Rage and Rebellion (Histories of Havenhearth)

4.0 Bernebe

A gentle breeze rustled Bernebe's hair, and the smell of the grasslands filled his nose with freshness, quite a change from the stuffy confines of the ship they had been on only a few days prior. Light grey smoke from a distant fire was the only mark against the blue sky as he and Cerys waited atop a makeshift platform of branches, just to keep the foreigners off the ground and their luggage dry in case of another storm. They waited for Floren Cheshirering who had offered to organise the horse and mule as well as staff for the caravan which would take them all from where they were now, just outside the capital to their new hometown of Chevelles, but he was nowhere to be seen.

From their vantage point, they could see a narrow dirt road which snaked through the grassy fields before them. It was a primitive road, and not one which had been built for large caravans. The road led down into a small village, framed by a small wall of stones. The fire came up from somewhere in the village, but other than a few animals grazing in the field, and birds in the sky, there was no movement. That's odd, Bernebe thought, for the middle of the day. The Cassioni do not take a midday sleep, like their southern neighbours in Petrovia.

He paced up and down the platform, annoyed about Floren being late, tired
still from the journey. So much had happened in the past few days. Or maybe from the warnings from the Tainish capital were ringing in his head:
Proceed slowly, these are primitive types, unlike any we have had to deal with. We are most interested in issues related to Legis, but you must learn all you can of the Dark Markets, for it is these which threaten our expansion with their illicit substance trade, namely Ergot. Be wary of anything you hear about rebel societies, and spiritualist practitioners. Do not involve yourself too deeply. At least not overtly.
Or maybe he was annoyed because he had observed Cerys' interest in Floren: he had caught her looking at him several times. He contemplated what it might have been like if he had been travelling alone instead. She had not kept distance from him on the ship, but since then she had exhibited no interest in him. Instead, it seemed she was far more interested in Floren- who wasn't? He was an attractive, mysterious type. He still did not know exactly what he was- a spy of some kind he had always figured. At the luncheon, he had overheard some deeper gossip about him and some recent unsavoury dealings, but he had not been able to ascertain what business it was, just that it was illegitimate. But Bernebe liked him nonetheless. He was interesting to speak to and fun when you got to know him. Something had been whispered though about his preference in lovers- young but tall and muscley men and women of the East.
When they had left the hotel in Nordmontline, he had ridden his horse, but had had his own empty carriage which followed behind him. Perhaps the carriage was not empty, Bernebe thought. Perhaps he had brought a companion with him for his amusement. Bernebe blushed at his own thoughts, glancing toward the beautiful Cerys to ensure she had not noticed anything. Her normally cheerful face held a look of something- wistfulness? as she waited and he paced up and down. Bernebe, who had never known the touch of a woman, was not naive. He knew what people did when they were married, and indeed he looked forward to it. Of course he had touched himself before, and felt pleasure over his body add especially in his loins, but that arousal had seemed more mechanical to him, and improper and he often resisted temptation to do it, yearning instead for an emotional connection in addition to physical stimulation. Things were different with Cerys. He had never considered the act in too much detail, until he had seen her. Beautiful pale skin, ice blue eyes, curves everywhere. And ever since they had found themselves in each other's arms, he could never remove her from his thoughts. She interrupted them now: "I wonder where he is?"
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
"You don't like him, Bernebe?" She looked at him, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon," he looked away out towards the village, not wanting to discuss him any further, and certainly not with her. "There!" He pointed. He raised his hat in the air at the two of them, using her other hand to steady the horse, ahead of a small caravan of four mules, kicking up brown dirt and dust to carry their luggage and all of the provisions they needed for the trip, slotted to take three to four days. There was also a carriage, which was less a carriage and more a covered wagon, pulled by two horses, plus Floren's own horse. She had also brought with her a number of porters, and Bernebe noticed they all carried swords or other weapons at their hips, thusly doubling as guards. That was unusual too. Eight of them in total, a mix of men and women, all outdoorsy and fierce-looking with dark hair, skin and eyes above pointed cheekbones. They all wore knee-length tunics in dark green over cloth boots. Despite Bernebe seeing them as fearsome at first, the trip allowed him to know them better - each of them had varying degrees of ability in Tainish - and the youngest woman, who also spoke the least of his language, appointed herself as Bernebe's personal help. He was pleased because he thought Cerys might feel jealous. Falenne chattered and laughed constantly and when Bernebe expressed interest in riding on the second day, she was so pleased to help him she did not stop grinning the entire time, helping him into his saddle, and giving him instructions as best as she could. He was so sore after the morning ride however, that he retired into the wagon, a respite from the shooting pain in his hips and legs. All this travel he had done for his studies and never ridden a horse! Cheshirering, he was surprised to see rode the entire time, often galloping ahead to make sure the way was safe.