The road north out of Rivervald was much like the southern road into it. A wide, solid stone construct that traced the side of the river, but towered a good 10 feet above it. Mostly road, but half dike during flood season. If a dike frequently broken with arched bridges over irrigation canals, tributary creeks and smaller rivers.

  It offered a picturesque view over the vibrant, fertile lands. A view Ethan noticed Ermina staring at, with a complicated look in her overbright eyes. Nostalgia, melancholy and elation in a mix of ever-changing proportions.

  “A copper for your thoughts, My Lady?” He finally offered, after allowing the quiet to linger for most of an hour.

  She bounced lightly in the saddle, but controlled her horse with an instinctive and sure hand before it could likewise shy. “I’m not sure they are worth even that much, My Lord.”

  “Then I am happy to overpay, though somehow I doubt your valuation.”

  She smiled briefly, but it quickly bled away as she turned back to look over the verdant fields. “When does love become resentment, and exile freedom?” She mused at last.

  “A trifle harsh on yourself, My Lady. If you felt resentment, I’ve seen no sign of it. Nor has it driven you to bitterness. Taking or giving blame for feelings is foolish. It is only actions that should bear such scrutiny.”

  She barked a short, bitter laugh. “A fine point for philosophers, My Lord. Tell me, do your own feelings surrender in the face of such robust logic?”

  “Common sense is the enemy of such errant thoughts, and logic its weapons. See it well armed, and you will win the battle.” He paused, then with a shrug softened his tone. “Eventually.”

  She merely grimaced and returned her eyes to the fields and a hamlet as they passed. Eventually was not now.

  He tried again. “This is hardly an exile, My Lady. I can’t promise frequent trips, we have a mountain of work ahead of us, a shaky security situation and it is a long trip. But I can promise that you will return. It may take some time to arrange, but this will not be the last time you see these fields.”

  She glanced back at him, smiling slightly. “Ignore my ill temper for a time, My Lord. I appreciate your efforts, but they are wasted. I will get over it soon enough. Allow me time to wallow in my memories. Please.”

  She looked out with longing again. “I don’t have much longer to do so in any case. But when these fields fade from sight, I’ll put it behind me. My oath on it.”

  “As you wish.” They rode onward easily, stopping briefly for a meal or to switch out the pulling teams on the wagon. Accompanied by the tread of marching boots and the creak of harnesses.

  Till past midday, when the scenery started to change. The far distance began to rise up in a forested slope. Not a steep slope, but a noticeable one. The river began to narrow and began to pour past at a faster and much louder pace.

  He looked out for a time and finally nodded. It wasn’t really obvious from his deed cum map, but the north, even without getting to the mountains proper, was at a much higher elevation. Everything upriver was, of course, else it wouldn’t run down to the Capital and the sea beyond it. But the slope was already getting significantly steeper.

  The mostly flat land gave way to slopes and gentle rolling hills that did not so much dot the landscape as pile atop one another in a steadily ascending ladder. A ladder that less and less knew the plow and began to favor scrub brush and shorter trees.

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  Between the increasingly spotty fields and The Forest proper stood a last and familiar bastion. A border fort of a similar make to those found throughout the empire. Twin walled keeps surrounding the road and sitting astride the only bridge on a river tributary for at least 20 miles.

  No doubt there were a few usable fords, but it was cheaper to pay the road fees and cross a proper bridge than waste time and energy trying to find them.

  A success of a custom station.

  The landward side bore a banner in his father-in-law’s colors, quartered with wheat sheaf and a forester's axe that denoted a knight he hadn’t met.

  Two low wooden gates now stood between them and the next leg of the journey. Interruptions more than any kind of fortified bulwark. Enough to stop small beasts and traders from rushing through, but little more.

  Ethan glanced ahead, but merely received a wave from James. The fees were sorted, the road banners traded in. The column didn’t pause, but merely rolled through the gates and between the two wide-spread walls. To the right, a man in knightly plate stood tall, his men in even ranks beside him, and at a bellowed command, the fort's banner was raised and lowered in salute.

  Ethan turned to the side with a smile and an arm waved in invitation before letting his horse fall back slightly. “They are waiting for you, my Lady.”

  She looked up, a bit pale, but the melancholy at least had greatly faded. Her heels tapped against her palfrey’s sides and pushed it forward into a prancing, high-stepping show walk. With her back straight and her head held high she took the lead, waving gallantly to her former life and the people in it who had not forgotten her after all.

  Then they were through the fort and into the woods proper. The temperature becoming agreeably cooler in mere miles as shade and frequent moisture replaced beating sunlight.

  On the left, the river remained the river. Rushing faster and noisier still. But it’s roaring was a gentle lullaby to Ethan’s ears. A comforting touchstone and guarantee that he was not in fact lost in this trackless green. With every mile they passed, the old-growth giants grew ever taller, till they towered hundreds of feet overhead, mostly blocking out the sunlight.

  Only a diffuse light filtered through limb and leaf, and it did not speak to him of direction. Its dappled spots and a bit more reflected from the river were enough to see by, but not to see well.

  To make matters worse, ferns covered the ground between the widely spaced trunks. Massive affairs reaching chest high to his horse. He had barely ridden 5 minutes and he already hated them.

  They covered his in all directions but offered no real obstruction beyond sight. A regiment of foot could hide beside the road and he’d not see them coming. They slowed a bit, and doubled the scouts. And not just scouts, even tier 2 Lancers rode out in half-decades to support them.

  Every few miles, screams, animal and human, would explode through the muggy air as beasts and monsters protested the Band’s Invation. Beasts needed no excuse to breed as they did in this labrynthian sylvan glades and undergrowth. But the monsters were far worse. Just how many rifts were left over long to spawn so many?

  And yet, how could they not be. It was far too large, not to mention hidden for the surrounding nobles to truly clean out. They lost three scout horses on the first day, though no, Ethan was relieved to say, any tier 1 chargers.

  The Lancers battle mounts were as like to kick a forest lion’s head in as not. And while their were no few beasts capable of giving them a true fight, they weren’t small enough to do it quietly, and Lancers were not named that for no reason.

  At least forest lion was good eating! It wasn’t much when split between nearly 1650 people, but where one wasn’t, 50 or 60 a day provided a small but steady trickle to spread about.

  Nearly 17 centuries, Ethan mused, looking back over the 6-person wide column that snaked along the road for nearly half a mile. They had grown at every step of the journey. A small but steady string of camp followers, soldiers ‘wives,’ recruits, tradesmen and those who just needed a new start. Not to mention the specialists they’d headhunted or ‘borrowed’ from Baron Theodric.

  For good and bad. They’d have to keep an eye on the lot of them. Spies were inevitable, if somewhat unlikely now. Mostly because they just weren’t worth the effort for any classed individual. Though a few tradesmen willing to correspond a bit indiscreetly was certainly possible. Even likely.

  For others, a new start only worked if you were willing to do something different the second time. Despite what the stories said, it was possible for a leopard to change its spots. It was just damn hard. Still, he’d not deny them the chance. So long as they kept in good order and obeyed camp law, he’d not turn them away.

  It was a worry that carried him through a half day till they entrenched, looking up nervously at the unbroken canopy above.