Nina caught few glances when she was walking through the market square of the village. Weaving through the villagers wandering from vendor to vendor, from stand to stand, she was like any other. She made sure of it. She had her red hair down in frizzy locks, with only the back braided to make her look like one of the migrants instead of one of those who lived in the lake castle, and a dress that was a long sleeved plain gray linen one with a band to hug her waist just above the hips. She smiled at a few of the youthful migrants. She winked at a gypsy or two. But it was when she was wandering through the streets leading to the shanties that eyes began to follow her, when her ears became alert.
She made note of the easterners who had their makeshift houses clustered together at the edge that was closest to the woods on the Abbey side. Most of the villagers, and even the migrants who had come from the north and west, had built theirs on the opposite side of the road. But the easterners, specifically the ones who spoke mostly in their own tongues instead of the common tongue of Talkro, had built their own little community expanding toward it.
Nina stopped at a house that had been built recently to be wide instead of tall and had a picket fence barely higher than her knees surrounding its front area as if it were its own little courtyard. There were several children inside the open front door, sitting cross legged in front of a woman who wore a head scarf and was speaking to them in their foreign tongue from a thin book in her lap. The woman gave Nina an odd look and shut the door.
That was when Nina noticed that she was being watched closer than she had realized before. Not by those who were sitting on their wooden chairs outside the little shacks or the newly built houses spliced by the muddy road between them, nor the women and their children helping them with chores while their husbands were away. Windows had raggedy curtains pulled slightly aside. Boards in window openings were shadowed by an onlooker. And as Nina ventured further into their little community, where the shanties, shacks, and shoddily built houses that leaned to one side and were splattered with mud and grime, often with pigs or sheep or goats tethered to them, she knew she was being followed.
They had built their homes to form their own little town square. Had she known, she would have gone another way, turned down a different pathway—or what would be the new streets or alleyways of Talkro—instead of walking right into an open area surrounded by people who stopped whatever they were doing to watch her. Heads lifted from scrubbing pots or laundry in wide half-barrels of murky water. Mothers patted their small children to go back into their homes while they stood in the doorway with brooms in hand as if they were spears. Elderly stood from their chairs and leaned on their backs to regard her.
Nina felt a chill crawl up her spine and stilled herself beneath their gazes. She steadied herself as she continued into their little square, allowing their heads to follow her as she crossed to the other side.
She stopped in front of the only elderly man who didn’t rise from his chair at the sight of her. He seemed to watch her with more intensity in his stare. It wasn’t inviting, but it wasn’t threatening either. He had a weathered, leathery complexion pocked with brown spots and white beard that fell across his lap. His hair was cropped and peppered with strands of black. His dark eyes regarded her with curiosity once she drew closer.
“You speak my language?” She asked him. He nodded at her. “Why do they stare?”
“You stare,” the man answered with an accent thick and rumbling, his voice gruff and hardened. “Like wolf hunting for meat.”
Nina smiled at that. “I meant no insult by it. I just didn’t expect to see what your people had built here.”
The old man regarded her for a moment. “You expect something, shewolf?”
“Yes,” Nina nodded, the smile faded. She nodded toward the movement of a shadow near one of the shoddy houses without looking away from the man’s dark eyes, “Like your hounds to stop following me.”
“They smell hunter in you,” The old man smiled knowingly, revealing rotted and crooked teeth with several missing in between. He wagged two fingers without raising his hand.
Nina only had to turn her eyes to see the handful of men with clubs and handaxes stepping from between houses and shanties into the square. It was the cue for the women to usher their children inside, clearing their little square. She narrowed her gaze when it returned to the old man’s weathered face. He was studying her with a grin.
“What meat are you hunting for, shewolf?” He asked.
Nina straightened. “I was just curious, papa bear.”
He chuckled. “I’m no bear. You want husband? We have plenty but they are poor in coin. You want children? We have orphans but I see no man on your arm. You want something else, I see. What do you want, shewolf?”
“Why aren’t you teaching your people the language of this land? Of your King?” Nina looked about her. The square was near empty but for her and the old man. “And why are you building this as if it were your own separate village?”
“We do speak the language of our King and teach it to our children,” His face challenged her. “I wonder if you know who your king is.”
“Dietrich Luminis of the Seven-Pointed Star, the High King of Alcalia,” Nina met that challenge.
“We know him as Draka the Rosethorn,” the old man leaned back in his rickety chair to look her over. “And we build as we build because your people see what they want to see. We see what is.”
Rosethorn? Where did that come from? Nina crinkled her brow. “That’s your name for when he was on his crusade in the east, I gather.”
The old man nodded.
“What is that your people see, then?”
He looked as if he were thinking for a moment, “You smell meat where there is none for you.”
Nina leaned toward him, “Is Draka your king?”
“More than he is yours.”
“Then that meat is for me. What are you not telling me that he needs to know?”
His dark eyes narrowed. “I told you there is no meat here. Go hunt elsewhere.”
“What do your people see that mine don’t? Tell me and I will go.”
He drew in a deep breath. “Without point, a spear is only a stick. If not sharp, a sword is just metal. If eyes don’t see, they are just flesh.”
Nina rolled her eyes and straightened. “So, we’re not ready. For what?”
That made the old man smile as if he were expecting a completely different, lesser reaction. “Them. We see them come.”
“Who?” Nina loomed over him. “And be plain about it.”
“Enemies we know well,” the old man flicked his bushy white brows at her, “But you not know. Not yet. Now, find your meat elsewhere, shewolf. We have no meat for you. Ours for them.”
“And what will you do when they come for your meat?” Nina asked with a scoff. She wasn’t taking to being compared to a wolf. It was too close to being called a dog. At least Adrian called her a spider. He also noted her long legs, which was also nice. But this old man was making her bite her lip every time he said ‘shewolf’ like it was a slap to her face.
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It was the way the old man regarded her, not with a smile, but with a sobering shake of his head, that made her swallow dryly. He said, “They’re already here.”
Nina blinked at him for a moment. “Who?”
He only waved a hand at her and lifted himself from his rickety chair without another word. He went into the house and shut the door behind him, leaving her there, alone in the tiny village square that was now desolate but for the echoes of the bustling from beyond it.
Nina hesitated. She blinked, staring at that door he shut behind him, trying to collect her thoughts. Her suspicions were confirmed in the worst way possible. With a steadying breath to calm the rapid beat of her nervousness, she made her way back to the main road where villagers were gathering to wave and cheer Maud, who was leading a long procession of wagons, carriages, and knights. All she could think of, even as she found herself noting the faces of the few who had removed their steel helmets—especially the brown haired, olive skinned beauty riding beside her in plate armor that was as decorative as it was battle ready—was who he could possibly have been talking about. Celestes? Pagans? Spies from other kingdoms in Christendom? Or perhaps this army and the girl that seemed to be having a friendly and humorous conversation with Maud as they passed her?
Nina bowed her head to them before fading back into the crowd and into one of the makeshift alleyways to head back to the castle. She needed to establish a network of spies here. Somehow. But how? She knew how to gain contacts in a city. Townships were more difficult. But a village? That was trickiest of all. And in Talkro, she already knew there were factions—deep seeded and generational—within the little community that made her chances nearly impossible. Everyone was suspicious of each other without the migrants and the easterners. And now, she knew they, too, were a faction all their own. At least they seemed loyal to the king. That was reassuring. To a point.
As she reached the bridge into the castle, Nina mulled over what he said. Enemies the easterners know well. Enemies that are here. She watched the approaching procession with an eye at the flags. Anatolia with the crest of Al’Constantine. Not the east, but the southern empire that they would likely have never faced or met. Not enemies, but allies.
Not them, Nina crinkled her brow. And not the Abbey. Draka the Rosethorn. Why ‘the Rosethorn’? She wondered where he got that title as she sank into the shadows of the bailey. It wasn’t until she was nearly to her room above the general store that Nina realized with a gasp. There was only one enemy that the easterners faced by the King’s side, only one that might have found their way here without anyone knowing, who could keep themselves hidden without even trying. Only one enemy who wouldn’t be found until the moment they wanted to be.
Nina tossed her dress on the bed after writing a note in Latin, but backwards and reversed every other word. Now in her thick leather outfit that she tucked the note into, belted with her swords and knives, a crossbow on her back, she rushed across the bailey, calling to the Cleric Quartermaster, “I have to ride post to the King immediately. Which horse will let me ride it?”
“The far right one, my Lady.”
“Inform Paladin Commander that she needs to prepare the village for siege but only let known and vetted villagers inside the castle walls,” Nina said as he directed the stablehands to saddle her horse. “Keep the Regent, Princess, and all Royal parties inside the castle walls until you receive orders from the commander, you understand? And double their guards, triple it if you can.”
“Yes, my Lady,” he said as Nina climbed onto the saddle.
“Give this to Paladin Enya yourself,” Nina handed him the note she had written. “Do not waste time. Go, now!”
Nina kicked her horse into a gallop out the gate and across the bridge. She didn’t slow her gallop when she met the procession or heard Maud’s shouts for her. Heads whipped to follow her. Villagers that lined the side of the road shifted backwards to make way. It was Aurie who moved her horse in her way that made her pull to a stop.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“Get to the castle, keep the Princess close and surround yourself only with Holy Sepulcher Clerics and Enya’s best. Enya, too, once she gets there,” Nina said, ignoring the noblewoman who was eyeing her. “I’m going to fetch the King and his ward and get them back where we can protect them better.”
“What is going on?” the noblewoman asked.
Nina leaned to Aurie’s ear, “The Enemy is here. Only keep around you who you know you can trust. And I mean know, Aurie. You’re all in danger. Especially the King.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” Aurie turned her horse. Over her shoulder, she called, “Dimitriy, inform Olaf that he is to escort Maud and the Taggertys into the castle and protect them with his life.”
“No offense,” Nina shook at her, “But you are useless. I’ve barely taught you how to use a sword and you’re unarmed. If we’re attacked…”
“Give me your sword,” Aurie held out a hand, which Dimitriy placed his shorter sword in. She slid it into her belt with a cocked brow at Nina. Then to the other knight with her, “You’ll come with us.”
“Really?” Nina huffed.
“You should stay with us, Dowager Regent,” the noblewoman said with a calmness that made Nina crinkle her brow at her. “This is what soldiers are for.”
“Not when it comes to Draka,” Aurie gripped her horse’s reins. She shrugged at Nina expectantly, “Well? Lead on if you know where to find him.”
Nina drew in a breath. She said to Dimitriy, “Cleric, you were in the eastern campaign with the King, yes?”
“Yes,” his accent was thicker than the old man’s.
“Why was he called the Rosethorn?”
“Rosethorn?” Aurie blinked at her.
Dimitriy tipped his head at her, “He was only called that in one place. Where did you hear this name?”
“Migrants here call him that. Where does it come from?” Nina was breathily growing impatient.
“Draka wrapped his arm with the vine of a thorned rose bush from his sister’s garden and did not take it off until he killed the Paladin who ordered her murder and carried his severed head into battle against his brother at Khiev.”
Aurie and the noblewoman gasped. Even Nina’s eyes widened at that.
“Their heads were stacked together on the pike with their banner we left on a hill of their cohort’s corpses before we marched on to Riga. They were the only ones we did not bury because of the blasphemous acts they committed in God’s name. They would curse the ground they lay in and spread corruption.”
“Who’s banner?” Aurie’s pale skin had grown a sickly green.
Nina already knew who. Everyone within the Church and Paladinate knew precisely what banner he was speaking of.
“The Order of Saint Olga,” Dimitriy said and spat to the side of his horse. “Only the people who joined us from his sister’s village call him that.”
“They’re here, then,” Nina said, swallowing down the churning in her stomach at the thought of Draka doing something so savage. “That area of the village, there, must be from that village because that is what they call him. ‘Draka the Rosethorn.’ And they said that they are loyal to him and that their enemies are already here, so be on your toes and protect the royal families.” She turned to Aurie, “And you go with him.”
“I’m going with you,” Aurie looked on the verge of vomiting, yet undeterred. “Lead the way.”
“I haven’t time for this!” Nina growled.
“I go with as well,” Dimitriy waved to the two knights who were already guarding Aurie. They turned their horses out of the procession. “We go.” He said a rattle of his native tongue to another knight with his Order’s colors on his armor and the knight nodded before spurring his horse forward down the procession.
“Fine,” Nina let out a long sigh. “Let’s go!”
“You really should stay!” The noblewoman called as the five took off in the opposite direction. The last thing she heard was the noblewoman shouting, “Give Draka my love when you see him. I’ll be waiting.”
“Was that…?” Nina said over the rushing hooves of their horses.
“Queen Isabella,” Aurie called in answer.
“Good,” Nina breathed a slight sigh of relief. That meant that the Holy Sepulcher was now in Talkro with numbers on their side. “Am I right? Should we be worried?” She called to Dimitriy over her shoulder.
“Very,” was all he said as he made his two knights bring out their bows.
