Chapter III

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A Return

 

Five years later, in the Spring season of the year, Jaquen and Drak were seen riding to the North gate of Crys upon the flowers of the celebration the night before. The blooms of the trees were still quite strong, and the dominant colors of the scene were radiance and life. Yet within the two, there was a definite sadness. A longing for something ungotten from their stay in Crys.

The council had given their blessing to the two last night, and the entire city of Crys had given their toast to see the two off, but these two things had merely weighed that much more heavily on the two as they journeyed to leave the city. Jaquen knew now the state of Acrea, and knew quite well that the council there (for they had no newly elected king, but only a keeper) would not be expecting his return. Joy would not be the description of either this departure, or Jaquen guessed, his return to Acrea.

People along the streets bowed or tipped their hats as the two went by. The blacksmiths were all out that morning sharpening their tools, for in the Spring there would be plenty to fix and mend for other people in the city, but the day after the celebration would be the breath before that rush. The wives along with their children were also about outside, sweeping up all the dust from the night before. Their husbands all preparing for their venture south of the city to tend fields and hunting and fishing.

There were the new bee-hives to be placed for the bee swarms to be split and then placed according to which fields needed them the most. There were the plows that needed sharpening, and the ropes and tassels on the horses that needed mending and strengthening with new leather. All were busy about their work for the coming seasons.

Harn had left the day before, not wishing much for celebrations of such folly, as he called it. But rather he wished for the peace of being alone in the south. He wished to go hunting alone, in the Deep South, where strange creatures could readily be found. Both Jaquen and Drak had said their goodbyes to him and seen him off at the Southern Bridge, which had now been built into a gate, and the shore along that river fortified with an earthen wall. Harn didn’t have much to say that was profound, but rather simply said goodbye and was off.

Jaquen checked his sword again, to make sure it was secure for the ride. As soon as they were outside the city, the two would ride hard North to make the edge of the woods by sundown. It could easily be a two days’ journey if one took their time, and to many the plan to reach the edge of the woods by sundown seemed well out of the question. They might be able to reach the Haerd Tree in the time, but not the edge of the forest, they’d say. But in Jaquen was a deep need to be in his real home, to which Crys had never seemed a real home to him in heart.

“Ahh…” Drak said beside Jaquen.

Jaquen looked up and there at the North Gate stood the council and a host of others, waiting to see them off. Jaquen grunted in reply, “I suppose they wouldn’t let us go in peace. I can tell you easily a good number of the council members who would rather us not be here.”

Drak gave a wide smile back at Jaquen, “And what have we been known to care about as far as the council goes?”

“Very little,” Jaquen said quietly, “but it was still in our best interest that they assented to our being here.”

Drak fell silent and shook his head.

Olf stood from his seat and waved for them to stop. There was a great crowd upon both sides of the gate, and they all were lined perfectly with children in between. All solemn and looking at them, not speaking or moving until the council had first their own say. Olf looked at both of them with pride and even the faint hints of a smile seemed to tug at his old face, but they fast disappeared as was his way.

Jaquen and Drak pulled up to Olf and stopped three feet away. He was seated a good twenty paces in front of the gate, in the middle of the road, and it felt good to Jaquen to have one more thing barring him from that great destiny beyond the gates. It was altogether maddening what he was heading into.

“Last night’s celebration did not do well to prepare us for this morning,” Olf spoke firmly. “So it ‘tis that I allowed those citizens that would to come and see you off at the start. It seemed that much more well that I did so when I considered the fact that some among us do not wish to say goodbye alone…”

Jaquen glanced at Drak with a bit of a grin. Drak kept his eyes on Olf.

“Then there are all of us who wish to express how deeply we will miss you…and…” Olf hesitated as if he were going to say something deeply close to him, but then he stopped and regained himself, “how much we hope that peace will once again firmly exist between men and Raenoe’s.”

Jaquen nodded formally.

Olf raised his hand and then sat down. The guards in front of the crowds stood aside and the people rushed forward around the two. Jaquen and Drak were showered with fond wishes, and many hearty rounds of good luck, upon which a morsel of something or two was stuffed into a sack that would then be tied to their saddles. Many people that Jaquen and Drak had come to know, friends and almost family to them were all there wishing a grand journey and a long reign. It was as if their entire life from when they’d first come here until now had come and wished them well. All were there except for Dunar.

Jaquen wished them all equally the same, and then he dismounted and walked forward to Olf who was now sitting to the side of the road. He came to him and bowed, “Sir.”

Olf nodded, “Your reluctance to go baffles me Jaquen. You’ve been raised for this day.”

“Even so,” Jaquen replied, “even though my heart is not here, I cannot get past the fact that my heart is for a land I’ve never known save in tale alone.”

Olf nodded again solemnly, “When you get there you will find your hear is there. The grand splendor of the land will wrap you up as soon as you set foot inside the gates. The land itself will be your heart.”

Jaquen smiled a bit, “I look forward to calling it my home.”

“I do not think that Crys will ever welcome you again as it has before. I know that for one, the council on the whole was never entirely satisfied with your being here. Five years ago after the Battle of the Fog Bank, the council met again with an even more heated discussion about sending you home right then and there. Not many among them were ready to ignore the fact that the Shadices rose up simply because one among them was after you. They readily realized that you posed a threat as this world was still seeking after you.”

“But I went south…”

“Even so, they wished you gone. I believe they even relaxed a bit when you went on that crusade southward. Although most of our army was gone with you, the council seemed very much at ease that you were in the south as opposed to here. There were some who even suggested that if an army was to come, they could simply give them directions to where you were and they’d leave our city alone. Foolish of them perhaps to think so, yet they did.”

Jaquen bowed again, “I thank you ever so much for you support of me. I do not know where I would be today if it weren’t for you, Drak, and…”

Olf nodded knowingly, “About Drak. I do not know if you quite understand this, but let me tell you. There is something about him that I do not quite know of him. There is a secret about him, or about his past. Be sure that if his past comes looking for him that you are well aware of it, and ready to believe whatever it is that comes of it.”

“Does he know how he came here?”

“Of course, same as you. But I think he is less worried about himself as he is simply ready to follow you wherever you go. I honestly couldn’t think of a better companion to send you off with.”

Jaquen looked back to Drak. As soon as he looked back he broke out in a great smile. In his arms, well off the ground was Selace. Drak had her by his own strength, as he stayed on the horse. In a moment he let her down and he himself jumped down with her. Jaquen turned back and bowed one last time to Olf, “It is time we were here no longer.”

Olf nodded and waved his hand, “Be off with you.”

Jaquen waded back through the people and mounted his horse. The saddle was now quite full of bags, sacks and things of all sorts tied to it. In front and behind him. It was a custom, but one ever so appreciated even though customary. Jaquen shook hands and waved goodbye to many people as he took his horse to the gate. Once at the gate he turned his horse sideways in the archway, looking back for Drak.

Drak looked at Jaquen from beside Selace’s head. He held her close to him and was saying something that could not be discerned. Jaquen gave him a careless wave and waited for him. The people began to climb atop the gateway to wave at them all the way to hill where the land dropped away from the city and the road would take them away north. Jaquen was unconcerned with the journey now, and waited for Drak. His mood was much improved at this meeting at the gates, and felt as if the challenge before him was not so great indeed.

Drak remounted his horse and bent down one last time, kissing Selace even though it was solidly forbidden by her father. Then he came upright and bade his horse take him forward. The maiden Selace stayed in that same spot back in the road and watched him leave. A white pillar was she, standing solemnly, as one who waits for her love to return from war. At the gate Drak turned once again toward her and gave his final farewell, which was readily answered.

“Women do complicate things don’t they?” Jaquen said rolling his eyes.

Drak looked at him with a grin, “Don’t they...I believe I’ll take the added problem.”

Jaquen kicked his horse and galloped off away from the city. Drak kept close behind, Pearl, as always, right beside the horse. They reached the hill and with a slight pause began down it. The city was then obscured by the hill and the people in it saw the last of one Jaquen and his companion Drak.

 

* * *

The journey lasted two days’ hard riding. The first day they passed through a great deal of oak country, which mixed lightly with beech and aspen trees. Very tall trees they were, and many of them thick with great years. Above the two riders great canopy’s spread about, coving great areas without letting in but a little sunlight. One could not guess where these two were riding, only one who knew this forest well could imagine a path through such a place.

The trees were wide apart from each other as if groomed in such a way, but they were also very confusing if one did not know about them, for they could all easily look the same. Yet Jaquen knew his way to the Acrean gates quite well. Unbeknownst to many he’d actually made the trek several times simply to sit in a high tree and look at the white gates. Olf knew about one of the trips, as he himself had taken Jaquen and Drak there. Yet the trip was one that Jaquen and Drak had taken many times, although never like this. On this trip they were to go beyond those gates that they had sat and watched for so long.

In his heart Jaquen knew there was a hesitation for passing the gates, but he also knew that he was born for going beyond that barrier into the adventure that lay beyond. Drak had had his own doubts about going beyond it, but after their campaign into the south he didn’t seem to have much doubt on anything anymore. Jaquen was thankful for such a companion. Yet he wondered what Olf had meant when he had spoken of Drak as he did.

When they stopped the first night they were beside a great hill that went down to meet the river. The view was absolutely spectacular to anyone who’d never grown up with it. To Jaquen and Drak it was a suitable place to set up a camp. The night was clear, and they had no need of hunting as their packs were quite full of provisions from the gates, so it was that when they stopped it was well past the sunset.

Neither did much talking on the road northward. Jaquen’s own mind was clouded over with what was before him, and Drak would constantly turn to look at the road over his shoulder. Pearl ran on beside his master regardless of either’s state of mind. It seemed that out of the three, Pearl was the least worried about the coming events. It was different between them though, and Drak worried about it. The silence between them was uncommon, even during their trying times before they had always talked between them.

The rested that night easily. The night proved uneventful and they banked their fire early the next morning. They ate a light breakfast as they left camp, and did not ride hard until the sun was halfway up between morning and mid-day. They rode on until they came into more hilly country, which marked they were bearing in on the northward lands below the Acrean Mountains. There they stopped for a meal while their horses grazed and sought water out of the nearby stream. Rainwater was coming out of the mountains constantly, and the little stream that was at their feet now was a product of one.

Drak sat leaning against a tree facing south, and Jaquen sat against a tree facing north. Jaquen pondered the Mountains in the distance. He bit off a part of an apple and thought about what he was to do that next day. Indeed it would be an interesting first meeting between himself and the council of Acrea.

“Do you think Selace would ever leave Crys to follow after me?” Drak asked all of a sudden.

Jaquen craned his neck to look back at him, “What?”

Drak answered slowly, “What if Selace left Crys and came to Acrea, even in spite of her father?”

Jaquen rolled his eyes, “Selace will wait in Crys just like you asked her to. You notice that she didn’t follow you to the gates of Crys…I’d take that as a sign that she will do as you say, even though you’re not officially her master.”

“I don’t think I could ever take the position of master over her.”

Jaquen smiled, “There’s really no other title for it, but you and I both know the real relationship between a man and a woman. Saying the man is the master is just like saying the man with the sword is the guy who’s going to do the killing. It’s a simple thing to think about. If there’s a decision to be made, the man makes it. But he doesn’t leave his woman out of it. She is his beautiful maiden for him to rescue day and night, and is not someone to leave for pride’s sake.”

Drak grunted in assent, “I just wish her father were a bit more believing in me. I don’t know what he sees in that pottish boy Dirk.”

Jaquen shrugged and took another bite of this apple, “You know that even if her father pressures her to do what he wants, she won’t give in. Did you leave her that thing you wanted to?”

Drak nodded slowly, “She has it.”

“Then I don’t think you’ll have to worry about her waiting for you. She’ll be here when you come back for her. By the way,” he said after another bite, “what did old Gerald want you to do to be a ‘worthy’ suitor?”

Drak hung his head, “He wants me to find out my lineage,” Then he paused and turned back to Jaquen. “That’s what bothers me Jaquen. It’s the way he said it. It was like he knew that that would be enough reason for me not to court Selace.”

Jaquen tossed the rest of his apple over his shoulder, “What could be so bad about you that he thinks you wouldn’t still court Selace. Even if your parents were the meanest in the land, that doesn’t mean you’re the same.”

“What if I am something horrible Jaquen? I’ve been wondering lately if I really am a man. I don’t get as cold during winter…”

“Doesn’t mean anything. Personally Drak…” Jaquen said putting a hand on his shoulder, “you could be the son of a Black Knight and I wouldn’t call you any less my brother.”

Drak looked at him questioningly, “I don’t think you realize the relationship of what you said.”

“I think I do, and I meant it. Besides, you’ll probably figure out you’re no worse than a son of some fat lord who’s been dead for 20 years anyway.”

Jaquen walked back to his horse and made sure all of his packs were tight. Bringing the reigns back to the saddle he mounted just as Drak was coming back to get his horse. Pearl was at his feet now and Drak bent down and scratched him behind the ears.

“Thank you brother,” Drak said as he mounted his horse. “What you say gives me the strength to face whatever it is I find. But will you swear by your words before that you will not think less of me even if my family is so horrid.”

Jaquen raised his right hand and placed his left hand, still holding the reigns, over his heart, “I do solemnly swear by all the power vested in me as a brat of the forest that you, my brother Drak, will remain my brother though all the bad family in the land come to visit you.”

Drak grinned.

Jaquen wheeled his horse about and kicked it to once again take up their journey.

 

***

The plains before the gate of Acrea were foggy that morning. And as best as Jaquen could tell that morning was the 42^nd of April, and coming quite close to when Spring was about done with it’s course. The sky was completely shrouded by the dense fog that had wandered out of the forest, but as best as either of them could tell, the sun had not risen enough to take care of that problem.

They’d spent the night there on the edge of the forest and plain, taking in the sight of the Acrean gates very late in the night. From what they could make out, from the torchlight and the gates that stood ajar. A party of sorts had been made, followed by the changing of the flag standard from a white one to a red and black one.

Jaquen still did not know all there was about how Acrea was being run in this day, but he knew that the council was doing a poor job in keeping the kingdom together. That was saying it in a nice way. They were as corrupt as could be, and Jaquen knew that friends in such a place would be very hard to come by.

He rested his hands on top of his saddle as he tried to make out the gates that morning, “I don’t know a better way to get past the gates. It seems that we’ll have to take the ill-manners of the gate guards in stride and pass on as best we can. I just don’t like the look of this though.”

“Who are we I wonder, coming out of the forest, or the open road even worse. You know very well that they still don’t welcome wanderers,” Drak replied.

Jaquen thought a bit, “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to get by somehow, although I just hope that they’re in a drunken enough mood as to not want to pester us with questions.”

“So you’re saying it’d probably be best if there weren’t any men of good character in that lot?”

“For now yes.”

Drak sat back in his saddle with a smile, “Well then…shall we?”

Jaquen looked back at the gate with a hard expression. It was time to take the role of a king, “Yes…I think it is quite time that we should go.”

 

***

A gate guard stumbled upon some loose spears on his way outside. He cursed loudly, even though the sound of it was incomprehensible with the amount of slurring. As he walked in a crazy fashion with mouth agape, he lifted a bottle to his lips and drank a great amount. Then he stopped walking as he came to the ghostly plains.

He looked about with a lost expression and then yelled out, “Ay! We’ve fallen off de map! Naught but a bit clouds is me doorstep naow. God in heaven I welcome ye to me home!” With quite an exaggerated bow he tripped and fell into a pile of mud.

Disgusted he got up and began staggering back to the gates.

“How does God like it here?”

The man turned and looked over his shoulder. Out of the fog came two wraithlike forms on horses. He cried out and ran as best he could towards the gates. But he tripped and fell several times and made little progress. Even so, his spectacle reached the ears of his comrades and soon a raggedy band was assembled before the gates. Hardly able to maintain hold of their weapons, yet they were there all the same.

One man among them though seemed much better maintained than all the rest. He stood straight and proud, clean shaven he was with his hair tied neatly down his back. His armor was polished, even though he was not fully dressed for a combat, and everything about him spoke of a leader. He stood in front of the shaky band now.

“What is your business?”

Jaquen spoke quickly and easily, “Our business is with a higher court than these. I bring word from a far country and it is quite important to those who run this kingdom. Perhaps enough to change them in a shocking way.”

“Perhaps we can inspire a presentation, as you won’t be getting to this higher court without first getting through us. Or do you plan on cutting your way through.”

Jaquen didn’t move, “I doubt it would prove such a hard task seeing the state of your men.”

The man glanced over his shoulder, “Who do you wish to see, and where will your heading be?”

“Our need drives us to the Main, where the council should be able to be found in time.”

“I’d say so, they’ll be meeting today in fact. By this afternoon I’d wager you’ll find an audience with them. But I guard these gates from dangerous foreigners. And it’s been a long time since I’ve had much news from this side of the gate so I’m curious, how goes the world outside my own?”

“The world I am in league with is much more interested in effecting yours, although I am given my own instructions as not to converse with all initially about our task.”

The man gave a tug of a smile, but besides this gave no emotion, “That could mean a great many things, least of which I’m sure is meant to harm anyone within these mountains.”

“I believe I’ve pointed out before, doing harm would not be hard in your case, for I see a great many unprepared guards.”

The Captain was showing his agitation now, “Tell me who you are quickly and then be on your way, for I tire of this conversation and neither I nor my men have to answer to you for the way we behave.”

Drak looked over at Jaquen. Jaquen couldn’t see it, but Drak was smiling broadly. Jaquen acknowledged the movement with only a slight twist of his head. He was thinking now of what would be a good answer in this way, as very little needed to be said to give the impression of who they truly were. He knew some of who they were had to be given away, but not too much as to elicit a full escort into the city they wished to go to, nor did they wish to have runners spread the news of his return in such a display. Although, he reasoned, there was an opportunity here to save trouble at the next gate.

“We are messengers from the south, the ruler of the city from which we come has a wish to establish a relationship of trust, by word rather than by physical means of trade or war.”

The Captain considered this for a moment, putting his hand to his chin and resting the other leisurely on the hilt of his sword. Finally he spoke, “As courier’s of this fine southern city, I’m sure you would not mind showing us some sign of such. I for one wish to keep my lords alive, as I’m sure the men in your city would as well.”

Jaquen sighed and then reached back into his pack from the gates. After feeling around for a bit he produced a small box intricately made and rather official looking despite it. He held out the object to the Captain, “I must warn you however, that regardless of what happens to me. If you open this box before he who it’s made for sees it, I must kill you.”

The Captain looked up at Jaquen out of the corner of his eye as he held the box. He studied the workings for a long time, clearly enraptured by its intricacy. Jaquen sat patiently as Drak shifted uneasily. Jaquen sincerely hoped that the Captain didn’t attempt to open it.

At last the Captain handed it back to Jaquen, “It’s pretty enough, but perhaps something a bit more official would convince us such as your personal orders?”

“You’ll remember Captain, that even by your own rules couriers have no written orders,” Jaquen said easily stowing the box back in his pack.

The Captain nodded, and then jerked as if something caught his eye. He was staring at Jaquen’s left hand and decided to walk a bit closer, apparently no longer suspicious of the two. Jaquen felt a difference in the man and wondered if there was in fact a real sense of justice in him. He came directly in between Drak and Jaquen and studied Jaquen’s ring for a moment and then looked directly up into his hood.

“A word of caution my lord,” He said quietly but with genuine care in his voice, “even though I will have a written pass for you for the other gates, I can do nothing to help you at the council. My allegiance here is based strictly on payment, and may be the only thing that keeps this valley from warring against each other. I still have the king’s justice within my veins, but I’ve been waiting a bit too long for your return,” He glanced back at his men.

“Know that if I gave you more than a pass here my own allegiance to payment would be laid bare and known to be compromised. The best I can do is make a show of corruption by having my men indulge, but sire…I have waited ever since I was a boy to serve you as my King.”

Jaquen nodded slowly, “I know your truth now, and I believe your words. I will not forget your holding to truth. When I need a man to trust in, I will remember your name first.”

“Bowe, and if it weren’t for this job as a gate watchman, you might say I was a merry fellow,” He said with a wink. Bowe waved for the gate to be opened as he walked back. He spoke to a man standing guard and the man went hurrying off.

Jaquen and Drak came up to the gate slowly and sat waiting. Their mounts were clearly unnerved by the display of arms and the waiting to get through the gates. Drak was not in a better mood. Jaquen on the other hand seemed to be lightening all the more. He was very encouraged by the fact that some still held to his coming.

Bowe sat on a nearby chair in front of a table and waited for a moment. The man that he had sent off came back suddenly with a piece of paper and an ink well. Bowe waved him off and began writing. After a few moments he made quite a flourish on the paper and then folded it three times. He walked up to Jaquen and handed it to him, a great smile on his face.

“I am honored to live in this time. Please be the savior to these people that they need. There has not been a time where this kingdom has needed one worse.”

Jaquen put the paper in his shirt and nodded to Bowe, “I will send for you soon.”

Bowe bowed slightly and stepped back so they could pass.

Jaquen had been looking at what was beyond the gates for several minutes now, but could see no more than buildings. As soon as they were in the gateway though he saw that there were no more than a handful of buildings. One, a tavern, the other a blacksmith, a stable, and a small group of houses. Once they were on the other side of the gates though Jaquen could now see down into the valley. He stopped his horse and simply looked at the hills.

The gates sat on a hill that went down to a bridge that went over a mountain stream that flowed from one mountain into the other. On the other side of the bridge the road went down and began its twisting way on into the wide valley to where it’s first and foremost destination was the castle Main. In the far distance Jaquen could see the walls, but it too was shrouded in mist. It would be well into the afternoon before they got there and evening by the time they could expect to be close to the councilmen.

“I knew that I’d see this sight ever since I can remember, Drak,” He said quietly. “You don’t know what it’s like to see it now.”

Drak turned and looked over his shoulder, “I’d rather see it a little closer than where I’m sitting right now.”

Jaquen grinned to himself and prodded his horse back into movement, unable to take his face from the hazy hills of his valley home. They passed the tavern while men looked at them from the windows, wide-eyed behind a tankard of beer. The blacksmith stopped his pounding as the figures rode through, and a handful of other people came out of where they were working to see these two that were passing through. They gathered behind them in the road as Jaquen and Drak got to the bridge and began to cross.

“I didn’t expect the welcome to be quite like this,” Drak said.

Jaquen shook his head slightly, “I am glad that Dunar made me read all those histories and books now. I know these people…”

 

***

Jaquen believed it to be unreasonable that there would be a long line of people at the next gate, and that there would most likely be no line at all as there was not much reason for there to be a great many people in the Main other than the normal population. He was frustrated to find out that this particular part of life in Acrea had slipped his reading and general knowledge, for there was indeed a great long line of people in front of the gates. Many of them had three or four wagons in their company, either empty or full of some kind of supply.

This was the only part that had irritated him about Acrea thus far. He had ridden all the way in easy silence as he took in all the details of the valley that he had only been able to imagine before from words in a book. Jaquen would consistently point out things to Drak as they rode along, but it was no more than a note and hardly passed for conversation. Pearl was almost beside himself as he chased rabbits and other field animals as they went along the road toward the castle.

They passed houses every so often. That they were coming up to a house was always marked by fields and on occasion there would be a small field surrounded by a fence for pasture animals such as cows. Aside from farm animals there were no other signs of prosperity. The crops themselves were often meager and showed sign of bad seed purchases, but the furrows were of true Acrean type. Hard and true. Even though bad may have been handed to these people, they were not content with anything save doing their best at trying to make what they had worthwhile in the end.

Houses became more numerous as they came closer to the city, but stopped altogether as they came to the river before the castle Main. There they encountered the line outside the city, which stretch from the gates to the southern side of the bridge.

When they’d arrived Jaquen had only looked at it in disbelief. It was already near on the fifth hour past noon and the sun was close to starting its descent into sunset. This new discovery was different than what he had expected to find, but instead he decided to wait like the rest and not worry about what would happen. Drak agreed that nothing would come of being irritated and that their errand perhaps did not merit cutting in line. If Jaquen were any less reluctant to engage the council he would have forgone the wait and moved ahead in line. But as he knew it did not matter when he confronted them they stayed. Perhaps indeed it would be best to see them at a meal when they are most unawares.

The people coming out of the city were all haggard looking. Many pulled their carts themselves, without horses the goods they were able to carry were actually very small in amount. All of their expressions was that of defeated existence. Jaquen watched them the most as they went by. Then a man among them slowly trudged through the mud pulling a particularly small amount of food goods. His nose was unnaturally large by way of gin, and his cheeks were under the same influence. Even though there was this way about him, he looked up at Jaquen with no smile apparent on his face and met his gaze. He slowed for a moment, standing up a bit straighter, and then bent down on his load again.

Jaquen watched the old man go on into the crowd of houses behind them across the bridge and then looked down at Pearl who was standing looking up at him panting.

“What?”

Pearl drew his tongue back in and cocked his head. He yawned and looked behind him at the others and then lay down at the horses feet, his head on his paws. Jaquen shook his head and looked forward again at the long line that barely moved as the day progressed.

Drak had lit his pipe and was now putting all sorts of designs into the air, much to the amusement of those in line behind them. It was indeed an interesting trick, but none that amusing to Jaquen as he knew the secrets behind such a display. He found great interest in the display of poverty around him. It seemed that things had grown worse since the last report on Acrea had reached him. Olf and he had predicted this turn of events throughout their discussions, but Jaquen indeed could not imagine that it would’ve come on so suddenly.

His roving eyes finally settled on a man on a cart directly in front of them. The old man sat with his back on the side of the cart, one leg arched up so his right elbow could rest on it and the other was lolling over the edge. Behind him was a mound of fleeces tied together in a bundle with a leather covering. He was just as haggard looking as all the rest of the people, but he was a bit stockier than the rest and denoted a bit of proper meal eating.

The Old man noticed his looking and spoke up unafraid, “Where you be from?” He said pointing at the two of them with the mouth part of his pipe.

Pearl brought his head up and looked at the man.

Jaquen sat a bit straighter and answered, “We’re from beyond the gates, to the south.”

The man nodded and put the pipe back in his mouth, after a good breathing in on it he pointed back quickly, “Y’know wanderers aren’t welcome in these parts.”

Jaquen nodded, “But then why aren’t they?”

The Old man shrugged, “King said it twas so, that is before he left on that search a his. Never did come back from it, though a great many of us wish he’d had.”

“I wish he had as well.”

“What family are ye’ from?”

Drak shot him a look. Jaquen knew he couldn’t rightly answer the question, “What am I that I should tell you of my family? I suppose I’m some impudent young boy that runs through the streets?  I may not be so ancient as you to have seen many wars, but I do understand enough to know that I should ask you of your family before you would ask me of mine.”

“Brrr-hmm,” the old man replied. “I can see your father was a man of noble rights as to teach his son to neglect the common man.  I may be taken in by my son’s family but when you are of age I suspect you’ll appreciate the kindness too.” The old man by now was sitting sideways with his left leg dangling off the edge as the cart slowly moved up.  He cracked a smile, “But lads with spirit such as yours change the face of the world.  Would I were your age again.  Back when I was I rode under the banner of Ardread, the Red knight.  Aye, what a time it was too.  Back when wanderers were kindly to the Acrean people, and us to them.  Those were the days.”

Jaquen suppressed a smile at the old man’s memories, but he encouraged him further, “You are young enough to swallow no insult, but your speaking of older days interests me.  I wonder if I might persuade a tale from such days?”

The old man whipped out his pipe and pointed it to Jaquen, “Now it is your turn to pry now aye?  But when an old man asks about family when he sees a man riding a fine horse he is told to be quiet. Hah.” The old man held the pipe in his mouth for a bit, then looked at the two out of the corner of his eyes with the makings of a fond grin.

Jaquen spoke quietly, “I’m on an errand that begs to be kept secret for now. If I were able to let those know of why we come I would very easily, as I know I do not come on any sad mission. In truth I’ve not been here since back when the Arrackmen clans of Sectil and Rit raided these lands.”

The old man let his head droop side-ways, pipe hanging in his hand, “Nasty time…many parents sent their children away if they knew a man that’d take ‘em.  I was lucky to live through such a time.  I’m sorry lad for tryin’ ye when ye yourself couldn’t answer the question.  I sincerely hope you find your house and claim what inheritance they’ve left ye.  But for now I’ll tell ye about my wild times.”

Drak sighed and went back to smoking. Jaquen also relaxed and even smiled at the old man behind his shadows of his cloak. It was good to see joy still in the people.

The old man let both of his legs dangle off the side now as he sat up, pipe down beside him.  He rubbed his hands together very quickly, licking his lips and then looking up at the sky as if he was studying some far off bird.  He began, “It was nigh on fifty-years ago when I rode out with Ardread.  Ye see, our claim had just been attacked and most of our cattle been driven off to the mountains.  Fire came sweeping across our fields with no way to stop ‘em, so after we’d dug the required trenches we took horses and rode out after them in one big body.  I’d have to say 20 score of us.  Not a fair amount of men by far, but ah, those were the wild days o’ mine and I didn’t care if only one score had come with us.

“Back then my own father was still around to shepherd me into wisdom.  We rode together, father and son.  Chargin’ out among the fields and hills beside four hundred some other men on the trail of those Arrackmen dogs.  All the while the Red knight was with us.  Personally I don’t know why he came, sure it was his claim to protect but, it wasn’t like the scum had done that much damage nor posed that much of a threat.  I more suspect he was tired of being at court.  But who am I to question what the lords do in their houses?

“Anyhow, there we were goin’ up the mountain paths when all of a sudden there be a whole army just waitin’ for us at the top of ol’ Wersher pass.  All I wanted to do was kill a few of ‘em and take their knives.  But that wouldn’t do for ‘em, nope. I suppose they were spoilin’ for sport too ‘cause they gave us an awful time takin’ back that pass, what with the lookout positions and all.  I tell you they didn’t want to give it up for anything in the world.

“But Ardread wouldn’t have to do with goin’ back for help, no sir, he just gave yelp and plunged in. Can’t blame ‘im though. I thought I was mad for the scum takin’ a few of my heifers, he was a bit upset over them bein’ where they were at all. Still, jolly good fight I have to say. When he went in my father and I dug into our horses and held on for dear life.  There was no turnin’ back down the mountain and no goin’ down without a fight. I’d say we came out well in the end.”

“You caused a major Arrackmen offensive to end before it began.  The Arrackmen that drove off your cattle were there to scout before the actual battle. It was an amazing feat that 400 men could’ve stormed the Wersher pass in so short a time,” Jaquen replied.

“Oh I see now,” the old man said. “You were there too aye?”

Jaquen grinned a little, “I’ve studied the histories of this valley and I know of your Red Knight. I am jealous that you were able to ride with him.”

This seemed to content the old man very much.  He leaned back into the cart full of provisions and puffed at his pipe, smiling. He stretched out his legs to the side and crossed them, merely looking back and smiling.

Before it was their turn to speak to the guard Jaquen asked, “What is your name in case I may see you again?”

“I fancy it would be a blessing to you that we not see each other again,” the old man replied. “But in the chance that we do, and I would indeed love to take up our previous conversation, my name is Barmane, of the stables in Flacrea.  Stop by anytime you wish, the place is always open.” The old man waved goodbye as the cart pulled into the city, quickly tucking his hand back under his pipe-hand soon thereafter, grinning.

The guards at the gate came up and Jaquen quickly brought out the paper Bowe had given him. The guards looked up at Jaquen and Drak and then at Pearl and then waved them on through. Apparently too busy to worry about the why’s or why not’s that a couple men looking like wanderer’s would be coming into the city in such a way.

As Jaquen passed the gate into the city he managed to spot a man who was eyeing them carefully. He was testing his blade with his hand and grinning back at them. Jaquen looked away from him promptly and focused back on the city. It was worse inside than outside.

There in the middle of the road stood the old fountain that Jaquen had seen in pictures and paintings. In tales and paintings it stood tall and proud without blemish, and completely white, but what stood before Jaquen now was covered in weeds, and slime was about the cracks in the stone. Dark lines came down from where rain-water had run through and carried only a fraction of the dirt out of the whole. Its surroundings were equally in disrepair, and ugliness of something far more beautiful.

Jaquen rode his horse up to it from the side and looked down into the fountain. He saw his reflection in the midst of the slime. Drak came up beside him instinctually, but after seeing what he was doing he simply sat back and looked around at the town. Jaquen sat and stared at the water, simply shaking his head and inside feeling a deep anger at what had happened to this home of his. Everywhere there were signs of poverty and desperation. He looked back down into the muck of the fountain and was alarmed to find a single fish still alive in it. It was white, and a stark contrast to its surroundings, but it stayed there looking back up at Jaquen, as if to say life is still here, we’re just waiting for the rest of the city to live again. He turned away and pointed his horse up the street towards the castle.

A horn blow stopped them in their tracks. People everywhere began scurrying out of the way recklessly. Hoof clattering sounded up the street coming towards them, and all the people clambered about each other looking for a way to the side. It was all quite careless and in the eyes of the people there did not seem to be a great contempt for such a happening, merely something that was a part of their day. Yet, by unspoken consent, both Jaquen and Drak stayed in the middle of the road and waited.

The people bowed quickly as the horsemen appeared out of the road. The lead man pulled on his horse at the sight of Jaquen and Drak, then drew out his sword and rode forward. The rest of the horsemen surged forward and surrounded Jaquen and Drak. The lead horseman came close to them and stopped, pointing his sword at them but making no move until the noise died down. The horsemen that surrounded Jaquen and Drak did so swiftly and quite without notice of the other people standing in the street.

The man coldly stared at the two with the sword upraised, “How dare you wanderer’s come here and stand up to the train of the Keeper’s daughter. Do you not know what is royalty here?”

“Our business is our own Captain. We come here under orders from someone higher than your Keeper and as for the accusation of us being wanderer’s, we are in fact just that in upbringing, but in destiny are quite different from it.”

“Dogs! You still challenge us—“

“Stop!”

Jaquen was surprised to hear a woman’s voice come from behind the man, and the Captain turned back to allow the woman forward. He almost threw off his hood at what he saw. The woman that stepped forward was beyond compare with beauty. Jaquen faltered in what to say. Drak cleared his throat beside him. Pearl wagged his tail.

“Why do you come here with such a note of arrogance? It seems that you are of difference here in Acrea as your accent is foreign, and yet still holds the strength of an Acrean.”

Jaquen brought himself back together and spoke confidently, “We come wholly indifferent to those who wish to keep us out of this valley and to where we are to go.”

The Captain turned to the woman, “My Lady, let me whip proper respect into these dogs.”

She looked at them with an eye of question, “I think I should decide against it Drea. They are of exotic look, and I would not wish to make a problem with different powers on behalf of my father who you well know already has problems enough.”

The Captain turned and looked at the two with a snarl, “I do not like them My Lady, they should be escorted out of the city.”

The woman turned back to Jaquen and continued her questioning, “You do have a reason for coming here, and you do realize how much power I do hold here in this city. That a word from me could end your lives, and the people around me would wish me no harm for it?”

“Madame,” Jaquen spoke, “if it were completely true that these people about us would wish you no harm, why is it you go about the city with soldiers? Wouldn’t the children go before you as your swordsmen? And your riders, would they not be the noblest of the young men of the street wishing only for your smile to alight upon them?

The woman took this into consideration with a small smile.

“As for our reasons for coming here, they are secret for now,” Jaquen said maintaining his hunched look and kept his face well hidden from their sight.

Pearl sat down.

“You’ve kindness in your voice, but I find it coming out in interesting ways through your speech. Regardless though, I find your answer insulting and it is made in a most distasteful manner. Especially when you have such as these men about you right now.”

Jaquen smiled and spoke in a mocking tone, “What allegiance do I owe you?”

The Captain drew his hand back to strike, but the woman held his hand back. She then put her hand back in her lap and looked at Jaquen again, this time closer. She prodded her mount to come closer, and Jaquen felt a strange prickling move through him as his stomach began to turn with an odd energy.

“None at all,” She then turned back to the men around her and waved them on. “Let us be off, and let these two to their destination. Do not disappoint my judgment by making this stay of yours ill.”

Then the horsemen were gone. They went to the gateway and filed through, all the while Jaquen watched the woman go. He didn’t know whether to breathe or not, but instead simply watched her go.

When he came about he found Drak watching him closely with the widest smile Jaquen had ever seen on his face.

“What?” Jaquen said suppressing a smile.

“Pretty isn’t she?”

Jaquen turned back in his saddle to look at the gateway again. He noticed now all of the people looking at them with disdain and distrust. Leaving them well in their own path to the point where no one else was near them at all. Jaquen turned back and kicked his horse to prod him into moving forward, “Yes she is.” He said with an air of bitterness.

 

Boisterous laughter filled the Hall of Measures. The lords were in high spirits and the servants were in high fear. Along both sides of the council table were the knights of Acrea spread out eating their fill of each dish that was near or perhaps not so near themselves. At the head of such a table sat an old man hunched down against his high backed chair, his shoulders drooped from an unseen weight, and he constantly rubbed his head amidst sighs. There were two others of this nature, but they were at the other end of the table, and well separated from each other. Perhaps a subtle displacement, but the powers behind such a move were well knowing as to what they were doing.

The dogs at the feet of such lords cast up fond faces at their masters as great scraps fell to the floor, and as the night continued on the dogs became less interested in these. At this point the servants would venture to snatch a bite or two, as they knew perhaps the minds of their lords were a bit more clouded at this point.

Suddenly, amidst such roaring and well-wishes for their own health and well beings, a servant hurried in and ran up to the Keeper. The lords looked at the interruption from behind their beards and long hair with distaste and ordered more drink to settle the matter. The servant whispered something in the Keeper’s ear and then stepped back to wait for his reaction. The Old man rose from his seat and took his staff that leant beside his throne. With great weariness apparent in his steps he stood and leant heavily upon it. Pushing aside the help offered by the servant he advanced slowly to the other end of the table and motioned then for the doors to be opened to the hall. The two guards at either side set their flagons down and grasped at the great rings of the doorway. The Old man seemed to have years heaped upon him at the very sound of the doors giving way.

Light burst into the dark council room. Most, if not all of the lords, had at this time been watching the Keeper now very carefully as his actions seemed quite odd for the man that he was. And the action of leaving his seat alone before council had even started was enough for great surprise. Yet there were others that simply watched him out of the corner of their eyes, for odd behavior or not, a good meal was not to be spoilt.

But when two shadows fell upon the table amid the light of the hallway all activity on the table stopped and every man looked out towards the hall. There were indeed three figures, two men and a dog. But each dog surrounding the table shrank away back towards the other end of the table in submissive gesture, and each man was filled with a sense of dread. As if some tool of justice had finally come to act upon what they’d done to the valley kingdom. Without even know who the men were, a good deal of the lords wished immediately that they were gone and that no such feeling would come over them again. But instead of going away the figure on the left advanced slowly, then it drew forth a sword and held it high above his head.

Then in a loud voice the man cried aloud, “Let horns resound and banners be unfurled, let not train of royalty weep any longer! For the prince of this home has returned to his sires and his calling will be brought forth in due time as the law of Acrea is written!”

With this a shudder ran through many of the men. Others began to laugh due to much drink, but the laughs died before they were conceived to sound. The others still left in this pool of unfortunate lords looked on this man still shrouded in light and undefined in shadow and knew that again Acrea was going to be lead. Wisdom was to be taken, and change was blown in and no longer to be looked for.

The Keeper stood up as best he could and bowed slightly, “Your claim is a mighty one in these halls. Though the claim may fall dead in many eyes who did not know the King Joema, I did, and well remember his voice that now comes back to these halls through you.”

Jaquen stood at twenty paces from the Keeper and replied, “Let the jesting to those of that trade, for your jest is like to break my ears rather than gladden my heart. I much desire to see my sires and embrace them as I would as a child.”

The Keeper sighed a deep sigh and responded regretfully, “Alas, but as a child you must not think of your sires anymore, but as memories you never had and will no longer know of. For the King himself died in looking for you, his quest as we know now was completely doomed since the day it was made. The Queen died in the chamber that she looked from, seeking sight of you.”

Jaquen let his sword arm drop, the steel clanged as it hit the floor, but neither spark nor harm was in the blow, “It is evil tides that speak to me. That both my mother and father would die in the pursuit of me and yet neither would see me. That when I come in search of them I succeed to find where they have been but must also die to see them. What evil is in this world that takes all such from me?”

With that he fell silent and put his left hand to his head, bending it to meet his hand and fighting to gain composure to speak again. Then he took a deep breath and looked back up to the men, grim and determined his expression was set, and leaving his grief to take out later he spoke.

“Still I am sent on an errand. The matter of grief must be attended to when there is time for it. Now I give to you the symbol of my return, bound to my neck by a chain that bound me to my fate. When other guides went astray this one turned me here and was a constant in a world where not many can be found.”

The Keeper held out his hand and took in it the ring that Jaquen had upon his finger. Holding it up to the light he found as was expected the mountains of Acrea upon the outside of the band, and upon the inside were the runes of Kings, written in gold by the firs King of Acrea and unchanged since then. The silver shone in the light unlike any lump of silver to be mined, and the lords then knew that their dread was come true. The King of Acrea had returned.

The Keeper bowed to him, “My lord King. Long we have waited for your return, and long have I not had the right to speak as leader of the valley. We’ve long rotted under the leadership of none. Please take the role of leader from this old head and let him wander among dreams of elder days as he winds his road to sleep.”

There was a stir among the lords.

“I cannot accept it now,” Jaquen said quickly and solemnly, “The grief of not coming to my sires is too great upon me.” And indeed Jaquen seemed much less a King in figure than he had coming into the chamber. It was as if some great giant had given him a blow and he was even now staggering up with the weight of it.

The lords relaxed at this admission.

Among the lords a man stood up, “With you leave my lord!”

Jaquen turned to this man and wearily nodded in affirmation that he could speak freely to him.

“I would deem it an honor if I would leave the room in which I was set and let it pass to you for these coming nights until a suitable place for a King is set. Great has been your journey I am sure, and great is the grief that you now feel. As the kingdom has been under our control for this time, and perhaps at points under unwise guidance, it still may tarry under us for some weeks and not miss the time. Your burden must be dealt with I think before we expect you to deal with all others.”

Jaquen nodded, “Your offer is made kindly, and readily do I accept it. Since I’ve come here there has been a great disturbance in my mind. Much do I now need to think of take private council on. But rest is a great healer, and much healing I do need now. Let what you say be done, and let your name be put upon it…”

“Zatten my lord,” the man said bowing, “and as King I offer my service to you not only on this on this day, but also in the great days to come.”

Jaquen nodded and the man Zatten sat down. The murmurs of the lords died at this and seemed then to be content. Drak from behind took note of this but contented himself to stay silent. The Keeper himself looked quite pained, but stood silent, saying nothing, knowing that his power had waned and new lords were come.

Jaquen turned away from the table and shook his head, a great weight had settled on him. Dunar had raised him to be a Prince, indeed he could take on being a King as it was now needed, but he sighed at the task. It was not one that he relished, the blade in hand felt better than the scepter on the seat. But that was not to be thought of. His father and mother he would never know, and that he had looked forward to since the parting of Dunar from this world.  Yet what should he feel? At this time when two worlds seemed to look at him for an answer of some kind he felt as if the only one to give would be to shout out in agony, forgetting everything he wanted to come for.

His acceptance as King seemed to go better than he’d hoped, but something played on the edge of his mind, he couldn’t understand it fully but it was still there all the same. Something was wrong with the lords at hand, and it would be exposed in time. It was all hardness coming from them, yet duty had instructed them to make no question of the matter. Zatten’s offer of his retiring this day had seemed to calm them all, yet why would that?

Drak grabbed his arm. Jaquen came back to himself and found that he had stumbled and was leaning down on the ground with his hand up to his head. A great flowing darkness had sprung up around him and something was crushing him with great force. He stood up as best he could and saw that he was in a great whirlwind of shadow. Dust was flowing everywhere as if a great sand had swept up from the west and descended on that room. His chest began to burn, and forms began to take shape in the mist. Laughing mocking shapes.

Then a great light blazed threw the mist and ripped the veil aside, letting the real world dominate upon his vision once again. What he saw did not lessen the grief he had, but another feeling entered him and began a war upon the first. In the doorway stood the Keeper’s daughter that they had met on the street. She was dressed in white now, done with her errand. And upon her right hand stood the Captain, whip in hand and eyes blazing at this second meeting. Jaquen stood straight and set himself as a King would.

The woman looked at him curiously, her surprise was evident at how he now looked. For standing there was no longer Jaquen, messenger from the south, but rather Jaquen the King of Acrea. If one man doubted it it was because he was hoping that fantasy would come upon him and sweep him away from justice, letting him free to his own devices. But there was no doubt upon each man in the room, the King had indeed returned, and even though stricken, he was reason to fear.

“Twice now are we met,” spoke Mrace. “The second I hope will be better than the first. I fear our last encounter was not a good mark of the courtesy of Acrea.”

The Keeper cried out at her saying, “Hi! Would that I knew you’d met this man! And that I could have counseled you before you spoke! I would have told you to remain silent in respect for this is no ordinary man of Acrea, nor of another realm, this man is the rightful heir to the throne that I am keeping!”

Wonder filled Mrace’s eyes, and she blushed. Bowing suddenly and without word she cast her eyes down and let her long brown hair fall about her face, so to cover her shame. Jaquen was deeply moved by this and did not know what to do. But resolved he was suddenly to give her hope, as any despair upon her face was something he felt he could not bear. Coming slowly to her he spoke.

“Rise Mrace and do not bow to me in such a manner. I have much to grieve in this hour, but let not your unhappiness be added to it.”

She looked up at him and light returned to her face as she rose, but as to a response she did not give any, and remained silent. Drak on the other side of the room rolled his eyes and Pearl wagged his tail. Drak understood the seriousness of what they had come to, but indeed he was rather inclined to be on with other business. He understood that many words at this time was not good for Jaquen as grief had made him quite confused in what he was doing. His reactions were well off the mark, and this began to worry him.

But then Jaquen felt the sorrow come upon him again and he turned back to the Keeper, “I would have the room readied for us now, and if I may retire to the roof of this castle for a time alone I would be much appreciate it.”