pt2: the conversation.
SUMMARY: Aesha meets Alexei; Alexei opens up to Gianne
(continued from this)
Nestled between Mount Rajnir and the hills of Vorlan, Eldyn was a charming little town, with stone houses at its epicentre. There were two inns, a market, and a baker– an apothecary and many merchant stores lining the main streets. Farmland stretched on the flat plains just after the hills, where much of the produce and wheat was grown. Viseri’ith dropped the Rider off just outside of town, where Alexei proceeded on foot. Birds chirped from the trees and the sounds of the village reached him as he came into town, hearing the chatter of Eldyn’s loyal residents.
There was only one place that could have the essence, and that was the apothecary. It was a large building, with two main rooms and an upstairs that housed the owner’s family. Aesha’s Herbs, the sign read. He entered the great stone house, the thick door falling shut behind him. A bell jingled on the doorknob, signalling his presence to the bustling storekeeper. She was Aestani, her long black hair carefully loc’d and held into place with an intricate silver pin. Half of it was down, cascading down her back. Her voice was welcoming.
“What do you seek?” She mused, standing behind the counter– her tattooed fingers rolling a smooth polished stone between them. Her skin was a deep, lovely brown, contrasting with her yellow dress. It resembled the petals of a sunflower, although not too thick for the summer weather.
“Silverbark essence, by order of Her Majesty the Queen.” He replied, plopping a bag of gold down on the counter. By the size of it, Aesha gleaned it contained Nixan mjöns– the finest currency in the land. So, Her Majesty was not afraid to pay. The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow.
“Forgive me, my lord. I did not recognize you. Silverbark essence is prized, yes– I have six bottles. I’ll sell you only four,” In truth, Aesha wanted the rest for the villagers. They were prone to the illnesses that travelling merchants sometimes brought. It was crucial medicine. She put down the stone she’d been fiddling with, and got down to business.
“Four will do.” he answered absently, placing a palm on the counter. Aesha read his pensive expression, preparing the bottles and securely wrapping them in thick paper. She tied the bundle with twine, stamping a wax seal to keep it in place.
“A purse of mjöns is much more than this costs, my Lord,” Her gaze fell to the bag. It was almost ridiculous, how much he’d have left after the original cost of the bottles– she pushed it back. It seemed more like a bribe than anything. Aesha fixed him with a stare.
“Keep it,” He muttered, looking at the bag with disdain. “Her Majesty is generous.”
He gathered the wrapped bottles and stuck the package beneath his arm. He was certainly a surly man, but Aesha knew better than to judge. She’d heard tales of the brutal execution that took his wife from the world. Many years back, while she’d sat at the back of a tavern, locals murmured to one another. He’d seen it, they said. She sighed as the door fell shut behind him. Aesha was alone again in her shop, the bubbling potions no longer soothing her restless thoughts.
Why was he here, of all places?
It simply made no sense. That medicine could not have been the sole reason for his visit. It could be obtained anywhere in Vorlan– he’d have found more, if not better, prices in the cities.
What business could he be on that Eldyn has to offer? Was he visiting somebody local?
Her face set into a firm expression, and she stood there for some time with her hands on her hips. At once, her mind settled on one thing.. The Dovaaek. They would reward handsomely for news of Djolran, but the money wasn’t what she was really after. She reached for parchment and scrawled a quick letter, rolling it up and tying it to the leg of a messenger pigeon. She watched it fly toward the Stormhold Mountains, a strange feeling coming over her. She hoped this wasn’t the first sign of trouble… or that contacting Gaeor would be a mistake.
Alexei made his way out of the village, reaching into his satchel and producing a bone whistle out of a small pocket. He raised it to his lips once he’d passed the outskirts, the shrill sound loud enough to alert Viseri’ith that it was time to go. The dragon appeared from the distant treeline, circling down so that the rider could board.
He climbed into his seat and sighed softly, tightening the strap of the satchel. He needed to keep the bottles as safe as possible, for more trips into town was not something he could afford– the look in the shopkeeper’s eye gave him a vague sense of unease. She knew who he was, based on the mention of the Queen. How much she knew… that was yet to be determined. Still, he willed his mind to rest.
Will she betray you? The dragon rumbled, listening in on his thoughts.
“Can’t tell.”
Somebody else will be behind it. I see her in your mind’s eye. She is a messenger.
He fell silent as they sailed above the clouds, fixating his gaze on the dragon’s neck spines. As far as he’d known, the only ones searching for him had already found him. The mad king was as dead as his wife, and a better ruler sat in his place. He was certain whoever she may have contact with must yearn for information… and the only ones he could consider were his former Dovaaek comrades.
As they progressed back towards Mount Rajnir, dark heavy clouds began piling onto the horizon. The dragon made his descent through them, their dampness clinging to his scales in tiny droplets. Alexei’s blond hair clung to his forehead limply, his heavy shirt keeping his skin shielded from the slight chill the cloud had brought. They landed in the clearing, the smell of woodsmoke lingering in the air as it drifted lazily out of the cottage’s chimney, and the rider slid down off his back. The soft, fine grass came up to his mid-shins, despite his height.
“The rain will come. I will be here all evening,” He patted Viseri’ith’s tough hide.
“Best to seek shelter in a mountain cave. You can’t fit into that house.”
Viseri’ith snorted, hoisting himself back into the sky and disappearing. Alexei always felt alone without his companion, but he needed to speak to Gianne without the dragon scrutinising his thoughts. He had a hard enough time as it was with personal matters. This would not be any different– any less awkward.
He opened the heavy wooden door with slight reluctance, stepping inside and setting down his satchel. He closed it behind himself, stiffly unlacing his boots. Gianne was tending to the woodstove, piling more gnarled branches in for it to slowly burn away at. The rain pattered the roof as it suddenly began, cool air drifting into the open window.
“I thought you’d lost your nerve,” she began, eyeing him. She placed mushrooms into a pan, the butter inside sizzling as each one made contact with the cast iron. She tossed in a pinch of rosemary, the smell filling the room. Another stew bubbled over the fire in the hearth. Alexei’s stomach growled.
“Orders.” He grunted, pushing his damp hair off his forehead. He regretted not searching for a hot spring, but it was too late now.
“You’ve thirty minutes before it’s time to eat. Go wash,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. He stared at her wordlessly, indicating his confusion. She turned away from the stove to lead him down the hallway. There were more rooms than it looked like from the outside, in her little cottage. Alexei wondered if this was the result of magic. At least five more rooms than what he’d guessed– no, it had to be. She opened a gilded wooden door, practically shoving him inside. Just as he’d opened his mouth she held a finger up to her lips, satisfied with herself. She closed the door firmly, and left him to take in his surroundings.
It was an indoor hot spring, fashioned to look like a neat and tidy bathroom. The flat stones making up the floor were warm beneath his feet. Towels were rolled up on shelves lining the same wall that housed the door, fluffy and inviting. He stepped toward the waiting pool, stripping off his garments and leaving them on the floor.
As he sank into the hot water, he groaned in appreciation. Alexei grabbed an untouched bar of soap, getting to work– wondering how on earth this cottage held so many secrets from the outside. It must have been built over the hot spring, this he knew. What did the other rooms hold? Gianne was more interesting than he’d remembered, but then again, his last visit was spent mostly comatose. He knew nothing about her, but she welcomed him back into her home without a fuss. It was bizarre. Maybe Gianne was confident in her ability to carry herself.
Who was she?
He sighed, leaning back. He set down the soap, sinking into the water deeper. It was level with his lips now, the steam rising and bringing a slight flush to his tan complexion. Alexei hated being close to people, and this was one of the many, many reasons why– his incessant mind and its worries. He heard her distantly, thunking pots and pans about. It brought him out of his thoughts and back to the present, leaving the hot spring to dry off. He’d brought a change of clothes. Without them, there was no point washing up.
By the time he rounded the corner, she was hanging up the pots on the ceiling. His eyes met hers, deep and green. He looked away, raising a hand to push back his hair. It was time to face the difficult conversation, once and for all. He would spare her the gruesome details of what happened that fateful night, but it was her right to know. Now that Pjöllaros was dead, she was safe with the knowledge.
“Welcome back, Ser Djolran,” She hummed, in the middle of setting the table.
“Please, take a seat. Dinner is ready.” Gianne brought over bowls of stew to join the bread and butter on the table. The fried mushrooms were the topper for the stew, sitting atop the meat and vegetables invitingly. They were golden and fresh, ones she’d picked this morning. His stomach began to growl, and he did as he was told. She sat the bowl before him. Its aromas were irresistible, after a long journey here, eating nothing but dry bread and meat. He made quick work of it, Gianne watching him from across the circular table. She looked amused, almost flattered– her smile played upon her lips.
“You need to know something,” he muttered, when he’d finished. He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together absently. Staring into the flames of the hearth, he sighed and steeled himself.
“Oh?” The smile left her face after seeing his somber expression.
“I was once commander of the Rider’s Order. Leader of the Dovaaek. I served the Realm, and worked directly with the people in their best interests. I was sometimes an emissary of the former king. For a time, we were his loyal dogs.” He clenched his fist.
“As soon as he began cutting off trade and restricting travel, I became a double agent. It was all in the name of the common people, the ones who were affected the most. I worked with many underground associations to ensure that citizens were brought what they needed, even illegally so. It was their basic right. With the death of the late queen mother, this all became worse. I could not work with him any longer.”
“I had made my vows, yes– and what I was doing directly opposed that. Eventually, he found out. One of my men had been caught in a raid from a royal storehouse. He was stealing grain. They tortured it out of him. I had been caught, and every one of my accomplices were my underlings. Every single Rider was punished with high treason. Public execution. I gathered as many men and women as I could, and we fled as soon as I’d been informed… that I’d been sold out. By then, the king’s forces had descended upon us. I had just made it into the air with Viseri’ith, a few of them ahead of me, but it was too late. The ones still on the ground were slaughtered on the pavilion, their dragons were younger. Smaller, their hides less… impenetrable. The poison on the arrows and the spears worked quickly.”
“I had barely managed to escape, and my wife…” He trailed off, his expression hardening. His jaw flexed in effort to contain himself, and it was a moment before he found the words within him to continue.
“It appeared that the king prepared well for that moment, for he’d made iron arrows. Giant ones, made to pierce the scales of dragons. My wife was beside me, flying away, when one… chained arrow took both her and her dragon down. A few arrows from the archers hit me, and that’s why I ended up in that field of yours."
"I knew they’d all perished, I saw it before my very eyes. If I didn’t run, I’d have died with them. There would have been no hope for a future. I rode with Viseri’ith until I fell off his back. He broke my fall, enough to spare my life. If it was not for you, I would have died thinking of their faces. Thinking of the carnage. When I got better, I had to leave. If you’d been housing me and the king caught wind, he’d have hung you for treason for helping me.” He paused, exhaling softly.
“This is a formal thank you, for saving my life... Gianne.”