The lands of southern Fellhaven were not altogether too different from Jadewall. Both duchies had the same sweeping grasslands, forests, walled towns, vineyards, pastures, sprawling farms, and riverside marshes. Though it was practically a mirror of the duchy's greatest rival, to Caderyn it was a different world altogether.
The aches and burdens of the long journey faded. Fears of the future fled to the back of his mind. Familiar heraldry brought a smile to his face, as did the sight of men-at-arms in blue and gold cloaks patrolling the roads. For the first time in months, he could actually
breathe
.
A glance over his shoulder at the great keep of Stonecurrent sent a delightful little jolt through him. The evening before, all three of his lovers had shared his bed, granting him an evening that would cling to his heart for the rest of his days. He turned his smile from the riverside fortress to the three women in question. Tessandra and Pelagia rode a little behind him, with the bard providing her thoughts on the best taverns in Fellhaven where they could stay. Melisent was a little further behind, her gray gaze affixed to the horizon.
"Don't be foolish," Caderyn said to the blonde and the redhead. "You won't be staying at a damned
tavern
. The ducal palace has plenty of space in the guest wing."
"Won't that be a bit...scandalous?" Tessandra asked. "We can hardly expect your parents to allow your lovers to gallivant around their palace."
"Well the 'gallivanting' will have to be limited, of course, but you both were devoted companions during the journey. It's the least my parents can do."
"As long as my quarters are next to Pelagia's so we can 'gallivant' in secret while you have to attend boring council meetings," Tessandra said with a playful grin.
Caderyn's laughter faded and he guided his horse over to Melisent. Her long, luxurious dark curls fluttered and the morning sun danced across her creamy olive skin. She'd barely spoken since departing the keep and Caderyn did not blame her. The future was still uncertain; they'd reach his parents' palace in but a few days, and once there she would have to provide a detailed account of Thandor's crimes and her part in them. While he'd sworn to protect her, there still remained the chance that his parents might want to see her punished.
Knowing he could do little to reassure her with either his words or his touch, he simply remained at her side. After a few minutes she finally looked over to him, offering him a small and bashful little smile.
"I will be all right," Melisent said softly. "I've just been rehearsing the words in my head, preparing for the moment when I meet your parents. And...trying to think of ways to defend my actions, all the things I must say to avoid their punishment."
"I spent a great deal of our ride in Jadewall imagining that, too," Caderyn said. "The conversation may be...difficult, but I will be at your side."
"And what if they don't think the threats to my life are a valid defense for giving the poison to those assassins? What if they demand an example be set? What if they toss me into the dungeons or..." She swallowed. "Or worse?"
"My parents have shown mercy to their enemies before. My father allied with barons who once served the usurper Garnoc, after all. Even Baron Rathgar, the Kovgaardian mercenary who once fought for Garnoc, now serves faithfully as my mother's vassal on the northern frontier."
"But did Rathgar aid a conspiracy to kill their son?" she asked, her lips quivering.
The question sank deep into his heart. His father would want vengeance for nearly losing Sarya; Caderyn just hoped Lucan would be rational and see the bigger picture.
"So you see that this grim possibility could indeed come to pass," she said.
"Then demand a trial by combat, as is your right," he blurted out. "And name me as your champion."
Her gray eyes widened and she flinched back so fiercely he worried she might topple from the saddle.
"No, Caderyn, I couldn't-"
"They would back down, if it came to that. If they are so thirsty for vengeance, they'll not risk their son's life in such a trial."
Though he'd blurted out the words before truly thinking it over, Caderyn stood by them. After everything he'd risked to find and free Melisent, he'd not stand idly by if his parents decided to punish her for the sake of vengeance. They would need to be rational and logical, looking beyond their emotions.
And yet...his own decision was not entirely born of logic, was it? Would he have made that offer were it not for his feelings for Melisent? If she'd not warmed his bed and sated his lusts, would he have offered to stand for her?
Pride and honor told him that he'd have stood up for anyone who was innocent. Once he brushed aside those initial feelings and delved deeper, he wondered if that was true. And what did that say about him if he only stood for honor if his lust was at stake?
Gritting his teeth, he let out a trembling sigh.
"Let us pray my fears are unfounded and it won't come to that," she murmured.
His mind raced through the grim possibilities, playing out a dozen different conversations with his parents. He could see their steely glares, could hear his father's low growls, his mother's stern lectures. Already he knew they would see right through his ruse and guess he'd taken Melisent as a lover, and would certainly question his judgment as a result.
The bright mood inspired by his return home vanished as their ride continued. He stayed close to Melisent, as if fearful her concerns might come to pass. Even as Tessandra sang a jaunty marching song, rousing the others to join in, Caderyn's frown persisted. When villagers rushed forth to greet him with cheers and grateful prayers, the young knight barely managed a smile.
As the afternoon sun began its descent, Caderyn allowed himself to relax somewhat at the sight of Baron Aelred's keep. Rising up from the largest hill on the plain, its central tower was made of the same dark stone as the old Imperial forts, with an imposing wall painted in the blue and gold colors of the duchy. Spreading out beyond the wall was a thriving market town, which in turn was ringed by yet another wall. Great watchtowers displayed the baronial and ducal banners.
Long lines of wagons and carts rolled in and out of its gates, while merchants set up camp outside the walls as well, bartering and trading with each other and the locals. In all directions, Caderyn could see smaller villages, vineyards, watchtowers, and pastures all sworn to Baron Aelred.
"What should we expect of Baron Aelred as a host, milord?" Gwion asked.
"He hates Thandor as much as anyone, so expect him to request plenty of songs mocking the duke," Caderyn said with a soft smile at Tessandra. "His family has been fending off cattle thieves and raiders from Jadewall for generations. Every border war has seen Aelred's family at the forefront of the fighting."
He glanced back to the cart which held the bag filled with severed hands of the cattle-thieves who had raided Aelred's fief. The grisly gift had been given to Caderyn by Sir Jehan, with a request to convey it to Aelred as one last apology for the latest raid.
Of course, Aelred's ancestors had also done plenty of raiding as well. When Sarya had been a little girl, Aelred's father had led a great raid across the border that had threatened Jadewall's capital. During Caderyn's childhood he'd been obsessed with that feat, playfully reenacting it with Vienne and Berent in the family gardens. Having witnessed true battle for himself since then, he almost felt sick to his stomach at having turned such bloodshed into a childish game.
"And he's a good man," Caderyn continued. "He fought as a squire against Kovgaard and earned a knighthood from my father in the process. He's kept the frontier safe from Thandor's ambitions despite a few raids and skirmishes. And if it comes to war, we'll have to call upon him to hold the line while we rally the rest of our levies."
While there were other barons along the border with Jadewall, Aelred's fief contained the most bridges and crossings, and thus he had the greatest responsibility over the frontier. With luck, Aelred might even be able to recreate his father's infamous raid and strike deep into Jadewall before Thandor could fully muster his own forces.
Due to the crowds in the town around the keep, it took them quite some time to arrive at the central tower. One of the knights recognized him and beamed, before shouting for squires to collect their horses. They pressed through the gate, up a broad staircase of black stone. Above them waved the personal banners of Aelred: a burning river littered with broken spears. It was a fitting reminder of his family's role in holding the river crossings against Jadewall's ambitions.
The great oak doors opened into a grand chamber festooned with more banners, along with various trophies and mementos. They included a shield gifted to Aelred by Duke Lucan, a tattered bear-hide banner seized during the war, a cracked Kovgaardian greatsword, and several dented helmets painted with the colors of Jadewall.
The squires led them through yet another door, into a courtyard beside the great tower. Dozens of knights sparred, assailing each other with blunted blades and staffs. Others shot arrows into straw targets, while another knight showed several squires how to steady their lances while in the saddle.
In the center of the courtyard was a broad-shouldered man in his late thirties, his body thick with fat and muscle. An impressive, bushy brown beard obscured most of his jowls. His scalp was completely bare, showing off several deep, white scars. Clad in a simple surcoat just like his knights, Aelred swung a wooden sword at a boy who was perhaps ten years old.
Despite Aelred's size and strength, the wiry little lad held his own, dodging the swings and even managing to thump his blade against Aelred's thigh. Beaming, the boy darted backwards.
"Well done, son!" Aelred said with a booming laugh.
The laughter persisted until a sudden shift came over the baron. Slow steps and tentative strikes became rapid and fierce. A brutal swipe of his sword sent the boy's weapon sailing from his grasp. Aelred then pivoted and crashed the wooden sword into the lad's chest, sending him sprawling.
"Remember," Aelred said. "A man with a wound to the leg can still fight and kill. Press the attack, even once you've drawn blood."
He reached down and helped the wincing boy to his feet.
"So next time you get through my guard, don't stop. Keep going until you knock me onto my fat arse."
"Yes, father," the boy said, then Aelred ruffled his hair.
"Ah, Sir Caderyn!" Aelred said, his voice booming across the courtyard. "Here to show my boy Lucan all the tricks you learned down in Tsannor?"
Caderyn had almost forgotten that Aelred had named his son after the warrior-duke, and managed a soft laugh.
"I'd be a poor sparring partner after the long ride, I'm afraid. But I was hoping to impose on your hospitality before we resume the journey home."
"Of course. I'd never dream of turning away the heir to my son's namesake."
