A cluster of whetbugs buzzed through the fields and all around the group. Their knife-like shape and huge bulging eyes freaked out most Camridian girls, but Katryna eyed them with a warm sense of familiarity.
It had been years since she’d seen a whetbug.
“Are you excited to be coming home? It’s been, what, six years since we left the capital?” Trish asked.
“Excited isn’t the right word, I don’t think,” Katryna said.
“Pardon m’lady, I didn’t mean it like that,” Trish said apologetically.
Katryna shook her head. “No, I know you didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m anxious, is all. Not sure how I feel about anything right now.”
“That’s understandable. So much has happened, and everything is so up in the air.”
“And how many times have I asked you?” Katryna snickered. “You don’t have to call me m’lady, Trish.”
Trish smirked. “I know it annoys you, that’s why I keep doing it… m’lady.”
Katryna rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. Her attempts at making her feel a little better seemed to be working. Her stomach had stopped churning.
“What about you?” Katryna asked. “You haven’t been back to Ravenrock in just as long.”
Trish exhaled deeply. “I don’t know how I feel either, I guess. Where is home for me? Ravenrock was never really my home to begin with and it isn’t my home now. Frostcliff was never really my home either, to be honest. More of a business stopover for my father’s trading ship. Then, when I came into your father’s service, Ravenrock was my new home. So, I don’t know, I’m not sure what to expect or how to feel.”
“You and me both, Trish.”
Trish had been hired to serve as a personal handmaiden, all the way from Frostcliff in the faraway kingdom of the Highlands by her father on one of his various travels. Both Trish and Katryna were quite young at the time. Fourteen, we were, I think?
“I guess…” Trish paused. “I guess, I am a little excited to see Edrick, though.”
Katryna smirked as Trish blushed.
“Edrick, hey?” Katryna chuckled. “Creator, I forgot about him!”
“It’s been so damn long though, I’m not sure if he will even remember me.”
“Of course, he’ll remember you! How could he not?” Katryna gestured to Trish, acknowledging her beauty.
“I broke his heart when I left with you for Redwatch. Told him I may not ever come back. We were just kids-”
“Oh, pig’s arse,” Katryna cursed.
“M’lady! Language!” Trish gasped amusingly. “Do you expect to address the court with such a foul mouth?”
Katryna was hit with what felt like a punch to the stomach. Nothing made her ache more than the thought of having to come under the eagle’s eyes of all the Camridian lords, ladies, courtiers, and nobles again. Nonetheless, she put the thought aside.
“Last I heard, Edrick was working for your family in Castle Bower as a servant,” Trish continued.
“Well, that’s good news then. You won’t have to travel far to see him once we get there.”
“Damn, Edrick was so good in bed, too,” Trish randomly added, clearly daydreaming. “The way he ran his fingers through my hair…”
Katryna burst out with a chuckle. “Trish!”
“What? It’s true! Hung like a giant, too.”
Katryna put her finger to her smiling lips, “Ssshhh!” She peered back at her riding company to ensure they have not heard the conversation.
Trish shrugged with a smile.
The sun rose higher in the sky as the day went on. Katryna’s company made their way down the Spring Mile at a decent pace. She wanted to arrive at Ravenrock by nightfall. However, the closer they got, the more dread she felt. She wasn’t at all eager for this long-awaited homecoming.
“Katryna, what have you done?!”
By the time the sun was setting towards the horizon and the sky erupted in flaming orange, the Spring Mile was coming to an end, and dirt roads gave way to cobblestone. The area became busy with people of every social class going about their business.
The old cobblestone roads were covered with manure, straw, and mud. The smell of sea salt drifted into the air, drowning out the stench of peasant life and animal faeces, and the distant squawking of grey gulls hinted at the company closing in on their seaside destination.
Tulip suddenly let out a whinny of pain. The horse staggered, nearly throwing Katryna forwards off the saddle. Instinctively, she held her grip and stabilised herself against the sudden motion.
Tulip continued carrying on as if in distress, refusing to walk any further.
Trish leapt from her saddle and grabbed Tulips’ reins to stop her from panicking. “What is it? What happened?” Trish asked.
Katryna took in a deep breath to settle her shaken nerves before jumping down to check. “I’m not sure. She just freaked out.”
The company came to a halt on the side of the road to check on Tulip. Katryna made some gentle whispers into Tulip’s ear to settle her, stroking her smooth mane as she did. The mare continued to whinny. Katryna noticed she wasn’t putting much weight on her front leg.
“There,” Katryna said, pointing to the mare’s leg. “She must have hurt her leg or something.”
One of Katryna’s guards helped lift the horse’s leg up for the women to have a look. Sure enough, an old iron nail had pierced the bottom of the horse’s hoof.
“Oh, no,” Katryna murmured. She could imagine the pain Tulip must have been experiencing. “You poor thing.”
Trish tried touching the embedded piece of metal, but Tulip struggled.
“M’lady, we are almost within the city walls. Why don’t we find you another horse?” Trish suggested.
Katryna grimaced, looking up at the sky as twilight approached. She weighed up her options. Tulip shook her injured leg about.
“It’s no problem for us, my lady,” her guard said. “I can ride with you up to the castle and someone can stay with the mare.”
Passers-by, some on foot, others in carriages or horseback, rode around the group. Curious eyes wandered over, making Katryna feel a little uneasy.
“No,” Katryna said. “I will stay. I don’t want to leave her like this.”
Trish nodded. “She’s just a horse, Kat. Let’s find you another-”
“No,” Katryna said, shutting down the idea. “She’s not just a horse.”
Her father had gifted Tulip to Katryna on her twelfth birthday. She still remembered it vividly- it was one of the only gifts she ever received from her parents, despite coming from a wealthy family.
The twelfth birthday in Camridia is a rite of passage; it is the day a child turns into a responsible young person, the first step to becoming an adult. Parents are expected to give a valuable gift. An Aurous Mare was thus very fitting.
Katryna knew that while it was a gift for doing well in her studies, and to help ease her anxieties about riding, it was also a subtle message from her father that she needed to grow up and face her fears.
What better way to do it, then?
Katryna looked about for hanging signs on the nearby wattle and daub buildings. She spotted an iron horseshoe hanging from one post not far off. “Over there. We should be able to find a stable hand to help.
Katryna led Tulip gently towards the nearby stable. She muttered soft assurances to her mare and continued patting her broad neck. Despite the pain of her injured hoof, Tulip hopped along.
Katryna took the horse in through the open doors of the stable. Above her head were long wooden beams, supporting a tall arched roof of thatch.
A young boy, no older than fourteen, was pouring water from a bucket into a drinking trough. He glanced over as he heard the group enter.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” the boy said. Judging by his voice, he had not yet reached manhood. He wore a dirty leather apron and thick boots soiled by what Katryna was hoping was mud.
One of Katryna’s guards ra
ised his voice in response. “This is the royal princess of Camridia. You will do as she asks, boy.”
Katryna immediately noticed the boy’s unease. He was practically quivering, averting his gaze.
Katryna turned to the guards and gestured. “Wait outside, if you wouldn’t mind.”
They bowed and went back to their mounts.
“My mare needs help,” Katryna said.
The boy dropped the bucket and walked over. “You will have to come back t’morrow, I’m afraid.”
“Please. She has a nail embedded in her hoof and she can no longer bare my weight. She can barely walk.”
“I’m sorry, m’lady, but my master has asked me to close up for the night.”
Katryna closed her eyes in disappointment. “There must be something you can do?”
“I would, but…” the boy looked unsure.
Katryna patted Tulip who was continuing to quietly whinny and shake her leg about. “Please,” Katryna said. “She’s in pain.”
The boy looked at Tulip. His eyes met hers, and he scratched the back of his head.
Katryna pulled out a sack of gold marks. “I can pay-”
The boy then approached, shaking his hands. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take a quick look.”
Katryna smiled. “Oh, thank you so much. Your kindness will be remembered.”
The boy lifted Tulip’s leg to examine it. His tunic was stained with sweat.
“What’s your name?” Katryna asked, standing beside the boy as he washed the wound with a bucket of clean water.
“Sam, m’lady. But everybody calls me Sniff.”
Katryna cocked her head, crouching beside him to help hold Tulip and keep her calm. “Sniff? That’s an odd nickname?”
“When I was younger, I was always sick. My friends used to always call me Sniff, on account of my constant sneezing. Momma used to say I was “allergic to the whole world.””
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Actually, I quite like it.” He rubbed his red nose. Katryna could not help but smile at the welcoming way Sniff spoke. He clearly knew his way around horses too- he knew exactly what he was doing, handling Tulip with a sort of confidence that only came with experience and dedication.
“My name is Katryna, by the way. Katryna Bower.”
The boy cocked an eyebrow, registering her comment, but did not make eye contact. Did he recognise the name? What did he know about her?
Katryna changed the topic. “Have you worked here long?”
Sniff shrugged. “Few years now. Momma needs help to put food on the table for us. Master Krem takes care of me well enough. Might even become a stablemaster myself one day.”
“I am glad to hear that. You’d make an excellent stablemaster.”
A small grin spread across Sniff’s dirty face, yet he was purposefully avoiding looking at Katryna’s eyes anymore.
“Forgive me, m’lady, but why all the questions?” Sniff said.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Not at all. It’s just that… no noble has ever taken any interest in me before.”
“You are doing me a kind service. The least I can do in return is make conversation.”
“Are you really a princess?” he asked from out of nowhere. He wiped Tulip’s hoof with a cloth before applying some ointment.
Katryna thought for a moment before responding. She was never comfortable disclosing personal information. But Sniff looked as though he could be trusted. “I am.”
“Hmm… Well, you don’t look it,” Sniff said.
“How so?”
Sniff looked her up and down. “You don’t dress like one. And you’re asking for help, rather than demanding it. Most nobles don’t talk that way.”
“I’m not exactly a typical princess.”
Sniff took some pliers. “Can I ask you to gently tap her on the face? Hard enough to distract, but not so hard as to hurt her.”
Katryna nodded at the odd request. She stood up and calmingly began tapping Tulip above the nose. “Good girl,” she whispered.
Within a second, Sniff had removed the nail. Tulip barely seemed to notice, other than a quiet whinny and a shake of her sore leg.
“Alright, all done. The ointment should heal any rot before it takes,” Sniff said, patting Tulip’s leg.
Katryna was ecstatic. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much trouble you’ve saved me.”
Sniff gave her a half bow. “S’not a problem, m’lady.”
“Here, take this. For your efforts.” Katryna handed the boy two gold marks, probably more than he’d earn in a month. His eyes went wide with astonishment.
“Oh no, I couldn’t.”
“You can, and you will. For your kindness,” Katryna said. “She means a lot to me, and you helped her when you didn’t have to. That means something and deserves a reward.”
Sniff took the marks, bowing once again, his awkwardness having disappeared. “Thank you, m’lady.”
“Thank you, Sniff.”
Chapter 3 - The Troll
A breathless night had consumed the Broken Coast war camp. Hundreds of grey tents were assembled around the small settlement of Barrowtown to house and treat those that had survived the battle that day. The air was grim, thick with sorrow.
Both of Eos’ moons, Rea and Ixo, were in the sky, but their light could barely pierce through the sea of clouds. Ixo had shattered into millions of pieces when it collided with Rea long ago. The millions of ghostly-white, crescent of Ixo shot out diagonally across the night sky, brighter than stars.
Soldiers in the war camp huddled around campfires to escape the bitter cold and to find some comfort with their comrades.
Most did not utter a single word.
King Ulmer Stoneheart had sent an assortment of healers, surgeons, and herbalists from the capital of Shadowshore with haste several days earlier. They had arrived just in time, but they were met with an appalling number of injured men.
Barely any of the soldiers had made it out of the battle unscathed.
Tomas and Rilan sat against a rough log beside a small fire by themselves towards the edge of the war camp, poking and prodding at their lukewarm stew that had been given to the men.
Tomas picked out the pieces of meat he spotted in the broth, tossing them into Rilan’s bowl.
“Still not eating any meat, hey?” Rilan asked.
Tomas shook his head. “Nope.”
The images of his father slaughtering those lambs played in his mind any time he saw meat being served. It had bothered him so much when he was a lad that he had promised himself never to eat any meat again.
“Well, you’re not really missing out on much,” Rilan said as he attempted to chew the rubbery meat. “Tastes like shit anyway.”
Tomas drank the warm broth, tasting the onions and carrots and sprinkled salt. Elsewhere, he could hear Chantry priests praying with the mortally wounded before they were to transcend, reading them the 12 Laws and passages from the Words of Power.
“Never thought I’d be so eager to go back home,” Rilan said, slurping his stew.
“Anything is better than this place,” Tomas replied. “It’s not at all what I thought it would be like.”
“Well, what were you expecting, Tommy? A quick massage from our comrades after a nice day of gentle skirmishing in the fields?”
A soldier stumbled past their campfire, clearing out his sinuses with the sounds of a dying man, before spitting on the ground next to them.
War was unlike anything Tomas had wished for.
No honour, no bravery, no excitement. No chivalrous knights fighting valiantly with clean, glistening armour.
War was loud, messy, and terrifying.
“I miss Old Bertha’s bread,” Rilan said.
Tomas smirked. “I thought you hated Old Bertha’s cooking?”
“Oh, it’s awful. Still miss it though.” The boys chuckled. “In fact, I’d rather eat one of Simple Sammy’s infamous m
eals than spend another night out here eating this shit.”
Tomas laughed. “Oh, Creator, I forgot about Simple Sammy.”
“Remember? He’d always go looking for bird’s eggs in their nests, and then eat them raw? Shell and all?”
Tomas gagged. “Don’t remind me!”
“Wonder what ever happened to him,” Rilan wondered. “He just up and left one day, didn’t he?”
“I don’t really remember, to be honest. He did so many strange things. When he did go missing, I didn’t take much note of it. If anything, it was a relief.” The boys reminisced for another moment.
“Simple Sammy, wonder where you are now?” Rilan said, looking at the stars above.
The boys could not help but picture home. Brittlepeak had little in terms of extraordinary qualities. It was so small that it didn’t even have a chantry, though some would consider it a picturesque and quaint place. The mountains surrounding the village, the pine woods, the river where he and Rilan would fish together.
Tomas had never seen the beauty there, though. Brittlepeak had always been a prison for him. People died young in Brittlepeak from an array of mysterious diseases. Tomas’s mother had been one of them when he was just a boy.
Rilan slurped up his lukewarm meal with a grimace, before leaning in closer to Tomas with a smirk on his face. The wind howled around the boys like a ghostly moan. The chill made Tomas quiver; he tightened his jacket around him.
“They say Barrowtown’s haunted, you know?” Rilan whispered in a purposefully lower tone.
“Oh, is that right?” Tomas said, rolling his eyes. “Quit trying to scare me, it isn’t gonna work.”
“No, no. I’m serious.”
Someone was howling off in the distance. A dying man? Someone having a wound tended to? Tomas did not know, and did not want to know.
“Heard some of the other soldiers whispering about it in line for our supper,” Rilan continued. “The locals say the spirits of the dead buried in the barrows walk these lands at night. The barrows can only hold them during the day. They leave the entrances open each evening to let them out.”
As Tomas thought about it, he realised the entrances to the barrows buried beneath the rolling hills did have their entrances left open.
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