Fafnir could not openly exile the brothers, not after all they had done for the city, but Corbin did not need to know that. The sooner the rabble-rouser was out of his hair the better, in one day he had taken several of the magistrate’s collectors off the streets, planted the seed of revolution for the Grey Alley merchants, and taken down two watchmen. He needed to move quickly before word of this reached Lady Cassandra. If she found out what happened the night before, she would be parading Logan around as a hero against “local corruption,” by the week’s end. Moreover, Fafnir could ill afford that kind of attention right now. The carriage came to a jerking halt, leaving them sitting in silence. A rap on the door announced they had reached their destination.
“I understand, sir, you are clearly going out of your way to protect him. I offer you my sincerest gratitude and promise we shall be leaving on the morrow.” Corbin vowed, as he stepped out into the dim daylight, before a low gray stone building sticking out from the wall. This was a section of the city that was directly attached to the massive cavern, a good place providing the natural barrier needed to prevent the inmates from escaping. Three guards escorted his older brother from the detention center, one of them shoving him hard into the street with the butt his spear.
Logan staggered forward a few steps then looked as though he had a mind to go back and teach the guard a lesson, but before he could move to action Corbin roughly snatched his forearm.
“Knock it off. Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” he chastised, turning him about to lead away from the men, who laughed as they were going back inside.
Logan turned to meet his brother’s accusation. “You cannot be serious, I spent all night in this hell hole and that’s how you greet me?!” he snapped, in no mood for his younger brother’s righteous indignation.
“Seriously Logan, after what you did to those men, you have the nerve to complain about being in a cell for one night?” Corbin barked right back at him, pointing at the jail over his shoulder.
“What would you know of it? You should have seen the kid.” Logan tried to explain.
“Save the disgusting details for someone who cares, this time you went too far. You bring great shame to our village and to our family.” He scolded, while Logan shook his head staring at the ground over his words.
“Who asked you to come down here, anyhow? I was completely fine without your help!” Logan’s frustration had him fumbling for the right words.
Behind them, the magistrate had climbed out of his carriage, and was now standing at their side with his hands folded. “Ahem.” He cleared his throat, interrupting their childish bickering and demanding their attention. “That would be me, young man.” He spoke each word with emphasis and a bone chilling tone, letting Logan know he should be showing gratitude, and also making it clear to him that he was a dangerous man who would not be trifled with.
“This is Magistrate Fafnir, he is releasing you into my custody, and we owe him a great debt of gratitude.” Corbin explained, speaking formally, as if he were introducing royalty, though all Logan saw was a snake.
“Hmmm…I see...well that’s great, you’re exactly the man I wanted to talk to. Do you know what your people are subjecting citizens to in there, and what about those imbeciles last night? I want to press charges against…” he began, cut off by one of Fafnir’s guards coming up to whisper in his ear. The magistrate silenced Logan with an upraised hand, listening to his man with a furrowed brow. Corbin groaned, not believing how his brother could be so disrespectful toward the very man who had just come to his rescue. Once the guard was finished, Fafnir mumbled some orders and addressed them again.
“I am fully aware of the entire situation that played out last night, Logan Walker. Everything is currently being dealt with and you are free to go.” Fafnir cut him off before he could begin again. “Now then, gentlemen, if there is nothing further, I will take my leave, the day is young, and there are many affairs of the state to see to yet.” He turned his back to them.
Corbin let out the air in his lungs, realizing he had been holding his breath, worried that Logan would say the wrong thing to the great nobleman, sending himself back into the detention center. He moved to direct Logan, who was visibly worked up over being ignored, back down the street.
“Actually Corbin, there is one other thing.” Fafnir stopped, looking over his shoulder from the carriage steps.
“Yes, milord?” he asked.
“There will be a gala held tonight at the House of Ciotti, in honor of Fal’s victory over the wretched skex attack. We would be honored to have the both of you attend.” He explained.
“No my liege, it is we who are honored by your generous invitation.” Corbin replied, as his brother rolled his eyes, annoyed to be playing royal tea with the corrupt lawman.
“My men will send the invitation to your apartment.” He informed, disappearing into the carriage, which was already rolling away before the door closed.
“Well, that was odd.” Corbin said, wondering what made the man change his mind about them leaving the city post haste.
Logan looked down at the coins the magistrate had secretly placed in his hand. “Not as much as you may think brother. It’s this place that’s odd, not that man. Actually he fits right in around here.” He grumbled under his breath, wondering what news the guard had delivered to make the magistrate offer up the invitation.
Chapter 11
Lady Penelope had lavishly decorated her palace for the evening’s festivities. Marble columns dotted the perimeter of the large ballroom, reaching high up to the arched ceiling, circled by colorful streamers. Glistening polished tiles covered the floor, creating a mirror image of the large gathering. On either side of the area, temporary bars were setup, attended by men in suspenders and starched white collared shirts, busy dispensing drinks to the guests. Logan noticed the bottles they poured looked suspiciously similar to some he had seen at the Grey Crow. Waitresses were traveling through the crowd, carrying trays of delicacies. A small platform had been setup at the far end of the room, where the band played, while a tall, slender woman with scarlet hair sang. The gala was alive with the sounds of chatter and clinking glasses, as the capitol’s elite celebrated.
“This is a joke, we do not belong here.” Logan remarked to his brother as they made their way down the wide marble steps into the party.
“Yes, so you have already said several times. Fix your tie and try to behave properly for one night.” Corbin ordered him, like a child who had already been warned not to misbehave. He had quite enough of his brother’s complaining, and made it perfectly clear earlier that they would attend the gala out of respect to the magistrate, who went out of his way to get Logan released from jail. It had been a little surprising when they returned to the apartment above the wood mill, and found suits waiting inside. Once they were dressed, Logan made a point to tell his brother how stuffy he looked in an evening jacket.
“I think we look fine, this is the way they do things in the city.” He defended the attire, even though it did make him feel silly.
“Oh no, I look great, the ladies are going to eat me up tonight little brother. But you look hilarious.” One of the younger noblewomen walking by lustfully gave him a head to toe approval, proving his point. He looked over at Corbin, comically wiggling his eyebrows, full of himself at that moment. “What did I tell ye, eh bro, they love it.” he teased.
“Logan please, just stay low-key tonight, that’s all I’m asking.” Corbin whined.
“What little faith you have, I’m the king of low-key tonight. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to mingle.” Logan replied, winking at his brother and quickly slipping into the crowd before he could think to protest.
Before Corbin could move to follow, Magistrate Fafnir beckoned from a nearby group. Not wanting to be rude, he headed over with due haste, entering the small gathering. “Well lad, I see you got the suit I had sent over.” Fafnir beamed, happy to see the man dres
sed in his attire, everyone at the gala would be discreetly talking about how he wore Fafnir’s colors, stitched into the shoulders of the jacket.
“Yes, Magistrate, you have my deepest gratitude.” He replied, bowing formally to the man. “This was too kindly a gesture; I will need to repay you in some way.”
“Hardly necessary, after all, you are one of Fal’s greatest heroes. If we can’t spare a little civilized society for you, then we are all much worse off than we thought.” The men and woman standing with Fafnir laughed, although the joke was lost on Corbin.
“What a dreadful experience it must have been for you, facing all those vile beasts outside the city walls.” An old aristocrat with an overly nasal voice asked him. Corbin was not sure what the decorum in a situation like this would be, was he allowed to address his betters? Did the man really want a response, or would he embarrass the magistrate by speaking out of turn? Fafnir liked the young man’s eagerness to do the proper thing; he could see the boy struggling with his words.
“Where are my manners? Madame and Monsieur’s, may I formally introduce you to Corbin Walker of Riverbell, the hero of Fal.” He said with a grand flourish of his bony arms, waving his intricately carved cane in the air.
“Corbin, lad, this is the Lady Aurelia, Lord Joseph Brussel, and his son, Sir Todrick Brussel.” He introduced, pointing to each in turn with the cane’s tip then nudging Corbin to respond.
“Pleased to meet, your lordships,” he said nervously, producing another half bow, which Lady Aurelia found deeply amusing in a charming provincial manner.
“Well, I don’t want to be rude, I see you were in the middle of a discussion before I came over and interrupted.” Corbin tried to excuse himself, breaking the moment of awkward silence.
“Nonsense, my good man,” Sir Joseph brushed away the notion, “we were just in the middle of a debate on the Great Crystal, and thought you could provide a novel perspective.” The man draped his arm around Corbin, reeling him back into the gathering.
“Uh, I’m not sure I can offer a different perspective.” He stammered, but the man only smiled swirling his drink.
“Todrick here was just claiming that some of the younger citizens have turned away from the All-Father’s path.” Magistrate Fafnir explained.
Corbin arched an eyebrow in disbelief, back home everyone in the village was deeply devoted to their god the Great Crystal, Baetylus. It was a way of life for his people. On every third day of the week, all would gather in the village circle to pray in supplication just at dawn. He would often find himself deep in meditation, trying to commune with the All-Father, and never a meal passed without someone thanking Baetylus for his blessings. The notion that people in the capitol would be straying from the path of righteousness was so alien to him, you might as well have asked him if walking upside down was better in water. “Sir, I find that hard to believe, certainly we have not fallen that far astray from the enlightenment of Baetylus.” He answered, with the firm conviction only one of faith could possess.
“You see Todrick, Corbin here is all the way from Riverbell and he is still devout.” Lady Aurelia smugly proclaimed, revealing he was not alone in his steadfast beliefs here.
“He is an exception to what is happening out there in the lower levels.” The younger aristocrat was frustrated that he could not get through to these people. Straightening his small wire frame spectacles, he snatched an hors d’oeuvre off a passing tray, nibbling the pastry with impatience.
“Hmmm...yes...ahem...Todrick may be hitting on some truth here, Fafnir.” His father added, clearing his throat to take the attention off his son’s tantrum.
“Sometimes I wonder if the poor look for reasons to disagree with us, just for the sake of being contrite.” Lady Aurelia superficially pouted.
Corbin could not believe what he was hearing, how could these nobles actually think there were people in Acadia that did not worship the Great Crystal? The magistrate had been watching his reactions closely, and could see his absolute faith in their god in the pained expression of disbelief painted across his face. He wondered if the young man was in actual physical distress over the idea.
“If you will excuse us for a moment.” He ushered Corbin away, toward the center of the room. Leaning in with both hands on his cane, he spoke a little lower. “I can see their doubt shocks you.” Corbin nodded silently in agreement.
“I have no doubt in your faith to our Lord above, Corbin. Would that everyone your age had it still, nay, of late there have been many whispers of a group in the capitol trying to convert others to their way of thinking. It is sad to think that there are so many straying from the path.” He said, letting the words hang out there for others around them to hear.
“I don’t know what to say Magistrate; I wish I could help in some way.” Corbin lamented, really racking his brain trying to come up with a solution.
“Just your devotion to the All-Father is help enough, lad. It shows me that even in the far reaches of New Fal, a little village like Riverbell can still keep the kingdom’s beliefs strong.” He clapped Corbin’s shoulder with his bony little hand then turned him slightly to face the stage. “Speaking of which, it appears our other guest of honor has arrived.”
Corbin directed his gaze to where the magistrate’s cane was pointing, over the crowd, to the end of the room. On the stage was a man much taller than anyone he had met before, wearing a white tunic and some finely stitched matching breeches that both had detailed gold thread embroidery along the edges, running over the neckline and back. He raised his hands high in the air and gathered everyone’s attention.
The speaker was bald like Fafnir, but in a cleaner, more refined way, except his thick white moustache that curled slightly at its ends, which was more playful than serious. He did not ask anyone to stop speaking, nor did he need to, for as soon as Arch Councilor Zacharia took the stage the massive ballroom fell silent, even the clinking sounds of glassware and plates were hushed.
Corbin had never seen Arch Councilor Zacharia before, but there was no mistaking whom this great leader was, his very eyes conveyed power, the pale blue circles seeming to glow in the candle light of the chandeliers.
“Honored most esteemed citizens of Fal; it warms my heart to be here with you this evening. With both great joy and humble sorrow, I stand here before you. Just two short weeks ago, we faced a threat that surely could have decimated our entire civilization. During that siege upon our great city we witnessed the very best Fal has to offer. I ask you, when we were face-to-face with death, did we cower into the night?” his voice boomed across the gathering, carrying over the heads of the guests and surrounding them with his presence.
The room filled with the fervent response of everyone, simultaneously proclaiming “No!”
“Did we roll over, and let the insect horde destroy everything Falians worked so hard to build?!” he asked, his voice rising higher than before.
“No!”
“No….no, we did not. On that night many of our citizens gave their lives, to keep the dream of New Fal alive, and we will forever hold their sacrifice in our hearts.” Arch Councilor Zacharia bowed his head, sharing the grief he felt.
“Our own Elder Alan Alderman gave his very life essence to overthrow the vile skex horde. Our dearest, Elder Morgana Ellano, leader of Riverbell, lost her life in the first insect attack, defending her people unto her dying breath.” He let the words hang out there, wrapping around the crowd, settling into their thoughts.
“I would ask a moment of silence, in their memory, to think our kind thoughts and offer prayer toward their afterlife in the great light of Baetylus.” The room was quiet as anything Corbin had ever witnessed, and he closed his eyes remembering sweet Elder Morgana, the woman who had taken him and Logan in, raising them like her own children. He silently thanked Baetylus for guiding her into the afterlife, having faith that the Crystal could hear his thoughts.
“We owe much gratitude to your gift of
survival Morgana and Alan. May you forever be at peace.” Arch Councilor Zacharia spoke to the sky.
“May you bathe in the great light.” The crowd, as one, chanted in response.
“Today, we also come together to honor some of our living citizens. Without them, many of us would not be here to tell this tale today. These men need no introduction, as you have all heard the story of their perilous journey to warn us of the oncoming assault! Please join me in formally recognizing the Falian Heroes of Riverbell, Logan and Corbin Walker!” The arch councilor waved his left hand directly at Corbin and his right hand directly to Logan. The crowd turned to face the young men, surrounding them inside circles of applause. As much as Logan was beginning to despise these aristocrats, he could see their gratitude was genuine, and could not help the cocky smile that spread across his face.
“Gentlemen, we salute your bravery. The village of Riverbell has long been an asset to the Kingdom of New Fal; many of us use their furs or crops. They took a heavy toll in the aftermath of the skex raid, so today we would like to introduce you to Riverbell’s new leader, who has been groomed for this task under the late Elder Morgana all her life, and is ready to face the challenges that are to come. Please join me in welcoming Elise Ivarone, who as of today, is to be given the title Madame Elise.” Arch Councilor Zacharia moved to the side so Elise could step forward, her pale skin radiating in the light of the nearby sconces.
She stood there in a fine blue silk dress that made her eyes glow, with elaborately stitched golden branches and leaves reaching from the floor up to her slender waist. Her hair was braided to the sides of her head, with rich blonde curls falling in front her bare shoulders. Logan’s jaw dropped and he looked around to see if his brother was seeing the same thing! Corbin watched her gracefully walk past Arch Councilor Zacharia in a trance; it was as if he were viewing a goddess brought to life, because for him he surely was. Elise held her chin up properly, as she had been taught by her mentor Elder Morgana, and cordially greeted the swelling crowd, a group much larger than any she had ever seen before, with as much confidence as she could muster, feeling grateful for the cumbersome dress’ ability to hide her shaking legs.
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