“I was thinking about it,” he admitted.
“Just thinking about it?” Nathaniel echoed. “Is there something wrong with my daughter?”
Vighon heard the jest in his voice. “The timing seems a little… inappropriate.”
“You’ve been in love with each other since you were teenagers,” Nathaniel pointed out. “I would say it’s overdue.”
The northman was shaking his head. “I was referring to the war we’re still in the middle of. I don’t think my people will be too happy to know that their king has priorities besides fighting the enemy.”
“I’m not suggesting you end your campaign to organise a wedding,” Nathaniel explained. “I just think it’s time you two stopped waiting. It was hard enough watching you mope around the halls of The Dragon Keep all those years.”
Vighon scowled. “I never moped!”
“You moped a little,” Nathaniel said with a shrug.
The king laughed it off. “I know I want to spend the rest of my life with Inara. I’m just not sure how much life that is. We still have a long way to go…” Vighon let his words fade into hot vapour before he talked of killing Alijah in front of Nathaniel.
“All the more reason not to wait,” Nathaniel uttered quietly, his own thoughts likely drifting to Vighon’s unsaid words and the war’s inevitable conclusion.
The king slapped a hand on the old knight’s shoulder. “Come,” he bade with some enthusiasm. “Let us enjoy a drink before the meal. Kassian has come to me with an idea about the future and I would know your thoughts on the matter.”
50
Endings and Beginnings
There wasn’t a tavern in all of Palios that wasn’t caught in the thralls of celebration. The Palosians drank to a city freed of Reavers and the return of their king, while those who had fought on The Moonlit Plains toasted to soft beds, hot food, and a significant victory under their belt.
The general ruckus was amplified by the bands that brought their music to every watering hole in Palios. In The Giant’s Eye, several patrons had taken to dancing on the tables while others stamped their feet and sang along. Ale was going everywhere, sloshed into the air with every beat in the rhythm.
It reminded Asher of The Pick-Axe.
Sitting alone, the ranger brought his tankard to his lips and paused. He dwelled on memories of both Russell and Adan’Karth before taking a drink.
Asher spared a moment to wonder about Gideon and the elves. If they had succeeded in their task, there was, perhaps, a path to ultimate victory. And from there… The ranger could not comprehend the true meaning of immortality yet. Endless sunrises and sunsets. The fatigue of old age never to grip his frail body. The idea of it was too much for him to fathom.
A Namdhorian soldier gave him a rough pat on the shoulder as he passed the ranger’s table. He shouted something unintelligible, known only to the inebriated, and the entire tavern chanted Asher’s name - a brief interlude before the singing continued. The ranger threw out some friendly nods and half a smile while lifting his tankard in appreciation.
To be known was an unfamiliar and wholly unsettling feeling. It felt wrong to be recognised. Learning to move unnoticed had taken years of training in Nightfall, an art he had practised until it became second nature to pass through the world like a ghost. Now complete strangers were chanting his name in a tavern in Palios.
Unable to reconcile his mixed feelings on the matter, Asher shook his head, put down his tankard, and left The Giant’s Eye. He had rented a room in the tavern but he had no intention of sleeping there - another lesson from his past. Instead, he had always planned to slip away and sleep in the large stables on Governor Tarlan’s estate, north of the All-Tower. It was there that he had left a young sleeping dragon, nestled in a pile of hay.
Without thinking about it, Asher ducked into the first dark alley he came across and began a circuitous route to the grand estate. He meandered the winding streets, sometimes doubling back on himself, while his thoughts wandered the halls of his mind. He could still see and even smell Thessaleia’s memories. It was an extraordinary feeling, but the ranger was quite sure Avandriell was dreaming of those same memories as he walked the streets.
Eager to see his companion, Asher found a more direct route and began a swifter journey to the stables. He passed one lively tavern as Kassian and a large group of his Keepers were coming out. They were laughing amongst themselves having enjoyed an evening of revels, though Kassian himself wore the expression of a man carrying a good deal of weight. He noted Asher’s passing and offered the ranger a friendly nod before following his fellow mages to another tavern down the street.
Having met the soldiers guarding the governor’s estate on his way out, Asher was welcomed back with a short bow of their heads. He nodded his thanks as they opened the gates for him, revealing the gardens that stretched to the small fortress. Smaller buildings dotted the grounds: places for servants to rest and guards to take breaks.
Taking the path to his left, between the rows of neatly-trimmed hedges, the ranger made for the large stable-block that had been abandoned by the governor in favour of the newly erected one on the other side of the estate, closer to the main gates. Having heard of these details earlier in the day, Asher knew he had found his bed for the night.
Taking care with the creaky door, the ranger entered as quietly as he could, sensing Avandriell’s sleeping form nearby. She was exactly where he had left her, in the back right stall, curled up on the hay that had been left behind. Her tail was curved around the shape of her body and resting
