Book 3: Chapter 59: A Promise of Betrayal
Morning came with an unnatural stillness that clung to the dew-covered grounds of Gilwren Manor in a dense fog, which glimmered with the moving torches of Bastiallano knights, who had begun to break camp at the crack of dawn.
The nobles roused much later, laden by their own liquor-induced struggles. Those who could move trod up the gravel path to the manor for the Viscount’s promised breakfast, leaving their servants to scurry about in their wake, packing and prepping to return to their respective estates.
Carina observed them through the vision of the silver hawk scriva that circled above the manor as the ice witch waited beneath the open canopy of the officer’s tent. Just hours ago, she had bid an early farewell to both Hana and Ivy as her friends were conveyed back to the Duchy’s fortress with Captain Silas and half of her troops.
The glamorous gowns that the Duchess had worn during the Royal Hunt were now replaced with a chest plate adorned with Bastiallano’s winter wolf, chain mail sleeves, and split skirt, with studded leather cuisses beneath and plated metal greaves strapped around her riding boots.
The ice witch's unfocused ice-blue eyes blinked as she disconnected with the hawk. Her gaze quickly narrowed in on the hunched man in muddy traveling garments that was being escorted towards her by Lieutenant Olund. Carina rose from her seat, the fingers of her right hand inching reflexively toward the hilt of the sword worn on her left, until she noted the faint image of a burning blade painted on the scruffy man’s ragged jacket shoulder.
“Your Grace,” the grubby spy wheezed out as he offered her a clumsy bow. “They doubled back just like you thought they might. They’re waiting for you at the bridge crossing over Vesper River.”
The ice witch nodded as she turned to examine the small map pinned down by rocks on a table before her, the only furniture left in the tent beside her chair. She traced the return road to the capital and tapped on the marked bridge and river. “And their number? Still six hundred?”
“A bit less than that,” the spy replied as he shuffled closer to the table. “Some of them didn’t like how the Marquess changed his mind after issuing the command to withdraw. Some of them were worried about the rumors of elemental beasts under your Grace's command. Sixty or so left, our men included. But Captain Weylin remained, and most of the men followed him. Those that stayed are eager enough for a fight.”