II
The Emaleid Citadel held much strategic significance, which its design reflected. The citadel was divided into three districts: the residential district, where the majority of its citizens had their homes; the warehouse district, which provided interim storage for grain harvested in the north and other crops; and the military district, where the army garrison was stationed.
Ashton and Olivia left one of the barracks, crossing from the military district to the main street of the residential district. This was where most shopkeepers set up stalls to sell their wares.
“There’re so many stalls, but hardly any humans to visit them,” Olivia said to Ashton, peering into the different stalls with great interest. Before the war, Ashton had heard, people had flocked to this street in throngs. These days, however, there were barely half as many, and Ashton thought he saw something dark in the faces of the people they passed.
“With the world as it is, what can you—hey!” Olivia, who had been walking by his side a moment ago, had vanished. He looked around frantically, then spotted her in front of a nearby stall, standing rooted to the spot like a statue. He let out a breath of relief, then caught a whiff of something savory. “Don’t just disappear like that! You scared me.”
He came up behind Olivia, but she paid him no attention. Her eyes were fixed on the skewers of meat arrayed before them. It was freshly grilled chicken coated in a golden, sweet-smelling sauce. It looked so appetizing that Ashton would have already been loosening the strings on his purse if they hadn’t just come from breakfast.
“This here is Emaleid’s specialty,” said the shopkeeper, a stout woman in her forties. She flashed them a saleswoman’s winning smile. “Go on, one for the road?”
“Ashton, I want it,” Olivia said.
“What? It hasn’t been an hour since breakfast and you’re hungry already?”
“Yep. I’m having a growth spurt!” said Olivia.
“I...” Ashton sighed. “Oh, all right.” He turned to the shopkeeper and asked, “How much, then?” When Olivia looked at him with those hopeful eyes, it was beyond his powers to resist.
“One silver each,” said the woman nonchalantly as Ashton reluctantly pulled out his purse.
“Silver—?!” he yelped. “Isn’t...Isn’t that a bit pricey? My family are merchants, I’ll have you know. I know what things cost.” It wasn’t unusual for street sellers to change their prices depending on who was buying. Ashton’s experience told him this should be ten coppers at most, but he also knew that the woman had been glancing at their epaulets since they arrived. In a city with a military district, the people would’ve been used to seeing soldiers about. It made sense that they’d be able to distinguish rank as well.
“Look, Warrant Officer, don’t think I looked at your rank and decided to try and cheat you. Do you really think that kind of thing flies with military types?” the woman said.
“Um?!” Ashton gaped, taken aback to have been caught so easily. The woman rolled her eyes and sighed.
“If you’re a merchant’s son, you should understand,” she said. “Have you seen the prices on food lately?”
Ashton, of course, didn’t need to be told how expensive food supplies had become, but one silver was still absurdly high compared to prices back in the capital. If she wasn’t cheating him, there was only one other explanation. The impact of the empire’s conquests was already being felt throughout the whole of the north. Ashton took two silver coins from his purse, and held them out to the woman.
“I’m sorry if I sounded suspicious. I’ll take two of those skewers,” he said. The woman laughed.
“Oh dear, I’ve gone and made you feel sorry for me,” she said, but she packed up two skewers with practiced hands and passed them over. Olivia took them with a delighted smile, then immediately began to devour one. The woman watched her, nothing but kindness in her eyes. It reminded Ashton of a mother looking at her own child.
“What do you think, Major?” asked the woman.
“It’s amazing!” Olivia said happily, and the woman’s face broke into a genuine smile.
“I’m glad to hear it.” she said. “When I heard the empire had come to attack Emaleid, I thought it was all over. You’re the ones who chased them off, right? I haven’t seen your faces around before.”
“Ah, yes,” Ashton said. “I suppose we are.”
“I knew it. You’re pretty young yourself, Warrant Officer, but the major here is just a child...” she murmured, her eyes growing distant. “Is the kingdom really close to falling, then?”
Ashton didn’t know if she realized it, but such a statement in fact violated the Decree for Public Order and Control. If the military police overheard her, they’d throw her in irons. He decided to pretend it hadn’t happened. He could see how the sight of Olivia, a girl too young to be anywhere near a battlefield under ordinary circumstances, made the situation appear even more dire.
Olivia, having gobbled down the remainder of her skewer, stared curiously into the woman’s eyes.
“Would it make you sad if the kingdom fell?” she asked. “Would you cry?”
“Well, yes, I think so...” said the woman. “It certainly isn’t perfect, but it’s where I was born and raised. I think I’d shed a tear or two for it.”
“Huh...” said Olivia. She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Not to worry! We’re going to drive the imperial army out of the north, so there’ll be nothing to cry about.” She rolled her sleeves up and flexed her muscles. The woman burst out in loud and hearty laughter that made her belly shake.
“Dear me, is that so!” she said. “You’re going to send the imperial army on their way for us? Well, my dear, I’m very much looking forward to that day.” She wrapped up the rest of the skewers she was grilling and, to Olivia’s great surprise, pressed them into her hands.
“What? Are you sure?” Olivia said, blinking.
“Yes, yes, they’re all yours,” the woman said. “In exchange, will you promise me something, dear?”
“A promise? That’s fine. Like I said, I’m going to send the imperial army packing.”
“No, not that,” the woman said. Without another word, she enveloped Olivia in a hug.
“Um...?” Olivia mumbled.
“Now you listen to me, Major,” the woman said. “You promise me you won’t die. You’ve still got your whole life ahead of you.” That was all—she just wanted Olivia to be safe. Olivia seemed too dazed to move, but little by little, a shy smile spread over her face.
“Got it!” she said. “I promise. After all, after you die, there’s no more tasty food or sweets. Or meat skewers,” she added. She stepped back from the woman, then took a large bite from the second skewer.
Ashton and Olivia bid the woman farewell, then set off again on their original course.
“Hey, you still haven’t told me where we’re going,” said Olivia, devouring skewer after skewer as they walked.
“Just shush and follow me,” Ashton replied, ushering her along without offering any clue to their destination. They left the main street and wove through a series of narrow alleys until at last, they arrived.
“We’re here, Olivia,” Ashton announced. In front of them was a roughly constructed brick building surrounded by a tangled thicket of trees. A thin wisp of smoke trailed from the chimney. Anyone who failed to notice the unobtrusive little sign would never guess that this was a shop.
Ashton himself had passed right by it many times when he first came here.
“Is this...” Olivia hesitated, puzzled. “Is this a blacksmith?” With a sideways look at her, Ashton pushed open the door to the shop. A bright clanging sound rang out, and they saw the blacksmith himself in the back of the workshop, beating away with his hammer in unbroken concentration. He was every inch the image of a craftsman, with the exception of a rather sweet pink apron.
“I’m closed for orders, so—!” he began, then his eyes landed on Ashton. “Oh, it’s you...” he said. He put his hammer back in its box, then stretched and stood up.
“I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy,” Ashton said. “I was just wondering if my order was ready yet.”
“Aye, it’s ready. Finished it up yesterday, and it came out mighty fine, if I do say so myself. Wait here a spell,” he said, before heading out to the back of the workshop. He returned moments later cradling a large wooden box in his arms. Placing it down on the workbench, he said, “Open it up, then.” Ashton lifted the lid, and there lay a set of armor covered in fine silver filigree. Engraved on the left shoulder and breastplate was a glittering skull surrounded by roses set against two crossed scythes—the crest of the House of Valedstorm. The blacksmith had gone above and beyond what Ashton had asked for. He nodded, delighted.
“It’s absolutely perfect,” he said. “I see how you got your reputation as one of the three best blacksmiths in Fernest.”
“Flatter me all you like, but don’t think you’re getting out of paying off the rest,” said the blacksmith, folding his tree-trunk-like arms with a loud huff.
“Of course,” Ashton replied. “You get what you pay for, after all.” That was one of his father’s favorite expressions. It was his father’s keen eye that had brought prosperity to the Senefelder business.
“Hmph. You’re young, but you’ve got your head screwed on right,” said the blacksmith with a grin. Olivia peered over Ashton’s shoulder at the armor, and let out a gasp of wonder.
“Ashton, you didn’t!”
“The real battle’s about to begin, right?” Ashton said. “No matter how strong you are, there’s still a chance you could get hurt. So I thought, at the very least, you should have a good set of armor.”
“Aye, this plate is tough as anything—I guarantee it,” the blacksmith said. “All steel, beat paper-thin and built up, layer upon layer. It’ll take a good beating for you.” He paused, looking at Olivia with something like awe. “You know, I didn’t know whether to believe you last time, but now I see her it all makes sense. There’s something special about this girl, though I couldn’t rightly say what it is. All I know is if I saw her on the battlefield, I’d be running hard in the opposite direction.” From what Ashton had heard, the blacksmith had once been a mercenary of considerable skill in his youth, traveling from country to country to fight in their wars. That experience must have allowed him to see what he did in Olivia.
“I’m just happy to hear you believe me,” Ashton said, then turned to Olivia. “What do you think, then? I asked for it to be ebony black to match your sword. Do you like it?”
Olivia was silent for a moment. “Can I touch it?” she asked at length.
“What do you think? It’s yours, of course you can,” he said. When Olivia hesitated, he took her by the shoulders and pushed her forward to stand in front of the armor. She gazed down at the armor with an intensity he rarely saw in her, then reached down to brush her fingers over it.
Well, I also thought blood wouldn’t stand out as much on black, Ashton thought. She scares the new recruits half to death when she shows up drenched in blood. He’d been terrified himself at first, so he knew all too well just how they felt.
“Thank you, Ashton!” Olivia said. “I love it! It’s the coolest thing ever!”
“I’m glad you think so,” he said. The smile Olivia gave him made him feel like his soul had come unmoored from his body. Feeling his face grow hot, he concealed it with a cough, then saw the blacksmith smirking at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing. Just remembering my youth,” the blacksmith replied, rubbing his perfectly bald head and smiling even more broadly. Ashton, feeling a little uncomfortable, hastened to pull out the remaining coins he owed. No sooner had he handed them over than Olivia seized his hand and started dragging him towards the door.
“Come on, we’ve got to get back to the barracks to show Claudia!” she said.
“Okay, okay! I’m coming, so stop yanking,” Ashton retorted.
“You do your best, kids,” said the blacksmith as they left. His grin was as broad as ever.
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