The Hunt for the Three Roses

by Jason Hubbard

  He also noticed an abundance of women and children on the streets. Men weren’t completely absent, but they were usually in their golden years or barely old enough to lift a sword. Many of Asturia’s able-bodied men had been conscripted into the army, leaving wives and offspring behind to fend for themselves. Women weren’t prohibited from fighting in Lonsaran, but nonetheless army recruiters preferred to take men for their natural body strength.

  After the carriages separated from the delivery vehicles, they arrived at the count’s city home. Fortunately it was solitary but was smaller than Sean expected, with two stories that barely met the minimum height standard and an eastern wing that housed a common living space for guards and servants. It had a backyard of an adequate size for gatherings and battle-training, and a sturdy perimeter wall of red brick topped with steel pickets.

  The count was immediately greeted by his wife, Amber, who ran out in a red taffeta dress, her black hair tied up in a bun. It was a heartwarming sight: a tight squeeze followed by a passionate kiss that spoke of long lonely nights full of worry. There was also the count’s golden-haired sister-in-law, Margaret, who greeted him cordially and gave a hug that seemed full of warmth and relief. She had long since received the news of her husband’s passing and had plenty of time to cope; Sean didn’t see her becoming a problem in the coming days, but then, he was not always a good judge of character.

  “Sean, this is Richard Brown, your new master,” Count Guyver said, gesturing to a fortyish man with graying black hair and beard stubble, clad in a dark robe with decorative purple lines along the hems. He had sharp and astute brown eyes that were cornered with laugh lines as he shook Sean’s hand, and he welcomed his new apprentice with an eagerness to have another mage for company. Sean said a silent prayer of thanks for having a new tutor who was not a cranky pain in the ass like Master Harris.

  Callie meanwhile was presented to the house’s guard captain, who gave her a leather tunic and a half-helm. Since the house needed more archers, she was told to practice with a bow and arrows in the yard after she got something to eat. It wasn’t exactly her dream job, but it beat milking cows, and she got on well enough with her new fellows. The only bad thing was that her room was very small, plus she had to share it with another woman. Back when she lived in a cottage with Olivia’s family, she didn’t know how good she had it.

  She practiced her archery for about an hour with three other guards when Sean appeared. “Hello, Callie, the count just sent a missive to the palace; we should head there tomorrow just before noon. Ladies Amber and Margaret have agreed to help you dress for the occasion.”

  Callie smiled and nodded, though she rolled her eyes when Sean wasn’t looking. No doubt she wouldn’t be allowed to wear trousers to the palace.

  Sean laid a pail filled with arrows on a nearby table. “I enchanted these for everyone to practice with. Try them!”

  She picked out an arrow and fitted it on her bowstring. “How does it work?”

  “The enchantment works with your hand-eye coordination. All you have to do is look at precisely what you want to hit and release the arrow in the general direction.”

  She did so, training her eye directly on the center of the bullseye twelve meters away. The arrow tip miraculously—or rather, magically—embedded itself into the block of hay beneath the innermost circle. She tried it again, aiming for different points around the bullseye, and she hit each one without fail. On her fourth try, she aimed for the center again, and the arrow joined her first only a finger’s width away. “Wow, that is pretty damn good!”

  “It should work up to twenty meters, maybe less,” Sean said, sounding proud of himself as he watched the other guards do just as well with his arrows. “And they only work on stationary targets since they can’t change path in midair. But that shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?”

  “Yes. But honestly, I’d rather practice without enchantments—at least for today.”

  “But these are for you to keep. You can put them in your quiver, so why not practice with them?”

  “Because, Sean … you can’t rely on magic all the time. It can be stopped by negating crystals, or it can work a little too well. I should develop my natural skills, without magic.”

  “You sound like my father,” Sean said with crossed arms. “If I had done everything he told me to do … well, the count would probably be dead, and you would be worse off.”

  Callie clucked her tongue. “Don’t you remember Dan telling you the same thing? You can’t always rely on magic to get you out of tough scrapes.”

  Sean glared at her a moment before turning to leave. “You’re welcome, by the way, for giving you something that may save your life someday.”

  Callie stubbornly went back to using unenchanted arrows, and while her results were not as precise, she thought she improved her skills over time. She thought about apologizing to Sean, if only to make their trip tomorrow less awkward, but decided against it. He needed to learn that magic couldn’t be a solution to every problem. It made one needy and sloppy, and there were effective methods of counteracting it.

  Still, as she witnessed some of her arrows fly off course due to wind, she had to admit that one of Sean’s arrows could give help when she most needed it.

  Just after ten the next morning, Sean, Jonas and Count Guyver anxiously awaited by the front gate, the horses for their carriage stamping their hooves impatiently. The men wore trendy outfits they had picked out last night, when a butler escorted them to the city’s swanky shopping district. Sean had on a brown woolen swallow-tailed jacket with a black waistcoat and button-down shirt underneath, and a purple tulip bud spun from fine silk tucked into his breast pocket. Jonas wore the same, except with a black jacket and a blue waistcoat.

  “How much longer will it be?” Jonas whined.

  “Until Callie is ready, not a minute before,” Sean chided.

  “I’m tempted to go in myself and tell them to hurry,” the count said.

  “Will you have them arrested if they don’t?” Jonas asked. The count gave him a strange look, and Sean shrugged his shoulders at him in apology.

  After a small age had passed, Callie finally exited the house, followed by Ladies Amber and Margaret who continued to fuss over her, giving her last-minute pointers. “Remember to never, ever look at someone’s clothes while they are talking to you,” Margaret said.

  “And keep your head and eyesight level,” Amber added. “Don’t stare at the floor unless you might trip on something.”

  “And if your dress needs a fix, don’t do it in front of others. That would be the height of insecurity.”

  “Yes, I know, I know,” Callie said. “I’ll keep everything in mind.”

  As she stepped through the gate, Sean found himself at a loss for words. He had seen her in a dress several times before, first when they went to a cathedral in St. Mannington, and a few nights ago at dinner … but this was something else. She had on a button-down velvet top as green as summer grass, with sleeves that went to the middle of her forearms and a ruffled white camisole underneath. The top hugged her hips to conceal the fastenings of her skirts, which were dotted with emerald blossoms. Her lips were the color of red roses, and a light touch of purple mascara accentuated her already-lovely eyes. Her hair was worn loosely except for two braided locks that joined together in a green clasp just above her neck. Two diamonds encased in gold hung from her lobes, and her throat bore a string of pearls plus a gold necklace adorned with cat’s eyes and corals.

  “You look stunning, my dear,” the count said. “You’ll be the envy at court.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Callie said, and she curtsied as well as any noblewoman, with a slight bend at the waist and one foot in front of the other.

  Remembering his manners, Sean lifted his slacken jaw and tried on a small smile. “Yes, you look lovely, Callie. Uh, ladies first.” He gestured to the c
arriage door held open by the coachman.

  “Thank you,” she said, and she fingered his silk tulip with a sly smile before stepping inside.

  As Jonas hurried in with a child’s awkward grace, Sean shut his eyes and told himself to calm down. Remember what you’re doing, just taking Jonas to the palace. Callie’s only along for the ride … no matter how she looks. God save me.

  The carriage was soon underway, with Callie sitting across Sean and Jonas. Count Guyver did not accompany them as he didn’t want to take credit for finding Jonas and keeping him safe. As the vehicle rattled on across uneven flagstones, neither Sean nor Callie apologized for yesterday’s argument, yet they had a lively discussion as if nothing ill had happened.

  “You can never have too many lessons on etiquette, I suppose. Do you still remember mine?” Sean asked, referring to the lessons he gave during the trip to the city.

  “Yes. Basically, all I have to do is curtsy, curtsy, and then curtsy some more,” Callie said wickedly, lifting a pinch of her outermost skirt with each “curtsy.”

  They both broke into amused grins. “Well, if that’s all you remember, you may as well dig me an early grave,” Sean said.

  The passengers chuckled except for Jonas, who turned to Sean in alarm. “A grave? Why do you need that? Is something bad gonna happen?”

  “No, it’s just an expression,” Sean said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m just teasing her. I’m saying I might die of mortification, which is an exaggeration.”

  “But you can’t die from that, and death is not funny.”

  Sean spread his hands as if to say, “I got nothing.”

  “Yes, death isn’t funny, Jonas,” Callie said. “It’s scary, and we mock it sometimes because it’s scary and unavoidable.”

  “Oh,” was all Jonas said, and he looked out the window as if leaving the grownups in the cabin to talk amongst themselves, since he couldn’t understand them anyway.

  After an hour of traveling through densely packed city blocks, they crossed the Lorenshal River where they had their first view of the Royal Palace. Even from a distance, Sean could tell it wasn’t as large as King Hugo’s castle in St. Mannington, but its architecture was more impressive. “There it is,” he said. “Master Cypher and I want you to be safe, Jonas. There’s no better place for you than in the palace. You’ll be far from the war and want for nothing.”

  “If you say so,” Jonas muttered, gazing at the palace a little fearfully.

  “We’ll have to say our final farewell very soon,” Callie said. “It’s been very good to know you, Jonas.”

  “We might see each other again,” Sean said, patting his charge’s shoulder. “If Count Guyver has business there and needs me along, I’ll ask about you.”

  “We will,” Jonas said in a half-whisper, emotion chocking his voice. “I don’t want us to, but we will.”

  Sean glanced at Callie, startled. “What do you mean? Did you have another vision?”

  Jonas didn’t respond, only kept his face turned to his window. Out of respect for their friend, Sean and Callie decided not to pry, allowing the cabin to fall into solemn silence.

  For about thirty minutes, they traveled through sparsely populated countryside until they arrived at the front gates of the palace’s perimeter wall, which rose forty meters high and was around five meters thick. The coachman gave the guards a letter from the count asking permission for entry, and after a quick search of the carriage, the guards allowed them through. The passengers were then treated to the sight of the palace’s gardens, which had lost their splendor since summer’s end yet still made for an impressive array. Pristine green fields were dotted with grand weeping willows, magnolias, and apple and cherry trees, their leaves withering in October’s chill. Beside the trees were pedestrian walkways and lunch tables, plus fountains topped with angelic statues from which sparrows and crows drank. Along the road were broad arrangements of flowering plants and shrubs, most of which were laid bare from the coming winter.

  The palace itself was more imposing than Sean had thought it’d be, making him feel as small and insignificant as an ant. It consisted of three buildings made of cream marble and brick, with windows of a strikingly sharp design. On the left was the ballroom, and on the right was the casino; beyond them was the main building for dwellings and offices. It was generally rectangular with ten guard towers intersecting the façade and two grand towers sprouting from the center which contained rookeries and special guestrooms.

  After traveling across a circular roadway, the carriage stopped at a valet station where the passengers were greeted by a banner guard, identified by their silver shoulder pads, decorative breastplates, and helmets with plumes of white feathers. As soon as Jonas exited the vehicle, he was approached by a sorcerer with long, mangy dark hair interlaced with white strands, clad in a gold and purple robe with some kind of fur on the hems that Sean couldn’t identify. Lion, perhaps.

  “There he is!” the sorcerer said with constrained excitement, his face beaming. He lightly touched Jonas’ cheeks and shoulders as if the man was a prized dog. “Alpha, we’ve been so worried about you! You’re very lucky to make it back in one piece. You must tell us everything that’s happened to you—everything!”

  The sorcerer then not so much as led Jonas as he did force him away, making him walk to the main building with a formation of guardsmen marching closely on either side. Jonas was barely able to look back at Sean and Callie, who sadly waved goodbye.

  “He called him ‘Alpha?’” Callie half-whispered. Sean merely shrugged and gazed at the departing procession with uncertain eyes. He suddenly had a bad feeling about this situation. Perhaps this was not the best place for Jonas after all, judging from how that sorcerer took possession of the nervous man like a hunter to trapped prey. The sorcerer had a kind face with dimpled cheeks and a round chin, but there was a wild look in his eyes that Sean cared for not one bit.

  Lyco … he reminds me of Lyco, the slavemaster from Clan Selmas. He shivered and tightened his hands into fists to keep him from running after the man.

  “I take it you are Master Sean and Lady Calista?” said a guard captain who had stayed behind with several subordinates.

  Sean couldn’t help but gulp before speaking. Saying that the captain was a large man was an understatement. The man was huge, enormous. He looked as if he lifted fifty kilos everyday and ate protein as how a fish drank water, and he had a voice like a large canine, deep and throaty. “I’m, uh … I’m a mage’s apprentice, actually. Name’s Sean McAlister, um, sir.” He timidly offered his hand and was quietly relieved when the captain didn’t crush it.

  “I am indeed Lady Calista, sir, retainer to Count Erik Guyver. Charmed to meet you.” She made a curtsy, and Sean was impressed by how she didn’t lean over too far, nor did she make the greeting too short or too long. If she could master a curtsy already, there was hope that she would do well at court.

  “Greetings. I am Captain Victor Sutton of the Second Arm of the Royal Guard.”

  Sean widened his eyes at the name, for Victor was one of the two men Master Cypher suggested he meet. The captain was about to speak further until Callie interjected. “Captain, I did not like how that man took Jonas away without us saying a final farewell. It was, er … it was the height of rudeness! Who was he, anyway?”

  “My apologies, madam. That was Master Burnes, one of the three royal sorcerers. When he sees something he wants, he tends to zone out and ignore everyone around him. He meant no offense.” Captain Sutton rolled open a parchment and eyed its writings. “I have a message from the King: ‘Master Sean and Lady Calista, you are cordially invited to dinner in His Majesty’s private dining room. You shall have the upmost honor of being received by King Paulson Daniel Deblaise, so please see that you are dressed for the occasion.’ First, I shall take you to the royal tailor for assessment. If you would follow me, please.”

&n
bsp; Sean hesitated for but a second, surprised that the King wanted to see them. He had expected some kind of reward, but he didn’t think King Paulson would get personally involved. He worried Callie might somehow offend the King with her underlying disdain for nobility, but there was no stopping this meeting. He would just have to trust Callie not to go too far in being prideful.

  The captain took his guests down the avenue to the main building, strolling across flagstones meticulously cut and arranged in alternating spiral patterns and hard angles. Dozens of noblemen and -women stared at them, taking in every detail so they could gossip about them later. Sean noted a few looks of disgust and jealousy, but most were merely curious and delighted to have a distraction from daily routine.

  Callie seemed uncomfortable having so many discerning eyes around her, but she smiled when she caught his gaze. “You know, I’m going to miss how Jonas can suck the fun out of every joke,” she said. Sean chuckled and gave her a playful shove.

  A frightful squeal rent the air as the entrance opened, the cherry-wood double doors seemingly made for a giant. In the main hall, the former Consarians marveled at the inventive architecture and gorgeous furnishings: tables and chairs with gold paint, tapestries with elaborate scenes of love and war, pristine portraits of rulers long past, and a checkerboard marble floor so smooth and clear it cast a reflection like a still lake surface.

  They entered a room on the second floor where the King’s tailor—a short man with a small mustache—looked over the guests with a critical eye and shook his head. Not wanting to keep the King waiting, he quickly snatched away Sean’s brown jacket and replaced it with a black one with dangling coattails, and the silk tulip Callie had liked was swapped for a pin with three sapphires and a diamond. Callie’s jewelry was replaced with a large multi-layered gold necklace with a variety of jewels and an emerald-adorned choker. She was also wrapped in a light-green corset which Callie made clear she absolutely hated.