“Sir, we have arrived.”
At the call of his lieutenant, Marcus alighted from the merchant ship with as much grace as a man could summon after a sleepless ten-hour carriage ride and a sea crossing that had him tossed and heaved like a drunken warhorse. The first rays of dawn washed over him, and for a moment, Marcus closed his eyes and tilted his head toward it. He drew in a long breath, straightened his posture, and squared his shoulders in that habitual soldier’s manner—trying to recim some sembnce of dignity, despite the ache in his back and the sea-salt stiffness clinging to his coat.
Then, he exhaled slowly, savoring that single, fleeting moment of peace.
—which was soon shattered by Landrad’s voice of protest.
“We agreed on two shillings, geezer!”
“You royal guards have way more money than those stingy Temprs,” the merchant spat. “It wouldn’t hurt to give a tip, would it?”
“Y-you…”
“Step aside, Landrad.”
Rubbing his temples, Marcus approached the merchant, his free hand moving down to the hilt of his sword.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The merchant stepped back instinctively. “Do you not know your pce?! A-a mere royal guard like you shouldn’t be going about threatening civilians for nothing!”
He felt one of his eyelids twitch, but managed to regain his composure as he slid his hand into his coat pocket and handed over three silver coins. In an instant, the merchant swiped the coins into his palm and fshed a cock-eyed grin.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Sir!”
“How can you acquiesce to his demands like this, Captain?” Landrad cried, shaking his head as they turned towards the cobbled path leading up to the town proper. “Just because we are in the Temprs’ demesnes doesn’t mean that we should be at the mercy of the locals! These people have forgotten that they are still subjects of the Kingdom! We ought to show them that the royal guards are not to be messed with…”
While Landrad carried on with his spiel, Marcus slowly took in his surroundings. The isnd town of Meridian, nestled against a crescent-shaped harbour, stretched out before him like a resplendent canvas. Stucco buildings painted in soft ochres and whites lined the narrow streets that wove up the hillside, their cy-tiled roofs glinting in the morning light. Olive trees and bursts of bougainvillea spilled over stone walls, and the scent of salt, citrus, and distant hearth smoke mingled in the air.
“…and above all, Captain, you still haven’t told me the purpose of our journey,” Landrad pointed out with a huff. “I know that His Highness has been acting strange tely, but that’s no excuse to abandon your duties and abscond from the capital!”
“I told you, didn’t I?” Marcus muttered, scanning the unfamiliar streets. “We are here at the behest of someone close to the Duchess.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that fact, but what exactly are we doing here?” his lieutenant protested. “As I said, this entire isnd is under the Tempr’s control. Shouldn’t that mysterious ‘someone’ seek out the Church instead of coming to us?”
“I’m sure she has her reasons…”
He slowed mid-step as they passed by a cluster of notices pinned to a sun-bleached board outside the guild house. Noticing the familiar seal on one of the notices, he moved closer, brow furrowing.
“Landrad, come take a look at this.”
“What’s wrong?” The lieutenant joined him with a curious tilt of his head, eyes nding on the rgest poster at the center of the board.
“To commemorate the fifteenth anniversary of the Crusade,” he read aloud, “a grand festival will be held in the town square on the night of the full moon—all are invited to join in the celebrations.”
“No, not that.” Marcus jabbed a finger toward the side of the board.
“What is this?” Landrad squinted at the smaller parchment, nearly hidden among the clutter. “One of those random decrees the Church likes to issue every other month? You don’t have to bother with this stuff, Captain.”
Still, he leaned in to read the fine script aloud. “By the grace of the Holy Spirit, on this blessed seventeenth day of the Harvest month, in the seventh year of our pontificate, the Servant of the servants of Lumina hereby decres Seraphina of Meridian…to be the new Saintess candidate.”
A stunned silence followed.
Landrad straightened, his earlier sarcasm evaporating. “Seraphina? That can’t be—”
“I’ll be surprised if it is a mere coincidence.” Marcus’s jaw tightened. “With His Majesty incapacitated and His Highness embroiled in scandal, the Church couldn’t have asked for a better time to make its move and undermine the Kingdom’s influence.”
“Captain,” Landrad cut in, his voice low and urgent as his eyes flicked to the growing crowd near the guild house, “this isn’t the pce for that sort of talk. Our uniforms already draw more attention than we need.”
With a swift motion, he tore the decree from the board, folding it neatly and slipping it into his coat.
“…let’s move,” he muttered, already turning toward the alleyway that led away from the square.
-
Morning came, and after a quick freshen up, Estel headed downstairs to join Alice and Robin for breakfast.
“And so, I was hiding by the entrance watching Estel fight the butler with a candlestick,” Alice said, downing her ale in one swig. “She put up a good fight, don’t get me wrong…but I had to step in when I realised that the butler had her cornered. It’s a pity you weren’t there to watch me KO the butler—one punch and that bastard was instantly out cold on the floor!”
“You two are absolutely nuts,” Robin muttered as he chewed his bread and shook his head in disbelief. “You—” he pointed at Estel, who was twiddling her thumbs in embarrassment “—I don’t know whether you are crazy or just pin stupid to face a man with a dagger all by yourself.”
“And you—” he turned to Alice “—are you trying to get her killed? Take some responsibility in your actions, for Lumina’s sake!”
Alice averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing red. “I-I just wanted to see Estel in action…sorry, Estel.”
“O-oh, there’s no need to apologise,” she said hastily. “I survived thanks to your help, after all.”
Robin finished his bread and stood up. “Well, if you will excuse me, dies, I have to check on my merry men and decide what to do with a certain someone’s request. What about you two?”
“We have to get new clothes, that’s for sure,” Estel said, tugging at the loose hanging neckline of her borrowed robe. “And find a way to go back to the dukedom…”
“If you like—”
“Why don’t we just ask Robin—”
Alice and Robin shot daggers at each other.
“I’m the one offering, and you aren’t invited,” he said dryly.
“Too bad we are a two-for-one package deal,” she rejoined, sticking out her tongue.
“What in Luminara are you talking about?” he chided. “You’re just leeching off Estel’s generosity.”
“Hmph, look at the mirror first—you’re the one taking advantage of a dy’s vulnerability, you pervert!”
“It’s called chivalry, you witch!”
The common room of the inn fell silent at their outburst.
With a heavy sigh, Estel set her mug down forcefully. “If you two want to fight—” she raised her voice in disdain “—can you please take it OUTSIDE?!”
Robin flinched and backed away. “A-apologies, I’ll arrange for a carriage right this instant.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Alice said in a meek voice, sitting back down at the table and quietly continuing her meal.
