing down on these creatures eventually robbed them of their mobility, which is why the small, eared critters did not live long in the wild.
"Tefis?" a familiar, clear voice made the women emerging from a small barn stop in their tracks. "Did something happen?"
Milan, handing the shears to her assistant, wiped her hands on her rough apron and stepped through the gate. Wavy, dark-blonde strands of hair escaped from under her gray headband. She looked at him with surprise, her brow furrowed amusingly. Her husband's hasty arrival, without the wagon train of wool that should have been sent with him, was cause for concern.
"No," he winced, remembering the caravan picking up goods in the capital, and shook his head as he dismounted. "Everything's... fine. I just... wanted to see you."
Looking at the horseman's carefree expression, his wife tilted her head appraisingly. Finding nothing amiss, she waved it away and addressed the others. "We can finish for today... Aliri, will you watch over things?" Nodding to her still assistant, she called to the children, "Vilen, Lurt! Where are you? Father's back!"
"Ooh!" a five-year-old boy shot out from behind the kennels with a cry and ran to meet him, scattering the small animals. Scooping up the sprawling boy, Tefis sat him in the saddle. The little rascal immediately grabbed the worn horns on the oril's spine and shouted gleefully, "Hyaa!"
"Home already?" The older one appeared next, slowly moving away from a pack of his peers. But upon seeing Vilen on the mount, he bolted after them amidst envious muttering.
"You can play tomorrow," their mother remarked wearily and, after watching the pair settle on the mount, tugged impatiently at her husband. "Well?"
"Oh, right... the advisor summoned me," he answered nonchalantly, leading the beast by the bridle.
"Did a general's post open up?" Her voice was laced with mockery, and her eyes glinted with mischief.
"Hah... no," the warrior smiled. "They're preparing an expedition. Asked me to escort it."
"Far? For long?" she continued with interest, devoid of any joy.
"To the north, for about thirty days." This was his personal calculation, including a dozen days of travel each way. "They're planning something in Mermer's lands... It's quiet there, they say," he reacted to her vague, thoughtful squint.
"The whole squad? Into the mountains?" He grew inwardly wary of her perceptiveness.
"Yes, well, not exactly. The royal guard is short on commanders," Tefis joked, hiding his uncertainty. He didn't want to frighten his wife with the final objective. This approach transformed her worried face.
"Oh," she exclaimed in surprise, her mouth forming a circle. She overtook him and stood in his path. "And you were just passing by and happened to get roped in?"
"What's to be done?" Shrugging, the serviceman tried to look unfazed. "An order is an order."
"Again, again! Let's go!" The casual atmosphere and the children's shouts put an end to any further questions. And while the demands for entertainment did not cease, it was difficult to get anything concrete out of him. But the feelings of mistrust and anxiety, hidden beneath the parents' smiles, had not disappeared.
"Alright, go on and play for a while..."
By supper, the trio had returned home to a set table. A salad of boiled, year-old tubers and a little meat was not something everyone could afford at this time of year. Leftover grain and decoctions of bark with added tree sap helped them get by. And as for making porridge and baking bread from what was on hand—that was a daily task for any homemaker.
"Why not a horse?" Vilen asked, pointing his spoon out the window at the tethered oril.
"They are hornless, and these, as you can see, have their whole necks covered in them. No hooves... And besides, that's all just fairy tales," Tefis explained patiently.
"What about unicorns?"
"Them too. Now eat!"
...
A light creak of leather equipment and a sharp step echoed, breaking the benumbed silence. Following the servants' directions, the guest turned left and passed under a wide arch into the spacious palace vestibule. The anteroom, awash in the evening sun, greeted him with the clutter of ongoing work. Noticing a lone silhouette at a carved desk, the subordinate straightened up and announced crisply:
"Tefis Galfin, commander of Lord Poner Istor's third squad, has arrived as you commanded!" Appearing before the king's military advisor himself for the first time, the soldier felt out of place. Firis Fold did not stir.
"At ease," the short, forty-year-old man, settled in a comfortable armchair, commanded indifferently.
Pausing for a moment with an armful of manuscripts, he looked over the warrior's appearance. The haste with which he had arrived was demonstrated by the dried mud on his boot-tops. The worn scabbard and rough, calloused features could tell tales of various tribulations. Most importantly, they presented a man who did not shy away from putting in the effort for the cause. Something that was lacking in the court commanders in their gleaming armor, sitting idly in the rear. Such a contrast elicited an involuntary sigh of regret from him.
Setting the stack aside and selecting some notes from among the scattered papers, the official leaned back. The high back of the chair creaked softly, accepting the important figure. Refreshing his memory of the commander's file, he glanced at him again and laced his fingers across his chest.
"Thirty-two years old and still a decurion… Does your benefactor truly not value his heroes?"
"No, not at all. The Lord is quite generous," came the confident, indignant reply to the sarcastic remark. But, not wishing to seem a favorite, he chose to keep silent about the farm where he served and his family lived.
"Ahem," an unexpected dry cough interrupted the conversation. A gaunt youth in noble attire emerged cautiously from a slightly ajar door. The young man's frail and unhealthy appearance made the officer frown in sympathy. Some beggars looked far healthier, despite their rags. Placing one of the scrolls down, the sickly fellow began to sort through the scattered documents.
"Girgil, be so good as to bring the draft maps," the seated man dismissed the poor soul, watching as he, starting in surprise, slowly disappeared through the doorway.
Taking advantage of the aristocrat's distraction, the serviceman surveyed the ornate surroundings. The opportunity to be in Zantim—the capital of Parfemin—was rare. And to gaze upon the royal chambers—that had never happened. The pass-through hall next to the vestibule, with its almost mirror-like floor, offered no chance to relax. In addition, the intricate patterns of the rich tapestries and the full-length curtains on the windows would have astounded many.
"And so," the nobleman began, after a pause to gather his thoughts. "There is a mountain of work," he added with regret, misinterpreting the guest's glancing around. He himself took no pleasure in holding a meeting in a corridor that resembled a library in the middle of a move. However, there was no time to lament the circumstances; business, business above all. "What do you know of the Golskape Mountains?"
"M-mm, nothing," the soldier responded, pulled from his reverie, slightly embarrassed. His thoughts were currently far from the norms of courtly etiquette. And he certainly hadn't had occasion to think about some unknown lands shrouded in gossip. How could he know anything of substance about them? Or had someone been slandering him?
"Nothing at all?" the cunning man inquired insistently.
The declared war on old superstitions had made people wary of mentioning legends...
"Sir! My lord's lands lie to the southwest. And we have no cause to venture into other regions, let alone beyond the northern ridge, without specific orders," the warrior, baffled by this persistence, explained, spreading his hands. He wasn't about to report on rumors, was he?
"Alright, let's leave it," the interrogator muttered as if to himself, tapping his fingers. "Perhaps I started on the wrong foot," he hesitated. "A great deal has happened lately. But when was it ever different?" The advisor's smirk betrayed his nervousness. "Yes, one thing leads to another. And your direct participation could help unravel this tangle."
"Sir?..." A silently raised palm stopped the soldier's questioning objection.
"Don't be hasty… His Majesty, as you know, does not tolerate fairy tales. Especially those that hinder progress. And the fables about the mountains allow some to stir up trouble. We have no need for sabotage and rebellion. Therefore, a scientific expedition must officially confirm they are baseless. Moreover, my sources only confirm the absurdity of these fabrications…"
"If everything is already clear, then…" the guard began uncertainly, then quickly collected himself and blurted out, "How can I be of service?"
"Well... A minor reconnaissance, nothing compared to deep research and the recognition of our neighbors. A demonstration of unity, at least on this issue, will help strengthen a fragile peace. But if something worthwhile is found there, disputes will be unavoidable," he paused, then stressed with annoyance, "Eliminating internal strife will not rule out the possibility of war… We must be more vigilant with representatives of other countries. And your border experience will be useful."
Tefis flinched internally. The frontline with the kingdom of Fled he had mostly defended from lost wanderers and street urchins. And all his merits had been earned fending off animal attacks and threats from local hooligans.
"Here," fortunately, the youth's reedy voice broke the confusion brewing in the hero's mind. Now it was the nobleman who felt the tension of the clumsy arrangement of the scrolls.
"Alright," Firis interrupted the boy's fussing with stern condescension and returned to the conversation. "The task is a delicate one. You are to escort a team of specialists along a proven route." Picking up the sketches of the area, he unfolded a scrap and pointed to the left of a chewed-looking circle that resembled a body of water. "Somewhere in this area, I think, would be a good place to set up. At least there are fish there."
"In this season, yes," glancing briefly at the drawing, the warrior tried to push away the weight of the expectations placed upon him. The northwestern Fort Highlang was marked as the final destination in the lands of Lord Mermer. Above it, a path snaked through a winding gorge, marked with "four to six stops." "Sir, I hope the expedition is scheduled for later? It can be dangerous at the foothills right now. Floods, rockslides."
Squinting, the official quickly recalled recent negotiations.
"Our king, Erigan, wishes to hear an answer as soon as possible. His impetuous nature demands everything at once, but the envoys agreed to a period of forty days. So we have no time to wait for good weather. Besides, the dwarves are participating, despite the risks."
"Um, here… the full roster," selecting a sheet, he slid it across the table toward the soldier and tapped it preemptively. With a jingle of his gear, the brave man carefully took the list of names and their descriptions. It was not in his nature to cherish the records laid out here. But the content, and who had provided it, played a significant role.
"In short," the advisor began to hurry him, not waiting for him to read the entire list. "You will be assigned four guards. They are young and promising. Additionally, on the way, in Frix, you will meet representatives from the other states. All of you together will be more than enough to defeat even a wild kasgir. And the healer…"
"Hmph, elves..." Tefis grumbled quietly, stumbling upon the mention of the Isil Empire. The presence of the forest dwellers, renowned for their impatience with other races, seemed outlandish. However, to fight predators hungry after a long hibernation, anyone would do.
"Yes, yes, elv—No," the lecturer, who had been gaining momentum, interrupted himself and rose from his chair. "El'ny! Remember, El-ny! And don't you dare call any of them that," a lump in his throat cut short his preemptive warning. "And yet… A scandal is unavoidable here. Nevertheless, they are as important an ally as Fled." Feeling a swelling in his legs, he began to pace.
Meanwhile, the scope of potential problems grew weightier before the commander's eyes. And while he discontentedly pondered this scheme, the official was measuring out an acceptable payment for it:
"I understand. If you had a choice, you would stay with your wife and children. Unfortunately, there are not many whom one can entrust with such a matter. You see for yourself, I have to dig through archives so as not to miss anything. For the success of this expedition is of great importance… not just for the state. To you, personally, I can provide more options, up to a change of employment. Including a full relocation with your family, wherever you wish."
Tefis tore his eyes from the paper and stared at him intently. From his reaction, the shrewd man immediately guessed his conclusions were correct. A simple man needed freedom. After all, he still had eight years left of his service. And he already had his own small farm that brought in a decent income. What more does one need for a quiet life?
"You will have time to consider and study the proposals. Of course, everything depends on the results and consequences. By the way, here is a preliminary draft of the reward," he pulled out a new document and handed it to the bewildered man. "You can apply for the position of head of one of the royal squads, and there are several worthy appointments in other cities."
"Pardon me, but I would prefer to remain in the service of Lord Poner," the loyal subordinate replied, glancing at the manuscript. He was in no hurry to swallow the tempting bait. Who knew with these aristocrats: one day they roll out the red carpet for you, and the next they could throw you in prison for desertion. And to hear such a thing from the mouth of the second man after the king, practically a general, was highly suspicious.
"I appreciate your loyalty and restraint, yet I ask you not to be shy in expressing your own preferences. I also have a post in my own department. You would only have to leave home occasionally for small missions." Fold's eyes latched sharply onto the warrior's stern gaze, catching the fleeting confusion in it. Then he awkwardly twitched the corners of his mouth and looked at the pile of papers.
"Mm, my request remains the same," his position as a family man already seemed like a fairy tale. It pleased him to return every day and watch his sons grow. To fall asleep in the arms of his beloved, without reproaches about another departure. Therefore, he had no desire to trade this for illusory opportunities.
"Very well, very well," the reserved man replied, shaking his head, and began to rummage on the table again, ignoring his assistant's presence. "If there are no objections to the roster, here are the papers for provisions and equipment. And these are the orders to transfer the guards to your command. And the appointments for the priest and the healer. The blacksmiths from Shofu have promised to prepare the tools, and in Ester, you will hire laborers as needed. You will also replenish your supplies there."
Firis continued to slide sheet after sheet until a hefty stack formed in Tefis's hands. The superior's mountain of paperwork had almost disappeared. A real headache lay ahead: sorting through all this without missing a single detail or forgetting any of the instructions. Only a dozen men, equipped like a reconnaissance squad, but the work with them was shaping up to be considerable. It was much simpler to command a regular formation.
"For assistance, I will send Lorin, the royal cartographer. You will have to find geologists in the local mines from the provided list. In a pinch, for a reward, you can hire someone along the way. That's all for the official part… Do you have any questions?"
"Aren't the dwarves enough?"
It couldn't be said that the kingdom lacked specialists. But no one would dare dispute the dwarves' knowledge of the subterranean depths.
"They are true professionals, and the short folk don't arouse my mistrust," he noted in a friendly tone. "But formally, our people must be present in the group. And there will be other expeditions later… This campaign shouldn't be canceled because of some minor troubles. In the end, your report on everything that happens on the trip will be sufficient for me. Lastly, here are all the directives I just mentioned," the administrator pointed to a single list lying alone.
"Then I have no more questions," the serviceman saluted, showing no hesitation. "Shall I proceed?"
"Yes, yes. But first, take new orils and go to your family for two days. And then… no, better yet, just return to me. The wagons with the equipment will be ready by then."
"In that case, may I leave the papers with you? You see… the situation at home is not conducive to storing important documents," Tefis didn't want to tremble over every scrap of paper during his allotted leave. And who knew what might happen on the road. Besides, the children would need watching. A stock of incomprehensible squiggles wouldn't lie idle for long.
"Of course," the advisor nodded. "Just don't forget your appointment orders and your pass. Give the rest to Girgil, he'll keep them until your return... By the way, I'll assign him to you. Something needs to be delivered to Liski, personally into Urshil's hands. He can also help you in the beginning," he cast a quick glance at the frail youth. "Let him get some air..."
Сhapter 2.***
A half-day's journey past Kholga and beyond a familiar treeline, Tefis's home village came into view. The stone-cold palace corridors, imbued with fragrant scents, were far behind. But even compared to the hills he had just crossed, where a cool wind had blown, the air here felt different. The aromas of the farmyard could hardly compete with the smell of thawing earth and last year's leaves. After surviving the winter, everything was returning to its familiar rhythm.
In anticipation of his own hearth, the warrior urged his mount on with a heavy, short sigh. Passing through the gates and waving to his fellow soldiers as he went, he galloped on, leaving the hustle and bustle behind. The sturdy houses, not standing out much against the high surrounding fence, looked peaceful. And the sounds of an anvil briskly hammered away the tension from his meeting with the advisor.
Workers were still busy at one of the large pens, distracted by the rider's appearance. But the squeaking of the fluffy balls, gathered by the children behind the enclosure, left them no choice. The seasonal shearing of the helpless kholoks was in full swing. The growing down on these creatures eventually robbed them of their mobility, which is why the small, eared critters did not live long in the wild.
"Tefis?" a familiar, clear voice made the women emerging from a small barn stop in their tracks. "Did something happen?"
Milan, handing the shears to her assistant, wiped her hands on her rough apron and stepped through the gate. Wavy, dark-blonde strands of hair escaped from under her gray headband. She looked at him with surprise, her brow furrowed amusingly. Her husband's hasty arrival, without the wagon train of wool that should have been sent with him, was cause for concern.
"No," he winced, remembering the caravan picking up goods in the capital, and shook his head as he dismounted. "Everything's... fine. I just... wanted to see you."
Looking at the horseman's carefree expression, his wife tilted her head appraisingly. Finding nothing amiss, she waved it away and addressed the others. "We can finish for today... Aliri, will you watch over things?" Nodding to her still assistant, she called to the children, "Vilen, Lurt! Where are you? Father's back!"
"Ooh!" a five-year-old boy shot out from behind the kennels with a cry and ran to meet him, scattering the small animals. Scooping up the sprawling boy, Tefis sat him in the saddle. The little rascal immediately grabbed the worn horns on the oril's spine and shouted gleefully, "Hyaa!"
"Home already?" The older one appeared next, slowly moving away from a pack of his peers. But upon seeing Vilen on the mount, he bolted after them amidst envious muttering.
"You can play tomorrow," their mother remarked wearily and, after watching the pair settle on the mount, tugged impatiently at her husband. "Well?"
"Oh, right... the advisor summoned me," he answered nonchalantly, leading the beast by the bridle.
"Did a general's post open up?" Her voice was laced with mockery, and her eyes glinted with mischief.
"Hah... no," the warrior smiled. "They're preparing an expedition. Asked me to escort it."
"Far? For long?" she continued with interest, devoid of any joy.
"To the north, for about thirty days." This was his personal calculation, including a dozen days of travel each way. "They're planning something in Mermer's lands... It's quiet there, they say," he reacted to her vague, thoughtful squint.
"The whole squad? Into the mountains?" He grew inwardly wary of her perceptiveness.
"Yes, well, not exactly. The royal guard is short on commanders," Tefis joked, hiding his uncertainty. He didn't want to frighten his wife with the final objective. This approach transformed her worried face.
"Oh," she exclaimed in surprise, her mouth forming a circle. She overtook him and stood in his path. "And you were just passing by and happened to get roped in?"
"What's to be done?" Shrugging, the serviceman tried to look unfazed. "An order is an order."
"Again, again! Let's go!" The casual atmosphere and the children's shouts put an end to any further questions. And while the demands for entertainment did not cease, it was difficult to get anything concrete out of him. But the feelings of mistrust and anxiety, hidden beneath the parents' smiles, had not disappeared.
"Alright, go on and play for a while..."
By supper, the trio had returned home to a set table. A salad of boiled, year-old tubers and a little meat was not something everyone could afford at this time of year. Leftover grain and decoctions of bark with added tree sap helped them get by. And as for making porridge and baking bread from what was on hand—that was a daily task for any homemaker.
"Why not a horse?" Vilen asked, pointing his spoon out the window at the tethered oril.
"They are hornless, and these, as you can see, have their whole necks covered in them. No hooves... And besides, that's all just fairy tales," Tefis explained patiently.
"What about unicorns?"
"Them too. Now eat!"
...
Сhapter 1. The First Trials.
A cool wind lazily pushed at their backs. A cart, listing from side to side, trudged unhurriedly along the broken, thawed ruts. Beside it, four horsemen trod, guarding its peaceful passage. A sparse copse led from the village to the edge of the steppe plains, over which hung a gray sky. And ahead, from behind the gentle hills, the thin fences of the fields crept into view by the boundary strips. It was the fifth time today they had to traverse this route.
Weary of the routine, Thefis sighed with resignation, gazing intently at the familiar landscape. His chest filled with the damp, earthy air, carrying the scent of last year's leaves. Perhaps this eased the tension. But the responsibility for the cargo covered their weathered brows with sweat. And even the proximity of the lord's manor brought no relief in the season when hungry predators awaken.
Suddenly, the familiar trills coming from the edge of the grove fell silent. The commander calmly pulled on the reins and, raising a hand, halted the detachment. The steed, with rows of spines on its back, shifted restlessly on its two-toed feet. And as if in response to this wariness, a flock of birds burst from the tops of the bare trees. Following them, a sharp gust of wind carried the smell of burning. The brutes in the harness began to wheeze in discontent. And from beyond the forest, a pale wisp of smoke began to rise.
"Hold the line!" Thefis commanded in a steady voice, turning to the agitated animals. "Ermal! Find out what's over there… Be careful!" he added after the dismounted rider, who was making his way through the scraggly thickets.
No sooner had the scout's back disappeared among the flickering branches than his voice carried from within: "It's burning. Burni-i-ing!" The surging cry was replaced by the crunch of dry bushes. Dashing out to the detachment, he swallowed hard and, pointing behind him, said: "The lord's estate… it's on fire."
The smoke thickened before their eyes. By the time the cart got around the thicket, the cargo from the previous trips—everything would be ashes. The recent rumor about arson… A diversionary tactic? An abandoned wagon train was easy prey. But there were four such wagons there… Come on, lads, don't let me down.
"Watch the cart!" the commander ordered and broke into a gallop.
Turning into the nearest clearing and galloping across it, he emerged into a field. At the other end of the overgrown pasture, indistinct silhouettes, having poured out of the gate, were barely visible. Judging by the buildings, glowing from the blaze, the fire had flared up in full force. The upper part of the stockade near the fire was engulfed in flames. Someone was running along the walls, beating it out with whatever was at hand, preventing it from spreading further. The rest of the crowd was still heading down towards the gully.
Thefis continued to watch helplessly as he approached the tragedy. A group of men disappeared into the courtyard with buckets. But instead of results, the sound of a muffled thunderclap rang out. The ignited fence exploded, the unexpected sight knocking his steed from its brisk pace. A chorus of screams and a jumble of thoughts, trying to make sense of the situation, shot through him to his fingertips, forcing him to stare at the scene in a daze. A wave of heat hit his face, and a cloud of smoke spread across the ground. The efforts seemed futile.
“Demonic machinations?!” it flashed through his mind. A moment later, a roaring pillar of fire appeared in the passageway amidst scattered people and shattered logs. "Axes! Cut down everything around! Don't let it spread!"
"Thefis! Skrek take you, what are you babbling about?! The lord will have my head!" yelled the local steward, standing safely behind the fence.
"I'll skin you alive myself," a displeased bass rumbled, showing shades of despair. "J-just look what you've allowed to happen, you gaping fool!" Against the backdrop of the blazing warehouse, the formidable but doomed figure of Poner cast a shadow. Assessing the disaster amidst the recovering townsfolk, he pulled himself together. Ignoring the prostrate servant and wincing at the choice, the lord reluctantly waved towards the nearest buildings: "Tear them down... Come on, come on, get to work!"
Several skilled men grabbed ladders and tools. A pair headed for the log structures, while the commander, out of habit, decided to inspect the smithy. But it had already been cleared out, and he found nothing but a discarded shovel. Hoping to find at least a hammer, he looked behind the forge and stumbled upon some boy. The boy stared in fright, got up, and, backing away, fell onto his back.
"What are you doing here?"
From the clumsy landing, the kid whimpered and began to mumble something: "I, I did nothing," the jumbled explanation seemed strange to the commander. His clothes were stained with something green and gave off an unidentifiable smell against the background of the smoke.
"You should get away from here," Thefis said. Noticing the remaining water in a barrel, he decided to wet his forehead, and some of the splashes flew onto the boy. But the boy jerked and cried out:
"Agh, no, don't!" Tiny sparks sizzled across the stains, causing him to twist and squirm on the ground.
"Now what's this," the commander quickly grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, tore off his shirt, and pushed the fire victim out into the square.
"Please, it wasn't me, I didn't mean to!" he pleaded for mercy, glancing around at every figure that surrounded him.
"What is this?" the lord, standing nearby, barely had time to express his surprise before logs that had broken from the walls came rolling towards him. "Pah... lock him in the cellar!"
"What are you doing, you monsters! My one and only child..." a woman's voice carried from the direction of the manor, but it was cut off by the piercing sound of a horn from the main road.
From the right side of the fork, an ornate carriage was rapidly approaching. A dozen horsemen in royal livery galloped in formation behind it. The wagon train, which had just come into view, barely managed to swerve into the mud at the crossroads to let the procession pass.
The carriage screeched to a halt at the gate. A short man jumped out, shaking the freshly caked mud from his boots. He grimaced, either from the acrid smoke or from the sight before him.
The same thing here, too, he thought and exhaled wearily, shifting his gaze to Poner. "Sorry I'm late," he said. In an instant, all his rushing had lost its meaning. All that was left was to state the fact.
Whispers rippled from the side: "The Advisor… the military advisor…"
"Firis?" Taking the apology as mockery, the master barely restrained himself from cursing. "Decided to come admire the spectacle?"
The nobleman condescendingly ignored the jab. His gaze fell upon the youth sitting dejectedly on the ground, then on the flames and the workers.
"Strange smoke," the distinguished guest said quietly. "What were you storing in there?"
Poner froze, his anger replaced by bewilderment.
"It was empty, Your Grace," a man wheezed, coughing, as he threw down a soot-covered beam. "We just carried out the last of the goods for the capital merchants."
Firis turned to the trembling boy and looked at him intently. Assessing the poor wretch as the instigator, he crouched before him and said in a level, emotionless voice:
"By the looks of it, Lord Poner wants to have a serious talk with you. Mmm, with a birch rod… But I want to hear a story. If it's a true one, you will remain alive. Choose."
The boy gulped convulsively, looking at the advisor as his only salvation.
"A man… he gave me a bottle and… a bundle, said to return it to the warehouse! I didn't know what was in it…"
"What other man?!" Poner roared, looking around for a suitable stick. "Flog him! He'll tell us everything!"
"I'm afraid he will indeed tell you whatever you wish. But will it be the truth?" Firis interjected, rising. His voice had become cold again. He addressed the boy: "Who was it? Describe him."
"In a dark cloak, with a scar… he said the lord himself had asked…" the boy faltered, his mouth open, his eyes filling with the bitterness of fear.
"Wha-at?!" the lord strode indignantly towards the boy, but he was stopped.
"Poner," Firis's quiet and calm voice was surprisingly firm. "This is the third such incident this year. And there were four more last year." Everyone remembered the loss of the harvest on the neighboring estate, but the other incidents had been almost forgotten in its shadow. "Someone is methodically destroying landowners' storehouses. A little longer, and I would have had them in my grasp."
Suppressing his frustration, he made a barely perceptible gesture. His guardsmen did not move, but their backs straightened, and their gazes hardened. The master's guards, sensing this change, froze.
"If this were ordinary hooliganism, I wouldn't be here," the advisor concluded, looking the lord directly in the eye. "And this boy is the only thread we have. So please, do not interfere with my work."
"Not the only one," Thefis spoke up. "I saw a stranger at the gate this morning, though only for a moment. He was a mercenary, didn't look like a local. I think many will confirm it."
"Yes, yes," voices from the men chimed in. "And the boy is one of ours… The cook's son. He wouldn't do something like this."
"Observant, then. Good, you'll ride with me," the advisor tasked the commander with a hint of mockery, and gave an order to one of his escorts: "Inspector! You will stay and oversee everything here."
Gritting his teeth, Poner remained silent. Realizing that his objections were futile, he glanced at Thefis and nodded thoughtfully in agreement.
Сhapter 2. State Intrigues.
Firis returned to the capital, displeased. Gazing at the dreary landscape rushing by, he couldn't get the ill-fated circumstances out of his head. The tardiness of the messengers, the slowness of his own conclusions, the carriage... The whole trip had proven pointless. Only Lord Poner, as yet another fire victim, could now be easily crossed off the list of suspects. But precious time had been lost, and the investigation had hit a dead end.
The royal castle greeted him with soulless solitude. Only the echo of his own presence answered in the spacious front hall. The day was passing in vain. Sending the rest of his retinue with Thefis to the barracks, the advisor decided to have a meal.
"How is Erigan occupied?"
A problem left to its own devices was not something he wanted to report to his sovereign. However, he had to account for using the detachment for his own purposes.
"His Majesty is still on the hunt, sire," the elderly chamberlain resembled a sagging, tied-back curtain. Utterly indifferent to everything around him, he could be hiding many local secrets.
"Is anyone left in the palace?"
"Perhaps in the chambers or the library," — this would allow him to dig through the records stored here more peacefully.
"Very well. I will be in the archives. Order meat to be served in the enfilade and tell the commandant to bring the new man, Galfin. But later. First, the meat!"
As expected, the search for mentions of unusual incendiary mixtures yielded nothing. The opinion of specialists was required. The inspector's reports, delivered later, also failed to provide any clarity. Smirking at the contradictory testimonies, Firis had already despaired of extracting any use from them. But a light creak of leather gear and a sharp footstep broke the numb silence with an echo.
Following the guard's directions, the witness turned left and walked alone under the wide arch of the palace vestibule. The side-room, flooded with the evening sun, greeted him with a state of working disarray. Noticing the lone silhouette at the carved table, the subordinate straightened up and crisply announced:
"Thefis Galfin, commander of the third detachment of Lord Poner Istor, has arrived at your command!" Standing before the king's own military advisor, the soldier felt out of place.
"At ease," the short man of about forty, settled in a comfortable chair, commanded indifferently.
Pausing for a moment with a handful of manuscripts, he looked the warrior over, recalling the recent events. The man, surprisingly, was holding himself calmly compared to their meeting at the estate. Dried mud was still visible on his trousers. And his uniform, against the polished floor and bright tapestries, looked worn. The court dandies in their shining armor would never have allowed such a thing for themselves.
Catching the guest's wandering gaze, the official realized his own carelessness. The papers scattered across the table and the dirty plates on the side table were slightly embarrassing. However, he could not let anyone else find him in such a state.
"I hope they fed you," he inquired casually, gathering the manuscripts into a pile and, receiving a short nod, he shouted into the void: "A scullery maid, here, quickly!" — and, without delay, moved on to business: "I recall you noted the mercenary was not a local. Why?"
"I know many people in the vicinity of Holga. And as for the lord's estate…"
"I see," the advisor stopped him, pondering a suitable question, but the man wouldn't be quieted:
"Yes, his cloak was rich, the boots unworn…" — the soldier's testimony, like the papers he'd been sent, was not very eloquent. Which made the official hesitate to ask leading questions.
"That doesn't help. I need details: materials, shapes, colors. Understand! There are enough faces with scars in every tavern. And many are dressed no worse than I, or even the king himself," he looked at the map, considering possible locations for the arsonist to appear. Sending the commander on a patrol of the taverns might be useful. But that would take time.
"If I saw him, I would immediately…"
"Indeed. That is why you are here. By the way, I've studied the reports on the arson. And you know, there is one amusing detail in them. According to the steward, it seems Poner himself made the important decision and prevented the fire. However, several workers mention a brave decurion who burst in at the height of the disaster," Firis embellished slightly, but the essence remained the same.
"Well, no… perhaps they misspoke," Thefis didn't want to expose the steward. Even if he were demoted, the new one wouldn't be any better. And the men were an understanding lot, though not always sensible. Besides, it was unknown how the lord himself pictured the scene.
This hesitation did not escape the tenacious interrogator. "I know Poner well. And however strained our meeting may have seemed to you, he is quite capable. But the matter isn't…"
"Litherin?" From the direction of the front hall came a crystal-clear voice, and with it, a trail of sweet fragrance. The source of the sound and scent rustled past the soldier, the elegant lines of her attire, and stood with her back to him.
Firis leaped from his chair, frantically searching for words: "Your… how? You are here?" — another problem that had befallen the entire kingdom. After this personage's appearance, not a single important event occurred without her involvement. And it was no longer worth assuming she had ridden off with the king.
"And where else would I be?" the guest replied imperturbably. Her magnificent waist was tantalizingly covered by a translucent robe and voluminous sleeves. "What is the matter with you?"
The question remained unanswered as a whispering but vivid exclamation interrupted their meeting.
"Her," engrossed in his hopeless search for unique features, Thefis pointed at the stranger's robe. And upon discerning ribbed, pointed ears beneath the silky strands of hair, he couldn't restrain a gasp of astonishment: "An elf?"
The girl whirled around and rang with indignation: "Control yourself!"
Her glassy gaze bored into the insolent man with bright shards of iris. This threw the commander even further off balance, as did the velvety skin of a strangely childlike, yet quite stern face.
"Princess, I apologize for this uncouth brute," the advisor, unseen by the elf, extended a fist in the direction of the stunned Galfin. And as soon as she turned her attention back to him, he bowed.
"Your attacks on my father and most of the Eln have valid grounds. But this… has gone too far," preparing to leave, she turned, but the troublemaker fell to his knees before her.
"I meant… that is, your dress…" he raised his head and, once again struck by the sight, fell into a stupor. As far as he could tell, neither young girls nor children could possess such chiseled features.
"What is this madman talking about?" disconcerted by such a contrast, she stepped back, glancing from one to the other.
"Thefis Galfin! Attention! Report in form!"
The sharp command brought the dazed man back to reality, and he jumped to his feet. "The pattern of this material is like the mercenary's cloak!"
"Litherin?! E-explain yourself!" the princess demanded insistently.
"There are no Litherins here, nor any synod. I'll remind you, my name is Firis Fold. You can just call me Advisor. And you see..." he wanted to say that these were internal state affairs. But the new details hinted at the involvement of the elves. "Lady Allorah, er, Your Highness. The kingdom is in turmoil, and I would not wish to trouble you with extra problems. And this… is just one of the witnesses. He saw something, perhaps he was mistaken."
"No, I definitely saw…"
A slam on the table cut him off.
"Decurion!" the royal dignitary's voice rasped hoarsely. "One more word, and…"
"Oh, come now, Advisor," the princess interrupted playfully. "Do you think I don't know you've had arsonists running rampant for two years now? Besides, conducting business here…"
"Ahem, the archives… are dusty. And the study… What is the matter, precisely?" The flustered would-be investigator quickly recovered, earning a sympathetic glance from the elf. Shaking her head, Allorah turned to the culprit:
"And what is so wrong with my dress?" Approaching closer, she caused the commander's face to twitch with tension. "Don't be afraid, I don't bite."
"Th-this material… it's unmistakable," — like fish scales, the fabric shimmered with movement in a characteristic pattern of waves, somewhat resembling marble or the grain of wood.
"Such fabric is woven only in the workshops of Isil; no one trades in it. It seems your suspect is an Eln?" her own conclusion did not surprise her at all. Rather, it was an expectation of the advisor's dawning realization, who did not want to be provoked:
"Perhaps… Or someone wants to make us think so."
"Don't be a fool," displeased with such reasoning, the princess looked at him with reproach. "I have already warned you and your king about my father's plans. Whoever is behind this, it is all in his interest."
"Yes, but we do not know the true goals of this third party. And it is unclear what you want from us. Why this sudden trust?" Squinting cunningly, he did not expect honesty, but he was not going to give up either. "We can't very well overthrow the Emperor—that's ridiculous. If it were his will, there would be nothing left of the kingdom."
"If I could, I would simply inherit the throne. And you… why did you agree to help me? Did you deceive me?"
"Believe me, supporting an ally is our sacred duty. I merely wish to know more about your problem. And now…"
"While you're here deciding whether to believe me or not, and fussing with your own affairs, the Eln will occupy Gholscape. Your Parthemin will be next. Then all the ridges of Orken will be in their power. And from there, it's not far to Fled and the dwarves. Or do you need me to prove the existence of slaves in Isil?"
"Since when did you develop a love for mountains? Besides, Gholscape is a barren land. Not even vagrants linger there. As the song goes: 'In the desolate valley... only slime in the mire' — I believe that's how it goes… A grim place. And as you've seen, we don't have many forests to settle you here."
"Just a song? Is that how you interpret the lines of the ancient Lore? It is the path to rebirth: 'Where once only stones drowsed wearily, trees shall rise again, as in life's beginning'," she paused, trying to wrinkle her smooth forehead. "The Great Tree of Isil has given a new sprout. If it is planted in the wastelands…" — from Firis's grimace, it was clear he understood everything. This was a plan calculated to span decades. But an elf, whose life lasted a few centuries, could afford to wait.
"Is he… seriously trying to fulfill the prophecy?" Forcing a people to worship a monarch as if he were a god seemed risky to the official. Such a high bar literally demanded miracles. But one shouldn't miss the opportunity to be near something so sublime. And Erigan, who wished to eradicate the old legends, much to his regret, was sorely lacking that.
"Hmph-ha-ha-ha, Advisor… Do you really believe in fairy tales? People need faith, and a great ruler must become an inseparable part of it. It is enough to simply get ahead of my father. And with your help, I could establish a settlement there. It's unlikely he would send a strong army against me."
"Why not our king?"
"Well, my dear. You forget that the legend spoke of twelve."
"That number could mean anything: people, beasts, titans. Another reason for a quarrel. We need to unite more than one state for our strength to mean anything against the Emperor. If we send representatives from each country there, their loss will cost him dearly."
"But that will only delay the invasion. Shadul will not remain idle."
"For now, we buy time, and by the next cold season, even our lords will have enough men to repel any attack. As far as I know, your father is still at odds with the kingdom of Nuol. He can't hold two fronts."
"Then to whom will you entrust this matter?"
"Why, to him, for a start!" the advisor nodded towards the warrior frozen by the doorway. There was no other option anyway, even if the man still barely understood where his own testimony had led him. "If he blunders again, he will answer for everything," he said, playing along with the elf, hoping his subordinate would understand him correctly. "And for now… Thefis Galfin, you are dismissed."
"To the... barracks?"
"Home. Do you have a family? As soon as the expedition's composition is determined, I will send for you."
This gave him a chance to think everything over and explain himself to the soldier later. But most importantly, he had found something to distract Erigan with until the search for the saboteurs was complete.
Сhapter 3. The Unknown.
"Ha-ha-ha, you're really something!" the commandant greeted Thefis cheerfully, clapping him on the shoulder with a thick hand. "She, an elf!" the portly man mimicked him, barely calming himself. "Ha-ha, never seen an Eln before?"
"Something like that," the soldier replied, not cheerfully at all, but resentfully, turning to the smirking local guards. Eavesdropping on others' conversations seemed vile to him, but he hated gossip even more. And now, by the looks of it, the entire royal garrison knew about his conversation with the advisor.
"Talk about bad luck," the commandant continued to jeer. "And it would be one thing if it were an ordinary Eln. But to disgrace the elder princess like that."
"So, I called her that... so what? It's not like I called her a Kaskalets," the commander said reservedly, remembering the webbed inhabitants of the far east.
"O-ho-ho, you kill me. You'd have been better off smearing her with mud," clearing his throat, he became overly serious and moved closer. "For you and me... she's an elf and all that... yeah. But in their tongue, it's a curse word," he smiled again. "Ahem, alright, take your oril."
Greeting the morning in the capital, Thefis left the city walls. And by noon, the stone-cold palace corridors, permeated with incense, were far behind. Holga, where small settlements hid among the vast hills and fields dotted with sparse trees, had a feeling all its own. The scent of distant stockyards dissolved into the smoldering smell of thawed earth with wet, withered grass. After the long winter, everything was returning to its familiar rhythm.
Beyond the familiar strip of forest, his home village came into view. Anticipating the warmth of home, the warrior urged his steed on with a short, heavy sigh. At the high gates, his fellow soldiers greeted him matter-of-factly. The sturdy houses, surrounded by a high perimeter fence, looked peaceful. And the sound of the anvil insistently hammered out the worries about the upcoming conversation with his family.
"Well now, hero. How's life in the capital?" the elderly blacksmith called out to the downcast rider.
"Tolerable... Need a hand?"
"Eh, no-o, I won't let you near the anvil with a face like that," tossing the red-hot hoop into the water and putting away his tools, he came out from under the lean-to. "Get down, tell me what else is going on. I have a feeling it wasn't just about the arson."
"I'd better go to my wife."
"Oh, come on, she's a strong one, she can wait a bit. And you have to respect your elders. Besides, she's in no mood for talk, has work for a week straight... Well? What is it?"
"They're gathering an expedition to Gholscape."
"That's the Skrek Mountains?!" the old man frowned, raising his gray eyebrows, then shook his head regretfully. "Well, well. That's not a one-day trip."
"If I return at all," Thefis added and spurred his oril.
"Go on," the blacksmith muttered almost inaudibly after him.
...
A cool wind lazily pushed at their backs. A cart, listing from side to side, trudged unhurriedly along the broken, thawed ruts. Beside it, four horsemen trod, guarding its peaceful passage. A sparse copse led from the village to the edge of the steppe plains, over which hung a gray sky. And ahead, from behind the gentle hills, the thin fences of the fields crept into view by the boundary strips. It was the fifth time today they had to traverse this route.
Weary of the routine, Thefis sighed with resignation, gazing intently at the familiar landscape. His chest filled with the damp, earthy air, carrying the scent of last year's leaves. Perhaps this eased the tension. But the responsibility for the cargo covered their weathered brows with sweat. And even the proximity of the lord's manor brought no relief in the season when hungry predators awaken.
Suddenly, the familiar trills coming from the edge of the grove fell silent. The commander calmly pulled on the reins and, raising a hand, halted the detachment. The steed, with rows of spines on its back, shifted restlessly on its two-toed feet. And as if in response to this wariness, a flock of birds burst from the tops of the bare trees. Following them, a sharp gust of wind carried the smell of burning. The brutes in the harness began to wheeze in discontent. And from beyond the forest, a pale wisp of smoke began to rise.
"Hold the line!" Thefis commanded in a steady voice, turning to the agitated animals. "Ermal! Find out what's over there… Be careful!" he added after the dismounted rider, who was making his way through the scraggly thickets.
No sooner had the scout's back disappeared among the flickering branches than his voice carried from within: "It's burning. Burni-i-ing!" The surging cry was replaced by the crunch of dry bushes. Dashing out to the detachment, he swallowed hard and, pointing behind him, said: "The lord's estate… it's on fire."
The smoke thickened before their eyes. By the time the cart got around the thicket, the cargo from the previous trips—everything would be ashes. The recent rumor about arson… A diversionary tactic? An abandoned wagon train was easy prey. But there were four such wagons there… Come on, lads, don't let me down.
"Watch the cart!" the commander ordered and broke into a gallop.
Turning into the nearest clearing and galloping across it, he emerged into a field. At the other end of the overgrown pasture, indistinct silhouettes, having poured out of the gate, were barely visible. Judging by the buildings, glowing from the blaze, the fire had flared up in full force. The upper part of the stockade near the fire was engulfed in flames. Someone was running along the walls, beating it out with whatever was at hand, preventing it from spreading further. The rest of the crowd was still heading down towards the gully.
Thefis continued to watch helplessly as he approached the tragedy. A group of men disappeared into the courtyard with buckets. But instead of results, the sound of a muffled thunderclap rang out. The ignited fence exploded, the unexpected sight knocking his steed from its brisk pace. A chorus of screams and a jumble of thoughts, trying to make sense of the situation, shot through him to his fingertips, forcing him to stare at the scene in a daze. A wave of heat hit his face, and a cloud of smoke spread across the ground. The efforts seemed futile.
“Demonic machinations?!” it flashed through his mind. A moment later, a roaring pillar of fire appeared in the passageway amidst scattered people and shattered logs. "Axes! Cut down everything around! Don't let it spread!"
"Thefis! Skrek take you, what are you babbling about?! The lord will have my head!" yelled the local steward, standing safely behind the fence.
"I'll skin you alive myself," a displeased bass rumbled, showing shades of despair. "J-just look what you've allowed to happen, you gaping fool!" Against the backdrop of the blazing warehouse, the formidable but doomed figure of Poner cast a shadow. Assessing the disaster amidst the recovering townsfolk, he pulled himself together. Ignoring the prostrate servant and wincing at the choice, the lord reluctantly waved towards the nearest buildings: "Tear them down... Come on, come on, get to work!"
Several skilled men grabbed ladders and tools. A pair headed for the log structures, while the commander, out of habit, decided to inspect the smithy. But it had already been cleared out, and he found nothing but a discarded shovel. Hoping to find at least a hammer, he looked behind the forge and stumbled upon some boy. The boy stared in fright, got up, and, backing away, fell onto his back.
"What are you doing here?"
From the clumsy landing, the kid whimpered and began to mumble something: "I, I did nothing," the jumbled explanation seemed strange to the commander. His clothes were stained with something green and gave off an unidentifiable smell against the background of the smoke.
"You should get away from here," Thefis said. Noticing the remaining water in a barrel, he decided to wet his forehead, and some of the splashes flew onto the boy. But the boy jerked and cried out:
"Agh, no, don't!" Tiny sparks sizzled across the stains, causing him to twist and squirm on the ground.
"Now what's this," the commander quickly grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, tore off his shirt, and pushed the fire victim out into the square.
"Please, it wasn't me, I didn't mean to!" he pleaded for mercy, glancing around at every figure that surrounded him.
"What is this?" the lord, standing nearby, barely had time to express his surprise before logs that had broken from the walls came rolling towards him. "Pah... lock him in the cellar!"
"What are you doing, you monsters! My one and only child..." a woman's voice carried from the direction of the manor, but it was cut off by the piercing sound of a horn from the main road.
From the right side of the fork, an ornate carriage was rapidly approaching. A dozen horsemen in royal livery galloped in formation behind it. The wagon train, which had just come into view, barely managed to swerve into the mud at the crossroads to let the procession pass.
The carriage screeched to a halt at the gate. A short man jumped out, shaking the freshly caked mud from his boots. He grimaced, either from the acrid smoke or from the sight before him.
The same thing here, too, he thought and exhaled wearily, shifting his gaze to Poner. "Sorry I'm late," he said. In an instant, all his rushing had lost its meaning. All that was left was to state the fact.
Whispers rippled from the side: "The Advisor… the military advisor…"
"Firis?" Taking the apology as mockery, the master barely restrained himself from cursing. "Decided to come admire the spectacle?"
The nobleman condescendingly ignored the jab. His gaze fell upon the youth sitting dejectedly on the ground, then on the flames and the workers.
"Strange smoke," the distinguished guest said quietly. "What were you storing in there?"
Poner froze, his anger replaced by bewilderment.
"It was empty, Your Grace," a man wheezed, coughing, as he threw down a soot-covered beam. "We just carried out the last of the goods for the capital merchants."
Firis turned to the trembling boy and looked at him intently. Assessing the poor wretch as the instigator, he crouched before him and said in a level, emotionless voice:
"By the looks of it, Lord Poner wants to have a serious talk with you. Mmm, with a birch rod… But I want to hear a story. If it's a true one, you will remain alive. Choose."
The boy gulped convulsively, looking at the advisor as his only salvation.
"A man… he gave me a bottle and… a bundle, said to return it to the warehouse! I didn't know what was in it…"
"What other man?!" Poner roared, looking around for a suitable stick. "Flog him! He'll tell us everything!"
"I'm afraid he will indeed tell you whatever you wish. But will it be the truth?" Firis interjected, rising. His voice had become cold again. He addressed the boy: "Who was it? Describe him."
"In a dark cloak, with a scar… he said the lord himself had asked…" the boy faltered, his mouth open, his eyes filling with the bitterness of fear.
"Wha-at?!" the lord strode indignantly towards the boy, but he was stopped.
"Poner," Firis's quiet and calm voice was surprisingly firm. "This is the third such incident this year. And there were four more last year." Everyone remembered the loss of the harvest on the neighboring estate, but the other incidents had been almost forgotten in its shadow. "Someone is methodically destroying landowners' storehouses. A little longer, and I would have had them in my grasp."
Suppressing his frustration, he made a barely perceptible gesture. His guardsmen did not move, but their backs straightened, and their gazes hardened. The master's guards, sensing this change, froze.
"If this were ordinary hooliganism, I wouldn't be here," the advisor concluded, looking the lord directly in the eye. "And this boy is the only thread we have. So please, do not interfere with my work."
"Not the only one," Thefis spoke up. "I saw a stranger at the gate this morning, though only for a moment. He was a mercenary, didn't look like a local. I think many will confirm it."
"Yes, yes," voices from the men chimed in. "And the boy is one of ours… The cook's son. He wouldn't do something like this."
"Observant, then. Good, you'll ride with me," the advisor tasked the commander with a hint of mockery, and gave an order to one of his escorts: "Inspector! You will stay and oversee everything here."
Gritting his teeth, Poner remained silent. Realizing that his objections were futile, he glanced at Thefis and nodded thoughtfully in agreement.
Сhapter 2. State Intrigues.
Firis returned to the capital, displeased. Gazing at the dreary landscape rushing by, he couldn't get the ill-fated circumstances out of his head. The tardiness of the messengers, the slowness of his own conclusions, the carriage... The whole trip had proven pointless. Only Lord Poner, as yet another fire victim, could now be easily crossed off the list of suspects. But precious time had been lost, and the investigation had hit a dead end.
The royal castle greeted him with soulless solitude. Only the echo of his own presence answered in the spacious front hall. The day was passing in vain. Sending the rest of his retinue with Thefis to the barracks, the advisor decided to have a meal.
"How is Erigan occupied?"
A problem left to its own devices was not something he wanted to report to his sovereign. However, he had to account for using the detachment for his own purposes.
"His Majesty is still on the hunt, sire," the elderly chamberlain resembled a sagging, tied-back curtain. Utterly indifferent to everything around him, he could be hiding many local secrets.
"Is anyone left in the palace?"
"Perhaps in the chambers or the library," — this would allow him to dig through the records stored here more peacefully.
"Very well. I will be in the archives. Order meat to be served in the enfilade and tell the commandant to bring the new man, Galfin. But later. First, the meat!"
As expected, the search for mentions of unusual incendiary mixtures yielded nothing. The opinion of specialists was required. The inspector's reports, delivered later, also failed to provide any clarity. Smirking at the contradictory testimonies, Firis had already despaired of extracting any use from them. But a light creak of leather gear and a sharp footstep broke the numb silence with an echo.
Following the guard's directions, the witness turned left and walked alone under the wide arch of the palace vestibule. The side-room, flooded with the evening sun, greeted him with a state of working disarray. Noticing the lone silhouette at the carved table, the subordinate straightened up and crisply announced:
"Thefis Galfin, commander of the third detachment of Lord Poner Istor, has arrived at your command!" Standing before the king's own military advisor, the soldier felt out of place.
"At ease," the short man of about forty, settled in a comfortable chair, commanded indifferently.
Pausing for a moment with a handful of manuscripts, he looked the warrior over, recalling the recent events. The man, surprisingly, was holding himself calmly compared to their meeting at the estate. Dried mud was still visible on his trousers. And his uniform, against the polished floor and bright tapestries, looked worn. The court dandies in their shining armor would never have allowed such a thing for themselves.
Catching the guest's wandering gaze, the official realized his own carelessness. The papers scattered across the table and the dirty plates on the side table were slightly embarrassing. However, he could not let anyone else find him in such a state.
"I hope they fed you," he inquired casually, gathering the manuscripts into a pile and, receiving a short nod, he shouted into the void: "A scullery maid, here, quickly!" — and, without delay, moved on to business: "I recall you noted the mercenary was not a local. Why?"
"I know many people in the vicinity of Holga. And as for the lord's estate…"
"I see," the advisor stopped him, pondering a suitable question, but the man wouldn't be quieted:
"Yes, his cloak was rich, the boots unworn…" — the soldier's testimony, like the papers he'd been sent, was not very eloquent. Which made the official hesitate to ask leading questions.
"That doesn't help. I need details: materials, shapes, colors. Understand! There are enough faces with scars in every tavern. And many are dressed no worse than I, or even the king himself," he looked at the map, considering possible locations for the arsonist to appear. Sending the commander on a patrol of the taverns might be useful. But that would take time.
"If I saw him, I would immediately…"
"Indeed. That is why you are here. By the way, I've studied the reports on the arson. And you know, there is one amusing detail in them. According to the steward, it seems Poner himself made the important decision and prevented the fire. However, several workers mention a brave decurion who burst in at the height of the disaster," Firis embellished slightly, but the essence remained the same.
"Well, no… perhaps they misspoke," Thefis didn't want to expose the steward. Even if he were demoted, the new one wouldn't be any better. And the men were an understanding lot, though not always sensible. Besides, it was unknown how the lord himself pictured the scene.
This hesitation did not escape the tenacious interrogator. "I know Poner well. And however strained our meeting may have seemed to you, he is quite capable. But the matter isn't…"
"Litherin?" From the direction of the front hall came a crystal-clear voice, and with it, a trail of sweet fragrance. The source of the sound and scent rustled past the soldier, the elegant lines of her attire, and stood with her back to him.
Firis leaped from his chair, frantically searching for words: "Your… how? You are here?" — another problem that had befallen the entire kingdom. After this personage's appearance, not a single important event occurred without her involvement. And it was no longer worth assuming she had ridden off with the king.
"And where else would I be?" the guest replied imperturbably. Her magnificent waist was tantalizingly covered by a translucent robe and voluminous sleeves. "What is the matter with you?"
The question remained unanswered as a whispering but vivid exclamation interrupted their meeting.
"Her," engrossed in his hopeless search for unique features, Thefis pointed at the stranger's robe. And upon discerning ribbed, pointed ears beneath the silky strands of hair, he couldn't restrain a gasp of astonishment: "An elf?"
The girl whirled around and rang with indignation: "Control yourself!"
Her glassy gaze bored into the insolent man with bright shards of iris. This threw the commander even further off balance, as did the velvety skin of a strangely childlike, yet quite stern face.
"Princess, I apologize for this uncouth brute," the advisor, unseen by the elf, extended a fist in the direction of the stunned Galfin. And as soon as she turned her attention back to him, he bowed.
"Your attacks on my father and most of the Eln have valid grounds. But this… has gone too far," preparing to leave, she turned, but the troublemaker fell to his knees before her.
"I meant… that is, your dress…" he raised his head and, once again struck by the sight, fell into a stupor. As far as he could tell, neither young girls nor children could possess such chiseled features.
"What is this madman talking about?" disconcerted by such a contrast, she stepped back, glancing from one to the other.
"Thefis Galfin! Attention! Report in form!"
The sharp command brought the dazed man back to reality, and he jumped to his feet. "The pattern of this material is like the mercenary's cloak!"
"Litherin?! E-explain yourself!" the princess demanded insistently.
"There are no Litherins here, nor any synod. I'll remind you, my name is Firis Fold. You can just call me Advisor. And you see..." he wanted to say that these were internal state affairs. But the new details hinted at the involvement of the elves. "Lady Allorah, er, Your Highness. The kingdom is in turmoil, and I would not wish to trouble you with extra problems. And this… is just one of the witnesses. He saw something, perhaps he was mistaken."
"No, I definitely saw…"
A slam on the table cut him off.
"Decurion!" the royal dignitary's voice rasped hoarsely. "One more word, and…"
"Oh, come now, Advisor," the princess interrupted playfully. "Do you think I don't know you've had arsonists running rampant for two years now? Besides, conducting business here…"
"Ahem, the archives… are dusty. And the study… What is the matter, precisely?" The flustered would-be investigator quickly recovered, earning a sympathetic glance from the elf. Shaking her head, Allorah turned to the culprit:
"And what is so wrong with my dress?" Approaching closer, she caused the commander's face to twitch with tension. "Don't be afraid, I don't bite."
"Th-this material… it's unmistakable," — like fish scales, the fabric shimmered with movement in a characteristic pattern of waves, somewhat resembling marble or the grain of wood.
"Such fabric is woven only in the workshops of Isil; no one trades in it. It seems your suspect is an Eln?" her own conclusion did not surprise her at all. Rather, it was an expectation of the advisor's dawning realization, who did not want to be provoked:
"Perhaps… Or someone wants to make us think so."
"Don't be a fool," displeased with such reasoning, the princess looked at him with reproach. "I have already warned you and your king about my father's plans. Whoever is behind this, it is all in his interest."
"Yes, but we do not know the true goals of this third party. And it is unclear what you want from us. Why this sudden trust?" Squinting cunningly, he did not expect honesty, but he was not going to give up either. "We can't very well overthrow the Emperor—that's ridiculous. If it were his will, there would be nothing left of the kingdom."
"If I could, I would simply inherit the throne. And you… why did you agree to help me? Did you deceive me?"
"Believe me, supporting an ally is our sacred duty. I merely wish to know more about your problem. And now…"
"While you're here deciding whether to believe me or not, and fussing with your own affairs, the Eln will occupy Gholscape. Your Parthemin will be next. Then all the ridges of Orken will be in their power. And from there, it's not far to Fled and the dwarves. Or do you need me to prove the existence of slaves in Isil?"
"Since when did you develop a love for mountains? Besides, Gholscape is a barren land. Not even vagrants linger there. As the song goes: 'In the desolate valley... only slime in the mire' — I believe that's how it goes… A grim place. And as you've seen, we don't have many forests to settle you here."
"Just a song? Is that how you interpret the lines of the ancient Lore? It is the path to rebirth: 'Where once only stones drowsed wearily, trees shall rise again, as in life's beginning'," she paused, trying to wrinkle her smooth forehead. "The Great Tree of Isil has given a new sprout. If it is planted in the wastelands…" — from Firis's grimace, it was clear he understood everything. This was a plan calculated to span decades. But an elf, whose life lasted a few centuries, could afford to wait.
"Is he… seriously trying to fulfill the prophecy?" Forcing a people to worship a monarch as if he were a god seemed risky to the official. Such a high bar literally demanded miracles. But one shouldn't miss the opportunity to be near something so sublime. And Erigan, who wished to eradicate the old legends, much to his regret, was sorely lacking that.
"Hmph-ha-ha-ha, Advisor… Do you really believe in fairy tales? People need faith, and a great ruler must become an inseparable part of it. It is enough to simply get ahead of my father. And with your help, I could establish a settlement there. It's unlikely he would send a strong army against me."
"Why not our king?"
"Well, my dear. You forget that the legend spoke of twelve."
"That number could mean anything: people, beasts, titans. Another reason for a quarrel. We need to unite more than one state for our strength to mean anything against the Emperor. If we send representatives from each country there, their loss will cost him dearly."
"But that will only delay the invasion. Shadul will not remain idle."
"For now, we buy time, and by the next cold season, even our lords will have enough men to repel any attack. As far as I know, your father is still at odds with the kingdom of Nuol. He can't hold two fronts."
"Then to whom will you entrust this matter?"
"Why, to him, for a start!" the advisor nodded towards the warrior frozen by the doorway. There was no other option anyway, even if the man still barely understood where his own testimony had led him. "If he blunders again, he will answer for everything," he said, playing along with the elf, hoping his subordinate would understand him correctly. "And for now… Thefis Galfin, you are dismissed."
"To the... barracks?"
"Home. Do you have a family? As soon as the expedition's composition is determined, I will send for you."
This gave him a chance to think everything over and explain himself to the soldier later. But most importantly, he had found something to distract Erigan with until the search for the saboteurs was complete.
Сhapter 3. The Unknown.
"Ha-ha-ha, you're really something!" the commandant greeted Thefis cheerfully, clapping him on the shoulder with a thick hand. "She, an elf!" the portly man mimicked him, barely calming himself. "Ha-ha, never seen an Eln before?"
"Something like that," the soldier replied, not cheerfully at all, but resentfully, turning to the smirking local guards. Eavesdropping on others' conversations seemed vile to him, but he hated gossip even more. And now, by the looks of it, the entire royal garrison knew about his conversation with the advisor.
"Talk about bad luck," the commandant continued to jeer. "And it would be one thing if it were an ordinary Eln. But to disgrace the elder princess like that."
"So, I called her that... so what? It's not like I called her a Kaskalets," the commander said reservedly, remembering the webbed inhabitants of the far east.
"O-ho-ho, you kill me. You'd have been better off smearing her with mud," clearing his throat, he became overly serious and moved closer. "For you and me... she's an elf and all that... yeah. But in their tongue, it's a curse word," he smiled again. "Ahem, alright, take your oril."
Greeting the morning in the capital, Thefis left the city walls. And by noon, the stone-cold palace corridors, permeated with incense, were far behind. Holga, where small settlements hid among the vast hills and fields dotted with sparse trees, had a feeling all its own. The scent of distant stockyards dissolved into the smoldering smell of thawed earth with wet, withered grass. After the long winter, everything was returning to its familiar rhythm.
Beyond the familiar strip of forest, his home village came into view. Anticipating the warmth of home, the warrior urged his steed on with a short, heavy sigh. At the high gates, his fellow soldiers greeted him matter-of-factly. The sturdy houses, surrounded by a high perimeter fence, looked peaceful. And the sound of the anvil insistently hammered out the worries about the upcoming conversation with his family.
"Well now, hero. How's life in the capital?" the elderly blacksmith called out to the downcast rider.
"Tolerable... Need a hand?"
"Eh, no-o, I won't let you near the anvil with a face like that," tossing the red-hot hoop into the water and putting away his tools, he came out from under the lean-to. "Get down, tell me what else is going on. I have a feeling it wasn't just about the arson."
"I'd better go to my wife."
"Oh, come on, she's a strong one, she can wait a bit. And you have to respect your elders. Besides, she's in no mood for talk, has work for a week straight... Well? What is it?"
"They're gathering an expedition to Gholscape."
"That's the Skrek Mountains?!" the old man frowned, raising his gray eyebrows, then shook his head regretfully. "Well, well. That's not a one-day trip."
"If I return at all," Thefis added and spurred his oril.
"Go on," the blacksmith muttered almost inaudibly after him.
...
Chapter 1. The First Trials
A cool wind lazily pushed at their backs. A cart, lurching from side to side, dragged itself unhurriedly along the broken, thawed-out rut. Beside it, four horsemen trod, safeguarding its peaceful progress. A sparse copse led from the village to the edge of the steppe expanses, over which hung a gray sky. And ahead, from behind the gentle hills near a boundary strip, the thin fences of the fields crawled into view. It was already the fifth time today they had to traverse this route.
Wearied by the routine, Thefis sighed resignedly, gazing intently at the familiar landscape. The damp, earthy air filled his chest, carrying the scent of last year's leaves. Perhaps this eased the tension. But the responsibility for the cargo brought sweat to their wind-chapped brows. And even the proximity of the lord's estate brought no relief in the season when hungry predators awaken.
Suddenly, the familiar trills coming from the edge of the grove fell silent. The commander calmly tightened the reins and, raising a hand, halted the party. His mount, with rows of spikes along its spine, shifted restlessly on its two-toed feet. And as if in response to this wariness, a flock of birds burst from the tops of the bare trees. Next, a sharp gust carried the smell of burning. The hulking beasts in the harness began to wheeze discontentedly. And from behind the woods, a pale wisp of smoke began to rise.
"Hold formation!" Thefis commanded in a steady voice, turning to the agitated animals. "Yermal! Find out what's going on… Be careful!" he added to the dismounted rider who was making his way through the scraggly thickets.
The scout's back had barely disappeared among the flickering branches when his voice carried back from them: "It's burning. It's bur-r-rning!" The surging cry was replaced by the crunch of dry bushes. Dashing out to the party, he swallowed and, pointing behind him, said: "The lord's estate… is on fire."
The smoke was thickening before their eyes. By the time the cart gets around the thicket, the cargo from the previous trips—it will all burn. The recent rumor about arson… A diversionary tactic? An abandoned wagon is easy prey. But there are four others like it there… Come on, lads, don't let me down.
"Watch the wagon!" the commander ordered and broke into a gallop.
Turning into the nearest clearing and galloping through it, he emerged into a field. At the far end of the overgrown plowland, indistinct silhouettes could be faintly seen pouring from the gates. Judging by the buildings glowing from the blaze, the fire had flared up in full force. The upper part of the stockade near the fire was engulfed in flames. Someone was running along the walls, beating it back with makeshift tools, preventing it from spreading further. The rest of the crowd was still heading down towards the ravine.
Thefis continued to watch helplessly as he approached the tragedy. A group of men disappeared into the courtyard with buckets. But instead of results, the sound of muffled thunder rang out. The ignited fence flew apart, the unexpected sight checking his mount's brisk pace. A chorus of screams and a jumble of thoughts attempting to process the situation sent a chill to his fingertips, forcing him to watch the spectacle, stunned. A wave of heat struck him in the face, and a cloud of smoke spread across the ground. Any effort here seemed futile.
“The schemes of demons?!” flashed through his mind. A moment later, a roaring pillar of fire appeared in the passageway amidst scattered people and shattered logs. "Axes! Chop down everything around it! Don't let it spread!"
"Thefis! Skrek take you, what nonsense are you spouting?! The lord will have my head!" yelled the local steward, standing safely behind the fence.
"I'll skin you alive myself," a displeased, strained bass voice rumbled. "L-look what you've allowed to happen, you gawker!" The imposing yet doomed figure of Poner cast a shadow against the backdrop of the blazing warehouse. Ignoring the prostrate servant, he looked at the raging elements. The rampant flames amidst the recovering villagers left no choice. After a moment's hesitation, the lord waved a lazy hand towards the nearest buildings: "Tear them down... Come on, get to work!"
Several skilled men grabbed ladders and tools. A pair headed for the log cabins, while the commander, out of habit, decided to check the forge. But everything there had already been taken, and nothing was to be found but an abandoned shovel. Hoping to find at least a hammer, he glanced behind the furnace and stumbled upon a boy. The boy stared wide-eyed in fright, half-rose, and, backing away, fell on his back.
"What are you doing here?"
From the awkward landing, the little one mumbled and began to stammer something: "I, I'm doing nothing." Thefis found the disjointed explanation strange. The foundling's clothes were stained with something green and gave off a strange smell, indecipherable through the smoke.
"You should get out of here." Noticing the remaining water in a barrel, Thefis decided to wipe his forehead, and some of it splashed onto the boy. The boy jerked and cried out:
"Ah, no, don't!" Small sparks sizzled and ran across the stains, causing him to twist and squirm on the ground.
"Let's see here," the commander quickly grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, tore off his shirt, and pushed the fire-victim out into the square.
"Please, it wasn't me, I didn't mean to!" begging for mercy, he looked around at each figure surrounding him.
"What's this now?" the nearby lord had just enough time to be surprised before logs, dislodged from the walls, came rolling towards him. "Bah… lock him in the cellar! We'll sort it out later…"
"What are you doing, you monsters! My only child..." a woman's voice came from the direction of the manor, but the steward interrupted her:
"What are you spouting, you crazy woman!"
However, he failed to block her path and shut the troublemaker up. "Who needs that shed anyway, it's nothing but a stench," the plump cook chattered, batting him away with her old leather apron. "The logs are all rotten. Can't the men build a new one?"
"Confess! Did you put him up to this?!" Grabbing the cloth of her apron, the lord's lackey pulled her towards him, and at that moment the youth cried out:
"No, it was the one in the hood!"
Hearing this, Poner, having moved away from the ruined barrack, began the interrogation: "What hood? The chapels are full of them!"
"In a dark cloak, with a scar… he said you asked for it…" The boy faltered, his mouth open, and his eyes filled with tears.
"Wha-at?!" The lord stepped indignantly toward the boy and hissed menacingly, "Don't you try to fool me."
"My lord, I saw this stranger at the gates. During our first run. Shall I have the area searched?" Thefis intervened.
The mother's cry, the commotion, and the fire seemed to have completely drained the master of his strength.
"Ahh," his exhale sounded powerless. "May the Erinii take you all." Approaching the manor's porch, he grasped the handrail and fell silent, watching the men at work. "We don't have enough men to search the lands. Mmm, here's what we'll do." Poner frowned, looking at the stained shirt in the commander's hands. "You will ride with me to the capital. And you…" At his snarl, the steward fearfully released the woman from his grip. "By the time I return, I want that warehouse standing as good as new."
A cool wind lazily pushed at their backs. A cart, lurching from side to side, dragged itself unhurriedly along the broken, thawed-out rut. Beside it, four horsemen trod, safeguarding its peaceful progress. A sparse copse led from the village to the edge of the steppe expanses, over which hung a gray sky. And ahead, from behind the gentle hills near a boundary strip, the thin fences of the fields crawled into view. It was already the fifth time today they had to traverse this route.
Wearied by the routine, Thefis sighed resignedly, gazing intently at the familiar landscape. The damp, earthy air filled his chest, carrying the scent of last year's leaves. Perhaps this eased the tension. But the responsibility for the cargo brought sweat to their wind-chapped brows. And even the proximity of the lord's estate brought no relief in the season when hungry predators awaken.
Suddenly, the familiar trills coming from the edge of the grove fell silent. The commander calmly tightened the reins and, raising a hand, halted the party. His mount, with rows of spikes along its spine, shifted restlessly on its two-toed feet. And as if in response to this wariness, a flock of birds burst from the tops of the bare trees. Next, a sharp gust carried the smell of burning. The hulking beasts in the harness began to wheeze discontentedly. And from behind the woods, a pale wisp of smoke began to rise.
"Hold formation!" Thefis commanded in a steady voice, turning to the agitated animals. "Yermal! Find out what's going on… Be careful!" he added to the dismounted rider who was making his way through the scraggly thickets.
The scout's back had barely disappeared among the flickering branches when his voice carried back from them: "It's burning. It's bur-r-rning!" The surging cry was replaced by the crunch of dry bushes. Dashing out to the party, he swallowed and, pointing behind him, said: "The lord's estate… is on fire."
The smoke was thickening before their eyes. By the time the cart gets around the thicket, the cargo from the previous trips—it will all burn. The recent rumor about arson… A diversionary tactic? An abandoned wagon is easy prey. But there are four others like it there… Come on, lads, don't let me down.
"Watch the wagon!" the commander ordered and broke into a gallop.
Turning into the nearest clearing and galloping through it, he emerged into a field. At the far end of the overgrown plowland, indistinct silhouettes could be faintly seen pouring from the gates. Judging by the buildings glowing from the blaze, the fire had flared up in full force. The upper part of the stockade near the fire was engulfed in flames. Someone was running along the walls, beating it back with makeshift tools, preventing it from spreading further. The rest of the crowd was still heading down towards the ravine.
Thefis continued to watch helplessly as he approached the tragedy. A group of men disappeared into the courtyard with buckets. But instead of results, the sound of muffled thunder rang out. The ignited fence flew apart, the unexpected sight checking his mount's brisk pace. A chorus of screams and a jumble of thoughts attempting to process the situation sent a chill to his fingertips, forcing him to watch the spectacle, stunned. A wave of heat struck him in the face, and a cloud of smoke spread across the ground. Any effort here seemed futile.
“The schemes of demons?!” flashed through his mind. A moment later, a roaring pillar of fire appeared in the passageway amidst scattered people and shattered logs. "Axes! Chop down everything around it! Don't let it spread!"
"Thefis! Skrek take you, what nonsense are you spouting?! The lord will have my head!" yelled the local steward, standing safely behind the fence.
"I'll skin you alive myself," a displeased, strained bass voice rumbled. "L-look what you've allowed to happen, you gawker!" The imposing yet doomed figure of Poner cast a shadow against the backdrop of the blazing warehouse. Ignoring the prostrate servant, he looked at the raging elements. The rampant flames amidst the recovering villagers left no choice. After a moment's hesitation, the lord waved a lazy hand towards the nearest buildings: "Tear them down... Come on, get to work!"
Several skilled men grabbed ladders and tools. A pair headed for the log cabins, while the commander, out of habit, decided to check the forge. But everything there had already been taken, and nothing was to be found but an abandoned shovel. Hoping to find at least a hammer, he glanced behind the furnace and stumbled upon a boy. The boy stared wide-eyed in fright, half-rose, and, backing away, fell on his back.
"What are you doing here?"
From the awkward landing, the little one mumbled and began to stammer something: "I, I'm doing nothing." Thefis found the disjointed explanation strange. The foundling's clothes were stained with something green and gave off a strange smell, indecipherable through the smoke.
"You should get out of here." Noticing the remaining water in a barrel, Thefis decided to wipe his forehead, and some of it splashed onto the boy. The boy jerked and cried out:
"Ah, no, don't!" Small sparks sizzled and ran across the stains, causing him to twist and squirm on the ground.
"Let's see here," the commander quickly grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, tore off his shirt, and pushed the fire-victim out into the square.
"Please, it wasn't me, I didn't mean to!" begging for mercy, he looked around at each figure surrounding him.
"What's this now?" the nearby lord had just enough time to be surprised before logs, dislodged from the walls, came rolling towards him. "Bah… lock him in the cellar! We'll sort it out later…"
"What are you doing, you monsters! My only child..." a woman's voice came from the direction of the manor, but the steward interrupted her:
"What are you spouting, you crazy woman!"
However, he failed to block her path and shut the troublemaker up. "Who needs that shed anyway, it's nothing but a stench," the plump cook chattered, batting him away with her old leather apron. "The logs are all rotten. Can't the men build a new one?"
"Confess! Did you put him up to this?!" Grabbing the cloth of her apron, the lord's lackey pulled her towards him, and at that moment the youth cried out:
"No, it was the one in the hood!"
Hearing this, Poner, having moved away from the ruined barrack, began the interrogation: "What hood? The chapels are full of them!"
"In a dark cloak, with a scar… he said you asked for it…" The boy faltered, his mouth open, and his eyes filled with tears.
"Wha-at?!" The lord stepped indignantly toward the boy and hissed menacingly, "Don't you try to fool me."
"My lord, I saw this stranger at the gates. During our first run. Shall I have the area searched?" Thefis intervened.
The mother's cry, the commotion, and the fire seemed to have completely drained the master of his strength.
"Ahh," his exhale sounded powerless. "May the Erinii take you all." Approaching the manor's porch, he grasped the handrail and fell silent, watching the men at work. "We don't have enough men to search the lands. Mmm, here's what we'll do." Poner frowned, looking at the stained shirt in the commander's hands. "You will ride with me to the capital. And you…" At his snarl, the steward fearfully released the woman from his grip. "By the time I return, I want that warehouse standing as good as new."
There is also a third option, but it only includes the first chapter, the same as the second option, but with a different ending. And then just an idea: Poner himself takes the evidence to Firis with Tefis. The advisor deals with politics with the king, sending Tefis on patrol to find the arsonists. As a result of the conversation with the king, Firis decides to organise an expedition. And Tefis, arriving with nothing, is assigned to this expedition. That's already 3.5-5 chapters. The most annoying thing is that the scene with Tethys and Allora and its consequences will disappear.
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