Legacy (Daughter of War #2)

Chapter 13: Assignments

Music is The Vagabond from the Witcher 3 OST, composed by Marcin Przybyłowicz. Play it!

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The name is odd, yet it truly suits the room it's been given to. Ravens are everywhere—carved into the walls; painted into the furniture; even murdered and stuffed on display atop bookshelves. Their beady black eyes follow me as I try to keep my breathing steady and footsteps even. It's like they know that I'm here—the Deathslayer, wielder of Miraterciel, inheritor of the true power flowing through the Lorelay bloodline. It's like they stir to my very presence, reminding me of who I am every second.

It's rather hard to push the feeling away.

Sunlight streams in through the many windows, bathing everyone in gold. Yet as I take count of the people present—Sir Kendrick, Gilbert, Everest—I can't help but feel that they would look better if the sunlight were moonlight instead. It's as though the layout of the room was meant for the night. It still looks grand in the morning. However...Shadows suit it better.

Or that could be the necromancer in me offering her opinion.

I give myself a small shake, wishing that this meeting could be conducted someplace else.

"Ah, Squire Rutherland." Sir Kendrick peels his eyes off the map before him for a moment to greet me. Right on cue, a cathedral bell tolls ten times. "Just in time, I see."

"Sir Kendrick." I sweep myself into a bow before approaching the table. I nod at Everest—who acknowledges it by returning the gesture—and Gilbert, who barely even seems to note my presence.

I don't blame him. I was absolutely horrible earlier.

"Let's start first. Sir Isaac has taken ill—long journeys are never a good idea for elderly people, even if they're as tough as him," says Sir Kendrick, a hand brushing idly against the map splayed out on the table.

I look at Gilbert, searching for some comfort in the fact that my mentor could very well be linked to the whole infection. But he studiously avoids my gaze, taking interest in a tiny scrawl of black ridges on the map labelled as the Cave of Three Souls, sitting on the border between Perinus and Thiruthia, not too far away from Battein. Perfect. Cartography is more interesting than me now.

"Originally, I'd planned for us to be divided into three groups, investigating the area according to its provinces," Sir Kendrick continues. He slashes a finger across Battein, roughly separating it into its three provinces for emphasis. "But the...unprecedented event now forces us to conduct this investigation differently. We're thinly spread out, and the fact that Sir Isaac doesn't seem to be up to the task makes the situation worse." He finally looks up from the map, brown eyes blazing and boring into everyone. "And the bloody weather here makes our work even more damnable."

We murmur our agreement about the weather. It's true though—the snow seems harsher, wilder. As though we were residing in the Dreyachian Mountains, far away from the comparably mild weather in Perinus.

"Can't we send for more aid from Cordair? Or Rutherland, in the least?" asks Everest. At the mention of my namesake and my place of birth, my attention snaps towards the guard.

"King Terrell had barely agreed to fund this journey," Sir Kendrick says slowly, as though reluctant to let the information spill out. And it's no wonder—what had happened before or after the meeting? Automatically, my eyes find Gilbert's. This time, he doesn't deign to look away. But he looks just as blank as I probably do.

The Bane heaves a heavy sigh. "As of now, Perinus stands in an extremely precarious position—our resources are nearly exhausted, our forces are thinned out, and the people haven't exactly recovered from Diomedes' brief—but effective—moment of terror," he starts to explain. "Yes, initially, King Terrell had agreed wholeheartedly to give as much coin as we need into this investigation. But...after he thought more about it, he wanted to pull out."