As he travelled away from Selby Chase towards home, Vargus felt tension easing from his body. Part of him didn’t even realise how tense he’d been until he felt the knots in his shoulders and neck.
On the first night heading north, he stopped off at a village and soaked in a hot bath until the water turned cool. The water and quiet in the bathhouse worked some of the stiffness from his body. After a tasty meal, he slept peacefully without dreams and woke the next morning feeling refreshed.
For a little while, he was without responsibility. There was no mission for him as the Gath. No urgent missive to relocate Lanny and there had not been word from his extended family in some time. He suspected it was merely the calm before a storm, but he decided to enjoy the peace while it lasted.
Meandering on his way north, he stopped off at several villages which were some distance from the main roads. Each night in the taverns, he listened to see how far stories about the Gath had spread. By now most settlements had heard about him, and Vargus listened closely for any unexplained events that might warrant his attention. He discreetly met with a few Elders as well, making himself known to them, and explaining how best to contact him if there was ever a need. Despite those sometimes awkward and tense conversations, it was a pleasant journey.
Each day he spent in solitude, rarely speaking and merely listening to the land around him. Each night he blended in with the locals and soaked up the atmosphere of the communities.
After eight gentle days of late mornings and comfy beds, he arrived home feeling refreshed. He’d only been living in the village for about ten years, but despite not being born there everyone considered him a local. Vargus tied up his horse outside the Duck and Crown and immediately went inside in search of a cold drink.
As ever, Rigg was standing behind the bar. A former soldier, he had thick beefy arms but also a slightly rounded belly that sat on the edge of the bar. The quiet life, and his wife’s cooking, suited him more than marching in the King’s army. The touch of grey in his bushy moustache and lines at his eyes showed he’d lived through some tough times. For some reason, the normally jolly man had a sad look in his eyes.
It was the middle of the afternoon and the only patrons were two old-timers talking in a corner and the owner’s two children. They were racing after each other, squealing and whooping as they ducked under tables and leaped over chairs. Vargus admired how nimble they were but as he came through the door he and Rigg shared a brief knowing smile. It was only a matter of time before one of them slipped and fell. Rigg had told them not to play this game but the children thought they knew better. It seemed as if the only way for them to learn was by doing it the hard way.
“Been a while,” said Rigg, pulling a foamy pint and setting it down on the bar. Vargus smelled the citrus and spices before he even put it to his lips. It was deliciously cold and refreshing. He drained half the glass before sitting down at one of the high stools.
“You heard much of the news coming in?” asked Rigg.
“Only local news. Why, has something happened?”
Rigg avoided the question, his eyes sad and distant as he watched his children.
“Is Carla about?” asked Vargus. Rigg ran the tavern but it was his cousin, Carla, who ran the village.
“Working in the orchard.”
Vargus raised an eyebrow but said nothing. When he’d left the village a few months ago in pursuit of the mercenaries, Carla had been pregnant. By his guess, she would be due to give birth any day now and yet was still hard at work.
Despite being so young, she’d been the obvious choice to become the next Elder after Pelmore had died. She was a solid woman who didn’t tolerate nonsense from anyone and calling her handsome was being generous. With two little ones running around and another on the way, Vargus would have expected that and being Elder to slow most people down. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Carla was still at work.
As expected, one of the children slipped and fell. There was a brief moment of silence before the girl started to wail, her face red and tears streaming. Rigg was immediately at her side, soothing the hurt. A moment later, his wife emerged from the back, took in what had happened and also comforted the girl. Vargus noted how Rigg squeezed his wife’s shoulder as well as looking after his daughter.
After leaving his horse with Tibbs at the stables, he took a walk down to the orchards. He found Carla and a dozen others sorting the apples they must have just picked earlier in the day. The largest were being separated from the rest and would be used to make cider. The smallest and sweetest were being wrapped in old paper and sealed into barrels to be stored over the winter. A third pot held those bruised and damaged which would be cut up and baked into pies for the upcoming market in a few days.
Carla saw him coming and waddled over. She checked where her two children were and satisfied they were safe, gestured for him to follow her. They walked a short distance away from the others so their conversation remained private. Carla liked to keep Elder business to herself and only told people what was important.
As he matched her slow pace, he noticed a black scrap of cloth tied around her left wrist. Three other women who had been sorting the apples, mothers all, also wore similar on their arms.
“I heard you’d dealt with the mercenaries down in Elmsbrooke. I expected you back weeks ago.” Despite her expression, Vargus knew it was a statement not an accusation.
“Something else came up. No doubt you’ll hear about it soon enough.”
“No doubt,” said Carla, scraping mud out from under her fingernails.
“When she’s due?” he asked, gesturing at her round belly.
“Any day. I think it’s a boy this time.”
“Something on your mind?” he asked, sensing her unease.
Carla took a deep breath and for a moment her face was stricken with grief. She took another breath and her expression returned to normal. “I thought you should hear this from me, rather than someone else.”
Cold fingers danced their way up Vargus’s spine and he felt a chill despite the warm sun. “What’s happened?”
“The Queen is dead. Healers and apothecaries tried their best, but it wasn’t enough. She died a few days ago.”
King Matthias of Seveldrom was well liked by his people for being fair and generous, but it was his wife the people really loved. She could often be found walking through the poorest parts of the capital city with only a pair of royal guards for protection. Vargus had heard the story about her taking off her shoes so a beggar didn’t have to go barefoot. There were a hundred other stories like it which had endeared her to the people. She wasn’t just their Queen. She was family.
“How old is Princess Talandra? Eight? Nine?” asked Vargus.
“I think so,” said Carla. “It’s going to be toughest on her, being the youngest.”
Only a few days ago, Vargus had been enjoying a moment of peace and now this had happened. This event was a crossroads. Even though his old power was fading and would soon pass to another, he could almost feel the threads weaving together.
New pathways were being formed. New roads were opening up and others being torn apart for good with the queen’s death. There was no way to know which way King Matthias would turn in his grief. Would he continue down the road he and his wife had started together? Or would he be consumed and change the fate of the whole nation?
“Change is coming,” said Carla, echoing his thoughts. She knew a little about what he really was and hadn’t pressed him for more. But she had insight of her own that came from grounded wisdom. It was another reason she was the Elder.
“Then we’d best be ready for it,” said Vargus.