CIRCE

v

Orende is a nation of mountains that curl toward the sky like snow-capped claws intent on shredding the heavens above. The valleys between are steep and carpeted by ever-frosted grass that crunches beneath the hooves of the hasdurs. The Orendi war party has them corralled like a herd of unruly, untrustworthy animals, shepherding them along through the frigid Oren Mountains. The icy air bites Lonan's nose and scrapes down her throat, and she curls further in to herself while keeping what distance she can from the Baron General. Her joints ache in the chill as she feels them stiffen the further she remains in frozen weather.

"Where is it that we're headed to?" Commander Rinn asks.

She herds her collection of humans as well, but it's done with concern rather than the mistrust the Orendi hold. She has carefully placed herself between her officers and which ever guard chooses to stray too close.

In broken English, the Baron General replies; "Asphod. Capital city."

English. That bids Lonan surprise. She hadn't known the Orendi held contact with the humans. However, as she glances behind her to see the look of shock on Commander Rinn's face, she assumes that the commander hadn't known either.

Asphod is a tall city built into the mountain side, carved of stone and crafted of wood, tucked into the valley between two great mountains. Even in this infant summer, Asphod is freezing. The mountains provide no warmth, only cold stone that wind cuts past, whipping into a bitter frenzy. Still, Lonan recognizes the hidden sparks of warmth within the capital city. As they tread down the central street of brick, Lonan spots firelight that spills from widows and catches kids playing in the snow. The market that sits before a grand plaza is one of delightful scents and vibrant colors, hidden beneath a canopy of blankets and tarps that shield it from the wind and snow.

Their convoy halts before a mammoth building of unbreakable stone walls and well-guarded windows. The blood velvet banners that it flies suggests a palace, a dragon insignia proudly displayed in white, though its build is that of a stronghold, a facility created to withstand war and disaster.

The Baron General dismounts their steed and offers their hand to Lonan, who takes it as she slides of the hasdur. Her hips grind uncomfortably with the shift. Tannier is at her side the instant her feet touch solid ground, and in a moment where no one sees, he looks to her with a gentle gaze, relieved to be once more together.

In Joa, the Baron General announces; "The King awaits the Pathfinder and her chosen. As for the humans..."

They trail off and turn instead to the guards with them, foot soldiers in silvery armor and thick, dark fabric.

"Confine them," the Baron General finishes in Oren.

The soldiers move immediately upon their command, encircling the humans as they cry out in shock.

"What are you doing?" Commander Rinn asks in Joa.

"Humans are unwanted in Orende," The Baron General says. "You cause only trouble. The King will decide what to do with you."

Commander Rinn speaks again, but her response is concealed by the shuffling of feet and clinking of armor and a shout from one of the soldiers. Within their confines, they're driven forward with no choice, taken through the front doors of the stronghold and vanishing into the shadows of its alls.

Lonan's hand clings to the fabric of her pant-leg. Commander Rinn and her officers had been taken so quickly and for so little offense. Could it happen to them should she say the wrong thing? Do the wrong thing? Lonan's instinct commands her to shrink away, but she can't, not when the eyes of another nation leer at her, which leaves her skin as gooseflesh.