Your father, Maillard
When Arthan finished reading the letter, he looked around the room. All eyes were fixed in uncomfortable stares. Alfrem moved first, placing a linen-wrapped parcel on the table and unfolding it to reveal a sword. Arthan recognized the colors of his house in the intricate sapphire and spinel gemstones set in gilded designs. The top of the hilt was fashioned like a lion’s mouth, with a white-glinting blade protruding from it.
Alfrem finally spoke. “Adrithayn. The anchiclade blade is old but will still defeat most steels. Unfortunately, that is all I was told about it.”
“How long have you known?” Arthan asked.
“Maillard kept the sword hidden from me until Raymond’s murder. I was as surprised as you are now.”
“Anyone else at this table familiar with chemina arcana?” Arthan asked. Heads shook all around. “Does anyone know what this blade can do? And why it shines white?” Only stares answered him.
“I suggest you consult Master Pelinaud,” Alfrem said. “As you know, he is knowledgeable about most any weapon. Perhaps even alchemical.”
“If keeping Adrithayn at my side will help me survive these persistent assassins, then I will do so. It’s clearly what Father wanted and he seemed to know more than he was willing to write down. I’ll ask Pelinaud, but for now, no one outside this council will know about this sword or Father’s letter. I’ll not have rumors about the Marshal of Inquiry turning to pagan beliefs. Father gave clear warning about dismissing these old ways and hinted that others may hide similar blades, but I need to know more first.”
“I think that is wise,” Medoff said as the others nodded. “As the newly appointed Marshal of Inquiry, many eyes will be upon you. If you reveal this sword too soon…”
Arthan nodded. “I wish I could have spoken to Father about this,” he said. “These are difficult times. Rioting in Eglamour. The weakness of Erech. The influence of Brugarn and his ilk. The skirmishes on the border with Rugenhav…I want to end Rowan’s wardship under Lord Asteroth, and I want him to return to Rachard as soon as possible. It may only be a matter of time before serious conflict erupts on the border. I sent him a letter prior to leaving Eglamour, but I suppose a messenger has not arrived?”
Alfrem shook his head. “It will be difficult to convince Asteroth. Once warded, Rowan is like an adopted son to Asteroth. He’ll want him to experience the strife on the borderlands, to harden him.”
“I want him recalled from Alpenon regardless of Asteroth’s wishes. Aside from Rowan’s safety, if Erech is overthrown by Brugarn, he could hold Rowan as a hostage to force my cooperation.”
“I agree,” Medoff said. “I can send a troop of men down to Alpenon to retrieve Rowan.”
“Just a messenger,” Arthan said, shaking his head. “We must not provoke Asteroth by sending a large escort, at least for now.”
“Do you need more soldiers to guard you at Clonmel when you return to the capital?” Medoff asked.
“The king has provided me with a new force as marshal, any number I need. I certainly don’t trust them as I would my own Racharders, but I’ll have Livonier and his men with me again. As for the Delavon Army, ensure we are ready for a war with Rugenhav, should it come.”
“Countess Iserenne’s troops are already on alert,” Medoff said. “Since she shares a border with Gadolin Ministry, her lands would be the first to meet Rugen invaders.”
“The Rugens could also come up through Austveeden,” Livonier said. “My lord, you’ve not yet appointed a new Count of Caval to replace your slain cousin, Golbane.”
“When Rowan returns he will have the title,” Arthan said. “Perhaps it will help him leave Asteroth, if he needs a reason. Rowan’s experience on the borderlands will certainly help him manage Caval, if the Rugens take a path through Austveeden.”
“Invading Austveeden would bring the Calbrians into the war,” Medoff said. “So it’s more likely the Rugens would attack Alpenon and Gadolin first, then attempt to take Eglamour. Delavon is far out of their way.”
“We mustn’t limit Rugen aggression to the south and west alone,” Alfrem said. “Given the state of the kingdom, they may be tempted to take more of Donovan than we’d expect.”
“Which is why I want to fortify Delavon,” Arthan said. “Bellumet, as my chief engineer, what do you advise?”
Arthan could not help but steal a look at Meriam, seated beside Bellumet at the far end of the table. He missed her face but had not had the time to see her much since bringing Bardil’s body into Rachard.
The bald, pointy-nosed Bellumet cleared his throat. “Since the collapse of the Empire Alliance, I’ve been giving some thought to an idea. It’s extensive, expensive, but nothing would better defend Delavon if the worst comes.”
“Go on,” Arthan said with a nod.
Bellumet gestured to Meriam. She unfurled a scroll of loose parchments, scattering a collection of maps and sketches on the table.
“These show the locations of three ancient warcastles: Hullen in the west, Rampilar in the south, and Zulgauet in the southeast.”
“Warcastles…” Arthan said. “The old Brintilian ruins?”
Bellumet nodded. “They were your ancestor Hilsingor’s idea. He designed warcastles to house multiple legions to hold the frontier during the colonial push into the interior of the New World. All of them were built by Frontier Corps soldiers and tribal slaves. Too expensive to keep up, their stones were later cannibalized to build castles and cities when the threat from the tribes subsided.”
“They’ve been ruined for hundreds of years,” Alfrem said. “Surely it would be cheaper and easier to build new border castles.”
Bellumet shook his head. “No, sir. The foundations are still good. I sent Meriam to study them. These are her drawings. Meriam?”
“You can see in this sketch, my lord, that the Frontier Corps used large rough-hewn blocks to build most foundations and walls,” she said. “Even some towers still stand today, though the grounds of all three ruins are now forested, or, in the case of Zulgauet, boggy.”
“Wonderful,” Arthan said as he stared into her eyes. His advisers looked at him. “What I mean is, were these cities or castles? They look more extensive that I remember hearing.” He marveled at the intricate detail her slender, gentle hands had rendered.
“Both, my lord,” Meriam said. “They were the largest fortifications ever built in Pemonia, rivalling even Arcodum in Arukia. The heathen hordes repeatedly overwhelmed traditional castles in the original colonies. The formation of the Frontier Corps put the tribes on the defensive, and the warcastles helped the Brintilians take vast swathes of tribal lands. Warcastles were self-sufficient, with fortified farms, granaries, workshops, barracks—everything.”
“Hilsingor had the first warcastle built here,” Bellumet said. “Rachard Castle was the core of a warcastle by the same name, the rest of it torn down to build and expand the city and pave roads to new cities. Rebuilding on the weathered skeletons of Hullen, Rampilar, and Zulgauet would be a daunting task, but there would be no better defense.”
“Many Brintilian high nobles went bankrupt attempting to rebuild or maintain these colossal fortresses,” Alfrem said. “I do not advise wasting time and gold on them, my lord.”
“None of the warcastles, once completed, were ever taken,” Bellumet said. “That includes the warcastles elsewhere in the kingdom and in Austveeden. These three once formed an impenetrable curtain across the underbelly of Donovan, and they could serve this purpose again.”
“The utility of the warcastles in olden days, when the Brintilians mined the electrum fountains and other metals here, may have made sense,” Alfrem said.
“Does anyone still use warcastles today?” Arthan asked.
“Other than the core of Rachard, there is Riddertin Castle in Gadolin,” Bellumet said. “It’s right on the Rugen border, just a sliver of the original warcastle.”
“I cannot imagine what t
his scheme would cost,” Alfrem said.
“Meriam has calculated it,” Bellumet said.
“About seventy thousand guldirs would be required to complete restoration of all three simultaneously within a year,” she said.
“Longer, if the money is reduced,” Bellumet said. “The cost includes labor, granite, timber, everything.”
“Impossible and impractical, to say the least,” Alfrem said.
“We’ll likely have a war on our hands well before a year’s time,” Medoff said.
“Asteroth and Erath will slow the Rugens down enough to buy us more time,” Lunfrid countered.
“This is folly,” Alfrem said. “Seventy thousand guldirs…”
“How soon could Hullen be completed, if we focused on just one for now?” Arthan asked.
“About three months,” Meriam said. “And only because it’s in better condition than the others. Rampilar is foundation only, but close to quarries in the Caval Moors. Zulgauet is the most isolated. If Hullen were reconstructed first, Rampilar and Zulgauet could be completed by this time next year.”
“Who would build this?” Alfrem said. “The Army of Delavon?”
“Labor should not be a problem,” Bellumet said. “Soldiers put out of service in Eglamour and elsewhere could be hired.”
“Other ministers will demand a tax to use them, just as we would,” Alfrem said.
“The expense would be negotiable,” Bellumet said, “and the northern ministers would have an interest in seeing our fortresses stand up.”
“Thereby keeping up the popularity of the Marshal of Inquiry,” Meriam said with a smile.
“I don’t see it,” Alfrem said. “Beyond expending a quarter of our lord minister’s treasury, lore says these warcastles took fifty years to construct.”
“But that was in an age of few good roads,” Bellumet said. “And they had to clear the land and defend against frequent tribal raids and dig the deep foundations and moats. Most of the lengthy work has been done.”
“Even if it could be done, these warcastles wouldn’t protect our northern or eastern borders,” Alfrem said.
“Our northern neighbor Lord Sigbert is of the least concern,” Medoff said. “And unless we’ve insulted the Calbrians in the east, they are probably focused on snatching the channel islands from Hanovel Ministry.”
“I agree,” Arthan said. “I acknowledge your concerns about the warcastles, Alfrem. But I want them to be rebuilt. Delavon should be its strongest while I’m away in Eglamour. We have the resources and the skill of Bellumet and Meriam. And any labor that is drawn from other ministries will be capable of picking up a sword if the worst comes.”
“I can see you’ve made your decision,” Alfrem said. “But let us not neglect Rachard. If the warcastle line is not ready in time, the capital must be defensible. And we shouldn’t expect aid from other ministries, including Sigbert.”
“The Army of Delavon will be ready,” Medoff said.
Arthan nodded. “Rachard will have whatever it needs.” He turned to Bellumet and Meriam. “I’d like to see one of the ruins while I’m here, to know of the effort firsthand.”
“Rampilar is the closest but merely foundations,” Meriam said. “Hullen is not much farther, but there is more to see there.”
“I will show him,” Bellumet told her. “You stay here and finish the plans.”
“I would like Meriam to come along,” Arthan said. “She is intimately familiar with the ruins. Alfrem, send word to Countess Iserenne to meet us at Hullen so we can discuss these plans with her.”
“Of course, my lord.”
67. RODEL
Thorendor Castle, Wallevet Ministry
Bloomfade, 3034
“Well done, Rodel!” Arasemis shouted.
It was the Rugen’s turn to play the mouse, and he was enjoying himself. Rodel narrowly evaded Fetzer’s quarterstaff, then bounded off the wall and somersaulted over his pursuer. When Fetzer turned, Rodel again ran to the wall and this time up to the balcony that ringed the top of the training hall. Fetzer simply could not spin around quickly enough.
“I didn’t know he was allowed to combine techniques,” Fetzer complained.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Arasemis asked. “This was an all-out session, so both of you were free to use everything you’ve learned.”
Rodel jumped from the balcony, flipped, and landed perfectly on his moccasined feet. And yet his movements were no louder than a summer breeze. Fetzer scoffed and tossed the quarterstaff. Rodel beamed.
“You’ve both proven your acrobatic skill in such a short time,” Arasemis said. “Even shorter than Marlan and Garion did, I dare say. The competition between the two of you pushes you forward like wind in sails. But beware the squalls and remember that you’re both Candlestone. Well done.”
“Thank you, Master,” Rodel said.
“Have we learned enough aerina arcana to practice more alchemy?” Fetzer asked.
“Actually, yes,” Arasemis said with a nod. “Let us return to the laboratory for your next chemina lesson.”
As they followed Arasemis down the corridors and stairwells, Rodel turned to Fetzer.
“I know you resent my being here, Fetzer. But we’ve done well, don’t you think?” Fetzer ignored him, so he continued. “It’s been good to receive the master’s focused attention, hasn’t it?”
“I’d rather be on the Valient task,” Fetzer said.
“Agreed, but our chance will come.”
“I don’t wait for chances,” Fetzer said, glaring at him. “And I don’t like Rugens, especially ones who upstage my destiny.”
Rodel was unsure how to respond without provoking him. Fetzer was always dour, serious, and critical. Rodel wondered if Fetzer ever thought about anything beyond what he could do or get for himself.
“I’m sorry to have offended you in any way,” Rodel said. “We are brothers in the Order.”
“I suppose I should like your people,” Fetzer said. “After all, they’re responsible for the growing chaos on the continent that will feed the Order’s power and speed my destiny.”
Rodel kept his mouth shut. In truth, he did not care why Fetzer disliked Rugens, nor did he understand all his talk of destiny. Rodel had learned it was best to keep Fetzer at arm’s length when he was in this sort of mood, which was sharper since the other students had departed on their task.
“Gather over here,” Arasemis said, pointing to the tall shelves on the laboratory wall. “Rodel, what do you see?”
Fetzer sighed with exasperation as Rodel glanced up and down the shelves. “Jars, containers, bundles,” he said. “Alchemical ingredients.”
“Wrong,” Arasemis said. “You see what the uninitiated folk see. Fetzer?”
“Well, I…” Fetzer mumbled. “Materials for mixing…”
Rodel did not feel so bad after watching Fetzer be caught off guard.
“Also wrong,” Arasemis said with a grin. “You need to see all of these things as small prisons, keeping their essences locked tight within. You’ll learn the keys to unlocking and extracting the essences properly. Only then will they be useful for a higher effort that most people never see.
“Chemina arcana is about harvesting and harnessing the innumerable essences of the earth and everything in it. These essences are hidden by nature for a secret purpose—our purpose—and our ancient knowledge is the key to unlocking them. Take this one, for example. Rodel, can you identify it from the textbook?”
Rodel stared at the lump of waxy brown spherules. “A plant resin?”
“Correct. It seeps from the heartwood of the eucalyptus trees of southern Ovelia every winter when the trunks crack open. What is it used for, Fetzer?”
“It’s a sleeping agent,” Fetzer said.
“Well done. How is it processed alchemically, either of you?” The two students pondered until Arasemis spoke again. “That is your next lesson, to learn the basics of proc
essing, or, more formally, alchemical conversions. In this case the eucalyptus resin must be boiled in clean water with about fifty grains of lead at the bottom for twelve hours. The sticky foam is skimmed from the top and mixed with pigeon bone powder, then heated again until no moisture remains. Finally, brown dye from oak galls is mixed in and dried again. As novice alchemists, you should add dyes to powders and liquids to more easily identify their ingredient family.”
“Brown for sleep agents and orange for poisons, for example,” Rodel said.
“Correct. Now, Fetzer, can you identify and retrieve caustic sulfur? To give you a hint, you’ll need the rolling ladder to reach it.”
Fetzer looked at the upper shelves before ascending the ladder.
“Very good,” Arasemis said. “I see both of you read the Naren-Dra and Arukan texts I assigned. Both texts were translated by Enthiri, the great-granddaughter of Rildning. Now, Rodel, locate the smoke quartz.”
Rodel walked around until he saw a ceramic jar with Naren-Dra glyphs painted on it.
“Very good,” Arasemis said. “Take the caustic sulfur and smoke quartz to the worktable. I will bring this jar of garlic balm.”
Rodel and Fetzer watched as Arasemis donned his Naren-Dra mask. He ground up the caustic sulfur and smoke quartz with a mortar and pestle, layering the powders into a flask. When he poured the garlic juice into the flask, the reaction was instant. Arasemis let the solution bubble and fizz a moment before corking the flask.
“This solution is called ditch fume,” Arasemis said. “Very dangerous if inhaled, but useful for warding off parasites, funguses, and insects. And it demonstrates that not all alchemical conversions require boiling, distilling, or similar methods. Some essences react violently with others because they are so potent even while in their small prisons, so to speak. But most useful mixtures and solutions do require conversion in a laboratory.”
“Why do we funnel so many of the alchemical powders into eggs?” Rodel asked.
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