Annabeth Chase
Perhaps Will Solace had been right to be concerned when insisting she stay with the unit because soon her headache was growing, and a rather unpleasant sense of nausea settled in. She tried to focus on the conversation between Lord Helton, Sir Perseus, and the other men, but the buzzing in her ears made it difficult to concentrate.
Lord Helton's men moved quickly to secure the remaining prisoners. Bound and disarmed, the bandits were a sorry sight, shivering in the cold and glancing around with wide, fearful eyes. Annabeth felt a surge of anger as she looked at them. These were the men who had caused so much pain and death, who had nearly destroyed her mission before it had even begun.
"You do not look to good," Will Solace observed, sitting down next to her at the back of the carriage after the last of the wounded was loaded in the back and they finally got underway. His charger was tethered to the back of the wagon.
Annabeth leaned her head against the wooden frame of the carriage, wincing as the motion of the carriage made her headache worse. "I've had better days," she muttered, closing her eyes for a moment to steady herself.
Will gently touched her forehead, frowning in concern. "Looks like your bell got wrung pretty well there, maybe you should lie down."
As it turned out, warrior was right. Soon after she had laid down, wrapped in the coat Sir Perseus had lent her for the time being, her day once again took a turn for the worse.
As the hours passed, Annabeth drifted in and out of consciousness, her dreams a chaotic mix of memories and fears. She saw flashes of the ambush, the bandits' faces twisted in malice, and thundering hooves. She heard Tanja's final gasps and saw the haunted look in her eyes, a look that would forever be etched in her memory.
When Annabeth opened her eyes again, she was sitting bolt upright in a soft bed. The room was dimly lit by the flickering glow of a fireplace, the warmth of the flames casting a comforting light across the stone walls. She took a moment to gather her bearings, her head still throbbing from the aftereffects of her ordeal.
"You're awake," a familiar voice said gently from the doorway. Annabeth turned her head to see Thalia rising from a chair next to her bed.
"Where am I?" Annabeth asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Archeberry Castle," Thalia replied, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. "You fainted on the way here. Will Solace has been tending to you."
With her white cloak thrown over the back of a chair, Annabeth realized Thalia was wearing some sort of gray religious garments. A long dagger hung from around her waist.
"Don't worry. Your folks are being taken care off. I thought after what happened, you might prefer not to have a man present when you came around."
Annabeth nodded, her mind flashing back to the ambush, to Garret, and to the fate she had narrowly escaped. The memories felt like dark, swirling clouds in her mind, threatening to pull her back into the abyss of fear and helplessness.
"I—" Annabeth started, her voice breaking. She swallowed hard, trying to regain control.
"You got your bell wrung pretty good there," Thalia announced.
"I need to check on my people," Annabeth said an rose to her feet, only now realizing she was in her under dress. She also did not want to leave her cargo entirely unattended. It occurred to her
"I think you should rest some more," Thalia cautioned her but did not try to stop her when she began to awkwardly pulled on her dress and coat. Once she was dressed, Annabeth looked at her appearance in the mirror. Her face was colorful painting of greens and blues, and her lower lip was busted. It was a small miracle her nose wasn't broken and she hadn't lost any teeth.
She groaned and began to move, her muscles protesting. As tempting as resting was, that simply was not an option. So, with Thalia on her heels, she stepped out into a hallway covered in wood paneling covered with artful carvings. "Left," Thalia promoted her and Annabeth did as suggested, and they headed the few steps towards the end of the hallway. Thalia pushed the heavy door open, and they stepped onto a gallery looking down onto the castle's inner courtyard. As far as castle courtyards went, it was quite spacious with stables, workshops, and a training area. It was cold, and with the winter son handing deep, the courtyard was cast in twilight and the frozen air was very still. The silence was broken though, of artisans working on one of her wagons, and the song of swords
Two men, clad in gambesons and helmets, armed with swords and shields, were moving around each other as they exchanged blows. One was the giant man servant, Beckendorf, who moved with surprising grace and agility, while the other, one of the twins, tried to fend the larger man off. A third man stood inside the sandy ring as well, leaning against one of the fence posts, watching the sparing match with a the blade of his sword resting on his shoulder. It was the dark haired night, Sir Perseus. He stood next to a buff looking balding man in his fifties. A dozen or so other men and a few boys were watching the sparing match form outside the ring,
Annabeth watched the sparring match with muted interest, her body still aching from the ordeal. She leaned against the wooden railing of the gallery, the cold biting through her coat but doing little to cool the lingering heat of frustration and helplessness gnawing at her core.
"They've been at it for a while," Thalia commented, standing next to her. She leaned on the railing as well, her posture relaxed but her sharp eyes taking in every movement below. "Percy likes to keep his men sharp."
"Is that what you call it?" Annabeth muttered, rubbing her temples. Her mind was still foggy, but she couldn't ignore the undercurrent of tension rippling through the air. The ambush, the bandits, the chaos—it was too fresh, too raw. Every noise, every shadow seemed to tug at her frayed nerves.
Below, Beckendorf landed a solid blow on his opponent's shield, sending the smaller man staggering back. Sir Perseus, leaning against the post, merely chuckled, offering no sympathy to his struggling companion.
"Stop messing around, this is supposed to be sword play, not knitting," the knight called, a faint note of exasperation in his note. "Beckendorf, keep your bloody guard up. If Travis weren't fighting like a drunk whore-monger you would be in serious trouble now. Try again!"
The two men separated, squared up, and engaged again. The fight went a lot quicker than she would have accepted, the two men exchanging no more than a few blows before Beckendorf, the giant, outmaneuvered the smaller man and struck a blow across his back. The other, Travis, staggered forward but recovered and then squared up again.
"Much better!" Sir Perseus yelled, "Travis, got ahead of yourself with your footwork there. Nice try though."
"Damn, he is in a lecturing mood," Thalia said and began to lead her down a flight of wooden steps in the side of the building into the courtyard. By the time she reached her it legs were burning, and her heart thundering in her chest, but she forced herself to keep her breath steady. Others were watching too, watch men, and artisans from their ships, and also a few women.
The knight glanced over at her as if sensing her approach and his face broke in a grin. "Ah, my lady," he greeted her, "Back among the world of the living, are we?"
"Just barely," she conceded, forcing a smile onto her face, her tone during their first meeting still painfully fresh in her memory. Mouthing off to nobles was all fun and well, until you suddenly found yourself forced to confront them later, and considering he had just saved her sorry ass, she might as well be on her very best behavior.
Sir Perseus seemed to sense her discomfort and tilted his head slightly. "I trust you're feeling better?"
Annabeth nodded slowly. "Yes, much better. You and your men have my gratitude for that."
He placed his hand on his chest and bowed his head on her chest, accepting her thanks with an infuriating amount of grace. "Keeping the king's peace for you was nothing less than our pleasure."
"And I recall ordering bed rest for you," Will Solace announced, coming over from where he had been watching. He fixed her with a stern look that Annabeth, with some of her whits recovered, blankly returned.
"I feel well enough," she said with a smile that made her cheeks hurt.
"Well, suit yourself," Will said, clearly deciding that arguing with her was not worth his time.
It was for the best, too, because she had more than enough to do. After checking in with her caravan and sitting down with Vanier, Michael, and a few others, they concluded they would need at least a few days to get back in shape to continue. Considering the weather was not improving, they faced the real risk of being stuck until spring. A few of their wagons needed repairs, and some of their members needed time to recover, if they were capable of continuing at all.
Annabeth knew that time was not on their side. The winter threatened to trap them at Archeberry Castle, but she also recognized that pushing forward unprepared would be disastrous. She needed to make the most of their unexpected stay.
After their meeting, Annabeth decided to explore the castle grounds. Perhaps there was more to learn here, and she needed to clear her mind. The courtyard was bustling with activity. Artisans worked on the damaged wagons, and the castle's blacksmith had offered his services to repair any broken equipment. What remained of her mercenaries, and a fair number of Lord Helton's men had even joined Sir Perseus and his fellowship in their drills, almost causing even more ruckus.
"Want to catch some fresh air?" Thalia finally asked.
Annabeth looked at Thalia, grateful for the invitation. She nodded, craving a quiet moment away from the busy courtyard. "Yes, please. Lead the way."
Thalia guided her through the keeps heavy set Gatehouse and out into the town outside.
As they stepped beyond the gatehouse, Annabeth took in the sight of the town nestled at the base of Archeberry Castle's stone walls. The town was small, with steep-roofed buildings clustered along narrow, snow-covered streets. Smoke rose from chimneys, filling the cold air with a comforting scent of burning wood. Villagers bustled about, bundled in heavy cloaks as they went about their lives. A few children where keeping themselves occupied with a snowball fight.
"They brought in a few more captured bandits while you were out," Thalia finally announce.
Annabeth pulled her coat tighter around her, watching the townsfolk with a sense of calm she hadn't felt in days. "Good," she replied softly, feeling a flicker of satisfaction. "I imagine they will be executed soon..."
"Percy said most of them will be executed at dawn, he talked to Lord Helton earlier. Apparently some are still being interrogated."
"Let's walk a bit," Thalia suggested. They moved past the town square toward the edge of the village, where the buildings gave way to an open stretch of snowy fields. Annabeth took a deep breath, letting the crisp air steady her. After a few moments, Thalia spoke again, her voice low. "For what it's worth, you offered a good reckoning of yourself with the bandits."
Annabeth let out a shaky breath, glancing away as she processed Thalia's words. "I hardly did anything. I froze up, and it almost cost me everything."
Thalia looked at her carefully, her gaze understanding but unyielding. "You will outlive them all. By the grace of the the gods, you survived, and they are already dead, or will have soon died in infamy."
Annabeth appreciated the notion, though it was born from a far more fatalistic mindset than hers.
"It's just," Annabeth hesitated, unsure how to articulate the tangled thoughts that plagued her. "I always thought I'd be stronger, that I'd face danger without—without fear like that. But I... didn't. I just gave up.."
"You are not a warrior," Thalia corrected her gently. "It would be folly to hold yourself to a standard that even many that walk the path of the sword would fail to uphold."
She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, forcing her shoulders to relax.
"Thank you," Annabeth said, her voice steadier. "I suppose I had unrealistic expectations of myself."
Thalia gave a small nod. "We all think we'll know how we'd act in moments of danger, but reality tends to surprise us. Even seasoned warriors have faltered in battle. Fear isn't failure—it's survival." Thalia sighed deeply, "I would be pleased if you were to join us for our evening prayers after mass, it might help fortify your troubled soul."
Annabeth paused, caught of guard, and fumbled for a moment for an excuse not too before forcing a smile on her face. "That would be nice," she lied, briefly wondering if being murdered in that forest might have been preferable. There was no polite way to turn Thalia down that would not leave questions she was unwilling to answer. Not only that, now she would be expected to attend evening mass.
Thalia broke the silence. "Tell me, Annabeth, if you don't mind my asking... what brings you so far north, and so late in the year?" There was a casual interest in Thalia's tone, but Annabeth sensed the curiosity running deeper. Whether Thalia sought understanding or just conversation, Annabeth wasn't entirely certain.
"Business, mainly," she answered, keeping her tone neutral. "The north is home to valuable resources, and my father is ever the opportunist. He asked me to oversee some... investments."
"I see," Thalia said doubtfully.
So, having made the commitment, she followed Thalia out of the great hall after supper to the chapel. Compared to the grand cathedral she was used to, it was a very small building. By design, the chapel was dim and quiet, a place where flickering candlelight softened the cold stone walls and cast a warm glow over the cold wooden pews. Annabeth kept her gaze low as they entered, her unease growing. The others who came with them knelt immediately, making the sign of the faith, and murmuring prayers, their breaths rising from their mouths as mist. She imitated their posture as best she could, though her heart was heavy with reluctance. At least it wasn't too full. Lord Helton and a few of his men knelt in the first rows, with them Sir Perseus and his fellowship. Just as she was about to begin re-sighting a prayer to maintain appearances Michael suddenly knelt down next to her.
After a moment of everyone muttering to themselves Lord Helton rose to his feet and clapped his hands. "I would like to humbly welcome you, my brothers and sisters in faith. Even with our Priest currently out of town, I thought it was still important to gather here for our evening service. Especially since we have honored guests joining us today," he declared, beckoning towards Sir Perseus, Thalia, and their fellowship. "Now, gather around."
Annabeth's pulse quickened, an unexpected unease creeping over her. She was here only to blend in, but with so many expectant faces around her, the silence pressing in, it felt more like a spotlight than a shadow to hide within. The others had clasped their hands in front of them, and Annabeth did the same, hoping the gesture appeared natural, her mind running over a few phrases she could easily mouth should anyone notice her silence.
"Sir Perseus and his fellowship join us from our brothers holy endeavor in the New Kingdoms," Lord Helton said. "And when we talked about matters of faith earlier, he had a perspective that is rarely ever seen."
Perseus inclined his head, acknowledging the introduction. The chapel was quiet, every eye now fixed on him. Annabeth shifted slightly, trying to fade into the background as he stepped forward, clasping his hands behind his back. His gaze swept the small congregation before he began to speak.
"Thank you, Lord Helton," he said, his voice calm but resonant and stepped forward to join the Lord, his right hand casually resting on the pommel of his sword.
"Sir Perseus, it has been a few years since the Siege of Qualaria and you have have only recently arrived in the Imperial Heartland. It is fair to say that you have encountered the unbeliever more than most of us, even off the battlefield," Lord Helton continued. "Would you share with us what you have learned in your service to your holy Order."
Annabeth suppressed the urge to sigh, it was going to be a long evening.
Perseus took a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts before speaking. He nodded to Lord Helton, a small, almost humble gesture that seemed to acknowledge the weight of the question.
"I would be honored, my lord," he said softly, his voice carrying a calm authority that filled the chapel. "Our encounters with those of differing faiths, in times of peace and in times of conflict, teach us much about our own beliefs. Often, we see our faith sharpened by the contrast."
Perseus looked around the room, his green eyes meeting those of his fellow knights, then the villagers, as if drawing them into his thoughts. "It is easy to hold faith as an untested ideal—a creed spoken but not lived. Yet in the new kingdoms, surrounded by fell folk who live by different rules, our beliefs are tried by fire. You find out quickly if your faith is something you carry with pride or merely a mantle worn for convenience. It has been my observation, that though the riotousness of our creed is self evident, the unbeliever hods his own false idols in no lesser regard."
Perseus sat on the edge of the stage, the low altar just behind him, and for a moment, his gaze grew distant, as if he were looking beyond the walls of the small chapel, far past the snow-laden town and the castle keep. He leaned forward, his hands clasped before him, almost as if he were drawing the congregation in closer to his private thoughts. "Their faith is often unyielding, blind as it may be. I've met men and women who serve gods they believe are just as real as ours—who would give their lives, even their families, for what they hold sacred. They see our faith, our Gods, as foreign, unnecessary. A hindrance."
The flickering candlelight reflected in his eyes, casting shadows across his face, giving him a solemn, almost haunted look. "It is this fact that makes them most insidious."
"There is a current lull in our war for the soul of man," Percy continued. "And I have witnessed the unbelievers offering their gods in the market places of our new kingdoms. I have encountered their caravans on the roads I was mandated to protect."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, the tension thickening like smoke in the air. Annabeth kept her gaze down, praying that her unease wasn't visible. For what it was worth, Sir Perseus knew how to talk. That at least she had to give him.
Perseus paused, letting his words settle like a shroud over the chapel. His eyes swept over the gathered listeners, capturing each face with an intensity that made Annabeth shift uncomfortably. "I have only ever been taught to face the unbeliever with cold steel, so perhaps i speak from ignorance. But I find it hard to harden my soul against those that smile as they offer their greetings and trade, even knowing they seek to bring down all that is holy in the world."
The knight was looking down at his knees, a flicker of something—perhaps doubt, perhaps mere contemplation—passing over his face. He raised his gaze again, sweeping over the assembly with a resolute clarity.
"It is this strange dissonance," he continued, "that I have struggled with. How do we defend our faith, our people, against those who do not strike with sword and shield but with whispers and gifts? Their allegiance is false, a dark shroud over the minds they seek to convert. Yet, even knowing this, I wonder if perhaps we have made a mistake by allowing them to draw so close to us under the guise of peace."
A somber silence filled the chapel, and even Annabeth found herself held by his words despite her internal discomfort. The villagers around her, those simple folk who likely saw very little of this foreign threat, leaned in, their expressions a mixture of awe and confusion.
Lord Helton cleared his throat, looking pleased with the effect Perseus had on the crowd. "Wise words, Sir Perseus. Truly, we are grateful for your thoughts. It is a reminder to us all that vigilance is more than a blade or a wall; it is an armor around the heart. Even here, in the land of the gods." He looked over the congregation, his gaze settling on Annabeth as if to draw her into this conviction.
Under his gaze, Annabeth forced herself to nod slightly, feeling more than ever like an outsider caught up in something far beyond her intent or control. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling her role as spectator but not participant in the fervor that seemed to surge in the air around her. It wasn't the conclusion that she would have drawn from the warriors words, Annabeth thought. But then, perhaps she was willing to give the knight more credit than he deserved as he had saved her life. Who was she to judge, she was a heretic mascaraing as a faithful sheep.
The knight gave a slight bow to Lord Helton and returned to his place among the congregation, his eyes flicking briefly to Annabeth with an unreadable expression before settling once more into thoughtful silence.
"Sir Perseus, you are a gods fearing man. Would you lead our prayers tonight?" he asked.
Perseus looked surprised but honored. He stood once more, bowing his head in reverence. "It would be my privilege."