The morning sky was slowly brightening to blue as Rylen exercised on the third floor of his father’s inn. He moved slowly but intentionally, keeping his footing wide as he’d been taught, striking, and then following with a kick.

He felt the chill air bite as he began, as if it were upset he was moving this early in the morning. He had removed the wood wall panels on three sides of the room so he could watch the rising sun and feel a breeze. Now his body was warming up quickly and the coolness became welcome. This, combined with the burn of his muscle, woke his sleepy senses. The morning was just bright enough to see the vague shape of things. The towers of the wealthy stood black against the sky yet were dwarfed by the dark mountains on both sides of the valley. The snowy peaks were barely visible.

Kick, strike, strike, knee, elbow, elbow. He let his body move into what felt most natural and smooth. He carried the momentum of his attacks, pressing across the floor until he reached the balcony railing. Then, he would turn and strike back toward the stone center of the building. The chimney warmed him as he neared it.

Rylen stopped his strikes and started drilling with a wooden replica of his father’s sword. It felt heavy despite his exercises, but its balance tamed the fatigue. The sword made a quiet swishing sound as he swung it. He switched to his left hand and drilled with that arm too. He wasn’t quite as deft with his left, but the repetition of the drills was smoothing out the awkwardness.

As the light grew in the sky, the dark blue of morning was soon replaced with the purples and oranges of the rising sun.

The Inn was situated on the western side of a gently sloping hill. At the top of the hill was a small temple for the king. Even with the sun not fully risen, its gilded roof reflected the light. The gardens surrounding the temple extended all along the ridge of the hill, from almost one side of the valley to the other.

The inn was just high enough that Rylen could see the tops of some of the buildings on the east side of the hill. The gold plating upon those rooftops stood out from among the shadows of morning. Beyond these buildings, half a mile beyond the foot of the hill, the valley ended abruptly in a cliff.

Rylen remembered when he could look out from here and see the dawn-lit horizon unbroken. Now, the tower of a wealthy merchant shadowed half of the inn from the light. Any building not over three stories high on the west side was usually steeped in shadow until an hour after dawn. Other towers had been built near the summit as if competing with each other for height and sunlight. However, there were no towers built directly east or west of the temple to respect its prominence.

Rylen struck, slashed, and jabbed with his sword back and forth across the floor. He determined the movements that needed improvement and moved slower until he got them right before speeding up again. He repeated each drill at least ten times before moving to the next. The first were easy. He could perform them the quickest, but he had to pay attention to their forms the most. Back and forth from the railing to chimney he went.

Upon reaching the railing for the hundredth time, he saw the first ray of sun strike the top of Night’s Eye, the massive watchtower that stood upon the easternmost mountain. This would be the only time its dull gray stone would be so bright the whole day. The tower was so tall that some nights Rylen swore he’d be able to touch the moon if he stood at its top. That, or he’d be skewered on it. Compared to the broad mountain it was perched on, the tower looked skinny and frail.

The sun striking Night’s Eye was Rylen’s signal to cease for the morning. As if on cue, there was a clicking as Pahanna unlocked the inn’s side door to begin prepping food for breakfast.

Rylen let out a controlled breath and relaxed himself. He quickly put the wall panels back up and the chill in the room soon vanished.

The stone center of the inn was like a thin square tower. One stone wall had the chimney leading up its side but the rest of it housed the stairways. Rylen took the stairs quietly and paused for just a moment by the second-story door where the sleeping quarters were.

It was still quiet there. He smiled to himself. I didn’t wake anyone this time. Usually, if he did, he would pass it off as part of preparing the guesthouse for the morning. He reached the first floor just as Pahanna started chopping vegetables.

“Hey, Rylie!” Pahanna said cheerfully as he entered the room. Pahanna was standing on a chair near the counter, throwing what he cut into a pot set over the fire.

Rylen went over to the washbasin and splashed his face with water, then quickly tied back his black hair with a string.

“How are you this morning?” he asked the young boy. He peeked into the pot of stew on his way past and took in its aroma.

Pahanna smiled at Rylen. “I got an extra potato from Canta today.”

Rylen stopped and backtracked. He narrowed his eyes and pinched Pahanna’s check.

“You didn’t steal it this time, did you? I don’t want to feed customers stolen loot like last time.”

The boy smiled a loopy smile with him pulling at his cheek. “That was a pirate stew that time.”

Rylen raised an eyebrow. “And what is our stew today?”

Pahanna laughed and pulled away from the other’s grasp. Rylen let him go, and he turned back to the pot and stirred.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Rylen tousled Pahanna’s ash-brown hair. “No bugs this time.” He turned to go.

“Rylie.”

“Yes?”

“Your daddy wrote today’s notes in Temaman again, and I can’t read it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re making your special stew today. And that’s Telamian, not Temaman.”

Pahanna smiled. “Qasee and Jak like my special stews.”

Rylen shook his head and went over to where Pahanna had taken out the notes. “I’d like to see the food Qasee and Jak would turn down.”

His father’s notes had been quickly punched down in the Telamian language. That’s what Hyrestl called it when he wrote in Telamian. It was punching not writing. It was obvious why. The Telamian language consisted of patterns of dots and slashes. Though his notes were in ink, Hyrestl said they put holes in leather for their language and lit it from behind with a candle for easier reading.

Rylen wanted to learn more of it, but Hyrestl had denied him, so all he could read were the simple notes Hyrestl left.

For breakfast on Falday, Hyrestl had actually called for fresh bread, tea, and cream. Of course, if customers requested beer, they could have that too.

Preparing the cream and bread would have taken some time to prepare, much more so than a simple stew. Rylen could still make the bread and cream, but this could give him some time to do some final work on their stores instead. Besides, Leyla would be in to help this morning.

He reached up and pulled another book off the shelf above the kitchen counter. He flipped to the back and looked over the list of stores. He checked off those items he had already made room for in the cupboards, pantry, and cellar.

A rapid clopping of hooves grew in loudness, then quickly passed. That would be the morning messenger from Night’s Eye. Honestly, Rylen didn’t know why they were always in a hurry. If they needed to get to the capital by a certain time, they should leave earlier instead of scaring and waking the townspeople. However, he would be curious to know what kind of things they had to report.

He double-checked the list, then set about opening cupboards and rearranging the spices. He had to make more room for the new ones that would be coming back with his father.

He descended into the cellar that had been hewn out of the rock the inn was built on. When his father had built the structure, he laid its foundation on the only rock showing itself above the topsoil. He’d had the liberty of such a choice because it had been the first building in the valley after the last town had been devastated by Ara-Era’s attempt to invade.

It was the only building of its kind in the town of Edge. Most of the buildings surrounding it were one-story and made of large logs. Most of the wealthy merchants’ towers on the west side of the hill were much the same. Only a rare few used stone.

Rylen grunted as he moved a bag of flour, then turned around in the small space of the cellar to move the jars of honey into a line. He still had to reorganize the grain, corn, onions, dried meats, beans, squash, dried tomatoes, and peppers. He didn’t like messing with the dried peppers; they always stung his nose with their scent when he moved them.

The inn’s base and inner core was made of stone. Its walls had been framed with boards and shaped timbers. The spaces between the frameworks were thinner boards covered over in plaster. The roofs had curves to them, shingled in stone. The first floor was larger than the second, and the second larger than the third. Each floor had a covered balcony around its perimeter.

The first floor had solid walls that made up its rooms, but the walls of the top two were made of lightweight, removable panels, and their layouts could be changed with just a little work.

A trilling whistle caught Rylen’s ear, and he stopped what he was doing. Its sound was as light and clear as the song of birds yet carried the softness of flutes. Rylen grinned and bounded back up the cellar steps.

The trilling rounded the corner and stopped at the back door. The rapity-tapity-tap-tap upon the door punctuated the song’s final notes. Without waiting, a young woman opened the door.

“Goood morning!” Leyla said, her smile as bright as midday. She hugged Rylen lightly but warmly, then quickly stepped inside. “I have till after breakfast before I have to get back to the temple. You’ll be on your own after that.” She untied her copper-blond hair and put an apron over her golden priestess robes.

Rylen picked up the ledger. “Did you get the stain out from yesterday?”

“I told you not to worry about that. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.” She smiled and waved a hand dismissively. She started stirring the coals in the stone oven and added wood, then proceeded to make dough.

“I can’t believe you, Pan! Were you really planning on only serving them stew?”

“They like my stew!”

“And bread makes it better! Especially with butter!”

Pahanna stuck his tongue out at her.

Rylen turned to sneak down the steps.

“Ohoho! Don’t think you can sneak away. You’re just as responsible.”

Rylen turned halfway down the steps and put a hand to his chest. “Who? Me?” He rapped the ledger with his knuckles and feigned a haughty tone as he turned up his nose. “I have to ensure the wares you two so carelessly use don’t run out. I’m off to conduct business in the cellar. Be sure not to make a mess.” He turned and rigidly descended the stairs.

Leyla smiled. “Ha! That man! Pan, we won’t let him bully us! We can walk out and leave him! He’s nothing without us! You, you…” She shook her finger ineffectively in Rylen’s direction.

Pahanna just grinned. He was enjoying the banter but didn’t quite know how to play along.

“You’ll be no better than rats without a cellar if you leave me,” Rylen called up the stairs. “You’ll come crawling back for crumbs!” He checked the ledger and moved the bags of beans to one side.

He heard an indistinct whisper from Leyla, and both she and Pahanna laughed.

“Get back to work, cretins!” he yelled.

More whispering, this time Pahanna, and they broke into laughter again.

Rylen shook his head and set himself to arranging the cellar.

He moved all of the ale barrels forward except for two of them. Those two his father was letting age as they were from batches that had tasted exceptionally good. However, Rylen didn’t know why he kept the oldest one. The one that was nearly as old as Rylen was. That crop, the first to be grown since Ara-Era’s invasion into the valley of Edge, was known as blood grain. Bodies left from the battles had to be cleared away before any plowing could be done. The first crop to be harvested after the battles was said to have soaked up the blood in the ground.

Rylen didn’t know of any person who would willingly partake in such ale. It was illegal to drink it or have it in your possession, and the social backlash upon a business would be crippling.

“So, what are you doing exactly?”

Rylen jumped and spun around. However, he stepped right back into the barrel of wine he had been moving and fell over it against the shelving. He winced.

Leyla held her hand to her mouth, trying to suppress laughter. “Are…are you okay? I’m sorry.” She offered her hand to Rylen, who felt the back of his throbbing head and took her hand. She had to squat and use her body weight to pull him up.

“Are you really going to be all right?” She patted his arm. “I really do feel bad.”

“Leyla, you really have to say something when coming up behind someone.”

“I know, I know, it’s a bad habit of mine. Um, but I did say something.”

“You waited until you were directly behind me.”

Leyla clasped her hands. “I really do feel sorry. Are you going to be all right?”

Rylen did a neck roll and winced again.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He turned and shoved the wine barrel into place with his foot. Leyla had an unsettling habit of smiling. Even now, she was smiling as she said she felt bad. It was the same if she was annoyed or angry. She just couldn’t stop smiling.

He patted her shoulder with the hand that wasn’t rubbing his head. “I was almost done, anyway.”

Together they returned to the kitchen and finished preparing for breakfast.

Rylen helped shape the bread into small loaves so they would cook faster, then went to open the doors. A few farmers were already waiting outside the back door, so he opened that one first. They took their seats as they talked about the latest news and gossip.

The inn’s seating areas were unofficially separated by class. Farmers and general laborers generally entered by the back door and sat in the rear. In the middle were the kitchen and storerooms. Then there was the seating at the front, and this is where travelers, merchants, and other finer folk would enter by. In all, about sixty patrons could be seated comfortably.

“Leyla, could you serve the front today?”

“Are you sure it isn’t because you don’t want to?”

Rylen smiled. “I feel like you deal with those kinds of people better.”

Leyla smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I deal with all kinds of people better than you. Besides, I always serve the front. I want to serve the fun people today.”

Rylen pursed his lips. She wasn’t making it easy. Sensing her victory, she promptly skipped out of the kitchen to take the farmers’ orders before he could come up with a retort. Pahanna just smiled and stirred his big pot of stew. Rylen glowered at him.

“What are you smiling at?”

Pahanna glanced over and shrugged his little shoulders.

“Aha!” cried one of the farmers. “We get Leyla today, boys! Rylen stopped hiding her from us with his ugly mug!”

“Who said that?” Rylen yelled. He poked his head out of the kitchen door. “Kaden!”

The man in question ducked his head, and the others laughed. Rylen couldn’t help smiling.

The morning went quickly after that. The guests who were still sleeping upstairs soon woke and came down through the kitchen. Rylen worked around them as best he could.

The rear of the inn soon grew loud and noisy as all the regular laborers met up for the morning. The front was more subdued. Travelers who didn’t know anyone kept to themselves. A few merchants who came every now and then were gathered around a table in the corner.

Rylen didn’t know why some of the upper crust of society came at all. The establishment was well-known, yes. It had served as the first town hall, an infirmary, and many other things in the past. Now, among other buildings, it looked unique; however, they didn’t serve unique food. Rylen’s only guess was that it had a certain broken-in feel to it that most of the other inns and taverns didn’t have, as they were much newer.

Most of the town’s growth had only happened in the last ten years. For some reason, it became the next place for the nobles and wealthy to show off their money and power. It also became a place of pilgrimage for those wanting to worship the king. Edge was the only place within the Gwyanian mountains where a person could see the sun rise over the horizon without climbing to a mountaintop. The Inn used to serve the occasional traveler, but now there seemed to be someone new every day.

Rylen was going among the tables collecting dishes for Pahanna to wash, when a traveler’s story caught his ear.

“Yeah, I’ve seen it. A flying city of the Sae. Saw it ten years ago, in fact. Another one is supposed to come real soon, if they’re running on time. Rumor is it’s supposed to be the greatest of them all, like the capital of a country, they say. Its beams are gilded, and it’ll bring the most treasure for trading that Acrabha has seen in a century!”

“What?” another traveler piped up next to him. “Acrabha sees the treasures of all the nations along the Arnaw. How is one flying ship, even a city of the Sae, going to match that?”

“They come through the Blue from beyond the Great Mountains. We hardly see those kinds of people, much less their wares. That makes them that much more valuable if you ask me.”

“You said one is supposed to be coming soon?” Rylen cut in.

The first speaker looked up at Rylen. He was a man who looked like he belonged behind a desk and not on the back of a horse. His clothes were bordered with gold thread. He gave Rylen a guarded look but answered anyway. “Well, yes. They usually come every ten years or so, which you should know, but Acrabha just received one of their heralds. They shouldn’t be much farther out than a few months. Ever seen one?”

Rylen shook his head. “No, but I really hope to someday.”

The man smiled and held out his empty mug. “I’m sure you will.”

He took the mug into his already-full arms of plates and cups, then went to where Pahanna was washing up.

The way the man had said I’m sure you will sounded like when adults consoled an upset child with a lie.