"I give it two days before we reach the south," Lord Baeron explained, his fingers glossing over the map.
"How's the rations going for the men?
"Well enough," I answered. "The food is fine if it doesn't spoil when it gets warmer south. As for our men, our count is still thirty thousand." That was what the men had reported. Each bannerman had counted his men and given us a definitive answer. Thirty thousand in all.
"We take Ale Hall back as soon as we can," Lord Baeron remarked. "My eyes have told me those fools left that castle's walls to rubble. We can't underestimate them, though."
"I heard one of those fools is dead. One of our scouts south reported a burnt man's corpse on a pile of ash. His armor looked none other like their elite bannermen."
...what?
The both of us looked at Ser Merill with our ears in disbelief. One of the Abberans dead? My mind couldn't believe it. I didn't know what to feel: Shocked or Relieved?
"Better throw a feast for that, eh?" Lord Baeron chuckled at his own joke, then proceeded to just cough it off when nobody laughed. "Anybody in particular?"
"The owl, I think. They said the clever fellow as he was the only one they couldn't spot."
"Maserr Aberran, master or strategy... that's good. One after another, we'll kill those bastards day by day," the lord of the west remarked. "Well, it seems all is in accord. Food supplies are good, soldiers good, and we got one less to worry about."
"That be true," I remarked with a smile. "The sooner we finish this war, the quicker we can return to our homes. Have we sent a letter to the north?"
"Aye, my lord," Ser Merill answered. "As of now, we've already sent-"
"Pfft! As if those people will ever listen," Lord Baeron interrupted. "We've sent more than a dozen letters to them already! They be refusing to give fealty. I heard they've got their own king. Best to believe it's your uncle, your grace."
My own uncle taking the throne. What else shall surprise me now, that my sister is alive and well with Lady Norien's brother?
"Best to believe we need to go and be diplomatic," Ser Merill chipped in. "We can't take the north's army head to head. It's best we persuade them to kneel rather than force them. If they see the king is alive, they have no choice."
"You best believe I agree, then." Lord Baeron had turned to leave, and we trailed behind. "I know I'm a man with a heart for violence, but I'm not sacrificing my men for some stupid misunderstanding."
"Are there any reports on the north?"
"My eyes tell me they be going south, but there's still the chance they'd move east," Ser Merill explained. "The worst case is for them to move here, your grace. They still do not believe you are alive-"
"Let those fools believe what they want for now. Like I said, if we show them our king is alive, they'll bow down as quickly as anybody would," Lord Baeron remarked confidently.
The army camp looked randomly spread out from first sight, but each group of tents was divided into sections, and those sections into other sections, until it couldn't be at all. That was only one of the many genius ways the west had in terms of military might. Now at the hands of the Faerelions, the logistics and the strategic factor of the military has only gotten up.
All around us, the sounds of chattering and rumbling soldiers filled the lively atmosphere as the morale of our men were sky high, a curious thing in a time of war.
"I've never seen an army this well managed," Ser Merill remarked, looking at a loaf of warm plump bread that he held on his palm. Mmm... bread.
"They have less than the north," I reminded him. "But it still surprises me how they manage to do all these things in a short amount of time. How long did it take them to set up camp?"
"Less than three hours. My army took eight," he replied, chewing his bite of bread loudly.
"Most impressive."
"And not that surprising, might I add. Considering what's happening all around the kingdom, this is the least surprising of all. Who knew one of the Abberans could be killed?" he asked, still astounded at the thought.
I took a moment to let the words sink in once more. Dead. He was really gone. "Anybody can be killed in a war. That's no question." As if it wasn't obvious enough.
"Indeed, your grace," he replied, his bread finished and his head tilted subtly to the sky as if admiring its beauty. "It seems the time is near, I believe, for our second mission to commence."
"What may that be?" I asked.
"To join forces with the north and to convince them to join your cause. Without the northern army, we will only squabble and let the rebels take a stronger position," he explained, hands behind his back as he strolled calmly. Odd for a soldier.
"Two days until Ale Hall, then."
"Three," he corrected. "Add another day. The men will need rest at Trayne's End. After that, we can head for Ale Hall and liberate the captured."
"Hard to believe they still left hostages," I remarked. "Knowing their cruelty, I wouldn't have expected that. Hard to believe they actually took it in a day, too."
The old soldier shrugged. "Yes... Impressive at its best. Knowing that their leadership has fallen to the hands of the Abberans, the old man and the prince, it is nothing short of a miracle-"
"Wait," I interrupted. "The prince? You mean Lord Forien?"
"Indeed," he answered. "I don't even need my scouts to learn that. Just the rumors from their own men spreading to the town folk is all I needed to know that Lord Folius has turned mad. Even now, their fate rests on the shoulders of Lord Forien and Lord Loreys."
It was then that the memories at the balcony had returned. Our swift discussion and Lord Folius' quick calling to him to retreat inside their quarters all came back to me. It already made sense to me a long time ago, but now I wondered how he was. He must've been so... troubled... surely.
"Your grace?" Ser Merill asked, stopped in his tracks and waiting for a response. "Does something trigger you?"
"Any news on the prince?"
The soldier seemed taken back by the question. "W-what? W-why do you ask , your grace?"
"Notify me of any reports if any. I can only hope-"
"Hope for what, your grace?" he asked, his tone more stern and deep. "What interests you so much about the well-being of an enemy prince?"
"A story for another time, Ser Merill."
"Your grace, do not hide this secret from me-"
"I said for another time-"
"Then what meaning does the story of our stable boy have?"
The words stable boy stopped me from walking away. It was still unknown to Ser Merill of the ways of our escape back at Northrest Keep. The knowledge of the green prince was a mystery to both him and the other soldiers. "What did he tell you?" I asked, turning around to meet his stare.
"He told me how you escaped, how the green prince had ordered him to do so," he answered. "I need to know why, your grace. Why would an enemy prince save our prince, the true prince?"
The silence hung in the air for far too long. I had no answer to that. I never had.
"I don't know, Ser," I told him. "His intentions were unknown to me then and they remain that way even now. I never knew why he did it."
For a moment, the soldier's face remained confused, maybe even more so. "Would you have me believe he did it out of kindness, your grace?" asked he, laughing at the though as if it were a joke. He hoped it was.
"It is no joke, Ser," I replied. "It is best to believe that he did."
The old soldier paused for a brief moment, fixing his posture and letting the discovery set in. "That is why you care so much for his well-being?"
I gave only a simple nod.
"Then we owe him our thanks," he remarked. "But that doesn't change the fact that he is our enemy, your grace. He is a rebel just as much as the others are-"
"Then maybe we can turn him to our side." It was a stupid idea, really. A naive idea at best.
"What gives you the hope he will turn to our side and betray his own father? Why risk the effort to save his life?"
"Because he saved mine," I answered. "He was reluctant and dreadful in even joining his father's plans. He was forced, Ser, by none other than the madness of his own kin. Why can't we consider him to be our ally captured under the pressure of his own father and the real evil men in their ranks?"
"We can't just give anyone our trust, your grace," he explained. "While I commend him for helping you escape, he's done deeds that far outweigh his good ones-"
"May I remind you that without him, I'd be dead and turned to a burnt corpse. Without Lord Forien, you would have no king here! Do you still underestimate his importance? If we can turn him to our side, their men will do the same! Their morale will crumble!"
Ser Merill gave it a brief thought. "I cannot deny your point, your grace," he admitted. "But I must say I have more than a reasonable doubt about it. We simply cannot be this careless."
"If we find him, make sure nobody in our ranks will kill him. Do you understand?"
"W-what? You make no sense-"
"Do you understand?"
The old soldier hesitated for a while, thinking of his reply carefully. Deep down, I knew the hatred he had for the rebels was greater than I could ever think. They destroyed the peace and the family he served. They were the ones that destroyed his entire cavalry. And most of all, they were the ones that made the entire kingdom fall into war.
With a cold stare meeting another, he gave his answer.
"Yes," he replied. "But mark my words, your grace. Only justice and fate can truly save him. If he is as truly good as you say he is, then good shall befall on him."
A glimpse of both acceptance and doubt glimmered in the soldiers eyes. I couldn't deny it. "Indeed it shall."
Inside a small apothecary way up north...
"Days!?"
If I had tried to get myself to sit, I was sure my arm would've come clean off. By the time I realized I was inside an inn at a small town just near The Lily, my wife along with some caretakers had prepared me my first breakfast in days.
If I thought a man would be as hungry as a hound when he didn't eat his lunch, I'd severely underestimated the hunger of a man who hadn't eaten all three meals.
It was then that I finally got to fully observe where I was. The walls were wooden, painted with white paint and adorned with paintings and murals, with questionable dead florals outside. I suppose the people didn't think of putting their plants inside, but who am I to judge? And under me was probably the most comfortable mattress I had ever come across.
It's as if it was stuffed with clouds, not hay or feathers. I could stay here any duration as long as we got to stay here.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I replied to my wife, fixing my posture and making sure the pain wouldn't show on my face. "Uh... How's the horse?"
"I've traded her for twenty gold. We really couldn't get any more money either way-"
"We sold the horse!?" I had almost spit out an entire mouthful of hot chocolate if it weren't for my decency for the innkeeper's property. It was a good table and good hot chocolate. I couldn't let it go to waste!
"Is something wrong?" asked she.
To be honest, I had really gotten attached to the mare. I couldn't even have said goodbye. "It had sentimental value! A mare like that one has memories, you know?" I teased, my spoon pointed at her.
It was then that I was finally gifted with her laugh. Finally, I thought. How long must it have been since she smiled like this? Then again, she doesn't have my jokes to laugh at! The very words in my mind made me chuckle, barely getting over the pain.
"You always find the best way to joke even in the harshest of situations," she remarked, a smile still painted on her pretty expression.
"It's a talent."
"A talent that I can't live without. Not a doubt in that," she replied, giving me a light kiss on the cheek before standing up to admire to town's view outside. "Have you heard the news? It's been all over town now."
That word made me pause really quick. Any news we've had lately has not been the good kind. "What news?" I asked, hesitantly.
"The armies of the north are marching under the new king's command, Oren Ballister. And rumor says there's a new king in the west. The latest word says they're nearing Trayne's End down south and they're headed for Northrest."
"Another king," I sighed loudly. The kingdom didn't need another king now that a false one's in the south. What's next, one in the east? "How many kings is that now, three?"
"Wait til' you hear the best part," she teased with excitement, her steps getting closer as her face began to glow with glee.
"Let me guess! Uh... A fourth king!"
Apparently, she had enough with the jokes. All I got was a raised brow. "Tough crowd," I awkwardly remarked, head dipped and eyes to the floor.
"You don't understand, Noran. Our siblings could be alive!"
...
It took me a second to process the words. At first, my mind just couldn't let it sink in. The thought in itself was ridiculous on its own. My sister and her brother, the king, alive? Impossible! The voice in my head agreed with the idea.
I looked at her for a solid minute without a single word before I replied.
"What did you just say?"
"The spread of news from the west say that their king is the true king!" she exclaimed, head over heels over the idea. I'm going to be honest, I'd love for this to be true, too.
"Orevian," I blurted out. "He's alive?"
"That's what they say. It must be true, Noran. This is our only hope of ever returning to normal-"
"What about your uncle?" I asked, stepping closer to her with my face full of concern... and severe doubt. "They're the nearest people we have to help-"
"That path is no longer reliable, my love," she explained, her hands gripping mine. "He is a larger risk than finding our siblings. He is far too unknown for us."
The idea had depth, no doubt. But I did not need to be a Ravenman to make sense of logic. "You would rather us ride south and risk being caught for this hope that rests on a silver line?"
The answer was almost immediate.
"This is the only hope we have to see if our siblings are alive. Your sister could be out there. My brother and this kingdom's true king could be there marching with advisors and soldiers at his command! And we won't march south; we'll go west and ride to Alley Pass. Don't you see?" she asked, hopeful in her tone.
I gave the idea a moment of thought. She does have a point. My sister could still be out there, but the risks... were they too much?
You've fought a grey hound, managed to go under the radar of rebel soldiers, and you're still afraid? Chicken!
That was true as well. We had gone through so much already... but we are not capable of this, surely not. We can't be!
Really, Noran? This is your last chance, boy!
Was it, though?
Yes it is, now get your ass off that inn and get a horse!
"So, what do you think?" she asked, her eyes nearly tearing up as if expecting the worst.
With a deep breath, I finally answered her. A hopeful glance to another, I held her hand with mine and held her cheek with the other.
"After all we've been through... what is there to lose anymore? Why not go on another journey?"
I would've fell dead on the table if my fox for a wife hadn't pounced at me with joy, her lips pressed against mine as I held her below using the uninjured arm. As she finally pulled away and our eyes met once more, our hearts re-kindled and burning with hope, the door to the room opened as an old lady had entered.
"My dear, you have visitors waiting for you!"