A Tale of Crown and Country

Reila

It was mid-day and yet not a soul batted an eye at the bandits as they ambled down Aldira's streets. Crowds passed by without noticing the girl tied to her saddle. Reila was invisible to them.

    Morto led them down the main street in the city. The innumerable sounds of city life–scraps of conversation, chatter of children, hooves and wooden wheels on stone, merchants shouting their wares–bombarded her senses. Everywhere she looked people were on their way somewhere important. Foreign spices littered the air and the smell of a two thousand people within the city walls overwhelmed her. The hum of energy that pulsed through the streets made her on edge. This was not the city she remembered from her childhood. But they were far from the ocean's edge, from the docks and merchant stalls. They were headed up hill, towards the castle that marked the tip of the knoll that Aldira had spilled out of.

    They had left the natural world behind; here there was only the beige markings of human ingenuity and technological advantage. Every stone in Aldira had been brought up from the cliffs below. Safe from invaders on every side, Aldira had never been taken, captured, or otherwise harmed. It was impenetrable and inescapable. Every street wound its way in circles and every alley led to a dead end. Soldiers roamed the lower town at regular intervals. The city itself was a fortress surrounding its ultimate treasure: the royal family.

    Far from the influences of the capital, Reila had never seen the royal family, nor had she really ever been interested in them. They had never shown any interest in Quaelsi, so why shouldn't she return the favour? Her own opinion of them was less than favourable: the king was controlling, his laws dominating, and his sons the spitting image of him in appearance and in spirit. Even the one daughter, whom most argued was gentler than her father, wasn't high in Reila's regard. She had grown up in a castle, surrounded by riches and privilege, and Reila–though having never met the girl–thought her entirely entitled.

    It was different out here, out by the sea. Salt hung in the air but there was a dryness that, if the sea had not been visible from the city, Reila would have thought them inland. They were further south, she admitted, and the sun beat down on them as the bandits climbed the hill towards the castle gates.

    The castle didn't have a name, as far as Reila knew. It was the only castle in Allriya, and chances were if someone mentioned a castle, this was the one to which they were referring. It spiked up from the top of the hill to overlook Aldira, the Adith sea, and the plains that spread out like blankets at a picnic over the land. Stone beaten by wind and water were faded but standing strong. Spires curled up like horns out of each of the four corner towers and Reila couldn't help but imagine it a monstrous beast ready to devour its prey.

    Two soldiers stopped them at the gates. Morto introduced himself, and only himself. He said the king was expecting him, that he had something for the king. The soldier didn't believe him and went off to check. He returned a moment later with an apology and an open gate. Morto tipped his hat to the man, grinned, and led his men–and Reila–past the castle walls. They'd passed the second line of defence.

    They dismounted in a walled-in courtyard just past the gate. Well, everyone except Reila. She waited for one of Morto's right-hand men, referred to by the others as "Lefty", to come untie her. He left her wrists untied and she was left to stand around useless while the men tied up their steeds. There wasn't anywhere for her to go, and they knew it. Besides, a curious part of her wanted to find out the whole story; and it overwhelmed the part of her that screamed danger.

    Morto, Lefty, and a man in a bright red blouse named Veirin, took Reila with them as they left the rest of the men behind. She followed them out of the boxed-in courtyard and into the main structure of the castle. Heavy wooden doors groaned as Morto pushed them open. A long hall awaited them, filled with pompous portraits and a rich red carpet that sank under Reila's boots. She felt as though the eyes of the long-dead kings of Allriya were following her. She hurried after the party. Apparently Morto wasn't nervous about her running off. In fact, he was as smug as an illegal bandit could be walking towards the supreme power of Allriya.