Author: ClarineterX

“Good fight! Good fight.” Captain Bailen approached from the side of the field, helping combatants to their feet and shaking hands. “Good fight, all of you. Tido, good wrist lock. Channer, how’s your wrist?” He paused to see Channer give him a nod, turning his wrist around and rubbing his neck with his other hand.

Captain Bailen continued with his assessment of the struggle. “Domire, if you’re leading the defense, you need to give more instructions. You hung back somewhat and had a good view of what was going on. You’re tall enough that you could see over your opponents’ shoulders. Your siblings and other guards were in the thick of it. Let them benefit from your view. Aton, that was good that you went with it. Went well over all, but… All of you, you can’t let your guard down when you think you’re winning. Yes, you stopped the assault, yes you were taking them down. But where are they from and what is their full mission? A dead Sageman can’t tell you anything. Besides, this could have been only the first wave. Once it’s been long enough without his return, they’d start sending more anyway. They only have to stop because of crowding. True, in a real situation, more of your reinforcements would be arriving right now, but you can’t let your guard down for a moment.”

Bailen looked over at Valkyr and Pilbon, who was giving her a critique on her archery. “Master Pilbon, can you give us a minute please?” Pilbon nodded, and Valkyr came closer to the group. “Valkyr, how’s your training with the blade coming?”

Valkyr shrugged. “I’m working on it, but it feels somewhat alien to me still.”

Bailen sighed. “You’ve got to work on that short sword. You need to be able to fight in close quarters. Your archery is great and all that, but sometimes—like this scenario here—you’re more needed up close. Even you have to be careful where you’re shooting when there’s a fight like this one. I saw you sighted in and holding shots because it wasn’t safe to take them. That’s when you pull your sword out and jump in.”

Valkyr nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Misol, you did well assisting Tido. Keep that up. Now all of you, overall, good job. Remember, tomorrow in front of everyone, don’t be nervous. Just do what you’ve been doing and keep your wits about you. When your Aunt Stalfa did her Departure—remember, she only has a shield—she carried a dagger as well and used the shield as best she could. She put on a great show, too. You just do what you can.” He nibbled his lip momentarily. “That’s it for today. Well done, have a good day, get ready for tomorrow.”

He turned and walked off to see to his duties with the Guard.

Pilbon called Valky over and resumed his archery critique. Tido stepped up to Aton. “Thanks, Aton. You had my back.”

Aton shrugged. “We all have each other’s backs. That’s just the way the fight went. Besides, they don’t attack me as much since I’m supposedly not so threatening as the rest of you.” Aton sighed. “First prince of Grendhill without a weapon, best painter, best musician, best on the ball field. No proper weapon of my own. You and the others have a clear job. Join father and Aunt Stalfa and lead the guard and protect the land. I’ll paint all our enemies away, or serenade them to pacifism. Some help that is.” He sighed, frowning.

“No, Aton,” Tido assured him, “you’ve got it made. You’re one of us, and a fantastic fighter. Your fighting…isn’t the same as the rest of us.” He hesitated, admitting Aton’s sensitive spot. “But after Father and Domire, you’re the best with the sword. Only I can best you with a battle axe. Only Misolfa can outshine you with the hammer, and only Valkyr can hit targets more true with an arrow. You shouldn’t be bummed. You’re the best with those two rapiers, too, and throwing a dagger.”

Domire and Misolfa walked up. Pilbon continued coaching Valkyr, who was drawing her bow and pointing practice arrows at a post on the edge of the grass-filled square.

Aton kicked the grass with his toe. “You’re right, Tido, of course. But you guys get to go on your trip. Well, I get to go there. But then I come right back. You guys actually go to the training point and pick up your weapons. I just come back and it’s life as usual. It’s not fair.”

They saw Pilbon finish with Valkyr, and Valkyr started jogging towards them. They all began walking back towards the city. Valkyr caught up after a few more seconds.

“So, what’re we all doing this afternoon?” Valkyr said. She had a twinkle in her eye. Aton relaxed at the change of subject.

Domire answered. “Well, Father wanted us to go watch him in court, but from the sound of your voice it sounds like you have plans afterward.”

Valkyr pursed her lips. “Well, perhaps I do, perhaps I don’t.”

Misolfa laughed out loud. “Okay, Valkyr, you’re going to go see Jacquer the Baker again, aren’t you?”

Valkyr turned with an amused fire in her eyes. “Don’t call him that! Just ‘Jacquer’ will do just fine, thank you very much!”

Misolfa couldn’t help herself. “Fine,” she said. She drew her voice out laboriously in a show of resignation. “Even though his father is a baker, and  ‘Jacquer the Baker’ rhymes so nicely—what more could you ask for—I suppose I will respect your wishes and call him ‘Just Jacquer’ from now on!”

Valkyr said nothing and punched her sister in the shoulder.

Grendhill 
Esclace, .5 Tasala Turns Later
T46042560

Zulfanael rocked her baby tenderly and smiled despite her exhaustion. What a beautiful little girl she now held in her arms. The travail of childbirth was now forgotten in her joy. Soon she would sleep. Just a few more moments looking at her little Myndael. Then she would give in to sleep.

A sagewoman had been present for the birth, of course. Getting a sageman’s impressions for a newborn was an ancient tradition and wasn’t to be neglected, especially for people of Zulfa’s position. The sagewoman had said Myndael would be resolute and honest with herself. As Zulfa thought about this, she wondered if there was any way to misunderstand it. Sageman impressions were almost always positive, but could at the same time leave room for gross character faults. A man with a “kind” disposition could be nearly unable to say no to a drink and end up constantly inebriated. A “caring” person could be easily hurt and end up a hermit, living alone to avoid the pain.

Resolute and honest with herself. That must be a good thing, but circumstances could always turn one’s good attributes against his or her own welfare. In Myndael’s case, her welfare involved the welfare of thousands of other people. Zulfa hoped life would be favorable to her child.

Zulfa heard some noise outside in the corridor. People talking. Then the door opened and King Augfi walked in drenched in sweat. Zulfa’s smile turned into an accusatory scowl.

“Where were you?” she asked her husband, even though she already knew the answer.

“I was on the training grounds,” he answered. “I need to oversee our army’s training. It has to happen.”

“You should have been here!” Zulfa almost shouted. Her exhaustion was impairing her thinking. She shouldn’t raise her voice while Mynda slept in her arms. She lowered her voice. “They’ll carry on just fine without you for a day or two.”

Augfi shook his head. “I need to train, too. If I spend a day away from the training grounds, I’ll know the difference. I won’t be as fast or sure of myself. If I spend more time away from training—“

“—Your enemies will notice it.” Zulfa finished the adage for him. She’d heard this many times before. “Augfi, how relevant is training when Esclace has never been involved in a single real battle before, let alone a full war? Sure, I know we need to be ready to defend ourselves, but surely one day…” She was too tired to keep this up.

Augfi smiled. “Look, love. I know we disagree on how important this is. But one day…” He stopped. “What name have you given her?”

“Myndael.”

“One day Myndael will rule in my place. She’ll know the importance of training. I’ll make sure of it. She’ll have to be ready to protect her lands as I am ready now.”

He paused. Inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. “I can feel the destiny of Esclace nearing. Can’t you? One day, Myndael will live that destiny. I need to have our armies ready to fulfil it, and she will need to keep them ready to defend it. One day, Myndael will be Queen of Grendhill.”

Zulfa was asleep.

The door sprang open and revealed a smiling woman. Uillia was of medium height, with brown hair and eyes. Her hair was straight and held back in a tail, though some of it hung at the sides of her round face.

“Welcome to Hevvlar, and of course welcome back to our humble home!” she said as Solmi pulled back his hood and she recognized him. “Come on in.” She stepped back from the doorway to allow Solmi to walk in. “We’re just getting our day started. What kind of a sleep schedule are you on? Where did you just come from?”

“From Grendhill,” Solmi replied, “and for me it’s evening now. I’ll probably be ready to sleep around mid-morning. Would it be possible to use my old room?”
Uillia smiled again. “Of course! We’ve cleared it out for you since you sent word that you would be coming for a visit. What brings you out here? How long will you be in town?”

Solmi paused for a short moment. “Well, I thought I’d bring my musical inclinations out here and see what the scene is like. I could be here for a few days, or I could be here several months, granted I don’t wear out my welcome. Life was getting a little too monotonous. I wanted something different for a bit. I may hop from world to world for a week or two, but I think I’ll probably end up staying here for at least several weeks.”

Uillia nodded. “There’s some very interesting music these days. Some of the local musicians have started to play from rooftops with a hat on the ground down below them. Others insist only on playing next to a warm fire at night; they say it’s the best way to enjoy quiet, soothing music.” She moved a stray strand of hair from her face. “Oh, and how’s your friend Domido and his family?” She gave the last sentence slowly and in a clearly interested manner.

Solmi slowly nodded as he spoke. “Domido and Mifalla are doing well. Grendhill is calm as always, and loves the Farellas, as always. Mifalla has been looking large lately. Reedl agrees that she may be expecting more than twins.” Solmi hated to withhold the complete information from a good friend like Uillia, but it was not time yet for everybody to know that the children had been born. One could never be sure who was watching or listening. Once people stopped speculating about where the Arms might be, he could talk freely about the little princes and princesses. Just not about the location of their special gifts.
“More than twins, eh?,” Uillia asked rhetorically. “Well, that would make up for the late start they got. That’s a good thing; the Farella house has always dealt justly, and it will do Grendhill good if they continue on forever. Well, I have chores to do, and you probably want to put down your load before everybody else attacks you with questions—if the kids are even interested enough with what’s going on outside of Hevvlar.”

She led Solmi down the hall. “Here’s your door, right where you were when you and Domido visited years ago. We’ll have breakfast ready soon. Will you be hungry?”

“Yes, thank you, but I may be late. I would like to get unpacked and situated in here first. Don’t wait for me.”

Uillia smiled. “Alright, but don’t take forever. Kascho will want to see you before he’s snagged in the business of the day.”

As Solmi walked into the room, he closed the door behind him. Who knew how long he would be here? It was not an issue about whether he would wear out his welcome. The Farella family had long kept this house open for their needs whenever they needed it, providing financial incentive for Uillia and her parents before her (and her grandparents before them) to keep it up and available. If Solmi needed it, being such close friends with Domido, he could use it as long as he needed. Though the Farella reign did not extend outside of Grendhill, let alone to this world, Grendhill and Hevvlar were on friendly terms. The few people in Hevvlar aware of this house’s use had no objection to it.

His exact timing and traveling depended on how safe the Arms seemed. Solmi could not fully hide them right now. He needed to be sure that his room would be undisturbed while he hid them. He would wait instead until he bedded down to sleep. Of course, he couldn’t stay on Harrval long. He needed to travel more in case anybody was following him, to obscure the possible location of the Arms. He would travel for a couple of weeks, going to several different locations, always carrying the bag he had just set on the floor, keeping it filled to look as it did at this moment. He would travel with his hood up, as if he still needed to conceal his identity. Perhaps he still would need to.

As Solmi planned his route, he slid the bag under the bunk beds. He then re-made the bottom bunk “to his liking,” he would insist for a few days if anybody saw it, so that the covers hung over the edge of the bed to the floor, hiding the space underneath. He pulled out of his shoulder bag his few changes of clothes—few for the sake of traveling light—and placed them on the foot of the bed, neatly folded. He then pulled a smaller box out of his shoulder bag—a case about two hands long, one hand deep and one hand’s width thick. He set this on the table next to the beds and smiled to himself. The wood his instruments were made of would enjoy the slightly higher humidity in Hevvlar.

Before heading to the main room of the house for breakfast, Solmi indulged an urge to take a reminding look at this room’s usefulness. He walked over to the stone wall at the back of the room. The room was partially below ground level, so as he stooped, he looked for a particular stone low to the floor. He found it with his eyes, a stone with a groove and a bump on the top of the surface that jutted out from the wall. He lay his left index finger in the groove and tapped the bump five times, each time with a different finger of his right hand. The stone faded and disappeared, followed in turn by the stones around it, silently opening a circular hole in the wall a few feet wide. The hole gave way to a dirt tunnel leading down into the ground. This was the place to hide the Royal Arms.