“Do you still insist on giving her the seat of your wife?” Morique Sergel, the provisional head of the Sergel house, asked her son. “I have received news that all the other houses they sent the proposal to have only agreed to make her a concubine at most. Not surprising, considering her condition.”
“Regardless of her condition, I still insist, Mother,” Arakan said. “We have been the closest to the Moras house. And instead of taking a greedy approach like the others, it is better to give them some consideration. That way, not only would we gain their voluntary support, the chance of creating grievances would be little.” He frowned as he looked down at the city from the terrace where they just finished their breakfast. “Besides, lady Sena is my friend. I can’t see her wed those incompetent swine and become their concubine of all things.”
“Really? Is that the only reason?” Morique rested her face on her palm, studying Arakan’s face with piercing blue eyes. “And what about the little lover you have been hiding from us? Are you willing to leave her?”
Arakan’s heart jumped to her throat. His mother, she knew? “How…?”
“Oh my dear son, you are still too green if you think you can hide such things from me.” Morique gave a burst of trilling laughter. “I have known about you two since a year ago. From what I know, your relationship isn’t simple pleasure-seeking. You seem to truly love her. So answer my question, are you willing to leave her?”
Arakan’s jaw firmed up. He stared at his mother with unshakable determination. “I won’t leave her.”
Morique raised an eyebrow. “She is a butcher’s daughter, of all things. You should know that with her status, she is unsuited to be your lover, not to mention your concubine.”
“Her status doesn’t matter, mother, I won’t give her up!”
“My son, everyone fools around when they are young, but you should know you have a responsibility to the house, as well as an image to uphold. Learn to stop while you’re ahead, otherwise…” A cruel spark shone in Morique’s eyes.
Arakan glared at her. It took a while for him to regain his calm. “Mother,” he began at a slow and deliberate pace. “I love her and I am not going to leave her. And today I swear on my honour as a noble, if anything ever happens to Laureen, I will cut all my ties with the Sergel name and never set foot in this house again.”
Morique stiffened, her relaxed stance disappearing in an instant. “What are you saying!”
“You know full well of what I speak. I don’t care to elaborate on that.” Arakan paused, taking a moment to calm himself. “Our family supports Her Majesty the queen. You do remember what she spent her early days as, don’t you? A homeless street urchin.”
“Arakan!” Morique’s eyes widened. “Don’t ever mention that again! Besides, that and this are entirely different.”
“In my eyes, there’s no difference,” Arakan shook his head. “Anyway, my intent is decided. I won’t leave her. But that isn’t the subject we should be discussing now. Please write a response to accept the proposal. We should imply our full support to them while demanding as little as possible.”
“Why should I?”
“Please!” Arakan bowed. “As long as you agree to it, I will take up the responsibility of the head of the house.”
Monique fell silent. After her husband died to the Fade, Arakan had always declined the position no matter how they tried to convince him. But now…
“Alright. If you are that determined, I won’t try to stop you,” she said, leaning back in her polished ashwood chair. “I can tell you are planning something, but remember, whatever you are planning, be very careful.” She gazed at the tall and elaborate buildings made of fanciful stoneworks and even fancier colours, standing apart from each other. The noble section of the city of Valar was always a joy to watch. “Things in the capital are moving in unexpected and dangerous directions. You know about the Ancrombe house?”
“How can I not? They have been one of our allies since the beginning.”
“Not for long. My sources tell me they are testing the waters while trying to muddy it at the same time. Their intentions are already shifting.” Morique sighed. “Well, they certainly are not the only one, but they are the most…” She trailed off, turning towards Arakan. “You should remember the incident that happened in the capital a few months ago, the abduction of Sena Moras.”
Arakan nodded. “I helped in her rescue. That was how we became friends.”
“Inquiries revealed the involvement of a few minor noble houses in the incident, but there’s enough reason to suspect someone pulling the string from behind. And although nothing was concluded, one of the prime suspects is the Ancrombe house.”
“But why? What is their intention?” Arakan asked, frowning. “During the days of rebellion, they also supported the rise of Her Majesty. It doesn’t make sense for them to stir up trouble now.”
Monique shook her head. “As long as they find a better opportunity, people are willing to change sides all the time. Especially us nobles. Besides, all of this is only mere speculation without evidence, so while I want you to keep these in mind, you don’t need to worry about it. Just one thing is for certain. The matter of Sena Moras’s marriage. It has been the subject of heavy scrutiny of the people of the capital. A good source of gossip, too. Especially since the house Scarva went and made an ass themselves recently.”
“House Scarva? Aren’t they the merchant nobles that betrayed house Moras over a petty squabble?”
“That is just a rumour,” Morique said. “It isn’t some grand betrayal or a petty squabble. Their heir did some… undesirable things and caused public outrage in Brigsar, forcing them to withdraw. Though they’ve certainly been trying to ruin house Moras’s name ever since. They even sent a marriage proposal of their own to the Moras house, no doubt to humiliate them.” She covered her mouth, hiding a smirk. “They suffered a crushing embarrassment instead.”
“They also sent a Marriage proposal?” Arakan tapped his chin thoughtfully. “As far as I am aware, only a few houses actually received the proposal, so how come lady Sena’s marriage became such a huge matter all of a sudden? Even if somehow the news leaked…”
“Someone fanned the flames. And I’m positive I know who it was,” Morique said, looking at her son from the corner of her eyes. “It was the house Ancrombe.”
Bloody and bruised, Arda stumbled through the woods. Thorny shrubs full of tiny red flowers hindered her path, some of them snagging at the last scraps covering her body, but she could hardly care now. The gate! She had to make it to the gate!
Some bushes at the edge of her shivered. She stopped, crouching like a beast as her alarmed eyes scoured the surrounding forest. Nothing moved, but she still waited with bated breath, fighting against the urge to start running again. Time slipped from her hand slowly but surely, and with it the opportunity to reach the gates. Whether someone hid in the bushes or not, if she couldn’t reach the gate in time, only a more terrible fate awaited her.
She gritted her teeth and stood up, preparing to run again. A figure rushed out of the bushes behind her. She ducked, narrowly dodging the knife thrust at her back, and drove her right leg right below the assailant’s sternum. The girl crumpled, coughing her guts out.
An electrifying sensation ran up Arda’s spine. Her blood boiled with excitement, turning her vision a lurid shade of crimson. She sprang up and thrust her knee into the assailant’s face, feeling her nose cave in with a resounding crunch. Straddling the girl, she pinned her hands and pried the knife out of them. She plunged it down, piercing flesh again and again until the assailant’s blood dyed her red. She continued stabbing long after her assailant had stopped struggling, continued until her blood cooled down and her vision turned normal again.
Arda looked at the face of her victim. The slashes of the knife she had made left it mangled and unrecognizable, but she would remember those lifeless hazel eyes from anywhere. They used to be so bright once when they were sharing a meal, laughing together, struggling together, and together making the best out of the torturous life forced upon them.
The excitement of the kill dulled. Arda studied the blood-soaked knife before tucking it into the sash. Who knew when it might come useful again. She shuffled to her feet and resumed her running.
The gate was still so far!
Jolted awake from her sleep, Arda rubbed both her palms against her face vigorously, trying to wipe that wet sensation away. Her heart galloped like a thoroughbred horse as she brought her shaking palm close to the flickering bonfire and stared at them.
Sweat! It was only sweat, not blood!
She released a repressed breath and laid back down. Ever since the day they confronted the Shadewolf, she had begun dreading the thought of falling asleep. Because whenever her eyes closed, these nightmares sent her back to those days of her childhood when...
“Arda!” A hand fell on her shoulder. The long and narrow knife flickered into her hand as she sent a quick thrust behind her, stopping just a few inches before Erhan’s face, who looked completely unfazed by the attempt.
Arda’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’m so terribly sorry, druid, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s your turn to keep watch. Go and call Garan in.”
“Ah! Right away, druid,” she said, rising to her feet, and making her way towards the mouth of the cave. Her eyes lingered on the knife in her hand. It did come useful. It came useful so many times throughout her life.
Erhan narrowed his eyes as he watched her leave. After Arban was… abducted, he had offered the other three a chance to leave. But they seemed determined to continue this journey with him. Harker’s motivations were simple and honest. But it was the other two that worried him. Garan’s motivations were unclear, but he seemed to have his reason; however, Arda…
With that much darkness hidden in her heart, she really was someone to watch out for.
He returned to his seat, closing his eyes, and was already deep into meditation when Garan stepped inside the cave. In his mind, various specks of light floated around, red and green and blue and yellow; all kinds of colours whizzing and zipping around like fireflies. Spirit vision. The spell that had left her at the verge of nausea a few months ago, then barely managed to faze him now. His control had improved a lot. Good thing too, since the perils of the path are increasing constantly.
“Welcome to Brigsar, sir Arakan. I hope your travel has been a safe one,” Hubrik bowed towards the young man sitting on a chair inside the great hall of the castle.
“That it has been,” Arakan said with a slight dip of his head. “We had a favourable tailwind, so the journey went swifter than we anticipated.”
“Ah, I see! I must say we weren’t expecting you to arrive so early, so my lord couldn’t greet you personally,“ Hubrik said. “But you must be exhausted. And it is better to keep the meetings for when you are refreshed. I will immediately prepare warm water and accommodations for you.”
“You have my thanks then. Please prepare some for these gentlemen too,” Arakan said, gesturing at the ten lightly armoured men standing behind him. “And also the men outside. They deserve some care too.”
“Of course, my lord. You don’t have to worry about that.” Hubrik nodded, glancing curiously at the elegantly dressed, veiled woman sitting beside Arakan.
“Ah, and allow me to introduce you.” Arakan took the white satin covered hand of the woman and ushered her to stand with him. “This is my distant cousin, Laurania Singhar. Please make sure her treatment is no lesser than mine.” He leaned in towards hubrik, whispering in his ears in a conspiratory manner, “She is from a village, from one of those farmer noble families. So she’s a bit dum—” his face twisted as he felt a painful pinch on the side of his hand. He gulped, changing his wording a little. “her mannerisms are pretty… rough. She also doesn’t speak much. So please take that into consideration.”
“As you wish, lord Arakan.” If Hubrik noticed the minor exchange between the two, he gave no indication of it. He instructed a servant to lead the guards to their accommodations as he personally led them towards the eastern halls prepared for special guests.
The only knowledge of a noble’s home Laurania or rather, Laureen had was the lavish and spacious halls of Arakan’s personal retreat. Compared to that, the stone corridors they travelled through seemed… narrower. small, slitlike windows let in thin shafts of sunlight, doing little to brighten the cold stones. And although they were as clean as can be, the decorations were modest at best. A few paintings of people she assumed were the older generations of the Moras house, and tapestries. Long rows of brightly coloured tapestries covering up the walls on both sides. Curious, she stared at the various images of charging cavalries, defending and attacking castles, infantries fighting bloody wars on the fields, images of battle intricately woven on each and every tapestry.
“These are our history,” Hubrik said, noticing her gaze. “A history of endless battle. The history of the warrior nobles, as well as the land of Clover.”
Hubrik led them forward where the corridor opened up to a spacious, circular hall. He took out a bunch of keys and opened two side-by-side doors of the dozen or so lining the walls. “These are your accommodations. I have sent for the servants to fetch you some warm water. Meanwhile, you should take a rest.”
As the old steward’s back disappeared through the corridor, Arakan and Laureen looked at each other.
“I am a bit dumb, am I?” Laureen asked testily.
“What? No!” Arakan shook his head. “Who said that?”
Laureen scowled for a moment before giving a dismissive wave of her hand. “So when are you going to meet this would-be wife of yours?” she asked. “I really want to see what kind of girl she is, for you to go through all this trouble. You even snatched me away from my house, forcing me to tag along with you. I honestly thought we were eloping.”
Arakan laughed out loud. “You know I would only do more for you,” he said. “And the matter of bringing you here, I did it for your own safety.”
“But why? You told me my family would be safe, then why would I be in…” she stopped, noticing a few men and women approaching from the corridor. They brought towels, cloths, two pails of steaming water with them.
“They are here.” Arakan sighed in relief. He truly preferred to stay away from that conversation. If she knew his own mother was the one who would put her in danger...
“I hope they have something less restricting than this.” Laureen pulled at the intricate, ocean green gown she wore. “These clothes are stuffy and uncomfortable. I liked the clothes we wore during our travel far better.”
“Well, you will have to get used to them for when we meet Lord Robert, or any higher status member of the Morus house for that matter.”
Laureen twisted her lips. “Sounds like such a pain.”
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