The Empire’s Finest
Loric Brightfist closed his eyes and tried to focus. The soft, repetitive crunching of boots on dry grass burrowed into his thoughts far deeper than he could hope to root them out. To his profound frustration, somehow the bustle of Kellith proved easier to tune out than a single impatient woman pacing back and forth. Decades of discipline proved to be powerless against such a simple foe and so, with a reluctant sigh, he conceded defeat.
“Do you wish to wear a hole through Vilratha before he returns?”
He knew that his comment would invite a tirade from the Artificer, but at least it would drown out the sound of her steps. Without skipping a beat, his half-hearted wish was granted.
“Utterly ridiculous,” Switch said under her breath. “It would take as many years as there are blades of grass out here to make a dent. Even just a passing glance at the geology lab would have done you well, Head Artificer Lorritho would have given you an earful. That old dolt sure loved the sound of his own voice.”
Her pace increased as she worked herself up, magnifying the only movement in sight beyond the wind lazily blowing through the grass. When the door to her guarded lab had closed for the first time years ago, Loric was convinced that she would never step beyond it for the rest of her days. The irony of finding himself alone with her in the open expanse of the Kellithian Plains was not lost on him.
“I cannot pretend to be an experienced negotiator,” she continued, “but surely it would not take this long to secure passage with that much Corona!” Fidgeting in one of the pockets lining her coat, she fished out a slightly crumpled piece of paper traced with lavender ink. The group had been approached by a curiously tight-lipped courier bearing the letter just a few days’ walk from Kellith. Loric was not able to deduce a sliver of meaning from the indecipherable arrangement of numbers, but Switch insisted that they indicated a precise time and location.
“The Consortium was quite specific with their instructions, and we have much, much more ground to cover than I anticipated. I know full well that they have a reputation for being overly cautious and secretive, but they could have at least had the decency to suggest more comprehensive travel preparations.” With the midday sun looming over them, she wiped her forehead as she pored over the letter for the hundredth time. “Are you absolutely certain that the people this far from Kellith would recognize you?” she asked. “I have to believe that a respected diplomat would be better suited to this than the most generic legionnaire imaginable.”
Loric shifted his weight to one foot and lifted the other, moving into a familiar training stance as he let her frustrations blow past him with the wind. “While your training focused on results,” he commented, “mine taught me caution and patience. The fewer risks we take, the better, especially when the security of the entire Empire is concerned. We will get there when we get there, and I trust that the Consortium will be accommodating. Besides, it would benefit you to have more faith in your companions; people can be strong in ways that might surprise you. You have your faults, as do I, and perhaps the boy has something we both lack.”
Switch’s mouth opened, but she miraculously lacked a response. Her pacing slowed and her brow furrowed in deep thought. Silently proud to have stumped the highest scientific authority on Vilratha, Loric lowered his foot and fluidly switched his stance.
Except for Switch’s steps and occasional grumbling, the two remained silent as the afternoon passed by and the sun began to set. When a familiar silhouette appeared on the horizon, she was quick to replace her expression of relief with one of annoyance.
“I hope your day trip was productive,” she whined. “Not a speck of shade in sight, any longer and I would melt away. Never thought that I would wish I had built up a Sorian tan.”
Jarco had just gotten into speaking distance and already had an apologetic smile on his face. “I’m sorry miss Switch, not many folks are heading east these days so it took some convincing.”
Her face contorted in some mixture of shock and disgust. “Miss? I certainly did not spend years at the Tower, slaving away day and night, to be called miss. I may only be a handful of years older than you, but that is still inappropriate.”
Loric thought to intervene, but decided it would be better for his two companions to get used to each other. He had initially asked Switch to be more discreet about her identity; her pride had made short work of that arrangement just a few minutes into their journey.
“Sorry sorry,” Jarco apologized profusely. “I’ve never met an Artificer before, what with growing up in the Northern Quarter. I only visited the Tower when my squad was tasked with helping to clear up the rubble…”
Before the conversation went too far in an unpleasant direction, Loric cut him off. “And I would remind both of you that such matters are not for open discussion. We are just normal pilgrims seeking passage to the Cloud Spire, completely unremarkable. Speaking of which, did you have any luck on that front?”
Jarco’s face lit up; ever since Loric had shown up at his cell in Kellith, he had been overjoyed to serve with a living legend of the Bronze Legion. “Yes, sir! A merchant bringing goods east to trade for ore. He was hesitant to bring us all the way, but he agreed to stop just a few days’ walk from the forests. We should expect him here just after Sunrest.”
“Great work,” Loric said. With a sly glance at Switch, he added, “We could not have asked for a better result.”
Switch huffed, unwilling to openly admit defeat. “So long as we escape this oppressive heat, I will not argue with the method. At least the nights are bearable.”
In stark contrast to the agitated Artificer, Jarco had calmly begun preparations for the evening. How many years had it been since Loric had stood next to a fellow soldier, setting up camp under the open sky? The fact that he felt himself experiencing nostalgia for sleeping in the rough meant the number was already too high.
“You know, mi-” Jarco stuttered, correcting himself. “Switch, I should have room in my bag for that bulky coat. You really don’t have to carry that around…”
“Out of the question.” Switch was obsessively ruffling through her bag again, presumably looking for something to tinker with now that they had stopped for the day. “I already spoke with Loric about this; the coat and the goggles stay on. I was asked to leave the safety of my lab, the least I can expect is some degree of comfort. Besides…” Her voice lowered in an attempt to mask her emotions. “I promised to carry their legacy with me. Always.”
She fell quiet, turning her back to the other two to fidget with her bag. Jarco turned toward Loric for guidance, but only got a lighthearted shrug in return. Loric had spoken with Switch numerous times since she had been taken into custody, but the way her mind worked was well beyond his reach. The reports were unclear if the fall of the Artificer’s Tower had affected her deeply or she had always been this eccentric, but all of his experience left him ill-prepared to understand her.
“So well anyways,” Jarco blurted, “can I ask you a question Sir Brightfist? If that’s alright?” This pattern had started since the trio first stepped foot out of Kellith: any time there was a stretch of silence, the boy grew increasingly uncomfortable until he struck up a conversation. While it had initially been irritating, Loric eventually came to find the enthusiasm oddly endearing. His face softened into a slight smile and he nodded. “And please,” he added, “just Loric is fine.”
Jarco’s eyes widened with wonder. “Well where would I start? Everyone in the Empire knows of your stand at the Battle of Bladed Hill, but what happened before that? How did you join the Legion?”
As memories of that desolate battlefield began to creep up from the recesses of his mind, Loric consciously shook them off. “All that I did was live,” he responded, “and nothing more. I cannot say the same for my brothers in arms, or the Ultharans just fighting for their homes.”
Before his words could fully sink in, Loric stretched and sat down to continue his story. “There was not much before that, though. Campaigns in Ulthara with progressively more men behind me. Before that, if you could believe it, I was a monk.”
“The Order of the Still Leaf,” Switch chimed in from the other side of camp. She was still rooting through her bag, but her tone had lightened. “The monastery furthest north of the Cloud Spire, on the shore of Cassamir’s Lake just before the Lintharian Woods.”
“It was,” Loric corrected her, “until The Blister grew too close a few years ago. The monastery was abandoned and they were forced to flee south.”
Jarco was leaning forward, speaking through a mouthful of the dried meat he had fetched from his bag. “That’s so far away! I’ve only left Kellith a few times on missions, and never further out than the plains. And then as far south as Ulthara! How did you make it all the way out here?”
“Humble beginnings, you could say.” Loric laughed to himself as he noticed Switch cocking her head to listen. “I think that is a story for another day, though. I have had more than my share of excitement and battle, it is a surprise that Raz’thilda decided to send this old man on another adventure. Most likely payback for scolding her in her younger years. She never quite shook that rebellious streak.”
“Is it true that you looked after her since birth?” Jarco asked. “To join the High Guard and protect the Royal Family, I could not imagine the burden. What is she like?”
“Even more stubborn than you would think,” Loric said playfully. “She was born determined; it’s no small secret that she decided to join the High Guard herself just to avoid getting married off to some noble. Seeing her don the white and crimson for the first time though…might have been the proudest moment of my life. She was not always so serious, at least before her brother and her parents passed. Not entirely surprising what happens to a person when they are forced to sit on a dangerous throne.”
Loric looked to the horizon to watch the last rays of sunlight fade. Although he was never inclined to observe the Sunrest, years among the devout of the Bronze Legion taught him to respect traditions that he did not personally hold. “I think that is quite enough for one day though. Remind me the next time we have a free moment and if I’m in the mood I’ll tell you about the High Guard.” With a soft chuckle, he added, “Just hope that nobody ever hits you as hard as Ilara hit me the first time we sparred. Rest well, Forgeson.”
With an unflattering yawn, Jarco stretched and laid down on his sleeping mat. “And you too,” he said, “Sir Brightfist. My father would never let me hear the end of it if I broke the Sunrest to listen to stories. Same to you, miss…Artificer Switch.”
The other two sat across from each other, staring in opposite directions of the endless expanse. This brief time after the rest of the world had gone to sleep was Loric’s time to reflect. Before long, only the soldier’s rhythmic snoring and Switch’s occasional fidgeting disturbed the silence.
“Loric…”
Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned around to see that Switch had done the same. “He is young,” she said, “naïve. I know we are not exactly the best of friends, but I have been enjoying the Empress’s hospitality long enough to intuit what is going on. She effectively disbands the High Guard, then sends one of its last four members on a vacation with a suspected mass murderer and a bright-eyed rookie.”
“Three,” Loric emphasized. “One of its last three members. Kem, Ilara, and I do as the Empress wishes, as should you.”
Switch shrugged and turned her head to look over towards Jarco. “I will never forget that creep Yohen. He was in charge of watching over me before you were, you know. Never a word from that man, but I knew he would run me through if I ever took a wrong step. Sucked the life out of whatever room he slinked into.”
Loric sighed and did his best to change the topic. “Let the boy do his job and go back to his family. There is no need for him to shoulder the burdens that you and I do. He has already seen enough, and he still has a chance to go home.”
A sly smirk formed at the edges of Switch’s lips, a telltale sign that she was about to say something she thought was clever. “You should know by now that ignorance is not one of my virtues. Although I think it suits him just fine, so I will try. We can call it even for all the suncakes you snuck into my lab.”
“Thank you,” Loric said sincerely. “When we get back, I know a certain baker in the Southern Quarter. I doubt the Empress would mind if we took a slight detour.”
Switch nodded and turned back to her bag, presumably to find something else to occupy her attention. With one fewer thing on his mind, Loric allowed himself to lay down and look up at the stars.
*******************************************************************************
Jarco and Loric both woke up just as the sun’s first light fell upon the plains. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jarco waved.
“Good-” he started to call, stopping himself when he noticed Loric’s finger on his lips. On the other side of camp, Switch was unceremoniously sprawled on her mat deeply asleep. With a nod, the two silently agreed to let her rest just a little while longer while they cleared up and prepared to leave. They took their time as they enjoyed the spreading warmth of the sun after a chilly night.
When a steady rumbling came into earshot, Loric began calling Switch’s name progressively louder until she begrudgingly pulled herself up. She only spared them a few incoherently groggy words as she hurriedly packed her bag before their visitor arrived. Surely enough, a horse and covered wagon slowly pulled into view.
When it reached them, Jarco excitedly waved to the wagon’s driver. Loric assumed that this was the merchant that the boy had hired; he had seen plenty of them come through the markets of the Eastern Quarter. The man had bushy white eyebrows contrasted against leathery skin tanned by years of traveling across the Kellithian Plains. He was old enough to justify settling down but apparently not old enough to be forced to, something that Loric related to all too well.
Next to him sat an unexpected companion: a dark-haired woman wearing a sky blue shirt and a straw hat pulled down to shield her face from the morning sun. All of her clothes, from her scratched vest down to her dirt-caked boots, were visibly weathered from travel. The sizable pack next to her had clearly also seen its share of the road; the sun-bleached leather was stuffed to the brim while various trinkets and charms dangled from its sides. It took her a moment to realize the wagon had stopped before she lifted her hat to look over at the group. She yawned and spoke with a gentle voice barely audible even in the still of the plains. “Ah! Good morning, isn’t it?”
Her unrefined accent was just barely unfamiliar, her appearance and clothing just outside of Loric’s recollection. Perhaps the minor mountains on the northeastern edge of the Empire?
“Seen better, seen worse,” the merchant grumbled. Looking over at Jarco, he said, “I know you said it was just you three, but I couldn’t say no to this young lady here. The way I figure it, there aren’t many wagons going out that far east and she just happens to be heading the same way. Won’t be a problem, I take it?”
“Oh of course not!” Jarco said nervously. “That should be fine, right?” The question was directed to Loric, who only grunted and nodded in return. They could attempt to outbid this other traveler, but it was not worth the risk of offending the merchant. The people out here took pride in taking care of each other, even those who only passed through.
“Good,” the merchant said. Briefly eyeing Switch, he added, “You gave me enough coin to not ask questions, but you lot are the strangest I’ve seen in these parts. Keep to yourselves when I make my stops and we’ll be at the forest soon enough. Now get on up and let’s get moving.”
The woman flashed them a smile before lowering the brim of her hat back over her face. Switch, Jarco, and Loric went around to the back of the wagon, climbed in, and got settled among the merchant’s cargo. The wagon lurched forward and they were on their way.
The following days passed by slowly and silently as they rode east through the Kellithian Plains. The merchant barely spoke a word beyond letting them know when they were stopping at a town along the road and asking if they needed supplies. Occasionally, the woman would join them in the wagon to escape the heat of the midday sun. She spent most of the time writing in her well-worn journal or gazing out at the open fields. Sometimes she would strike up a conversation with Jarco, although a vast majority of their talks centered around the boy’s childhood stories of his family back in Kellith. She seemed genuinely interested, frequently asking questions or warmly laughing at his jokes. Loric noticed that she spoke very little about herself; according to her, she was just an aimless traveler picking up odd jobs to get around Vilratha. When asked why she was out so far to the west, she simply responded, “I wished to see the ocean, it has been some time.” For that brief moment, her calm tone carried a hint of wistfulness and longing.
Eventually, the plains faded into grasslands as the shadow of the Cloud Spire loomed in the distance. The massive mountain at Vilratha’s center held a special place in the faiths of both the Sorians and Loric’s former brothers. Depending on whom you asked, it was the throne for the Emperors of old or the forgotten prison of a capricious god. Loric did not expect confirmation either way; the peak was obscured by a thick blanket of clouds and protected by impossibly steep cliffs. Its base was surrounded by a sprawl of forests in all directions, home to secluded monasteries in the north and villages of Forest-folk to the south and east. As they drew closer to the tree line, he could not help but feel some excitement to return for the first time since he left.
The wagon rattled to a halt, rousing its occupants from their respective thoughts and naps. “We’re here,” shouted the merchant from the front. They had stopped just shy of the trees: the unofficial but effective border of the Sorian Empire. “This is as far as I’ll go. Don’t go and get yourselves killed by forest-folk or bears or whatever is in there.”
As Loric and Switch gathered their things, Jarco was finishing his goodbyes with the nameless traveler. “If you’re heading south, stay safe! I hear things are a bit tense with the Ultharans these days, especially for a lady traveling alone. You’ll have to tell me some stories if we run into each other again.”
She smiled, her response directed at the others as well. “I should very much like that. Whatever lies ahead, I hope the trail is kind to you.”
Switch could only awkwardly smile back, having been unable (or unwilling) to talk with her since their journey together started. Loric, however, felt moved by the warmth and sincerity of her words. After hopping off the wagon, he waved and called back to her: “You as well. May the Sacred Sun light your way.”
She nodded and waved back as the wagon creaked back into motion southwards. “What a nice lady,” Jarco commented to break the silence. “Didn’t speak much, but I have a sense for these things. I hope those two get along well until they reach Ulthara.”
“You can fawn over her as we walk,” Switch grumbled. She had been visibly fidgety since they first got on the wagon; avoiding conversation and leaving her tools in her bag had left her with very little to keep herself stimulated. Although she had become somewhat grouchy, Loric was silently impressed with her restraint.
“The Consortium’s letter indicated a meeting point not far from here,” she continued. “There should be a clearing about a two day walk due east. We should get going to make up for lost time.”
As the wagon slowly faded from view, the group made their way into the forest. From the moment he stepped foot into the shade of the canopy, Loric felt a wave of nostalgia. All of his adult life had been spent under the open sky, but a part of him had always yearned to come back. The trees here were small and clustered in comparison to the massive oaks he had climbed during his youth. His surroundings felt familiar yet distant; he knew that it was not the forest that had changed, but himself.
Just as Switch had predicted, the trees opened up into an isolated clearing on the second evening of their walk. “But I was positive!” Switch fumed as she looked around for any signs of life. “This is basic cartography, the coordinates were precise!” With the fading light coming in from the canopy’s opening, Switched fetched a map and the crumpled letter from her bag. She pored over them, furiously verifying her deduction until Loric put his hand on her shoulder.
“I trust you did your job just fine,” he reassured her. “I know you would not lead us astray, especially with suncakes and blasting powder on the table. All we can do is wait for our host, and I have little doubt that all of us would appreciate some time to rest.”
“I suppose you make a point,” Switch sighed. “The margin of error on my calculations is negligible, after all.”
As they set up camp and settled in for the night, Jarco shared a surprisingly amicable conversation with Switch. They were saying something about the construction of the four bronze monoliths in Kellith, but Loric was too lost in his thoughts to pay attention. Above him, the silhouette of the Cloud Spire was even more imposing now that they had gotten closer. He remembered how he and his brothers would pray long past sunset when the clouds around its peak darkened, an ill omen from a long-forgotten myth. As the last traces of sunlight faded from the sky, he found himself thinking back on the traveler’s words. His trail had led him to the hells of war and back; he could only hope that this stretch would be kinder to him.
Reflections – Companions
“When you walk for as long as I have, at some point you will share your trail with another. Sometimes out of convenience, sometimes out of necessity, and sometimes just because you enjoy the company. It is much simpler to travel alone, but it would be foolish not to learn lessons wherever you can find them. In our differences I see more of the world, and in turn I get closer to what I am searching for.”