The halberds came together with a scrape, and it was clear the guards fully intended to dismiss them, but they were forced to pay attention as shadows wrapped around Pauline’s shoulders like a cloak, and the guards’ eyes widened as an annoyed Tier Three witch revealed herself.
Most of the time, people of a higher rank were careful about how they managed their presence, but when they weren’t, it was a clear warning to be especially cautious not to anger them.
“We’re here on Sanctum business,” she sounded out slowly. “We need to see the Warden.”
“We won’t take more of his time than necessary,” Orion said, though it was more of a hope than a genuine promise. His limited experience with nobles told him this wouldn’t be a quick affair, no matter how much he wanted to return to tinkering.
The taller guard looked at his partner, clearly unsure of what to do. Both were stiff and uneasy under Pauline’s watchful gaze, but they also had a duty to perform. In the end, that duty overcame their instinctive fear.
“Wait here,” the taller guard finally said, leaning on the postern and jerking his chin at a boy lurking just behind the gate. “Joss, go tell the Warden he has visitors.”
The squire bolted across the courtyard.
Orion rocked lightly on his heels, the stone foot making subtle adjustments on the uneven gravel. He ignored the tense silence, watching the banners while his mind noted small details he might have otherwise overlooked, like the fresh lacquer on the gate or the new iron on the hinge.
They must be doing pretty well if they’re handling even minor repairs like this. That’s a good sign, because it means they should have the supplies we need, but it also suggests we won’t be meeting a meek man.
He would prefer not to use his mother’s name as a weapon again, but if the Warden had been the kind of man to open his personal stores without being asked, he would have already done so.
I’ll still try to reason with him, but if he refuses to listen, I’ll have to use any weapon I can to make him.
Minutes passed, and Pauline’s expression grew increasingly strained. The guards’ knuckles tightened on their hafts, growing increasingly anxious that they might have to turn them away, but soon enough, someone else approached. The gate swung open fully as he neared, revealing a young man in much finer clothing, clearly related to the noble house.
“My ladies,” he said, then abruptly corrected himself when he noticed that Orion wasn’t a witch. “My lady. Sir. The Warden will receive you.”
They followed him into a long corridor and through an arch into an open training yard. The rain was blocked by a stretched awning supported by poles, underneath which two boys in padded vests hammered at each other with blunted steel swords.
They were twins, at most fifteen, with their hair pulled back the same way and a matching intensity in their eyes. One pressed in with a quick burst of thrusts, while the other gave ground and created some space with a riposte that would have heavily bruised a less attentive opponent’s ribs.
Orion inspected them, more out of habit than because he thought there was anything interesting. Since discovering the spy in Valderun, he’d been doing it almost constantly, and he’d yet to regret it.
Aren Voss — Heir-apparent
Class: [River Court Squire] [D-rank]
Level: 36
Mind: 56
Attunement: 44
Body: 126
Traits: Basic Flowing Swordplay [D-rank]; Riverfoot [D-rank]; Internal Mana Manipulation [D-rank]
Calen Voss — Second Son
Class: [River Court Squire] [D-rank]
Level: 34
Mind: 52
Attunement: 41
Body: 112
Traits: Basic Flowing Swordplay [D-rank]; Riverfoot [D-rank]; Internal Mana Manipulation [D-rank]
They had solid numbers for boys without a major faction backing them, clearly showing that coming from a noble household could make up for a lot.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
They weren’t prodigies, but they also weren’t rough brawlers, showing that they had received serious instruction. They moved with a looseness that indicated they had learned to fight under any circumstance and knew the other well enough to anticipate most attacks.
The duel dragged on for a while longer, with the elder, Aren, wearing down his brother through sheer stamina rather than skill, as he gained a high bind and forced a clumsy overhead strike into a slip. His own overhead attack followed with surprising force, pushing Calen’s blade down until it touched the packed dirt.
Calen’s knee hit the ground a moment later, unable to support the weight.
“Enough,” a man called, clapping twice.
He stood at the railing like a judge at a tournament, with a slender, refined build, a pencil-thin mustache curved just right, and fine gloves tucked into a belt decorated with tiny silver fish.
His clothes were luxurious yet designed for ease of movement, and his eyes, as he looked at his sons, showed both warmth and judgment.
Orion pushed his glasses back and examined him as well, eager to see what he would discover.
Hadrien Voss — Warden of Last Thaw
Class: [Surging Rapiere] [B-rank]
Level: 116
Mind: 179
Attunement: 512
Body: 811
Traits: Crescendo Thrust [B-rank]; Internal Mana Manipulation [B-rank]; Riverfoot [B-rank]; Master Flowing Swordplay [B-rank];
So that was why Pauline’s shoulders had tensed as they entered: Hadrien Voss was technically stronger than her, based on raw numbers.
He did not have the stats of a witch of the same level, but a third-tier martial class who kept sharpening his skills instead of letting the years dull him was still not someone to dismiss.
Orion had seen several nobles treat power as something that could be bought with the right connections, and they would inevitably run aground once the easy experience gained from paying others to watch over them was gone. This one had earned his power.
The Warden ruffled both boys’ hair equally and sent them off with a word to the master-at-arms before crossing the yard with a smile that showed his pearly white teeth.
“Welcome to House Voss,” he said. “I am Hadrien. Forgive me for the long wait, but I dislike interrupting a match after it’s begun.”
“We appreciate your understanding of our sudden visit,” Pauline said. Her tone was courteous, but the atmosphere around her was tense.
“Come,” Hadrien said lightly, gesturing for them to follow, and led them toward a hall where shutters had been pulled wide to let in the faint gray light from the overcast sky. “You’ve come in just in time to join us for the evening meal. Eat while we talk, or at least have a glass of wine. It’s much warmer in this room, and I won’t have it said that I treated guests from the Sanctum poorly.”
It wasn't so much an offer as an order presented as hospitality, but Orion chose to let it slide, reluctant to challenge the man so quickly.
The table was already set with abundant fish terrines beside platters of buttered carrots and barley, several local cheeses, and wine. Overall, it was a simple spread for a noble, but it was served on good stoneware with the family emblem blazoned on its borders.
A tall woman with streaks at her temples and a warm, evaluating gaze introduced herself as Lady Nessa, and two younger girls curtsied before being sent to the far end of the table, where they giggled among themselves.
Orion picked at his plate, ignoring the glances he received. The stew they had eaten for lunch had been more flavorful, and he wished he could go back there, but he kept his face composed and let Pauline do most of the pleasant talk.
The Warden’s household moved around them seamlessly, serving them wine or water on request and clearing away the plates as needed.
When they finished, and the kids were allowed to leave, Hadrien dabbed his mouth with a napkin, set it down, and tipped his head. “Now. To business.”
“Finally,” Orion muttered, though he didn’t lean forward, not wanting to reveal his impatience. “Last Thaw will need to keep order for a day or two until reinforcements from the Sanctum arrive and let normal operations resume. To get through that period without riots, we need food. I’m asking you to open your reserves and distribute grain and dried goods along the docks and the river quarters.”
The Warden’s smile did not falter, but his eyes tightened a fraction. “That is a practical request.” He steepled his fingers. “And you are…?”
“Orion Voidwalker,” Pauline said before he could. “Son of the Veil Priestess that is currently presiding over the city.”
It was a small pleasure to see the flicker in Hadrien’s eyes, the recalculation. He stood, gave a polite bow that was carefully crafted to avoid submission, and sat back down.
“A pleasure, Master Voidwalker,” he said. “And my congratulations to your mother on her elevation. You must forgive me if I seem unaffected by your proposal. These reserves aren’t a cure for a single day’s troubles, but a safeguard against a season’s disaster. If we open them today, I will leave my people with nothing if the river closes on us in a month. A day or two of pain is acceptable when compared to that risk.”
“There will be more food coming soon with the Sanctum’s contingent,” Orion countered evenly. “We just need to prevent the first crack from widening. Your watch is already flogging people to keep them in line. If you spread a sack of barley per family now, you will prevent fifty from being stolen tomorrow in a riot.”
“I have served through famine.” Hadrien’s voice softened, but it was in no way a concession. “My duty is to look after the well-being of Last Thaw long into the future, and I can tell you that two days aren’t anything to get worked up over. People will eat seaweed and onions for a little while, but they’ll thank us if the situation worsens later.”
Hadrien clearly had no intention of emptying his stores, but he was cloaking the argument in a veneer of reasonableness that made Orion feel a burst of annoyance, yet he pushed it aside.
“We’re not asking you to empty them,” he insisted. “Two days’ worth of allotments shouldn’t do anything of the sort. Visible, regular distribution will do wonders to calm the people, even if it’s just grain and dried fish.”
“I can tell you feel strongly about this,” Hadrien smiled, as if amused at his insistence. “Yes, I was much the same once. But you will be gone in a week, Master Voidwalker. I, on the other hand, will have to bear the consequences when they come, and they will come. No.”
Pauline’s chair creaked. Orion sensed the tension in the room build, and he put his hand flat on the tabletop to prevent it from clenching.
“You’re refusing a request made in the Sanctum’s name,” she said. “This is not a whim of ours, I assure you.”
Hadrien tilted his head, still polite, but no less giving. “I am refusing a poorly timed request. If it were truly an order from the Veil Priestess, I would of course follow it, but she isn’t here, and while the young master might be her son, he does not have her authority, nor do you, unless things have changed quite a bit within the coven.”
He didn’t even try to weigh the costs of the matter, just taking it as a personal issue.
Pauline pushed her chair back and stood up. “This is no longer a request,” she said.
“By the authority of the Sanctum and under the seal of the Moon Mother,” she growled, “in the name of Veil Priestess Asteria Voidwalker, you will open House Voss’s larders to the people of Last Thaw. Distribution will start within the hour at the lower docks, under the militia's oversight. You will also show us your tallies so that I might check nothing is being withheld, and you will do this for two days. If you refuse, you will answer for it.”
enjoy the story and would like to read more, are available on my .
