Tempered Steel

by Paul J Bennett

  “I see no reason why not.”

  “Good. Then it’s agreed, assuming you’re not busy tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” she said. “Why so soon?”

  “Why not? Have you something better to do?”

  “I'm a smith, you know that. I may have customers.”

  “True enough. Then what do you say I show up at your forge at noon tomorrow? If you’re busy, we’ll simply make it another day. And if not, the ruins await!”

  “All right,” Charlaine conceded. “You’ve convinced me.”

  The server returned, depositing two tankards before them and clearing away Ludwig's previous cup.

  He lifted his drink. “Here’s to tomorrow's expedition,” he toasted.

  She raised her own cup, clanking it noisily. “To the hunt,” she said.

  Charlaine took a sip while Ludwig drank deeply. Suddenly overcome with the desire to finish hers first, she tipped her cup back, allowing the liquid to course down her throat. In answer, he gulped, drinking as fast as he could.

  They both slammed their tankards down at the same time. Charlaine let out a loud belch and quickly covered up her mouth. “Excuse me,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  In answer, he let out a burp of his own, a sound that echoed off the walls, despite the loud noise in the background.

  Ludwig held up two fingers. “Two more,” he called out.

  Out of nowhere, Charlaine was overcome with the giggles. She found the ale was no stronger than she was used to, but something seemed to be making her head swim.

  “Something funny?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, giggling again.

  “Come now, you must tell me what’s so entertaining. Was it the belch?”

  She nodded, letting out a full-blown laugh. “You should have seen your face,” she finally got out between chortles. “Have you never heard a woman burp before?”

  “As a matter of fact, no. Though to be fair, I seldom drink like that with a woman.”

  “Oh?” she said. “Then what makes me so special?”

  “I don’t know. I feel like I can be more at ease with you.”

  “You, sir,” Charlaine said, looking directly at him, “are a gentleman.”

  “Now, now,” Ludwig responded with a stern look. “There’s no reason to insult me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her face flushing.

  “Don’t be, I’m only teasing. You certainly downed that ale quick enough.”

  “I was thirsty. Working in a forge all day is hot work.”

  “That’s a good excuse. I’ll be sure to remember it.”

  “Where’s that food?” she asked, looking around.

  “It’ll be here soon enough. Now, tell me more about your own people. I honestly know remarkably little, other than the fact that they were conquered by Halvaria.”

  “I’m not sure what else there is to tell. Calabria lies to the south of Halvaria,” she started, “and rests on the shores of the Shimmering Sea.”

  “You referred to it as old?”

  “Ancient, in fact. Some say it was one of the first kingdoms of man. It existed for centuries before the rise of the Church.”

  “Does that mean they worship the old Gods?”

  “No, Calabria is extremely close to Herani, and was one of the first places the Saints travelled after leaving the Holy City.”

  “And yet it was only invaded relatively recently,” he noted. “Why do you think that was?”

  “I rather suspect it has something to do with politics. In the early days of the empire, Calabria was the military presence in the area, but that changed as Halvaria grew. The Calabrian rulers always got along with their neighbours. There was little reason for an invasion.”

  “So what changed that?”

  “I have no idea,” she admitted. “and my father only ever speaks of the final days. I’m completely in the dark when it comes to the cause of the war.”

  “So it shall forever remain a mystery,” Ludwig mused.

  “What about this region? What are our neighbours like?”

  “There are petty squabbles from time to time, but a full-blown war hasn’t happened for decades. The last time we fought, it was against Neufeld, the country to the east.”

  “What caused the conflict?” Charlaine asked.

  “They used to be part of Hadenfeld, but the barons there rose in rebellion. In the end, they broke off, creating their own kingdom.”

  “I don’t imagine that went over well.”

  “No, it didn’t. The Petty Kingdoms are always squabbling over their borders, but to lose nearly half your realm? Well, that was a shock. Of course, that's the exception. It’s common enough for wars to break out from time to time, but they seldom last that long.”

  “Why is that?”

  “They cost too much,” he said. “No one is prepared to bankrupt themselves over a few acres of land.”

  “And yet you say that’s the very reason for their disputes. How can that be?”

  “It gives them an excuse to test their strength. Wars are more about posturing than fighting. True, some of them can get quite bitter, and we might see a keep or a town change hands, but the days of conquering neighbours are in the past.”

  “Lucky for you,” said Charlaine. “I wish it were so in the south.”

  An arm reached around her, depositing a bowl on the table, followed by a plate of bread.

  “Ah, finally,” she said, then began ripping apart the bread and dipping it in the soup.

  Ludwig watched her as another bowl was placed before him. “Do you not use a spoon?”

  Charlaine looked up at him. “Sometimes,” she said through a mouthful of food. She quickly became aware that he wasn’t eating. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Apparently not as hungry as you.”

  She stopped mid-bite, suddenly mindful of who she was with. Placing her bread back on the table, she finished chewing, then swallowed. “Sorry,” she said. “Sometimes I get carried away.”

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m just not used to your ways. You know, you and I could learn a lot from each other.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning,” he explained, “you can show me what it means to be a commoner while I teach you table manners.”

  “I’d rather learn how to fight.”

  “That too.” He was about to say more, but a movement from behind Charlaine drew his attention. It appeared that Hilde was about to make her presence known once more. He stood up abruptly. “Let’s go.”

  “Go? We haven’t finished eating!”

  “I need to get out of here,” he said. “And the foods not that good in any event.” He tossed some coins onto the table.

  “All right,” she replied, scooping up her bread, “but I’m taking this with me.”

  They made their way outside, feeling the warmth of the sun on their skin.

  “It looks like the Saints have blessed us,” she announced. “It promises to be a fine day.”

  8

  The Ruins

  Summer 1094 SR

  * * *

  On the spur of the moment they decided to take advantage of the beautiful day and saddled up their horses for an afternoon ride. Ludwig, trying to be chivalrous, volunteered to help with Charlaine's horse, but the smith quickly informed him his assistance was neither needed nor warranted.

  “It’s a poor horsewoman that can’t look after her own mount,” she said.

  He finally surrendered to the inevitable and sat atop his own mount as she tightened Emerald’s straps. They set off at a brisk pace, the smith eager to begin.

  “Why the hurry?” he asked. “We’ve got all afternoon.”

  “True, but I didn’t ask my father if I could go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission,” Charlaine admitted. “And I don’t want anything to ruin this perfect day.”

  “I don’t know that
I would call it perfect.”

  “Nonsense. Look at the sky. There's not a cloud in sight.”

  “Yes,” Ludwig admitted, “and likely to get quite hot.”

  They rode on in silence for a while, then she noticed him grinning broadly. “Is something amusing to you?”

  “I’m just in a good mood.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said, “but I just feel… invigorated.” He took in the surrounding countryside. “What shall we do now?”

  “What about those ruins you spoke of?” she asked.

  “I thought we were going to go there tomorrow?”

  “But it’s such a lovely day today. Why wait?”

  “Why indeed,” he said. “Very well, let's head north.”

  “Is it easy to find?”

  “Relatively. Those hills to the north are known as Erhard's Folly.”

  “Strange name for hills,” she mused.

  “It is, isn’t it, but for good reason. When the kingdom was first settled, there were still Therengian stragglers hanging around. They made a stand in those hills, or so the story goes.”

  “I take it they lost?”

  “We wouldn’t be here if they’d won,” he said.

  “But I thought these Therengians were mighty warriors?”

  “When their empire was large, they were said to be unmatched, but the Survivor Kingdoms united to defeat them.”

  “Survivor Kingdoms?”

  “Yes, the precursor to what we now call the Petty Kingdoms. Mind you, that wouldn’t have been possible if Therengia hadn’t rotted from within.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “you mentioned that before. I assume that Erhard was their leader?”

  “He was.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He died in those hills,” Ludwig said, “along with every one of his men. They fought to the death, and it’s said that their spirits still haunt the area.”

  “And you believe that?”

  “Strange things have been heard in those parts. Ghosts or not, it’s still a good idea to avoid them.”

  “So then, where are these ruins?”

  “Farther north, in the Wandering Hills.”

  Charlaine chuckled. “Just how many hills do you have around here?”

  “Enough to make things interesting.”

  “These ruins, what are they like?”

  “Maybe ruins is not the right term,” he admitted. “It’s more like an ancient monolith.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s difficult to describe.”

  “Why is that?” she asked.

  “Well, for one thing, it doesn’t appear to have any purpose. It’s essentially one large slab of stone balanced on two vertical stones.”

  “Like an archway?”

  “I suppose it is,” he said, “but it doesn’t lead anywhere.”

  “Maybe it’s magic?” she suggested.

  “If it is, there’s no way for us to know.”

  “How old is it?”

  “No one truly knows, but it’s been here as long as people have. There are references to it from hundreds of years ago.”

  “How do you know it’s Therengian?”

  Ludwig chuckled. “We don’t, really. It's assumed it was made by them because this area was part of their empire.”

  “So it could have been built by someone else.”

  “I suppose, but who would that be?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Elves maybe, or Orcs?”

  “There are no Elves in this part of the Continent, and Orcs are savage beasts, barely able to communicate. You seriously think they’re capable of making such a structure?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it yet, remember?”

  “Sorry. I’m getting a little ahead of myself.”

  “Is that Erhard’s Folly we're coming up on?” Charlaine asked. “Didn't you say it was dangerous?”

  “I said it was haunted,” he clarified, “but don’t worry, we’ll skirt its western end.

  Ludwig led them northwest. It didn't take long before another ridgeline could be seen in the distance.

  “There you are,” he announced. “Those are the Wandering Hills.”

  “And how did they get that name?”

  “The hills meander. People say you could wander in them all day and still not find your way out, but I’ve never found that to be true.”

  “So you’re familiar with them?”

  “I am,” he said. “I’ve ridden up here dozens of times.”

  Charlaine looked around the area. “So, of all the places you could ride, you chose this desolate-looking group of hills?”

  “I do. It allows me time to think.”

  “What does your father think of that?”

  “My father could care less. He’s much too busy to be concerned about my welfare.”

  “I doubt that,” she said. “Parents always care.”

  “Do they?” he replied. “I have my doubts. My father, the baron, doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive. Even his second marriage was carefully arranged.”

  “I take it your mother died?”

  “She did. About ten years ago she fell sick, and there was nothing the healers could do.”

  “Not even the Life Mages?” she asked.

  “Life Mages? We don’t have them here in Hadenfeld.”

  “But surely the Brothers of Saint Mathew could have helped?”

  “They are skilled in medicine,” Ludwig agreed, “but even they couldn’t help her in the end.”

  “May I ask what she died of?”

  “A fever. It spread through the region quickly, killing many. It was speculated that it came from a foreign land.”

  “Maybe that’s why your father doesn’t like me,” Charlaine said.

  “Very likely, now that you mention it. He took her death exceedingly hard.”

  “And yet he remarried?”

  “Yes, to Lady Astrid, but that was an arranged marriage. He married her for her income, and she, in return, got his title.”

  “Do they get along?”

  “Some days, but most of the time, my father likes to keep his own company.”

  “Do you get along with your stepmother?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I get the impression she’s only out for herself. Some days, I can barely stand to be in her presence. It’s not that she’s unkind or anything, but when I’m around her, I feel like…”

  “Like what?”

  “Like an impediment. It's as if I’m merely in her way.”

  “Perhaps you are,” Charlaine suggested. “She likely wants your father’s lands, and you stand to inherit them.”

  “I could forgive that,” he said, “but what really annoys me is my stepbrother, Berthold. She acts like he’s the Saints' gift to us all. He can do no wrong in her eyes.”

  Ludwig glanced over at her, but she was scanning the distant hills.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound bitter,” he said.

  “We all have our burdens to bear.”

  “What about you?” he asked. “Do your parents get along?”

  “Very much so. You’d think they were newly married the way they carry on.”

  “That must be nice.”

  “It can get a little annoying at times, but they both mean well. My mother is far too consumed with my future than she should be, but other than that, I know she loves me.”

  “And your father?”

  “He’s a veritable saint,” she said. “I’ve always gotten along better with him.”

  “Papa’s little girl?”

  “Not so little anymore, and I've had to work hard to apprentice under him.”

  “Was that your choice?”

  “It was,” Charlaine said. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to work metal. I used to watch my father working away at the forge all day. I finally convinced him to let me apprentice under him, but he'
s a hard taskmaster. He said that if he was to take me under his wing, he would treat me as any other student, and he did just that. Mind you, I can’t complain. I love the work.”

  “What would you do if you couldn’t be a smith?” Ludwig asked.

  “Why couldn’t I be a smith?”

  “I don’t know, an injury, maybe?”

  “What type of injury?”

  “I don’t think you quite understand the question. Let me rephrase it. If you could do anything you wanted to, what would you do? Assuming you weren’t a smith, of course.”

  “I don’t know, maybe a warrior?” she mused.

  “You? A warrior?”

  “Yes, does that surprise you?”

  “I suppose it does,” he said. “Women can’t fight.”

  “The Temple Knights of Saint Agnes might disagree with you.”

  “Are you saying you’d take Holy Orders?”

  “I’m quite content being a smith. You’re the one that asked about being something else.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “What about you? If you weren’t a noble, what would you be?”

  “That’s easy,” he said. “I’d be a knight.”

  “That’s not fair,” Charlaine argued. “You’d still have to be a noble.”

  “Very well, a warrior, then.”

  “What type of warrior?”

  “What do you mean, what type?”

  “Horseman? Bowman? Perhaps a foot soldier?”

  “A horseman, naturally,” he said with a smile.

  “There you go again. Using your wealth to make your choices for you.”

  “How do you arrive at that conclusion?”

  “It takes coins to own a horse, you said as much yourself.”

  “I suppose I did,” he confessed. “Still, even the life of a footsoldier holds some appeal.”

  “Why are you so determined to pick a role that requires fighting?”

  “Because I’m good at it!” he burst out, then fell quiet.

  They rode on in silence for a while, but Charlaine realized from the look on Ludwig's face, he was struggling with something.

  “I’m sorry I snapped,” he said, “but the truth is that fighting is all I’m good at.”

  “That can’t be true. You’re the son of a baron.”