RR 29

Chapter : 29

They took a lap around the market, but there was truly nothing to buy.

So they asked around, and the answer was the same as the innkeeper’s.
A merchant who came from the capital once a month should have arrived by now,
but still hadn’t shown up.

Sean said,

“Maybe if we ask at the inn, they’ll make something for us?”

“You heard yesterday. They’re out of food too. Not even potatoes left.”

“Oh… right.”

“At least listen when someone’s talking.”

“Okay.”

“Looks like there’s no point searching anymore. Let’s just go back to Lord Triss.”

“Yeah.”

They were turning back toward the forge when a sound rang out in the distance.
Suddenly the whole village seemed to come alive.
Clatter, clatter.
At last, the merchant had arrived, and the marketplace burst back into motion.

When the merchant pulled back the cover from his cart, all kinds of goods appeared.
Villagers swarmed toward him as if they had been waiting all day. Ron and Sean were no exception.

Ron lit up and bought hay and bark, while Sean grabbed bread, potatoes, and dried pork.
The merchant never stopped talking as he sold his wares.
Now it was clear—he was a carrier of news.
Once a month he came from the capital, rattling off all the things that had happened there.
Hearing stories was everyone’s favorite pastime, and these two were no exception.
After stocking up, they pricked up their ears.

“So a whole village roof just caved in. I’m telling you, that’s how much snow fell! Cleaning it up took—”

“Did I mention that place? You know, the one with nine kids hanging off the mother like grapes? Well, she’s pregnant again…”

People listened, spellbound.
Then the merchant glanced around and whispered, as though revealing a secret.
That made everyone press in even closer.

“The king’s getting remarried, and Duke Kisling is holding a jousting tournament to celebrate. I heard it with my own ears.”

“That can’t be. The Church would never permit divorce.”

“I heard Queen Meril jumped from a window. Don’t know if it’s true—just passing on what I heard.”

“What? Then you mean Queen Meril is dead?”

“That’s right. Which is why the king’s marrying again. But it’s good for us, supposedly. The new queen-to-be, Lady Johas, is said to be kind to folk like us.”

“Yeah, I heard that too. Anyway, who cares who becomes queen? As long as our lives get better.”

The merchant spoke, spit flying as he got excited.

“Exactly! As long as we get by well, that’s what matters. And because of that jousting tournament coming up this spring, rumor is the merchant guilds in the capital are going to hoard stock.”

“What? Hoarding?”

“That’s what I said. Everyone sees it as a chance to make money. So if you need anything, you’d better buy now. Prices will probably double.”

“What? Double? We could always buy from Ake territory if it comes to that.”

“Ake territory? You know how rough their merchants are, right? You’ve never managed to get a thing from them.”

The Ake domain’s merchant guild was infamous for arrogance.
They didn’t bother with small deals—only massive orders to the capital, counts, and dukedoms.
So even nearby villages never saw their traders.

“Still, doubling the price is robbery.”

“Robbery? You know no one comes here except me! Who would waste time on a poor backwater like this?
Fine! This is my last trip then!”

The mood suddenly turned cold, and someone hastily stepped in.

“Haha, no need for that. Just talk, that’s all!
Come on now—next time you visit—”

Seeing others soothe the merchant, Ron and Sean slipped away.
They felt they’d overheard something important.
They’d never left their lands, so kings and queens meant little—but Triss would be pleased to hear the news.

They hurried back to the forge.
By now Triss was drenched in sweat from head to toe, from standing before the flames.
Craftsmen surrounded him, watching his every move, learning just by observing.

Triss spotted them.

“You’re back? Got everything?”

They showed what they’d bought, and Triss nodded with satisfaction.
Ron leaned close and whispered,

“While we were buying, we heard a rumor—Queen Meril is dead.”

Triss snapped his head up.

“What?”

“So the king will remarry, and Duke Kisling will host a spring jousting tournament. And they’re saying goods will be hoarded.”

Pieces clicked together at once, and Triss understood immediately.
This was big.
He thought of Wintergarden.
Before Queen Meril died, she had given Emblin a refuge.
If so, they had to hurry—or someone would seize that land.

“I see.”

Word would reach Ake soon.
Triss could already picture the duke’s rage—watching a despised bastard become a legitimate heir.
And plenty of other lords thought just like the Ake duke.

Triss muttered under his breath,

“A storm is coming.”

It was not a matter of right or wrong.
Just a collision of lives and values.
But he would not stand aside.
His eyes gleamed coldly.
He felt more certain than ever that leaving his domain had been the right choice.

Then he noticed Ron staring at him, eyes bright with hope for praise.
Triss ruffled his untidy hair.

“Go find Peta and bring him back. We leave at noon.”

“Yes!”

Peta had gone to scout the roads.
But since the merchant’s wagons made it through, the roads were likely fine.
Once the swords were finished, they could depart at once.
News from the capital would soon reach Ake.

Peta burst back into the forge, panting.

“We’re leaving? Okay, I’ll get ready!”

“How were the roads?”

“Ah, passable enough.”

Triss shot him a glance and said sharply,

“And you made sure to say we’re headed to Redian territory?”

“…Huh?”

Triss let out a cold smile.

“The duke must be beside himself—heir living with the mad daughter, and all that.”

Peta nodded silently.
Triss’s voice turned icy.

“Good. Maybe now he’ll finally cut the last thread tying us together. Let’s go!”

A freezing wind wrapped around Triss’s neck, like a warning.
For the first time, he stood alone.
The road ahead would not be easy—that much the wind seemed to say.
Triss’s mouth twisted in a wry half‑smile.
He brushed his neck with his hand as if severing the wind.
His eyes shone deep and ocean‑blue.

Emblin walked as though on a quiet stroll.
Every step into the ankle‑deep snow made a sound.
Crunch, crunch.
A dried‑leaf smile flickered on her lips.
Wintergarden.
The moment she arrived, she understood why Meril had loved this place.

Wintergarden was a fortress built inside a cave on a cliff.
It had been designed as a stronghold from the beginning—the moat was so deep that no one would dare approach without the drawbridge.
But beyond the massive oak gate lay a surprisingly cozy hall.

Torches and a roaring hearth kept the damp at bay.
The carved‑stone bedrooms and stairwells made it clear why it was such a fortress.
The cliff face itself served as wall and shield.
Deeper still, another heavy door waited.
If you opened it…

Emblin paused and looked around.
Pale winter sunlight rested on her crown, and every breath drifted out in white clouds.
The smile vanished into a blank expression, but she seemed at peace.

Beyond Wintergarden’s inner gate lay another world entirely.
From the outside it looked like a mountain, and no one would guess what was hidden within—
A vast hollow space ringed by stone, like a valley held in the palm of nature:
towering trees, a waterfall, a pond shimmering emerald, wide fields of grass, and air impossibly clear.

Emblin closed her eyes.
In the wind brushing past her skin, she felt Meril’s presence.
Her lips twisted faintly with bitterness.
Already February.
Meril’s funeral had been bleak.
Because she had taken her own life, they could not make it grand.

The heiress who had once been the richest in Srowland met a lonely and small end.
That was the last news Emblin received.
After that, the capital seemed to forget she existed.
And she hoped—prayed—it would stay that way.
Let them never look for her again.

Emblin shivered suddenly.
She must have been outside too long.
The chill crept up her ankles and spread through her whole body.
She needed to take care of herself—there was no one else to do it.
Emblin was utterly, completely alone.