Chapter 106

The morning nap had not left me feeling rested and the next few days saw no improvement. Mum had noticed, but besides my constant tossing and turning, there didn’t seem to be anything except the change in surroundings and the rumbling of the carriage that might have been causing it.

Aunt Agnes promised to send Meredith to one of the alchemy shops in Drevorn to get me some tonics to help — though she seemed to think my poor sleep was being caused by nerves. Despite my tiredness, I still took every opportunity to practise what I could. Every time we stopped to rest the horses, Nazim and I would spar. Besides the simple joy of moving, I got the pleasure of seeing steps accumulating my Paths of Shieldwork and Daggers. A few days away from Drevorn, I had finally gotten a new notification.

You have advanced the Tier of your Path! Path of Daggers VII (1000/1000)

Reward: +1 Coordination

The advancement was small, but the reminder that I was still improving, and that my numbers continued to go up, was a balm on my tired and angry soul. Since I could still work on my Path of Axes with my shield, I temporarily dropped the Path of Daggers and took a Path I had been putting off for a long time — the Path of Reading - Helenian. Aunt Agnes saw the opportunity and promised to purchase a book or two on the history of Meravia for me. While I wasn’t about to turn her down, I was perfectly happy focusing my attention on my Adventurer’s Compendium. Flipping through its pages, I blew through the first three tiers within a day, my years of practice with my mother combining with Gifted to catapult the Path forward.

You have advanced the Tier of your Path! Path of Reading - Helenian I (67/10)

…

You have advanced the Tier of your Path! Path of Reading - Helenian III (67/50)

Reward: +3 Mental

At the rate I was going, I expected the Path would only take a few months to complete. If I could manage the same with the Path of Writing - Helenian, then I would very soon hit two-hundred in my Gifted attribute. I had a suspicion that might be Achievement worthy and intended to milk it for all it was worth.

The improvements I was making on the Path, coupled with the interesting nature of the compendium's contents, had me almost miss our arrival at Drevorn. Both Mum and Aunt Agnes turned down my request to climb up top with Thomas and Nazim as we rolled in through the gates of the ducal city.

On our trip west, I had plenty of chances to see how the landscape and people changed the closer we got to our first destination. On the road of the Western Horndale Pass, there had been nary a person in sight with the mountains being truly wild — a frontier, just as my Aunt had claimed. The lack of people was one of the main reasons we had rushed through that area in case we found ourselves encountering beasts or monsters best left alone. Even the Wardens apparently rarely patrolled those areas.

Once we had gotten into the lower sections of the Western Horndales, there had been some small camps that looked closer to miniature forts. The men and women of those logging camps had watched us roll by with some interest, likely more accustomed to seeing trading caravans than our luxurious carriage.

While I had not gotten to see how the loggers worked — mostly due to us still moving quite fast and trees getting in the way — the same was not true once we reached the lowlands. Farms had dotted the landscape, at first spread a fair distance apart. The first village we passed through was already twice the size of Hornpeak and had been surrounded by a wooden palisade. I had wondered about that until I saw two Wardens ride by the caravan the next day. The lowlands, it seemed, were marginally safer than the mountains, but they still had the risk of Rifts appearing.

There had been forests to the north as well, which were home to plenty of wild beasts that occasionally roamed south hunting, but for the most part, life here seemed tamer. Tame didn’t mean less dangerous, though. Two days out from Drevorn, we had passed by a series of corpses hung by the side of the road, crows picking at their eyes and faces. A sign above read ‘bandits’, the bodies left as a warning to the next group that thought to break the law.

As we approached the city, the number of farms had steadily increased. Nearer the mountains, the number of cattle had been limited — Aunt Agnes explaining it was harder to protect the larger herds from predators, and what few domesticated animals we had seen were likely used by the communities themselves. Being closer to Drevorn meant less beasts and more livestock, with cows, sheep, pigs, and many more species dotting the landscape alongside the yellow of wheat and green of vegetables. The climate was still cool, and while I had spied some orchards they were few and far between. Aunt Agnes, never missing an opportunity to expand my education of Meravia, had explained that the Duchy of Landrin imported fruit from the Duchy of Calliade in the southwest of Meravia.

The towns that fed Drevorn had also improved in quality the closer we got to the city. They were still walled, but wood had given way to stone. The people were different as well. On the outskirts of the Duchy, the commoners had dressed in similar colours to those of Hornpeak. As we got closer to the capital of the Duchy, the daily clothes had grown more colourful. Still, Aunt Agnes didn’t seem interested in stopping more than long enough to rest and feed the horses, while Meredith bought a few supplies. I had expected us to spend a night in an inn, since my Aunt clearly favoured a more comfortable lifestyle, but I shouldn’t have been surprised that her pragmatism won out.

These experiences led me to expect Drevorn to be more of the same, only bigger. Riding in through its gates proved to me how wrong I was. The stone outer walls towered above us as I looked out the shuttered window, the carriage slowly rolling through a gate guarded by soldiers in shining plate armour. As we rolled down the cobbled street, the buildings around us seemed to be mostly warehouses with signs hanging across them declaring things like ‘Belle’s Northern Trading’ or ‘Horndale Logging Co’.

“The Eastern Merchant Gate,” Aunt Agnes said. “There is another on the southern edge of the city that deals with merchants coming up from Helenica and Thessavar. Most of the warehouses around this section will be for those who deal with the eastern farms, the Horndales, and trade with Varingia in the north and Ajinar to the east. While the companies based out of the southern section of the city will be bringing in luxuries from the south, it’s this gate that makes the Duchy of Landrin the second richest Duchy of Meravia.”

I knew from my lessons with Mum that Varingia was a city-state much further to the north, set in colder climes than even the Horndales, where snow could pile higher than a man. The city-state also sat on its own Dungeon.

“Because of trade with Varingia?” I asked.

Agnes smiled at my question, inclining her head. “Precisely. Occasionally, there have been suggestions to annex the city-state and make it a fifth Duchy of Meravia. These suggestions have come from the Duchies of Mellides and Kallea, rather than the Duchy of Landrin. What do you think about that?”

I considered the question while my eyes drifted over the warehouses as we clattered down the road. People strode down sidewalks with proper gutters that told of a functioning sewer system. My mind served up pieces of knowledge from my past life, enough to tell me that such things were necessary to curtail smell and disease but not how they worked. Plenty of the people I saw looked like workers, but some among them were dressed in higher quality clothes. Merchants or lesser nobles, I decided, come to make deals or settle contracts with the various companies.

“Is it because they want to reduce the Duchy of Landrin's access to Varingia?” I asked.

“It is. If Varingia became a Duchy of Meravia, it would need to follow Meravian law, which would give the Duchy of Mellides leverage to demand trade deals that favoured it. Since Mellides also has some limited trade with the elven nation of Ellenar to the West, they would likely become the richest of the Meravian Duchies within a decade, beating out both Calliade and Landrin. As such, Calliade and Landrin have blocked such attempts at every turn.”

“Doesn’t the King of Meravia want an extra Duchy under his rule?” I asked.

Outside, the warehouses were giving way to tenement housing, made of stone with wooden shutters for windows. The occasional store interspersed among them made it clear we were moving into the area set aside for homes of the workers. The three and four storey edifices told me that as the population had grown, the city had elected to build up rather than out.

“I don’t presume to know the thoughts of his majesty, Bastian,” Agnes replied diplomatically while Mum listened on. Blake and Meredith were paying more attention to what was going on outside of the carriage than to my impromptu lesson. “I would venture a guess that he sees himself better served by keeping the Duchies divided, especially since both Calliade and Landrin are staunch supporters of the Royal Family.”

I nodded, only partially understanding. The politics of Meravia were clearly a complex web, that up until now, had not really affected my life in any way. Going forward, that was liable to change. So, while I internalised the lessons provided, I knew that we were barely scraping the tip of the iceberg. Once we reached Helenica, I would likely be steeped in such information. A glance at my Status made me wonder if there were some Paths related to the topic so that I might gain something out of the drudgery. I suspected there were. I also suspected that at least some of them were locked behind my Paths of Reading and Writing in Helenian. Good thing I was already working to solve that problem.

As we moved deeper into the city, the buildings began to improve in quality. Shops started having glass windows, though they were still built at least two or three storeys tall and proclaimed everything from sundries to textiles and clothes. Something that had surprised me were the number of inns — I had, of course, expected some, but for a while, it had seemed like they were every second building once we got beyond the warehouses and tenements.

Unwilling to be ignorant on the matter, I asked my Aunt.

“They’re catering to the larger number of Adventurers. Varingia doesn’t have the population to properly delve into The Festering Mire. The Dungeon itself is an alchemist's dream, and Varingian Alchemists are some of the best on the continent. However the nature of the dungeon floors conflict with the cold climes of Varingia. Add in the higher than usual death rate of delving The Festering Mire, their limited populace and they cannot even manage preventing Dungeon expansion on their own; so they are forced to bring in outside help.”

“If adventurers die more often in that Dungeon, why do they go?”

“Because Varingia offers far better terms for the Festering Mire than, say, the Endless Plains or the Echoing Depths. More than a few new Guilds have made themselves wealthy and powerful by delving the Festering Mire. Many fail or die, but there are always more people willing to risk their lives for the chance at something better. That is the nature of the world, is it not? Everything’s a calculation of risk versus reward.”

I nodded in silent agreement before my mind began wondering about Varingia’s Dungeon. My thoughts were so distracting that I didn’t even notice how the city was changing outside until the carriage started to slow down. The road we travelled down had improved again, the buildings around us now leaving space between them for greenery to take root in the form of delicate gardens interspersed with occasional fountains. Finely dressed individuals sat around cafes or exited shops with servants in tow. The carriage pulled to the left, turning into an alcove with trees, a beautiful four-storey building to our right, before coming to a halt in a backyard with large stables and a shed set aside for the carriage.

I heard Thomas and Nazim dismount before the stairs were folded down and the door opened. Thomas peeked his head in.

“We’ve arrived, Ma’am.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mother take a deep breath, while Aunt Agnes stood, smoothing her dress as Blake exited the carriage.

Agnes motioned for me to go first. “Welcome to Drevorn, Bastian.”