Arestes
It was ten days before they reached something that could warrant being called civilization. Kaden had borrowed the Warden's horse, much to the chagrin of the Warden, and rode ahead of the group.
The caravan, much as he'd intuited, had not fit through The Cove. And he thought his friend was a bit dim for even trying it. He'd always had the better spatial awareness of the two of them. There hadn't been much of a point to argue about it though. As soon as they'd arrived at the small hidden path it became clear there was no chance they were getting through with the caravan.
Kaden argued that they'd be able to use Seralyse's hatchets to cut down a few of the trees and widen the path but both he and the Warden had laughed. Sure, they could manage exactly that, but only if they wanted to spend weeks on it.
Arestes tried to placate his obvious annoyance, although he figured the Kin would have done a better job had she just cuddled up close to him instead. He couldn't tell if something was there or not. There seemed to be moments where they'd exchange a look or a smile and they'd both blush. But there were just as many moments where the relationship felt completely professional.
The Warden kept his distance, more or less. He stayed a few feet behind the caravan for most of their travel time and sat away from them during their limited meals. Kaden ignored him, and then stole his horse.
Wyckham fumed about that but Alisen seemed to think it was one of the funniest things she'd ever encountered and took a great deal of pleasure in needling him about it. When Kaden returned as they'd camped for an evening he thought they'd fight about it. But the Warden had caved and instead focused his attention on Julius. He grudgingly had to admit that the beast had been well cared for.
Kaden ignored the compliment, if it even was one, and told the group he'd found a path out of the forest and toward a town. It was only a couple of days out of the way. Arestes had known Kaden long enough to trust his judgment, but it led to some arguing from the rest of the group.
His friend didn't take it well.
He'd pushed the warhorse much harder than they were willing to push the caravan horses. So it took two days longer than he's said. But he'd been right. There was an overgrown trail leading out of the woods. And, at the end of it, a small dusty town.
It wasn't the larger town of Morak. In fact, Arestes couldn't see any sign of the larger settlement. Which only made him wonder how far out of the way they'd wandered. Although, in the grand scheme of things, he supposed it couldn't have been more than a week, given that was all the time that had passed. And it wasn't like they were in some hurry trying to get the Kin girl back to Bazaar.
He'd freely admit he hadn't listened too closely to any of the conversations she'd had with Kaden about the specific details of their mission. As far as he was concerned, all he needed to know was the amount of gold he'd be getting once it was over.
Granted, she didn't have near that amount on her while they traveled. But that wasn't too surprising. As why would one want to travel with a small fortune. Especially when you never knew if a rogue lord would arrest you under false pretenses and steal all of it.
Sure, they'd recovered most of it. But not all. Kaden seemed to think she'd be able to pay them. And that was good enough for him. His friend hadn't steered them wrong yet. And, frankly, if Kaden felt like they were being stiffed, he'd find a way to rectify the situation. It was funny how much more money people seemed to have when their valuables went missing. Or how much said valuables could be worth.
And Kaden was quite good at finding those missing valuables when push came to shove. The less Arestes knew about it, the better he figured it was.
He knew his friend wanted to see all of the major kingdoms. But Kinland never seemed high on his priority list. Especially given that it led through Calabar. And he never seemed very interested in anything that put him in Calabar for more than a day or two. Even their occasional missions up the coast with Captain Torres left him agitated.
Arestes preferred the warmer climes of the Kingdom of Lorak but he had no real issue with anything in Calabar as long as they avoided it in Winter. And given that Captain Torres shared his opinion on weather, they rarely had to venture north during the colder months.
Kaden always seemed more interested in going to Volkar anyway. Captain Torres hated braving those waters and the creatures that swam around the Scar. Kaden always volunteered to join or lead the more dangerous, and likely more profitable, excursions that way. But it was very rare that Torres agreed to such trips. And he never let Kaden lead one. He suspected their Captain was worried that he'd stay in Volkar.
Arestes didn't understand his friend's fascination with the Albino witches. They clearly looked down on everyone else. And their magic was, frankly, creepy. As the living corpse traveling with them could attest to. They may as well be vermin every time they were in a Volkarian port. But that never prevented Kaden from actively trying to return there.
He assumed it was the women. But he'd only ever taken up with one Volkarian. And he'd refused to talk about it after. Which Arestes respected. But still it made for some awkward chiding. He'd never refused to talk about any of the women he'd had in Lorak. Neither of them did. But he was completely mum on the Volkar.
Hell, he could barely bring himself to even look at the Witch with them. And he never called her by her name when they had to converse. Alisen was strange, even to Arestes who had long since learned most people didn't think like him. Which largely meant they didn't spend most of their time in their own head trying to think of better ways to do everything. But she was personable.
She'd offer to help. She took over most of the cleaning duties and, after some supervision, even some of the cooking. The Warden never let her alone with the food for reasons Arestes didn't understand.
He'd heard some arguing about some herbs she'd supposedly used in the past. It seemed like an odd reason to prevent her from cooking. As she didn't seem very interested in using them again. But the Warden still refused. She took it in stride.
Still, she did tend to lean toward Kaden. Or sit near him. Or stare at him. Arestes didn't pay any attention to such things. Which meant that since he noticed it, it must have been even more prevalent than he realized. It was enough to often send Kaden away from their campsite. She'd watch him go, but never follow.
He could understand why his friend found it so obnoxious. But it all seemed oddly innocent to him. Almost as if the witch had a crush. He had a hard time imagining someone that could easily be a century older than them, given that Volkar aged differently, would have such an issue expressing feelings if that was the case. But to each their own.
It didn't prevent Kaden from distancing himself from her. Which was why his friend was such a better person than him. He had to admit, even in their cramped living situation at the moment, he'd have probably found a way to use the Volkar's interest to his advantage, had the situations been reversed.
Either way, the entire group was thrilled to emerge from the forest and continue the march toward something that at least had the chance of offering a warm bed. Maybe the Volkar would have some interest in joining him if Kaden shot her down.
It took them a few minutes to find a suitable path down toward the village. It was mostly grown over and rather dusty but the horses seemed to appreciate it as they sauntered toward the village.
It was perhaps a disservice to the term village to call this settlement as such. But there they were. And it wasn't like they had much of a choice. They were almost to the village by the point that the Warden realized the ghoul was still driving the carriage. And that it would probably be best to present a better front than that as a first impression.
Some arguing ensued by the group had to admit the Siren and the Warden made the most sense. The Warden's armor was unmistakable and a Siren would provide some entertainment for the village just by being a rarity. Kaden grumbled about it but hauled the ghoul inside.
Arestes ignored the hubbub around him and focused on tinkering. He was trying to come up with a better, more durable version of the multi-key he'd designed to get out of Lord Millwood's cells. But he wasn't having much luck. Although he suspected his luck had far more to do with the quality of available materials than anything else.
It wasn't until the arguing outside grew to a loud enough level that he figured he should investigate. Even if just to prevent Kaden from stabbing one of their traveling companions. Or helping him stab another, if need be.
"What's going on?" he asked as he hopped down the back of the caravan and into the dusty streets. The ghoul made to follow him but he slammed the door in its face.
"They don't have a stage," Seralyse said, gesturing vaguely behind her with her arms.
"Do you need one?" he asked. She frowned.
"Well not really. But I do better work with one," she answered.
"You can always just not perform," Kaden said. "We need supplies anyway. And it's not like we have to stay here long."
"I'd rather sleep in a bed tonight," Wyckham said. He was hitching Julius near the other horses. He spent a few moments brushing the beast off.
"If we can even find enough. The inn has maybe two," Kaden scoffed.
"We need the money," Seralyse countered.
"Does this look like a town that's going to make you rich?" Kaden asked.
"One town doesn't make anyone rich," she countered. "But it helps."
"Did the owner even say you could perform?" Arestes asked.
"He grunted and gestured to the corner of the room. So I took it as consent," she said.
"I don't think there will be much of a crowd," Alisen countered. She peered down the street. The village was little more than a loose collection of ramshackle buildings centered around a tavern. Arestes disagreed to an extent.
He suspected everyone in the village probably visited the tavern nearly daily. As there seemed to be little else to do. But he doubted she'd make enough coins to warrant her presence there.
Seralsye peered up toward the setting sun and then looked back to the caravan. Her expression made it quite clear that her mind was already made up.
"I should start getting ready. Can you help me with the Tattoo?" she asked, looking toward Kaden.
"I can," Alisen smiled. Seralyse shifted away from the Volkar.
"Kaden knows how to do it," Seralyse shot back. "You should go with Wyckham and find supplies. You need more clothing. I'm not sharing any more."
"Fine," Alisen pouted as Seralyse pulled Kaden back into the Caravan. Arestes heard some minor condemning of the ghoul before the door slammed shut once more. Arestes turned his attention to the warden.
"Do you want supplies or the Witch?" he asked. Wyckham peered between both of them and took a step away from Alisen.
"I'll gather the supplies. You can see if this town has anything she can actually wear," Wyckham said before stalking off. Arestes peered toward Alisen, who shrugged her shoulders and started off in the opposite direction. He followed her, figuring she'd likely need more protection from various townspeople than the Warden. Or, more accurately, they may need protection from her if anything got out of hand.
As it turned out, nothing did. And there wasn't a whole lot of selection when it came to women's clothing. But she found some basic roughspun garb that would at least serve better than her rotted motley.
People were filtering into the tavern when they'd returned. They heard some smattering of talk about a Siren and Alisen drew many glances as they entered as people no doubt assumed she was the singer in question.
He saw Wyckham talking to the tavern keeper and sauntered over toward his new friend.
"You have to have hot food. What's the point of the tavern if you don't?" Wyckham argued with the rather bored looking tavern keeper.
"We have ale," the man said in a tone that indicated he'd repeated this phrase many times.
"And Siren Seralyse will appreciate that after her performance. But she also has to eat," Wyckham argued.
"We have ale," the man answered.
"And no one in this town eats?" Wyckham sighed.
"Oreton is not famous for its food," the man said.
"Oreton?" Arestes blinked. He'd heard of the old mining town. He'd thought it abandoned for at least two centuries after the mines ran dry.
"What's left of it," the man said. He peered over toward the doorway as the rest of their trio ended. Kaden gestured for the Volkar to move toward a secluded table in the corner of the room. The opposite corner had been cleared off for the performance. Seralyse, dressed in a plain brown robe, took a couple of the instruments over toward the corner and started to set her things up as Alisen claimed the table.
Kaden watched Seralyse for a moment before joining them at the small bar.
"Did you know we're in Oreton?" Arestes asked.
"Wasn't that city abandoned like three centuries ago?"
"Yes," the tavern keeper said.
"Well then," Kaden shrugged his shoulders. "I thought it was further from Morak."
"Not much on geography, are you?" Wyckham snapped.
"Must not be," Kaden said with a shrug of his shoulders. Arestes knew the expression well enough. Kaden loved to study maps, he almost certainly knew where they were better than anyone else. But he saw no need in arguing with the Warden. "What's for dinner?"
"Ale," the barman said.
"With say, a side of bread?" Kaden asked. "Songstress Seralyse prefers a dark wine to ale."
"We have ale," the man answered.
"And five of those will do just fine to start," Kaden answered cheerily. "But some nice warm grub, another round of ales, and a nice red will serve far better after the performance."
"We. Have. Ale."
"Yes, and we'll have five," Kaden said. He tossed a small brown pouch onto the counter. It landed with an audible thunk and he turned to join the Volkar. The barkeep's eyes widened as he resisted the urge to grab it immediately. Instead he waited until Arestes and Wyckham joined their companions. Kaden sat as far away from the Witch as he was able to at the small table.
It only took a couple of minutes for the ales to arrive. The man stammered something but Kaden waved the man away as other patrons started to filter into the bar. News of the ensuing performance had obviously traveled around the town.
Granted, they'd done their own part, talking about it while out shopping. He was surprised that it worked. But it didn't seem like they had a whole lot of entertainment options.
"Should you be that generous?" Wyckham asked.
"I wouldn't think an Abruzzi would care that much about money," Kaden countered.
"We have a limited supply of it and a long journey ahead," Wyckham said.
"I'm sorry, are there gates near Bazaar?" Kaden asked.
"I'm seeing this through, pirate," Wyckham answered, the emphasis on the last word. It was enough to earn a few looks from the nearby patrons. And enough to tell them to be on their guard.
But there was enough conviction in his voice that even Kaden merely raised his brows. Arestes thought for sure his friend was going to needle him once more about the calling but instead he took a sip of the ale, made a face that gave Arestes a solid enough indication of its quality, and shook his head.
"Which gate were you assigned to?" he asked. Wyckham raised his brows and sampled his own ale. His expression didn't change nearly as readily as Kaden. Which likely said something about his palate as the Wardens were supposed to know how to make a proper ale.
"Tychus," he answered. Kaden's gaze shifted to the southeast and he nodded.
"Not appealing I take it?"
"I picked it," Wyckham said, his eyes narrowing as Kaden peered in the general direction of the Gate. "We were ambushed. I was the only survivor."
"The Gate fell?" Arestes felt his stomach drop as soon as Kaden said it. But it couldn't be true. The entire continent would know if one of the Gates had fallen.
"No," Wyckhkam clarified. "We were ambushed not far from Zuzu. I stayed with Lord Millwood to try to recoup some supplies for the trip."
It sounded reasonable to Arestes. It wasn't much different than they were doing now. And he could only imagine what the ambush must have been like. And how many friends the Warden buried. It only made sense he'd feel lost after that tragedy.
The show started before they had time to converse any further. Alisen shifted her chair and leaned toward the music as Seralyse used a hand drum to start a beat in the tavern. Back in Pelican's Rest the crowd had joined in, slapping tables in time with her drumming and allowing her to focus on the song.
Here she had no such participation.
She'd chosen a pink and bronze ensemble. Small bits of the golden metal shimmered on the fringes of the costume, flashing in the candlelight as she spun around with the drum. Her tail kept time every bit as well as the drum.
Her eyes were closed as she let her voice rise into song. In the other performances he'd watched she'd started with a Lorakian ballad about a mermaid who faked being in love with a sailor so she could eat his heart.
Here she picked a different tune. He recognized it immediately. His eyes flashing to Kaden as soon as he did. His friend was paying far more attention to his ale than he was the performance.
Which Arestes had to admit was a complete shame. The way she gyrated while she moved, coupled with the way the costume seemed to flow around her, was definitely worth looking at. There always managed to be the allure that something would slip, that something would be revealed, that something about the show would become incredibly personal.
He knew better, of course. But his intelligent mind was often waylaid by some of his baser instincts. Something that his friend never seemed to succumb to in the same way he did.
Now, as Seralyse sang a ballad about the early days of the Balmon Royal Family, his friend seemed utterly disinterested. Which, given that most Calabarians had some sort of reaction to their rulers, seemed a little odd. But Kaden never showed any emotion for it. He wondered if there was really anything of Calabar left in his friend. Or, if by now, he was more Lorakian than anything else.
Either way he let the timber of the Kin's voice soothe him into a lull as the song continued through the battle that would shape the continent for the centuries that followed.
As a boy, he'd always wished he'd been one of the many Lorakian soldiers who'd aided the Balmon's in their greatest triumph. As an adult, he knew enough of conflict to know that there wasn't anything noble in those stained fields as friends fought for survival for a cause so far beyond their means as to make their struggle feel irrelevant.
He wondered if seeing the futility of it all made him more intelligent than those who'd died on the fields. Or if it was just another step toward making him every bit as jaded as his friend. They'd never talked about such trivial things as childhood fantasies. But he suspected almost every Calabarian boy dreamed of being on those fields, fighting for the rise of the Kingdom of the Setting Sun.
Every boy must have dreamed that they were the ones who held up the arm of the youngest Balmon King, Daron the First, as the crowd erupted. They had to have assumed that nothing but an era of peace could follow. And for a couple of generations they were right. Until the King's great grandson decided it was time to subdue the Volkar.
He doubted Seralyse would sing about that part of Calabarian history. Hell, he wasn't even sure there were songs about the Scarring. It was a topic of history best kept in the past. It had taken centuries for peace to return. And even then it had been more out of necessity than any Volkarian interest in accepting Calabarians.
She shifted into a love song after. It was generic, and not the far more bawdy version he was used to hearing in such establishments. But her voice carried well and her seamless switch to one of the stringed instruments worked well enough.
She settled down for the song, incorporating far less of her body into the music. He wondered if it was by design, as it had a more somber tone in general, or merely a way for her to catch her breath after the more energetic opening. He supposed it could have easily been both.
Arestes took the time to peer around the tavern. He'd never looked much at the crowd during a performance. He'd have guessed only a third of them were paying any attention to the girl. Most were conversing in their own little groups. Wyckham and Alisen were both watching intently. Of course, it was the first time either of them had a chance to see her perform.
Alisen, for her part, was nodding along with the music and looked utterly entranced. Wyckham looked ready to criticize any minute detail he found the slightest bit off. He hoped the Warden wasn't dumb enough to actually do that.
She sang for about an hour. Alternating through a handful of popular songs from both Calabar and Lorak. The crowd never seemed quite as interested in her as they had back at The Rusty Door or even in Zuzu.
The ale continued to flow and after a few bawdier ballads and the mood in the tavern shifted. Arestes never thought much about the importance of a stage as a barrier. Afterall it was little more than a hop and you were at the performer anyway.
But now he saw a group of rowdy young men start to encroach closer to Seralyse as she sang. A few risque comments filtered out in response to her lyrics. She largely ignored them and continued singing the popular tavern songs. And then one swiped at her tail. She avoided it with a glare and scampered a few feet away but the group of men laughed and encircled her.
There were some quips about how the singing was enough. And that they'd find a much better use for her for the next few hours. One commenting openly that he's always wanted to fuck a Kin and a Siren, and here they could do two for one! She tried to slip away while still performing but they continued toward her.
"You going to do anything about that, Warden?" Kaden asked as he took a sip of his second ale.
"You're the leader," Wyckham shot back. "You deal with it."
"I am dealing with it," Kaden said. Wyckham's eyes narrowed and he looked ready to argue before Kaden added. "And you're wearing armor. I am not."
"Fine," he said. Arestes watched as the Warden stood and made his way to the patrons harassing Seralyse. He walked up behind them and said something that Arestes couldn't hear over the song. One made a snide comment as he turned to face them but the color drained out of his face as he saw the Warden's glowing armor. A second wasn't as sharp and threw a punch. Wyckham dropped him with one quick jab to the throat. He spun around toward the others and in only a matter of moments was hauling the group of them out of the tavern. Arestes couldn't help but nod his approval at how efficient he'd been. Warden training was far from a joke.
"Well done," Kaden said as Seralyse continued to perform. The Warden merely nodded and took another sip of ale as he returned to his seat.
Seralyse only performed two more songs after that. She finished to a smattering of applause, the loudest from Alisen. She thanked them for allowing her to perform, bowed to the crowd before redonning her brown robe and joining them at the table. She looked visibly saddened by the reaction. Especially as the tips hadn't flown in during the performance.
Which felt unfair to Arestes. She'd done a good job, likely far better than Oreton would see for years. But they simply weren't interested in it as a whole. Her ears drooped as she pulled a chair up to their small table.
The barkeep showed up a few moments later with their third round of ale and a dusty bottle of red wine. He poured Seralyse a glass before wandering off. He returned moments later with a large bowl of chicken stew. He placed it on the middle of the table and took some smaller terracotta bowls out and served a generous helping to Seralyse. He let the others fend for themselves. She poked at the food with a spoon while Alisen passed the bowl around.
"That was wonderful," the Volkar said. Her cheery tone did little to sooth the Kin.
"The crowd was bored," Seralyse answered.
"They weren't interested," Wyckham said. His tone indicated he meant to be sympathetic, but it earned him a glare and he shut his mouth.
"It's my job to make them interested," Seralyse added. She sniffed at the wine before taking a sip. She winced against the taste. "This juice is spoiled."
"It's wine," Kaden answered. Arestes could have sworn she'd talked about liking wine before, but as she peered at the glass he wondered if she'd been fibbing.
"Oh," Seralyse said. She sniffed at it once more but took a few bites of food before risking it again. She winced as she swallowed.
"I don't think playing as many Calabarian songs was the best idea," Kaden said after a few moments of silence.
"Why not?" Seralyse countered. "We're in Calabar, aren't we?"
"A forgotten part of Calabar. I doubt anyone here cares what King Marek the Moron is doing. And songs of grand Balmon victories just remind them of the ancestors who died for reasons they'll never understand."
"That's treasonous," Wyckham said.
"The bigger towns all liked that order," Seralyse said.
"Prosperous towns don't tend to hate their leaders," Kaden said.
"Well how am I supposed to know that?" Seralyse scoffed.
"From what I've seen so far I can't imagine anyone likes Marek the Moron very much. I'd suggest limiting yourself to maybe the Ballad of the Setting Son and avoiding anything else pro Calabarian," Kaden said.
"You shouldn't talk about the King like that," Wyckham said.
"Was that the one about the turtles?" Alisen asked. "I liked the one about the turtles."
"There was one about turtles?" Kaden blinked.
"There's a line about sea turtles in Wayward Lover," Seralyse said.
"Then by all means sing about the turtles," Kaden said.
"What if I sing about the Young Prince?" Seralyse asked.
"I didn't know there were any songs about Daron the Dumb," Kaden answered. The quip caught Arestes mid sip and he had to cough the ale out of his throat. Wyckham again glared at Kaden, looking almost ready to snap at him but it was Seralyse who answered.
"Daron the Dutiful," she corrected.
"Daron the Dumb," Kaden agreed.
"Don't talk about the Royal Family like that," Wyckham scoffed.
"You're supposed to be impartial, Warden. No need to defend the royals," Kaden laughed.
"They've earned the right to your respect," Wyckham answered.
"By doing what? Letting me starve in the streets?" Kaden laughed. "Next thing you'll tell me is that daddy hasn't killed more Calabarians than he's helped."
"My father is an honorable man," Wyckham shot back.
"I'm sure. Every bit as honorable as Gareth the Gross, Marek the Moron and Daron the Dumb," Kaden laughed, holding up his ale in a salute to the royal family. Arestes chuckled and did the same, clinking cups with his friend, drawing a bigger smile out of the man.
"Don't call him that," Seralyse hissed.
"Why do you care?" Kaden asked. Arestes turned his gaze from his friend and to the Kin girl. While the Warden was flushed with annoyance at this insult to his father. The girl was absolutely shaking with rage. Which, given she'd nearly been assaulted and was now thrown directly into an argument didn't surprise him. He couldn't have said he'd fare any better in the same situation.
"The Kin like Prince Daron," she said with a note of command in her voice. She took a sip of the wine to steady herself before continuing. "He agreed to wed Mazara Annalise Verperon and start a new era of positive relations between Calabar and the Kin. His death was a noble tragedy that hurt Kin society."
"He ran into a burning building," Kaden laughed as if the notion of that being noble was some absurdist garbage.
"Trying to save people!" Seralyse said.
"Being incredibly dumb," Kaden countered. "Hence Daron the Dumb."
"His sacrifice would make a good song," Arestes said. Kaden rolled his eyes at his friend but shut his mouth.
"Assuming Princess Amelia retold the events correctly. She was a child," Wyckham said.
"Is she the burned one?" Alisen asked.
"Yes," the rest of the table answered at once.
"Oh," Alisen said. "I have trouble keeping them straight."
"She lost her sight in the fire," Wyckham answered. The fire he referenced was well known. Most referred to it as the Tragedy of Katia Hall. The Balmon Royal Family had gathered at one of the estate houses for Prince Daron's birthday, just a few months after the death of Prince Gareth during the Tournament for the Betrothal.
A lightning strike set the building on fire. Or at least that was the best explanation anyone could come up with. Princess Amelia claimed Prince Daron found her in her bedroom and carried her out of the building before rushing back in to try to find more people to save.
He never emerged.
The Princess suffered burns over half of her body and lost her sight to the flames. When the fires were finally put out early the next morning only she and Prince Marek were left of the Balmon family.
The Prince hadn't been there that evening. His birthday present to his younger brother, a sword similar to the ones he and Prince Gareth carried, hadn't been finished in time so he'd ridden up the next morning to join the celebration. Supposedly he'd collapsed to his knees and wept openly at the sight of the burned out Hall. He'd been crowned as he cried over his lost family.
The locals still avoided the place, claiming it was haunted. Arestes doubted that. Although there were rumors of some Wardens investigating and vanishing. He assumed they stayed away largely because there was nothing left of value there. But there were the rumors that servants had been locked in the basements and left to die and their vengeful spirits killed any who dare approach.
A good story, he thought, for keeping frightened children away from collapsable ruins. And one that he thought would make for an excellent song in the right hands. So if Seralyse wanted to take a crack at it, more power to her.
"I think I saw her once," Alisen said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"When?" Wyckham answered.
"The Tournament," Alisen said. "That's when I crossed the Scar. Been here ever since."
"Sometimes it seems like all of Calabar was there," Wyckham sighed.
"And yet I'd only believe one person at this table if they made that claim," Kaden said.
"Who?" Wyckham asked, his brows furrowing. It was clear he'd accepted the Witch at face value.
"You," Kaden rolled his eyes. "Like the son of a Count didn't make it to the Tournament?"
"Oh, yeah," Wyckham said, letting his voice trail off as he spoke. "I was there."
"It was fun," Alisen smiled, clearly not picking up on her companions mood. "I did magic tricks for some kids. They loved it."
"I think I remember that," Wyckham said, his brows narrowing. "At least I remember some Volkar doing tricks. Hard to believe that was you."
"Well I don't remember you," Alisen shrugged. "But I suppose you were what, like a foot smaller?" She held up her hands above her head as if trying to measure him before shrugging her shoulders once more.
"Something like that," Wyckham shook his head.
"Were you there?" Alisen asked no one in particular as she peered around the table. Arestes didn't answer and Seralyse continued to make faces at her wine.
"I'm not as fancy as Lord Abruzzi over here," Kaden said after a moment of silence.
"Why not?" Alisen asked.
"Wrong parents," Kaden answered.
"Well that was stupid of you," Alisen said. Kaden snorted.
"Yes. Quite dumb of me," he laughed.
"Anyone else?" she asked. No one answered her. She frowned and went back to poking at the stew with her spoon. Arestes saw her eat very little of it. But she didn't eat a whole lot anyway.
They finished eating. The crowd in the tavern wasn't dispersing. Most of them were staring at their little group. It was starting to make Arestes uncomfortable. Although he didn't see any weapons or armaments on any of them. That didn't mean they couldn't overpower the group with sheer numbers. Although if the Witch and the Warden could be convinced to work together there was a very good chance that would be all they'd need.
He'd heard stories about feats of magic Wardens and more talented Volkar spellcasters had been able to perform when defending the gates. He suspected the two of them could level all of Oreton if they wished. Although it would involve a certain amount of synergy that he was having trouble seeing the two of them pull off.
"Can I get you anything else?" the man asked. His tone wasn't as accommodating as his words.
"Do you have any desserts?" Seralyse asked. The man stared at her as if he couldn't believe her question. But then again, she hadn't been present for his description of their menu that evening.
"I might have some lemon bread in the back," he said.
"Pass," Seralyse answered almost before he finished the sentence.
"Then no," he said.
"Well then," Seralyse pouted. The man stared at her for a moment. As if not quite sure what to think of the obvious diva before him. Arestes suppressed a chuckle. He wondered, and not for the first time, just how she'd managed to make her way so far south alone. There were moments when he wasn't even sure she realized what planet she was on. But underneath it all there was an earnestness he was growing to appreciate.
"How much will it be for beds for the night?" Wyckham asked.
"And a bath," Seralyse said before he could answer.
"I run a tavern, not an inn," the man said. This time Wyckham took a page from Kaden's book and placed a handful of golden coins down on the table.
"Look, that's great and all. But I don't have the facilities for you all to bathe without taking you to my home. Which I'm not going to do. And I only have three beds upstairs in rooms that haven't seen human habitants in years. And I don't want to spend all night here making sure you don't take anything," the man argued. "I think it's best if you go on your way."
"We've been traveling constantly for days. You have my word as a Warden that you will find nothing out of place in the morning," Wyckham said. He made a point to look around the tavern. It was still more than half full, giving little weight to the man's words that they should be heading on their way.
"Fine," he said. He nodded toward a rickety looking staircase in the back leading up to a lofted upstairs. He stalked away from their table and toward some of the other patrons. Arestes recognized the routine. He'd seen it in countless taverns across the continent. He talked with a few of the regulars for a few minutes before starting to collect the tabs from everyone there.
Kaden actually stood about halfway through the man's routine and picked up the dirty dishes and walked them over toward the bar. He found a towel and started scrubbing away at them. The barkeep noticed, raised his brows, but said nothing.
He even started helping out as the man brought other soiled mugs back toward the counter.
"Why is he doing that?" Alisen asked.
"He's bad at being idle," Arestes said.
"So?"
"So he's probably just bored. He likes to be doing something. Whether it's arguing with his friends, reading, or cleaning dishes. And it's a show of good faith to the owner," Arestes shrugged.
"I assumed his perpetual motion was just jitters. It's not uncommon with the newer recruits at the Warden's citadel," Wyckham said. "Are you saying his whole argument with me is to appease his boredom?"
"A bit of it, yeah," Arestes answered.
"That is so stupid," Wyckham said. "If the wrong person hears him disparage the King like that it could end very poorly for him."
"Maybe," Arestes shrugged. He suspected if a King was so worried about a moderately disparaging nickname then he wasn't worth much as a King. And he'd seen Kaden argue his way out of worse situations.
It just felt to him like there were so many more things one could worry about in a Kingdom that a nickname should be so far below anything else. Even their brief adventure into Calabar showed there were clearly things that he felt a ruler should be able to fix, if they were so inclined. But again, he couldn't claim to be an expert on running a Kingdom.
What he did know, and what was clear from even just walking down the streets of Zuzu and the streets of Pelican's Rest, was that whatever the Lorakians were doing was clearly having a greater effect on the people there than whatever King Marek was doing in Calabar.
He didn't; however, see much of a point in arguing that with the Warden. Even if he knew Wardens were supposed to be impartial. They gave up their interest in politics for an oath to protect the people of Kinland, Calabar, Lorak and Volkar. There was no sense in allowing them to foster strife because of something as trivial as where they were born. At the Gates, that little detail didn't matter. Every Warden swore to stay out of any of it. The world was nothing but Wardens, monstrosities, and those they needed to protect.
It was a simplistic world view. But Arestes had to admit there was something poetic about it. Especially if it worked out as they intended. He doubted it did, though. If he had to bet, he'd have taken the side that there were many political arguments on cold nights at the Gates with little else to do.
And given that one of the highest ranking Warden positions was an advisor to the royal family, he doubted they were incapable of bias.
At some point Alisen joined Kaden and the barman and helped dry the dishes. She drew glances from the owner. Calabarians were always at least a little skeptical of Volkar in their midst.
Alisen merely dried the dishes handed to her with a grimy towel, giggling with excitement as she did so, as if she'd never done such a mundane task before.
Wyckham grew bored of sitting and started to pace around the tavern, straightening chairs and tables and rearranging the room to match how it was before they'd made room for Seralyse to perform.
Arestes saw no reason to bother helping. Instead he watched the Siren as she watched Kaden. She was rather obvious, he thought. And it didn't help that her tail twitched when she looked at him. But his friend seemed to either have no clue, or was purposefully ignoring her. Either were realistic options.
Once they'd finished the owner stammered a thank you and left the tavern. They returned to the table for a few minutes but there was little to talk about and the length of the last few days, along with having a relatively full stomach, was starting to get to all of them.
Seralyse broke first, with a large yawn she barely managed to stifle. She flushed in embarrassment, no doubt assuming a proper Siren would never show such a weakness, even among her friends.
"Perhaps we should see if there are actually beds upstairs," Wyckham said. He rose once more and moved to the rickety staircase. He took a few careful steps up. Arestes assumed checking if the weight of his armor would hold on the stairs. But they did, with nary a creak, and the group moved up to the loft.
There were two rooms upstairs, separated by little more than a basic partition. One of the rooms didn't even have a door. And the man had been right, there were only three small beds. Seralyse shifted until she was next to Kaden, and peered up at him, before turning her gaze to the cleaner looking one.
The five of them stared for a few moments. Arestes was about ready to suggest a game of some type to settle who would be allowed such lavish comforts when the Witch spoke.
"So who's doubling up?" she asked, with a pointed look at Kaden and Seralyse. Seralyse stammered something unintelligible.
"I'll sleep in the caravan," Kaden said. Arestes opened his mouth to argue, but quickly realized he was exhausted and would much rather sleep in a bed than with the ghoul.
"What? No. You don't have to do that," Seralyse said.
"It's fine," Kaden said. "Someone should watch it. Even if just to make sure Shambles doesn't eat any wandering drunks."
"Shambles doesn't eat people," Alisen defended her pet. Arestes had a feeling one of Lord Millwood's guards would disagree with her.
"Does he even eat?" Wyckham asked.
"Sort of," Alisen answered. Wyckham nodded. He looked like he wanted to comment but figured it was best if he didn't know the actual answer.
"Still, last time we left the caravan for this long we were arrested. May as well keep a closer eye on it," Kaden said with a pointed glare at the Warden. He turned to move down the stairs and back out of the tavern without further comment. Seralyse shifted and, for a moment, Arestes thought she may follow him.
"Well I want this one then," Alisen said, grabbing Seralyse by the hand and dragging her toward the room that only had the one bed.
"Wait, what?" Seralyse exclaimed.
"I don't have the energy to wake up wedged between those two. And there's only one blanket and you're the warmest," Alisen argued as she got the Kin girl into the room with only a minimal amount of growling.
Arestes shook his head but couldn't contain his smile at the general antics. He didn't miss much about being on the ships. The food sucked, the people stank, and it was a great deal of work. Kaden was far more interested in them than he was. But he did miss the general camaraderie of more people in a group. Especially when they were all friends. Some crews had been miserable with internal petty rivalries. But most hadn't. And he enjoyed laughing with others.
He closed the door to that room and stepped through the doorless opening to the one with the two beds. Neither looked particularly inviting so he tossed himself down onto the closer one. It was stiff and cold. But it wasn't the claustrophobic earth under the caravan, or a wooden plank. He closed his eyes and figured it wouldn't take more than a moment to sleep. But the Warden spoke.
"Are they together?" he asked. A hint of something tinged his voice. Jealousy perhaps?
"We met the Volkar when we met you," Arestes answered.
"I meant Kaden and Seralyse," Wyckham said.
"Barely known her any longer than you," Arestes said. "What makes you think they are?"
"She doesn't snap at him as much when he calls her Sera," Wyckham shrugged. "She stares at him. She tried to go down to the caravan with him. She asked for his help with the costume."
"As far as I know they are not," Arestes answered, figuring the sooner he could shut the Warden up the sooner he could sleep. "We agreed to guard her from Pelican's Rest to Bazaar. She wanted to make stops along the way to make some money."
"She got down here herself?" Wyckham asked.
"As far as I'm aware," Arestes answered.
"A ship would have been far more efficient to get back to Bazaar. Pelican's rest to Rose Harbor should be easy," Wyckham said.
"That's what we said. She said it was too expensive," Arestes said.
"So you agreed to travel from your home, across two countries to escort her, and presumably back?" Wyckham asked, clearly in moderate disbelief.
"Rose Harbor to Pelican's Rest will be an easy way back," Arestes shrugged. "She offered a lot of money."
"Apparently," Wyckham said. Arestes heard the thump of his armor hitting the ground and the slight creak from the Warden resting on the other bed. But by that point, he was too tired to care much more for conversation.
Instead his mind shifted to the journey ahead. He hadn't been thrilled by it. It seemed long and pointless and he assumed the girl had lied about her finances. But with friends? Well, with friends maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing I do appreciate all of the support I receive. If you wish to support me further I am available on PAT RE ON at TE7writes. There are ten additional chapters of this story here, as well as the remaining chapters of Cleansing the Sins.
Next up here is back to Hogwarts with Daphne's first POV chapter. Thanks again for reading!