The following day, Blayre, Ainslee and Fletcher filed out of the Three Archers, bundled against the cold of early morning. Frost-covered grass crunched beneath her boots as she crossed the stableyard leading her gray mare.
Growing up in the mountains had, if anything, made Blayre dislike the cold even more. She rubbed her nose into the softness of her scarf - imported material from the southern end of the continent that Fletcher had gifted them the previous mid-winter. Having grown up on the coast, he knew his way about the merchant stalls.
"You're acting as though someone is about to spring from that door and attack you." Ainslee's musical voice startled Blayre, who had not even realized she was staring at the door to the Three Archers in the first place.
Blayre rolled the tension from her shoulders and diverted her attention to her friend, as Ainslee's creamy freckled nose and striking auburn curls disappeared underneath her own dark scarf and hood. The pair of gray eyes that peaked out at her were glittering mischievously. "Are you looking for the man you were with last night?"
"Ains, for the last time, I was just exploring."
"Well you were exploring for quite a long time, and if you ask me there isn't much to explore in this place. You left me to fend for myself with this drunkard." Ainslee kicked Fletcher in the shin.
The accused glared up at her from the bench he had seated himself on to re-lace his leather boots, squinting despite the cloud cover. Fletcher shook his sheaf of brown hair out of his eyes. His gaze shifted to Blayre. "I'm appalled that you left me behind in your explorations." He pouted dramatically.
Blayre rolled her eyes. "I just needed some air." And she had - originally, until she felt the pulses of Ripley's power calling to her like the scent of an injured animal calls to a carnivorous beast. There were once people who could sense magic, Ripley had said, and they hunted wizards. Well, that was already what her job as a seeker entailed - except Seekers brought rogue mages to the capital for a trial rather than flat out killing them. The difficult part was finding hard evidence to incriminate the ones she apprehended when she so badly wanted to just tell everyone what she could do.
But Blayre did not want to face the repercussions that the public knowledge of her Sense would bring. She would likely be viewed by her fellow Seekers as a cheat. She could be controlled and used by powerful people to meet their needs. Or neither of those things would happen and her power might be glorified. She would be unstoppable as a Seeker, and likely a top candidate for The Twelve. Was achieving her dream worth being shunned by her friends and the first real sense of community she had ever felt?
"Let's get going." Blayre said, eager to change the subject. The normal thrill she felt at the prospect of apprehending a rogue mage was dampened by their destination, and her worry over the state of the Duke de Vihrea. Rorrick and Ripley hadn't been in the common room for breakfast and when Blayre had inquired as to the status of the patrons of room 3-03, the staff-member had replied that they had sent for their breakfast to be brought up to them.
Curiosity had overcome her once more and she had made a quick round of the third floor, hand in pocket, searching for that feeling of wrongness that had come from the crystalline object she had obtained from Rory. She had felt no trace of it, which meant his body had either expelled it, or they had left the Inn.
Which was almost fine with Blayre - the thought of facing Ripley again made her queasy.
"You ok?" Fletcher said, shrinking his long strides to match her short ones as they headed for the stable yard of the Three Archers. "I know returning home is probably - difficult for you." His words were intended to be a comfort, but instead they were a reminder of what had been bothering her in the first place - prior to last night's run-in.
The mountain stronghold of Blumore and the town of Mountainvale were where she had spent her younger years, but they weren't home. Home was not a place where you felt unwanted or out of place most of the time. She knew her father loved her and cared for her, but he had seldom been around - making frequent trips to treat with the mountain tribes to the west.
Having spent nearly half of her twenty years in the Capital, she had experienced less of the sickening feeling of not belonging. Being the bastard daughter of Lord Darach of Blumore caused her less strife among the ranks of the Seekers-, Soldiers-, and Sorcerers-in-training and employ in Emares City than it had in the enclosed mountain home.
"I'll be fine." Blayre waved off his concern. "I doubt I'll have to spend much time in the castle itself. My father will brief us on what he knows and then we'll go straight to work. It's just another job." She gave her friends a smile that she hoped didn't look as forced as it felt.
Blumore Castle stood high above the town of Mountainvale, partially encapsulated by morning fog. It reminded Blayre of a vigilant mountain sheep presiding over his herd, deeper in the valley below.
A brief thrill of excitement rushed through her at the site of her former residence.The peaks of the Airgean Mountains provided a backdrop resplendent in alpine trees and craggy rocks and stones. The off-white stone walls of the fortress stood stark against the green foliage of springtime in the mountains, but the shroud of morning mist gave it an imposing feel. As Blayre and her friends moved through Mountainvale, closer and closer to the road that would lead them up to Blumore, her heart quickened with anticipation and regret at never having been able to fully enjoy this beautiful place.
The friends stopped at a stall selling fresh meat pies, bagging them for a quick meal should they get hungry on their way uphill. Mountainvale was a quaint valley town with successful farming and resourcing industries keeping it comfortably prosperous, and Blayre's mouth watered remembering the food stalls on her trips down to the town in the company of her brother Seaver. Just two years her senior, he had been immune to his mother's dislike of Blayre having never recalled a time when his younger half-sibling was not about as a playmate to run through the forested mountainside hacking at invisible foes and playing at target practice on the trees.
Seaver had made her childhood at least somewhat bearable - like the brief glimpses of sunlight that broke through the canopy of alpines overhead.
Blayre stroked the dove-gray neck of her horse absentmindedly - the color that had given the mare her name. Dove moved steadily beneath the young woman, her sable mane a match to Blayre's own dark locks. Being with horses had always provided Blayre with a feeling of security - ever since she had been a ragamuffin girl hiding in her family's own stables. Sired by a mountain-bred stallion, and her dam a flatlander mare, Dove was a versatile mount for nearly any terrain that Blayre encountered on her assignments.
The gray mare trudged along dutifully behind Fletcher and his own mare, with Ainslee's gelding bringing up the rear. Blayre couldn't help but wonder if they had surrounded her front and back to ensure she wouldn't turn tail and gallop Dove back down the mountainside.
It wasn't a bad idea.
The fog began to lift as the trio picked their way up the mountain, leaving in its wake a fortress that looked far less foreboding. Blayre's spirits lifted a bit as they ascended and the road became better paved. Half-listening to Ainslee's ceaseless chatter, she recognized landmarks here and there - such as the tumble of three large stones that marked a trail leading to The Great Oak tree. A falcon called overhead and Blayre thought wistfully of the mews where all of the beautiful birds of prey were kept for hunting. Blayre had fond memories of the kestrel her father had gifted her for her 9th birthday.
It was interesting, how the mind could so easily bring forth good memories in a past riddled with grim ones.
The entrance gates appeared up ahead as the land leveled out slightly..
"Not a bad looking place, eh?" Fletcher said, as they passed through the gatehouse and into the lush green of the front courtyard.
"Did you think I grew up in a hovel, Fletch?" Blayre asked with a smirk, swinging a leg over Dove as she dismounted lithely, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet when she hit the dirt stableyard. Unwinding her scarf from her face, she glanced down at the black crown uniform, brushing a bit of dust from it - but overall the green-accented material green didn't look too worse for wear. The tailored outfit boosted her confidence as she strode toward the stables, Fletcher and Ainslee in tow. It didn't have anything on it that identified her as a seeker - that would defeat the purpose of stealth, and a uniform in general was pushing the limits a bit. But the uniform was for the briefing and they'd decide on future apparel once they got started.
"Hamish! Be sure to git the the lordling's stallion groomed and ready to go. He's wantin' to take the falcon out."
The owner of the familiar voice appeared in the stable doorway - a wiry older woman, hands on hips, and covered in dirt and dust.
"Hello Sheila." Blayre grinned, resisting the urge to throw herself at her favorite horsemistress.
The woman squinted, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. She they slid down to Blayre's uniform, the golden Emarian dragon sigil pinned to Blayre's left lapel twinkled in the sunlight. Sheila's eyes went back up to Blayre's. "M'lady. They said we were ta be expectin ya, but I didnt believe ye'd actually come back here. Not after what happened the last time." Her voice lowered, and Blayre felt a sinking feeling at that not-so-fond memory.
Though she was technically bastard-born, Emarian custom dictated that she be addressed by her noble title. Even though it made Lady Marianna livid. Then again, everything about Blayre made Lady Marianna livid.
"Seaver's home as well?" Blayre asked, changing the subject. Her brother was Blumore's heir, hence the term "lordling". Though he was no longer the small scrappy boy who had once fit the label.
"Aye, M'lady, he arrived a few days past from his post East of here." A strand of gray hair had loosened from its constraints and Sheila batted it away from her lined face.
"Well excellent. I'll be glad to see him." Blayre smiled. "By the way Sheila, these are my colleagues; Fletcher Whitsteam and Ainslee Oakwell. Be sure to take good care of their horses as well."
"Ye know ye dont even have to ask it." Sheila smiled, shaking her head. "Dovey can go next to yer brother's gelding. There are two stalls at the far end for the other two." Blayre gave the woman a quick hug and then led Dove into the stable herself.
"Of course you'd be rubbing down your own damn horse, when we have plenty of good staff to do the job." The aristocratic baritone was unmistakeable - especially with the mouth of a soldier. And a soldier, Seaver of Blumore was.
Blayre straightened and set the currycomb she'd been using on Dove down on a stool, unable to hold back a squeal of joy from seeing her brother. All six-foot-four of him. He had their father's ebony hair and striking green eyes. A thin layer of dark stubble covered the lower portion of his face, making him look older than Blayre had ever remembered.
She buried her face in his overcoat, breathing in deeply the familiar scent of alpine and woodsmoke. "I've missed you, Seav." She muttered into the heavy cloth.
"I've missed you too, sister." He gave her a squeeze then let her go, ruffling her hair. Blayre made a face at him and did her best to smooth it back into place, which was difficult to do when it had been pulled from a braid.
"I'm taking the falcon out for some fresh air, you should join me."
Blayre sighed wistfully, "I'd love to, but I'm here for a job, Seav. I have to go speak with father as soon as I'm done here."
"What's all the commotion?" Ainslee's voice came from around the outside of the stall. Her small form appeared beside Seaver's. "Oh! Seaver, I almost didn't recognize you, it's been a while."
Blayre rolled her eyes at Dove, who snorted in agreement. Ainslee and Seaver had a certain affection for each other. "You didn't recognize him?" She muttered under her breath. Ainslee either didn't hear, or selectively ignored the comment.
Blayre gave Dove one final pat on the rump before grabbing the bucket of grooming tools and pushing her way past her brother and friend. Fletcher was closing the half-door to his mare's stall as she walked past. He glanced down the hall, and gave her a knowing eyebrow raise.
Blayre shook her head in mild exasperation and Fletcher fell in behind her, calling back to their friend "There's work to be done, Ains! Time for play later."
Perhaps this visit would not be as awful as she thought.