SIX MONTHS EARLEIR

Breakfast eaten, and morning lessons finished, Rae bounded out of the house, taking the path towards the city proper. His parents and he technically lived in the town’s keep. “Only technically,” his matria always pointed out. In reality, the small homely cottage on a hill overlooking the town was where they spent the majority of their time whenever they were in Miladiel rather than in the capital.

When he was younger he used to ask his parents about why they didn’t live in the keep. “The keep is just too stony,” his matria always replied. “It lets all the cold in, and the monsters,” she’d continue, then would chase Rae around the house, pretending to be a monster, until they both collapsed in a pile of giggles.

Rae thought of that while he walked, looking fondly on those memories. He took a quick detour to Lanar’s bakery for some rolls of bread - not Skegg’s stuffed bread rolls, but freshly baked and still delicious smelling.

Once at the keep, he waved to the guards outside the gates before crossing through the courtyard to a refurbished building that had priorly served as a stable. It housed offices and large meeting rooms now - nothing as large as in the palace proper, but then again, the meetings that were held here were never too crowded. The keep itself still served as a place to live in, only it had been opened up to guests; visiting officials only boarded there if the town’s inn was full, as it often was - it only had a few rooms, after all.

Entering the building, Rae stopped at one of the desks laid out at the entrance. Scribes were eternally in motion, moving through the different rooms carrying documents. They scurried about the hallways like ants, always busy, but still found the time to slow down and return his greetings. He’d always found them so inconspicuous, so amenable, these people that helped run everything from managing towns and trades to apparently simple village fairs. ‘They are nothing alike most of the other officials,’ Rae thought, not for the first time. Perhaps there was something to their environment. Stuck all day in a room, managing appointments or finances - Rae would’ve assumed that could drive anyone crazy. It seemed to be the opposite for these people. Or perhaps it wasn’t the scribes that were the odd ones, but the others. ‘All the travelling they do must be getting to their head, or all the parties they attend, and the politicking,’ he mused.

He waited in front of one of the desks, absentmindedly peering through a ledger. One of the scribes hurrying from room to room called out to him, “If you’re looking for the Queen, she’s in a meeting. Fifth room, top floor. You’ll have to wait.”

“Thank you, but I’m actually here for the Ga’anite,” Rae called back.

“I’ll be right with you then, just wait a minute. And leave those papers alone! No more funny business like last time!”

Rae sheepishly took a step back from the desk, out of range of the temptation to finger through the paper lying on it.

“Okay, what was it you wanted again?” the scribe said, sitting down at their desk and restacking the forms Rae was looking through.

“I’m looking for the Ga’anite.”

“That’s right. The Ga’anite, the Ga’anite-”

“The one found at sea yesterday,” Rae prompted. “The shipwreck.”

“Ha! Yes, that Ga’anite. He’s in the keep, staying in the Queen's suite- I mean, the guest suite. I think the Magister is still with him.”

Rae nodded. “Thanks,” he said, about to leave when he turned around and offered a roll of bread to the scribe in appreciation. They declined and he shrugged, going on his way with a wave.

The door to the quarters the Ga’anite was staying in was indeed closed, and there was a guard standing next to the door. ‘This is oddly familiar,’ Rae thought. The guard turned to him as he climbed to the top of the stairs. It was the same mercenary that had accompanied the Magister to the meeting between him and Rae’s parents the day before.

“You!” the guard exclaimed.

“Me,” Rae agreed. “Are you going to make me leave, or can I wait here?” He didn’t bother to ask the guard why he needed to be there while the magister was simply talking with the Ga’anite. He probably wouldn’t get an answer, and he was long past the stage where he scrutinised just about every odd thing the Magister did.

The guard huffed, “Fine. Just don’t be listening in again.” When Rae moved to sit down on one of the divans lining the walls outside the guest suite, the mercenary stood in front of him, blocking the way.

Rae sighed, going back down the stairs and sitting on the first step. “Is this good enough for you?” he shouted up to the guard.

“It’ll do,” came the reply, followed by some shuffling - presumably to step closer to the landing in order to keep an eye on him.

Munching on one of the breads and lamenting the fact that he had to wait on the stairs when he could’ve instead sat on a comfortable divan, a question popped into his head. Why couldn’t he join the Magister in talking with the Ga’anite? ‘The foreigner must feel like he’s in over his head,’ Rae thought. ‘He’s probably been question day yesterday, and now today too. I should go with the Magister. Then I won’t need to bug the Ga’anite later, and he can rest.’

Rae said as much to the guard, whose laugh echoed down the stairs. “You think if the boss wanted to be bothered he would’ve put me here?” the guard asked. “It’s called sensitive information for a reason.”

“Right, because a Ga’anite that just crashed at sea has access to much more information regarding the kingdom than the literal crown prince?”

“Well-”

“Unless,” Rae interrupted, “you’re implying that the Magister is the one giving away state secrets?”

“What? Of course not! He has no reason to.”

“And if someone hired you for more than him, and told you to spread rumours about the Magister, you wouldn’t trip all over yourself to obey?”

“No, I would never!”

Taken aback by the conviction and sentiment behind that statement - and the statement itself - Rae's next quip stuck to his tongue. He never would have expected this sort of loyalty from any mercenary. Este always warned him about their greed for gold, preaching that their loyalty was the same as their livelihood - directly tied to their income. Appropriately silenced, he remained quiet until the Magister left, followed by the guard and another attendant cloaked in black that had his back turned to Rae.

Upon walking back up the stairs and down the corridor, Rae knocked on the door. When there was no reply, he opened it, poking his head in. “Hello?” he called out, stepping into the room. The door closed softly behind him. “Anyone here?”

It was dark inside, like a cave. Followed a trail of light to the far side of the room, where the Ga’anite stood in front of an opened window, staring outside. “Have you forgotten something, or what?” the Ga’anite asked quietly. “I already told you. I will think about it.”

“Actually,” Rae said after an awkward beat, “I brought some food.”

“Oh. You’re someone else! I didn’t expect anyone else, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. But don’t get your hopes up, it’s just bread. It is freshly baked, though, still a bit warm. I was thinking that we could share some and chat?”

“Oh, please, I’m absolutely starving!” the Ga’anite said, turning around.

Rae’s smile froze on his face. He was looking at… at himself.