Chapter Text
Kerowyn watched as the three Heralds entered Faramentha’s court. The one in front was a small woman with curly reddish brown hair down to her shoulders. Following two steps behind were two men, one incredibly handsome with dark hair and one rather homely who was blonde and leaned on a cane. The woman and the dark haired man moved like they had training, the blond man walked like an old merc. Like he had been a skilled fighter before injuries forced him to retire. Like a retired merc, she would assume he was still dangerous.
“Queen’s Own Herald Talia, Herald Kris, and Herald Dirk,” the court herald announced.
The woman—Talia—then began to speak. She explained the situation in Valdemar and asked for Rethwellan’s assistance.
Faram didn’t say much of anything in his response. He didn’t commit either way, but invited the Heralds to stay a few days while he talked with his advisors.
Kerowyn was confused, the Heralds had the right to demand the help. Why didn’t they? She thought about this the rest of the evening, and decided the next day she would seek out the Heralds.
***
That night Talia and Dirk lay in each others arms. “I wish we knew for certain whether you were…” Dirk said.
“Me too,” said Talia. “But I really don’t want to visit a Healer in Rethewallen. What if it got back to Ancar? We’ll just have to trust that everything will work out for the best.”
“That’s what Ahrodie said. I love you, both of you, you know.”
***
In the morning Kerowyn asked a page to bring her to the suite where the Heralds were staying. The door was answered by the handsome Herald—she wasn’t sure if he was Kris or Dirk. “Captain Kerowyn of the Skybolts,” the page said.
“Please, come in,” The Herald said and motioned Kero inside. Inside was a nice sitting room with three doors leading off, all open. Two appeared to lead to bedrooms and one looked like it lead to bathing chamber. Interesting that there were only two bedrooms. There were couches and chairs gathered around a small table, on which appeared to be the remains of breakfast. Herald Talia and the homely blond Herald were sitting together on one of the couches. From their body language Kero would bet they were shield-mates, or whatever the Heralds called it. That would explain why there were only two bedrooms, if it was acknowledged publicly.
Talia put the cup of tea in her hand down onto the table and gestured toward the chairs opposite the couch. “Please, have a seat. I’m Herald Talia, this is Herald Dirk,” she nodded to the man next to her, “and this is Herald Kris.” A nod to the handsome Herald. “I actually was going to seek you out later today. But please, tell me what brings you here.”
As Kero took a seat she found herself wanting to confide her entire life story in this woman, but resisted the urge and instead focused on the task at hand. “I came to ask why you were begging the King for help when you could just call in old favors and demand it.”
Dirk looked confused, Talia’s expression was blank. Herald Kris was seated in the chair next to her and she couldn’t see his face. Talia’s voice was well controlled when she spoke, “Would you mind elaborating on these old favors?”
“How much do you know about how Faramentha’s grandfather got the throne?”
“If I recall right, there was a fight between him and his brother, and his sister was killed, but I haven’t studied Rethwellan history in detail.”
“His sister Idra was a mercenary, and Captain of the Sunhawks, which is how I know details that were kept from the history books. My grandmother and my Clanmother were Sunhawks. Idra originally supported Raschar in his claim for the throne, but when she saw what kind of a king he was she went looking for Stefansen who had disappeared in the north. Raschar intercepted and killed her.
“The Sunhawks—when they discovered this—vowed revenge. Prince Roald of Valdemar had kept Stefansen safe in his personal hunting lodge in the Comb. He offered arms to help put Stefensen on the throne in return for a vow to aid Valdemar should she ever need it. The vow was made on the Sword that Sings, and binds all of Stefansen’s descendants. Between the Sunhawks and the aid from Valdemar, Raschar was overthrown and Stefansen was crowned.”
The Heralds had listened with rapt attention. Finally Talia spoke, “That is quite interesting. I believe a private audience with the King might be in order.”
“Before I leave you to it, may I ask what it was that you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Of course,” Talia smiled. “We’d like to hire the Skybolts.”
When Talia said this, Need nudged Kerowyn to accept the job, but Kero wasn’t going to be led around by a hunk of steel. “Forgive me, but I wasn’t aware that Valdemar hired mercenaries.”
“We don’t, not usually. But you come highly recommended, and well…”
“Desperate times?” Kero asked.
“Something like that,” Talia said with sad smile.
“We’ll have to discuss details but I’m sure it can be arranged.”
***
Talia was surprised that the private audience she requested with King Faramentha was extremely private, it was just him and his Lord Marshall, who also happened to be his brother, Prince Daren. They were sitting in what appeared to be his private office, and while it was fancier than Selenay’s private office, it still had a comfortable and utilitarian design.
“My niece speaks very highly of you in her letters,” Faramentha said.
“I’m very fond of her.”
“She seems very charming,” Prince Daren said.
Talia smiled, “She has grown to be quite charming; she’s earned her Whites and is doing her internship as a Herald. I’m very proud of her.”
“Unfortunately,” Faramentha said, “How charming one’s niece is is not a good enough reason to involve one’s country in war.”
“How about a vow made by one’s grandfather?” Talia asked, innocently, watching the two men flinch. “Is that a good enough reason?”
“She’s got you there,” Prince Daren said.
“Yes, that would an excellent reason to involve my country in war,” Faramentha said as if it pained him. “How soon can our army be mustered and get there?” he asked Prince Daren.
Daren seemed to think for a moment, then spoke. “I don’t think we can get there before the Spring Equinox.”
“I’d like to have a strategy session with you, Captain Kerowyn—we’re hiring the Skybolts as well—and any officers you think should be involved, as well as Heralds Dirk and Kris.” Talia said to Prince Daren.
“Of course.”
***
They were almost done strategizing when Kerowyn thought of something. “Heralds, your populace is not used to mercenaries, are my troops going to have to worry about, well, unfriendly farmers making our lives more difficult because they don’t understand we’re there to help?”
The Heralds looked at each, and then Kris spoke “One of us should ride back with them. People will be fine if they see a Herald.”
“We’ll discuss it and decide who should ride back with you.” Talia said.
“Can one of you be ready to leave in the morning?” Kero asked.
All three nodded.
***
Later in the Herald’s suite Dirk sighed, “I’m the logical choice to go with Kero aren’t I? Obviously Talia can’t, and Kris has duties back at the Collegium. I know duty comes first. I just wish I could be there when you see the Healers. Or to take care of you.”
“I’ll take care of her, brother. But I think you probably read the situation correctly” Kris said.
“Rolan has the strongest range of anybody, my love. He'll tell Ahrodie as soon as I see the Healers, so at least you’ll know, either way.”
***
The next morning Kero met all three Heralds at the stables and learned that Dirk would be accompanying her, while Kris and Talia returned to Valdemar. “Is it true you ride a Shin’ian Warstead?” Kris asked as they waited for their mounts to be led out (Kero had given Hellsbane very specific instructions about playing nice with the stable hands).
“It is; here she is now,” Kero said and attached her pack to the saddle.
“She’s not at all what I imagined, but she looks quite capable,” Kris said.
Kero turned her head over to look at Dirk and Talia, they were close together and appeared to be saying private goodbyes to each other. “She is at that.”
Dirk might have had a limp on the ground, but he mounted his Companion as smoothly as a Skybolt and seemed just as at ease in the saddle as any of Kero’s cousins. He attached his cane to a special spot on the saddle and was ready to go.
“Ah, what’s the lady—your Companion’s—name? Seems rude not to make introductions.” Kero said after a bit.
“Her name’s Ahrodie.” Dirk seemed wary.
“Well Ahrodie, I appolagize in advance for the treatment you will no doubt receive at the inns on the way. When we get to Bolthaven I will endeavor to see to it that you are treated like you deserve, as an intelligent, beautiful, representative of the gods themselves. Though it may still fall short of what you are used to in Valdemar where people are used to you.”
“I see you are familiar with Companions?” Dirk asked.
“My weapons master used to say they were a sign of the Godddess’s favor on the Heralds. I know they have the intellect of any human and can speak with their Heralds, but I’m not sure I would say I am familiar with them.”
Dirk smiled “Fair enough, I don’t even know if we Heralds can say we know the Companions well. In any regard, both Ahrodie and I thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
Kerowyn was pleased to see that Dirk slowly became less reticent. Finally one day he asked her The Question in her mind.
“So how did you become a mercenary anyway?” Though she was pleased to note there was no pity, only curiosity in his voice. “Didn’t really have a ton of other options,” Kero said with a shrug. “It was either train with my Clanmother to become a mercenary or stay at home and either become a maiden aunt living on my brother’s charity or wait for him to decide to marry me off. Fighting seemed the better option. What were you going to be before you were Chosen?”
“Probably a farmer,” he shrugged. “My parents have a steading in the far North of Valdemar. My Da’s a Bard, and my Ma’s a Healer and I have a whole slew of siblings. I didn’t really have a plan of what I was going to do before I was Chosen. I know I went through a phase where I wanted to grow up and join the Guard, but honestly I probably would have stayed right there if I hadn’t been Chosen.”
Kero smiled, “How old were you when you were Chosen?”
“Eleven. Kris was in the same year as me—we’re Oathbrothers.”
“My grandmother and my Clanmother were Oathsisters,” Kero remarked.
“Forgive me, but you don’t look Shin’i’ian,” Dirk said.
“Ah, that’s where the Oathsisters comes in. My Clanmother was the last of her Clan and in order to seek vengeance took a vow of celibacy—it makes sense if you’re Shin’i’ian—My grandmother vowed to repopulate the clan for her. All of her children were given a choice of becoming Clan or not, so while my mother did not, my cousins are, and I sort of have a Clan and sort of don’t. It’s complicated.”