by Pirateaba
“We have to spread the word. Carefully. Miss Ryoka Griffin’s life, and the lives of other innocents are at risk if we do not keep the secret. Not to mention we might force the enemy into acting before we are ready.”
“Do not tell me my business, Shivertail. I will reach out to my allies. I have done. Subtly. But also do not presume to lecture me now. I am grieving.”
“Through the bottom of a mug?”
“If I must!”
The two Drakes glared at each other as Ilvriss half-rose out of his chair. The door opened. Olesm walked in, precisely on time, juggling a sheaf of papers.
“I’m sorry, am I late? I was just receiving the latest reports from the Mage’s Guild and the [Scribe] was delayed—”
“Not at all. In fact, no one else has turned up.”
Zel nodded to Ilvriss as Olesm hurried to a seat opposite the two Drakes. Olesm bobbed his head awkwardly to the two of them, looking intimidated at being alone with two famous Drakes. Zel knew better than to try and strike up small chat; instead he leaned over towards Ilvriss and hissed at him under his breath.
“At least keep him out of your drinking sessions. Some of these young Drakes work hard for the future of the city and don’t need you stepping on their tails and holding them back.”
“I care about the next generation, Shivertail. Don’t lecture me—and besides, we were celebrating young Swifttail. He reached Level 28 yesterday!”
“So soon? That’s impressive.”
“I have a mind to recommend his name when I return to Salazsar. He’s wasted here, and if he joins that army of sellswords he’ll languish there as well.”
Zel grimaced at Ilvriss’ jab at Liscor’s army. He had been a close friend and student of General Sserys, former [General] of Liscor and leader of the famed mercenary army. He couldn’t deny that the army had suffered in the decades since then, but it felt disrespectful to his mentor’s memory to agree.
Changing the subject, he glanced at Olesm. The papers he was spreading out could only mean one thing.
“There’s news from Esthelm at last, Olesm?”
Olesm jumped and nearly dropped the papers he was spreading around.
“Yes sir! It came in just as I was checking this morning. I brought it here right away and sent Street Runners to gather the Council. I hope I wasn’t being presumptuous?”
Ilvriss smiled at Olesm and waved a languid claw.
“Not at all. I’m sure that General Shivertail appreciates your forwards thinking and quick action, as do I. But tell us, what is the news? I don’t feel like waiting for the rest of the Council to drag themselves out of their beds.”
He and Zel exchanged a grimace. The Council in Liscor was made up of various Guild heads and what passed for politicians in the city, but given Liscor’s relative isolation, they were hardly a premier group of leaders. Liscor generally trusted to its natural geographical defenses and strong walls as well as its powerful army to deter threats, and hadn’t suffered a real crisis since the last Antinium War. Olesm nodded and glanced towards the windows.
“Zevara, that is to say, the Watch Captain seems to be delayed. I think she got a report and is relaying it to Klbkch, that is to say, the representative of the Hive—”
He coughed, glancing anxiously towards Zel and Ilvriss. Zel suppressed any reaction and nodded mildly.
“I understand. If you don’t mind repeating the message, you can give us the short version now.”
“Certainly. To summarize, we finally received a message from Esthelm…a day and a half since the Goblin Lord was predicted to have passed by its walls. It seems that delay was unavoidable—every tail has been needed to tend to the wounded.”
The two Drakes exchanged a glance. Zel frowned.
“Dire news. But the fact that there are wounded seems to indicate they survived the Goblin Lord’s passing.”
“Yes sir. I have the full report here, but to summarize, the Goblin Lord assailed their walls with a portion of his force as his army marched by, was repulsed, and left Esthelm alone.”
“Intriguing. I wouldn’t have thought he’d leave any city standing, much less one as poorly defended as Esthelm.”
Ilvriss frowned as he accepted a parchment detailing the battle. Zel frowned at it, but nodded slowly.
“No, it falls with what Olesm predicted, Ilvriss. Esthelm’s citizens were ready to fight—nearly all of them have combat classes now, and the Antinium repaired their walls. Add that to the fact that there’s really not much for the Goblin Lord to take a second time, and it’s a fairly unappetizing target.”
Olesm nodded and coughed again.
“It uh, seems that way, General Shivertail. However, Esthelm had to prove that it wasn’t going to be taken so easily. They had to fight off several waves of Goblins and make them pay for each foothold they established before the attacking force dispersed. The casualties…”
“A quarter dead and over half the population wounded in some way. I see.”
Zel closed his eyes, imagining the carnage. The Humans had held their city, kept it, but at a terrible price. He pushed the parchment back and looked at Ilvriss. The Drake was grimacing, rubbing at his temples.
“It seems we’ll have a quick meeting. There’s not much we can do but wait for reinforcements from Liscor’s army and the second suppression force to arrive. And that will take a week at least.”
“You’ll have to repeat that six ways before the Council’s reassured, sir.”
“I know.”
Zel grimaced and Ilvriss growled some very insulting words about ‘spineless slug-like lizards’ under his breath. Meetings with Liscor’s Council were never easy. But then Zel smiled as he thought of his news.
“Well, perhaps the meeting will be long, but I will leave it to you and Ilvriss to sort it out. And I must apologize in advance, because the Council probably will take a great deal of reassuring.”
“And why’s that? If you’re intending to leave, Shivertail—”
“I’m afraid that’s just it, Ilvriss. I received a letter earlier this day through Celum.”
“What?”
Ilvriss broke off in snapping angrily at Zel. The [General] stood up, and smiled. He controlled the trembling in his claws and tail as he looked casually at Olesm, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
“Please explain it to the Council like this, Olesm. I’m leaving. I have a meeting with someone further north. I’ll be traveling to Celum, and then, hopefully, further north even than that. I’m aware of the dangers of the Goblin Lords and the Humans, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“What?”
Both Drakes shot to their feet. Well, Ilvriss. Olesm had already been standing. The Wall Lord stared at Zel in disbelief.
“If you go north, half of those damn Humans will interpret it as an act of war! A Drake [General] hasn’t gone past Liscor since—”
“The last Antinium War. I know.”
Zel looked around the room calmly. He glanced towards the door and saw it open. Watch Captain Zevara strode in, looking breathless. She saluted as she saw Zel Shivertail.
“General Shivertail, I apologize for my delay. Is—is the rest of the Council not here yet?”
She looked incredulous and disgusted.
“I’ll send guardsmen to rouse them at once. My apologies—”
“Thank you, Watch Captain Zevara. But please, you might want to wait a moment. I was just telling the others that I was leaving the city.”
“Leaving the—”
Zel Shivertail smiled and straightened. The other Drakes were staring at him, and his heart was pounding wildly. But now he’d said it. It was too late to turn his tail and make another choice. He looked around the room.
“I’m going. Don’t worry Ilvriss; I’m still concerned with the Goblin Lord’s threat and—other matters. But I’m going to tackle it my way. I’m going north. To meet with someone.”
The room was silent. Ilvriss stared at Zel, and his eyes slo
wly narrowed.
“Who?”
The Drake [General] grinned at the Lord of the Wall as if he were two decades younger. Zel turned and strode out of the room without replying. The room was silent for two thundering heartbeats after he’d closed the door, and then all three Drakes charged after him. But it was too late. Zel was already running for the gates.
—-
In Liscor, a Drake [General] ran towards an inn and reappeared in a Human city nearly a hundred miles north in moments. That was a small miracle of transportation. However, once in Celum, Zel Shivertail’s ability to travel would be severely reduced. No other city had magical doors from a bygone era lying about, and if he wanted to travel with magic, Zel would find his options severely limited.
If you wanted to move fast, you had a few very improbable choices available to you. It was, in theory, possible to teleport people hundreds or thousands of miles, but only a few very high-level mages could do that. In fact, the most common use of teleportation was sending hand-sized parcels from one continent to another. That was the limit of most mages’ abilities. If you wanted to teleport a person from Chandrar to Terandria for example, you’d need a group of skilled [Mages]. Or an Archmage.
And if you didn’t have access to that many mages, there were only limited and ancient scrolls or magical artifacts that could help you. Scrolls of long distance teleportation were rarer than moon diamonds however, and not to be used lightly. A powerful kingdom might horde such artifacts for the most important of circumstances for generations.
So if there wasn’t magic, how else could one travel? By horseback? Wagon? By air? It was true that there were species that could fly, like the Garuda in Chandrar, but such travel was dangerous and highly impractical for other species. As for horses—yes, a [Rider] with high levels could travel at speed and a [Caravaner] might possess Skills that allowed him to travel at faster speeds, but the stark truth of it was that the size of Izril and indeed, the world, meant that travelling across a continent took weeks or months.
To move faster was an impossibility for almost everyone. Even famous [Mages] and celebrities would travel by carriage, where levels and magical wheels would allow them to reach up to a hundred miles per day. That was the limit of this world. No one could move faster. No one. Why, you’d need a Pegasus to go faster, and they were all extinct! You’d have to ride a Dragon’s back, or cast the [Fly] spell. Or ride a magical carriage.
Far to the north of Celum, hundreds of miles north in fact, a bright pink carriage shot down a small road meant for foot travel. The carriage was large, grandly ornamented with gold and careful woodwork embellished by some long-dead master carpenter, and now, casually painted over with eye-searing pink. Four misty, semi-translucent horses pulled the carriage, running faster than any living horse in existence.
The carriage barreled down the dirt path, weaving to follow the curving road, almost soundless thanks to the magic enchanting it. And there was a lot of magic on the carriage. Without it, the vehicle would never have survived the speed of the journey, or managed to turn as nimbly as it did in response to the driver’s movements.
A young man wheeling a handcart was heading down the road in the opposite direction, pushing a few sacks of produce or something else ahead of him and not looking where he was going. Why should he? Aside from monsters, bandits, or the uncertain nature of causality, he was perfectly safe. After all, there was no such thing as cars in this world.
The magical carriage drifted around a bend in the dirt road, shooting out behind a line of trees, a blur of pink death. The young man had only a moment to look up and see it coming at him, faster than thought. He put up his hands and screamed his last words—
Seconds after the carriage had shot past him, moving off the road for a split-second and continuing its mad course across the countryside. The young man stood where he was, frozen in fear. He would later abandon his cart and suffer reoccurring nightmares and maintain a distinct aversion for all things pink for year afterwards. But he was only one obstacle in the road, one skillfully avoided by the magical carriage’s driver.
And it was notable that this famed carriage, belonging to none other than Magnolia Reinhart, did not routinely run over pedestrians. In fact, it was known for only being decorated with the blood of bandits or monsters. Aside from the heart-stopping fright it generated, people who had seen it travelling reasoned it was safe. After all, who would be so foolish as to enchant a coach to move that fast and not give it the ability to avoid collisions?
—-
“Blood on my grave, that was close.”
Reynold muttered to himself as he turned the coach down the road, shooting past a quiet village. The world blurred around him, and the freezing wind blew hard at him as he sat in the driver’s seat of Magonlia’s pink carriage. Only the magical enchantments kept him from shivering in his butler’s uniform.
“Reynold? We’ve slowed. Is everything alright?”
A voice came from the carriage behind him, and the sliding panel connecting him with the interior slid open a fraction. Reynold coughed and raised his voice to be heard.
“My apologies Lady Reinhart. We’re passing by a village and I must navigate us over a river.”
“Ah, bridges. How tiring. Thank you, I completely understand.”
The panel slid shut. Reynold didn’t have to look behind him to know that it had been Ressa who’d both opened the panel and closed it. The silent [Head Maid] who accompanied her mistress everywhere was quiet as a falling leaf when she wanted to be. In fact, she could be right behind him and Reynold wouldn’t notice. It had happened before.
Part of Reynold wanted to turn his head, but he didn’t dare look away as he guided the coach over a small footbridge that left bare inches on either side for the wheels—all at a speed a bit faster than Ryoka could run. The horses and indeed, wheels of the carriage turned precisely as he adjusted the reins in his hand—moving as much from his mental orders as his physical motions.
Reynold cleared the bridge, scanned the road quickly, and accelerated to a velocity that would have left the average unladen Swallow, European or otherwise, far behind in the dust. The world blurred into a tunnel once again and Reynold could only trust to his Skills and his reflexes to spot obstacles in the road ahead.
“Reynold?”
The panel slid open as Reynold guided the carriage out of the forest and upwards towards a hill. He cursed as he spotted rocky terrain ahead and whispered a word.
“[Flying Wheels]—yes, Lady Reinhart?”
“I have some delightful chocolates here, and Ressa tells me I’m not allowed to eat them all in one sitting. Would you like one?”
The carriage’s wheels rose off the ground and shot over the rocks in front of them, climbing effortlessly as Reynold tried to find the best incline that wouldn’t send them crashing into the hillside. His knuckles were white on the reins as he sent the coach upwards at dizzying speeds, but his voice was level and only a bit high-pitched as he replied.
“You are most kind Lady Reinhart, but I ah, am quite satisfied at the moment. Thank you.”
“A pity. Ressa will have to eat them I suppose, or my other guests. Oh, we are travelling upwards, aren’t we? Reynold, make us fly, won’t you? I do enjoy that.”
“Yes, Lady Reinhart.”
Reynold nearly screamed. Instead of decelerating as he crested the top of the hill, he willed the carriage to go faster. The pink coach shot over the top of the hill and flew through the air for several heart-stopping seconds. Reynold heard a delighted laugh from the carriage behind him as he spoke a hurried word, activating another enchantment.
“[Featherfall]. [Featherfall!]”
Slowly, he saw the world approaching below him. Reynold jerked the reins and the coach smoothly turned left, avoiding a rock and a lake and returning to ground smoothly and finding the road again. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then spoke another word.
“[Grounded Wheels].”
There was a slight
rumble and increased traction as the wheels met solid earth again. Now they were on a straightaway headed through some flat, lovely, open plains. Reynold could have cried in relief. He turned, and nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw Ressa, standing next to him. The [Maid] had climbed out of the carriage’s door and to the front without him hearing a thing.
“Reynold.”
“Yes, Miss Ressa?”
Reynold’s eyes jerked ahead of him as Ressa’s low voice spoke in his ears. The [Maid] eyed the road ahead and nodded to the magical horses pulling them ever faster.
“Don’t use the [Flying Wheels] enchantment if Lady Magnolia asks again. It wastes magical energy and we don’t have time to spend recharging the mana stones more than necessary.”
“Yes, Miss Ressa.”
“Spoilsport!”
An indignant voice called from within. Reynold breathed a sigh of relief as Ressa turned and pulled herself back into the carriage. He heard them talking for a second.
“We’re close to our destination. It looks like thirty minutes more.”
“Excellent. I’m tired of sitting and I could use a chance to stretch my legs before the next trip. Also, I’d like lunch.”
“It should be ready by the time we arrive. Without tea, this time. You don’t need to have that much sugar and we don’t have time to stop and let you pee every fifteen minutes.”
“That was a poor batch of tea, Ressa. Honestly, it happened once.”
“And it won’t happen again.”
The panel slid shut and Reynold breathed a sigh of relief. He guided the carriage onwards, spraying mud and snow as he travelled across the countryside. Not the roads—even in winter, colliding with an errant traveler was too likely. He kept his head scanning the horizon for threats, points of interest, and to make sure he was going the right way.
This was his job. He was a [Butler], one of the many servants in the Reinhart employ. But he was also one of Lady Magnolia’s personal aides, which meant that he had…other…competencies. One of them was driving this carriage.