Chapter 236: Silver Crane (1)

"What exactly is that?" Sir Aldous Fenwright asked.

He had stopped his horse at the top of a small rise, bringing the entire column to a halt behind him. Two hundred and ninety men in silver-grey cloaks sat in their saddles, their polished helmets shining beneath the cloudy sky. Long lances rested in their hands, each bearing a small silver crane pennant that fluttered in the wind.

Tobin Rell sat one horse-length behind the commander, holding Sir Aldous’s helmet in both hands. He followed the commander’s gaze toward the ridge.

"That is the Maren Ridge, my lord," Captain Hale explained.

Sir Aldous gave him an irritated look. "I know where we are, Captain. I am asking why anyone would bother living there. House Maren fell a year and half ago. The last report I received said the keep was abandoned as the villagers migrated to other territories. Has something changed since then?"

"Nothing we are aware of, my lord."

"Then perhaps you could explain what I am looking at."

Captain Hale had no answer.

The Maren Ridge stretched along the right side of the road, its green slopes fading into the grey clouds above. An old stone keep stood at its highest point, looking much as it must have looked a hundred years ago.

But there was smoke rising from its towers.

There was smoke rising from the villages below, too. Dozens of thin columns drifted into the sky, far more than Tobin had ever seen coming from a single settlement.

And the villages were full of people.

Men worked on rooftops, replacing broken tiles and laying fresh thatch. Others had returned to the fields, clearing weeds from abandoned rows and turning the soil. Along the slope, a long line of people passed buckets of water up from the river, each person handing the bucket to the next. Children ran between the houses while a steady hammering echoed from somewhere near the keep.

The place was not merely occupied. It was being rebuilt.

Tobin looked toward the very top of the ridge. A tall, pale stone stood above the keep, newly placed or perhaps recently uncovered. Two men were working on its surface with chisels, carefully carving something into it.

"Perhaps they are refugees," Captain Hale suggested. "People driven out of the river villages."

Sir Aldous studied the crowded slopes.

"The river villages could not produce this many people even if every man, woman, and child in them had gathered here. There must be another explanation."

Before Captain Hale could respond, an outrider came galloping down the road toward them. He pulled his horse to a stop beside Sir Aldous and saluted, his face flushed from the ride.

"My lord, I spoke with the people at the foot of the ridge. They told me where they came from, but I thought you should hear it directly."

Sir Aldous raised an eyebrow. "You have my attention. Where did they come from?"

"The Wall, my lord."

For a moment, Sir Aldous simply stared at him. Then he laughed, a brief and almost friendly sound.

"The Wall? You mean to tell me all these people came from the Wall?"

"Yes, my lord."

He paused for a minute.

"They claim that the Wall has fallen."

Sir Aldous’s smile remained, though it had begun to look forced. "And when, precisely, did this remarkable disaster occur?"

"Twenty days ago, my lord."

The laughter died.

For several seconds, Sir Aldous said nothing. Tobin watched the back of his neck, just above the silver-grey collar of his uniform. The skin there slowly turned red.

"We heard this same story at Tollbridge," Sir Aldous finally said. "And at the inn before it. Every traveller on this road seems to have a tale about the end of the world. Apparently, someone always knows a man whose cousin saw it happen with his own eyes."

Captain Hale remained silent.

Sir Aldous turned toward him. "Captain, how long has the Wall stood?"

"More than two hundred years, my lord."

"Exactly. Two hundred years of soldiers, supplies, and imperial coin. A fortress does not simply disappear because a few frightened men decide to spread rumours."

He looked back at the ridge.

The smoke continued to rise. People moved across the slopes, carrying timber, repairing houses, and working the land. At the top of the ridge, the two men continued carving the pale stone.

Whatever had happened at the Wall, these people had not come here to tell stories. They had come here to begin again.

Sir Aldous watched them for another moment before extending his hand behind him.

Without a word, Tobin placed the helmet in his palm.

? ? ?

Tobin remembered a rider he had met in a doorway at Merrowford.

The man had been covered in dust, his clothes torn and his face drawn with exhaustion. He had looked at Tobin for a long time before speaking.

"When your order finally reaches the Wall, if there is still a Wall left to reach, look at the men standing on it."

Tobin had not understood what the man meant at the time. He had barely known what to say in response.

But the words had stayed with him.

He had thought about them during every long day of the journey north. He had remembered them whenever Sir Aldous ordered another delay, whether because the horses needed rest, the road required scouting, or the weather threatened to turn unpleasant.

Now he understood.

There were no men standing on the Wall.

They were standing here instead, on a rain-soaked ridge surrounded by half-repaired houses and fields that had only recently been reclaimed. They were building something new because the old thing they had spent their lives defending was gone.

And the Order of the Silver Crane, sent north by the Crown to reinforce them, had arrived too late to stand beside them.

The column stopped again at the foot of the road leading up to the ridge.

Four sentries guarded the entrance. Their equipment looked as though it had been collected from whatever remained after a battle. One wore a Watch tabard so badly torn that its emblem was barely recognisable. Another had no armour at all, carrying only a spear and wearing a weather-beaten leather coat.

None of them saluted the approaching knights.

They looked at the silver-grey cloaks, the polished helmets, and the long line of lances. Something changed in their expressions. Tobin could not tell whether it was anger, exhaustion, or simple disbelief, but he did not like it.

The herald rode forward and raised his voice.

"The Order of the Silver Crane, acting under the authority of the Crown, requests an audience with the officer commanding this settlement."

One of the sentries glanced at the others before turning away.

"I will inform him."

He started up the hill without waiting for a response.

The knights remained on the road.

At first, Tobin assumed the delay would be brief. Whoever commanded the settlement would surely want to meet a royal order arriving with nearly three hundred armed men.

But the minutes passed, and nobody came.

The villagers continued their work around them. A few stopped to watch from their doorways, while others carried on as though the column were nothing more than another inconvenience on the road.

The knights waited.

And waited.

Eventually, Tobin began to wonder whether the people on the ridge had any intention of receiving them at all.

? ? ?