Chapter 454: The State of Gallowshill

Chapter 453: The State of Gallowshill

While Lyria slept, in one of the rooms along the corridor, Isaac and Duke Aurelgrave remained awake.

Lucian was dressed in his sleeping robes, seated upon the edge of the bed, the weariness of the day plainly etched upon his countenance. Yet rest would not come to him until he had received the intelligence he required, and so he waited, patient as ever, while Oliver moved quietly about the chamber, seeing to the final arrangements of the night.

Oliver attempted to stifle a yawn, though he failed rather miserably in the attempt, and Lucian turned towards him at once.

"You need not remain with me," Lucian said. "Your labours are concluded for the night, Oliver. Go and take your rest."

Oliver shook his head.

"I am not in the least tired, Your Grace. And my duties do not end until you yourself have retired."

Lucian’s lips twitched.

"There is no room for argument in this matter. You shall go and rest, and that is my final word upon it."

Oliver pouted — an expression Lucian had scarce ever before witnessed upon his valet — and then bowed.

"Very well, Your Grace. I wish you a good night."

Lucian inclined his head, and Oliver departed, closing the door softly behind him.

Isaac watched him go, then turned to Lucian.

"Oliver remains as loyal as ever, I perceive."

Lucian nodded, though he offered no further remark, and Isaac understood well enough that the time for pleasantries had passed.

"I must apologise," Isaac began, "for every inconvenience you and your party suffered this evening, Your Grace."

"It hardly seems to have been your doing," Lucian said, waving him off.

"Still," Isaac continued, "I did attempt to speak with the official regarding better treatment. I was told he lay ill."

"That is precisely what we too were told of him," Lucian observed.

Isaac nodded.

"I have it upon good authority that the official is not ill in the least. He simply has no wish to receive your company. Not even I was granted an audience with him, and I am no noble."

He paused, then continued.

"I must also offer my apology, for I fear my own conduct may have betrayed something of my purpose here. I came ahead of you, to survey Gallowshill on your behalf, and the people proved welcoming enough at first — that is, until they were not. It was not merely that I asked to see the official. I had argued, besides, that they ought to send the carriages to the docks to collect you, for the townspeople had agreed, as one, not to extend their company to the docks at all."

Lucian nodded slowly.

"Then a letter was indeed sent ahead?"

"Yes," Isaac said. "But the letter was dispatched the very day the hailstorm ceased."

Lucian’s frown deepened. Had the Crown, then, sent some messenger out even in the midst of the storm itself?

"So early as that?" he asked.

Isaac nodded.

"Beyond this, what I found most suspicious of all was that the letter stated, in plain terms, that it was Princess Lyria who was to come. If I understand the matter correctly, this decision was made but yesterday, at the ball itself."

Lucian laughed, though there was little mirth in the sound.

"That is not quite so surprising as you might suppose. It was plain enough that Her Highness was sent here by design, and Her Highness herself is entirely aware of that fact."

"If she is aware of it," Isaac began, a frown upon his face, "then why did she come at all? The people of Gallowshill harbour a deep and rooted dislike for any of noble birth, or even for those merely associated with such persons. It matters not what connetion one claims — they are determined to show every one among you precisely how little they care for your kind. It signifies nothing that Princess Lyria may understand their plight. They care nothing for this competition, nor do they involve themselves in it in the smallest degree. The scrying veil holds no use for them whatsoever."

"Then perhaps this shall prove rather more difficult than we had supposed," Lucian said slowly.

He paused, then asked, "What is the present state of the town?"

Isaac winced at the question.

"Most of the houses have been destroyed by the hailstorm. The greater part of those affected now dwell together within the official’s own home. Yesterday, Ursula — the woman who keeps this inn — searched out the key, that this place might serve as shelter for the people. It has stood idle these many years, but the official instructed it be reserved instead for your own company. That occasioned no small outrage among them."

"Was there no other place we might have lodged?" Lucian asked.

Isaac shook his head.

"This place offers the greatest room, and it is the only inn the town possesses. The official’s home is filled already with those whose dwellings were destroyed. But I must confess there is a further cause for their anger besides. They have written to the Crown these many years, pleading for aid and resources, but ceased their petitions some five years past. And now, of a sudden, the Crown sends aid, after having abandoned them so long. They have laboured to make do upon their own these many years, and I must tell you, some of the buildings now in ruin were not destroyed by the recent storm at all."

He paused, then continued.

"This town suffers also from bandit raids. Their crops are at times stolen, though they have always fought the bandits off, from what I have gathered. The bandits have not appeared for some while now, but the people remain ever upon their guard. The houses are in a sorry state, though I daresay Your Grace shall observe this for yourself come morning. The fields lie waterlogged, which causes them considerable hardship, for the fields are their chief source of livelihood. Some have been destroyed entirely, their crops washed away. They stand in need of help not merely with rebuilding, but with feeding themselves, for there is a shortage of food besides. And there remains the matter of the canal."

"Is there some difficulty with the canal?" Lucian asked.

He did not recall observing any trouble with it upon their journey to the town.

"The water level has risen considerably," Isaac said. "The townspeople attempted to lower the sluice gates, that the level might be reduced, but the mechanism is old and much damaged. They fear it may overflow entirely, should a further storm arise and the waters rise past their present height."

He sighed.

"The situation here is grave, Your Grace, and the people are proud. I confess I do not see how you are to accomplish all that is required within a mere fortnight."

Lucian was silent a moment.

Then he sighed.

"I am not alone in this undertaking," he said. "And I am certain we shall contrive to accomplish something of worth. When morning comes, we shall begin our labours. You ought to take your own rest now. I thank you for this — for having quitted your home with such haste, to render us aid."

Isaac shook his head.

"Had I not done so, my wife should very likely have thought ill of me for it. Not after all Your Grace has done on our behalf."

Lucian’s expression softened at once.

"Do tell me — how does she fare?"

"Round as a ball, Your Grace. She is due within three months, but her sickness has passed, and the physician attends her continually." Isaac spoke with a smile upon his countenance. "I am truly grateful for what you have done for a man such as myself, and for so many others besides."

Lucian waved a hand dismissively.

"There is no cause to thank me for it. It should be rather unbecoming of me, were I not to lend my help where it lies within my power to do so."

"You remain as humble and as upright as ever, Your Grace," Isaac said, with a soft laugh. "Should you have need of anything further, you need only call upon me."

Lucian nodded.

"I confess we may well require every measure of help we can obtain. But there remains one further task I should ask of you."

"What might it be?"

Lucian regarded him steadily.

"It is a simple enough matter. I am confident that, once this competition has concluded, you shall perceive for yourself why I am so insistent that no person is better suited to what we have planned than Princess Lyria."

Isaac was quiet a moment.

"Time shall tell, Your Grace," he said at last. "But I shall observe closely, as you suggest."

Then he bowed.

"I bid you a good night, Your Grace."

"And I, you," Lucian told him.

Once Isaac had departed, Lucian settled upon his own bed — not nearly so comfortable as that to which he was ordinarily accustomed, though comfort was scarcely his present aim — and resolved that, come morning, he should need to inform the whole of the team of what he had this night learnt.

---

Meanwhile, Corvin, who had been rather vocal at certain points throughout the evening, eventually grew weary and made his way into the establishment. He slept upon a chair, while his guard and valet voiced their complaints, but he slept so deeply that he never perceived someone had slipped out of the establishment that very night.

For this person could not find sleep at all.

And though the man knew full well his own guards and valet should likely raise a considerable commotion upon waking to find him absent, he cared nothing for it.

He simply took himself out for a stroll.

He knew there was no possibility whatsoever of his finding sleep that night — save, perhaps, were he to steal into a certain lady’s chamber, for her presence alone seemed to grant him ease — but this he would not, and could not, permit himself, for he would not compromise her in such a manner.

Besides, he wondered, there might be certain things yet to be discovered about this place... perhaps.