We were walking past stalls in one of the open market areas of the city. I had convinced the girls to get out of the carriage at the mouth of the main street leading to the market area. There was technically enough room on the roads for our carriage to pass through, but I was craving street food. I didn’t realize how much I missed walking through the markets of Doranna, even if it was just to eat something different than whatever the Adventurer’s Guild’s tavern was serving that day.
This was the first time I could really take in the city. I had largely been inside the carriage all day today, and the only other time I left Ippolita’s estate was that first night to race to the crash site. The streets were similar to the cobblestone roads of Doranna, but the stones were identical in shape and size. That probably contributed to how smooth the carriage ride was, though I suspect mana had more to do with it than anything else. The mana and manastone based technology was definitely more advanced here in Fortenna than in my city. My old city.
There were manastone lamp posts lining the streets; Doranna had those, too, but not in this number and not down all of the side alleys. The buildings themselves seemed to be a mix of timber framed buildings with waddle and daub to fill in the gaps and robust stone structures with varying degrees of detail and ornamentation. The fountain in the center of the square we were walking towards was one such example of ornate detail in bas reliefs for the framing of the fountain.
I would never call myself gregarious or a socialite, but I did enjoy being a part of a crowd. Things felt simpler when you were just a face among the crowd, and I needed simple right then. The past 12 days had been intense in a way that left me desperately needing simple. Though, the presence of the girls and all of the stares made simple impossible. I exhaled explosively as we made our way to the fountain in the center of the square.
“What is wrong, cucciolo?” asked Orsa.
“Everyone is staring at us. I was hoping to blend in and just be a part of the crowd, but I guess having guards makes that impossible.”
“We are not the reason they are staring, Jack,” Fiametta said quietly.
“Really? Do her majesty’s guards escort many people through the markets?” I asked, unable to keep all of the snark out of words.
“She means they’re staring because you’re a man and because of the rumors,” said Chiara.
“There are rumors? Oh, they’re about Doranna crashing a stone’s throw from the walls, aren’t they?” I asked.
Chiara made a noncommittal noise. I furrowed my brow at her reaction.
“What? It’s not that?” I pressed.
“That’s part of it, but you also made a bit of an entrance when you came flying through our end of the Godsway,” said Chiara after a beat.
“Ah, yeah, I did destroy a woman’s cart,” I said, a mix of memory and realization hitting me at the same time. “Do I—is she okay? Do I need to compensate her for anything?”
Orsa chuckled, then said, “Don’t worry, her majesty took care of it.” She punctuated the end of her statement by patting my head. I resisted the urge to swat her hand away, recognizing her teasing affection for what it was: A distraction. There was no point in dwelling on the chaos of my arrival; it was just one more thing that Ippolita had done for me. However, it was a reminder of everything I’d lost.
I should ask them if we could visit the godsway so I can pay respects.
As I opened my mouth to speak, I caught a whiff of something delicious. And familiar. I stopped walking, bringing the group to a halt, and actively sniffed the air while looking around. I zeroed in on a stall a few stalls further ahead. There were a couple of stacks of flatbread on the counter, and behind the counter was a spit full of various meats over a cookfire. I wasn’t familiar with the style of food, but it smelled similar to some of the more savory pies I’d had before.
I pointed to the stall. “Can we get food there?” I asked the girls.
“Oh, wraps are a good choice,” said Orsa. We moved in the direction of the stall I pointed to.
“Wraps? Wrap what?” I asked.
Chiara chuckled lightly while Orsa said, “It’s meat and vegetables laid on top of unleavened, or flat, bread, then rolled up so you can hold it with one hand.” She pantomimed folding and rolling something as she explained it. I tilted my head slightly then shrugged. It sounded good enough.
Fiametta stepped up to the counter while Orsa and Chiara continued standing at my sides. Their presence was enough to split the crowds; though once we stopped in front of the stall, I could pick up the whispers. There were guesses at my identity, how I survived, if my arrival meant other Godsways would start working again, and a singular person doomsaying that I was some harbinger of bad things to come. Mostly though, the whispers were things that made my ears red and heated my cheeks. Even with the abundance of flirting at the palace, I still wasn’t accustomed to hearing guesses at my ability to get a woman pregnant or lascivious remarks about my body. Nothing was safe: not my hands, chest, legs, feet, ass, and definitely not my dick.
I tried to maintain a blank expression while the sounds washed over, but I was getting more and more restless. I glanced at Orsa and Chiara in turn; they were both scanning the crowds, making sure there were no threats and that everyone kept a respectful distance. From what I understood, though, this was largely performative. Ippolita could be here instantly if she detected something happening.
If she’s watching, anyways.
Fiametta turned back towards us carrying several bundles that were tied in a thin woven cloth. When she got closer she jerked her head over to a pair of unoccupied tables by the fountain.
“Those tables over there are empty,” she said.
We all moved to where she indicated and sat down. She laid the cloth bundles on the table we were seated around, and grabbed one for herself. Seeing Orsa and Chiara grab one as well, I reached for one of my own. I untied the cloth, and as it came undone, the flatbread flopped open, no longer held together. Glancing at Fiametta, I watched her fold the edges of her bread, tucking one end under the other, and then bring it to her mouth to take a bite. She froze before biting as she noticed me staring at her.
“Is there something wrong, Jack?” she asked.
“Ah, no, sorry. I just didn’t know how to eat the ‘wrap’ exactly, and was watching to figure it out. I didn’t mean to stare.”
She chuckled and set her wrap back down. “You fold, or roll, the edges in like so, and then tuck one side under the other to make it easier to hold with one hand. Like this. See?” Her hands followed the directions of her mouth, and I got a second showing of how to properly eat a wrap. Seemed easy enough. I copied her movements: rolling, tucking, and then brought it to my mouth. I took a good sized bite, and the savory and smokey flavors exploded in my mouth. The vegetables were crisp, the meat well seasoned, and there was a garlicky paste tying everything together. I couldn’t stop a quiet moan of satisfaction from escaping me. This is why I loved street food in Doranna. That wasn’t to say the food in the palace was bad. It was amazing, too, but these flavors were far more intense—more importantly, eating street food was nostalgic. It offered a sense of normalcy that I had been missing for almost a fortnight.
I went to take another bite, and that was when I noticed the mess I made. A glob of garlic paste and some vegetables was lying on the wrap’s cloth on the table. I looked from the glob to the bottom end of my wrap, evidence of its crime lining the edge of the bread. I made a mental note to grip the wrap closer to the back and hold it a little tighter.
Or maybe I could fold up the back end of it?
“I hope you make that noise when eating something else, cucciolo,” came Orsa’s voice, snapping me out of thoughts. Heat colored my cheeks.
Chiara rolled her eyes, and Fiametta shot her a dark look before saying, “Is the wrap that much better than the food at the palace? I don’t believe you’ve ever been that enthused about your meal before.”
“Well, it’s not that the food at the palace is bad. In fact, it’s amazing. But this feels more… I don’t know, it feels more like home. The intensity of the seasoned meat is more what I’m used to eating. The food at the palace is much more balanced. Everything is just so, and correctly portioned. Again, that’s not bad! I’ve just never eaten food fit for a noble, let alone royalty. I’m rambling. And you’re all laughing at me.” I squinted at them as I noticed they were all fighting to keep smiles off their faces.
“Chiara! You, too?” I said, gripping my heart in a dramatic fashion.
“Sorry, Jack. It’s just funny. You say “fit for royalty”, but her majesty has been serving you more simple meals because she thought that would be more of what you were used to,” Chiara said.
“Oh, well, that’s partially true I guess. The stews have certainly been nostalgic. I guess, I meant more the experience in addition to the food.” I sighed and leaned back in my chair so I could stare at the overcast sky. “I miss the sun. I miss fading into the background of crowds. I missed streetfood,” I said, gesturing towards my wrap. “And I miss many, many more things that I don’t need to name because they’re obvious. But…” I trailed off taking a deep breath, then made eye contact with each of the girls, who had paused in their own meals at this point.
“I am lucky. I’m lucky it was this city. I’m lucky it was her majesty and not a different principessa, and I’m lucky it was you three assigned to me. So thank you, for guarding me, and indulging me in my need to be among normal people like this. Even if it is a risk.” The three of them were smiling at me, though Fiametta’s and Orsa’s smiles had something more to them.
Sooner or later, I’ll need to address it, but not today.
We continued eating, mostly in companionable silence, though there was a bit of conversation back and forth. After I finished, I stared off into the fountain for a few minutes before my thoughts circled back to the godsway.
“Is there a place where we could get flowers?” I asked, accidentally interrupting a conversation between Orsa and Chiara.
“There is. There should actually be a stand nearby with some. Why do you want flowers?” asked Fiametta.
“I want to place them by the Godsway. To pay my respects. There’s not really a gravesite I can go to.”
“Actually, Jack,” Fiametta said, which drew my eyes away from the fountain and to her. “Her majesty commissioned one. It isn’t finished, but it’s being constructed alongside the Godsway.”
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. That was surprising, certainly. I didn’t think something like this would get built. After all, what was Doranna to these people other than the cause of a nuisance outside their walls. I should have had a better opinion of Ippolita, but I still wasn’t accustomed to nice things being done for me without having to ask. I would have to thank her, somehow.
“Would you still like to go?” asked Fiametta.
“Yes, even more so now.”
As we all stood up, Chiara collected the wrapping cloths, and took them back to the stand, dropping them off in a bin marked for soiled cloths. When she came back over to us, they all assumed the same walking formation as before, and we went to the flower shop to buy an arrangement. None of them would let me pay for it. Fiametta cited that she’d been given permission to add anything I wanted to her majesty’s line of credit. I wasn’t super clear on what that meant, or how these lines of credit functioned. We had something similar in Doranna, but it was backed by the Adventurer’s Guild. This seemed different. I made a note as something to ask Ippolita in the future.
The square with the godsway was in the central square of the city. We were currently in a north eastern square of the city, which housed more artisanal crafters and vendors. Our trip back to where the carriage awaited us was much the same as the trip to the square, but there were more people out now. Not that it mattered much, as everyone kept a respectful distance from us. Our carriage waited for us exactly where we left it. The driver, having seen us coming, was double checking the horses to make sure everything was ready for our departure. The trip to center square took a little over an hour, and when we arrived I found out why.
The road square was closed off, which made sense now that I thought about it, but it also explained why it took so long. A lot of traffic, whether on foot, horse, or carriage, had to be redirected down smaller roads and thoroughfares. The carriage pulled up to the barricade, and the girls and I stepped out. They led me around the barricade and into the construction area. A few people glanced our way, but none approached until we got much closer to the monuments, or monuments-in-progress.
“Damas, we weren’t expecting an inspection today,” said a curvy woman wearing the soiled and dusty clothes and apron of someone who worked marble with their hands. She was a wolf therianthrope. I think. Black wolf ears sat atop a curly mane of black hair that she had somehow managed to pull back into a ponytail. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing her muscled forearms coated in a sheen of sweat.
“Apologies, Maestra Giovanna. Rather, this,” Fiametta gestured to me, “Is the sole survivor of The Fall of Doranna. He’s here to pay his respects.”
Maestra Giovanna looked me over appraisingly, then her expression dropped. She gripped her chest over her heart and swooned. “Oh my heart cries. It is a tragedy for a man to have to endure such loss, such pain. How heavy your heart must be to carry the burden of survival. Not even the bards could capture the heartache you must surely be breaking under. But you must endure! You must survive! Your people’s legacy lives on through you!”
By the time she finished, I was sure if I should clap or run away. I glanced at the girls for guidance. Orsa and Chiara were looking away, embarrassed for me, and Fiametta was clearing her throat.
“Yes, thank you for your concern. Her majesty is doing her utmost to ensure Signor Wright prospers. May we approach the Godsway? Or is it blocked by anything?”
“Oh, yes, yes, please. The statues by the actual frame of the Godsway are finished. I am merely still working on the surrounding pieces.”
We stepped around her and towards the center of the worksite where the godsway was. When I saw the two statues in front of the mouth of the godsway, I couldn't stop the tears from flowing down my face. The statue in question was an impressive recreation of Stephanie and myself holding hands. The direction the statue faced was towards the crash site. I couldn’t hold myself back anymore and I quickly closed the remaining distance between the statue of Stephanie and myself. It took all of the willpower I had, but I just barely managed to stop myself from embracing it. I reached out and cupped the hard marble of Stephanie’s face. I traced small circles with my thumb along her cheek, my eyes absorbing every impressive and immaculate detail, and then I brought my forehead down to touch hers. The marble lacked her warmth. This wasn’t Stephanie, but it was close enough for this moment. For me to reaffirm my vow. I’d see this through to the end, to give her body peace, and to give the bodies of our friends, our fellow Dorannians, peace.
I stepped back once, and then pulled the flowers from my storage ring. I set them down underneath the clasped hands. I took a final look, wiped my eyes on my sleeve, and then turned back to face the girls. All three of them looked solemn. Orsa looked midstep towards me, with Chiara holding her arm. Fiametta remained stoic, but I could see the dried path of a tear having fallen down her face.
“I’m ready to go home now.”
Fiametta nodded once, then the four of us trekked back to the carriage. However, there were people waiting for us beside our carriage with another carriage further back. People I didn’t recognize. There were two guards in armor similar to Chiara’s, with rapiers at their hip. In front of them was a man and a woman, both around Fiametta’s height.
“Contessa, Conte, “Fiametta said, nodding to both of them, “What business do you have with our driver?”
“Oh relax, Dama Fiametta. We saw her majesty’s carriage by the barricade and hoped we could convince the inspector to let us to see the progress of this grand monument. We are curious how the city’s funds are being spent.”
I furrowed my brow slightly hearing her words.
“Her majesty is funding the monument from her own coffers. I’m quite certain that topic has already been covered during the court session in which her majesty announced her intentions,” said Fiametta.
“It must have slipped my mind,” said the Contessa with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Is that who I think it is behind you? The survivor of The Fall of Doranna?”
A strong sense of foreboding hit me like a bucket of ice water. Something about this woman set me on edge, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Yes, it is. He is her majesty’s special guest.”
At that the Contessa made an indignant snort. “You mean her prisoner. Why don’t you come say hi, signore? If you’d like, you can stay at my estate. I can guarantee you freedom to do whatever you’d like.”
I didn’t move, but Fiametta did take a half step to the side so that I had a better sight line to who was talking to me.
“No thank you,” I said. Something about this woman made it difficult to speak, or at least I didn’t trust myself to say too much around her.
“Is our hospitality not good enough for you, commoner?” sneered the man next to her, who I assumed to be her husband, the conte.
“No, Signore, but I don’t know you. I do know her majesty, and I am quite comfortable with my current arrangement.”
“Oh, so you’re happy to leech on the good graces of this city and her majesty then? Can’t be bothered to earn your own way?”
“Excuse me, Conte and Contessa, but it has been a long day, and I would like to return to the palace.”
“You haven’t been dismissed, commoner. You will leave when your betters say you can leave,” he growled.
“Leash your husband, Contessa, or be prepared to defend his honor,” Fiametta said, her voice low and even.
“How dare you! A mere dam—” his words were cut off by his wife slapping him hard enough across the face for him to stumble. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
“Take my husband to the carriage where he can cool off, and get him some refreshment. I’m afraid his hunger has made him forget himself,” said the Contessa to her guards. She turned and faced us. “My apologies damas, and to you most of all Signore. My husband and I haven’t fed yet today, and it seems the smell of a human brought out the worst in him. We’ve never seen one before, and frankly, it’s an intoxicating experience. We will take our leave now, lest we cause another misunderstanding.”
Fiametta didn’t say anything, merely nodded. The contessa seemed to know that was the best she was going to get so she turned and left, but not before making eye contact with me. There was a flash of primal hunger in her eyes, a dangerous one. It promised violence and consumption, which was very unlike the hungry looks the others had given me. Their carriage used the full breadth of the road to turn around, and after it turned down a side road, I finally let go of the breath I’d been holding.
I felt Orsa’s hand on the small of my back. Her hand moved in small slow circles as she said, “I know it may not have felt like, but you were safe. The three of us were enough to handle the four of them, plus her majesty is always watching you. She would have been here before things escalated too far.”
I looked up at her and nodded. I believed her, but it did nothing to ease the ominous feelings left over by the encounter. Something was off about the Contessa and the Conte, and I knew I’d have to deal with them at the ball in some capacity. With a sigh, and another nod, I gestured towards the carriage. “Let’s go home girls. I feel like I need a bath to wash off that encounter.”
“Is that an invitation, cucciolo?”
“What?!” I sputtered.