October 28th, 513 CE

It was two days before we spotted land again, the coast of Ynys Manus appearing first as a thin line of gray-green on the horizon before the distant mountains sprung up, standing like sharp stones angled up towards the sky. Lleu and his crew had given the three of us each fresh clothing, not much more than simple brown tunics and trousers trimmed with fine green and blue stitchwork, but the quality of the cloth was unlike anything found in Coronium.

The ship was pulled into dock without much difficulty, sailors and dock workers shouting incoherently to one another until the ropes were tied and the planks were lowered. All the while I stared out over the city of Allt’Llech, the stone paved streets and close packed houses both like and unlike what I remember being here before.

Most of the buildings were the same limestone and slate roofed constructions they'd been before, but the evenly paved stone roads, the aqueduct standing tall above most of the houses, the blocky spire of a cathedral, and the tall wall visible in the distance where all knew additions. Even the dockyard was slightly different, with a ground fountain topped with a painted marble statue of some Roman god, arms spread as if in welcome.

Lleu and several sailor’s left the ship to go and secure lodgings for the night, leaving the three of us to sit and stare as people passed the longship with curious glances and sailors offloaded cargo. Osa at least had her four injured men and women to care for, but Gwyn and I were practically useless at that moment.

“So,” Gwyn said, breaking the silence between the three of us. “You two are going to stay then? With me, I mean?” He was fidgeting where he sat on a rower’s bench, unable to maintain eye contact with me or Osa, though she was more focused on her current patient than anything else, a younger man with a deep laceration on his arm and a purple black bruise on the side of his head.

“I’m not sure,” I said, glancing out over the city. “There’s often a great need for bards in cities like these.”

“Well I’ll stay,” Osa said, surprising both my brother and I. Over the last two days we’d finally explained some things to her, how I’d helped Gwyn, Prince Caerwyn then, and now as well I realized, flee from an invasion of Romans. We’d left out most of the unnecessary detail, but she seemed to understand the gist of it all.

“You will?” Gwyn asked, failing to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Of course,” Osa said, not looking up as she reworked the stitches in her patient’s arm. “Those damn Romans burned my home and slaughtered my friends, there isn't anything for me to go back to anymore. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on you. Gods know it won’t be Bast or that Lleu man, so I suppose the job is left to me.”

The warm smile I gave the young wise woman was twin to the one spreading across Gwyn’s face.

“I guess I’ll stay too,” I said, to which Osa gave a snort.

“As if you had more of a choice in it than I,” she said, shaking her head before biting off the thread she was using to tie shut the injured man’s wound and tying it off.

Gwyn grinned and laughed, and I was just happy he could still feel that way after the last few days. Though, I supposed that if the last eight year’s hadn’t yet stolen his smile, then it was unlikely anything would.

Lleu and his men returned not long after that. Osa stayed to keep an eye on the injured, but Lleu led Gwyn and I off the ship and into the town proper, towards the lodging’s he’d secured, a guard of at least eight armed soldiers trailing close behind us. The town was more striking from the inside than the out.

New buildings of limestone and marble lined the streets with tall arches and columns occasionally inlaid with delicate filigree and carvings, painted scenes from both Welsh and Roman legends marking the walls alongside clusters of political graffiti everywhere we went. I had to hold back a laugh as we passed a wall with the words, “Hemos fucks Haddur’s sheep while his wife watches,” carved in rough lettering into the stone.

Lleu caught me staring and smiled slightly. “Hemos is the lord Allt’Llech,” he said after glancing at the wall. “He’s of the Priscus clan, the second largest of the seven Túaths in the city, just behind the Scurra Túath. The two have been fighting over leadership of Allt’Llech for years now. No doubt you’ll see plenty of slanderous gossip like that splattered across the city.”

“How long will we be staying here?” Gwyn asked from beside me.

“A day or two at most, my prince. At least until the high king arrives.” Lleu replied, his tone more formal than it’d been in Coronium. I wanted to ask why, but realized it was a question better left for a time of privacy.

“The high king?” Gwyn asked. “Is he coming to preside over my coronation?”

Lleu locked his gaze forward, refusing to meet my brother’s eyes. Gwyn and I shared a look of uncertainty.

“Master Lleu,” I began, doing my best to match his formality. “Is there something you haven’t told us?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “But it can wait until we find a more comfortable place to discuss it.”

I didn’t press him further. I understood the insinuation, but I didn’t like it. “How much further until we arrive at this inn?” I asked, glancing around the somewhat bustling street around us.

The road itself was wide enough to pull three chariots down one beside the other, with pedestrian pathways on either side, though most people comfortably walked through the open street as well.

“Just here,” Lleu said, flashing me a smile as he stopped outside a tall, three storied white stucco building with a sharply peaked roof, smoke billowing out a chimney from one side of the roof. He casually pushed open the door and stepped inside, Gwyn and I following after with two of Lleu’s sailors behind us.

Inside a woman sat calmly at a desk in the center of a modest foyer, a swaddled child in her arms as two more children, a young boy and girl no more than four years of age, ran about the place playing some game and shrieking.

“Sorry about those two,” the woman said as we approached, giving our group a warm smile.

“Children are children,” Lleu said, returning her smile with a slight chuckle.

“Of course,” the woman said, then turned towards Gwyn and I. “You boys can call me Cothi if you’d like.” She turned back to Lleu, her broad smile still on her face. “I presume you’re here for your rooms? Yes, of course you are. Follow me then,” she said, then rose, carrying the child in a firm well practiced grip.

It had been difficult to tell whilst she’d been sitting, but as soon as she stood I’d realized Cothi was pregnant, and pretty far along as well. Not that it mattered to me. She was just the landlady after all.

She led us up a flight of stairs then down a narrow hall before she stopped outside a door, pulled a key from her belt, and turned over the lock before opening the door. It swung aside with a groan, and Cothi ushered us in.

“I hope you all have a pleasant stay,” the woman said, tone bright as ever. “If there’s anything you need just say the word, and should you get hungry there’s a tavern only two doors north of here.”

The room held two large beds, both wide enough for at least four people to sleep comfortably on each. A window stood shuttered on the far side of the room, and a chest lay beneath it, tall enough to reach my knees and wider than both Gwyn and I standing beside one another.

“Thank you my lady,” Lleu said politely, giving the woman a slight bow of his head. “This will do wonderfully.”

The woman practically preened under his praise. “Oh, I do hope so. As I said, let me know should you need anything more. I’ll make sure to make whatever it is a priority.”

And with that, she handed the key to Lleu and left, closing the door gently behind her. Lleu made a gesture towards his two sailors and the men began methodically searching the room, opening the chest, looking under the bed covers, tapping lightly at the walls and floorboards until Lleu was satisfied.

“Wait outside,” Lleu said when the men were done. “Don’t let anyone enter until I tell you otherwise.”

“Yes sir,” the men said, then left to guard our room.

“So,” I began as the door shut behind them. “There was something important you neglected to tell us? About the high king’s presence?”

“Lleu didn’t respond for a moment, continuing to tap at the walls as if he was still uncertain of our privacy.

“Yes,” he finally said, sitting on the edge of one of the beds and gesturing for us to sit on the one opposite. “You see, Aelius left no legitimate heir to claim the throne after his death, only a distant relative with as much claim to Caer LlysBran as any other lord’s son.”

I frowned at that. “But Gwyn,” Lleu raised a threatening eyebrow at my use of that name. “Sorry, I mean Caerwyn,” I corrected. “Shouldn’t he have the greatest right to the throne?” I couldn’t call myself a scholar, or even a bard for that matter,, but I at least could figure that much out.

Lleu, however, shook his head. “It is, unfortunately, not so simple.”

“Why not?” Gwyn, Caerwyn, I mentally corrected myself, said. “I'm here, and I’m the prince. What about that isn’t simple?”

“It's a matter of legal recognition, I’m afraid,” Lleu said with a shigh, shaking his head. “The people and nobility of TyrMab believed you dead for many years, so, for one, it will be difficult to convince those who matter that you are who you say you are.”

“I thought that was why the Romans were looking for him though,” I said, frowning further. “They realized that Gwy- Caerwyn survived. Why else would they be willing to burn a whole town just to get to him?”

“Because they were afraid,” Lleu said calmly, voice edged with a bit of ice. “With Rome fallen, there are few places left where their kind still thrive. Given how Aelius took power in the first place, even the possibility of the lost prince returning to exact his revenge was a threat they couldn’t ignore.”

“That makes sense,” Caerwyn said, scratching at the pale stubble on his chin.

“But why keep any of this a secret?” I asked, not yet satisfied. “And why is the high king himself bothering to take an interest in this? Ynys Manus is the smallest isle in his archipelago. It hardly seems worth the effort.”

“The watcher stones,” Lleu said softly. “Each man or woman with a claim to the throne they wish to act upon will supplicate themselves before the stones and the high king for judgment, facing each of the three trials with their champions by their sides, until one remains to claim the throne.”

I snorted. “Right, the stones will choose who the next king will be. Next you’ll be telling me to watch for the fae hiding under this bed. Please, we all know this magical stuff is all nonsense, just tell us-” I cut off as Lleu suddenly stood and pressed a finger into the center of my temple, his skin cold as ice against mine, sending a shudder down my spine.

“Nonsense, you say,” Lleu said, his voice taking on a distant quality, as if speaking to me from the other side of a dream. Gwyn gave me a wide eye’d look of fear, but I did my best to let my own fright show. There was nothing to be afraid of after all.

“Here’s some advice, boy,” he said, then suddenly pressed harder against my forehead, and a bright spot of pain lanced through my head. Colors blurred together in my vision, shapes distorting until they disappeared, leaving me in a multicolored haze. Then, his eyes opened, and stared directly into mine, Lleu’s silver-blue gaze like a pair of knife blades cutting into my soul. I screamed, making no sound, and then his voice was all around me once again.

“Take care when you speak of the fae, my kind take to insults far more personally than yours.” His voice was like a thousand stones clacking together in my mind, overwhelming me like the ocean tide on a narrow beach. Just as I felt myself drowning, I blinked, and Lleu was sitting calmly across from me, hands folded in his lap.

“Now, do you believe me, or are you just going to insult me again?” He asked, arching one sharp brow. All I could manage was a simple nod in reply. Gwyn only looked slightly confused, not scared as I’d thought he might have been, but perhaps Lleu had only shown that all to me.

“Good,” Lleu said. “Shall we start the lessons then?”