Carnelian

Chapter 2

Sir James D'Apice rode his horse along the forest road at a walk; any faster and the horse limped in one shoulder. He blamed only himself for the animal's injury. Carrying a message from his lord, the baron, to the viscount who was the baron's lord, Sir James had been pushing hard to arrive at his destination.

He'd only been given enough food for three days, even knowing that the journey was bound to be a four-day ride at a reasonable pace. Two days into the journey and just over halfway to his destination, the horse had begun limping. Though the horse had ceased limping at a walk, the limp returned as soon as Sir James asked for a trot, making it necessary to seek the advice of a stable-master as soon as possible. That had been two days before.

Sir James had run out of supplies despite his careful hoarding of the food. He'd given the horse all the grain he'd been carrying and his bread besides, but the cheese and fruit he'd been given hadn't been enough to go very far. To make matters worse, there hadn't been anywhere to refill his water bottle since he'd entered the forest, nearly two days before. Though he'd hoarded his water as best he could, it had run out just that morning.

Trying to ignore his grumbling innards, Sir James carefully studied the terrain around him. The road had overgrown with neglect sometime the day before. Fearing further injury for the beast, Sir James quit the saddle and led the horse afoot.

Ahead of him, the road curved sharply to the south. Sir James stumbled over a vine and frowned. "This road should not be curving at all," he told the horse. "See how much smaller the trees are, if we stay our course? Someone has altered the roadway." With determination, he continued on his course, using his sword to clear some of the more persistent vegetation.

That the course of the roadway had been altered at all was of some concern to the young knight, but he also wished to gain his destination with all due speed, which would only happen with the shortest distance possible. As he continued forward, away from the roadway, Sir James continued to list all the reasons for maintaining the original course, rather than remaining on the existing roadway, overgrown as it was. The growl in his stomach made the final point.

The road had been built through the forest by the first viscount, Rupert Gerard D'Apice, who'd been granted the land by the earl and tasked with settling the land with too few servants to properly do the job. The viscount had divided his holdings into baronages and connected each baronage by road to each other and with his own keep, the Castle Holder. The roads allowed the viscount access to the farthest reaches of his holdings, allowed the barons to easily pay their assessments, call for aid or send for supplies if the occasion warranted.

The first viscount had been Sir James' ancestor, four generations previous, as Sir James' father was the current viscount. Born the third son, Sir James had been sent at the age of seven years old to one of the barons to serve as page and then squire while he trained as a knight.

Upon earning the coveted title, Sir James, as third-born, had been given a pair of golden spurs by his father to commemorate the achievement. In contrast, his next-older brother had been given a harness of armor and a horse as well.

For lack of any better options as a penniless knight, Sir James had remained in the baron's household as one of his men, accepting bed and board as payment, along with an annual stipend. Four years after being knighted, Sir James had yet to have earned enough to even purchase his own sword, let alone a horse or armor.

Eventually, there came a point at which the knight's way was entirely blocked by a veritable wall of vegetation. Vines had grown up into a tangle of willow branches and other young trees to form a rather dense hedge. In some places, the weave of the willow looked almost contrived, as if some person had designed a living fence. It was a ridiculous notion, so Sir James drew his sword again and made to hack a hole through the tangle of vines and branches.