Chapter Thirteen
Daniel II
It had been nearly a month since Daniel and Keath left Isseaos on horseback, two complete strangers riding south. Daniel presumed south, as there was nothing north of Isseaos other than the Startelm, and he would know if they had entered those hallowed lands. The two rarely spoke, and when they did it was only to confirm that they were stopping for a night’s rest or that Daniel had to wake from his sleep. Their first few days of riding had taken them to an abandoned cabin where they stayed so Daniel could regain his strength. He had been nearly starved in the dungeons, and his body was weak to the point that he could scarcely remain upright in the saddle.
Daniel’s time in the cabin had been occupied by sleep. When his head first touched the comfortably uncomfortable wooden excuse for a bed, it was the most blissful experience he’d had in what seemed liked months. He coiled himself around a gaunt pillow and was cloaked with a flimsy sheepskin that only reached to his knees. Keath had tried to speak with him, but Daniel’s only interest was in savoring his moments in a bed. He promptly fell asleep and did not wake again for nearly two days.
His eyes forced themselves open, severing the thin layer of crust that had formed between his lids. He laid there with his cheek resting on his folded hands and they squinted against the faint shards of light overwhelming his sensitive eyes. A shadow of Keath sat perched by a fire, stirring a pot. The aroma of boiling potatoes and carrots wiggled its way up his nostrils. Keath shuffled across the room with a bowl of the near-boiling muck and spooned it into Daniel’s mouth. Still they did not speak.
When Daniel was able, they once again mounted their steeds and rode south, swiftly and efficiently. At first, Daniel did not know exactly where they were going; he never thought to ask and honestly did not care. He was so elated to finally be away from the hell he had been living, they could have ridden right into the southern sea and it would have been a welcome change. Since his recovery, though, he had grown curious. Aside from his brief stay in the capital as a boy and his march back into Pegasus, Daniel had not seen much of his adopted country. As a mage, he was confined to Isseaos until he was deemed worthy of placement in a noble house as an advisor or given a job as a laborer. With the Endaures making the decisions, he knew he would have likely remained there forever if not for the king’s intervention. In all honesty, he was not even familiar with the geography of Ruinous. He had studied it for his schooling, but never paid much attention to the books they threw in front of his face. Why should he? He was already more powerful than any mage at Isseaos the day he arrived, a fact Itro had always resented.
They rode through mud, rain, and cold sunlight, but the longer they rode, the less and less crisp the air grew. Near the coast, they were now able to feel warmth; the breeze had transformed from a sharp blow to a brisk brush. Before long the horizon held a great stone castle with three towers forming a triangle that pointed to the sea. The walls were aged, and even from a distance, Daniel could see the spots of green where the moss had grown over the stones. Smaller walls framed a small city, not nearly as large as the capital. The walls wrapped around the city from coast to coast, ending at the sea, and there were docks and boats clustered in the harbor. It was familiar to him, but from where?
Where had they come? Daniel knew they had ridden south because they never crossed the Blood Bridge or the Adelphia River. What is south of Isseaos? he thought. He noticed a green flag with a yellow stag flapping atop the towers of the triangular castle. Green and yellow, a stag: This was Adelphia. This was Keliea’s home. He recognized it now from her stories. She had told him about this place, how her father would take her to these very beaches to swim in their warm summer oceans. He had thought of his friend often since leaving Isseaos, and was sure that her not-so-distant memory would continue to linger in his mind.
He pulled his horse in front of Keath’s, bringing his to a stop. “Adelphia? Why have we come here?”
“He speaks!?” Keath sarcastically replied. “We are here because we need a boat, and assuming that your eyes can function, I’m sure you can see that this is favorable place to find one.”
“A what place?”
Keath clasped half his face with an open palm. “A good place!”
“Why do we need a boat? Where are we going? I’ve been with you for weeks now and you haven’t told me anything about what’s going on.”
“Oh excuse me! I apologize. I simply did not want to interrupt your self-loathing. You seemed quite occupied on our journey.”
Daniel glared at the stranger he had been traveling with. Keath’s face had healed a great deal since they left Isseaos, but he had not noticed until now. “You got a problem with me?”
Keath snickered, bringing his horse around Daniel’s and trotting toward the city. “We’ve got a long way ahead of us. Don’t make it any longer than it needs to be.”
They rode through mud, rain, and cold sunlight, but the longer they rode, the less and less crisp the air grew. Near the coast, they were now able to feel warmth; the breeze had transformed from a sharp blow to a brisk brush. Before long the horizon held a great stone castle with three towers forming a triangle that pointed to the sea. The walls were aged, and even from a distance, Daniel could see the spots of green where the moss had grown over the stones. Smaller walls framed a small city, not nearly as large as the capital. The walls wrapped around the city from coast to coast, ending at the sea, and there were docks and boats clustered in the harbor. It was familiar to him, but from where?
Where had they come? Daniel knew they had ridden south because they never crossed the Blood Bridge or the Adelphia River. What is south of Isseaos? he thought. He noticed a green flag with a yellow stag flapping atop the towers of the triangular castle. Green and yellow, a stag: This was Adelphia. This was Keliea’s home. He recognized it now from her stories. She had told him about this place, how her father would take her to these very beaches to swim in their warm summer oceans. He had thought of his friend often since leaving Isseaos, and was sure that her not-so-distant memory would continue to linger in his mind.
He pulled his horse in front of Keath’s, bringing his to a stop. “Adelphia? Why have we come here?”
“He speaks!?” Keath sarcastically replied. “We are here because we need a boat, and assuming that your eyes can function, I’m sure you can see that this is favorable place to find one.”
“A what place?”
Keath clasped half his face with an open palm. “A good place!”
“Why do we need a boat? Where are we going? I’ve been with you for weeks now and you haven’t told me anything about what’s going on.”
“Oh excuse me! I apologize. I simply did not want to interrupt your self-loathing. You seemed quite occupied on our journey.”
Daniel glared at the stranger he had been traveling with. Keath’s face had healed a great deal since they left Isseaos, but he had not noticed until now. “You got a problem with me?”
Keath snickered, bringing his horse around Daniel’s and trotting toward the city. “We’ve got a long way ahead of us. Don’t make it any longer than it needs to be.”
He led them into the city and to a stable master who traded them coin for their steeds, and then to the shipyards. Daniel followed Keath around as a boy follows his merchant father while he speaks with and exchanges gold with a series of characters. When it was all said and done, Keath had secured them passage to a place called Merkanth. Daniel was not familiar with the name, but opted to remain ignorant rather than have to exchange words with Keath again.
With nightfall upon them, they would have to wait until morning for their boat to set sail. So they planned to take shelter at an inn near the docks. Brimming with barely dressed women draped over sailors, the Dripping Candle was the fine establishment boarding them for the evening. Music blared through the tiny hall, not quite drowning out the obvious sounds of pleasure coming from the lodgings. The place was stained and unkempt, making Daniel uneasy and feeling violent.
“Two chickens with red boiled potatoes, please, and dark brown ales,” Keath ordered, plopping onto a barstool. “Anything for you?” He smiled, raising his brow to Daniel.
“You’ve brought us to a whorehouse,” he said emotionlessly.
“Yes, and a very good one at that. You see that savory beauty over there? I plan on enjoying her a little bit later tonight, once I’ve had seven or eight pints in me. Ah, and the redhead too. I’ve got the coin after all, might as well splurge.”
With nightfall upon them, they would have to wait until morning for their boat to set sail. So they planned to take shelter at an inn near the docks. Brimming with barely dressed women draped over sailors, the Dripping Candle was the fine establishment boarding them for the evening. Music blared through the tiny hall, not quite drowning out the obvious sounds of pleasure coming from the lodgings. The place was stained and unkempt, making Daniel uneasy and feeling violent.
“Two chickens with red boiled potatoes, please, and dark brown ales,” Keath ordered, plopping onto a barstool. “Anything for you?” He smiled, raising his brow to Daniel.
“You’ve brought us to a whorehouse,” he said emotionlessly.
“Yes, and a very good one at that. You see that savory beauty over there? I plan on enjoying her a little bit later tonight, once I’ve had seven or eight pints in me. Ah, and the redhead too. I’ve got the coin after all, might as well splurge.”
Daniel thought about punching Keath in his smug face right there. How tough could he be? Even if he were, he wasn’t tougher than Daniel. He could do it, drop him where he sat, go right to that triangle castle, and tell Keliea’s father. Tell him about his daughter and tell him...everything. If he did that though, that was it. The deal with Daerunt would be off and then it was likely that the good king would be added to the list of people who wanted him dead. Then there was also the fact that Keath, though he was a complete ass, had helped Daniel recover. He almost loved to hate the man.
“You’re going to waste our gold on whores? The king’s gold?”
Keath turned and directed his eyes to Daniel. “I’ll be investing my gold in whores, yes. Never wasting. I’m supporting these fine young ladies and patronizing their noble establishment. Nothing more.” The barkeep returned, delivering the plump whole chickens and tall stout ales. Keath and Daniel both reached for their mugs and chugged them down in ferocious gulps. Daniel slammed his mug to the bar seconds before Keath, letting out a brief but heavy belch and earning him a puzzled look from the man.
“Two more please,” he demanded.
“Big drinker, eh?”
“You live in hell for seven years, you deal with it somehow. My father owned the local pub growing up too. Used to have me work there for him as a kid.”
“So Daerunt Danford, King of Ruinous, trusts his kingdom’s future to the son of a barkeep?” Keath jested, swigging back his newly arrived drink.
“My father was not just a barkeep. That’s just how he spent his retirement. He was a sword master, Gien Stonevien. “The Swift Edge,” they used to call him when he was younger. He created the Woodsmen Guild and co-founded the City State of Calafrack, acting as minister of the Masters of Guilds. He was—he is—a great man.” Daniel had not talked about his father, or his childhood at all, for some time. He had almost forgotten what life was like before Isseaos, before the war.
“Impressive. Where’s your old man now that Calafrack has lost its independence?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a long time. I loved him.”
“Daddy issues, I see. Don't fret it, my father’s... Well, he’s a unique man too.” Keath guzzled down the rest of his ale and waved to the barkeep for another round. “Fathers, right. What a reason to drink.”
And drink they did. Hours rolled by as the two now-familiar strangers inhaled chickens and ale. Daniel lost count of how much he drank, sharing stories and laughs with Keath. They spoke mostly of the trouble they had found as children and Keath told Daniel of all the women he’d slept with. Getting to know him, Daniel found Keath to be similar to him in many ways, but also completely different. Keath seemed shocked when Daniel told him he had never been with a woman before.
“Never been with a woman?” His voice cracked. “Well damn, then looks like we are at the right place, aye?”
“No,” Daniel’s stern voice echoed, “we aren’t. I don’t like places like this. I don’t like whores.”
“Don't like whores? That’s like saying you don’t like air. Who the fuck doesn’t like whores?”
“Me.” Daniel laughed. “The last time I was in a place like this, someone tried to give me a whore too, but that was long ago. Before the war, before Ruinous. I was only a boy, really.”
“Couldn’t get the little pecker up? Poor guy, shocked for that long? You’ve had enough to drink though, should be able to work it now, and you’ll probably get some longevity out of it. How about that one over there? She’s a pretty little thing, probably even show you where to put it if we ask her.”
“I know where to put it. Kind of. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not putting it anywhere. I told you, I don’t like whores or whorehouses. Just ale.”
“I got to know, kid. What happened?”
Daniel had buried that night deep inside his mind. He never talked about it. It happened because of his brother, and he never ever talked about his brother. Not to Keliea, not to Tin’at, not to anyone, and not because he had not loved his brother—he loved him dearly—but because the pain of bringing him up was something he wished to avoid. Maybe it was that he didn’t know Keath, but talking to a stranger was different. One could open up to a stranger. Strangers wouldn’t judge, and if they do then they can just as well remain strangers. Or maybe it was countless pints of ale stirring in his belly. Either way, he decided that he would tell Keath about the night he killed his first man.
“You’re going to waste our gold on whores? The king’s gold?”
Keath turned and directed his eyes to Daniel. “I’ll be investing my gold in whores, yes. Never wasting. I’m supporting these fine young ladies and patronizing their noble establishment. Nothing more.” The barkeep returned, delivering the plump whole chickens and tall stout ales. Keath and Daniel both reached for their mugs and chugged them down in ferocious gulps. Daniel slammed his mug to the bar seconds before Keath, letting out a brief but heavy belch and earning him a puzzled look from the man.
“Two more please,” he demanded.
“Big drinker, eh?”
“You live in hell for seven years, you deal with it somehow. My father owned the local pub growing up too. Used to have me work there for him as a kid.”
“So Daerunt Danford, King of Ruinous, trusts his kingdom’s future to the son of a barkeep?” Keath jested, swigging back his newly arrived drink.
“My father was not just a barkeep. That’s just how he spent his retirement. He was a sword master, Gien Stonevien. “The Swift Edge,” they used to call him when he was younger. He created the Woodsmen Guild and co-founded the City State of Calafrack, acting as minister of the Masters of Guilds. He was—he is—a great man.” Daniel had not talked about his father, or his childhood at all, for some time. He had almost forgotten what life was like before Isseaos, before the war.
“Impressive. Where’s your old man now that Calafrack has lost its independence?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a long time. I loved him.”
“Daddy issues, I see. Don't fret it, my father’s... Well, he’s a unique man too.” Keath guzzled down the rest of his ale and waved to the barkeep for another round. “Fathers, right. What a reason to drink.”
And drink they did. Hours rolled by as the two now-familiar strangers inhaled chickens and ale. Daniel lost count of how much he drank, sharing stories and laughs with Keath. They spoke mostly of the trouble they had found as children and Keath told Daniel of all the women he’d slept with. Getting to know him, Daniel found Keath to be similar to him in many ways, but also completely different. Keath seemed shocked when Daniel told him he had never been with a woman before.
“Never been with a woman?” His voice cracked. “Well damn, then looks like we are at the right place, aye?”
“No,” Daniel’s stern voice echoed, “we aren’t. I don’t like places like this. I don’t like whores.”
“Don't like whores? That’s like saying you don’t like air. Who the fuck doesn’t like whores?”
“Me.” Daniel laughed. “The last time I was in a place like this, someone tried to give me a whore too, but that was long ago. Before the war, before Ruinous. I was only a boy, really.”
“Couldn’t get the little pecker up? Poor guy, shocked for that long? You’ve had enough to drink though, should be able to work it now, and you’ll probably get some longevity out of it. How about that one over there? She’s a pretty little thing, probably even show you where to put it if we ask her.”
“I know where to put it. Kind of. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not putting it anywhere. I told you, I don’t like whores or whorehouses. Just ale.”
“I got to know, kid. What happened?”
Daniel had buried that night deep inside his mind. He never talked about it. It happened because of his brother, and he never ever talked about his brother. Not to Keliea, not to Tin’at, not to anyone, and not because he had not loved his brother—he loved him dearly—but because the pain of bringing him up was something he wished to avoid. Maybe it was that he didn’t know Keath, but talking to a stranger was different. One could open up to a stranger. Strangers wouldn’t judge, and if they do then they can just as well remain strangers. Or maybe it was countless pints of ale stirring in his belly. Either way, he decided that he would tell Keath about the night he killed his first man.
“Like I said, I was just a boy, eleven or maybe twelve years old, not sure. It was about eight years ago. My brother, he was older than me. Father always sent him away on business, dealing with bandits, repairing dams, eradicating predators for shepherds. You name it, my brother did it in the service of Calafrack. He was like my father’s right hand. So anyway, he was heading up north to Pegasus, Juhno’s Crossing, on some business for the guild masters. It was nothing out the ordinary for him, only this time father finally decided to allow me to join my brother. Up until then, I was limited to working in the pub and doing chores around town. I’d never really left my home before that, so naturally I was excited. I yearned for the world outside, to travel through the forest and traverse the Mountain of Dreams, side by side with my big brother. There was nothing I wanted more.
“The journey was everything I expected, better even. We fished and hunted our lands until we crossed the border. Then we got to Juhno’s Crossing, my first time in Pegasus and first time seeing a real city, not just the basic layout that was Calafrack. Michael’s mission was to issue a formal warning to a Pegasus guild called the Wolf Pack, which was stealing work from our guilds and breaching a contract agreement they had made with my father. My brother, who was maybe a year younger than I am now, was well known in Pegasus, feared and respected, but their leader, this fat fuck Lucian Greysummer, tried to get tough with him. My brother put him in his place real quick though, and they agreed to fall in line.
“Anyway, that night we stayed in Juhno at a place my brother apparently frequented, a brothel, not so different from this one. We walked through that door and the whores flocked to us. My brother stood there with a big grin on his face and whores on both arms. Keep in mind, now, that my father had no idea that this was what his golden child was doing on those long journeys, and I really didn’t know what was going on. We didn’t have whores in Calafrack, so I just figured my brother was really popular with the ladies. All the girls at home loved him, so it made sense that all the girls in Juhno would too.
“The journey was everything I expected, better even. We fished and hunted our lands until we crossed the border. Then we got to Juhno’s Crossing, my first time in Pegasus and first time seeing a real city, not just the basic layout that was Calafrack. Michael’s mission was to issue a formal warning to a Pegasus guild called the Wolf Pack, which was stealing work from our guilds and breaching a contract agreement they had made with my father. My brother, who was maybe a year younger than I am now, was well known in Pegasus, feared and respected, but their leader, this fat fuck Lucian Greysummer, tried to get tough with him. My brother put him in his place real quick though, and they agreed to fall in line.
“Anyway, that night we stayed in Juhno at a place my brother apparently frequented, a brothel, not so different from this one. We walked through that door and the whores flocked to us. My brother stood there with a big grin on his face and whores on both arms. Keep in mind, now, that my father had no idea that this was what his golden child was doing on those long journeys, and I really didn’t know what was going on. We didn’t have whores in Calafrack, so I just figured my brother was really popular with the ladies. All the girls at home loved him, so it made sense that all the girls in Juhno would too.
“It was not long before he patted me on the head and said, ‘I’m going to bed, kiddo, but Ethel here is going to take care of you tonight.’ And Ethel did take care of me. Filled my belly with the most delicious ribs I’ve ever had to this day, and she even went so far as to feed them to me. She kept touching me to too, asking me if I was ready to go to bed, but I was a kid on my own in a brothel and she had given me more ale than my father ever allowed me to sip in the pub. It was actually a really good time.
I felt like I was my brother for once, until the door flung open and a pack of wolves strolled in, with the waddling Lucian Greysummer at the lead.
“I recognized them, but didn’t say anything at first. I watched them grab a couple whores, take a table, and fill the room with shouting. I must have stared a little too hard, though, because they did notice me. One of them asked me what I was looking at and I told him something along the lines of ‘the grey blob of pig shit that slid out of his mother’s cunt.’ I don’t know, I had a sharp tongue back then.
Needless to say, they were not happy with me, and Lucian—who actually smelled of pig shit, which I was sure to let him know—well, he recognized me. Knew who I was, knew who my brother was. I told him if he knew who my brother was, then he better know enough to turn around and leave. He didn’t like that very much either. Said he didn’t want a whore tonight, that he was going to be fucking a little boy.
“They came at me, three of them. I had never killed a man before that, but I knew how to fight and I was quick. They couldn’t lay a hand on me. I was dodging them all throughout the brothel. Under tables, over chairs, I was all over the place. It was a game to me, until Lucian got his grubby sausage fingers on me. I warned him, I did, told him he better let me go or else. He didn’t let me go, so I bit right into his hand. I could taste his blood. It was actually kind of sweet. After that, he got really upset and pinned me to the ground, pulling his knife.
“He raised his good hand to thrust his blade to my throat, but I freed my right hand and restrained him. We struggled with each other, pushing the blade from neck to neck. His heavy hands weighed down upon me and I’ll admit I was actually scared, but I was strong even then. I know I don’t look it and I definitely didn’t look it then, but I am very, very strong physically, and I pushed that knife into his throat and kept on pushing and pushing and pushing until I flinched from the blood dripping in my eyes. One of the whores walked in on us and starting throwing a screaming fit, calling for my brother.
“Buck naked, he darted in, sword in hand, and dragged the lard off my body to find his little brother covered in blood that was not his own.
“So you ask me why I don’t like whores and why I don’t like brothels. Well, that’s why. Growing up I always wanted to kill the bad guys, be a hero like my brother was. He and my father always made it sound glorious. They never told me what it was like to watch the life fade from a man’s eyes, or about the smell of shit that spurts from his ass when he dies. Even when you hate someone, killing them is never easy. After that, my brother always told me that it never should be. I fought in war, killed a lot of men, and still don’t like to think about it.
“I think I’m going to go bed now—alone. Goodnight, friend.”
“I think I’m going to go bed now—alone. Goodnight, friend.”