by Callie Kanno
His companion waved away this concern. “I will teach myself.”
Idris hid a smile as he thought about the fun that could be had witnessing Meic flailing about with a dangerous weapon. Maybe he would lose a finger and be unable to join the army after all.
At this point, Owen glanced over his shoulder and spoke to his son. “I still think you should get a cow or two pigs. I would be happy to make you a partner in the farm if you were willing to bring something to it.”
Meic’s eyes flashed with anger. “I told you, I am not going to be a farmer.”
Owen shrugged and went back to conversing with Cadell, but Idris thought he glimpsed a hurt expression in the man’s eyes.
“What are you going to choose?” Meic asked, his tone still warm from the confrontation with his father.
Idris tried to sound casual. “I do not know. I thought I would wait to decide until I see what is available.”
Meic was incredulous. “You have not decided?”
“There could be things there that we did not imagine,” said Idris defensively.
“How much imagination do you need to get something for a stupid farm?” Meic shot back.
“If you do not wish to work on the farm,” Cadell said over his shoulder to Idris, “you could get a horse. I am certain that Heilin and Collen would be happy to let you join their business.”
Cadell’s two younger brothers bred and trained horses on a ranch on the other side of the valley.
“I… maybe,” Idris said lamely.
The road they were following began sloping upward, over one of the mountains that protected Rest Stone Valley. Idris had never gone beyond the mountains of their little home, and he looked forward with anticipation to the sight he was soon to see.
The climb was not a difficult one, and the road soon reached the summit. Idris quickened his step and hopped on top of a large rock to the side of the road. Calaris stretched out before his eyes, all the way to the coast.
“I can see the ocean from here,” exclaimed Idris in delight.
Even Meic couldn’t hide his excitement. “Is Marath by the water?”
Owen nodded. “Yes, the western edge of the city is a massive port.”
Idris turned around to take in the entire view. Rest Stone Valley looked peaceful and quiet below, and beyond it lay the rest of the kingdom. Cadell began pointing out different landmarks to his son.
“Just beyond our valley the land turns to fen, all the way to the eastern border of Calaris. Then to the north and south there are grasslands, and that is where you will find all of the cities and villages and farms. Calaris is not a very wide nation, but it is quite long. I once saw a map,” he explained.
They continued walking on the dirt road as it wound downward, away from the mountain. Meic began to pepper his father with questions.
“King Nikolas has to fight to keep invaders out of the Calaris, right? Is he not the first warrior king in three generations? Are we at war with the barbarians to the east? What is their country called? Is it true that King Nikolas encourages all young men to become soldiers?”
Idris could practically see the dreams of glory swirling around Meic’s head.
Owen seemed reluctant to answer his son’s questions. “The country to the east is called Roshum, I believe. It is true that we are often at war with them…”
“Then it is our duty to join the king’s army and fight,” Meic said with satisfaction.
Cadell raised a finger. “Ah, but if we all were soldiers, who would grow the food to feed the kingdom? Even King Nikolas the Bold cannot create grain out of thin air.”
Meic was silenced by his words, and Idris grinned at his father. He knew that Cadell took great pride in his farm, and he often spoke of how it was the greatest occupation a man could have. Idris also loved the farm, but he felt strange when he thought about working there for the rest of his life.
The four kept a good pace throughout the day, stopping only briefly for a quick meal at midday. By the time the sun was beginning to set, they had reached an area just off the road that had been cleared of any plants or rocks. A blackened fire pit sat in the center, and it was apparent that the site was often used by travelers.
Idris and Meic began gathering sticks from the ground surrounding a nearby tree, and soon a small fire was burning in the pit. Cadell and Owen combined supplies, and before long they had a pot full of stew to go around and a loaf of bread to sop up the gravy.
The conversation naturally turned back to their destination, and Meic and Owen got into a heated discussion about Meic’s desire to join the army.
Cadell and Idris gave them a bit of privacy and settled down to talk on their own.
“So,” Idris’s father started, “you have not decided what you want from the Treasury?”
Idris had been reluctant to discuss it with others, but it felt natural to confide in his father. “I have been thinking about it a lot, but I can never seem to settle on anything. Every idea that I come up with just does not seem right for me.”
Cadell’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Do you want to join the army, like Meic?”
Idris shook his head. “No, I love the farm. But when I think about getting cows or pigs it just feels… wrong.”
“Well, there are lots of options,” his father said encouragingly. “You could get some gold and buy some land, or the blacksmith is looking for an apprentice. When I was your age I decided to get gold because I was not sure what I wanted either.”
Idris had never known this about his father. “Really?”
Cadell nodded. “Really. My brothers already had plans for breeding horses, and so your grandfather said that the farm would be mine. I did not know what I would need to help the farm along, so I just got some gold from the Treasury. I figured I could always decide later.”
“Maybe I should do the same,” said Idris doubtfully. Even that didn’t feel right.
Cadell fixed his solemn gaze on his son. “If you do, just remember that it will have to be paid back someday. It is tempting to take a large amount of gold, but if you cannot earn it back during your lifetime then you leave your family in debt when you die. Remember: we are only farmers, not lords.”
Idris considered his father’s words as he rolled up in his blanket for the night. He could not understand why it was so hard for him to decide, especially since he knew that he wanted to stay in Rest Stone Valley. He did not have dreams of adventures or glory. He just wanted to stay near his family and settle down. Maybe find a girl to marry…
It seemed that he had only just drifted off to sleep when he was being shaken awake again.
“Wake up, my boy. Time for us to get going.”
They had a cold breakfast of bread and dried fruit, packing up their camp as they ate. Owen pulled out a sweet bun for Meic, declaring it to be a birthday treat. Meic ate it with relish, looking at Idris as if expecting him to be jealous.
Idris smiled blandly and said, “Happy birthday, Meic.”
The weather was as fair as the previous day, and Idris had an enjoyable time walking along the dirt road. A slight breeze rustled through the tall grass on the sides, and soon the small road merged with a larger one that was paved with cobblestones.
Traffic on the new road was heavier, since there were many who had business in the capital of Calaris. There were wagon trains with various goods, patrolling soldiers in charge of keeping the peace, petitioners, and several other duos that looked to be parents escorting their fifteen-year-old children to the Treasury.
It took them half a day to reach the gates of Marath, but they could see the city looming in the distance long before they arrived.
Marath looked just like the cities described in the old war stories, with a wall that was made of thick stone and stood three times the height of a man. Each of the city gates were made of giant logs that had been reinforced with bars of steel, and archers were positioned along the top of the wall at regular intervals.
The four tra
velers joined in the line of other visitors to the city to be questioned by the guards at the gate.
“What are your names?” The guard who asked the question was wearing a green tunic that bore the sigil of the city—a tower guarded by a dragon.
“Cadell and Idris of Rest Stone Valley,” Cadell answered.
“What is your business in Marath?” the soldier questioned, jotting down a note in an enormous ledger.
“My son is now fifteen years of age. We are here to visit the Treasury.”
The soldier nodded, making another note. “How long will you be in the city?”
“One day.”
“When you leave Marath you will be required to pass through this same gate so we can verify your information,” droned the guard, waving them past. “Thank you, move along.”
Idris thought briefly about whispering to Meic that his future as a soldier would probably be the same as the guard’s, but the jibe was driven from his mind as he entered the city.
The noise of a thousand voices talking all at once broke over Idris’s senses. The gate opened up to a square that was filled with all sorts of people. Some were greeting visitors they had been expecting, some were watching a group of street performers, some had small handcarts from which they were selling food or trinkets, some were simply standing around chatting. In the center of the square was a statue of a man holding a broadsword. He had a thick beard and he was portrayed wearing elaborate robes.
“King Nikolas,” said Cadell, gesturing to the statue.
Idris studied the statue with renewed interest. He had never seen the king before, nor a likeness of him. The statue certainly gave the man the look of a warrior, and Idris wondered if the same was true in real life.
At this point they were joined by Owen and Meic. The two of them looked just as unnerved by the chaos of the city as Idris felt.
“Shall we go on?” suggested Owen, his voice rather strained.
He pointed towards the center of the city where, even over the tops of the tall buildings, the spires of the royal palace could be seen. That was where the royal family lived, along with the higher nobility and those that served them.
Cadell gave Idris’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “The Treasury awaits.”
Chapter Three: The Treasury
The home of King Nikolas was called the Water Palace. It had been built from marble composed of various shades of blue, and the design made the building look like an enormous fountain. The spires looked like jets of water shooting towards the sky, and the walls were textured to look like water as well.
If the design of the palace itself were not enough to carry on the theme, the courtyard held several magnificent water features that added to the ambience. A waterfall tumbled down the center of the stairs to the grand entrance, several fountains glittered along the walkways, and an artificial stream flowed through the ground level of the palace.
Idris stared at his surroundings with open wonder on his face. He could never have imagined such wealth and grandeur.
One of the civic soldiers—wearing the green tunic with the city sigil—had been assigned to show them to the entrance of the Treasury, which was also on the ground floor of the Water Palace.
They walked up the stairs to the grand entrance, and through a large set of double doors that bore the royal crest—a dragon with a starburst in one of its front claws. The entrance hall was several stories high, with a glass roof letting in the sunlight. A small golden bridge took them over the artificial stream flowing through the room, and they walked down a hall to their left.
The hallway was guarded by palace soldiers—designated by blue tunics with a silhouette of the Water Palace embroidered on the chest. They watched the progress of the four farmers as they walked along, as if they didn’t trust the civic soldier to keep them under control.
At the end of the hall was a simple wooden door, in front of which stood two more palace soldiers. The civic soldier gestured them forward and then walked away without further explanation.
“You must submit to a search,” declared one of the palace soldiers.
Idris looked at his father in confusion, but followed his lead in allowing the soldier to make sure there was nothing hidden on his person. Their packs were taken to a small room off to the side, where they could pick them up after leaving the Treasury.
Idris and Cadell waited while Owen and Meic went through the same process, and then they were led through the wooden door and down a winding staircase.
At the bottom of the stairs there was a large room with several rows of benches where people could sit and wait for their turn in the Treasury. Next to another wooden door was a desk, where an aged woman with spectacles sat with a quill before her and a bookcase full of thick ledgers behind her.
Cadell led the way to the woman at the desk, and she looked at them shrewdly.
“What is the name of your city or village?”
“Rest Stone Valley,” answered Cadell.
The woman stood up and turned to the bookcase, scanning the ledgers and muttering to herself.
“Rest Stone Valley, part of the Hills Province, west of the Fenn Province…”
She selected one of the ledgers and set it on the desk with an impressive thump. The woman opened the book to the middle and thumbed her way to the last entry. Then, with a soft sigh, she sat down and prepared her quill.
“Name and lineage?”
Cadell nudged Idris, who stammered his answer. “Idris, son of Cadell, son of Garan.”
The woman made a careful entry, and Idris watched her in fascination. He had never learned how to read or write.
“Very well. Please wait there until you are called.”
Idris followed his father back to the benches where half a dozen others waited. He half-listened as Meic went through the same process, but his mind was focused on trying to slow down his racing heart.
The wooden door opened and a haughty looking girl came sweeping out. She was dressed in an elegant silk robe, and she held an elaborate tiara in her hands. A palace guard followed her out and handed the woman at the desk a slip of parchment. The woman nodded as she took it and set it aside to enter into the ledger when she was able.
“Hildar, daughter of Lord Wythe, Duke of the Hazelwood Province,” called the soldier at the wooden door.
Idris looked around and spotted a remarkably beautiful girl making her way toward the soldier. She had wavy chestnut hair and her skin was fairer than any Idris had ever seen. However, the beauty of her delicate face was marred by an expression of supreme disdain.
She went through the wooden door, and it closed behind her. Idris estimated that a half hour passed before she emerged.
The soldier handed a slip of parchment to the woman at the desk, and the process began all over again.
“Sten, son of Sten, son of Pryor.”
A slightly nauseated-looking boy followed the soldier through the wooden door. It was only a handful of minutes before he returned with a leather pouch in his hand.
“Durban, son of Cian, son of Laz.”
Idris found his attention waning. He was tired from the heightened emotions of the day, and he was impatient to be done.
After another hour, he heard the soldier call out, “Meic, son of Owen, son of Cybi.”
Idris leaned over to his father and whispered, “I thought I would be first.”
Cadell shrugged. “They must have mixed up the order. It does not matter.”
Meic followed the palace soldier through the wooden door and emerged several minutes later with a sword in his hands. His smug face shone with triumph as he faced his waiting father.
“Well,” said Owen softly, “I suppose we should head home.” He turned to Cadell and asked, “Would you like us to wait for you?”
Cadell shook his head. “No, you go on ahead.”
Idris could understand why his father had said that. There was an expression on Owen’s face that said he wanted to talk to his son alone.
“Idris, son of Cadell, son of Garan.”
Idris felt his heart leap in his chest and he turned around in a jerky motion.
“Good luck, son,” Cadell said quietly.
Idris nodded his thanks and walked over to the soldier, feeling that his feet were somehow not attached to his body.
He passed through the wooden door and found himself standing in another room, smaller than the last. There were two more palace soldiers standing by a table that held scales and other measuring instruments, and beyond them was a tall and ornate door.
The door was overlaid with gold and the royal crest was depicted with thousands of glittering jewels. The dragon appeared to be made of rubies, with eyes of emerald, and the starburst was made up of diamonds.
“Idris, son of Cadell, son of Garan?”
Idris nodded to confirm his identity, his eyes still glued to the display of wealth before him.
“You may return with a single item or, if you wish for coins or jewels, you may use one of the pouches provided within and fill it to capacity. Return here with your choice and it will be documented.”
He nodded again and one of the guards grasped the golden handle to the door and pulled it open.
Idris forced himself to walk through the opening, once again feeling as though he were not connected to his own body. He came to an abrupt stop as soon as he crossed the threshold, and he barely heard the door close behind him.
The Treasury was easily half the size of the palace itself, and Idris marveled that such a large space could exist underground. More amazing than that was the fact that every reasonable space was filled with valuables.
There were mountains of coins—gold, silver, and copper—and there were veritable rivers of loose jewels. There were several display cases with jewelry and armor, and there were stands holding a variety of weapons. There were bolts of cloth and a stack of rare fur pelts, and there were ornate vases and statues and other works of fine art. There were gilded mirrors and jeweled platters, and sets of fine china in protective cases.