Book 3: Chapter 4 – A Return to Normalcy [Part 2]
Book 3: Chapter 4 - A Return to Normalcy [Part 2]
An hour or two later, the rhythmic thunder of hooves broke her reverie. A group of twenty horsemen approached, their polished armor glinting fiercely in the sunlight, and their banners snapping proudly in the breeze, emblazoned unmistakably with her family’s crest—a spray of wisterias on a red field.
At the forefront rode Sir Frest, his distinctive armor gleaming proudly, taken as spoils from a fallen Royal Guard. His stern bearing and confident posture were immediately recognizable even from afar.
A cheer rose from the men as they drew close enough to recognize their lady, relief clear in their voices. Frest spurred forward at a steady canter, and his riders fell neatly into formation behind him.
Seraphina reined in Ember, her eyes wary but expectant. Frest dismounted fluidly, bending into a respectful bow, as the rest of his men formed a disciplined semicircle behind him, their faces a blend of respect, curiosity, and relief.
“Lady Seraphina,” Frest greeted, voice roughened by days on the road but warmly genuine. “Thank the Goddess we've found you unharmed. It has been many moons! Your mother was threatening to cut our heads off!”
She raised an eyebrow, allowing her irritation to slip through. “Took you long enough, Frest. I would like to say that I have been managing quite well without you, but I have been quite put out. Quite put out indeed.”
Behind Frest, a few men exchanged amused glances; one even suppressed a chuckle before quickly regaining his composure under Seraphina’s icy stare.
Straightening, Frest offered a contrite smile. “My deepest apologies, my lady. The countryside is infested with small Dragons—Wyrmlings, we've started calling them. They've made the roads and the countryside most perilous. Just yesterday, we nearly lost Sir Gracys to an ambush…”
Seraphina glanced sharply skyward, recalling vividly the Wyrm-drone she had encountered earlier. “Wyrmlings?” she echoed skeptically. “Surely they can’t be that formidable?”
“With disciplined men and strong steel, they're manageable,” Frest conceded with a respectful incline of his head. “But they’ve wreaked havoc upon farmsteads and villages. Only yesterday, we were forced to defend Gordes. We feared the worst—that they'd reached you first.”
Seraphina felt a reluctant warmth at his obvious concern, but concealed it behind a lingering scowl. While Frest had played the hero, she'd faced horrors far darker.
Still, a part of her was undeniably glad he had been the one to find her.
“Your father has sent search parties everywhere, defying even your mother’s wishes,” Frest continued hesitantly, glancing at his men for support. Several nodded grimly. “Just the other day, Lady Anaselena had a vision that directed us to this region. It appears her gift served true again.”
“I see,” Seraphina said softly, irritation melting slightly. “Then we ride to Troyes. It's the nearest semblance of civilization. We will rest there for the night.”
Frest straightened proudly, signaling his men into formation. “As you command, my lady. I'll dispatch a rider to the nearest Royal Post immediately, so your father may be informed.”
She inclined her head briefly in agreement.
The group rode onward, Frest close at her side and his men forming a disciplined protective ring. As the path broadened, passing farms and scattered hamlets, peasants halted their chores, staring warily at the armored procession. Many recognized her family’s crest; others were transfixed by the serpent heads of Cornelia peeking curiously from Seraphina’s tunic. She ignored the stares, thoughts already moving ahead to sleeping in a proper bed.
Eventually, Frest broke the silence, cautious but undeniably curious. “Milady, what actually happened? Mere hours after leaving you, we saw an enormous Dragon soaring in the skies, just like the old tales. Some claimed a red giant knight engaged the creature. Others mentioned a terrible monster in the nearby woods. Yes, even adventurers from Meridian had been sent to slay the beast.”
Seraphina carefully spun a tale, stretching Frest's belief but never crossing into outright impossibility. His men murmured incredulously at first, some shaking their heads discreetly behind their leader's back, but they fell silent as Seraphina’s compelling presence took hold. Frest himself never showed doubt, listening intently and occasionally nodding, admiration plainly evident in his expression.
Of her encounter in the village, she merely commented cryptically that villagers had found her after a river mishap. As for the "monster" in the woods, she dismissed it casually that it must have been just a larger-than-usual Wyrmling. Her account of defeating Balalazanga, however, drew audible gasps, their eyes wide with amazement and disbelief.
At times like these, she was extremely grateful for her ridiculously high Charisma attribute. It just made life smoother. It certainly made for a more palatable tale than the massacre that had actually happened.
After a moment of thoughtful silence, Frest finally spoke, his voice cautiously intrigued. “So, Lady Seraphina, what’s the plan from here? If we could somehow reclaim the red giant...”
“Yes, I suppose,” she said slowly, thoughtfully stroking one of Cornelia's heads. However, her thoughts lingered on the lost Scepter of Wisdom, a potent tool if she were able to reclaim it.
“The giant could indeed be valuable,” she admitted. The girl knew full well, however, that without fuel it was all but useless. “But I believe there’s even greater opportunity in recovering the Dragon’s corpse.”
“And you know where it fell, milady?” Frest asked with cautious excitement.
“I am the daughter of an Oracle, and I faced and defeated the beast myself, Sir Frest,” she snapped dryly, earning her a wince from Frest. “You tell me. And have your man also carry a message to my maid Miriam: instruct her to acquire the Calabrian Bogs. It’s worthless land and should cost no more than a pittance.”
Frest blinked once, then simply nodded, suppressing a small smile. The man was just glad that his Lady was back and was up to her usual shenanigans. “Of course, Lady Seraphina.”
They continued onward, the rhythmic clopping of hooves filling the silence as the sun descended gently toward the horizon. Soon, the spires of Troyes rose before them, silhouetted warmly against the fading daylight.
At a checkpoint, they encountered a portly merchant vehemently arguing over tolls with an exasperated guard. Frest calmly intervened, his measured authority quickly resolving the dispute. The merchant hastily retreated, recognizing the heavily armed riders behind the knight.
The sturdy stone walls and bustling gates of Troyes soon loomed into view. Guards, quickly noting the familiar crest, waved them through without question. Within, the narrow streets overflowed with merchants enthusiastically hawking wares, children darting and laughing, and the air was thick with the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet wine. Seraphina felt an unexpected sense of relief at returning to civilization, modest though it was.
Frest guided them to a well-appointed inn, its sign proudly depicting a golden stag. Dismounting, he turned respectfully toward her. “My lady, the guard recommended this establishment highly. Shall we stay here tonight?”
“Yes,” Seraphina replied, sliding gracefully from Ember's saddle. “Arrange lodging for myself and your men.”
“As you wish,” Frest bowed again, signaling the innkeeper—a wiry man whose eyes flickered nervously at the impressive entourage—to come forward.
With the servility common to his station, the innkeeper led the highborn lady to her room. Inside, Seraphina settled in, took off her shoes, and lay on the bed with Cornelia nestled comfortably around her. She lay there for a few minutes before she got up to peer from the window at the lively street below.
Seraphina had never thought this day would come, that she would be almost grateful to return to the Academy. She felt a small spark of determination fill her now that she was almost back to where she belonged.