How to Find your Way in the Incomplete Archives

Eight

"We will reach the New Holy Territory in another five days," Archaea said between chopping vegetables for their evening meal, "Things could get dangerous from here on out,"

"We might run into the Holy Army at any time," added Arlan from inside the half-pitched tent.

Fremont quietly tended to the fire.

There were no explicit mentions but these warnings were aimed at the young man. He had not explained why he was so scared of the Blodwenian soldiers and neither of his kind hosts had pried into the matter. However, as their destination loomed within sight, they could no longer ignore the unspoken queries.

"We plan to head north until we reach the Shadow Fortress. Our destination is the fortress city of Umbrapolis," Arlan started to set up the cooking pot, "But the place will be infested with the Holy Army soldiers. We can take a detour and drop you off wherever you need to go,"

He continued to stir the burning logs with a twig.

"Fremont?" the touch of calloused fingers brought him back to the moment.

"I," he hesitated, "I also plan to go to the capital,"

"Might we know why?" Archaea plopped down next to him. She busied herself in filling up the pot.

"I have to find out what happened to them," he murmured.

"Them? Do you mean your family?"

He nodded a silent 'yes'.

"Were they living inside the city walls?"

"They lived in the castle of the Shadow King," he dared not meet her eyes. The claim was ridiculous. It was common knowledge that Umbrapolis Castle only hired orphans and those with no ties to the external world. That was how it had been for the past three centuries.

The Boglanders exchanged looks but did not refute him outright.

Arlan sat down opposite him, "You've been travelling with us for a while now. We've all heard the rumours. They say none within the castle walls escaped the slaughter of the Holy Army."

"I must go see for myself," it took effort to steady his breathing.

Both of his listeners disagreed.

"It will be difficult with how things stand," the Advisor explained.

"But if you tell us how to identify them, and write out a letter, we can pass on your message when we meet them," Archaea said in a reassuring tone, "During that time, you can wait in a village outside the fortress."

She knew it was impractical. Once they crossed the thresholds of the fortress, there would be little hope of them ever emerging back.

Fremont must have sensed it too. He did not answer but continued looking at the ground.

Archaea covered his trembling hands with her own, "I only say this for your safety. The risks are high. I'm certain your family would rather know you are doing well elsewhere than have you go to death's den to greet them."

The words weighed heavy on him. Their young guest spoke in a sombre tone, "I'm only alive because of them. I want to know what happened. I must know! I won't get in your way, I promise. Please help me reach the city at least."

Unshed tears welled up in the clear eyes. The young face donned a dark expression. It was the face of someone clinging to his last lifeline.

Archaea nodded.

Arlan leaned closer to the grieving man, "If that is how you feel, we will not stop you from accompanying us,"

"Really? I won't be a burden in any way. I'll search for them on my own once I'm there, you needn't worry about me."