Joel searched her face, looking for any answer or reminder of who she was.
The noblewoman was young enough to be the baron’s daughter. Her face had all the undeniable markings of a noble — high, sharp cheekbones matched with a meticulous symmetry. Her hazel eyes caught you, a hint of laughter hiding behind them. Sitting with the perfect posture, she carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew the value of their position in the world.
“Uh, hah,” he chuckled nervously as his mind was still scrambling. Feeling like an intern who’d been asked a question that he should know the answer to, he activated his emergency plan: Nod and agree. “Ah, well-met, my lady. What a blessing to meet once more.”
That should do it.
The faint smile on the noblewoman’s face broke wider. Amusement tickled from her alert eyes. Setting down her spoon, she clasped her hands on the table; a garnet bracelet dangled from her wrist.
“I am surprised you remember me,” she said, the tone of her voice light and firm. “I must have left quite the impression.”
With her stunning features, he imagined her face wasn’t easily forgotten. Perhaps a former guest at the lodge? The damage from his fight with the Burton Gang and the recovery coma must have truly done a number on him. He’d pivot to flattery.
“Of course.” He bowed again. “It is not often one witnesses the refined grace and beauty of a noblewoman.”
She let out a chuckle. “You don’t remember me then.”
Sweat trickled down his back. He didn’t know what to say, sharing desperate looks at his equally confused companions.
Thankfully, it was the baron who came to his aid.
“By the stones, Syr Ysobelle, stop toying with the poor lad,” said Ulrain as he took another bite of breakfast. “He’s clearly a foreigner here.” The beefy baron turned to Al. “I wasn’t aware the League had guilds in the Thousand Isles.”
Al shook his head. “He’s our porter, only here to help with any necessary transport.”
“But on the road,” Ysobelle interrupted, still looking at Joel. “This wasn’t the group you were travelling with. What happened to them? That dwarf looked like deadly work with that cutlass.”
She meant Boreth. It clicked for Joel why she’d been smirking the whole time and why she’d scoffed at the idea of him ‘witnessing’ her beauty. All of it had been masked behind a gleaming helm. On horseback, her slight frame — hidden under heavy plate armor — had towered over him.
The knights who’d happened upon him, Boreth, and Perri.
He felt the others staring at him in curiosity. While he was surprised, this was actually a question that Joel had been ruminating on, mostly in case the party asked him whether he remembered what happened before he got hurt. It’d suffice here.
“I remember you now,” Joel said slowly. “On the road to Wardenhal, you’d come across my group at the time.”
Ysobelle gave a satisfied smile like watching someone piece together a puzzle. “Now you remember. You have my apologies for Syr Lannwald’s behavior that day. Long travel on the road tends to fray one’s wits.”
That name was easier to recall. The knight who’d given them a difficult time on the road, who’d seemed to know all the right ways to press Boreth’s buttons, enough to make the dwarf almost draw steel. However, a searching glance around the hall revealed that no such annoyance was present.
“Apologies again, our camp suffered an ambush from a terrible beast. I barely remember anything at all. I don’t even know what happened to my old companions.” Stitching together a believable story with bits of truth, he gestured to his new associates. “I only know that I have these Freewalkers to thank for saving my life.”
Ulrain frowned. “A beast? Attacking good travellers in my land? What manner of creature was this?”
“All I heard was its growl and its claws against my back.” Joel tried to keep his tone and the fib as rueful as possible.
“A formidable creature if it was able to overcome your dwarven companion.” Ysobelle raised her brow. “I’ve seen their favored blades at work. Each captain I’ve come across was an experienced duelist.”
“Another reason I’m alive then.” The thought of Boreth nearly hewn in half made him grimace.
A sigh escaped the baron’s chewing mouth. “Perhaps another contract that I will have open with the League. But let us speak to the present issue that plagues my people.”
Al nodded his agreement. “We’ve heard that there is trouble within the mines?”
“That’s partly true,” Ulrain replied, twisting the ring on his finger. “The tin mine under Perellan prison had to be closed. Aside from bleeding my coffers dry, the closure is making my prisoners restless.” Motioning for one of the servants to clear his plate, the baron took another hearty drink, his face flush. It was early for wine. “Last thing the scum needs are idle hands.”
Alis was more forward. “What’s down there?”
“We don’t know. There’s a strange miasma leaking into my mine from somewhere deeper. Our efforts to pinpoint the origin have been fruitless as the air is poison.” Ulrain scowled his disgust. “Anyone we’ve sent in either return clawing at their throats or don’t come back at all.”
“Some of the townsfolk mentioned you using prisoners?” Alis had her personable smile out but the accusation was obvious.
“Don’t paint me as cruel for it. Each prisoner who volunteered was offered time off their sentence, which is my right as lord of Wardenhal. Not a single soul has gone down there unwillingly.”
A look of worried focus came across Siv’s face. “Have there been others than your men or prisoners who have attempted to delve further into the mines? Freewalkers before us?”
The baron’s frown deepened. “Yes, one group. A trio alongside a prisoner. But it’s been days now. Truly unfortunate. I believed that they would’ve succeeded.”
Al folded his arms across his chest, chainmail clinking and brow creasing. “So someone volunteered to go down with them? And the Freewalkers accepted?”
“You’d be surprised how popular the prisoner is.” Ulrain glanced towards Ysobelle sipping her drink. It was an obvious look but she remained unbothered. “Nevertheless, the prisoner is quite capable. Not only that, there were some Tier 3s, as you Freewalkers like to denote yourself, amongst the sent party. They seemed to approve of the prisoner.”
Siv looked flabbergasted. “Capable? So the prisoner wasn’t a porter then?”
“Like I said, they approved of the man.” Ulrain shrugged as he wiped his mouth.
“They shouldn’t have,” Al said, his tone serious. “The League discourages taking outsiders along, beyond providing transport of wares. The risk aside, there’s no guarantee that the prisoner wouldn’t simply get in their way.”
Joel caught Alis staring at him, her brow furrowed. Trying his best to be friendly, he returned a shaky smile, only for her to narrow her eyes before turning back to the conversation. She must’ve still been pissed about yesterday, though he’d been racking his brain at exactly why what he said was wrong. All he asked about was a spellbook.
“You need not worry about that,” Ysobelle interrupted. “The prisoner who went with them wouldn’t impede them. If anything, they probably got in his way.”
“High praise.” Al still looked unimpressed.
“Deserved praise,” Ysobelle said calmly. “Not everyday one gets to work with Wirbald Rothwin.”
“The guildmaster of the Rosnay guild?” Alis’ surprise was obvious. The same surprise was evident on Al and her brother. “Here?”
“Former guildmaster,” Ulrain said, pausing for effect. “But now you understand why neither the Freewalkers nor I were concerned about Wirbald being deadwood to them. If I’m not mistaken, one doesn’t become a guildmaster without a measure of skill.”
Sivren nodded. “It is a position earned. No one becomes a Freewalker guildmaster by accident.”
“A position lost,” corrected the baron.
“But it makes the fact that they haven’t returned more worrisome,” said Al, sharing a troubled look with the others before turning back to the high table. “Have you sent any other people since?”
Ulrain shook his head, running a hand through his neat beard. “I didn’t want to risk further untrained lives until more Freewalkers arrived.”
“Willing to risk our lives though,” Alis muttered quietly. A reproachful glare from Sivren silenced her.
“We’ll locate the origin of the fumes, and if possible, remove it.” Despite how serious the situation had been explained as, Al appeared confident.
“You’ll have a way past the miasma?” Ulrain asked.
“We do. Alis has magical capabilities of handling that,” Al replied, tapping a gloved fist against his chest plate. With deference, he bowed his head to Ulrain. “We have your leave to enter the mine?”
“You do.” Ulrain raised his goblet at Al. Joel was about to turn until the burly baron continued. “Syr Alarion, you rode with the Redclove Company during your tour? The same that fought at the Battle of Aga?”
Al hesitated before answering. “Yes, my lord. I earned my stones with them.”
“Then, before you risk life and limb, I request that you amuse an old man and share tales over some cups.” There was a soft plea in his rumbling voice, as if he had been waiting the whole time to ask Al.
“Of course, Lord Valgruv.” After bowing his head at the baron, Al turned to the others. “I’ll join you at the inn by mid-day.”
By the time they’d left the walls of the castle, the morning drizzle had halted and sunlight shone through passing clouds. Meanwhile, Joel was bursting with questions. He’d thought he’d been holding onto secrets, but it appeared everyone had weighty ones of their own.
Thinking that he was the only one with secrets was foolish. However, when you had one as big as his, it was hard to care about others’ secrets. Despite that, he couldn’t stop his curiosity from spilling out.
“So Al, or Alarion, is a nobleman then?” He tried to sound casual.
“Al’s the second son of Count Havret,” Sivren replied as they walked through the ever-busy streets. “One of the most prominent nobles in northern Lorent.” He continued before Joel could ask a follow up question. “Alis and I were wards of House Havret. We all grew up together, it was a happier time.”
“Is it usual for a nobleman’s son and wards to become Freewalkers?” Joel asked, hoping it wasn’t too intrusive.
“Younger children of nobles, ones who stand to inherit nothing, will search for fortunes elsewhere.” Sivren paused in front of a desperate vagrant, who was holding his arm out for alms. Taking a coin from his pouch, he pressed it against the man’s palm. “The Freewalkers League is one such way.”
Alis ran up to the same beggar, mirroring her brother’s kindness. “Be well, friend.” With a few brisk steps, she caught up to them, a dimpled smile across her face.
Turning back to Sivren, Joel was still curious. “So that’s what Al and you did? Joined the Freewalkers to search for fortune and glory?”
“Hah, you’ve been with us for a while. Not much fortune and glory to go around,” Siv chuckled, though Joel noticed he didn’t answer the question. “Al has always been one we could rely upon, even in our childhood. Always the first one to back you in a fight and the last one to leave your side.”
Goddamn superhero by the sounds of it.
“Almost seems like he’s too good to be true.”
“You’re telling me. He was a miracle for my sister and I,” Sivren reminisced as he massaged an old scar on his hand. “Those like me, those like my sister, he saved us when he didn’t have to. I’ll always be grateful that he found us in that alleyway.” He went quiet, uninviting any further questions about that. Honestly, it felt rude to pry anyway.
“What was all that about tours?” Breaking the silence, Joel pivoted the conversation slightly.
“Tour of Stones, rite of passage for young Lorent nobles.” Sivren shrugged, as if he didn’t care for it. “They serve with local mercenary companies for a full campaign. Most noblefolk will sneer at one who hasn’t earned their jewels.”
“Jewels?”
“The stones are jewels, three earned for milestones within a tour.” Sivren stepped out of the way of an incoming cart, pulled by large oxen.
“Like the emerald on his greatsword?” Joel followed the sidestep, letting the cart pass.
“You’re perceptive.” The frank tone made it hard to tell if Sivren was complimenting or criticizing him. “Yes, an emerald is the first stone gifted when one begins a tour. Families usually spend the most on that one since it might be the last gift they give. Something Al didn’t have to worry about.” His voice became softer. “His tour was quick compared to most.”
“So the Redcloves were who Al served with?”
Sivren nodded as he skipped over a large puddle. “Famed for a mercenary company. It’s no surprise that the baron wanted to mince more words with Al. Not that Al is going to particularly enjoy it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Al isn’t fond of talking about what happened during his time with the Redcloves,” Alis interrupted, appearing next to Joel. Perhaps she was starting to be less upset about yesterday. At least she wasn’t glaring at him. “He doesn’t even bring it up with us.”
“Probably not easy to talk about whatever happened.” Joel paused, thinking of his deadly duel against Bhas, the sheer exhaustion of combat. He caught their intrigued looks, matching his earlier curiosity. “Oh, I mean, considering he’s probably seen a lot of combat and all. I got attacked by a bear and can hardly remember it.”
“I thought you told the baron you didn’t see what attacked you.” Alis tilted her head at him.
Damn it.
“I didn’t see it.” The thoughts weren’t thinking fast enough. “Like I said, I just heard a growl and felt its slash. Sounded like a bear.” Amazing. Sounded like a bear. Absolutely amazing.
To his thankful surprise, both Alis and Sivren didn’t press any further as they turned a busy corner. Maybe he was becoming a better liar than he thought.
The streets’ loud clamor swallowed their voices, so they walked in silence. Clopping horse hooves and the yells of the town crier only added to the racket. In all of that din, the familiar clink of a rusty spear rang out.
Joel spun at the sound. His hand reached for a missing sword and his eyes searched the nearby crowd. A young girl rang a bell while selling flowers. Nothing else but other busy townsfolk going about their day.
He held the side of his head, taking another look at his HP. Perhaps he wasn’t fully recovered as he thought.
“Think I can squeeze a nap in before Al gets back?”
