For three days and three nights, the journey continued in horse-drawn carriage. It was stopped only when drivers or horses needed to be switched. During those times, the trio ate. As the sun set on the third day, they arrived in Aqulatia, one of the largest cities in the country.
"This city has the bridge going over Domitio's Crossing, right?"
"Ah, yes. Illa Aqua Via."
Yorick tilted his head to the side.
"Isn't it a bit out of the way?"
"The journey should only be hindered by a day or two at the most. It was a necessary route, as there are matters I must attend to before your Arrival."
Henrietta removed herself from the carriage, stepping off onto the cobblestone street. Giving the driver a small nod, she turned to Yorick and Sir Van Amstel, who began to follow her.
"I must leave you for a time. We will meet at the gates of the bridge at dusk."
Sir Van Amstel huffed in response, looking off down the road.
"We can't go with you?"
"You cannot," she started, watching as the boy's face fell. "We may talk of it later, if you'd like."
At that, he smiled, though something in him was wary of the woman's willingness to speak.
"I would."
She nodded, folding her hands behind her back.
"Very well."
As she walked away, Yorick let his attention fall to Sir Van Amstel. He waited… and waited… and realized we might just stand here all day if I don't start walking. And so he started off in a random direction, feeling a sort of vindication when the knight began to follow.
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Henrietta had walked down a number of streets to make it across the city, reaching the edge of its territory. She stood, now, on a road running beside the dense grove she had planned on visiting. Apprehension tugged her stomach low. Staring into the depths of the forest, she could not tell what was more important: the knowledge that she had the right to enter any of these sacred places, or the feeling that she was no longer welcome within this one.
It reeks of sandalwood… she must be here.
The High Priestess of this city's coven had been her friend for a number of years. They studied together as young scholars, despite how the others in their degree had disliked Henrietta. She took a deep breath, stepping forward onto the grass and bowing to the trees before she made her way deeper into the woods. After a minute or two of walking, the priestess found herself on a stone path, which became more apparent as she continued on.
Soon enough, she found herself in a small patch of garden. The flowers were being tended to by a girl, who hummed the same melody repeatedly as she picked weeds. The hood of her cloak fell just as Henrietta's did, over most of her face, and her robes were much too big for her. The sleeves, which should have been the color of tangerines, were covered in stains from the mud she worked in. The girl paid no mind to Henrietta, who continued through the area of flowers, following the stone path further.
It was not long after this that the woman found a small clearing, which held a large pond. The stone wrapping around it as if to contain it.
"Sister Lacus."
The honeyed warmth within the voice told Henrietta exactly who spoke from behind her.
"Sister Flamma."
The slender woman glided across the stone steps towards Henrietta. Her robes were a deep purple, and hovered just above the ground. The flares in the sleeves were dramatic, but had been kept short enough that her hands stayed visible at all times. Standing beside her old friend, as she did now, she was reminded of her youth. What a long time ago that was, she thought.
"Has it been difficult, Sister?"
She was not asking about the journey here. It was not of importance in the grand scheme of the mission bestowed upon Henrietta. The times had been stressful. It was an honor to serve the gods as she did, but had become taxing the few years she had done so. "Yes, it has," she replied. Part of her wanted to lie, but she knew better than to do so with this priestess.
"Do rest, then. It has been so long since you last visited us."
"I cannot. We must speak."
They stood there, the silence hanging heavy between them.
It was wrong of me to co-
"Of course."
The two walked to the edge of the water, where the stone path continued to the center of the pond. There, a gazebo seemed to float. There were six supporting beams holding up its pointed roof, all of which were a light cream color. The tiles placed on its cover were dark grey, and slanted down sharply from the center point, though they had been made to curve back up towards the sky as their line ended. It was here the two women sat, stewing leaves as they conversed.
"The gods… they show me the young boy traveling with you. They say I am to be your aide, to give you that which you seek."
Henrietta rested her hands in her lap, watching as the woman across from her wiped out a set of teacups with her handkerchief.
"Is that all they have shared?"
They never share much, she remembered, unless it is me they call upon.
"Yes. I was hoping you might say more."
Her brow furrowed, and a small grimace began to infect her lips. Quickly, she forced herself to become as stoic as she had been before.
"It is better that I do not."
They know best, she reassured herself.
"You always remained so devoted, even when we were close. I envy you for that."
The woman reminisced as she placed the teacups, reaching over the table to do so. Ever since graduation, their time together had been like this. She wished for the days their relationship had truly felt like that of sisters. The days their talks over tea had been about their classes and other scholars, instead of fates and the wishes of the divine.
"Careful, Sister. You will be thrown to Illud Putrem if you do not watch your tongue."
But this, she realized, was why it had ended so quickly after being given freedom. Sister Lacus had always been one for rules, for tradition. Their arguments over proper practice seemed to be stronger than the love and loyalty they had towards each other.
High Priestess Flamma bowed her head. "Do forgive me. I have not been myself lately."
"I tell you simply as your friend."
I wish you never to think me your superior, Henrietta wanted to say. I wish my rigid ways had never torn us apart.
She placed a hand on Sister Flamma's forearm, giving a warm smile. After returning the expression, the priestess leaned forward, starting a small fire in the clay pot built into the center of the table.
"So… what is it that you seek, old friend?"
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Yorick wandered through the city with Sir Van Amstel. Uninterested in the throng of strangers overtaking the main roads, he began down a much quieter way, filled with, mostly empty, stalls. A few merchants remained resilient, however, hoping tourists might lose themselves in this unfamiliar place. Halfway down the walk, they stopped at one of the bigger stalls. A man sat, snoring, in a wooden chair, his ankles resting on the table in front of them, crossed. Swords and daggers lay out, a few missing. Behind the merchant, shields were hung up, and bits of smashed barrels lay strewn about.
"It's tradition, isn't it?"
He didn't turn to his mentor, and so he did not see the nod given in response. There was no need for him to, though. He knew that it was customary to start wielding a proper blade after your Arrival.
The boy cleared his throat, in hopes that the retailer might wake up. The snoring continued on. He did so again, a tad louder, yet to no avail. When Sir Van Amstel coughed, however, the man woke immediately, jumping to his feet and unsheathing a dagger within his vest. He stared down the blade's edge, which had been pointed at Yorick's throat. Before the boy could back away, the weapon fell to the ground, clashing against the stone roads. The knight had disarmed him, and now held a tight grip on the poor merchant's wrist.
"Please," he begged, "I mean ya no harm! Truly!"
For a moment, there was only the faint sound of people rushing through the main streets. Then Sit Van Amstel freed the vendor, stepping away in an attempt to show he was no longer a threat. Smoothing the lower half of his vest and dusting off his left shoulder, the man's demeanor seemed to change in an instant, his wide eyed fear replaced by a cocky smirk. The man began to rub his hands together as he spoke. "What might I interest you in, folks?"
"A sword," Yorick's mentor stated, unsheathing the weapon on his back, "Something like this."
Clearing the table with his forearm, letting dagger and sword alike clatter onto the ground, Sir Van Amstel placed his greatsword in front of the man across from him. Its blade was the darkest grey you'd see on a weapon, with a fuller higher than its edge, but of the same width. The rain guard was gold, and resembled the same leaf pattern Yorick had seen on Henrietta's belt. In the center of them, they wrapped around a green gem, which held a swirling black within. This was mimicked in the pommel. The hilt between the gold was wrapped with brown leather, and where it met with gold at its bottom, a thick braiding of blue thread had been wrapped around it.
Both the merchant and Yorick stared down at the weapon. His mentor had used it many times as he stood back and watched, but he had never gotten the chance to gaze upon it so closely. He thought he could see some sort of script carved into the blade, but he couldn't be sure.
"Well, if yer lookin' for somethin' like that, you'd certainly never find it here with me."
Sir Van Amstel wasn't at all surprised. He didn't expect fine quality from a man selling on the backstreets of a city like this. Yet, he waited for something more. They both stared at each other, as if advancing would admit some sort of defeat.
"Listen," the merchant sighed, rubbing his temples, "I might know someone. Stress on the might. He hasn't been in business for… quite a while. Always had a soft spot for them Retrievers, though, so if you show 'em these gems, he'll prolly lick yer boots before smithin' ya his finest piece yet."
A smile spread across the knight's face as he folded his arms. It wasn't one soft or warm, but one of grit, as if he had battled for this. "Take us to him."