The Ivory Knight

Chapter 23 part i

Two days later, they finally arrived at the gates of Castle Dale.

"Lord and lady," Adeleina said at the sight of the looming gates. "Damien, your kingdom is stinking rich."

Damien shrugged nonchalantly, though Adeleina found that the careless shrug was tinged with pride.

"The kingdom is really old," he told her. "Far older than Corandell, mind you. It makes sense that the economy here is more stable."

The two had come to a truce-like peace in the past two days, and though their words were still reserved and carefully polite, the former ease had been seeping back in. Adeleina was glad. She didn't think she could stand much more bickering.

Rowan muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "stupid pretentious dolt", but Damien didn't hear. Adeleina stifled a giggle. She didn't want more trouble with Rowan or Damien.

"Halt!" came the rough shout of a tower guard. "Who goes there?"

The guard, his thick moustache bristling suspiciously down at the trio, disappeared from his window only to reappear at the gates. He levelled his spear and narrowed his eyes at Adeleina, Rowan, and Damien.

"Good grief, boy, out of the way," another guard came up and jostled the first one's shoulder roughly. "That's Prince Damien you're talking to." The first guard's face drained of color, so that it was nearly stark-white. He fumbled an apology and nearly stabbed himself with the spear. The second guard heaved open the gates and stepped back. "Good day, Your Highness. We're very glad to see that you made it back."

"My deepest, most sincere apologies," the first guard said, his nose almost touching the floor in a bow.

"Greenies," the second muttered disdainfully. He shook his head.

Adeleina and Rowan followed Damien through the gates.

"I'll bet we look a sorry sight," Adeleina said sadly, trying not to think of her disgustingly oily hair and her tattered clothes. "No wonder he couldn't recognize you."

"We do," Damien admitted, brushing at his own dirt and sweat-stained breeches. 

"Aren't you glad to be home?" Adeleina asked. As Damien made a nonsensical grunt of assent, her eyes wandered, soaking in the surroundings.

It was easy to tell that this was a far cry from Castle Corandell's grounds. While Corandell had sprawling green lawns of grass and stone tiled walkways, Castle Dale had beds of magnificent flowers that bloomed with all their might, despite the oncoming winter, and flamboyant fountains of marble and gold. From what she could see, the place was almost a palace.

Almost. The castle itself was, undeniably, a true castle. Dark grey stone towers, where shadows of guards flitted between windows, stood tall and proud. The outer curtain wall loomed threateningly, lined with narrow, thing windows through which a skilled archer to shoot from the inside and still be sheltered from oncoming attacks. Surrounding the castle was a moat-- but even the moat lay far, far below, in a canyon. One would have to cross first the narrow stone bridge, only wide enough for two horses to pass through side-by-side, to merely reach the gatehouse.

Adeleina marvelled at the sheer genius of whomever had chosen the location for the castle. It was easy to see how difficult it would be to penetrate and capture it, and it was suddenly clear why Dale was so well-off compared the other kingdoms. The castle was infallible.

Even Rowan was impressed.

"Charred bodies of the Gods," he said, his eyes slightly wide. For Rowan, the expression was equivalent to utter amazement. He was like a stone when it came to facial expressions. "Your castle is impressive."