Interlude 05 Ripples

Walking through the sunset-lit paths of Ashridge, Dorian felt somewhat uneasy without the weight of his armor upon him.

He had considered taking it off earlier to see to its maintenance after the battle they had fought against the beasts. At the thought of what had occurred that morning, Dorian resisted the urge to snort.

It had been a well-deserved massacre.

The Goddess had smiled upon them this day...or perhaps it would be more appropriate to give thanks to Lord Lucien instead.

That was why he had made one small addition to today's celebration after speaking with Elias about it. The steward had agreed almost eagerly, and Dorian could not blame the elderly man for his rare loss of decorum.

Goddess knew the young lord he served would not accept even the faintest hint of praise.

Dorian exhaled faintly at the reminder of the man and how things had changed ever since Lord Varentis died and he found himself thrust into the role of captain by Merek.

When they had arrived all those months ago, Dorian had nearly turned the appointment over to the older man. He had even considered leaving House Varentis's service after what Lord Lucien had done no more than a week after their arrival in Ashridge.

Orcs or men...to take a woman by force was not something he could ever condone.

Even so, he had resolved to do his duty and execute Bran for his crime, justified or not. Yet after that, he would have rescinded his oath as well, accepting whatever dishonor came with it.

He could not bear the thought of serving someone so unlike Lord Varentis, the man he had originally sworn himself to.

But Lord Lucien had halted the execution...and after that, the changes came too quickly to ignore.

'Why did Lord Lucien even drag that girl into his service? If it was merely for appearance...'

If it had truly been a matter of lust, then why had Lord Lucien never laid a hand on her? He had been given plenty of opportunities to do so, and even on the night she had been taken into the manor, the young lord had not visited her chambers.

Dorian pushed the thoughts aside. There was no point speculating on the intentions of nobles. As long as Lord Lucien had not acted in an unseemly manner, then Dorian would gladly continue to serve him as he had served his father.

Perhaps it was those very same deliberations that had brought him to where he was now.

Other than the few unlucky guards slated to be on duty, the southern palisade was quieter than the rest of Ashridge.

Dorian's eyes swept across the walls, exchanging nods with the men who saluted at the sight of him. Even without his armor and off duty, there was no rest for the captain of House Varentis's guards.

After ensuring everything was as it should be, his attention was drawn to a particular spot upon the wall, where it had once failed during the Tithe.

Walking up the stairs, he came to a stop at the place where it had failed and turned to regard the darkening trees of the Deep Woods.

Dorian reached into his pocket and took out the goblin variant's fang, gripping it tightly as he wondered why he had come here.

Ever since that day Lord Lucien had come here to drink with the men, this place had become something of a landmark among the villagers.

People came here after moments that changed something in them, whether alone or in small groups.

Just as he had once said nothing about Lord Lucien drinking with men who were meant to be on duty, even while watching from afar, Dorian said nothing now about the occasional civilian who came to this spot on the wall.

Perhaps he too was not immune to the aftereffects of a noble's actions.

As though driving the point home, footsteps sounded near the stairs.

Dorian slid the fang back into his pocket and turned toward the stairs, guarded at first until he blinked at the unusual pairing before him.

Garrick, a noble's bastard, and Gerald, the largest of the household guards, walked toward him. The guard spoke first, carrying a barrel of ale under one arm.

"Captain."

Before the man could somehow manage a salute around the barrel, Dorian shook his head.

"At ease, Gerald. We are not on duty right now."

At his words, the guard gave a slow nod before setting his load down with a huff.

"We bumped into each other on the way here...seems like we all had the same idea," Garrick added when Dorian's gaze settled on him, lifting a sack that clacked as wooden mugs knocked together inside.

The captain exhaled through his nose. "I will take my leave then. Take care not to fall off the wall, you two."

Just as he turning to do just that, a slight cough left Garrick. When Dorian looked back, the man glanced away while ruffling his already messy hair.

"You are invited to join us, Dorian, seeing as you are off duty as well."

Garrick gestured to his lack of armor, while Gerald's eyes widened as he stared at the man.

As expected of a noble's bastard. Even removed from the family, only one who had the blood of nobility would be bold enough to invite a captain to drink with him.

Dorian considered for a brief moment before inclining his head. "I suppose indulging a little for the occasion is fine."

Gerald slumped slightly in relief, then perked up, the guard taking a few mugs from the sack Garrick was carrying.

As they filled their mugs from the cask of ale, Gerald and Garrick turned to him expectantly. It seemed he had been delegated to give the first toast of the night.

Dorian lifted his mug. "To dead orcs and to the lord who planned their demise."

At those words, a chuckle left Garrick as they pushed their mugs together. "Aye, I can drink to that."

They downed their ale together, as was customary for the first mug of a toast. Dorian felt it go down easier than it used to, compared to the last time he had drunk so long ago.

He had been but a lad back then, and the hatred he so often held back had burned brighter still.

Looking up, he couldn't help but realize it had been under a sky much like this one that he had met Lord Varentis as he walked aimlessly through the streets of Helvarn.

"Captain..."

Gerald's voice caused his head to lift, the guard looking at him with worry in his eyes.

That would not do. Even off duty, he must not waver as captain of House Varentis's guards.

Dorian shook his head slowly. "I was just thinking of Lord Varentis...our lord's father."

Garrick's hand stopped halfway through lifting his mug. "Lord Lucien's father..."

The noble's bastard looked between them, brow rising. "Was he as cunning as Lord Lucien? I can't help but be curious about the man who brought up someone like him."

Dorian shared a look with the large guard before gesturing for him to speak first.

When Gerald continued giving him an uncomfortable look, Dorian exhaled faintly. It seemed he would have to begin, or the man would be too nervous about saying the wrong thing.

"Between the two of them? I would say they are as different as night and day, Garrick."

At Garrick's questioning look, Dorian cleared his throat. "His father was...distant with Lord Lucien. It couldn't be helped when his duties often called him away from the capital. Lord Varentis had a talent for loosening the purses of his fellow lords to finance the kingdom's needs."

"I suppose that might explain why the two of them are so different though..."

He hesitated over whether to share the next words, and it seemed Garrick caught on.

"If it is something private within House Varentis, then you need not say more, Dorian."

Dorian watched the noble's bastard closely. "I suppose this was a long time ago, and it wouldn't hurt to share...but I must still ask that you do not repeat this, Garrick."

Garrick's hand went to his chest as he dipped his head. "I might just be a bastard, but I am still of House Vaelric's blood. I will not tarnish their honor."

Slowly, Dorian inclined his head. "I will hold you to that."

He took a sip from his mug before letting out a breath. "I had noticed Lord Varentis seemed to avoid his son often, even when he returned to the capital."

"When I asked, he told me the reason was to ensure his heir would not be a pale imitation of him. That, as heir, the boy had to find his own path."

Gerald, who had remained silent until that moment, spoke up then, his brow furrowing. "But Captain, the way Lord Varentis treated his daughter was..."

The noble's bastard looked between them, scratching at his stubble. "I didn't know Lord Lucien had a sister..."

"Half-sister," both Gerald and Dorian corrected at the same time, causing the man to blink before he slowly nodded.

"Half-sister then. Is she also a..." His words trailed off as he gestured to himself.

Dorian shook his head. "Lord Varentis married again a few years after Lord Lucien's mother died giving birth to him."

"So that's why he..." Garrick muttered, rubbing his chin absently.

When both Dorian and Gerald turned to him, the noble's bastard gestured in the direction of the ridge outpost. "When he came by to visit the outpost back during spring...we talked about my family and how I was cast out of House Vaelric."

They listened silently as Garrick recounted how sympathetic Lord Lucien had seemed, and the careful manner in which he had broached the subject.

Once he was done, the noble's bastard exhaled faintly. "I feel a little guilty now...unloading my troubles upon him with the kind of childhood he must've had."

"He never stopped me once though, and I didn't notice a thing from his expression. Well...I suppose that's normal for him. I can barely tell what he is thinking most of the time."

A chuckle escaped Gerald before he covered his mouth immediately after. When Dorian glanced toward him with a brow raised, the guard flushed before speaking slowly.

"Forgive my bluntness, but he was even worse when we first arrived. Captain, when you had ordered Marcus to secretly guard him during his walks around the village, he often groaned that Lord Lucien seemed like the strict and expressionless sort of lord to serve."

The corner of Dorian's mouth lifted at the agony Marcus had shown during those days. He would admit that there was a slight tint of regret when the hunter had begun to follow Lord Lucien around and he had to stop the secret escorts.

At the look of confusion on Garrick's face, Dorian inclined his head. "It was back during autumn, before the fall of Cragwatch. Lord Lucien was..."

He struggled to find the words before finally settling on one. "Different."

"From the way he spoke...to the way he carried himself. It was very different from how he is today, Garrick."

A look of comprehension dawned on Garrick's face a brief moment later. "Perhaps even with how distant his father was to him, Lord Lucien might've been more affected than he showed. Goddess knows the man pays more attention to the people he rules than he does to himself."

They brought their mugs together at that, downing the rest of their ale as though by unspoken agreement.

After that, they continued exchanging stories, the topic drifting from the lord they served to the women around him. Garrick claimed it was Talia who had Lord Lucien's attention the most, while he believed it was the maid, Alicia.

Gerald, for some strange reason, believed it was the hunter, Sera, whom Lord Lucien favored, given how in tune the two were that they could communicate through body language alone.

Throughout it all, none of them mentioned anything about orcs.

When they found the barrel of ale had emptied, Garrick offered to go back and get more.

Dorian must have been more drunk than he had thought, as he agreed readily to inviting Joren and Harlon to their little drinking session.

The sky had already darkened by the time Garrick returned, the two craftsmen behind him with exhausted expressions on their faces.

As the drinking continued anew, cheers erupted from the direction of the gathering hall, and the corner of Dorian's mouth twitched at the sound.

Whether it was truly Lord Varentis's wish or not, Lord Lucien had indeed found his own path in the end.

Lord Cedric Rathenfell's hand twitched before he stilled it, forcing himself to continue writing even as Arcencia's finest wine called to him.

Despite the late hour, there was still work to be done before he could relax. While writing this letter for Lord Varentis, he couldn't help but be reminded of the important discussion they had about the wonders of wine and...coffee.

Lord Vaelric would likely be displeased to find that he had tried that dark brew and found himself strangely enjoying the occasional cup in the mornings compared to the imported alcohol the Lord of Cragwatch favored.

It was still inferior to Arcencia's finest, of course.

A knock sounded at his study door.

"Come."

Even as it swung open and the man approached, Lord Rathenfell didn't look up from his writing.

His head lifted slightly only when the man approached to bow.

At his idle wave, the man straightened. "Lord Rathenfell. Lord Vaelric's messenger arrived just now. He reports that Lord Varentis has successfully wiped out the Band of Broken Tusk today."

Lord Rathenfell's brow lifted at the phrasing. "Oh? He said Lord Varentis's name alone? No mention of his own efforts?"

The man shook his head. "No, My Lord. This is the letter the messenger carried."

Only after Lord Rathenfell gave a nod did the man set the letter down carefully at the side of his desk. He would read it later, perhaps over a drink once he was done penning this one.

With the splinter group wiped out and now the latest news of Ashridge's victory, the band that had threatened this region for so long had finally been destroyed.

It was just as well that an old friend of his was on the way over. It wouldn't do for the region to be facing an orc threat while he was here at his behest after all.

'I should include that in this letter too. And with that, my favor has been repaid...more than enough, given what I had to expend to call him over.'

A Wild Mage in the frontier...and Lord Varentis had made no mention of sending the child to the academy. He chuckled slightly at how brazen the young lord was despite his cautious demeanor.

The man cleared his throat, cutting his idle musings short.

At Lord Rathenfell's raised brow, the man shifted uneasily until a small wave gave him permission to continue.

"My Lord, there seemed to be a new type of...crossbow, and we still haven't found out anything about the windlass crossbow or how it works."

Lord Rathenfell wasn't surprised by the failure. From the brief glimpse those merchants had described, the mechanism was far more complicated than the stirrup crossbow design Lord Lucien had sent over.

"It's fine. Tell them to stop trying. There's no point taking the risk of offending our neighbor over a task with little chance of success."

The man dipped his head. "Yes, My Lord. I will let the merchants know to stop. And to begin directing caravans to the southern road, now that the orc threat is gone."

Good. This one was not as presumptuous as the last one.

Speaking of which...

"Your predecessor. Have you found him yet?" Lord Rathenfell asked, his tone lowering abruptly.

At his question, the man straightened, making an effort to remain calm. "No, My Lord. There has been no sign of him anywhere in town."

Lord Rathenfell clicked his tongue. "Hmph. I should've paid more attention to that man earlier. The guards hadn't seen him leave, right?"

"No, My Lord."

After mediating the grievances between Lord Vaelric and Lord Varentis and alleviating the refugee crisis, he had finally gained the leeway to investigate the man who had limited the sale of ores.

To his annoyance, the man had all but disappeared when he ordered his men to watch him. Given the timing, he had done so right after the meeting, which only made his previous actions all the more suspicious.

For a time, Lord Rathenfell considered the matter before he spoke. "Is there anything else?"

The man shook his head, then turned to leave at his wave.

Once the door shut with a soft click, Lord Rathenfell leaned back in his chair.

"...I don't like this. The timing's too convenient."

There was no concrete evidence, yet something ugly was brewing beneath the surface that he couldn't quite place.

Lord Rathenfell's eyes drifted to his drinking cabinet, where Arcencia's finest beckoned him. Instead of going to it, he rose from his seat to walk toward the window overlooking Helvarn.

"The frontier...perhaps Arcencia itself is changing. Then I suppose I should lay the groundwork for Lord Varentis after confirming his intentions with my own eyes again."

It was just as well that Lord Vaelric and his old friend were due to visit Ashridge. Surely Lord Varentis would not mind hosting an old noble like himself as well.

After all, they still had important business to settle, such as the matter of whose drink was best.