The next day dawned bright and cheerful. No sunlight filtering through the canopy in a pitiful caricature of dawn! No wondering if a forest lion or a feral hog was going to spring through the ferns from 10 feet away!

  He could see again and took a moment to breathe in the early morning honeysuckle, tilled earth and the sweet scent of ripening grapes. Divine.

  And perhaps, he wasn’t the only one thinking such for the men packed up just that little bit faster and were on the road with a little extra pep in their step. A flatbread pocket filled with stew in their hands and weapons on their shoulders.

  Up the river road they walked, looking out over glassy water that had a slightly different smell than Ethan had grown used to. The Silberstrom’s mountain roots were close here, and something of it filled the air. Crisp and clean while the background chuckling rang out from whitened crests and frequent rapids.

  Till the gates of Auenland the city began to loom overhead.

  It was fortified, as all cities were, with high stone walls and protruding towers. But only two circles of walls from what he could see. Considerably smaller than Obstgartenfeld but with a vital, almost vicious air about it that the larger city lacked.

  For all they were only 35 feet high, they were well striped with scars. Two towers that he could see bore significantly lighter stones for sections of their top half, while the gates themselves, iron-bound hardwood, looked far younger than the walls around them.

  It wasn’t uniform damage, being clustered and focused to the south west where the city fronted the river. But it was telling.

  For all that it was the regional capitol. This was no unblooded hive of fat, rich Riverlander’s. This was a frontier fortress. And one that had been tried and while bloodied in the doing, it was not found wanting.

  The gate guards, having cleared the queues as they approached, stood in a line to either side, saluting hand to chest.

  Huh.

  “I say, are being buttered up for something?” Andrew muttered, sotto voice.

  Ethan nodded. If barely. He much preferred that to be fattened up. But in either case they weren’t getting through the town unnoticed. Not that he’d expected to.

  Hoped perhaps, but not expected.

  He did the only thing he could do, rode to the head of the column and let his mare prance her way forward. Head held straight and high, aside from a small nod of acknowledgment to the officer of the watch.

  The gate opened into a very short tunnel, 10 feet thick at best, and into a fifty-foot-long courtyard. A second set of open gates, a match for those outside, lay opposite the entrance and another 50 feet of space extended to either side. Less gatehouse and more staging ground. An offensive choice rather than the typical murderhole-lined choke point.

  Both had their place. But a glance to either side told an additional part of the story. The gates was inset a bit, but the walls around it were still only some 20 feet thick. A substantial wall, but a far cry from Obstegartenfeld, much less the Capital. Age told when it came to cores and defenses.

  But if the walls were somewhat beneath his expectations, then the guards on them were quite the opposite. There were no tier 0 militia here. Tier 1 Hastati intermixed with Bowman and Rangers with decurions frequently in the second tier.

  Formidable.

  The town inside those walls opened up before them as they passed the second gate. The usual four or five-story buildings packed together into a nearly indistinguishable mass. Stone for the most part, but with wooden beams and roof tresses peaking out here and there.

  Elaboratly carved wooden beams and roof tresses. With mythical figures, knotwork and blessing symbols prominently featured. A nod and a touchstone to the local culture, no doubt.

  And a needed one. Because this city would fit in the Heartlands. Complete with an overabundance of blue core light as its only illumination.

  They rode forward easily, the missing basics finally appearing as guardsmen with the shoulder scarves of the guardia in decade strength to lead the way, clearing the tunnel like streets in the process. The people moved aside easily, bowing or knuckling their foreheads.

  There were no objections nor sullen looks. But there were no cheerful smiles of welcome either. It was a bit surprising how well he’d acclimated to the local culture, but to not hear the sheer noise of music, celebration and exuberant life struck him as severely unusual.

  They rode inward for several streets, then turned north, circling perhaps a quarter segment of the city before turning inward again. Emerging from the dense buildings and the rats’ warren of tunnels under them for a moment into a cleared killing ground in front of the second set of walls.

  Like many such, the defensive necessity stood second use as a public gathering place. For social events, militia training, which he saw many a local craftsman participating in with a will, and even to graze small herds of chickens, geese and pigs. A practice that saw those same animals quartered in the townsmen’s homes afterward. Ethan reflected with a shudder as they drew to a temporary halt.

  “Sir Leosige, Sir Conner after the men are settled and released to leave you can follow them. Sir Andrew has the camp till moonrise, then decide between you who will relieve him.”

  “Sir Guile, bodyguard detail. Speak as little as you can get away with and keep your eyes open.”

  Ermina broke in. “Count Auenland is not Duke Obstagartenfeld. He may have poor intentions. Likely has poor intentions.” She allowed, her privacy skill fully in evidence. “But he’ll not hide them. He’ll burn a castle down and salt its land. But he’ll do it looking its owner in the eye. Not with a borrowed knife to the back.”

  Ethan nodded. Taking her at her word. But he caught Guile’s eye and didn’t change his instructions. Better to be overcareful than not careful enough. Besides, if the count arranged one of those minor challenges nobility loved to sing and write about, he’d have the right tool handy for the job.

  “Question? Then let’s be about it.”

  The column broke off quickly, wagons guided into marked lots along the green while the men streamed into a dozen taverns and inns. Both Bandsman and Basics would get a break this time and the last such they were like to see for quite some time. Pay had been dispensed the previous night and if a quarter of the men came back with coin still in their purses, he’d take a vow of chastity!

  Of the rest, only Ethan, Guile, Ermina, Rainer and a quartet of Lancers continued onward. Trading the guardia guides for a pair of squires in the Count's colors, their tabards quartered with house crests of nearby nobles.

  The new guards offered brief but politely correct, greetings before leading them forward into another city tunnel. One slightly wider than the outer city and sporting larger residences and shops along it, but otherwise much the same.

  Till they turned abruptly and began to circle upwards along a steep stone ramp. It circled for a long while before they broke out into the sunlight once more, and began to ride forward through a very different world. Manicured decorative Gardens, though ones that still bore edible produce, stretched out around them, dotted by small manor houses here and there.

  Status symbols, those. They looked small if you didn’t think of the 5 stories beneath them. All of which would be owned by the same noble house or, in very rare situations, a rich merchant.

  Still, it made for a pleasant ride as they traveled forward and across a wide drawbridge into the Count’s keep. It was a wide drawbridge at that and glancing off its side revealed another wide green that doubled as a killing ground and even a moat on its inner edge. The Keeps below was less building and more defensive wall. Unbroken by windows, it was a nearly featureless expanse of black stone broken only by a single visible gate and a few arrow slits.

  But above?

  That was a far different story. Twelve marble white towers rose a further three stories above the greenery with slender elegance before being bridged back to the keep proper in flying buttresses. The keep itself was a marvel that began as a practical defensive structure, and while it yet remained that, it had given up a bit of it in exchange for comfort and beauty.

  Ethan gave the slender sky-reaching spires a second look. That had to be core work. Building stone that high and still having enough space inside it to be useful had to be beyond mortal hands.

  Even highly skilled ones.

  He shrugged. Not that it mattered. It made for a truly breathtaking view of seemingly impossible elegance.

  Then they were through the entrance and past another set of guards. A full decade of tier 2’s. As guards. That was impressive. Deliberately so, he shouldn’t wonder, though at least the decurion wasn’t a tier 3!

  That would have been just profligate.

  A steward met them inside the entry hall and, with kind words and gentle tutting, directed them to a side hallway and to an open room beyond that. Where chilled wine and light snacks were offered and baths prepared. With the Lancers posted outside the door, neither Ethan nor Ermina were loath to take advantage of either offer.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  Ermina quickly disrobed and slipped into the waiting pool of steaming water. Ethan took considerably longer. It wasn’t a quick thing, even with a helpful servant, one knowledgeable in armor at that, assisting.

  By the time he was free Ermina had been joined in the water by an unclothed, lithe yet elegantly shapely maidservant working a sponge across her back.

  Ethan paused to enjoy the scene for a moment, and Ermina’s blush when he noticed but, with the count waiting, he couldn’t afford to do more than look.

  He quickly slipped into the steaming water and permitted the second maidservant to work at his back with no complaints.

  “My Lord?” A voice called out softly.

  A third maidservant stood beside their clothing and the stand of Ethan's armor. “May we take your clothes for cleaning? It won’t take a quarter hour.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. That was impressively fast. Then again, a place like this likely had even housekeepers in the 2nd tier.

  “Yes, and take the armor outside to My Lord’s guards along with the appropriate oils and polish.” Ermina directed.

  Ethan shrugged. Lancers weren’t servants, nor pages or squires. But they were a bit short of time and he’d make it up to them. Not like they didn’t have the skills to handle it. But he did make a point of pulling the sword belt closer to the bath's edge. That he’d not be without.

  It wasn’t long before he had to regretfully step out of the bath. There was something more than just hot water in it that had loosened his muscles quite nicely.

  That and the view made him wish he could stay longer. Considerably longer.

  Ah well. Needs must.

  The maidservants emerged dripping with them and quickly retrieved towels and patted them both dry, before moving to help them dress.

  Soon enough, she was dressed and he armored. And both followed a page through a series of branching hallways. Then the hallway expanded outward into a 20 feet wide space with a large pair of double doors at the far end. Rainer and the Lancers broke off towards a waiting room where a number of other bodyguards and no few advisors sat while the three nobles continued on.

  As Ethans foot crossed the threshold, an iron-shod staff of office struck the floor. “Announcing Baronet Ethan and sa-Baronetess Ermina formerly of Rivervald now of Alfwin Pass.”

  “Announcing Knight Guile of the same.”

  The throne room, for that was what this hall was, expanded before them in a large rectangle more than double as long as it was wide. Two rows of columns held up the arched roof 20 feet overhead. One to either side and raised up two steps. Bedecked with an array of banners and tapestries on their white with red marbling. Between them an expanse of white stone bore a crimson red carpet like a gaping wound down its center.

  A wound that led to another set of steps and to a tall gold-chased marble throne engraved with a single sword above the head of its owner.

  Marcellus, 5th of his name, defender of the Northwest and by the Emperor's grace the Count of Auenland.

  He was a burly man in his late 80’s. Not that you could tell with but a bit of gray in his shoulder-length hair and neatly kept beard. In the still massively muscled physique of a man who wore heavy armor more often than not. And had done so for his entire life. Off, and more frequently, on the battlefield. He was reputedly halfway through the 4rth tier and with a reasonable chance at making the fifth.

  He had a trail of great deeds that extended for better than half a century, and while they were not always the cleanest, favoring practicality over the strictest definitions of honor, they were still momentous and frequently even Heroic.

  Almost overshadowed by his massive presence were at least 40 additional men in this chamber. No few were advisors or guards. But at least 20 wore the coat of arms of a noble. Some were the usual nobles of The Forest, he even recognized 2 from his trip north, having traveled considerably faster than the Band with their smaller parties. But over half of them had an extra feature to their crests. One he’d not seen before.

  He nudged Ermina as they began to walk down the carpet, his head tilting slightly towards one of these nobles. A tall blonde with a quartered quill and castle, and peculiarly, outlined in red.

  “Honorary Nobles.” She offered with a bit of distain. “Courtiers with no lands or heredity. su-Barons.”

  That… well, he mused. He’d heard about it. Sometimes the needs of the court and the bureaucracy required noble authority without strictly noble lands or armies. A step up from loaning one's voice to a commoner, and without many of the reciprocal responsibilities. They spoke for themselves as lesser members of the court and bore the weight of their own mistakes. Mostly.

  It seemed a bit hollow to Ethan, no future beyond oneself and no past that led you to it. But it was a known line of advancement and there were few enough of those around that he shouldn’t turn his nose up at it.

  He mentally shrugged. It wasn’t important now. They made the steps before the count's throne and stooped. Ethan and the trailing Guile saluted, hand slammed against chest armor, while Ermina delicately touched her chest then extended the hand outward in a sweeping fluid gesture.

  He gave them a once-over. Visibly taking Ethan, then Guiles measures. Stopping for an extra second on Guile, with an eyebrow raised before continuing on. He took his time with it, but it still wasn’t much of a wait.

  “Be welcome Baronet Ethan, to my hearth and hall. For a week and a day my hospitality and protection are yours. I hope to speak with you extensively on subjects of mutual interest before the day is out. I’d prefer sooner but alas-” He gestured to the court around and in particular to an older man with an arm full of scrolls. “-it is court day, and the duties that come with it will not wait.”

  “Still, you should stay and watch. It might give you a new view of how the county you are about to become a part of is joined together.”

  Ethan bowed his head, deference without agreement. That remained to be seen. Still, he stepped to the side, Ermina delicately trailing with a hand touching his arm. It was too light to be called resting.

  They walked over and up the steps to a bench set halfway between the pillars and the wall behind. Enough room for pages and messengers to pass behind, no doubt.

  The count nodded to his seneschal, who quickly stepped forward, striking his staff on the floor again. “A joint petition from Baron’s Aldric of Thornmarch, Siegbert of Barenfels, Friedrich of Lendenhof, Ulrich of Eisenbach and Lothar of Heilkraut.” The names and locations came from the older man's throat in one continuous blast of sound. Given dignity and easily projected throughout the room.

  He'd make a fine officer if he could speak like that!

  The five men walked down the steps together and approached the Count. Striking fists to chests and waiting to be addressed.

  “Barons. Your petition?”

  “My Lord, the five of us closed a small rift near Greystone Ford. A Tier 2 small rift and the final boss was of the champion archetype.”

  There was a flurry of hushed whispers and no little awe in noise that filled the room. Ethan not excepted. That was a right impressive piece of work! And no mistake.

  “At tier 2? Impressive. In fact-“ He gestured to the side where a servant quickly ran forward with a platter of wine glasses. “I raise a glass to you!” Another servant nudged Ethan's elbow gently, offering a similar platter.

  He picked up two chalices from it, handing one to Ermina before raising it high and waiting for the rest of the room to do the same. It took remarkably little time.

  “Honor!” The count called.

  “Honor!” The room echoed before tipping the chalices back and draining the wine inside. Merely a quarter filled as proprietary dictated, but it still had to be drained in one go.

  “How long did it take you, Lords?”

  “It was open for eight days, My Liege. The final boss was… difficult.”

  “And Kiron’s take?”

  “Over 150 soldiers and one hamlet, Sire. Including Baron Siegbert’s eldest son.”

  “Haaa.” The count let out a breath. “A heavy price indeed. My condolences to you Baron Siegbert may Kiron’s scales balance in his favor. And your request?”

  “A delay on taxes. We’re short-handed for the harvests between the lost and wounded and the nearby militias were decimated by a few stealthy leakers.”

  “Will a year do?”

  “Yes, My Lord.” He answered with relief in his voice.

  “A grant you a delay, Lords. Not forgiveness. At next year's harvest, you will owe both years, yes?”

  “We will not fail My Lord Count.”

  “Good! And I will ask Magister Cassius to make a tour of your fiefs in the meantime.”

  The men perked up at that and Ethan tried to hide a smile. A Magister on hand was indeed a hell of an advantage.

  The men saluted again before walking back to the bench.

  “Next.” The count directed.

  The stave struck the ground again. “Barons Gunther of Knochengrund and Clovis of Schwammhugel.”

  The count straightened on his throne as the two men approached from different directions, rigidly not looking at one another. Anger shown in every line of their frames.

  “I know this one!” the count announced, not letting either of them speak. “A minor rift opened in the unclaimed grounds between your fiefs. Baron Gunther, you claim it was closer to Baron Clovis and thus his responsibility to close. And while you were sending missives back and forth, arguing over responsibility, this mere tier 0 rift led to a burnt-out hamlet.”

  Both men started to speak, their faces paling slightly, but the Count wouldn’t have it. Raising a hand in negation, he stared them both down.

  “I don’t really care on what side of some imaginary line it opened. You knew it was there. Baron Gunther! You knew!” He spat. “And you let your village burn anyway. It is a noble’s obligation to protect their own. I am not amused.”

  A slight smile began to grow on Baron Clovis’s face. But not for long.

  “And you, Baron Clovis. I believe I heard a similar case not 2 years back, did I not. Another rift that might have been your responsibility that you tried to fob off on others? The next rift on your borders, you had damn well better close it immediately, else I’ll find someone else who will.” And that neither he nor his line would survive such a change went unsaid.

  “Now get out of my sight. Both of you.” The men left at just short of a jog, nearly flinching from the gazes of their neighbors who looked on with unhidden disgust.

  “Wine, to wash that taste out.”

  The servant made his presence known again, quietly filling Ethan’s chalice as the entire court took a moment to drink. To drink and to gossip from what he could here. And glancing sideways at Ermina’s glowing eyes, and knowing her skills, she heard a great deal more than he did.

  Still, soon enough it settled back down and the Count gestured to the seneschal.

  Crack! “Master Hedrik of the Potters Guild brings a suit against Baron Wilhelm of Buchenhorst.”

  “Master Hedrik. I trust you are not here to waste my time. Suits against nobles rarely end well.”

  “Yes My Lord Count. I am aware of your preferences and will keep it brief. A shipment of Amphorae from the factory just north of Auenland was being transported south to Eschenhain under contract to Baron Childeric. It was requisitioned mid-way and I am left to explain why I did not meet my contract. I beg of the Count to intervene.”

  “Baron Wilhelm?”

  “My Lord, it is not so simple. A rift opened on the road and traffic was blocked while we closed it. The rift turned out to have harvestable fruits. Cloud Peaches.” There was some excited murmuring at that. He glanced sideways as the slight flicker of Ermina’s privacy skill shifted the air before him.

  “They are supposed to increase the rate your body stat goes up. From the same amount of exercise. They never grow outside a rift and no matter how long you wait, they don’t regrow inside of one either.”

  Huh. Not necessary when hard work could accomplish the same thing. But convenient. Especially for those as had the time and money to enjoy the finer things in life.

  The privacy barrier went down, leaving him slightly behind the conversation.

  “-requisition goods from merchants that aren’t yours, Baron?”

  “Of course not, My Lord. I am not a bandit, I will pay for them.”

  “When?”

  “Ah-“ the man hesitated, shocked to be asked such a question openly. It wasn’t done... by subordinates. The count was not that. “When I’ve sold the Peaches?”

  The count laughed at him. Openly so. “And will you also pay the fees for an unfilled contract? Let me give you a bit of instruction that apparently you ignored. When merchants lose money, they stop doing business in that territory. When they do less business, I get less taxes.” The laughter was no longer in his voice as he proceeded. In fact, he was nearly growling. “I do not like getting less taxes. Do you understand me, Baron Wilhelm?”

  “Yes My Lord. I will make it right. Immediately.”

  “Good. And don’t let there be a second time.”

  “Next.”

  ___