Eyes on Arvena
Arvena
Sir Justin, the knight, rcenary, horse dealer, and occasional smuggler approached the mule cart with a guardsman at his side. He walked with a relaxed gait and a carefree, wandering tune on his lips, unfazed by the commotion. The troops straightened as he arrived.
He eyed the Eastern Kingdom trio before turning to the guardsman. "Assemble a counter party of thirty n, and make sure they keep an eye on the path leading here."
"Yes, Sir." The guardsman strode off purposefully to gather the ambush team.
Sir Justin alone approached the three n, who had dismounted and now were surrounded by a dozen guards. The soldiers kept their weapons ready, the tension thick in the air.
"Welco to our humble village. May I ask to whom I owe this visit?" Sir Justin as the host greeted with forced enthusiasm.
"We’re from the Eastern Kingdom and we’re here to help," an older man of the three replied. His accent was undoubtedly foreign.
"There must be so misunderstanding," Sir Justin said, prying. "Helping whom, and in what matter?"
Two of the three exchanged glances before the younger man stepped forward. "Helping the son of Lord Maurice of Arvena kill King Gottfried’s firstborn."
Sir Justin blinked at the blunt answer, half amused by its crudeness. There was no more pretense. "And why would you risk treason and spark a war between kingdoms?"
"Our employer believes a powerful King Gottfried would not be in their best interest."
"And who is your employer?" the knight asked not expecting an answer.
"The person asked not to be nad for obvious reasons."
"Yet you rrily stated along the way that you're from the Eastern Kingdom. Is there any truth to that?" he asked, his amusent masking suspicion.
The two n smirked. anwhile, the third man, judging by his muted reaction, was likely deaf or at least impaired.
Sir Justin nodded, understanding it was likely a ruse to bla the Eastern Kingdom. "Funny that you got the accent right."
"We are from the Eastern Kingdom. That much isn’t a lie," the older man said calmly.
"Still," Sir Justin shrugged. "You’re asking to trust strangers who arrive in the middle of a war, bringing nothing but bold words and vague promises. Even with fancy weapons, three n hardly tip the scales in a fight. I’d rather kill you now than risk exposing my secrets."
The youngest raised his hands in calm defiance. "Sir, we expected doubt," he said, his voice steady. "We carry state-of-the-art weapons from the Eastern Kingdom."
Sir Justin wasn't impressed, forcing the young man to gesture to the bundled items on the mule cart. "A weapon fit for a king. Let us prove their worth," he declared.
With a mocking grin, Sir Justin cast a glance at his n, doubt etched on their faces. Then, he turned back to the strangers, noting their raw confidence. "Gentlen, isn’t your confidence a bit misplaced? If it’s just weapons, we can kill you and use them ourselves."
"It took years to master, and I believe you’ll find our accuracy invaluable," the older man replied.
Their composure unsettled Sir Justin again. They reminded him of the Black Lord, whose calm deanor often preceded unthinkable plans or inventions. Since refusing would be foolish, he gave a curt nod. "Fine. But we’re not doing this here."
"Get them to a clearing behind us," Sir Justin added to his n.
"A mont," the older man said. "The weapon is powerful enough to kill horses. If you happen to have any ailing or wounded ones..." He left the rest unsaid.
"Yes, I happen to have one." Sir Justin instructed his n to bring forward the dying horse. They returned with a gaunt, wheezing beast, its ribs jutting through its coat. Injured in the last raid, it staggered, refusing to be guided.
The troops wasted no ti escorting the three strangers from the hideout to a clearing. Swords unsheathed and spears leveled, they watched closely as the n unloaded their wares for the demonstration.
Sir Justin’s eyes swept the area before tying the horse to a tree. Its rider gently patted the animal, whispering farewells. The beast struggled to sit, its labored breaths signaling the end was near.
"If you can’t do this quickly and cleanly, let know now. We’re not gentle with n who make animals suffer," Sir Justin warned.
"Rest assured, Sir, we’ll show you exactly what this weapon can do," the older man answered.
The trio moved swiftly. One unwrapped a long-barreled object, its engravings gleaming like bronze in the fading light. It looked alien compared to the swords and spears the guards carried.
"Was expecting a magic sword or a Dwarven weapon," Sir Justin comnted.
"You’ll find this no less fascinating, Sir," the old man replied as his younger companion began loading it. "They call it a bronze snake, or colubrīnus."
The deaf man, the strongest of the three, held the heavy bronze cylinder at an angle while the younger poured coarse gray powder into the barrel. A paper wad followed, tamped down with a ramrod, then a single smooth tal ball, carefully pushed in with what seed to be a circular motion before adding another wad to compact the charge.
"Is it always this slow to prepare?" Sir Justin asked.
"Only this one, for accuracy. We have faster ones," the older man replied.
Sir Justin nodded patiently.
"Ah, they’re ready," the old man reported rrily. "Can we move further back to demonstrate our accuracy?"
Sir Justin noticed his crossbown and riders frowning. One raised his voice, "This is a good forty steps away. You’ll have a hard ti hitting the poor creature’s head."
Another of his n added, "Do not play with us."
"Gentlen," the old man replied calmly, "we an no disrespect. But we need proper range for demonstration."
The knight studied the trio carefully but found no sign of deception or unease. "Fine. Take your distance." Then, to his n, he said, "At least the beast won’t see it coming."
They walked more than twice the previous distance before the young man set up a sturdy wooden pole with an iron fork at the top. The deft man, muscles straining under the weight, single-handedly carried the heavy bronze cylinder. With effort, he maneuvered it into place, resting it securely on the fork. A simple latch chanism secured it, allowing the stake to support the full weight and enabling it to swivel.
Once it was in place, the younger man adjusted his aim with ease. anwhile, the deft man struck flints to light a smoldering cord.
"In an ambush, you count the paces from place to place. It is necessary for accuracy," the old man remarked to Sir Justin, speaking like a rchant peddling his wares.
The knight noticed the young man peering through finely crafted sights, not unlike those Lord Lansius had on his crossbow, now standard among the SAR team.
"This weapon is based on the ocean vessel's fire weapons. We have known larger versions for centuries, but they were difficult, unreliable, and fell out of favor until we improved their reliability. This is the portable version."
Sir Justin stroked his chin. Despite being called portable, it looked as heavy as a barrel of ale and longer than a spear.
"We’re ready," the young man said calmly, his eyes fixed on the sight.
"Sir, warn your n. It will be loud."
"You heard him," Sir Justin said. Yet his n only closed their ears after seeing the old man cover his and the deaf man shield the young man’s.
So that's his function. Sir Justin thought as he observed the deaf man.
Without waiting for further permission, the young man touched the burning cord to the priming hole. At first, nothing happened. Then, the blast erupted.
The guards flinched, so stepping back as the ear-shattering roar filled the clearing. Smoke churned from the barrel like the breath of a mythical beast, so thick they had trouble seeing through it.
"Stay calm!" Justin barked, his voice cutting through the haze.
The old man gestured toward the horse. "Shall we?"
Justin motioned them forward. They walked in tense silence. The horse lay still, as if asleep, except for the bloody hole in the side of its head and the pool of blood beneath it.
"No quicker death than that," the younger man said proudly, and no one argued.
Sir Justin stood in silence, his eyes lingering on the carcass before shifting to the older man. "What did you say its na was?"
"Colubrīnus or coulevrine, but I simply call it culverin," the man replied with a big smile.
Sir Justin wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder and led him away, further from the crowd. "Say, regardless of Lord Arte’s acceptance or rejection of your service, may I interest you in another profitable endeavor?"
"You have my ears, Sir," the man said, though his nod ca slower this ti. His fingers brushed over his coat, as if considering his options.
"I know a lord, a powerful one, who might be interested in this kind of advanced fire weapon. I could introduce you to him, for a share of your profit."
The rchant shifted his weight. "That is... a generous offer," he replied quickly, masking his reluctance, knowing that his services were beyond the ans of re barons and viscounts. "It’s only good business."
The two chuckled, though one with more certainty than the other. The man from the East Kingdom aid to please and not to offend so he could fulfill his mission. anwhile, Justin was already considering whether it was wise or even possible to bring the trio all the way to Korelia, so far to the south.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
***
Canardia
Lansius, Audrey, and Valerie entered the spacious private hall on the second floor of Canardia Castle. Margo, Tia, and Francisca had a separate common room, leaving the three to enjoy a mont of respite.
"All that traveling makes my buttocks feel so tender," Valerie said as she sank onto the couch. Then, realizing it might sound ungrateful, she quickly added, "No offense, My Lady. The cart is mighty comfortable. It’s just that my constitution is always on the weak side after traveling."
"No worries, Val," Audrey said, signaling it was fine to be informal.
Outside, the crimson-gold light of the setting sun spilled through the windows. The two ladies had just strolled through the gardens for fresh air. Valerie had managed to walk a little, but her sweat-soaked brow and labored breaths showed her physique was still recovering.
anwhile, Lansius had just finished his daily tasks, weary from drafting policies and settling disputes. The civil war had lasted less than a year, yet the damage was severe. Interestingly, so of the reforms introduced by Reginald proved surprisingly effective and might have succeeded given more ti. As a result, Lansius instructed his scribes to compile a list of these reforms and postpone any imdiate changes.
He wished to form a band of intellectuals to evaluate the policies and determine whether they should continue or revert to the old rules. Unfortunately, the educated elite were still angry with him and declined to et. Lansius decided to give them ti to co to their senses. He knew better than to force their compliance, though he couldn’t help but imagine that a visit from Big Ben or one of his knights would make for a spectacular scene.
"How's the court?" Audrey asked as she sat next to him, facing Valerie.
"Endless," Lansius said with a sigh, settling into the newly cleaned, padded wooden chair. "There's so concern about our neighbor in Arvena. But fortunately, news travels slowly. We're hostile with Northern Midlandia, and they too aren't exactly ally to Gottfried. No trade routes, no rchants, and few travelers..."
He added, "Not to ntion, I doubt the North Midlandian nobles wish to admit they're losing their grip. That would be akin to sending an invitation for Gottfried to co." Then, with a softer tone, he continued, "Aside from that big worry, the usual stuff: troops need billets, new recruits for the garrisons, and training, which Sir Harold can handle. And then there's discussions about opening workshops in Canardia and Korelia."
Audrey smiled and began to look at him longingly.
Noticing them, Valerie said, "Maybe it's best if I excuse myself."
"No, no, stay," Audrey said. "It's just a stare." She giggled.
Lansius stifled a chuckle and gazed at Valerie. "How's recovery? Do you feel anything bad?"
"No, just still weak. No other symptoms to worry about."
The door opened to a slit, and Margo’s voice called softly, "My Lord, My Lady, the maids are bringing duck egg broth for Lady Valerie."
"Please, co in," Audrey said, motioning for the squire to enter. The maids followed with trays of duck egg broth, setting them down before quickly leaving and closing the door behind them.
"You like them?" Lansius asked guardedly.
"She’s been eating duck egg broth diligently, you know," Audrey teased.
Lansius shook his head in disbelief, surprised. "Do you even like the taste?"
"Well, as a dicine, it’s better than I expected. Just needs more salt," Valerie said, pouring a spoonful into her bowl. Her expression tightened, poorly concealing her disgust.
"That’s way too much," Lansius said softly, his tone tinged with sympathy.
"This much salt is normal for ," Valerie explained. "I've had worse when I worked as an explorer."
"So your solution to bad food is always more salt?" Lansius asked.
"Qu'est-ce que tu veux? Je suis Parisienne. J’ai l’habitude d’être choyée par de bons repas," she muttered casually, ntioning that she was Parisian and used to being pampered with good food.
Lansius didn’t understand the advanced French but figured her salt intake explained the short temper. anwhile, Audrey furrowed her brows and stared at her from the side.
Valerie felt it and, realizing her mistake, blurted out, "My Lady, Audrey, that's not a spell."
"I know. I can see if magic takes form," Audrey replied.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Valerie added, "Must be great to see magic. All I can do is sense it. That’s a great gift. Honestly, your eyes are so beautiful when they turn golden. I almost want to lick them."
"Odd complint, but I’ll take it." Audrey turned smug, clearly amused by the remark.
"It’s dangerous though," Lansius remarked, his tone serious.
"Yes, Sir Morton has warned us," Audrey said with a nod.
The mage knight had told them that Isolte likely trained Audrey as a fell beast hunter. Her stare was a form of magic that could activate energy within the target's body, causing it to lash out uncontrollably and create a burning sensation. It was effective at depriving fell beasts of their magic and harming them from within. The conditioning also made her an effective mage killer. There were still plenty of unanswered questions, but at least that much was certain.
"Lans, my apology for past accidents," Audrey suddenly added.
Lansius raised his brow. "What accidents?"
"I an, I stared at you often..."
"Oh, that," he recalled the jolt that felt like burning his eyes and rattling his brain. "It's been so long I forgot."
"No, it’s my fault. Even now, you have so little magic inside you. It’s probably because I stared at you too much. I’m really concerned."
"Is it really that bad?" Lansius grinned awkwardly.
Valerie giggled from the couch, savoring both the banter and the warm duck egg broth.
"I did it so many tis since Bellandia." Audrey sighed regretfully, and then her tone shifted. "How about I try to pull your source, like I did with Valerie?"
"No, that sounds dangerous," Lansius refused firmly.
"And it’s not like he has a source to begin with," Valerie added.
"To be born without one," Lansius lanted in jest. Then he gazed at Valerie. "Now that I think of it, how did you get your source?"
"Well..." Valerie hesitated, staring downward.
"You weren’t born with it?" Audrey asked.
"Not quite." Valerie’s eyes flickered toward them. "I had a ntor who was able to give it to ."
"Give?" Lansius was stunned.
Valerie nodded once. "That much I can reveal."
Audrey’s eyes wandered as she recalled, "I rember Ingrid said it’s possible, but the art has been lost. Your ntor must have been a great mage."
"You can say that. But he lives far away and in secret. We won’t find him in Midlandia."
"I see," Lansius said lightly without regret.
"Well, it’s not like you need one," Valerie said. "You’ve grown powerful and can recruit mages." Then turning to Audrey, "And this beautiful brunette is one of the most potent mages I’ve encountered."
Audrey turned smug once again. For so reason, she enjoyed praise, especially if it ca from Valerie, which made Lansius wonder if she had other motives at play.
"Also, magic is magic," Valerie continued, gazing at Lansius. "It’s inherently not ant for humans, like a poison. Even healing magic might cause cancerous mutations."
Lansius acknowledged with a nod while Audrey asked, "But the Saint Candidates do healing without any bad effects. I’ve seen two now, and they have plenty of magic inside them, not just at the source."
"Fortunately, we have a Saint Candidate joining us," Valerie explained. "Clentine's knowledge has been a great help, enlightening on various subjects."
Lansius nodded and poured water from a silver pitcher into three goblets.
Valerie continued, "Their thods and training make their bodies suitable for holding magic." She turned to Audrey. "All their training focuses on forming a vessel inside their bodies. It acts like a container, so the magic doesn’t harm them."
"I see," Audrey murmured.
"anwhile, yours is quite different," Valerie said, pausing thoughtfully as she gave Audrey a brief look.
"How so?" Lansius asked, concerned.
"If Saint Candidates have a vessel inside their bodies, and mages like have a source that can open or close like a window for fresh air, My Lady’s is akin to a deep well."
"A well?" Lansius asked, finding the comparison odd. He glanced at Audrey, who seed lost in thought.
Valerie continued, her eyes reflecting gratitude toward Audrey. "I know because when we’re connected, I can feel a bottomless pit. It’s impossible to sense a source or magic. It’s all hidden too deeply."
Like a battery? Lansius pondered.
anwhile, Audrey found it amusing. "Ingrid and Sir Morton actually said that’s what makes dangerous since mages would have a hard ti detecting that I'm a mage."
"It’s a great talent," Valerie said. "No wonder even I couldn’t sense it the first ti we t in Toruna."
Audrey exchanged glances with Lansius, who gave a subtle nod. Deep down, they felt grateful for this revelation. It reassured them that Valerie wasn’t hiding anything. From the looks of it, she had no deep ties to Bengrieve, and they could secure her away from him.
***
Lord Arte
It was nightti after a long day of discussion and debate about how to utilize the three Eastern Kingdoms’ n and their wonder weapons. After further demonstrations, there was no longer any notion of rejecting their help. They needed the weapon, as it was as accurate as it was powerful. Its precision and lethality surpassed even the windlass or heavy arbalest.
While cumberso and slow, it would be perfect for an ambush. Ideally, it needed to be set sowhere high, offering a good vantage point while remaining concealed. They had no such positions but would make do with the forest terrain. Their advantage was that the Crown Prince had yet to know about the weapon.
Though they had agreed to accept the help, lingering questions remained. Who had actually sent them? There were several candidates. The rcantile Kingdom’s nobles were a possibility, King Gottfried’s rivals within his court, or perhaps even the Second Prince, who had quarreled with the Crown Prince. Whoever it was, Arte would take the chance.
After locking the door and window of his chamber, with his squire and guard waiting outside, Arte slipped into bed. He took an earring from his inner breast pocket and wore it.
He heard nothing, and that was to be expected. He waited patiently, and just before sleep overtook him, he felt soone appear on the other end, and their souls collided.
"Love, is that you?" a familiar female voice echoed like a dream.
Who else? Arte asked tenderly.
"I missed you so." Felis’ feelings could be felt through the dwarven relic.
How are you in there?
"I’m fine, but how’s your end? Does Thomas still want to send a rescue team?"
No, just today I convinced him not to.
"Did he believe you?" Her concern flashed toward him.
Arte smirked. I’m always good at lying.
"Oh, you." Felis giggled, her warmth reaching him directly.
Have you eaten? How’s the food over there? He changed the topic.
"Bland but nutritious. At least the baby inside is well-fed."
I’m glad to hear it. Do they treat you harshly?
"No. I’m only the wife of a minor lord, so they leave alone, mostly."
Minor Lord, huh? Arte thought amused.
Felis chuckled. "The only hard thing is using the earrings without them knowing. But I found a way. When they’re chanting, their magic disturbs their own senses."
Sounds risky...
"Not really. These Sisters and Saint Candidates chant a lot," she reassured him, then added, "Say, did you know that Midlandia’s civil war is over?"
Huh? So quickly? That’s good, then. Who’s the victor? Can we get support? Arte’s excitent rose at the good news.
"Slowly, dear. But you’re going to love this."
Arte squinted. How co?
"The winner of the civil war is..." Felis paused, teasing.
Don’t tease . I’m already longing for your thighs and breasts.
Felis’ playful thought ca through the earring. "You should pick a concubine—or maybe a handso pageboy."
No. Nobody understands my needs better than you.
"Oh, you." Her warmth was unmistakable.
So who’s the victor?
"The victor is soone we know."
Soone we know? He echoed, thinking hard.
"His na is Lord Lansius of Korelia." Her tone carried a hint of infectious rrint.
There was a gasp, followed by a long silence. Arte couldn’t believe the news. I don’t believe you’re jesting. But... how?
"It’s a long story, love. I only heard parts of it from maids and servants, but you should know we have a strong ally on our side now."
Indeed. Are you able to send a ssage out?
"Soon. I should be able to convince soone to do it for ," Felis said confidently. "With him in power, I won’t need to hide in this monastery anymore, begging for reinforcents."
Yes. If it’s him, I wouldn’t fear the entire might of Gottfried’s northern n. Arte felt courageous all of a sudden.
Felis giggled on the other end. "It’s so good to hear your excitent after so long. Then you should wait for my word."
But love, we can't just ask. I know Lansius is a tender man, but we still need to bring the greatest gift to honor his victory. And I'm afraid I have none to spare. If only I could return ho to Alba Castle.
"No worries, love. I’m a resourceful wife," Felis praised herself. "And I have tactically acquired so gifts while I’m here."
Tactically acquired? Arte chuckled. Where did you learn such words?
She smiled. "Better than stealing. I don’t want our baby to hear badly about ."
Borrowed is a better word, love.
"Indeed. I’ve borrowed several items that I’m sure Lansius will appreciate. Oh, let show you one. I’ve been dying to try this one."
What is it? Arte asked, but suddenly the connection was lost.
Felis...?
There was no answer at first, only a strange sensation, like plunging into water. A subtle shift in fidelity followed.
"Can you hear ?" Felis asked from the other end.
I can, but what did you do? Arte’s curiosity mixed with concern.
"So, I found another earring. A different one. I’m not sure if it’s newer or older, but I think this will make a suitable gift."
Another dwarven earring...? What a remarkable find. Love, you really are fortunate.
Felis smirked on the other end. "The owner, a Sister, received it from a patron. She recognized it was magical and managed to maintain it, but didn’t know its purpose. She didn’t have the other pair, so I traded it for several pieces of gold."
That’s still a good trade for such a valuable relic. I’m glad I gave you gold for bribes. But then, if you give it to Lansius, who will he talk to?
"Are you jealous that Lansius might end up talking to ?" Felis teased.
Arte hesitated, his feelings slipping through the earring.
Felis giggled and added, "Jealous, are you?"
It’s a reasonable fear. He admitted boldly, without hesitation or pretense. By acquiring even part of Midlandia, Lansius is currently the most powerful lord and the wealthiest in this part of the Imperium. He’ll only beco more popular.
Felis giggled. "You shouldn’t worry. I wouldn’t dare to cross Audrey. She can be scary, and I doubt I’ll ever find soone who completes like you."
Arte felt her warmth and was reassured. Sohow, Felicity’s fortune had blessed her with the discovery of another powerful relic. Only ti would tell if Lord Lansius would see it as a priceless tool, worth many tis its weight in gold, or rely a treasure to be collected. Yet Arte couldn’t shake the fear that, in Lansius’ hands, this ancient relic might soon find its place on the battlefield.
***
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