On the balcony at the end of the hall, King Karim stood among members of his court, including the head of the Northern Coven. His eyes, however, had long strayed from the conversation.
His gaze tracked the young king in the distance, curiosity piqued by the boy's quiet pacing. He had seen him approach the Hohenbergs and he felt so much disappointment. The boy is forcing my hand, he thought. He has come to know the boy is not stupid, he should know he can't be silent this time around.
Karim didn't interfere, he just watched. It didn't seem like anything could go wrong, and soon he realize he was not the only person who was watching the boy. They all said nothing, but they didn't have to say a thing. He could hear what was on their mind.
After a quick chat, the boy walked away from the Hohenbergs. He didn't walk far, then he stopped. Immediately, a large spell circle appeared under his feet, and in the next second he was gone.
Karim was stunned, left eyebrow perked up, despite himself. He silently turned to the witch by his side for clarity but found her wide-eyed and mouth agape.
"Can you do that?" he asked quietly.
"No" she replied, voice barely a whisper.
Of the two covens, only the ancient witches of the Southern Coven were said to surpass her power—and even then, not by much. So her saying no, to something he witnessed a young witch do, was confusing.
"He shouldn't be able to do that" she added, still staring at the space, as if trying to understand the trick involved. "That's from the highest levels of spells."
"How is that different from the warp gate?" King Karim asked. "Is it that you don't have the spells for this?"
She looked away from the space, though still very confused.
"It is not about the spells" she said, almost frustrated at her confusion. "If we have the spells we can say it, but we lack the authority and mana to make it work"
"With the gates we needed assistance from the dwarves and gnomes" she added, "and even that requires many witches"
Without another word, she turned and hurried off the balcony. Karim followed her with his eyes as she rushed to the spot where the young Dragonhart had vanished. He watched her crouch, inspecting the ground.
Even from this far, he saw the faint smoke curl from the ground, but quickly dissipated. It happened again, and a third time to her utmost bewilderment. And his too. He knew the spell she was attempting, he had seen her use it several times before. She said it was a re-trace of the mana used, in order to identify the spell casted. He had never seen it fail before. After the smoke, there should have been a dull light, glowing on the ground.
She tried again. And again she failed.
┌─────── ♕ ───────┐
The pain hit Marit hard, sharp and sudden, making her clench her teeth to keep from crying out. The women around her leaned in, murmuring old prayers of plea to the spirits as she arched her back and gripped the sheets. Childbirth was the dominant cause of deaths amongst female barbarians. The pain is so unbearable, and the tales even worse, which is why most women only bore one child. Few dared a second. No one ever tried for a third. Marit was strong, but this pain humbled her. "Push, Marit, push now, and the child will come safely." the old midwife, Ma Helga, spoke clearly and steadily.
Marit sobbed, her body trembling, then screamed through the agony. She clutched the arm of the woman beside her and stared into her face with sweat-soaked desperation. "Where the fuck is Mogens?!"
She screamed again, putting everything she had into the push. Her body felt like it was tearing in two.
There was a moment of silence—then a soft wail. Marit wept too as Ma Helga fetched the child. She wept, not because of the receding pain and trauma of childbirth, but of a broken heart. It hurt her so much and she didn't know how to deal with it than to cry. And cry she did as the entire castle rang with celebration.
┌─────── ♕ ───────┐
At the same time, in the king's castle, Mogens was still dealing with the Barbarians from Elgwood, even this late at night when he could barely keep his eyes open.
"Why did you stop scribbling?!" one of the Barbarians slammed on the table, jolting him as he was about to doze off.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes as he began to write again.
They were crowded around him, their voices overlapped in a chaotic din. He didn't bother trying to coordinate them again, he has being doing that all night. He has given up on correcting them, and just focuses on the ones he thought came first.
"What did you say about the men again?" he asked tiredly.
"How many times must I repeat it?!" the woman snapped.
He sighed, sliding her codex aside and reaching for a fresh one. Pointing to a man nearby, he said, "You start."
"What are you doing?" the woman barked, incensed.
"You're not ready," Mogens replied softly. "I'll move on until you are."
Her glare could've burned through metal, but the room erupted as others shouted, claiming he'd pointed at them. Fists flew between two barbarians, and Mogens dragged a hand across his face, frustration mounting.
He grew up amongst barbarians, they are his people so he was use to their unruly and often unhinged behaviors that seem to come natural to them, but these ones were savages in comparison. Everyone of them looked like untamed beasts that had little impulse control and would rip his head off for the slightest provocation.
"Why not finish with her then you start tomorrow when you have properly rested?" came a civilized voice from behind him.
He turned and was surprised to find that it belonged to a barbarian. She was dressed in gold and she seemed grown.
Every single one of them wanted to be done with their customs, or get a start since it could take days, and then go back home. It has cost Mogens sleepless nights, so he had already ruled out sleeping tonight. He also believed he needed the distraction, but hearing suggestion of rest from one of them made him think it was the right way to go about it. Especially from one with warm, smiling face.
"...so when the boys have seen their 100th moon they must be sent to the forests to..."
He closed the codex and returned to the woman's.
"Sorry" he apologized to the man who he had pointed. Who had been listing out his customs.
Mogens began turning the pages of the woman when the barbarian lunged, knocking the codex from Mogens' hand and yanking him across the table by his shirt. "Scribble, wall-born, or I'll pound your head to paste!"
This wasn't the first time one of them was doing something like this to him, and despite the fact that he grew up in an environment where any little play would see him bed-ridden for weeks, his heart raced. He kept his face calm, but if the barbarian listen carefully he could hear the little man's heart pounding.
"I always wondered how my father died." the female barbarian behind him said casually. "I wonder if this is enough to let me witness it"
Mogens didn't know what she was talking about, but the barbarian holding him does. He hesitated—then shoved Mogens hard, knocking him and his chair to the ground.
The man snorted and retreated behind the crowd.
"Thank you," Mogens murmured, rising and righting his chair.
Her presence made him feel like he wasn't alone, and that gave him a little bit more confidence.
"I'm sorry I will only attend to her for tonight" he announced, weakly. "We will start again tomorrow"
Grumbles and glares met his words, but he ignored them, focusing on the woman's codex. The gold-clad barbarian lingered behind him, and he greatly appreciated it.
It took almost an hour more to finish with her, and the others approached, but he ignored them, packed his books and left the hall.
He has been doing this for days, and this was the first time he was going back for a proper sleep. He missed Marit dearly, and something in him felt uneasy anytime he thought of her. Guilt. Days away from her has made him realize he had treated her very unfairly, and now shame and guilt keeps him busy to avoid her.
"For a little man, you are quite bold" he heard someone say.
He looked back and saw the woman who had helped him. She was walking toward him. He didn't even know when she came this close.
"Let me help you with that" she offered, reaching for his bag.
He let her have it, even though they were not heavy. Something about her felt warm, especially after days of hostility.
"Thank you again" he said
"Don't sweat it" she replied, like the wallborns.
"You have to be more confident with them" she added.
Their arms brushed as they walked, her presence steadying. "I just want to avoid trouble," he admitted quietly.
"And that's admirable amongst decent people" she told him. "But these are not decent people. They will walk all over you"
She was right. But he wasn't that kind of person. As long as they didn't hurt him, he didn't care what they say, or do.
Still, he smiled a quiet thanks.
As they walk side by side, she adjusted her stride to match his perfectly. When speaking, she holds his gaze a little longer than usual, her eyes softening as she smiles.
"How do you stay so calm with all that shouting? I'd love to know your secret," She said softly, her voice warm as her eyes lingered on him.
He smiled shyly, looking away. "I'm used to it" he said.
When they were passing a group of knights, she subtly stepped closer to him, as if shielding him, her presence reassuring him, even though he knew there was no problem.
"You've got a way of keeping things together, even when it's a mess in there. I like that." she said, when they were past the knights.
She did so casually as if she didn't know what she did. As if it was a second nature to her.
They finally reached the chambers the king had arranged for him, and he smiled shyly asking for his bag.
While handing him his bag back, she let her fingers brush lightly against his hand, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, with a warm smile.
"There's something about you I can't quite place" she said to him with a smile. "Come to me if you ever need help"
He nodded, and the knights opened the door to his room and he went in.
Cria smiled and walked away.
She met Anika down the hallway, waiting.
"Were you not doing too much?" Anika said.
Cria laughed, but said nothing until they passed a knight.
"If there was anyone the king would use as a ninth representative, it would be him" she said.
"So you say" Anika replied, keeping her voice low "But I don't see why the king would choose someone so weak"
"Because he doesn't need his strength" Cria answered. "His is enough"
An old maid passed them. A door creaked open. In the distance, they heard her waking the kitchens—saying something about the king requesting meals.