Chapter 4:

A large, black carriage rocked its way along a muddy woodland road, its wheels squeaked faintly through each dip and tight turn. The sky above was grey and threatening.

A company of four armed horsemen escorted the carriage. They had been some of the last hired men available, and thankfully they seemed to be trustworthy.

A simple wooden cart full of supplies and chests of valuables followed further back. Two similarly looking gnarled old men led the horses on both vehicles. I think they’re brothers. Strange, still having siblings at that age.

Inside the black carriage sat Hal and his family. The interior was cramped and humid, despite the carriage’s outward appearance. Two padded benches stuck out of the back and front walls, leaving a small path to the door that led outside. Hal and Carwyn sat on the forward-facing bench, leaving Serilin, Ophelia, and Gillian to sit on the other.

Ophelia was draped over Gillian’s legs, fast asleep. Her small feet nudged Serilin – who was peacefully reading – every time the carriage turned a corner or hit a rise in the road. Gillian was asleep as well; a few stray hairs were plastered over her forehead and her head was gently rested against the wooden wall behind her.

Hal was sitting directly across from Gillian. His hands fidgeted in his lap while he stared out of the wide wooden slat in the door that was the carriages sole window. All he had seen for the past five hours was dense, dark wood. Carwyn shifted beside him. “I can’t bloody well sleep with all this rocking and swaying.” He straightened from his previously slouched position; a defiant expression began to form on his face.

Hal replied with an impartial tone, “Well, let’s have a peaceful discussion instead.” Carwyn was readying himself for a withering reply before Serilin interjected casually.

“I liked it when you weren’t talking at all,” she closed her book with a resigned flick of the wrist and tossed it onto her lap. “In fact. I think I’m done.” With that, she crossed her hands over each other and fell asleep.

Carwyn shot her a baleful look before turning his full attention to Hal. “What is there to even discuss? You have made your decision to uproot this family for your own reasons. I have nothing more to say on the matter. Except, perhaps, that you are a selfish pig.” Hal frowned slightly but did not change tack.

“Son, as I have explained to you and the rest of the family, there will be an untold amount of oppurtu-“

“Ugh! Enough with this opportunity that you speak of. I do not want it.” Carwyn waved his hand contemptuously towards his father. “I was perfectly happy to train, at home, with professional tutors and enlist in the army as soon as I became of age, just as you did when you were young. The only opportunity I now have is to rebuild my tutoring structure from the ground up in an unfamiliar place.”

I would teach him some bloody respect if I didn’t know he has the right of it. I’ve done something selfish here, I just hope it turns out for the best.

“Carwyn, I will speak to you further when we are in a more appropriate environment,” Hal gestured softly towards a soundly sleeping Gillian, “and when we are all well rested.”

“I do not need to be well rested to know when I am right, father.”

“I was not claiming that, just that we may be …” Hal’s focus slipped from his son and turned towards the window. A childish smile broke out on his bearded face. “Look my boy! Were home.”

Carwyn scoffed and rolled his eyes derisively. “Aye, we’ll see about that.” Despite his words, he turned his head quickly to gaze out of the window.

What he saw was the city of Cliff Harbour, a sprawling landscape of small houses and massive towers separated by a series of three formidable concentric walls spreading out from a highly developed centre. From Hal’s position, the city looked to be a grey, smoking mass that had spread out to both the distant shoreline and the base of the large cliff that he was staring from. The cliff in question – Imaginatively named Harbour Cliff – reached as far as Hal could see in either direction. To the north and south of the city were vast hilly fields lined with busy roads, although these fields were only distant impressions on the horizon from Hal’s viewpoint. It was getting to be late in the day, and the sun was making its slow descent towards the ocean.

Hal stood up – as much as a man could in a small carriage – and made his way to the door. He cracked it open and shouted towards the carriage driver. “Hail, driver! How much longer until we reach the centre!”

“A few hours more milord,” the old man replied without looking behind him. “The roads are always busy these days, no matter the hour.” He lashed the reins as if to emphasise his point, though the road was empty.

As the carriage sped up Hal closed the door gently and went back to his seat, letting out a disappointed sigh as he went. As he sat down Gillian let out a weary yawn and rubbed her eyes before opening them, a small mannerism that Hal had grown to love.

Hal leaned forward and whispered, “We’ll be there in a few hours my gem, best to go back to sleep. I will wake you when we arrive.”

“No. I am awake.” Gillian smiled at Carwyn, who was staring sulkily out of the window. “I see you have been talking without me. About what I wonder?”

Carwyn gave an insolent grimace while still staring and muttered, “It’s not bloody well fair.”

“Come on my dear, men would kill to move to the big city, men have.” Gillian nudged Carwyn gently with her slippered foot, careful not to wake Ophelia. “Come on. I’m sure you will find plenty of young women to fawn over.” Carwyn gave an affronted cry and moved his foot away from his mother’s. “Mother, please.”

“I think you are meant to say that the girls will fawn over him,” Hal interjected, smiling along with Gillian, who proceeded to let out a rather unwomanly chuckle.

“Aye, I’m sure sulky little boys are in fashion around this time of year.”

Carwyn crossed his arms and sighed dejectedly, “I bear the insults because I must, thus is the way of the steadfast man.”

Hal massaged his beard thoughtfully, “Is that from Batar? Or perhaps the memoirs of Commander Strickland?”

“That one was Batar,” Serilin replied without opening her eyes.

The family talked for several more hours until they and their entourage reached the city’s northern entrance. They had made a winding descent down the cliff face, continued along a slightly more populated road hugging the stark grey city wall, and arrived at a large, crowded entrance. The entrance itself was a pair of intimidating stone doors roughly the size of five tall men. When open – which it was – the gate could easily fit five carts riding abreast, with room for men to walk in between. The gate was populated with a wide assortment of travellers. They ranged from Efir merchants - their oversized four-ox carts filled with blue ore - to aloof Coalition scholars to nomadic sitar carrying Gumadors to families, arriving or otherwise. Liveried guardsmen with great plumed helmets patrolled the crowds and eased congestion.

Before entering the fray, the leader of their hired protection rode forward hailed a guardsman from the crowd. They talked respectfully for several moments and Hal’s man handed the guard a piece of parchment, Hal’s summons presumably. The guardsmen read the parchment and nodded before turning around and shouting orders to his men. Hal could barely hear anything over the din, but the other guardsmen seemed to hear just fine, as they began forming a narrow path promptly. The guardsmen jostled and pushed against the crowd in order to make them comply. Some seemed inclined to resist but most followed along willingly enough. The carriage slowly made its way through the opening in the crowd.

The hired men surrounded the carriage filled with goods, wary of any prospecting burglars. This is why a malnourished man clad only in rags and grime managed to slip through the barrier of guardsmen and wrench open the carriage door. The man only stood in the doorway and stared manically at the family for several seconds before Hal leaped out of his seat and charged him. Carwyn only stared back at the man, startled into stillness, and barely moved as his father forcefully dragged the man out of the doorway and onto the hard cobbled ground below. Hal and the man writhed and struggled on the ground before the man managed to gain the advantage. The man picked up a rock off of the ground and began pounding on Hal’s chest and defending arms. Hal managed a raspy shout. “Carwyn! Help me!”

Carwyn seemed to snap out of his daze and quickly jumped to his father’s aid. Drawing his sword in a practiced arc, he swung upward, cleanly decapitating the man before he could even turn to look at his new attacker. The man's head rolled through the air, eventually landing at the feet of a little peasant girl who was spectating the fight along with most of the crowd.

The world seemed to come to a stop. There was no movement or sound for what seemed like an eternity. Carwyn’s upraised and bloodied sword reflected the midday sun, a plume from a guardsman’s helmet swayed gently with the breeze, and a horse decided to relieve itself on the ground.

Then, everything happened at once. The peasant girl began to scream, Carwyn rushed to sheath his sword and help his father, and the crowd began to move restlessly, scared by both the filthy man and the armed one. The guards were too busy maintaining the narrow path to assist anyone.

Carwyn kicked the headless man off of Hal and pulled him to his feet. Hal leaned heavily on Carwyn’s shoulder as he was rushed back into the carriage. Gillian and Serilin helped him up and laid him on the narrow wooden floor. Before closing the carriage door Gillian shouted instructions for the driver to make haste.

As the carriage sped along the road and deeper into the city everyone huddled around Hal, careful not to step on him in the cramped space. Ophelia peered sleepily over her mother’s shoulder and rubbed her eyes. “What’s going on?” she said, half yawning.

Serilin pursed her lips in a calmly worried way, “Father has been attacked by a, um, vagrant I presume.”

“And I fought him off!” Carwyn said proudly.

“Oh yes, Carwyn ‘the beheader of the homeless and saviour of all the world’ what an apt title. Hm?”

“Stop bickering and give your father some respite, will you?” While the children had been talking Gillian was checking Hal’s condition. “Your father is a bit bruised and bloody, but I think all he needs is rest.” She pat his hairy cheek affectionately.

“I’ve had worse you know.” Hal croaked. He grimaced and began to struggle into a sitting position.

“He’s alive!” Ophelia exclaimed.

“Of course, he’s alive. He’s father.” Carwyn nodded, reassured, and sat down. There was a long period of silence after that. The only sound being Hal’s struggle onto the bench and inevitable muted groan as his body told him just how bad the damage was. The silence lasted until they were deeper into the city. Serilin leaned forward suddenly and spoke to Carwyn as if she had been waiting politely and could not possibly hold back her question any longer.

“So, what did it feel like?”

“What do you mean?” Carwyn spoke distantly, looking as if he already knew the question and did not want to answer.

“To kill someone,” Serilin answered, unphased by his hesitation.

Gillian was about to interrupt before Hal placed his hand on her arm gently and shook his head.

He has to confront this sometime. I hope she sees that it is necessary for him to talk about it and not keep the feelings locked inside of him.

“Well… I…” Carwyn swallowed uncomfortably and looked at Hal, who nodded reassuringly. “I was relieved at first. That the whole attack was over. And that father was safe.” He took a deep breath and continued. “That was for the first few minutes, and after that, I remembered the little girl and how the man’s head rolled through the air and how the girl screamed as the blood flew everywhere and then that my sword was covered in blood and that I couldn’t clean it in here and then that the blood was from him… or from his, uh, neck.” Carwyn bowed his head to the floor and covered his face with his hands, muffling his words slightly. “And then I thought. Why? Why would he do something so stupid? What did he expect? For us to welcome him with open bloody arms and have a cup of tea?” He looked up soberly and talked in an oddly sad way as if discussing the tragic fall of some long-dead civilization. “No. I don’t think he was thinking anything really. Maybe he wanted some warmth or wanted to see a rich person up close. Who knows? I’m sure he didn’t.”

There was another period of silence, shorter this time but tenser.

“Well… that answers good enough for me,” Serilin said, apparently satisfied, and leaned back.

Hal took a deep breath, as if to prepare himself for a long speech, but Gillian interjected, placing a comforting hand on Carwyn’s leg. “It is unfortunate that you had to experience your first human death in such a context. Surrounded by civilians, by your own family, and for it to happen in such an undignified way…” Gillian pursed her lips in sympathy. “Just know that it will eventually get easier.”

“Stark advice, but wise.” Hal joined “I am sure you’ve always understood that death is a natural consequence of your passion.” Hal gestured to Carwyn’s sword. “And you perhaps saw it as a more romantic concept than it is. Death is blood, shit, and tears.”

“And not necessarily for the dead person,” Serilin interjected.

Hal gave a grim chuckle. “Aye, I know I’d shed my fair share of those three back in my fighting days.”

Before anyone could reply the carriage came to an abrupt halt and one of the hired men knocked politely on the carriage door. “We’re ‘ere milords and ladies.” He opened the door for them and helped them down individually, leaving Carwyn to help Hal down.

They had stopped in front of a large manor just outside of the inner-city wall. The manor was a bright white ornamented monstrosity. It was an ugly rectangular shape, with an angled roof that showed more lichen and moss than orange tile. The windows on each floor were oversized and fitted improperly; not asymmetrical per se, just drunkenly tilted in their places. The white paint on the façade of the house was cracked and peeling, along with the wood veneer that lined the windows.

And yet, there is still a certain… charm?

“By the God’s old and new.” Carwyn stared at the house in apparent awe.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. Let’s see the inside before we judge it so harshly.” Gillian said admonishingly as she calmly straightened out her dress.

As if at Gillian’s command, a refined-looking couple walked out of the front doorway with welcoming smiles.

“Welcome! Welcome everybody.” The man greeted them, a sincere smile on his weathered face.

“It can’t be,” Hal said with a hearty laugh. “If you of all people have grown an ale-belly then what chance do I have?” The two men embraced heartily and slapped each other’s backs. As they separated Hal only just managed to suppress a pained grimace.

“Hal, it…” the man paused, taken aback by Hal’s haggard appearance “What happened to him?”

Gillian walked over to answer, “A vagrant broke into our carriage and hit him with a rock.”

“Goodness Duncan! let’s not dither any further. Help us with their things so he can rest.” Duncan’s wife was a slender woman with long back hair tied into a practical bun. She had a kind face, lined with her many years of lavish merriment.

Everyone helped the hired men unload the cart and gradually began to take the valuables inside the house. Ophelia shouted high-pitched orders and Carwyn lifted a bit more to compensate for his father’s weakness. After several minutes everything was inside and Hal was handing the hired men and the carriage drivers their earnings one by one.

Gillian leaned in the doorway and watched him as she talked. “Cassandra, what’s it like here? Really.”

“For Hal and Duncan, it will be travelling to the palace and back in time for dinner most days. For us and the children, we will be dedicated to… self-improvement. let’s say.”

“Hm,” Gillian replied. “So we have fuck all to do.”

“Not exactly. It’s just that we have very little to do. I know a few places that you could send the children.”

Gillian sighed deeply and watched her husband. “Hmm.”