Fyrndahl, Lumithar 22, 528 EK

  A morning mist still hung over Brightwater, softening every edge of the buildings and turning the simple houses along the road into pale, wrapped silhouettes. The air felt cold, heavy with dew not yet burned off, giving the impression that the world moved slowly here—like the fog holding time in place. In Darius’s castle yard, a row of horses stood ready—six, seven—warming their flanks in the quiet hush of dawn. Kaelus’s guards, dressed and equipped with disciplined neatness, moved about preparing for the long ride ahead.

  Metal and leather whispered against one another—the small sounds that meant the little company would soon be on the road. Tents and saddles were readied; the horses stamped, impatient to continue. Thalion had just finished pulling on his thick cloak when Kaelus approached and tapped his shoulder—light, but enough to draw attention.

  “Wake up. We leave now,” Kaelus said, his tone firm, leaving no room for delay.

  Though his eyes still felt heavy, Thalion rose. Brightwater had begun to feel familiar in the few days he had been there, and yet it already felt foreign—too soon to leave, too long to truly call home. He stared a moment at the castle dissolving into the mist, as if saying goodbye in his head.

  Outside the gate Eveline waited, poised beside Darius and Aemond. Kaelus’s guards gave a brief salute to Lady Eveline, then resumed their positions, ready to follow orders without fuss. Eveline looked at Kaelus with a sharp gaze, as if reading something in his sudden early departure.

  “Do you really have to leave this morning?” she asked, disappointment threaded through the words though she kept it controlled.

  Kaelus nodded, his face calm as ever. “Yes. The town cannot be left long. There is much to attend to.”

  He did not mention Valterion, the reports piling on his desk, or the growing threats shadowing them. That was not the burden he would lay on Eveline or the children; they had already given enough.

  Kaelus then glanced at Thalion, giving a silent sign. “Come. Offer your thanks.”

  Thalion stepped forward with a nervous haste and bowed awkwardly, one hand to his chest.

  “Thank you… for everything, Lady Eveline. Lord Darius,” he said, voice soft but sincere.

  Darius inclined his head, crossing his hand over his chest, his look weighing the boy with respectful appraisal. “Train hard. Don’t disappoint him,” he said, sternness edging that final word.

  Thalion smiled, awkward but pleased. He turned to Aemond standing nearby. “It’s been an honor to meet you, Aemond.”

  Aemond laughed lightly, eyes bright with a warm smile. “You’re funny. I hope we meet again,” he replied as if they had known each other far longer than a moment.

  At almost the same instant Kaelus, by reflex, rapped Thalion on the nape of the neck—just enough to startle him.

  “‘Lord Aemond,’” Kaelus intoned, low and firm, as if there were no room for sloppiness.

  Thalion hurried to correct himself. “Sorry! Pleased to meet you, Lord Aemond,” he said more formally, cheeks flushing.

  Aemond chuckled again, gentler this time. “No matter, Thalion. You’ve plenty of time to learn.”

  Behind them a few of Kaelus’s men stifled smiles; it was well known Kaelus was stern and indifferent to small social slips, yet here he was—half mentor, half drillmaster in an unusual, almost tender mode.

  Kaelus mounted, followed in order by his men. Thalion was helped onto his horse last, steady hands guiding him.

  Before they set off, Eveline reached out and covered Thalion’s shoulders with both hands, looking at him as if imprinting something crucial. “You’re safe with him. Go. Learn. One day… return with your head held high.”

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  There was something in Eveline’s look like sending a child into a larger, darker world than Brightwater. It felt like a journey that would take more than his body; it would carry his soul.

  Thalion swallowed the cold morning air and met her gaze with a gratitude words could not hold. “Thank you, Lady Eveline.”

  Kaelus’s party fell into formation—he up front, guards to either side, three behind, and Thalion just to Kaelus’s right where he could be watched easily. The horses moved off with steady steps, threading the fogged road and leaving the waking castle behind.

  As they reached the town gate, Thalion glanced back and saw Aemond wave, his smile bright. Eveline and he shared a brief nod; Darius offered a quick salute with worry in his eyes.

  Kaelus leaned close and spoke in a low tone, almost a whisper but clear. “Don’t grow too attached to short places. You will return one day… for other reasons.”

  The horses quickened; Brightwater sank into thickening mist, the tracks of the little company becoming a memory that would linger for those left behind. A new world waited ahead—bigger, more demanding than Thalion had imagined. For now he could only keep pace, following Kaelus’s tireless stride.

  “Sir, do we take the fast route or the safe route?” a rider asked, shifting forward as the horses kept pace.

  Kaelus did not answer at once. He stared straight down the stony road leading east—hard, direct, the kingdom’s military line.

  “Fast,” he said finally. “We stop only to change mounts. I must get back to Kaelithar as soon as possible.”

  “Aye!”

  The formation tightened and sped up. Morning air split around them; hoofbeats struck the hard earth like a metallic pulse. The professional riders leaned in with the rhythm of their mounts.

  Thalion—only recently learning to ride properly—struggled to match the tempo. His breath came in ragged pulls, hands trembling, but he held on. Each guard post they passed blinked in puzzlement before immediately offering fresh mounts for Kaelus and his men.

  Kaelus glanced sideways several times to ensure the boy still rode with them. Each sight of Thalion hanging on made his eyes narrow—not with anger, but with calculation.

  Others in his retinue took note. “He’s still keeping up,” one whispered. “And he hasn’t fallen,” another added, impressed.

  By evening’s orange light the company reached a major Aurelion guard post—the midpoint between Brightwater and Kaelithar. The heavy wooden gate eased open at the sight of Kaelus’s cloak and the kingdom’s emblem on his saddle.

  “Gate open! Aurelion party!”

  The post sprang into motion. Men ran to fetch spare horses, others snapped to attention.

  “Welcome back, Lord Kaelus!” they called.

  Kaelus dismounted with brisk movement. “Long ride,” he replied simply.

  Thalion slid down more slowly; his knees nearly gave out. A young guard noticed and hurried over.

  “Sir, the boy—”

  “Take him to the Lantern Rest,” Kaelus interrupted. “Let him sleep. That will do for today.”

  “Aye, Sir!”

  Thalion only half-aware, was led toward a small building lit by rows of glass lanterns—the Lantern Rest—a modest tavern for riders needing a bed.

  Kaelus and the others went on to a larger stone house in the fort’s center. A huge fire burned before it; the clink of tankards marked its purpose.

  The Ironwell Hall. The soldiers’ common room.

  Inside, the smell of burning wood and warm drink welcomed them. The guards rose to salute briefly, then resumed sitting.

  Kaelus took a long bench, accepted a cup quickly filled.

  “How’s the watch?” he asked, voice steady.

  “All secure, Sir,” the head of the post answered. “Only some small Shredder rats to the north. Small sizes. No real danger.”

  Kaelus nodded. “If they remain small, leave them. If not… that becomes a matter.”

  Laughter rippled among the guards.

  One ventured, “You came from Brightwater, Sir? We didn’t see you pass this post when you left a few days back.”

  Kaelus swallowed before answering. “I escorted Lady Eveline then. The safe road suited her.”

  “Ah…” the man understood. “Makes sense. The safe route avoids the mid posts.”

  Kaelus set down his cup. “Now there’s nothing to guard. No noble retinue. Fast routes are more efficient.”

  A guard glanced toward the Lantern Rest where Thalion had been taken. “All your riders today ride like soldiers, Sir,” he said in a lowered tone, a hint of admiration. “Even… the boy.”

  Kaelus snorted—a sound half amusement, half impatience. “He didn’t fall. That’s enough.”

  More respectful laughter followed.

  Conversation turned serious. “Sir,” another guard asked quietly, “is it true King Kaelric Valterion has closed the trade route again?”

  The room grew suddenly quieter.

  Kaelus took a measured breath, his posture tightening. “True. But King Roland is seeking openings to negotiate. Valterion’s decision is not small. I must return to Kaelithar as soon as I can.”

  The men nodded, faces darkening; this was no trivial matter.

  Kaelus rose, his cloak whispering. “Enough. We ride on before dawn. Let my men rest.”

  “Aye, Sir!”

  As he left the Hall Kaelus cast a glance toward the Lantern Rest; the lantern light painted soft reflections on its windows.

  He paused briefly. “Sleep, Thalion. Tomorrow will be no easier.”

  Then he walked toward his own billet to take what rest time he could.

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  But simply reading and enjoying this tale is more than enough—I am already deeply grateful.