Chapter 2

The following day passed uneventfully, and it wasn’t until the third day of travel that they broke completely free from the steady stream of travelers, trade, and traffic in the capital region. Dense towns gave way to sparser villages, roads became dirt trails that only sometimes had markings, and large swaths of farmland became fields of tall grass. They saw fewer and fewer people as they traveled, and occasionally found themselves picking their way through a forest.

Samuel’s eyes flicked back and forth as they rode, wary of the target they presented. Two travelers on horseback and one not obviously armed weren’t the juiciest target for banditry, especially when traveling under the Guard’s colors, but he was alert all the same.

“Is this your first journey to the outlying villages?” Isobel asked.

“No, I’ve been out this way several times.”

“As part of your training?”

Samuel chuckled. “I’ve been in the Guard for six years, Sister. Training missions are a distant memory at this point.”

“Six years?”

“And the battle scars to prove it, if you’d care to examine them.”

“Your word is sufficient for now. I simply meant that you hardly look old enough to have been in the Guard for that long.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You may do so.”

“Have you spent much time on horseback, Sis— uh, Isobel? You ride quite well.”

“Enough,” Isobel replied. “There are more pleasant ways to travel, but for journeys such as this I have not yet found any that are more convenient.”

“No? I’m surprised, with your expertise.”

“How do you mean?”

“Surely there must be some magical means of getting from one place to another that would be more efficient. Why bother with the horses at all?”

“Teleportation magic is quite expensive, Samuel, and even the most experienced mages have their limits. Transporting myself across the city with the assistance of charged call stones is a fairly simple matter. Even moving a small, inanimate object over a somewhat longer distance can be done with some practice. But sending two of us to a remote village several days’ travel away with no anchor is only theoretically possible.”

“Has anyone ever tried?”

“We have heard stories of those who have attempted similar feats,” she said. “But none of them end well, either for the mage or for the person being teleported.”

“I see,” Samuel said, twisting his face. “That sounds ... unpleasant.”

“Just so,” said Isobel.

They spent their last night of travel sleeping around a camp fire in the middle of nowhere. Samuel proved himself to be an excellent wilderness cook, producing an evening meal consisting of food they’d carried with them supplemented with a bit of foraging. Isobel provided a sanctuary spell to ward off anyone or anything that came across their camp in the middle of the night, and Samuel picked out another song to sing them off to sleep.

In the morning, Samuel woke even more refreshed than he had been after sleeping in a tavern bed. Isobel had clearly either woken before him or not slept the night before, as he found her sitting cross-legged and floating about a foot above the ground, eyes closed and deep in meditation. Not wanting to disturb her, he bustled about the campsite, dousing the last of the embers and repacking their gear.

Isobel eventually came back down to earth, packing up her own bedroll and joining Samuel in preparing the horses. “We should make Harburg later today,” she said.

“That’s good news. Although I’m starting to think I’ve been spending too much time in the barracks lately. I forgot how nice sleeping outside can be.”

“I’ll be sure to request you as an escort next time I visit Harburg in the winter,” she said. Samuel couldn’t remember Isobel cracking a joke before, and he thought he could just make out the edges of a grin on the mage’s face.

As the afternoon sun beat down on them, plumes of smoke rose gently into the sky. They crested the next hill, and suddenly a small town was clearly visible in the middle distance.

“Is that Harburg?” said Samuel. “I thought you said this was a sleepy farming village.”

“It was, last time I saw it.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Last year, in the springtime.”

“They look like they’re preparing for war, not a harvest.” Wooden stockades were being erected all around the town, with towers on each corner. Wagon trains bringing freshly-cut trees rolled into town regularly.

As they rode up to the edge of town, they were stopped by two commoners with comically long spears that they could barely hold steady.

“Halt! I–in the name of Lord Erick,” one of them stuttered. “What’s your business in Harburg?”

“We are emissaries of the Queen, friends,” said Samuel gently. “Do you not recognize the colors of her Guard?”

The guard stood up straight in surprise, and the other’s eyes opened wide. “Are you the witch?” he said, looking at Isobel.

“I am n—” Isobel began sharply, until Samuel coughed. He looked at her pointedly, and she began again. “I am,” she said simply. “My name is Isobel.”

The guard turned and ran off towards the village, shouting “she’s here!” to no one in particular.

Samuel looked down at the remaining villager. He looked tired and hungry. His clothes fit poorly; the shambles of armor he was ostensibly wearing fit even worse.

“What’s your name, friend?”

“Gerald, sir.”

“Give me your hand, Gerald.” Samuel leaned down to him, and as they clasped hands, a soft orange glow grew around them. “May your hand be steady and your watch vigilant.”

Gerald’s eyes lit up, suddenly full of energy. “Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it,” Samuel said. He returned to a riding posture and clicked his tongue, urging his horse forward.

“The Queen’s Blessing? That was nice of you,” Isobel said, drawing her horse alongside his.

“Even the Guard has a few tricks up our sleeve,” he smiled. “What good is being a paladin if you can’t help people out now and again?”

“What, indeed.”

They rode the rest of the way into town together. A few heads lifted as they passed through the construction, and one man waved wearily, but quickly set back to work.

“Something is not right,” Samuel said as they passed the first few houses, all seemingly empty. “You said there were a few hundred people here, but we haven’t seen a single person who isn’t either working on the walls, harvesting lumber, or guarding the place. Where are the children? Where are the merchants? The fields are empty, and even the tavern looks closed.”

“Perhaps we will find out,” Isobel said.

They arrived at the center of the village where a larger building loomed over the small cottages and barns that otherwise made up the town. A coat of arms neither of them had seen before, featuring a red background and a crooked blue line across the middle, hung over the door. The ornamentation on the outside of the building was gaudy and seemed out of place. As they dismounted, a burly man with short blond hair emerged, followed by the guard that had met them outside the town. He greeted them with a hearty laugh.

“My friends! In the name of the Five Virtues, I welcome you to Harburg. I am Lord Erick, the mayor of this disgusting little village. Please, come inside. Take their horses, Andrew.”

“Yessir,” the guard mumbled.

“It’s always exciting to have visitors from court,” Erick said, leading them into the building. “I hope your stay will be swift and pleasant. I’m sure you have much more important business to attend to back home.”