A Crown Of Blades(ARTK, Book 3)

Chapter 90-91

Jono 28th,3330 A.G

Against a bakery very close to what had once been called House Ourri, Drogo leaned. Their journey thus far had been easy but he knew it would not remain such. It would only make whatever came next seem a little more difficult, but he could deal. As he bit into a sugary, flakey pastry filled with jam from a fruit he'd never tasted before- he thought of how things had been in Tristamville.

  How it would have been a nice place to grow up, a better place for his sister to have been raised than frostford, Situated between a river and a smaller, shorter section of the mountain range- he'd noted how it appeared that they grew most of their own food, how there seemed to be no pests eating any of the plants and no sickly animals in any pasture or personal backyard farm. There were an abundance of things to do when one was feeling bored; a painting studio(he did not want to imagine how expensive it were to keep that up), a sparring area, multiple bakeries and even a play stage- something typically reserved for the richest of the nobility.

  As it were in Uculia, they only ever put on religious pieces- or the very rare depiction of dragon legends or the Great War; not that it mattered. In his short stay there, there'd been nothing of interest other than......

  Other than that hour or so they'd spent in a tavern and learned that some genuinely believed Tristam Hamnet would come back from the dead to protect Uculia when it most needed, centuries later. That he would cast a protection over every person, shielding them from Nara Ashhand's giants. Drogo couldn't help but laugh at that one; he'd heard some outlandish beliefs during his travels but that-

  Of course...... he knew blood magick to be real. Knew that a person could be brought back if their body had not been burned- yet tristam Hamnet had been so for two centuries.

  He knew, as every Ebonian child learned as soon as they were old enough to speak - that the giants were real. He knew it as a very small child, before he'd seen a single one of the creatures.

  Hells, he'd believed they existed before he trusted that Turamels did.

He hadn't been able to stop laughing at the idea.... Yet it tugged away at his mind. In this world, he'd learned nothing were at all preposterous. That five hundred years ago, no woman could marry a woman or a man a man anywhere in the world. That five hundred years ago, the idea of slavery ending had sent many of the masters to fall on their own swords because they did not understand that it were still possible to make a living( Drogo had not felt bad for them when an elder village woman told him that story as a child.) That two hundred years ago, the idea that the Great War would indeed come to an end were preposterous- as so much blood had been spilled no side ever intended on forgiving one another.

  That ten years ago..... Drogo had not believed he'd let himself fall in love with anyone, however unrealistic his brain's choice had been.

  What'd been done to his sister....... It seemed ridiculous to think about now, but it'd left him believing that he did not deserve a simple happiness when so many had suffered so much.

And now he knew he would do whatever was commanded of him, not only because he were in love with his queen- but because he wished to make a friend's life simpler.

  He'd heard other things in that tavern too; oft the Otes's coup on House Ourri. Jane and Lisa Otes were said to be as great a warriors, as involved in the battle and planning as their husbands and fathers- so Drogo knew he accurately convey to Nara that this place would not be as easy to take as Kaeles and valia had been; that it would manage to be twice as difficult as the Narenian siege if they did not pin down each and every detail. For with the women involved.... The Otes men would be forced to think their own plans through.