KGWrites

Alyx

City Gates, Fallham, Barony of Fallham

“This is a bad idea.” James complained as the cart rumbled up the road towards the tall walls surrounding the city of Fallham.

“You think every idea I have is a bad idea James.” Iona retorted from the back of the cart. Next to Alyx on the driver’s bench, James made a face.

“They usually are.” He replied, eyeing the gatehouse before them and the guards that now all turned to face the approaching cart. “And this one’s a whole new level.”

“Too late now.” Alyx butted in quickly as she straightened her back and held the gaze of the awaiting guards. Three of them stepped out to block the road, shields creating a wall before the gate as their captain stepped out in front and held up a hand. James obediently pulled on Moondust’s reins, bringing the horse to a stop.

“State your business in Fallham.” The guard captain commanded. Alyx stretched her neck, flexing her muscles beneath her armour before she replied in as loud and official a voice as she could muster.

“We seek audience with Baron Zaygor.” She told them.

The captain looked her up and down, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why would the Baron even entertain such a request, warrior of Aldiron?”

Alyx didn’t answer, instead feeling the back of the cart shift as Iona stood up, coming into view.

Her armour was removed, and she was dressed in a dress of deep green sewn with golden thread patterns of feathers. Meghan and Iona had spent most of the morning cleaning and brushing out her hair so that it fell straight past her shoulders again. Alyx couldn’t help but be impressed with their handiwork. While the warrior that had travelled with them the past two months had been erased, they had somehow managed to restore the lost princess of Aldiron in her place.

“Because it is not the warriors requesting the audience guardsman. You can tell the Baron that Iona Ravellan, Princess of Aldiron, begs audience, and hospitality.” Iona spoke strongly, and confidently. The guards of Fallham took a half step back in surprise, looking to one another questioningly. Even the captain seemed taken aback. Though he recovered well, nodding his head.

“Of course, Princess. I will carry the message personally. It will take some time of course, for me to get you an answer.” He responded. Iona curled her lip slightly, as if his words had somehow offended her.

“Then you’d best get moving. I’ve travelled a long way to be left waiting at the gates.” She told him, her voice dripping with a sneer of superiority. The guardsman bowed his head and spun on his heel quickly, slipping back between the shieldwall, through the gates and into the city beyond.

Once he had left, Iona sank back down into the back of the cart, letting her shoulders sag into a far more relaxed posture as soon as she was out of sight of the guards.

James looked about him, staring after the guards with an uncertain expression.

“You’re sure he’ll bite the hook? It’d be easy to take us hostage right now.” He muttered quietly, never taking his eyes off the guards and his knuckles whitening as he gripped the reins in a vice.

Behind him, Meghan chuckled and reached up to pat his tensed elbow. “Then it’d be best not to give them ideas darling?” She suggested. At her touch, James seemed to come back to his senses somewhat, relaxing his shoulders.

“He’ll take the bait.” Iona said with certainty. “Zaygor’s been fending off attacks from Draconeus since before the last war. There’s no love between them. He won’t turn us over.”

“Doesn’t mean we’re safe though.” Meghan said through gritted teeth. Alyx looked back at the woman. She was tense, her arms folded across her chest, her gaze distant. Besides the short interaction to calm James, Meghan seemed more anxious than anyone else in the cart. Alyx was about to ask why when Iona spoke up.

“True. Zaygor’s a powerful sorcerer. And he’s driven by ambition and desires of grandeur. My father always cautioned me about the days I would eventually have to deal with him. He said there weren’t many men in the world more self-important and unpleasant than the Baron of Fallham. We’ll need to be careful here.” She explained.

“He has what we want. We should be searching for the Brightblade.” James grumbled. Iona shot him an annoyed look.

“We will be. But a man as powerful as the Baron? He likely at least knows where the piece might be. Even more likely that he owns the piece we need. And seeing as we’re entering knowing nothing, diplomacy takes the lead over any other option.” Her gaze turned to Alyx now.

“We’ll try and negotiate the piece from him, he might be willing to trade us for it. But that will need a calm approach. Tact.” She said pointedly. Alyx scowled at the unspoken statement within her words. Because you’re famed for your level-headed and thought through actions Iona.

Outwardly though, she nodded. “One silent royal guard coming up.” She replied, giving a half salute. Iona smiled thankfully.

Alyx turned her head back to look about them before quickly slapping at her neck as she felt an annoying tickling sensation touch down.

“Hope he hurries up though. Otherwise, these damned bugs will have eaten us alive by the time he accepts our audience.” She muttered, glancing about at the swarm of dark mosquitos beginning to swarm around them.

The bugs had been haunting them the past couple of days, since entering into the wetlands. The land around Fallham was a far departure from the Aldiron that Alyx knew. The air was cloying and warm, even now, barely a month after the new year. Mists hung low over the land which sunk into pools and streams, choked by tall forests of deep green. Even the road was different, occasionally crossing over land so sunken and wet that the path was built up in wooden walkways across the swamps.

Fallham itself was hidden from the road by high walls built of stone, with wooden roofs covering their tops from the rain. The walls were not as tall as Aldiron’s, but within the flat, boggy ground of the area, flanked by forests, they were just as imposing.

The group sat and waited a while longer, with Alyx continually swatting at the bugs. Next to her, James’ tension slowly began returning the longer he waited. At one point he reached a hand back to take one of Meghan’s. Alyx smiled as the quick interaction seemed to calm both of them as one.

It took around twenty minutes for the guard captain to return, and from the look on his face, he had perhaps even been running to get back. As he came into view again, James cleared his throat and Iona rose from the back of the cart, watching him expectantly.

The captain came to a stop and bowed low. “Princess, the Baron invites you and your entourage to join him at his palace. He has sent an escort of his honour guard to guide you through the city.” He said, taking deep breaths to recover from running.

Iona looked down at him. “Good, thank you.” She replied, before nodding to James who clicked his tongue, starting Moondust forwards again. It was only once they passed by the gate guards and into the city that Iona’s gaze turned to James and she gave him a quick smug smile.  James simply tilted his head in a gesture of defeat and turned away from Iona, focussing on driving.

Within the walls, a company of eight soldiers stood, awaiting the group. Their armour was different to Alyx’s own. Lighter brown gambesons of thick linen covered their bodies, with their chests and shoulders armoured by leather covered in a crisscross of metal strips. The armour was lighter than Alyx’s, and likely better than hers for fighting in the cloying swamp air. Even their weaponry was different. Unlike Alyx and the others, who carried long hand and a half swords, the soldiers of Fallham had short bladed scimitars on their belts. Sharpened only on one side and thicker than Alyx’s blade, she could imagine them being used to cut aside the thick vegetation as much as their enemies.

Their archers too were different, carrying shorter bows that had been bent and curved differently to James’ longbow. Some others carried a sling across their backs, bearing a number of short, flat throwing spears.

Alyx eyed them warily as they fell into step alongside the cart, two of them even stepping in front of Moondust to take the lead. As they descended the road away from the gatehouse however, her attention was pulled away quickly to focus on the city of Fallham itself.

The city sprawled out from the gates in a web of wooden buildings. To Alyx’s left, the wall spread across the city’s western side, curving around to the north. To her right, it extended a short distance before reaching the vast expanse of a deep, dark lake. Towers watched out into the lake, where Alyx could make out small fishing boats, dotted across the water’s surface.

Several rivers and streams split off from the lake, spreading out and cutting through the city like blood vessels from a heart. Buildings and bridges crisscrossed these canals, giving the impression that the city was built more on the water than the land.

In fact, Alyx could see there was more truth to that thought than she had at first realised as she made out that several of the city’s central buildings were raised up on wooden platforms built into the water itself, artificially extending Fallham into the lake.

But the part that drew Alyx attention more than anything else, was the palace of Fallham itself. Built on an island between two of the wider canals at the city’s centre, the building was a tower, its lower levels built of ancient stone and rising to newer, dark wooden upper floors. It overlooked the entire city, its top levels standing many stories above the nearest buildings. Alyx could make out the patrolling figures of archers walking balconies on those higher floors, watching over the city.

People watched the procession through the streets from windows and covered porches, but very few were on the streets. Everyone seemed to have somewhere to shelter, and yet none seemed well clothed or clean, like those from the upper city of Aldiron. Alyx leaned over to her brother.

“Have you noticed…” She began and James hummed an affirmative.

“No-one’s rich. It’s like Winter without the beggars.” He agreed. Alyx pursed her lips in thought.

“So where are they?” She asked and James made a quiet sound of agreement, his gaze trailing over the city, suspicion clouding his features.

“I don’t know, but let’s play it safe here, yeah? One hand on your sword, tighter one on your coin.”

Alyx nodded in agreement, settling one hand on the pommel of her sword as they carried on forwards.

A few minutes later, they had reached the bridge crossing to the palace’s island. Led by the guards, they passed across it, moving through a group of stationed soldiers, standing vigil to block the bridge.

Entering into a courtyard at the front of the palace, James was guided to somewhere to park up the cart and the group all climbed down, stretching their limbs out as they did so. Iona turned to face James.

“Stay with the cart for now. We’ll send word once we’ve met with the Baron.” She told him, her voice loud enough for the surrounding guards to hear. James bowed his head obediently to her.

“Your majesty.” He said simply.

It was a ruse of course. James was positioned in the courtyard with the cart in the case of a quick getaway being needed, and in case they needed someone elsewhere once the Baron knew what they had come for.

Meghan stepped close to James, squeezing his hand once and leaning in to kiss him.

“Be careful.” He told her softly. She smiled and patted his cheek lovingly before turning and falling into step next to Iona, her violet clothing flowed around her hips and upper arms as she moved. Her chest was armoured beneath her copper metal breastplate, as were her shins beneath greaves and her forearms beneath bracers. For once though, her lower arms were bare skin, only partially covered by her armouring, her white tattoos practically shining in the setting sun. Her curved sword was sheathed at her side and her left hand rested on its hilt.

Alyx smiled and nodded once to James before falling into step behind the two nobles. She was glad to be sealed entirely in her mother’s old suit of armour again, her sword at her side and three throwing axes in loops on her belt. Something about stepping through the doors of this palace felt ominous, like walking into the web of some great spider, waiting to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Alyx had no intention of being caught unawares here.  

They stepped into the palace and Alyx risked one quick look back at James, who had leaned back against the cart. He looked casual, a simple guard awaiting instructions from his royal charge, but Alyx knew well his eyes would be tracing the courtyard, figuring out angles and counting the soldiers in the space. Hell, even if they hadn’t been warned about the dangers that Baron Zaygor posed, she knew James would be doing that.

And then the palace doors closed behind them and James was gone.

The guards led them through wide corridors of stonework that Alyx recognised as Evellien designed. The same swirling carved patterns that had been on the vault door in Aldiron wound up pillars and archways. Tapestries and paintings covered the walls and brasiers of coals burned brightly at the sides of the space. It spoke of wealth, but a different wealth to the palace at Aldiron. To Alyx, the Falcon’s Nest had always felt ancient and understated, like an earned richness brought about through generations.

This place though was different. The wealth here was on full display, front and centre and covering over the ancient beauty of the Evellien ruins the palace was built upon. It spoke of a fragile vanity, someone who wanted those around them to know exactly how rich and powerful they were.

In a past life, Alyx would have had a lot of fun stealing anything that wasn’t nailed down here.

They followed stairs, placed within the Evellien ruins without even a thought towards the history they were atop, that wound up multiple floors. They crossed from the ruined stones into a building of dark wood that rose higher and higher.

After what seemed like an age, they reached the peak of the final staircase and the guards approached a set of double doors. Two more guards obediently stepped forwards and pushed the doors inwards, allowing them to enter without waiting.

They swung inwards to a grand throne room. A deep red carpet ran up the centre of the space. Either side was flanked by artwork, statues and busts. It was not the grand audience chamber that the throne room of Aldiron was, but a chamber dedicated to the ego of its master. A floor to ceiling window dominated the far side of the room, replacing the entire back wall with glass that was supported by gilded designs of swirling, arcing gold. Two doors led to either side of the throne room, both were currently open, though as they approached Alyx didn’t look through either.

Instead, she held her gaze on the throne. Or rather, on the person sat in it.

He was tall, and fit. He wore clothing of fine silk of red and black, accented with golden jewellery across his chest and arms. He wore a thick, gilded amulet bearing a blood red ruby around his neck, every finger bore rings of gold and silver, and his wrists held jewelled bracelets. A series of golden rings were pierced through his ears. His head was bald, though a perfectly groomed and shaped beard covered his jawline. Every exposed part of his umber-brown skin was covered in tattoos of ebony black swirling patterns, except for his face. He had eyes as golden as his jewellery and a warm welcoming smile that showed a mouth of shining white teeth.

There was a handsome beauty to him that even Alyx could appreciate. But one that felt… wrong. Like one of the poisonous frogs that lived in the swamps, all pretty, bright colours to lure you in, but murderously poisonous should you actually get close enough. There was a venom to this man, one that set alarm bells ringing in Alyx’s mind.

His toxic image was helped by the gathering of other people within the throne room. They were all around the room, Alyx counted ten of them in total, six women and four men. All of them wore clothing that barely covered any modesty they still had. If it could even still be called clothing at all. The women wore what might generously be called dresses, but were actually simple strips of thin silk that came over their shoulders to cover their breasts and hung down between their legs, baring their sides, arms and legs and tied in place with thin golden chains at their shoulders and waists. The men wore even less, leaving them bare chested with only wide leather belts that held long strips of silk hanging between their legs. It did not escape Alyx’s notice that all of them were beauties that put some of the finest in Aldiron to shame, or that their eyes were half-lidded and their mouths turned in soft, bliss filled smiles.

Her hand tightened on her sword.

As they approached down the centre of the throne room, the man gently slapped the thigh of the woman sat in his lap. She pouted at him, and he muttered something inaudible to her, and she turned her head to regard their group, then she giggled and stood from him. She stepped aside and he rose from his throne, his arms wide and his smile warm.

It was the smile of a liar. Alyx knew it well.

“Princess Iona Ravellan! You have no idea how glad I am to see you alive!” He greeted Iona. His voice rose and fell like a singer’s melody.

Iona smiled politely and bowed her head. “Baron Reltan Zaygor.” She greeted him. “You have my thanks for allowing us into your city. And for not turning us over to Draconeus.” There was a question in her words, asking whether the Baron might still change his mind and turn her over.

Zaygor smiled again. “Not at all Princess. And believe me, there is no love lost between myself and the creature that sits your throne now. You are in no threat of being given over to him from me.” His gaze turned serious, almost mournful. “My condolences about your father.”

Iona lowered her head for a second, pain flashing across her face. “Thank you, Baron.”

“King Samuel and I may have had our disagreements. But he was a good, honourable man. He did not deserve the fate of his kingdom.” Zaygor continued. Iona nodded her thanks again.

Zaygor gaze then turned from Iona to look at her companions. His gaze lingered on Alyx for barely a second before moving on, clearly dismissing her. But when he looked to Meghan his eyes widened, and his mouth opened in a surprised smile.

“Lady Meghan Whiteoak! The secret power behind the throne of the falcons. A pleasure as always.” He said eventually. Meghan tilted her head, regarding him warily.

“Pleasure’s all mine Baron, I assure you.” She replied politely, though Alyx noticed a muscle tense and feather in her jaw as she spoke.

Zaygor regarded her silently, smirking as if at some private joke. Alyx couldn’t help but feel that if there was a joke, it was at Meghan’s expense.

Then, without so much as turning his head, Zaygor lifted his arm and clicked his fingers at the nearest of the scantily clad servants, who turned her head instantly. Like an obedient pet, Alyx thought bitterly.

“Wine!” Zaygor commanded simply. The servant scurried off quickly, disappearing into one of the side rooms. As she passed through the door, Alyx glimpsed a grand dining room beyond. Turning her head, Alyx saw that the door opposite led to a bedroom. She noted with disgust that two more servants lay asleep in the sheets of the bed, completely nude.

As his servant hurried off, Zaygor slowly paced around Iona, looking her up and down. His lip curled with a grimace of revulsion. One mirrored by Alyx as he passed near her, filling her nostrils with an overwhelming hit of perfumes.

“The road has not been kind to your legendary beauty Princess. You look like an urchin dragged from the muck.” Zaygor sneered. Alyx bristled behind him. Iona looked beautiful. Alyx had no idea how Meghan had managed to work any sort of order into her hair, or keep that dress cleaned and pressed, but it certainly captured the princess that Alyx had first met on the Tide Road in Aldiron. And that was to say nothing of the fact Alyx was certain that Zaygor had never seen an urchin in his life.

Iona though, simply smiled politely and shrugged. “There’s little accounting for fashion when you’re on the run from demons.” She said, her tone apologetic. Zaygor sniffed and curled his nose.

“Or hygiene apparently.”

Iona’s mouth became a thin line and she shrugged.

Alyx was surprised Zaygor could smell anything over the flowery stench of his perfumes. She eyed him carefully, her fingertips drummed on her sword pommel. Only Iona’s warning to stay calm was keeping her from speaking up to defend Iona.

And then Zaygor stepped close to Iona, his smile splitting from ear to ear.

“Even still, the stories of your beauty were no exaggeration. You truly are breathtaking to behold.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Alyx’s blood boiled in her veins.

“Step back!” She growled, her hand fully closing around the hilt of her sword and half drawing it. She looked to Iona. Let me cut his smug head off, we can search for the sword once he’s rotting in the ground.

Zaygor chuckled low, remaining close to Iona, his golden eyes never leaving her. “Loyal dog you’ve got there Princess, protective.”

Alyx ground her teeth, but she didn’t move. Not yet.

“We’ve been on the run a long time, plenty of threats to protect me from so far.” Iona replied, her voice calm and collected. She flexed her hand at her side, warning Alyx to stay. “She’s always quick to protect me from them. But we don’t need to worry about them here Alyx.” She spoke over her shoulder before turning back to Zaygor. “Do we?”

Zaygor looked from Iona to Alyx, examining the two of them. He didn’t answer for a second and gave a simple chuckle before lifting his hands into the air and stepping back from Iona. “No. Nothing to worry about here Princess.” He replied, a thin smirk curling his lips.

Alyx had her doubts. But given Iona’s reassurance, she nodded and let her sword audibly sink back into its sheath.

Tension thickened the air for a moment before the creak of a door opening and the soft patter of bare feet on the wooden floor echoed through the throne room. The servant that had left earlier reappeared, now carrying a large clay pitcher and a tray of goblets.

“Ah, finally.” Zaygor said, his tone completely friendly once more, as if what had just happened had all been in Alyx’s imagination. He took a goblet from the tray and passed it to Meghan, and another to Iona before taking one for himself. It didn’t escape Alyx’s notice that the tray had only borne three goblets upon it.

The servant poured each of them a drink of deep burgundy wine before bowing her head and stepping back, remaining nearby with the pitcher. Zaygor lifted his goblet in a toast.

“To new friends!” He said warmly. Iona smiled and clinked her goblet off his. To her side, Meghan hesitantly joined the toast, still watching him carefully. Zaygor raised his goblet to his lips and took a long swig before sighing in satisfaction.

“Ah! Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your royal visit? Surely it can’t be as simple as hiding from Draconeus? Even he’s smart enough to guess you might come here.” He asked. Iona chuckled.

“The Brightblade.” She responded quickly, taking a polite sip of her own wine.

Zaygor snorted out a laugh. “That old legend? An ancient sword split into three that’s the only thing that can kill a Blood Demon. Don’t tell me you’re here chasing a fairy story?”

“You know better than most that some fairy stories are very much true Baron.” Iona retorted, gesturing to Zaygor’s tattooed arms. “And we’ve found enough evidence in our research to believe that a piece of the Brightblade is here in Fallham.”

Zaygor looked sceptical, taking another drink of his wine. “What evidence?”

“Research that suggests Fallham is the site of an ancient Evellien capital, a ‘market’ city named Aethril.” Iona told him.

“Ah, then you need a new researcher.” Zaygor told Iona, pointing a finger at her with a smug chuckle as he walked back to perch in his throne. Meghan let out a low growl into her goblet, hiding it behind a drink.

“Care to explain?” Iona asked, approaching to casually lean on one of the wooden pillars supporting the ceiling.

“Aethril wasn’t a city. Just an Evellien citadel, a fortress on the surface.” Zaygor explained, clearly revelling in his knowledge. “The true city was Birn Tharum, a city of the Dwarves that lay in vast caverns beneath Aethril.”

Iona nodded slowly, tilting her head and sipping her wine as she listened, arms folded across her chest.

“It was a market city though. A trade hub between Dwarves and Evellien. And the fortress did become a capital of the Evellien realms after their schism. But when the Dwarves were cursed by Draconeus, they destroyed Birn Tharum, and Aethril.” Zaygor went on.

“So, what happened to Aethril’s ruins?” Iona asked. Zaygor chuckled and pointed downwards.

“You are standing in them Princess.” He answered with no small amount of satisfaction. “Fallham’s earliest citizens made their homes around the ruins, plundering treasures from them. It’s a practice I have… perfected. The vaults below my palace contain all sorts of ancient and legendary treasures.”

“Like a piece of a mythical blade?” Iona suggested and Zaygor shrugged.

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” He replied, with a sly smile. “But I don’t just give away items from my treasury for charity, demon slaying or not.”

Iona pushed off the pillar, smiling at Zaygor. “A matter of cost then.” She deduced and Zaygor smiled back. A serpent’s smile.

“I suppose we could view it that way.” He replied, matching Iona’s tone.

“And your cost would be?” Iona asked him. Zaygor considered her for a while, his tongue running across his teeth. Alyx could have sworn his eyes flicked to look at her for a split second before he answered.

“This mission of yours. Even if it succeeds, it only gets you a sword. One that can kill Draconeus perhaps, but he is one man. An exceedingly powerful man, behind an exceedingly powerful army. Which also hides behind the walls of Aldiron. If I were a betting man, I wouldn’t be betting on you.” He began.

“Which would set your cost high.” Iona agreed.

“It would.” Zaygor confirmed. “But I still believe both of us could benefit from this, in the long run.”

A knot of dread formed in Alyx’s chest. As if some part of her knew she wouldn’t like what was coming.

“I’m listening.” Iona said.

“A union. Between Aldiron and Fallham. Between Ravellan and Zaygor. Between you and me.”

“Go to hell!” Alyx’s voice burst from her throat in a snarl of outrage.

“Yank your hound’s leash Princess, her barking annoys me.” Zaygor said simply, not taking his eyes off Iona. Alyx dropped her hand to a throwing axe. One good throw, Iona, and we don’t need to hear this anymore.

“I wouldn’t press her too hard Baron, her bite is much worse than her bark, I can assure you of that.” Iona replied evenly, her own tone remaining just as conversational as Zaygor’s. Then she turned her head to Alyx. “You can stand down Alyx. I’m alright. Go see to your brother and our supplies. We’ll need them unpacked in our rooms. We’ll be staying here a while whilst the Baron and I negotiate.”

With that last part of the sentence, she turned back to Zaygor who chuckled and nodded.

“Of course, Princess, I’ve been having chambers prepared for you all since I heard of your arrival. And don’t worry, they have real baths so you can get that road stench off yourself.” He confirmed and Iona nodded her thanks, taking another drink of wine.

Alyx turned on her heel almost immediately, her hand remaining solidly clamped on her throwing axe as she stalked from the room, returning to James as commanded.

It was only when the throne room doors closed behind her and she started down the stairs again that she let go of the weapon. Her blood was still boiling, far more than she had expected. And she couldn’t shake the desire to embed her axe in Zaygor’s slimeball face.

But still, she smiled to herself.

Everything Iona had predicted had been right. He’d told them exactly where to find the Brightblade piece he owned. The vaults beneath his citadel. Now Iona and Meghan just had to keep him entertained while Alyx and James did what they do best.

Plan a heist.