Chapter 292: Lord of the March

A knock came at the door to the guest house, and Galamon stepped away to answer it. Once he did, Vasilisa stood on the other side. She looked about the room and then declared, “I won’t act unless I’m confident in what you plan to do.”

Argrave had been reviewing some of his writing in his notebook about Llewellen’s lecture on the dwarven musical cube. He closed the book, rose to his feet, and stated, “That was rather prompt. Not as though that’s a bad thing, of course. I don’t think confidence in my plan is going to be a problem, unless you’re someone who is unusually timid. I made it this far.”

The blonde Magister shook her head. “I don’t get your optimism, Silvaden. I do hope it’s worth more than just words. They’re all you’ve given me thus far—promises that Ivan stole the flame, promises that we can take it back, promises that we can beat the Magister in his own territory…” Vasilisa trailed off as she spotted Argrave putting a backpack over his shoulder. “Are you… already packed?”

Argrave nodded. “Well, I was rather optimistic about your answer. And would you look at that? I was right.” He smiled broadly. “I think you can take that as a sign of what’s to come.”

#####

They traversed back over the mountains outside Quadreign on foot. It was a harsh journey and the steep climb brought Argrave close to exhaustion. By this point, it was obvious Vasilisa had some regard for their abilities, for she did not slow her pace at all for any reason. Her regard was warranted, though, for they kept pace all of the way.

Beyond a certain point, the road levelled out. There was a small village they passed by that had a stables—though they briefly contemplated buying horses, none of the ones they had were large enough to accommodate the sheer size of either Galamon or Argrave.

And so, with nothing but determination, they travelled the roads south. Eventually, the North Sea entered into sight once again. There was a settlement in view—not Prenviania, where they had initially docked. No, instead this was a low-lying island just off the coast, a grand tower rising up out of the center of it. Even from a distance, one could see the abundant farmland and the well-constructed homes. It was clearly a place of the wealthy.

“That island… it’s called First Hope. Ivan makes his home in that tower,” Vasilisa pointed. “It was constructed in the same manner as the Tower of the Gray Owl by the Order after their organization was permitted access to these lands. Well… you probably haven’t seen that, being from Veiden,” she considered. “Needless to say, each and every stone is enchanted. The building was meant to withstand earthquakes, storms, magical assaults all.

“The coast,” she continued. “It’s lined with settlements, each quite wealthy individually. Fishing and trading make them their living. Right there… that’s Whiteden. They collect pearls there,” she outlined. “Of late, a great deal of spellcasters have made their home on the coast and on the island. This place is secluded enough to allow them to commit to their research and close enough to a center of Order activity to make it ideal for other magically oriented activities.” Her eyes wandered. “I can think of half a dozen High Wizards that make their home here. No other place is particularly conducive to the Order.”

Argrave could see why. The coast was quite the beautiful place to live. The North Sea, at least in this area, was rather bright blue and beautiful. The pine trees were not so dense as they were elsewhere, but their snow-covered needles still made an interesting sight. In the far distance, there was a view of ridiculous scale. They were grand towers of wood, so high that it baffled the mind. It seemed a land made for giants placed in a land made for humans.

“Are those… trees?” Anneliese questioned. “There, in the distance. They… make the tower look stunted. They must be hundreds of feet tall.”

Vasilisa followed his gaze, then nodded. “Indeed. You see redwood trees. Most call that forest the Bloodwoods. Those lands… they don’t belong to Vasquer. They belong to the centaurs and the elves. They were the only peoples able to repel King Felipe III in his conquests. People that wander there seldom return. It’s said that giants and worse still roam those woods. Most learned long ago not to test that theory.”

“We stray from the subject,” Galamon reminded them.

“Vulras is right,” Vasilisa agreed. “The point is this: this prosperous territory you see before you? There’s much more of it inland, and all of it belongs to Margrave Ivan. Those castles in the mountains…” she pointed them out. “Lords of the local villages, and all sworn to Ivan. Say what you will of loyalty, but know this: contentment beats it out at most every point. Wealthy and happy… what chance do we have of prompting people to break the peace even if the truth should come out?”

“First Hope…” Argrave said the island’s name. “Does it bar our kind entry?”

“I don’t… I think not. I’d never considered it,” the Magister admitted.

“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Argrave said, stepping forth.

“Hold on a minute,” Vasilisa called out. “Should I… I mean, if I come with, Magister Ivan might… every time I enter the city, he insists I visit. The ferrymen all know me.”

“Would you normally hide away? He might think things are suspicious if you remain a little reticent,” Argrave reminded her. “Tell you what… let’s see if we can’t get in the city, look around for a bit, perhaps secure lodging… and then we’ll go speak to Ivan.”

Her brows narrowed, and she said darkly, “Speak to him?”

Anneliese stepped up to the Magister. “Please… try and look at the bigger picture,” she urged. “I know it might disgust you to feign ignorance of what he’s done to you and your house, but if things go poorly…”

Magister Vasilisa relaxed somewhat, then looked up at Anneliese. “I’m beginning to see how this works. Silvaden says something provocative, and then you soften the blow with sweeter words. Well… fine,” she conceded. “I guess we haven’t even established that Ivan has our flame. Once again, we’ve only your promises.”

“If that’s how you want to look at it, that works for me,” Argrave nodded. “So long as you don’t accuse him to his face, I don’t see the problem. Shall we go?”

#####

They took a ferry across the sea from a local village. It was a relatively serene ride with none recognizing any of them besides Vasilisa. Argrave rather enjoyed being one nameless face amidst many. Everyone stared at him because the three of them were tall, but none stared at him because he was king, and that was a welcome reprieve. As Vasilisa predicted, the ferrymen requested that Vasilisa go visit Ivan as soon as she was able.

Despite the fact that three of them were ostensibly snow elves, they were not barred entry from the city. They walked by the farmland on the outer portions of the island, heading towards the denser urban area near Ivan’s tower. Once there, Vasilisa led them all to an inn. She went off to her own room, while Argrave and them set up theirs.

As they settled their things in a local inn, Galamon grabbed Argrave’s arm and said, “You.”

“Me?” Argrave repeated, perplexed. “What’s this about?”

“The glass eye… I think it’s on a ship in the North Sea,” Galamon told him. “And I think it comes here, to this island.”

“A ship?” Argrave repeated. “Well, that’s… I suppose that could be good for us. That could also be terribly inconvenient,” he shook his head. “Keep me posted.”

“The bowl… drinking my blood from it…” Galamon left a question unspoken.

Looking at Galamon, Argrave could tell it made him uncomfortable. Galamon hated his vampiric beast, and loathed being better connected to it—the bowl did precisely that.

“I know what the guy who has it looks like,” Argrave patted his arm. “If he’s coming here… you can lay off. Anneliese and I can find him.”

“I see,” Galamon nodded. “Thank you.”

Giving a curt nod, Argrave resumed what he was doing, but Anneliese spoke to him next.

“Are you certain Vasilisa will accept your plan of action?” Anneliese asked quickly. “I mean… not to be condescending, but it is difficult to see it working.”

Argrave considered her point. “I made all of Veiden believe I was an agent of Erlebnis. What’s the big gulf between that and this?”

“Fair point,” she conceded, releasing him.

“Besides, it’s best we speak to Magister Ivan. I want to see if Traugott came by here,” he nodded. “If he’s come north with that booklet I wrote for Castro, I can think of a few places he might visit. I’m not sure of his intentions… and I’d like to find them out as quickly as I can. Coming here like this gives me a unique opportunity to do so.”

#####

Once their things were settled, Argrave and his companions went downstairs. Vasilisa waited for them there, already with drink in hand. He was starting to realize the game Heroes of Berendar had not done her alcoholism justice. Or maybe it just hadn’t existed, there. They walked up to her table.

“Ivan has agreed to having you three come along to our meeting,” Vasilisa said before Argrave even came to stand beside her. “I arranged a conversation under the pretext of a conversation of the debt Quadreign owes. I mentioned you three, and his messenger said it would be no problem.”

“That’s good. When?” Argrave asked, making it to the table.

“Whenever,” she shook her head. “That’s why I drink.”

“Of course,” Argrave said accommodatingly, tapping his fingers against the table to vent his desire to stay moving. “So… when shall we go?”

“When I finish my drink,” she looked at him with cold eyes, as though daring him to protest.

Argrave bit at his lips, choosing his words carefully. “Aren’t you… don’t you have a loose tongue when you’re drunk?”

“Not from one cup,” she shook her head.

Argrave took a deep breath, feeling a bit nervous now.

#####

With Argrave’s feet growing colder the more brew Vasilisa downed, they did eventually depart from the inn and head for the tower. Unlike most of the other places associated with the Order, this place was a private residence, meaning it did not have the same restrictions that barred non-members from entering within. They were granted entry without a fuss, and quickly boarded the central elevator.

“I’ve never seen something like this,” marveled Argrave as the central stone elevator transported them up the floors of Ivan’s tower. They were packed quite tightly on one platform. He was lying, of course. He was good at that.

“Just enchantments,” Vasilisa said almost idly. “Certainly nothing to gape at.”

The elevator reached the floor that they desired, and the stone platform clicked against the side of the wall before coming to a stop. Vasilisa took a certain step off.

The room on the other side was fairly ostentatious. The great majority of it had been lined with decadent furs and fine fabrics from further south—velvet, cottons, silks, and the like. It made the place seem stuffy visually, yet the inside was quite a pleasant temperature compared to the coldness outside.

Magister Ivan sat on a couch, leaning far back into it. A table straddled his body, both of his arms resting atop it as he read. When Vasilisa entered, he turned his head towards her but did not make to rise. Like many in the north, he had blonde hair and blue eyes. From the look of him, he was rather tall and slim. He wore loose-fitting robes, well-fit for this temperate room of relaxation.

“Margrave Ivan,” Vasilisa greeted stiffly.

“Vasilisa,” he returned. “I thought I told you to call me Ivan?”

“You did,” she admitted.

Ivan chuckled, setting his writing implement down. “These three… your friends, you said?”

“They are,” Vasilisa confirmed.

Letting out another laugh, Ivan picked up the table over his body and moved it, delicately balancing the paper and writing implement atop it. He set it on the floor and stood. He seemed to pay the three of them little regard, being interested in only Vasilisa.

“I’m told you came here to talk about Quadreign’s debt to me,” he said, then raised a finger before Vasilisa could respond. “Before you say anything… I want to offer you something.”

Vasilisa frowned. “What?”

“I want to give you an offer to reduce your house’s debt,” he explained, holding his arms wide. His robes came loose a little, and he quickly corrected that before anything untoward could occur.

“Reduce it? Why? What would I have to do?” Vasilisa frowned.

“A Magister is coming to visit soon,” Ivan continued. “Now… I’m not sure of this person’s nature. All I’d like for you to do is mention your house’s debt while they’re present. This person… if it were me, alone, they might get some overambitious ideas. They’ll surely get no such greedy mindset if they know I have a Magister under debt.”

Argrave took a deep breath, shocked that his gambit to locate Traugott worked out so well. The Magister surely wouldn’t recognize Argrave or his companions—he’d never seen them before. Given how Vasilisa and he had interacted… it might pose problems, though. Argrave looked to the Magister. Her jaw was clenched tight. Belatedly, Argrave realized this wasn’t about safety at all. Ivan allowed the three of them to come up alongside without issue. All he wanted was to get word of Quadreign’s debt to a Magister.

“…who is coming?” Vasilisa questioned.

“Ah, good question.” Ivan waved his hand, then stepped away. He walked up to a curtain and then tossed it aside, revealing a desk just beyond. After opening a drawer, he retrieved a paper. “Looks like… ah. I even misremembered it. Must’ve been because I got another note earlier about Magister Traugott…” Ivan looked up. “Magisters Hegazar and Vera are coming, under the direction of Master Castro himself.”

And in moments, Argrave was shocked his gambit worked out so poorly.