Chapter 92: 91. Tracks Past the Horn

Breale sighed as she put another spoonful into her mouth. Beside her, the rest of the caravan and the colgs lounged around their campfires as the sun began to rise above the mountains. It was a warm morning for winter, and the fire and her coat was just enough to feel comfortable outside.

 

They had just reached the beginning of the Horn of Norni after some days of travel from Minua before the caravan had voted to give the colgs a slightly longer rest than they’d been getting. They certainly wouldn’t be taking that chance before they got properly into Fangpeak, and Minuan rangers still controlled the valley entrance last they’d heard. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any control beyond that, and Breale knew that they would soon be forced to leave the main road and River Norni altogether so as to avoid any potential loyalist checkpoints. Then it would backroad mountain roads until they could descend into the Forest of Claws, and they were famously treacherous to the uncareful. Especially in winter.

 

And yet all I can think about it soup. Breale thought. Even Brother’s cooking gets tiresome at some point.

 

It was common in small plateau caravans for each wagon to cook its own food, even if they shared the resources for it. After all, it was normally the case that only nobles, merchants, and village heads would be travelling the roads with their personal retinues and cooks. Even in the army this was custom, for trained men-at-arms and knights were expected to be self-sufficient in all things related to survival and cooking was no exception. The only time Breale had heard of overwise was for the truly huge hosts of Kings and Dukes, when thousands of levies were raised up that couldn’t be expected to cook their own.

 

As she chewed, she watched the clouds coalesce around the peaks. They’d gone a small distance off the main road and found a cosy little clearing mostly open to the river for their camping spot, and it had an excellent view of the scenery around. The River Norni was narrower here and iced over to boot, but the road had been forced to diverge from it for a time as it sank into a valley down below. The forest didn’t quite reach the banks on either side, so it was easy to look west and see many farleaps away until the river bent to the south. Breale noted how the white pines mixed with the rarer greens, making patchy streaks like ragged lightning stand out on the slopes and hills.

 

“Why not make literally anything else for once?” She asked. “What kind of story has its knights drinking broth all the time?”

 

Fredrick lay with his hands behind his head as he watched a nest of huddling songbirds in a tree above them. There were six of them, each wide and thick with fluffy feathers to keep out the chill.

 

“The realistic ones. Soups are filling and cheap, and they stretch rations twofold.”

 

“Except we’re not exactly starved for food stocks.” Breale patted the wagon’s step beside her, where Saphry laid up above. “We’re provisioned for a week more than we need, and that’s assuming we don’t stop by any villages along the way.”

 

Andril and Duke Belvan had been extremely generous for their planning of the trip, and had made sure to give them as many redundancies as was possible to stuff on the wagons. They’d even packed extra clothes and spices, things Breale wasn’t used to having on the road.

 

“And if we make it all into soup, that’s six weeks.” Fredrick said simply.

 

Breale stared at him for a long second before sighing.

 

“I wonder if one of the soldiers will switch wagons with me?”

 

“I’d certainly kill something for some good cloudfish.” Saphry said cheerfully. “Maybe another orthung?”

 

Breale glanced over at the princess, finding that she was messing around with those small icy birds she’d become obsessed with the last few weeks. Four of them hopped cheerfully on the ground in front of her, chirping and pecking at the ground like curious starlings. 

 

She still didn’t know what to think of the things. Half of her wanted to decry them as the demons they obviously were and caution Saps from making more, but they hadn’t actually done anything hostile yet. All they seemed to want to do was fly around and chirp, and that certainly didn’t match up with the demon she’d seen in Minua. Nor were they necessarily dumb and instinct driven as the Rizif Karif implied. But they weren’t animals, nor did they have any biological functions, so they were clearly something along the vein of a demon, it was just that they didn’t cleanly fit into any of the boxes Breale knew about.

 

And so, in a way, they were just like their summoner.

 

Saphry was quite the strange one, as far as Breale was aware, and that fact still confused her. After all, Breale was a noble of Summark and had visited Andorlin once or twice, so why hadn’t she heard of the princess’s eccentricity before they’d met? How was it possible that the vibrant engines of rumour hadn’t described the princess who couldn’t match two colours to safe her life, or hadn’t been able to tie a braid? And yet, these things couldn’t even be attributed to the sad helplessness of an over-sheltered childhood, for Saphry acted anything but! Though it had been tempered over the last few months, the princess acted almost more like a crude town-boy than royalty, and that definitely would’ve wagged tongues way before they’d met.

 

“Cloudfish’s hardly a breakfast food.” Breale said. “Maybe a nice skinned eel would work.”

 

Breale’s mouth watered as memories of Cice came to mind and the eels they’d brought up from the docks each week. 

 

Saphry, however, looked up with concern.

 

“Skinned?” 

 

“I mean, yeah.” Breale said.

 

“Like… properly skinned?” She sat up, her eyes unexpectedly serious. “Why?”

 

Breale raised an eyebrow, suddenly worrying about Saphry’s childhood. Wasn’t she from Summark? Had she never skinned an eel before? From the corner of her eyes, she saw Auro and Fredrick also take interest.

 

“How else would you eat it?” Fredrick asked tentatively.

 

After noticing everyone staring, Saphry looked away.

 

“Well, eh, the… other way?”

 

…What the hell does that mean? Breale thought. She didn’t eat the fur, did she? Though that might explain some things.

 

“Do you leave it on too sometimes?” Auro asked. “I’ve tried it that way a few times, but I can’t really swallow too much of the fur…”

 

Immediately, everyone switched to starting at Auro instead, and when she looked between them in a panic.

 

“What?”

 

“You ate the fur?” Breale asked incredulously. 

 

“Did you do that of your own will?” Fredrick asked.

 

“I w-was just curious!” Auro said. “It’s not that strange, right?”

 

“I have never once thought or heard about someone trying to eat the fur.” Breale said. “That’s not even something parents warn their children not to do, it’s just common sense.”

 

“But it’s a part of the animal!” Auro tried. “You’ve heard of people eating bones, right?”

 

“I’ve heard of barbaric peoples eating bone marrow.” Fredrick said. “Not bones.”

 

“And fur is substantially more gross.” Breale added. “And… inedible?”

 

Auro looked between the twins, trapped. She turned with pleading eyes towards Saphry, and Breale could plainly read the cry for help written there.

 

“Come on guys, aren’t we forgetting about something?” Saphry said, looking rather relieved at Auro’s disruption. “Something about eating soup for the whole trip? Auro’s toddler escapades can wait.”

 

Auro looked away suddenly, and Breale got the impression that the last fur-eating incident was quite a bit more recent than her toddler years.

 

Fredrick sighed.

 

“The whole caravan’s being careful with supplies, it’s not just us.” He gestured towards the three other campfires, all of whom were gathered around pots. “Count Ephren’s wanting to save as much as we can in case we have to beat a retreat back to Minua.”

 

Breale watched as a small iren jumped out of a pile of snow and looked around the clearing. Its triangular ears swivelled towards each of the groups as it stood up on its haunches and looked at each person before darting back into the woods.

 

I bet that’d taste nice. 

 

“Why don’t we see what we can find in the woods then?” Breale said. “We’re stuck here for another few hours yet, aren’t we?”

 

It would be a better use of their time, at least Breale thought. Both of the twins had spent countless hours following their father around the woods, and hunting the forests was a common pastime for peasants in Minua. In fact, it was even encouraged in the towns and villages both to clear out the more aggressive fauna and so that the lords could levy skilled bowmen in times of war. If they split up, they might even stumble upon a sleeping langier herd. 

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Surely if I brought in one of those Brother wouldn’t dare to stew it. Breale thought.

 

Fredrick looked sceptical.

 

“We’re only going to be here a few hours. That’s not really enough time to go very deep into the forest. And I doubt Count Ephren would want us splitting off.”

 

Breale snorted.

 

“Oh really? Because I’m pretty sure I could find plenty in even just an hour. Any competent hunter could, really.”

 

“Sister, it’s freezing out here.”

 

“Freezing? We’re in Verol, it’s always freezing! And that’s hardly an excuse, people hunt in winter all the time.”

 

“And we’d pick up such delicious starved beasts.” Fredrick deadpanned.

 

“Iren’s eat pine needles.” Breale jumped to her feet and swiped the dirt from the back of her coat. “I’m not saying we go searching for sverine.”

 

Fredrick rolled his eyes. She knew that she wasn’t tricking him with her talk of food, that it was really her boredom and desire to walk around speaking for her. 

 

“Why don’t you just cut a hole in the river and fish?” He suggested. “At least then you’d be close at hand.”

 

“And freeze my ass off on river ice? Not happening.”

 

“Now listen here, Count Ephren wouldn’t even-”

 

“Do what?”

 

The four of them snapped their heads around to find that the count himself had snuck up behind them. He was carrying a bundle of twigs and small logs, apparently deigning to help with the camp himself.

 

Breale nodded approvingly. Not many nobles in the west and south would bother doing such a thing, thinking such labour to be peasant work. In most parts of Summark, people were more practical, and she was glad to see that they had cousins in Minua of the same mind.

 

“I apologise, my sister was just speaking of wanting to spend the rest galloping through the forest for game.” Fredrick said. “Of course, such a matter would be-”

 

“A great idea, wouldn’t it?” Count Ephren interrupted.

 

Breale shot a victorious look to her brother.

 

“Isn’t it just?” She said. “Why, we might as well bolster our stocks while we can, right?”

 

The Count nodded.

 

“Indeed! If we managed to catch a langier and turned it into stew, we might extend our rations by another two weeks!”

 

Breale wilted a bit.

 

“Ah, I suppose…”

 

“And it has been rather dreary so far.” Count Ephren mused. “I’d hate it if this atmosphere followed our steps to that sunken Northwood. So why not make this a contest? See who can catch the most?”

 

Saphry and Auro looked up at that, and Breale caught her brother frown.

 

“Is that really-” Fredrick began.

 

Count Ephren nodded to himself as if he’d thought of something grand and turned to the rest of the caravan. Raising his arms dramatically and with a loud clearing of his throat, the soldiers and wagoneers reluctantly ripped their eyes from the fires to their lord.

 

“I proclaim a contest!” He announced. “We will split off half of our number to hunt while we still draw breath in Minua. Choose among yourselves groups of twos and ready what bows and staves we will.”

 

And quickly, he added.

 

“Don’t grumble! Casting keeps the chill from your bones far better than any fire, and we could use the practise in scouting. Think of it as training.” He glanced to Breale. “Training that might yet yield something more filling than stew and soup, even. So get to it! Whoever brings in the largest can decide how we cook it!”

 

Count Ephren gave the twins one more nod before scooping backup his twig pile and strutting towards his own wagon.

 

Grumbles and half-hearted mutterings accompanied the soldiers as they got up and prepared themselves for the task. Some grabbed spear staves and cloaks while others picked up the enchanted bows and black feathered arrows for the task. Breale knew from experience that the bow was a better option due to its silence and percision. Unless you wanted to burn giant holes into and stress the animal out, a clean arrow was always preferred. Not that Breale had ever gotten the chance to try with magic, of course.

 

Fredrick rose from his seat without complaint and grabbed the bow he’d leaned against the wagon. As he bent it to string it, he shot a sideways glance towards his sister.

 

“You might want to think of a good spice for iren stew.” 

 

Breale jumped up and grabbed her own bow she’d gotten from Endril before they’d left. It was a simple thing, almost an afterthought in comparison to the one Fredrick had received, but she knew that was because it required more enchantments to allow her to pull the same draw strength as her brothers. 

 

“Ha! We’re eating roasted strips tonight. I’ve had more time to hunt after all, I’d probably win this even with a handicap.”

 

Fredrick had always had duties inherent with his inheritance, after all, and not all of them were things Father had been able to smuggle Breale into. In such cases, she would normally go hunting as a sort of trade.

 

“Oh? Really?”

 

“Bet it on the Star.”

 

“Then take Saphry.”

 

Breale froze and immediately cursed herself. She looked up at the wagon at the girl, finding that she and Silst were peering over the wagon’s last unstrung bow like it was some strange maths problem.

 

I can almost guarantee she can’t shoot a bow. Breale thought. Or move silently. Or know what a Langier or an iren even looks like.

 

“...How about Auro?” Breale tried.

 

“Did you not just swear by the star?” Fredrick asked. “If you want, I’ll take Auro and we can both be handicapped.”

 

Breale looked between her friends, finding that Auro had joined the other two and was stringing the bow. Unfortunately, though she was going about it the right way she didn’t appear to be strong enough to actually finish and the bow slipped out of her grasp.

 

“I suppose we can compete for second to last then.” Breale said.

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