Ryn of Avonside

“I'm starting to get really nervous about this trip,” I said to Troy as we sat in the glass balcony lounge. “This empire is so much larger that we realised, and I'm getting this… vibe. I don't know how to describe it. I'm just… worried.”

“If the bandits in this empire can access mage-killing tech, then I'm inclined to be worried too,” he said, waving the report I'd written for him about the attack. He eyed the paper for another moment, then looked me in the eye. “How are you holding up — being in charge?”

“It sucks,” I sighed. “Having that kind of responsibility is terrifying.”

“You get used to it,” he chuckled, his fingers fiddling with his coffee mug.

Outside, the wind surged, shifting the branches of Stormpine so that direct sunlight hit us. We both winced and turned away.

His chuckle became a wry smile. “Then, when you're nice and comfortable and you fuck up — get people hurt, it's a surprise instead of a long-forseen dread.”

“That's so reassuring.” I said, then after a moment, I voiced a concern that had been slowly swirling around in my head for a while. “I also don't really know what our objective is here. Like, the Avonsiders are looking to open diplomatic talks and stuff, but what about us?”

“Information,” Troy said instantly. “We don't know enough about the Ring. Then, the objective is to try and do good, and to stop others from doing bad. So just keep the Avonsiders alive, and let them do the negotiating.”

“Hard to do when they can't speak the language properly,” I grumbled.

Troy laughed again. “Patience, Ryn.”

The next day, we stepped outside of the taberna where we were staying and were immediately accosted by the bright morning sun. The temperature had been steadily increasing as we made our way down the huge river, and now things were beginning to feel quite mediterranean. A moment after the sun was done punching me in the retinas, a teenage boy in a bright blue and white tunic stepped forward to deliver a second inadvertent flashbang.

“E-excuse me, my lady?” He stammered awkwardly. “Are you Rynadria? I’m supposed to, um, to invite you to the Pherih family estate.”

Squinting at him while my eyes adjusted, I asked, “Where? Wait, nevermind, that's the family of Nofrei, yeah?”

“Ah, yes, my lady,” he nodded earnestly.

“Alright,” I said, glancing at my companions.

Grace was talking softly to Adam, but Ross was paying attention and he nodded. “Lead on.”

With the boy's help, we navigated through the streets back towards Nofrei’s place. While we walked, I idly looked around at the city. The literally colourful culture around us was vibrant, but it wasn't a utopia. I saw a few homeless people, begging for coin under thin fabric shelters that barely kept the sun off them. A troupe of guards came through and began checking them for some sort of small wooden medallion, and when they couldn't produce it, they were lifted to their feet and sent off towards the outer city with a nasty kick to the rear. Even the beggars needed permits in the Empire of Bureaucracy.

Unlike yesterday, we were led to a large, ornate wooden gate set into a fence made of heavy grey stone. The messenger turned to us with a bow. “In here, please.”

An older man with a leather breastplate and a spear opened the gate from the inside and gestured us in. It looked like he was the only guard there.

Inside, we found a huge garden with multiple tiny rivers burbling along, and artfully carved bridges that crossed them. A few large trees gave shade to the main walkway, and to the delicate beds of flowers that circled them. Off to the side, I could barely make out Nofrei's glasshouse sitting room through the foliage.

Up at the end of the main path, a larger manor structure awaited us. Made of light grey stone with dark wooden accents, it was a three storey building with each floor being smaller than the last. On the rooftops that were accessible from their adjacent floors, I could just barely make out more gardens.

The main doors to the manor opened, and a small procession of colourfully well dressed people stepped out, along with a couple of servants with heads down. Nofrei was among them, but she wasn't at their head. That position was held by a middle ages man with severe frown lines and sharp eyes.

“Welcome to Pherih house,” he said, with a slight bow. “I am Sabu Pherih, patriarch of our house. Welcome to our manor. It's not much, but we've made a home of it.”

Grace's hand found my hip for a second, and I heard her mutter in English, “Dude, this place is crazy, what are you talking about?”

In that blip of distraction, Dr. Ross stepped forward before I could, and in a passable mix of the two imperial languages, said, “Thank you for the greeting. Your home is wonderful. What can we do for you?”

“Ah, business can wait until we are properly seated. It's not traditional, but I enjoy a cup of karreb in the morning,” said Sabu. To one of the servants, he said, “Karreb and short cakes to the lower balcony shade.”

Without a word, the servant bowed and left, while the patriarch ushered us inside with a wave of his hand. Those of us in armour, sensing the more social nature of things, unclipped helmets and loosened tight straps. Eilian even ditched her toughened vest from underneath her coat. She clipped it to her backpack without much ceremony, and I decided to follow her example. It was basically a kevlar vest, and it could get pretty uncomfortable.

The inside of the house was all lime washed wood panels with bright lights keeping it from seeming too dim and dreary. When I looked closer at one of the lamps, I saw that it had a little stuffed fabric ball in it that was emitting the light.

“My handiwork,” murmured a deep, feminine voice, very close to me.

With a twitch of surprise, I turned to see Nofrei had gotten close. Her strange shifting clothing was parted and hanging so that I could see a lot of her chest. Redfaced, I squeaked out, “Oh, nice. That's really cool.”

With a laugh that said she'd done all of that on purpose, she moved off to follow Sabu up a wide staircase.

“She's messing with you,” said Eilian in english, with one part amusement and one part warning.

Frowning, I replied, “Yeah. I'm wondering why. She said she wasn't interested in women yesterday.”

“The Ghraiga have a reputation for using everything in their political games.” Shrugged the obrec. “If she thinks it will help her or her family, she might try to seduce you. Generally speaking though, I've found that if someone is focused on finding me attractive, they aren't as focused on getting in my way.”

My frown became a grimace, and I nodded. “Point taken.”

Upstairs, we were immediately ushered down a short hallway and out into the rooftop garden. A small fountain burbled away at its centre, while several elaborate trellises created the framework for vines to grow over various seating areas. We were led to the largest of these — a proper gazebo, where plush cushions and low chairs framed an ornate marble table.

Once seated, Sabu looked to Eilian and me. “So, two garden mages from two different peoples are traveling together wearing the same uniform. I can see why Nofrei found you so interesting.”

“And a warlock,” I added, nodding to Grace.

He gave her an acknowledging smile. “Indeed, and then we find out that you are merely glorified guards to… a delegation from an independent village from somewhere in the mountains? That seems difficult to believe.”

“Why?” Dr. Ross asked simply. “It's true.”

I'd never seen him look so guileless.

“Hmm,” the Ghraigaran nobleman grunted, openly attempting to read us.

“We're out here looking to establish contact with the people of this new world,” Ross said, and impressively, none of the words he used were exclusive to Tayghrai, the so-called commoners tongue. That language and the one spoken by the nobility, Ghraial, shared a great many words, but the former had long since absorbed many languages from the minor lineages, while the latter had remained “pure” — or at least, that was how I understood the difference.

“Ah, of course,” Sabu said with a smile. The beverages arrived before he could continue, and we took a moment to sip the strange tea-like liquid. It tasted a bit like if normal tea were combined with cinnamon and cardamom, plus like… honey, maybe? It wasn't like, bad, but it definitely took a second for my taste buds to parse.

Ross cleared his throat while he cradled the beautiful glazed mug in both hands. “We suffered a large raid from the steppe tribes very soon after we arrived, and while we've been fortifying ourselves ever since, true safety doesn't come from walls or weapons. It comes from having friends, trade, and prosperity for all nearby. That's why we're out here. To make friends and begin trading. Hopefully we'll stumble upon the prosperity as we go.”

Sabu chuckled and looked out over the city. “The Empire is entering its third decade without so much as a border skirmish with our neighbours, and much of that peace was earned at the tip of a spear. I applaud your optimism, though. It is a good man who holds that outlook.”

Dr. Ross furrowed his brows just the tiniest bit, but he smiled when he replied. “I like to think of myself as a good man. It's why I'm out here attempting to make friends, after all.”

“If it's friends you want, I cannot speak for the Empire as a whole, but us Pherih and our wider Tolem brethren would undoubtedly be willing to take you in,” Sabu said, before taking a long sip from his drink. He sighed happily as he swallowed.

The lines of Dr. Ross' face somehow shifted further into concern, while also appearing nonchalant and unbothered. It was a weird expression, honestly. I wonder if Sabu picked up on it?

“The council and the people of Avonside would definitely be grateful to have you and the Tolem as friends,” said the professor.

Sabu’s smile flashed very briefly into a smirk, before a servant rushed over to whisper something in his ear. Immediately, his serpentine confidence vanished, and he glanced back at the entrance to the rooftop garden.

A man in his mid thirties was advancing towards us with the type of grace you'd only expect to see in a young stag. His face was silken smooth, without any hint of stubble, and it made his sharp jawline look almost bladed. His hair had the same kind of smooth, silken strength to it, with its shaved sides and artfully combed fringe.

I watched in real time as Eilian’s gaze locked onto him like a heat seeking missile. Uh oh.

“My Lord Narseh,” Sabu called, getting reluctantly to his feet. “A thread of fate is plucked in our favour today. What can we do for you?”

“Oh, it was merely a whim on my part,” said the extremely suave younger man. His sharpened gaze roamed over the rest of us, and I could see plain as day that he recognised us somehow, before it settled on Nofrei. “I'm terribly sorry for the intrusion. I fear a part of me was drawn once again towards the beauty of your sister.”

“Flatterer,” she said with a slight giggle.

Sabu, looking properly perturbed now, said, “My sister does have a habit of catching fish without a single cast of the rod.”

Nofrei laughed, while the newcomer took a seat without being offered one. Damn, he had a lot of confidence.

Finally, once he was settled, he focused on me and Eilian. “Now, who might you both be? I don't believe I've met either of you.”