Excerpt: The Nine Towers

Settai woke up bright and early the next morning, slightly surprised to find that the icecat wasn’t sitting on his chest. Instead, it was sitting by the window, which was opened onto a snow-covered landscape. Faint sounds of drills could be heard from somewhere below, and as Settai rolled out of bed, already working on his stiff shoulder, he recognized the loud voice of the king calling out the drills to a group of soldiers and what was probably most of the Estontum Guard.
“Poor kids,” he muttered. The king always visited each of the provinces at least once a year, and he would review the Guard of that province each time. It was always a nerve-wracking experience, for both the guardsmen and Settai, when Jernigan came to Ontai. There was never much reason for him to be worried – there were reasons that the Ontai Guard was considered the best – but the king required that every member of the Guard be present, which meant that he had to call in all the patrols. This visit always happened during the ‘spring’ of Ontai (which wasn’t too different from the winter, except that it snowed a lot less), and the Borderland monsters were always more active during the slightly warmer weather.
It was very irritating, but it never turned out too badly.
“So what’s with ye?” Settai asked after a moment of watching the drilling guardsmen. He glanced down at the icecat. “Am I not comf’ble anymore?” Not that Settai wanted to be the feline’s pillow all night, but it seemed slightly odd to him.
The icecat didn’t answer, but padded over to the fire, which had only dying coals. It glanced back at Settai almost pointedly, and he took some of the wood from the stack by the fireplace and heaped it on the glowing embers until a fire had begun.
Massaging his shoulder, Settai moved to the table, where his sword laid. He picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed, drawing the blade out of its sheath.
For being hauled about in all sorts of weather, it looked pretty decent, Settai discovered. However, the scabbard was in worse shape, the leather too stiff and catching on the blade. He resolved to get a new one, setting it aside and testing the blade’s edge.
He glanced up as the door opened, one of the servants peeking in. It was a young boy, who seemed surprised that Settai was already awake and there was already a fire roaring in the fireplace. The icecat looked up lazily, tail swishing back and forth. The boy almost withdrew from the room, but Settai smirked as he recognized the youth’s curiosity.
“It don’t bite,” he informed the boy. “And if it does, it’ll regret it.” The icecat gave a somewhat reproachful noise, then set its head back down and yawned.
“It’s a very big cat, sir,” the boy said quietly, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. He couldn’t be much older than thirteen, Settai decided. The servant hesitantly approached the icecat, skirting around it as he added another log to the fire, and then looked at the window. “Did you open that, sir?”
“No, I didn’t,” Settai replied, watching as the boy began to close it. “It’s fine, though. Not too cold.”
The youngster gave Settai a look as if to say, ‘You’re insane,’ but left it open and instead checked on the jug of water on the table, which was cold. “If you’d like, sir, I can get something warmer with breakfast.”
“That’d be fine,” Settai replied absently. “Is breakfast ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’d be nice, if ye don’t mind, kid. Do me a favor, though? Can ye get a sharpenin’ stone and soemthin’ t’polish this with?” Settai held up the sword, hoping that the boy had some vague idea of how to get that. If there were soldiers here, there had to be a blade kit somewhere.
“Yes, sir,” he repeated, taking the jug after he set yet another log on the fire (Settai was starting to wonder how cold-blooded the boy was, because he was plenty warm).
The servant left quickly, again leaving Settai alone with the icecat, who refused to speak, apparently. Settai normally wasn’t a fidgety man, but he was very irked at the entire isolation deal and returned to the window to watch the men drill. The king looked perfectly fine out in the cold weather, though the soldiers moved sluggishly, as if unused to being up so early in freezing weather like this.
At least Settai knew, for sure, that they were better than someone. One would think that Estontum’s Guard would be one of the better ones, seeing as they were basically the king’s Guard, but Settai spotted several mistakes without even trying to find them.
He remained in the position of leaning on the windowsill for several minutes, looking up only when the door opened. Stevin, who had appropriated the tray of food from the young servant, as well as carrying his own blade kit (the boy got to carry the jug of now warm water), looked in and entered, setting the entire deal on the table and then tossing a bit of meat to the icecat in an attempt to further the shaky friendship between them.
“Captain,” Stevin said, giving a salute. Settai returned it, accepting the kit that Stevin handed him. “Caleb gave the baby another blessing today, at the king’s request.” Stevin’s voice was low, and the icecat gave a quiet growl, scaring the boy out of the room as soon as the youth was done with his duties.
“Blasted cleric,” Settai muttered, scowling. “Why? Didn’t he already get one?” Stevin shrugged, looking down at his hands.
“Two, actually,” he muttered. “Though that one he gave when you passed out was more of some sort of thanking deal.”
“Was that what it was?” Settai muttered, rubbing his chin and wincing. He didn’t like being scratchy. “How’s breakfast.”
“Pretty warm and it tastes alright,” Stevin said with a shrug. “They’re not feeding us as well as they could be, but it tastes well enough, I suppose.”
“I don’t want them feeding us as well as they could,” Settai muttered, reaching for the food eagerly. “Makes ye spoiled.”
“If you say so,” Stevin muttered under his breath, hooking the single chair in the room with his foot and dragging it over to him. He sat down, resting his elbows on the table. “The Estontum Guard looks a little rough.”
“No kidding,” Settai muttered, taking a bit. He waited until he had swallowed it before continuing. “Are they used to the cold, do ye think?”
“I asked around. I don’t think they are. They say this is the roughest winter they’ve had in years.”
“Huh.” Settai snorted derisively, poking at the questionable porridge. It tasted good, even if it looked like something unmentionable. “I can believe that. Lowlanders.”
“I hear the king favors ‘em, though,” Stevin continued, drawing Settai’s sword over to him and looking it over. The captain made no comment when the younger guard began to sharpen it. The methodic rasping of the sharpening stone provided enough of a familiar background that Settai felt a little better. “He lets ‘em get away with a whole lotta stuff we wouldn’t be able to.” Stevin glanced at the captain, who was tight-lipped as he ate. The icecat was purring loudly, sprawled out in front of the fire in such a way that it looked twice as long as it really was. Stevin was growing a little more used to its presence – he no longer cast a look at it every few minutes, as if expecting the feline to jump up and eat him.
“Huh.” Settai swallowed the last bit of the porridge and set his chin in one hand, still perching on the edge of the bed. His mind was forcibly drawn back to what happened last night and what the icecat had said. He cast a look at the animal now, then set the now empty bowl back on the table and stood. “When do they finish?”
“Probably around mid-morning,” Stevin answered. “That’s what I’ve heard, leastways. Sounds the same as ours.”
“Is there a training yard?” Settai asked next, starting to put on his uniform. If there was a training yard, it should be empty at the moment – the Guards were being drilled in the open area just before one of the main gates, which was rather big.
“Yes, I found it when we first got here,” Stevin replied, standing up and handing the sword to Settai once he was done. Stevin omitted the fact that he had spent the better part of a day out there training himself to exhaustion – he hadn’t known what else to do. Settai hadn’t arrived and Michelle and Michael were gone and Caleb wouldn’t allow him to go look for his Captain. The Estontum Guards stationed here had been impressed, he had noticed, which just added to their presumed inadequacy.
Settai was pleased to find the training yard empty like Stevin said, and proceeded to unfasten his coat, showing just the uniform beneath. Stevin did the same – the cold didn’t bother them too much, as they would be warm soon and it wasn’t even snowing or windy. The icecat proceeded to sit on the coats, tucking its huge paws underneath its body and watching as Settai began to drill himself and Stevin. They were soon quite warm, sweating despite the fact that their breath hung in the air.
Settai called off a break, waiting just long enough until he began to feel chilly again. He then collected his sword, shifting into a fighting stance in front of Stevin. “Spar now,” the Captain instructed shortly. “Your move.” He nodded towards Stevin, who nodded back a little hesitantly. Practice matches against Settai himself were rare among most of the junior guard; Settai preferred to train against the other senior guardsmen, where he could actually have a challenge most of the time (at least, that’s what most of the guards suspected).
Stevin shifted his grip on the swordhilt, nodding back at Settai.A few seconds passed by with no move, before Stevin suddenly lashed out, swinging his sword in a manner too predictable. Settai blocked it, stopping the blade mid-swing and shoving backwards so that Stevin moved back. The youth hesitated, then started in again, executing a series of movements that Settai recognized, blocking them perfectly.
The fight went on like this for the next few minutes, until Settai disarmed Stevin by forcing the younger man to swing wide and then smacking his hand hard with the flat of his blade. Stevin was panting again by now, accepting his sword back from Settai with a numbed hand.
“You’re too predictable,” Settai said bluntly. “Ye use those sequences from training days. Use somethin’ else, mix it up. And stop missing the openings.” Settai backed up after this short reprimand, holding his sword in a ready position. “Again.”
The captain kept Stevin at it for a good while longer, allowing short rests to breathe and cool down or point out Stevin’s mistakes. During their third or fourth bout, it suddenly became apparent that there were others in the training yard, most of the Estontum Guard watching them spar curiously. No one had spoken or made any sign that they were there, so it was when Settai had again disarmed Stevin (though after a much better fight than the others) that they both noticed the other men and women watching them. The young servant boy who had been assigned to Settai was among them, and as they stopped, he suddenly remembered something (besides to close his gaping mouth).
“S-Sir, the king would like to speak to you,” he called suddenly. Settai blinked, then sheathed his sword with a nod, glancing at Stevin and nodding.
“We’ll work on your defense later,” the man muttered, nudging the icecat with his toe so that it moved and he could collect his coat, tossing Stevin’s to him. The younger guardsman was breathing visibly harder than Settai, and didn’t immediately put his coat back on as he captain started to move back to the fortress, ignoring the others. The icecat following him was probably the reason that the all moved back to avoid him. It helped things along by giving a low growl upon occasion, causing Settai to roll his eyes to himself.
He didn’t expect to know where the king was, but Settai was quite surprised when, after exiting the training yard, Jernigan himself was waiting there, his horse’s reins in hand. After Settai gave a somewhat informal bow, the king turned and handed the reins to a waiting groom before heading for the nearest door into the castle. Settai followed silently, quite aware of the icecat pressing close to his legs and wondering what the lowlanders thought of northerners now.
Settai was led to the small room they had met in the night before, the fire still roaring away. Immediately, as the king and Settai both took a seat, the icecat bounded over to the fire and curled up in front of it, tail flicking over its face. Silence again reigned for a few moments, until it was filled with the feline’s loud purring.
“During your story, Captain, you, ah, implicated the Rutshen Guard quite a bit,” Jernigan said after a few moments. He sent Settai a questioning look, and the captain glanced at the icecat for a moment before replying.
“I told you what happened, sir,” he replied coolly. “I might have been inclined to believe a set up was what happened, If I hadn’t overhead what I did. If that’s what ye call implicatin’, then fine.” He shifted forward so that he was leaning on his elbows, which rested on his knees, slightly unaware of the fact that this lack of posture in front of the king was more than little rude.
“I could take this as a plot to put a black mark upon Rutshen Province,” Jernigan replied, as if in musing. Settai glanced up, a slightly confused look on his face.
“I’m not aware of any reason for that,” Settai replied pointedly. “Wouldn’t be much o’ anything to gain by it.”
“Really?” Jernigan muttered. Settai shifted uncomfortably, straightening in his chair. He was aware of a break in the icecat’s purring – the animal had looked up as well, showing some interest for once.
“Sir, the most I know is that Lady Shiana didn’t much like most of the other Province Lords an’ Ladies,” Settai said firmly, running right over the cursed phrase of “Pelros rest her soul” the king murmured. “Nothin’ so bad as for us to try something like that. Like I said, nothing to gain by it. Maybe it was a set up. I don’t know.” His voice had become tenser as he spoke, and the icecat had stopped purring altogether.
Jernigan remained silent, watching Settai with a gaze that almost chilled him and made him regret he had spoken so. The icecat gave a low growl, sitting up and attracting the king’s attention. There was silence for a few moments as the feline and Jernigan seemed to have a staring contest, making Settai feel thoroughly uncomfortable. Inevitably, it was Ontai who won (cats have some sort of advantage in that sort of thing), and the king quietly moved on to another topic.
“You train your Guards hard,” he noted. Settai could immediately feel the back of his neck go warm, and he scratched it absently, looking away. Had there been an undercurrent of disapproval in there somewhere?
“Ontai is a hard place to live,” Settai said as evenly as he could. “We’ve got more to worry about than just bandits.” Oh, goodness, if that didn’t sound too cocky or self-oriented, Settai didn’t know what would.
The king snorted, raising an eyebrow at Settai, who again looked away. “Really?” he asked, looking vaguely disinterested. The icecat gave an indescribable noise, hiding its noise in its large paws. Settai, displeased with himself, nodded towards the icecat grumpily.
“Not all of those are nice and cuddly,” he replied bluntly. Ontai looked up and gave a faint noise of protest, and Settai ignored it. “Though the Borderlanders help out much more’n ye give ‘em credit for.”
“Yes, well,” the king replied with a wave of his hand, not really paying attention any more. He stood abruptly. “You are dismissed, Captain.”

“He’s changed.” Settai didn’t even wait to close the door to address the icecat as they made their way back to his room. Ontai snorted and jumped up onto the captain’s bed lithely, settling down on the end.
“You haven’t noticed?” the icecat said wryly, tail flicking back and forth.
“I ain’t spendin’ most my time in court, kitty,” Settai snapped as he took a seat, rubbing his shoulder. “That was the Lady’s job, her an’ her servants. I jus’ took care of security.” He had been to the capital once or twice, though not near enough to remember the route very well. Each time had been as boring as watching molasses (during any time of the year in Ontai) run anywhere, and it hadtaken all of the captain’s willpower not to fall asleep standing up during the meetings he was taken along to. Courtly etiquette was neither his style nor concern.
But the king did seem different. “I’m tired of his half-sayings, though,” the captain continued after a moment, dragging the chair over to the window so that he could watch the activity below again. “He won’t give me any straight answers. Used to do that all the time, when I met him before. Not that he spent much time in Ontai after reviewing the Guard, but…”
“He is different. It isn’t just you,” the icecat replied, its eyes half-closing as he settled down. “Old age does terrible things to a human.”
“He can’t be much older than me, no matter how he looks,” Settai said, slightly confused and with a hint of dryness.
“Being a king speeds up your aging, I believe,” the icecat said sagely. “You have a different set of worries than him.”
Settai fell silent, rubbing his thumb along the grain of the table. That was right. “Funerals,” he muttered, rubbing a hand through his hair.
“They didn’t die without reason,” the icecat said after a moment, almost looking worried, if a cat could produce such an expression. Settai glanced up with surprise as a warm head was butted against his hand. The icecat was purring quietly, rubbing its head against his hand like any normal animal asking for a scratch. For some reason it was comforting, and Settai obliged without any resistance.
“They really didn’t.” Settai was amazed to find that the icecat could purr and talk at the same time. “None of them did, and none of it was your fault, Tanjen. You can stop letting it hurt you any day now.” The icecat’s tone was becoming somewhat critical by now, and Settai stopped rubbing it, glancing out the window again.
“I could’ve stopped it, though,” he muttered. A sudden, sharp pain entered his hand, and Settai yelped, jerking away from the icecat to find that it had bitten his hand – it was bleeding very slightly. “What?”
Ontai just gave a low growl, before turning and stalking off to the fireplace, curling up in front of it again and letting Settai think to himself until Stevin came to bring his lunch.

“How’d you and Caleb get here?” Settai asked after lunch. The plates had been eaten clean, and the icecat was sitting with its head on Stevin’s feet, purring loudly. It had been a question that Settai had wanted to ask for quite some time.
Stevin was quiet for a moment, before shrugging and reaching down to stroke the icecat’s thick fur. “A lot easier than you, Captain,” he muttered. “Caleb kept me from going after you, said it wouldn’t be good if there were two of us lost. When the icecats ran off, we stayed where we were, so we wouldn’t get lost. Once the storm stopped, Caleb was ‘bout frozen all the way down to his bone. I told him he had to keep moving.” Stevin gave a dry smirk. “The horses were fine, though I spent half of it just walking around in circles. I was too fidgety.” He rubbed his chin, the beginnings of a well-trimmed beard imminent.
“So, um, we got here on schedule after the next couple of days. Caleb actually got frostbite pretty bad, and if the healers here weren’t so blazing good, he’d’ve been missing a couple fingers.” Stevin gave another shrug, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking at his hands. “Guess we had a better job of it than you did, sir.” He sounded almost apologetic, and Settai snorted.
“Yeah, well, we’re all here,” he muttered. “That’s as good as we could’ve hoped for.” All of them but Michael and Michelle, and that rejoinder was evident on both Settai’s and Stevin’s face, though neither of them said it out loud.

The three northerners remained there for the better part of the winter, Settai keeping up a correspondence with his second in the Ontai Guard by way of messenger birds. The icecat began to disappear for days at a time. Both Stevin and Settai descended into a quiet sort of gloom, the two of them practicing often, but otherwise keeping out of sight from the king and his attendants as they worked on turning the castle into their new capital.
The winter refused to calm down, and soon Settai began to feel guilty, staying in the lowlands where it was at least a little milder. Stevin was itching to get home, so it wasn’t too long before Settai approached the king on the subject of taking little Zain back home, where he belonged and where they were needed – a new outbreak had occurred, a small band of monsters that had slipped out of the north and were raiding a few of the lower Ontai villages.
The king stared at him over his hands, which were clasped together at eye level, his elbows resting on the desk. “It’s snowing pretty hard lately,” he said evenly.
Settai gave a self-conscious shrug. “Yeah, well, ain’t nothing we’re not already used to,” he muttered sardonically.
“You’ll be risking the child’s life again,” Jernigan pointed out. Settai glanced up, suddenly angry. The king made it sound as if he, Settai, had risked the infant’s life by bringing him here.
Like he had any choice. The king had ordered them to come out during the winter, the stupidest choice any one could have made. And yes, it was only slightly less stupid that Settai wanted to leave during that same winter, but they were doing nothing to help the Guard here in Estontum.
“Sir, if you’d give us an escort, perhaps, we’d be able to make it well enough,” he replied evenly, clenching his hands in his lap and watching the edge of the desk ever so carefully.
The answer was no, and Settai was dismissed. The man allowed himself to stomp out of the room, and once he had gone up to his own quarters, the sole chair in the room was promptly hit against the wall (several times) before Settai turned around to find the icecat sitting on the windowsill after an absence of three or four days.
It didn’t speak, but just gave him an amused look and mewled at the dying fire. Settai had been considered insane by the young servant assigned to him because he always left the window open, so there was a larger stack of wood than normal that took up the entire corner of that square room. Settai, himself feeling like a servant, built the fire up, standing near the warmth for a few moments before moving back to the chilly air by the window.
Settai’s next letter from Ontai thoroughly confused him – all it said was, “I want to see my son.”
It took Settai several seconds before he managed to find the signature of Lord Cyan, not his second (Ivan was Settai’s second in command – the names were similar, give him a break). The captain worked this through his mind, then gave a slow grin. He moved to sit down at the table, the wood creaking suddenly as the icecat jumped up on it to peer at the letter. Settai figured that it must have been able to read, because the feline settled down on the ominously groaning table and began to purr, its face the very picture of smug.
Settai penned an answer very quickly, briefly explaining the situation. He put no requests for help in the letter – the Lord of the Nine Towers would not let this slide past at all.

Settai figured it must have taken a day or two for the bird to carry the message to wherever it had come from, though he received no answer.
His answer came about a week and a half later. Settai was quite bothered by the fact that it had taken him probably twice as long as that to make his journey, but that small annoyance was overshadowed by his surprise and gratification when Stevin burst in, looking very confused.
“Lord Cyan’s here!” he gasped. The icecat, who had commandeered Settai’s bed and even now had its tail and back paws dangling over one edge (it was a very long cat) bolted up and to the floor, almost looking eager. Settai glanced up from the window (it was fast becoming his favorite spot when he wasn’t busy drilling Stevin in swordplay).
“What?”
“Okay, maybe not here yet, but a messenger just came in. The Lord himself is coming pretty quickly, though,” Stevin amended, stepping aside as the icecat pushed past him. Settai didn’t bother being polite – he just pushed Stevin out of the doorway as he passed by, and the younger man followed him, answering Settai’s questions promptly.
“How long?”
“The scout just got here, sir,” Stevin answered. “Sent someone to fetch the king while he takes care of his horse.” Settai gave a snort, but had similar sentiments – Stevin had told him how the lowlanders treated the Ontai-bred horses, and it was not in an optimum way, even if they weren’t being mishandled (the stable hands had had a rough time of it when Settai had heard that the mounts were being stabled in stalls much too small for them).
“How many are coming with him?” Settai asked as they crossed the large entrance hall. Stevin bit his lip for a moment.
“Almost forty,” he said, surprised. “All Borderlanders. I figure King Jernigan’s done something wrong again.”
Settai had a thin smile evident on his face as they crossed the large entrance hall, the icecat waiting by the doors for them to let it out. The feline slipped out as soon as the crack was wide enough, and Settai had just enough time to brush out the mild wrinkles in his uniform when the rest of the party of Borderlanders cantered into the courtyard, the horses in no specific formation but all stopping easily without getting in one another’s way.
Lord Cyan was easy to spot, aside from the fact that he was the first rider. He wasn’t exactly the tallest – he was actually short for a Borderlander, though still taller than many in the lower parts of Lukima – nor the man with the most muscle. He was, however, the oldest, with a pristine, but thick, mustache and slightly long bronze-colored hair, pulled back loosely. Said hair was graying, and there were lines on his face that would not have made themselves apparent until the man was well past forty, but an air of authority was what distinguished the man from the rest of the Borderlanders, all who remained where they were after they dismounted, chatting and joking and looking as impressive as they could to the Estontum Guard, all who gathered and looked over the Borderlanders with a critical eye.
“Captain,” Cyan said briefly as he approached the castle. Settai nodded in return, disdaining a salute when Cyan himself did not. The Borderlander instead glanced briefly at Stevin, nodded, then glanced over as the scout came back, looking somewhat slighted.
“He says that he’s busy an’ he’ll see ye in ‘bout an hour or so,” the scout said stiffly. “Through his bloody servant. The man wouldn’t even let me deliver my message personally. Now, we’re s’posed t’wait and go eat, or something.”
Settai wisely took a step back. Cyan’s eyebrows snapped together in a frown as he took off his riding gloves, slapping them together and then tucking them into his belt. “Does he, now?” the man growled slightly. He gestured for the scout to go back to the others, then strode immediately into the entrance hall. Settai accompanied him as Stevin was accosted by one or two of the younger Borderlanders that had met him before. The icecat padded after him, and Settai was surprised to see that Cyan, in his place, was not surprised when he looked down and saw the feline.
“Hello, Ontai,” he said rather warmly. The big cat just looked up, blinked, and said only, “Sir” as it padded between Settai and Cyan both, easily keeping pace.
“He finally showed hisself to ye?” Cyan muttered, giving Settai a brief smirk. The captain just gave a vague smile and shrug in return, subtly guiding Cyan to the king’s study.
“Wait! What are you doing?” A servant, looking very frantic indeed as he popped out of nowhere (it was a servant thing, Settai figured) and blocked their way to the stretch of hall that terminated in the king’s study. He quailed as Cyan looked down rather sternly at him, his reproach reduced into stammering. Cyan waited just a moment longer, and when the servant still did not move, despite the fact that he was barely making himself intelligible, the Borderlander firmly, but not roughly, grasped the servant by the shoulders and shifted him to the side far enough that they could pass by.
Settai allowed Cyan to go first, remaining just inside the doorway while Cyan himself marched right up to the king’s desk. Jernigan looked up, surprised, and scooted back a little as Cyan deliberately gripped the edges of the desk and leaned over it, clear hazel eyes glowering at the king as he spoke, clearly emphasizing each word.
“I would like to see my son. Now.”
There was silence for a few moments as both men seemed to size each other up. Settai had to wonder who would really be more intimidating – at the moment, he was rather on the side of Lord Cyan, for all that the man didn’t look terribly handsome, as the king did (from generations of inbreeding, no doubt). Still, he had a vague hope that Jernigan would not see him trying to cover a smirk with his hand, standing quietly in the background.
For all that this was a startling experience, Jernigan pulled himself together rather quickly, giving a nod and standing up, pretending not to notice that he had to look up to Cyan.
“Of course,” he murmured. “Forgive me, Lord Cyan.” Not likely, Settai thought with a mental snort. He and Ontai both moved to the side when Jernigan called for his servant, the nervous man whom Cyan had displaced moments earlier. “Take Lord Cyan to his son,” he said curtly.
“Thank you, King Jernigan,” Cyan said coolly, straightening and turning on his heel to give the servant a cold look. “Let’s hurry.” The hint was pointed enough that the servant scurried off without further ado, although Settai could have just as easily showed Cyan to where his son was.
Upon arriving, the servant mumbled some sort of excuse and left quickly. Cyan muttered under his breath, then opened the door. Settai was slightly surprised by how lived in the nursery suddenly looked – he hadn’t been able to see Zain much, which had bothered him more than anything the king had said. Now, however, there was another child in the room, a small boy who looked to be about three or four, playing with a maid. The woman was startled as the two men strode in, and she gave a quiet shriek when she spotted the icecat (apparently, not everyone had known about the icecat here). Gathering the young infant into her arms, she moved to stand protectively by the cradle that held Zain.
Cyan blinked, then attempted a warm smile. “Don’t worry, miss,” he reassured her. “The kit’s harmless enough. I’m Lord Cyan. The boy’s father.” He made an impatient gesture to the cradle, but the maid didn’t move, still staring at the icecat in shock. The boy she held, though, seemed fascinated with the creature, and began to say things like “Kitty kitty c’mere.”
Ontai looked properly affronted by this, though Settai was relieved to find that the icecat did not growl, or otherwise pay it much mind besides stepping over to the fireplace and flopping down.
Cyan, meanwhile, was becoming fed up with servants, and he set the maid aside like he did to the king’s manservant, ignoring her weak protests.
Looking at the man, Settai was amazed to find a complete change in Cyan. While the man was not really as hard-hearted as everyone assumed from the stories of the Borderlands, Settai had not expected to find him so… soft.
Cyan picked Zain up silently and gingerly, as if he were holding something made of brittle glass. The infant didn’t seem to know what to make of this new man, but at least he didn’t cry, something that Cyan had feared now that he actually saw the child. He was glad for Settai’s silence – from what Cyan remembered of him, the captain had always found it easy to jibe others, though he seemed quite serious as of late.
“Doesn’t look much like ye,” Settai muttered, though it was just an attempt to break the silence. The man sidled over and leaned against the wall. Cyan glanced at him, slightly amused, before shaking his head.
“No, he don’t,” the man muttered. “Makes me miss Shiana e’en more.” He noticed Settai’s wince at his own tactlessness and gave a thin smile. “It’s fine, Captain. Why don’t ye tell me about your journey ‘ere? Your letter didn’t explain half as much as I would like to know.”
Settai gave a quiet sigh, but did as the Borderlander asked, relating his story. Cyan stood, rocking slightly on his heels with the child held against his chest. He was a silent audience, not bothering to ask for details or interrupting at all. It was silent for a few moments but for the three-year-old boy playing with his maid and occasionally escaping her to approach Ontai, who would scare him off with a snarl.
“Michael and Michelle, huh?” Cyan asked after a moment. Once Settai nodded, he continued, nodding himself. “I didn’t know them too well, but their reputation was enough. Your mother spoke often and well of them.” He gave a small smile down at his son. “Ye can’t know how grateful I am to ye, Settai.”
“It was a useless, wasted journey,” Settai muttered bitterly. “I…” He shook his head, wanting to say more but unwilling to do so when the maid seemed to perk up at his words. Cyan gave a morose chuckle.
“Shouldn’t ye be up north?” Settai said suddenly. “I heard that nothin’s goin’ too well.”
Cyan gave a heavy sigh. “I must admit that I let my own interests get to me this time,” he murmured, gently stroking the infant’s head.
“Can’t blame ye,” Settai chuckled, shifting a little. “I think I’d do the same.”
“Ye need a kid,” Cyan said bluntly, smirking. “Don’t take my example and wait for forever ‘bout it, either.” Settai shared an embarrassed little laugh with Cyan’s fuller, louder, and more boisterous one before an awkward silence settled in between them again.
“How are your others doin’, then?” Settai asked after a moment, watching Ontai change position so that he was stretched out to his full length.
“They’re fine,” Cyan said with a shrug. “My little lady’s fed up to the teeth, what with her brother bein’ Regent of Ontai and all. He’s tryin’ to boss her around all the time on how to be a lady, and she jus’ wants to be a fighter, just like her father.” He seemed quietly smug about that.
Settai smiled quietly – humble, Cyan was not.

The king was quite happy to grant them their wish of taking Zain back to Ontai Province, though it was hard to refuse the boy’s own father, especially when said father was very threatening towards Jernigan (everyone knew who would win if It came to a fight). They resolved to leave the next morning, Settai and Stevin accompanying them.
Stevin had spent much of the day with the Borderlanders in the traditional way – testing his swordsmanship against theirs while they all showed off in front of the Estontum Guard. Settai and the icecat remained with Cyan, if only for the sake of figuring out the trip home and trying to find the solution to why Rutshen Guards would have attacked Settai on his journey.

The trip home was exactly opposite of Settai’s trip to the capital. Everything went as planned, there weren’t any signs of attackers, and though Caleb had insisted upon tagging along (he and Settai had begun to get into more and more philosophical arguments, and these served to furnish everyone with headaches as the cleric and the nonbeliever discussed trivial-seeming ideas), no one but Settai minded too much.
The reason for Cyan’s speed was explained when Settai found out that the man drove them much harder than Settai even did to his own guardsmen. They would wake early in the morning, before dawn even, and continue until it was well past midnight. Settai, who, despite being injured, had always had good stamina, was finding the pace tiresome after the first two days, even with the stops the infant forced them to make (Cyan really was a big softy, and now everyone saw that, forcing him to endure merciless teasing).

Things really were bad in Ontai Province. After a day of traveling at a more sedate pace through the lower parts of the area, they reached the outskirts of a town that Settai knew very well, and were considerably surprised.
It hadn’t been razed to the ground, but the outer edges of the moderately-sized farming community looked as if it had been struck by a fire. Several men were helping the farmers repair what they could, both Borderlanders and members of the Ontai Guard.
“What happened?” Settai asked sharply as he drew abreast of Cyan. The older man was stonefaced as he shrugged.
“I don’t know, but it must have been recent. Looks like fire. See, the snow near the houses is a much lower level, probably fresh on the ground.” Cyan pointed, and Settai nodded agreement to the observation. “This village was fine when we stopped here,” he muttered, then dismounted, leaving the horse to stand there. Settai did the same a moment later, hoped his horse (which Cyan had lent to him from one of their extra remounts) would be as tame as Cyan’s, and trotted after the Borderlander.
The Borderlanders and guardsmen had seen them coming apparently, and Settai recognized his second in command, Ivan, coming towards them, bundled up against the cold.
“Thank Pelros,” the man rasped gruffly, giving Cyan a nod in place of a bow and clasping Settai’s wrist. “I sent off a message to you at the capital, but you’re already here, I guess.”
“What happened?” Cyan inquired, hugging Zain in his sling a little tighter to his torso.
“Don’t rightly now,” Ivan muttered, pausing to cough nastily. There were smoke stains on his face, Settai noticed. “The Guard, we were bunkin’ here for the night when your Borderlanders rushed into town, yellin’ about a raid.” He wearily passed a shaking hand over his face. “I figure it was some Borderlands mages, maybe a couple orcs with ‘em. We managed to kill three, the rest ran off. Lord Cyan, your Borderlanders were a bloody help. I sent out a couple scouts, but they haven’t returned yet.”
Settai patted Ivan on the shoulder, recognizing his weariness. Without asking Cyan himself, the captain found himself volunteering him and the entire company to help. “Get some rest, Ivan. Ye can report later, an’ we’ll take care of it.”
Cyan didn’t object to the offer of help – he immediately turned to his group and started barking orders, bustling Caleb off to heal whatever wounds he found, ignoring the cleric’s protests at being so rudely handled and addressed. Ivan gave his feeble protests more out of protocol than any actual objections, and willingly went to go find someplace to rest when Settai began to snap at him.
Two of the farmers and one of Settai’s guardsmen had died in the scuffle, but that loss, when compared practically, was tiny compared to the fact that almost all the fields and cattle were destroyed. Most of the houses that had been burned were utterly destroyed as well, but there were a few only mildly struck that had been getting repaired. The villagers had already seen to burying their own, and the body of the young guardswoman who had fallen was wrapped up and set to the side, where Ivan took up his rest and steadfastly refused to leave.
The women and children had been in the midst of making a meager communal lunch, and though Cyan felt bad about thrusting his forty men upon them, they took the burden without comment, welcoming the supplies the Borderlanders immediately gave them.
Cyan had left his child with the town’s healer woman as he worked, disjointedly hearing stories of the nightly attack from the farmers and the others who had witnessed it. He inevitably found himself working along Settai, who looked completely discomfited. The icecat had disappeared.
“I dunno what we’re gonna do,” Settai muttered, pausing a moment to rub chilly hands together. Cyan rubbed the back of his neck as the younger man continued. “I’ll have to tell the regent, but from what Ivan’s said, there’s been more attacks. None so bad as this, though. Thankfully.”
Cyan hesitated, then put in a question. “Not so bad, how?”
“Not many have died, and their farms are mostly intact,” Settai reported, looking troubled indeed. “Hang the king. I shouldn’t’ve gone, Cyan, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Cyan suddenly said, sharply. “None of this is your fault. Not to be horribly rude, but I don’t think one more man, Captain or no, could’ve made too much of a difference. Listen.” Cyan rubbed one arm, even as Settai was massaging his shoulder. “I’ll send down some supplies here, and give you some extra Borderlanders. Don’t object,” he said shortly, running right over Settai’s futile attempt to refuse the (very) generous offer. “We’ve got enough of a surplus up at the Towers to spare this, and the Saxions’ trade will be plenty to see us through, even if we do go short a little. It’s been a tough winter, but we’re more than half over. Attacks on the Towers aren’t too bad lately.” He flashed a brief grin, hoping Settai wouldn’t challenge the blatant lie. “Call it payback, for keeping my son safe.”
“Put it that way,” Settai muttered, trying to be grumpy about it. However, it was clear that he was relieved by the small smile on his face. “Thank you. Ye have no obligation, though.”
Cyan chuckled, turning away to go help with some other menial chore. “I have every obligation, Captain Settai,” he muttered.

They remained at that small village for a few more days, but they soon had to take their leave. Ivan’s group joined them, the scouts eventually returning to report that, though they had encountered and killed a couple of icecats (Ontai had been very disgruntled about that, but had fortunately refrained from expressing his objections), the ones who had instigated the attack were long gone. Settai hadn’t ordered them out again – they had had a rough time, he soon learned, and resolved that, once the funerals were over, he would take out a sizable patrol himself and make up for his absence.

None of the Guard was pleased to hear about the deaths of Michael and Michelle, or even the young woman who had died in Ivan’s group. Everyone who hadn’t been sent out on a patrol suffered through the hour-long service, during which it snowed lightly.
In Ontai, due to the ground being frozen in the more northern parts of the province the whole year round, the bodies of deceased ones were burned, though in many cases, the bodies weren’t recovered. The Ontai Guard had their own graveyard, rows of markers that were embellished according to the friends and family of the deceased. Before each, a small white-blue flame hovered, courtesy of the one powerful mage who made his home in Ontai, a man named Mattin.
There weren’t really any template for the funeral service: Settai would speak, then anyone else who wished to would, before Mattin stepped forward to perform the spell for the flame. It was a sad affai, and the only thing that Settai found to be worse than this was the writing of the letters to the families of the dead.
Both he and Stevin remained long after the services were done. The Captain, after wishing Cyan a good journey home (he had been surprised and pleased to find that Cyan had wished to stay for the funerals), wandered along the rows as the snow subsided and a chilly mist closed in. He had nearly stumbled over the younger guard, his apology coming belatedly after Stevin’s.
Stevin had been sitting in front of a tombstone, staring at the words on it which were lit up only vaguely by the flickering flame.
It wasn’t Michelle’s, Settai realized belatedly. Hesitantly, he joined Stevin on the ground, getting a better look and giving a quiet sigh.
“I’m sorry, Stevin,” he said quietly. Stevin shrugged in reply, drawing his knees up under his chin.
“They didn’t deserve it,” Stevin muttered after a moment, sounding alarmingly bitter. “None of them did. Not my sister, not Michelle…” His voice trailed off as he snuffled. Settai was clearly uncomfortable – he didn’t know how to handle these sorts of things very well, and replied awkwardly.
“Uhh.” Very intelligent, wasn’t it? Settai rubbed at his forehead, then cleared his throat. “It never seems like that,” he said finally, fidgeting with his hands helplessly. “But you know the great thing?” He looked over at Stevin, attempting to give him a reassuring smile. “Everyone here, they went down fighting. Not always, um, tangible foes, but… But they were fighting something.” Settai wasn’t quite sure why that gave him comfort – the words seemed to come, unbidden. But he continued on quietly.
“And they’ve all done their duty,” he said tentatively, surprised when Stevin interrupted.
“I’m sick of duty,” he snapped helplessly. “It’s never done anyone good – that’s how Michelle died, how Michael died.” He gave a sort of strangled sob that managed to force its way through his repression, tears streaking his face. He roughly brushed at them. “I-It’s how my sister died.”
Settai sarted to say something, stopped, then scowled and tried again.
“Stevin, duty isn’t just taking orders,” he said after a moment. There were too many people who thought that, Settai realized. He tried to find the right words as he continued, fidgeting and rubbing his hand through his hair. “It’s, um… It’s hard to explain, s’what it is.” He gave a weak chuckle, aware of Stevin’s gloom beside him. “It’s when you do what’s right without thinking about yourself. Um. Sometimes, duty goes against your orders.” Settai looked at his hands mutely, then began idly massaging his shoulder, which was almost healed but still sore.
“To be honest,” he said slowly, “I shouldn’t’ve taken us out on that fool’s errand of the king’s. That was just taking orders. It was our duty to protect Zain. We would have done better stayin’ here.” He shifted so that one forearm was resting on an upraised knee, his other hand supporting him against glass slick and cold from the fog. “No one would’ve died then.” He gave a shrug, then fell silent, looking at the tombstone in front of him.
Stevin remained silent through his rough speech, and Settai began to wonder if he had said anything right at all. Probably not.
Without a word, Stevin stood up, his hand on his sword hilt. He was still silent when he turned away from Settai and began to walk towards the late Lady Shiana’s castle. Settai was quiet as he looked after him.
He hadn’t been crying any more.