Northern Hills
Lansius and the three squires could hardly believe what they had just heard. Felicity had perfectly described Lord Arte’s features: light brown hair, a charming demeanor, a beautiful jawline, and a small scar on his left eyebrow. This could only mean that Felis had met Lord Arte.
“Where did you see him?” Hugo inquired cautiously.
Felis’s excitement grew. “I knew it! He’s not just some wandering minstrel. He has a different aura about him.”
“Was he alone?” Anci interjected impatiently.
“He was when I met him," Felis answered. "He introduced himself as Archie, perhaps a disguised name."
“And where and when did this happen?” Hugo inquired.
“Pozna, just yesterday,” Felis replied merrily.
The expressions on Thomas, Hugo, and Anci were a mixture of disbelief and relief. They had searched fruitlessly for weeks, even venturing to Feodosia in the slim hope that Lord Arte might have been captured and sold as a slave without being recognized. Now, it seemed that luck was on their side.
Still harboring some doubt, Thomas inquired, “Did you speak to this Archie?”
“Only by chance. We met at the stable while waiting for our carriages. He introduced himself and made a humorous remark when I asked him a question.”
“Humorous?” Thomas furrowed his brow.
“He said he was going to whore himself out to save his friend,” Felis said with a giggle.
Her answer left Hugo and Thomas dumbfounded. They now had more questions than answers.
At last, Lansius dared to ask, “Where is this Arte heading?”
“North,” Felis replied with certainty, then added, “I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I fear your friend intentionally headed there to meet with the slavers.”
“Slavers?” Lansius blurted out. “Aren’t they supposed to be in Feodosia?”
“Those are the Imperium-approved ones, Lans. There’s the illegal kind too, you know,” Felis explained, sounding as though she knew the matter well.
“Illegal slavers?” Lansius asked again, thinking he must have misheard.
Felis nodded unenthusiastically. “Unfortunately, there are people who trade slaves within the Imperium.”
Lansius immediately recalled the rumors he had heard on the road. There had indeed been several mentions of such practices.
Noticing the puzzled looks on the other men’s faces, Felis elaborated, “It’s an open secret that, despite the law, many powerful men keep slaves to work on their vast, secluded estates.”
Hugo and Thomas exchanged thoughtful glances. The news did not sit well with them. A group audacious enough to operate against the Imperium’s law would likely be powerful and have ties with the local strongmen. However, their loyalty demanded they attempt to rescue their lord.
Despite their silence, the squires were already considering how many men they could gather before storming the location. They were trained for violence; it was their primary instinct. The idea of trying to negotiate their lord’s release or attempting to purchase his freedom crossed their minds, but their lack of funds, as well as their pride and honor, prevented them from uttering such thoughts.
Quietly, Lansius observed them. He had a different plan. While Lord Arte was his master, he didn’t know him well on a personal level. Moreover, he had other priorities at the moment.
Anci broke the silence, declaring, “I’ll head north and scout around. There should be only one main road, so we can easily find each other. You can gather men and follow when you’re ready.”
Thomas agreed. “A few simple markings should be easy to spot.”
Hugo nodded. “All right then. Thomas and I will head west to gather our men. You and the clerk should go north.”
Lansius was taken aback by the decision and protested, “I beg your pardon? I must go to Feodosia.”
His response elicited stares from Hugo and Thomas, with only Anci remaining indifferent.
Lansius hurried to explain. “I can't fight. I am dead weight. You have my purse, so let’s part ways here. I need to find my friend in Feodosia before she’s sold to someone else.”
Thomas was the first to look away. He knew Stefi and sympathized with Lansius’s cause.
Meanwhile, Anci snorted, seemingly amused by the turn of events. “There’s no need for him to come along. I can handle it myself.”
Hugo exhaled sharply, understandably offended that a retainer would not put his master’s safety first. Even so, he chose not to press the matter and said, “Let’s return to the inn. We’ll depart at first light tomorrow.”
Before anyone could move, Felis spoke up. “Do you need fighters?”
The men looked at her in puzzlement, unsure whether she meant it or was making light of them.
“You’re not suggesting yourself or your brothers, are you?” Hugo asked carefully.
“Well, I’m part of the package,” Felis answered casually, then added, “I know capable fighters in Feodosia. Men-at-arms looking for contracts.”
It was welcome news to the three of them, who in their present situation could hardly afford to refuse any offer. Even so, Hugo remained doubtful. “I need brave, sturdy men, not boys or old men in armor.”
"Certainly. I’m talking about duelists, watchmen, and thief-takers,” replied Felis.
Only then, Hugo gave a nod and asked, “How many can you find and at what cost?”
Felis smiled brightly. “Well, I might be able to gather nine or ten if I can reach them all, but probably less if you need them quickly. As for the price, let’s discuss that later at the inn.” She paused and glanced at Lansius briefly. “We’ll need to borrow paper and ink, and then Lansius can handle the paperwork for us.”
“Why me?” Lansius was startled by the sudden mention of his name.
Felis gave Lansius a smug look. “I want this contract in writing, and I want a down payment as well.”
Uncertain, Hugo glanced at Thomas, who shrugged but seemed to have no objection.
“All right, we’ll do it your way,” Hugo conceded. With the matter settled, they made their way back to the Swan.
***
Despite their circumstances, the squires found solace in the feast before them. Their table was strewn with empty dishes and empty earthen jugs. Even Thomas and Hugo seemed to be enjoying themselves. The unspoken consensus among them was that they might die in a few days, so they ought to savor life while they could.
The squires knew little about their adversaries, but rumors circulated that the illegal slavers were influential and powerful, with enough sway to undermine the Imperium’s authority. Engaging them in battle would likely be suicidal, which perhaps explained the group’s merriness.
Beneath the soft glow of tallow candles, a wandering minstrel played his stringed instrument. The crowd requested a lively, humorous melody to lift their spirits. Meanwhile, the servers bustled about, providing more ale and food, their work clothes stained from a long day’s labor.
Thomas soon passed out, his head resting on the table. The old man seemed to carry a heavy guilt that he kept to himself, unwilling to share.
The atmosphere grew rowdier when five women entered the inn. Most of the guests became boisterous at the sight of them, with some making bold advances. Hugo was among those flirting, focusing his attention on a woman in a green and white gown, her full lips and long, wavy hair capturing his interest.
Lansius, however, felt hollow and removed from it all. Guilt kept him from taking any pleasure in the festivity, even with the beautiful blonde, Felis, seated beside him.
It did not help that until the night before, his evenings had usually been quiet affairs, filled mostly with wariness over who might be sharing the communal sleeping space.
Noticing his troubled gaze, Felis commented on the newcomers. “Pozna wenches. They’re shy compared to the ones from Feodosia.”
Lansius nodded out of politeness.
Curious at his tepid reaction, Felis leaned in closer. “Don’t you want to join in? I could help you pick a good one.”
Lansius knew she was serious and declined. “Maybe next time.”
Felis snorted and took a sip of her ale. Then she turned to Anci, who sat at the next table, and raised her voice to be heard over the clamor and music. The broad-shouldered man did not hear her, forcing Felis to tap his back gently.
Anci craned his neck and gave her a questioning look.
“Let’s head outside. I need to talk to you about something,” Felis said.
Still enjoying the festivity, Anci furrowed his brow. “About what?”
“About things that’ll involve you too,” she replied cryptically.
After a brief pause, Anci rose to his feet. As he did, Felis motioned for Lansius to follow. The three stepped outside and stopped not far from the entrance, where two large lanterns cast a warm glow. Another swayed gently by the wooden fence along the road, and with the door behind them, the music gave way to the chirping of crickets.
“What do you want to talk about?” Anci asked, guarded, while Lansius remained quiet.
“Well, I want you to talk some sense into your friend here,” she began.
The two men were intrigued.
“What do you mean?” Lansius asked.
“Well, you’re looking for your friend, right? A female fighter,” asked Felis.
“A female squire, yes. Why?”
“Lans, I doubt she’ll make it to Feodosia,” Felis said bluntly.
Lansius was alarmed.
She continued, “I’ve never seen female fighters being sold in Feodosia. They’re in high demand as harem guards in the Eastern Kingdoms, or as bodyguards for the wealthy.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Lansius quickly pointed out. “If they’re in high demand, there should be plenty of them in Feodosia.”
“No, listen,” she insisted. “Female fighters are in demand, but I never see them in Feodosia. From what I’ve heard, someone always buys them first, and it’s not traders from Feodosia.”
Lansius and Anci exchanged glances.
“Who is this someone?” Anci asked.
“It would be a lie if I said I knew for certain, but it’s most likely the same group you’re going up against. Between here and Arvena, I doubt there are two slaver groups operating so close together.”
Lansius could not help but grow suspicious of Felis. Drawing a deep breath, he asked sharply, “You want me to go north?”
Felis nodded. “You might not trust me, but that’s my suggestion. You’ll have a better chance of finding her there than in Feodosia.”
Lansius hesitated before a large, rough hand patted his shoulder.
“The way I see it, if your friend’s not there, then she’ll be in Feodosia. However, if she’s there, then you won’t find her in Feodosia,” Anci said, flashing his predatory grin. “Looks like you’re coming with me, clerk.”
Ignoring him for the moment, Lansius turned to Felis and asked, urgency plain in his voice, “Are you absolutely certain?”
“Without a doubt,” she responded with conviction. “I may not look the part, but I’m well-acquainted.”
Lansius sighed in resignation, but then another thought came to him. “Don’t you need someone to accompany you to Feodosia? Hugo just gave you a down payment, remember?”
Unfazed by the extra silver in her purse, Felis gave a faint smile. “I’ll persuade Thomas to accompany me. He shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, I could easily disappear with all your coins if no one keeps an eye on me,” she teased.
Her voice took on a serious note as she noticed Lansius's reaction. "Even if you go to Feodosia with me, you'll need a proper introduction and then wait for days before receiving a formal invitation from the slavers. It’s not as if you can just have a look around . . . So, what will you do? Will you wait in Feodosia, risking missing her, or will you take a quick detour to ensure that doesn’t happen?"
Anci stifled a laugh, while Lansius gazed wearily at the night sky, uncertain what his decision might lead to. His mind was still struggling to take in everything that had happened in a single day. There had been so many chance meetings and lucky coincidences that astounded him.
It’s as if someone, or something, is pulling the strings . . .
...
The following morning, as the first light of dawn began to spread, the Arvenians, one Midlandian lady, and a foreigner gathered downstairs. As agreed the night before, Thomas would accompany Felis to Feodosia, and so they parted ways at the inn without much ceremony.
As Thomas’s horse-drawn cart rolled east, Hugo, Anci, and Lansius made for the western road toward Pozna. Once there, they headed straight for the stable. Hugo wasted little time and paid a deposit to rent a horse.
After leading it just beyond the stable yard and testing its gait, Hugo turned back to them. “Take are. I’ll meet you in two days.”
“You know my patience. Don’t take too long,” Anci said, and no one could tell whether he meant it in jest or not.
Even so, Hugo laughed heartily. Though his eyes were still reddened from the previous night, the young squire carried himself with easy confidence.
That seemed enough for Anci. He stepped forward, gave the horse a firm pat on the neck, and motioned for Hugo to be off.
Without another word, Hugo turned the horse west and set out at a brisk pace, riding to gather fellow Arvenians and rescue their young lord.
After Hugo’s departure, Lansius followed Anci on foot. They headed north.
And so their plan was set in motion.
***
Midlandia - Rhomelia Border
The hill range separating the two provinces was teeming with birds flying freely. Despite being in the middle of summer, the land remained lush and green, dotted with ponds and marshes in the lowlands.
Lansius and Anci had traveled on foot for a whole day to reach this hill, where they spotted a suspicious manor surrounded by a palisade wall on the adjacent hill. They spent the remaining daylight constructing a crude tent. Neither was skilled in craftsmanship, so the shelter was poorly built.
After a fireless supper, Anci took the first watch in complete darkness. Nothing happened during his watch, so he woke Lansius, and they took turns watching like this until dawn. The night was cold and quiet. Too quiet for Lansius’s taste.
At dawn, as the wind blew, and the fog dissipated, Lansius could see the walled manor house perched on the hill, surrounded by farms and cottages. Even at a glance, he could tell that it was fortified. Aside from the palisade wall, it had guards and even an outer gate.
With spare time on his hands and to fight off the cold, Lansius drew a map on the ground using sticks and pebbles, laying out the manor’s defenses.
'It looks like a mini fortress . . . walls on each side, fences, patrols, and checkpoints.'
Attacking such a place would be suicidal.
And knowing the Arvenians, they would try anyway.
⠀
***