“I’m graced by your presence nephew, what brings you this far West?” General Lazar’s tone was welcoming, but his eyes were empty, devoid of any emotion. It was a skill Mordechai envied. “You’re being overly familiar uncle, don’t forget that I’m still your commanding officer.” He said, but the sparks of joy in his eyes gave him away and he clasped hands with his uncle.

“It is good to see you, it has been a while.” As they released each other his uncle nodded. “Several months I believe, but I figured I was due for a visit from my laudable superior.” Mordechai tilted his head. “Oh?” Lazar nodded gravely. “I cannot imagine you able to spend more time in his esteemed majesty’s company.” Small amused bonfires alighted in Lazar’s eyes as he saw his nephew grimace. “Honestly, uncle, the man has become even more insufferable since taking the throne. The only words I hear out of his mouth these days are purity, bloodlines and Northern traitors. Frankly, it is getting on my nerves and I’m regretting that I brought him along.”

Lazar gave his nephew an encouraging pat on his shoulder. “You will be glad you brought him when the enemy arrives on the field of battle. Nothing like a flying, fire breathing lizard to break an enemy line. Mordechai sighed. “I rather deal with said lizards instead of their riders.” Lazar smiled. “Well, thankfully you in the presence of neither. Come nephew you will be excited by the progress we made in the past months.

Together they rode through the Western forest, as it was currently called. Trees had been cleared away to make room for what was going to be a road, but what for now remained a muddy path. Their escort consisted out of two hundred scouts, a relatively light retinue for such high-ranking officers of the blood. Not that Mordechai felt particularly unsafe, the scout corps were among the best fighters in the Tarabashian empire, and he wasn’t unskilled himself.

“You will be happy to know that I intend to accelerate your progress. I have brought the entire tenth army to assist in construction and to provide additional security.” Lazar snorted. “And not at all to embark them and find a nice defendable island to raise your banner on?” Mordechai smiled; pointy teeth bared. “Why would I, uncle, when your troops are positioned so well for the same task?” Lazar thought for a minute. “What do you aim to accomplish in this world nephew? Sometimes it feels like you have it all planned out, but at other times it seems like you’re playing it all by ear. I need not remind you of the last time you tried that.”

Mordechai’s smile disappeared and he struggled to not touch his wrists. Inside his gloves his skin ached where the chains used to be. “You are right uncle; I don’t need a reminder.” His eyes narrowed. “Believe me, I have a plan and it is already in motion. It will take many years to complete, but have faith, everything is proceeding exactly as planned.” Lazar nodded, seeing the resolve in his nephew’s eyes. “All right then, I will have faith, we shall speak no more of it.”

They reached the treeline and the shore became visible. Stretched out in front of them was a bustling harbour town. A large wooden wall had been raised, protecting the many buildings inside. It all felt very familiar, perhaps too familiar. “Uncle is that” Before Mordechai could finish his sentence his uncle interrupted. “It is exactly like the old harbour district of Kerach, yes.” Golden fires of glory and pride were ignited in the older visius’ eyes. “I figured that if the viceroy refused to bring our blood here that we should bring a little of the North to him.”

Mordechai nodded as he laid his hand on his uncle’s shoulder. “It is beautiful, but it also saddens me, for it makes me long for home.” The two shared a moment of silence, thinking about the people they had left behind. “There is a lot to be done in preparation of your soldier’s arrival, nephew, let’s ride.” Lazar said as he spurred his taukar into action and resumed his way to town.

Ɏ

Another, much larger, retinue made its way Northwards. Five hundred lightly armoured riders thundered over the Solestian midlands. Their destination, Duke Conrad’s keep. Crown prince Arterious and Lyra took the lead, followed by his retinue riding in arrowhead formation. The prince’s eyes scanned both the ground and the sky ahead of them, but both were largely empty.

“We should slow down, my prince. Mystical or not, the horses can’t keep up with this pace for much longer.” Lyra shouted over the sound of thundering hooves. The prince raised his eyebrows, an expression lost under his helmet. “I want to keep pressing on. The horses can take it.” He said with confidence. Lyra doubted that very much, but then again, she never had the pleasure of riding this particular breed of Solestian horses. Apparently, the beasts were cousins of unicorns. She had some trouble believing that claim, mostly because witness reports of unicorns were unreliable at best. She could however not deny that these horses were much faster than regular ones and that their stamina seemed to be limitless.

Arterious laughed at her worried expression. “This is nothing. In his younger years my father once rode for four days at full speed without stopping. Naturally, both he and the horse were near death’s door by the end of the ride, but they pulled through. Delivered word in time to rally the kingdom’s forces against the khanates. It is a feat still spoken off during the solstice festival. I believe there is a song or maybe a poem or something of the sort.”

Lyra looked over her shoulder at their retinue. The knights rode in silence, the picture of professionalism. Much like the horses they didn’t seem to tire either. It seemed that nobody was sharing her fatigue or her saddle sores. She sighed. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have training in the saddle, but neither did she live on the back of a horse. Opposed to most members of the nobility, who learned how to ride before they could walk.

Suddenly, fields appeared on her right and left, a clear sign that they were about to enter civilization again. A few minutes later they reigned in the horses to account for the increasing traffic on the road. Farmers hurried out of the way for the prince and his retinue, some cheering as he passed. Lyra smiled; it was always nice to see how beloved her prince was among the common folk. As they rode into the village a horn was blown three times and they were greeted by a haphazard thrown together welcome committee.

A fat man in a large brown overcoat came forwards to greet them. “Your highness, Thunderdale is most anxious to welcome you. Forgive us, we would have prepared a proper welcome if we knew you were coming. My name is Glenn Honeysworth, the mayor of our prospering village.” The mayor made a deep bow as Arterious dismounted. The prince nodded to the mayor, who rose from the bow with trouble.

“Rest assured mayor Honeysworth, this is all the welcome I need from my beloved subjects.” He removed his helmet so that the gathering villagers could see his broad smile. “Unfortunately, I cannot stay, even though I’ve heard that some of the finest bread in the kingdom is made here. No, I must make haste to reach Duke Conrad’s keep by nightfall.” Lyra snorted, the finest bread in the kingdom, she had heard him use that line everywhere he went. Mostly, because he was sure that his subjects ate bread, not because he knew anything of local cuisine.

The mayor, visible pleased that he wouldn’t have to wine and dine the prince, quickly settled into the dance of etiquette he had learned from his father, who in turn would have learned it from his father. “But your majesty Thunderdale has so much to offer. Besides bread our local beef stew is unrivalled, you simply must taste it.” The prince shook his head, refusing hospitality for the second time. “Although I regret it, I simply cannot stay.” He said, with what seemed like true regret. It might even be real; Lyra knew of his obsession with peasant stews.

“But your majesty, I must insist, I have a twenty-year-old single malt in storage just for an occasion such as this. I promise it will suit you more than another long ride.” Again, the prince shook his head. “I am honoured, mayor, but truly I must be on my way. Matters of state guide my feet.” Another beaming smile for the people around them. “But not my heart, which will always be with my people.” The crowd cheered enthusiastically.

After the noise had died out the mayor threw up his hands in mock despair. “Alas, if this is how it should be, then so be it. At least take these gifts for your journey.” A peasant tried to give a basket to the prince, but a guard intercepted it before it could get near the prince. More than a few disliked nobles had died by receiving baskets filled with snakes. Arterious gave another of his winning smiles, before putting his helmet back on. “I receive this gift with joy and I give the village of Thunderdale my royal blessing, may it prosper until Soles decides to reprieve us!”

As he climbed back into the saddle in a single smooth motion the people cheered. He waved as they cleared a path for him and his retinue and they took to the road again. Some way out of the village they started to pick up speed again. “A threefold invitation and a gift, don’t you just love how orthodox the north is?” Arterious said, just loud enough for Lyra to hear. “You could have kept it shorter.” She noted. Arterious shrugged. “I didn’t see the harm in it, besides the people need a bit of a show sometimes, keeps them from rebelling when we raise additional taxes.” A moment later the sound of hooves hitting the ground drowned out any attempt at conversation, short of screaming, and she left it at that.

After hours of heavy riding, only interrupted by a short break to eat and the to relieve oneself, their destination finally came in sight. Duke Conrad’s keep was a large, looming, square tower made of thick grey stone, sitting on a hill. A small town had been built around the keep into the hillside. It in turn was protected by a large stone wall that had been raised at the base of the hill. Everything was made of the same grey stone as the keep, giving the place a grim, dour look.

“Festive.” Lyra dryly noted as they slowed down. Arterious shrugged. “It wasn’t built to be festive. The Northern clans who used to live here were an aggressive lot. They warred on each other frequently. When my great, great, great grandfather took the region, he saw fit to burn down most keeps, save for the ones of the three clans that supported him. The dukes have kept the peace since then, more or less.” Lyra pouted her lips. “More or less?” She asked. “Apparently they hold these “tournaments” with unusual high mortality rates. I think my father prefers it that way, instead of open war.”

Lyra doubted they would be seeing any of those tournaments, with the war looming ever closer. When they arrived at the gate, she wasn’t surprised to see it close. Twilight had already settled in. What she was surprised by was the suspicion of the guards. As they were allowed access to the town the guard’s wary eyes worried her. She spurred on her horse to ride beside Arterious. “There is something strange going on, aggressive or not, these people are too on edge.” The prince nodded, but further conversation was cut short by the welcome committee.

“Crown Prince Arterious, I have eagerly been waiting your arrival.” A deep voice said. The voice belonged to a giant of a man, dressed in furs. His face was scarred and a chunk of his nose was missing. “Duke Conrad, I presume.” Arterious said, cautiously. “In one guess, you’re smarter than they say. I have a gift for you.” The large man thundered as he gestured to a man who gave him a leaking sack. “A gift befitting a prince.” He threw the sack at the feet of Arterious’ horse. One of his guards dismounted and opened the sack.

“There is a head in here, your majesty.” He said without so much as changing his tone. Instantly hands went to swords, but the guard shook his head. “It is not human, your majesty.” As the guard lifted it out of the bag Conrad started laughing, which more resembled barking than anything else. “That is the head of one of our enemies, the first of many. I caught this one myself. It had some kind of animal, but my hounds tore it apart before I could recover it.”

Arterious took the head from the guard. “Weird skull, black blood and monstrous eyes, this is excellent news. Is it intelligent?” Conrad shrugged. “It shouted some gibberish at me before it attacked. It used a blade, well crafted, and it knew how to use it.” A mean grin appeared on the duke’s face. “But my axe took its head off, sure as it can take off the head of any man.” Lyra’s eyes narrowed, that sounded a lot like a threat.

“Well, my dear duke, if you keep bringing me heads, I’m sure the war will be over quickly.” Arterious said, an equally mean grin on his face. It was sometimes eery how he did that, change to suit different kinds of people. For a second the duke was silent, then he let out another bout of barking laughter. “let us retreat to my keep. We will eat a proper meal and talk war.”