Chapter 30 – Journey’s End / An Unexpected Visitor

Chapter 30

Journey’s End / An Unexpected Visitor

            The following morning Mary wakes me well after the sun has risen in the sky, which surprises me.  After getting ready for the day with her help, I meet my parents downstairs for a hearty breakfast which includes a dish that they call corn pudding, but it is really just grits made with milk, not that I’m going to correct the people in this world regarding the names of their dishes. 

            The inn that we had stopped at last night was called The Sword and Swallow and, for an inn out in the middle of nowhere, it is surprisingly sizable and fancy.  Last night when I asked my father why, he mentioned that the nobles from the capital like to come out to this area in order to go hunting in the plains while using inns like this to ‘rough it’.  So, in order to cater to wealthier clientele, there are a number of inns like this that surround the lands at the base of the large plateau that houses the capital city. 

            Speaking of, once we finish breakfast and head outside to where our carriages wait, to the south I can see it, the plateau.  It is massive, even from a distance.  I know that we are still a long way away from it because, while I can see shapes on top of its western half, they are too small to distinguish into proper forms, but I assume they are buildings.  From the angle I am looking at it, it appears that the city may cover over half of the plateau as well, meaning it is comparable to New York City and the surrounding suburbs, at least as far as area goes.  Considering the architecture I have seen so far in this world, I highly doubt there are any overly tall buildings, but still, to be able to tell that there are structures at this distance is impressive in my eyes.

            “Sweetie, will you please get in the carriage?”  My mother's calm voice breaks through my thoughts on the sight I have just beheld.

            “O-oh, y-y-yes.  S-sorry, Mother.” I stammer, the feeling of blood rushing to my face.

            I climb into the carriage, using the hand that Sir Ashley has held out for assistance.  My mother climbs in after me and sits down opposite me, in her usual spot, back facing the front of the carriage.  A few moments later, my father climbs in and settles down next to her, then knocks on the roof, signaling that we are ready to start moving.

            “Do you remember any of the time you have spent in Aberling, Beira?” my mother asks.

            I shake my head after a moment of reviewing the memories I have inherited from my predecessor.

            “Hmm.  That’s a shame.  You had so many good memories there, especially the times you spent with Princess Isabella.”  My mother smiles as she mentions the plucky princess who is the whole reason we are making this trip.  “Oh well, I guess that means you will just have to make more good memories on this trip to make up for what you have lost.”

            “I am l-looking forward to seeing Izzy again after she had to leave so suddenly.”  I say, pausing for a brief second before asking.  “Do you think I’ll be able to see her and Angus s-soon after arriving?”

            “Aye, lass,” my father says, chiming in.  “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised to find your prince waiting at the gates of the estate for you when we arrive, and it is likely the princess won’t let him wait alone, considering how long it has been since she has seen you.  We’ll probably arrive sometime in the middle of the afternoon.”

            My father smiles at me reassuringly before leaning over and whispering something in my mother’s ear which makes her smile and cover her mouth with her right hand while watching me. 

            Is she laughing at me?  What did I do?

            Slightly annoyed, I turn my attention away from my parents and look out the window toward the plateau, which is steadily drawing closer and getting even bigger with each passing mile.

            Looking back to my parents, I ask, “Does the p-plateau have a name?  I have only heard it referred to as ‘The Plateau’ or ‘The G-Great Plateau’.”

            My father chuckles.

            “Aberling Plateau,” he answers.  “The plateau has the same name of the city that covers most of its surface.”

            “Well t-that’s unoriginal.”  I say, a bit disappointed.

            “Aye, that it is.”  He grins at me.

            “Oh,” I sit for a moment before asking another question.  “Does that mean that the royal castle is called Aberling Castle?”

            “Aye.  Aberling Castle,” he explains.  “In fact, if you look towards the mid-western portion of the plateau, soon you should be able to see the top of Aberling Castle rising over the outer wall.”

            I look out the window, which is currently facing slightly south, affording me a good view of the plateau and what I can now see is a large wall of dark colored stone lining the western half of the plateau’s rim.  The shapes I had noticed earlier were towers that were spaced at odd intervals along the wall.  Following my father’s directions, I spot a building of white stone rising above the tall wall, its multiple spires piercing the sky and capped with sharply peaked golden roofs.  While it is still too great a distance to see much detail, I can tell that the castle is massive, as if it is trying to capture the majesty of the plateau itself. 

            Gradually, the plateau and city draw closer and by the time we stop for lunch, I can actually see a long ramp carved into the side of the plateau, leading up to the large city gates.  Where we stop for lunch is another inn, that is on the outskirts of what looks like a small town which butts up against the plateau and the ramp leading up to the city proper.  According to my father, this is just one of many suburbs that lay outside of the walls of the city proper and that all of the suburbs like this one have their own names and governing bodies.  This suburb is called Northelm and is predominately occupied by the families of the workers for the farms that we passed along the way. 

            The inn that we stop at, named The Lucky Harvest, is reflective of the people that live here.  It isn’t overly large and has a rather humble look to it.  The food itself is simple, for all appearances, but for as simple as it looks, it is very flavorful.  The Innkeeper, a portly man whose name is Henri, apparently knows who we are and greets us warmly as we come in, sitting us at what is clearly his best table.  As we eat, he personally waits on us, chatting with my father as if they are the best of friends and, with my father’s behavior and the topics of conversation, I can believe that they are.  Occasionally, he will throw a compliment toward either my mother or me, and he often comments on how much I have grown since he last saw me, though, not surprisingly, I have no memories of him.  When we finish our meal, he sees us off, telling my father that he wishes we could stay longer and to have a safe trip into the city.

            As our caravan approaches the large gates at the top of the ramp leading into the city, I can see that it is actually a series of three gates side by side.  The largest, which is where we are heading towards, has many ornate, as well as some that are gaudy, carriages heading in and out through it.  When I ask my father, he explains that the largest gate is for the nobility and tends to allow for faster travel into and out of the city due to short waits and a lack of inspections.  The second largest gate is for commercial use.  Merchants and farmers are subject to having their wagons and merchandise searched, in order to make sure they aren’t bringing illicit goods into the city.  The third and smallest gate is for pedestrian foot traffic, meaning it mostly caters to the working class.  In order to pass through it, people are required to submit identification or relevant visitor permits.

            Naturally, our caravan passes through the largest of the gates with no issues other than the soldiers guarding it saluting our carriage as it passes, something that had to do with my father’s position in the kingdom’s military.

            As we pull onto what I assume to be one of the main thoroughfares, we turn toward the west, the direction that Aberling Castle lies in.  The wide road we are on has crowds of people to either side as well as a large number of wagons and carriages, though it has nothing on NYC traffic.  The buildings on both sides of the road are a lot taller than I expected, with some of them climbing upwards to seven floors.  I honestly wasn't expecting anything over three floors considering the tallest building I have seen in this world before now is only three floors high.  Even Braemar Keep only has three main floors, if you don’t count the three towers that climb to five.  The architectural aesthetic in the city reminds me of Paris from the one time I went there at the age of twelve with my parents from my life as Michael. 

            I wonder if this city has a huge wealth of art culture like Paris does.

            “This looks like a city that would thrive on art and creativity,” I say, expressing my inner thoughts as I stare with what I hope looks like wide eyed wonder out the window.  Part of me feels like I’m overplaying it, but I really am interested.  The art was one of my main takeaways from that Paris trip and if this city has galleries like Paris, maybe I can convince Angus to take me to see them.  And best of all, viewing art can be incredibly romantic so, maybe we can grow closer.

            I smile as images begin to fill my head of snugging up with Angus as we slowly walk around the Louvre until my feet start to hurt so we find a nice place to sit in front of the statue, Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.  I rest my head on his broad shoulder, feeling the strength of his muscles.  He turns his head towards where mine rests.  He looks down at me as I look up at him.  Our eyes meet as sparks fly between us, drawing our lips closer.

            “-ra.”

            Huh?

            I feel someone gently shaking my shoulder.

            “Beira, sweetie.  We’re here,” says a voice that sounds like my mother.

            “Wha?” I mumble, blinking my eyes slowly before rubbing them gently and yawning.  

            “We have arrived at our estate while you were dozing off,”  my mother says, smiling as if she knows exactly what I was just dreaming about, which is kind of a mortifying thought and causes my brain to snap awake.  “Also, you have visitors, one of whom is rather unexpected.”

            I look out the window and see Angus leaning against a pillar like he is trying to act cool.  He is almost as I had pictured him in my head, based on the outlines provided by him when he was aiding me in seeing the world around me.  His hair is redder than I expected, almost making it appear as if his head is on fire.  His skin is a bit darker than I expected, likely due to spending a lot of time outside training, something that is obvious with the way his muscles move under his clothing.  His eyes are a light blue, but not in a way that would imply coldness, no, they are filled with a fiery warmth, like a flame fueled by natural gas.  He is wearing a suit made from a dark green cloth with golden trim.  The suit has crisp clean lines, as if it were freshly pressed.

            Beside him, a certain pink-haired princess is practically bursting with energy as she bounces in place, clearly trying to restrain herself.  Her pale lavender eyes are filled with excitement as she constantly fidgets with her petite hands, as if needing them to be doing something, anything, as long as it involves movement.  When it appears as if she is literally going to start bouncing, her older brother reaches over and places a hand on top of her head, causing her to temporarily calm by a slight amount.  Her dress, a pale blue with white ribbons, looks as though it has been the main victim of all her fidgety movement, as its skirt is the bearer of many wrinkles and unintended creases. 

            Izzy spots me watching her from the window of the carriage and waves enthusiastically, the period of calm initiated by her brother destroyed.  I smile and wave back, which causes her to pause for a split second before turning to her brother and yelling at him before trying to hit him.  He laughs and holds her at arm’s length until she tires herself out for the moment.  With Izzy placated, his attention turns back to the carriage and his eyes zero in on me, causing heat to rise to my face as I smile softly and give a shy wave. 

            God, he is so good looking, it should be criminal.

            In the back of my mind, I hear a snicker followed by a loud pop and Ygg’s voice, “Pay attention and stop grinning like an idiot, Damian.”

            I giggle a little on the inside before turning my attention to the third person with the prince and the princess.  She is a few inches taller than Izzy, who is only an inch shorter than me, but nowhere near as tall as Angus.  She has black hair, so black that it almost seems to eat the light around it.  Her skin is pale and, when combined with her hair, almost gives her a deathlike appearance.  Her eyes, which are set behind a pair of glasses, are a deep shade of purple as they focus on the book held up in front of her.  She is wearing a dress that is a dark midnight blue with black accents, almost giving it a funerary look.  Her eyes flick up as our carriage comes to a stop and she places a bookmark in her book, lowering the hand holding it to her side with a sigh.