Apparently I did because despite everyone sleeping soundly, I was wracked with nightmares. Envy’s eyes staring from beyond death. I woke in a panic, heart stuttering in fear. Some air might help or moonlight, anything to not think. A slender breeze blew through the grass. Once I swung the barn door open, stars began to shine through the night sky. The moon was slim in the sky adding to my unease. Kes’s voice called out from the roof of the house.

“Come over here, you sleepless fool. Scorpions like the nighttime for hunting and you aren’t watching where your feet are going.”

A ladder sat against the wall and minding her advice, I gingerly made my way over. Once up on the roof she motioned for me to sit next to her.

“I understand all too well, losing sleep to the past. Not really a surprise that you’re up.”

I was puzzled. For all she knew I was a normal caravan guard. When I broached that point she guffawed.

“Oh please, spare me the lies. I may live out in the plains but I’m not so disconnected. Only one group I know of with a winged boy. Plus I used to live in Fociscorde, so everyone watches your procession head to the palace on the evening of the  Favilla festival.”

That was the first I heard of it, but then again it's not like I could see crowds anymore that I could see the palace. Still it was disconcerting that she let us stay, knowing full well what we did.

“Aren’t you missing a couple people though? The man is Gluttony right? The girl would be Envy I guess?That leaves Greed and Sloth no?

In a flat tone barely containing my desire to not answer at all I responded “Gluttony, Envy and Greed are dead. Sloth is asleep like always.”

She sat in silence for a moment before softly speaking.

“I’m sorry. Were you close with them?”

A image of Greed plunging her knife into Envy sped through my mind.

“Close enough”.

She seemed more withdrawn than earlier, pensievely quiet.

“I know how you feel. Loss stings most at night. I hate when the day is finally finished, cause once things stop, my thoughts pick up the slack. I used to be a blacksmith you know. When I was young and fresh into the world. Damn good too. Till good fortune took its toll.

It didn’t feel like she was talking to me, rather to the wind and the swishing grass.Still I didn’t feel like sleeping and her story seemed interesting enough.

 “Why did you stop?”

“Well if you know anything about blacksmithing in the empire, they’re all men. All of them. I learned over here from a Sicarian smith. When I tried selling my steel in Fociscorde, I was laughed at. Up until I met my husband. He was a friendly dock worker who saw me in the  streets.Kindest man that ever lived. He offered to help. If he pretended to forge then people would buy the “man made” weaponry. It worked perfectly and we married happily as the best smithy in town. My blades have a special technique worked into them. I call it ocean steel because of the waves in the metal. Yet jealous are those that are without. The blacksmiths displeased at the quick rise of the forge, burned it down. My husband was sleeping inside. So I smith no more, the memory painful. I left quick and came here, where all misfits and tortured souls finally find peace. The plains are called that you know. Plains of the morning sun. New hope rides over the plains to those who need it. I needed it. He’s been gone for years now but my beasties remind me of him. He loved dogs. Even the curs on the street. Oh but you need not listen to an old woman bellyache about the past. You have your own sins to bear I’m sure.”

I sat in silence, heart torn in an odd feeling. It was comforting in a way to hear that all misery wasn’t mine. She lost her old life yet still seemed sane and even a little happy. The words out of my mouth were uttered by a childish me, a request I used to make of my mother.

“Can you tell me a story?”

She jolted a little, surprised to hear my voice, much less the odd request.

I stuttered out “If that's okay with you.”

She brightened a little. “Of course I can. I started to think you were a mute. I imagined telling my kids stories. The dogs aren’t as good of listeners. Let’s see…. What about Pelorus? Ever heard of him?

I shook my head, growing more embarrassed by the moment.

She clapped her hands. “Perfect. This story begins 80 years ago or so the legend goes. A child is born under the star of Pelorus the sea beast and so he was named. He grew a forceful child always spoiling for trouble. He was of the Altai and so roamed on horseback getting into little mischief. He grew up as a trickster and a master of snares. So far everything remained peaceful and ordinary until……”

She drew out the pause, grin flashing on her face as she became engrossed in the story.

“The empire’s invasion into the Kephrii plains. It started with roads being built and gorges being bridged. Then came flags and envoy’s claiming the land. The Altai don’t hold land really so it meant nothing to them. It was when they began burning “heathens” that bloodshed started. The Altai were rarely caught, but the well temples and the monks of the Dianthus that stayed there could not escape the fires of the Levi Custos and the Solens. Altai needed the well temples to survive the wildfire of the summers. Trapped by the encroaching armies, battles erupted with most Altai men dying. Pelorus’s father fell to blades and his head was sent to the fleeing remnants. Something broke in that child. He left his family and rode towards the army. He slipped into camp and began to sabotage things. A kitchen pot overturned. A knife missing. Small. Then much bigger. He kidnapped a mage.”

She waited a second, gauging my reaction.

“Not impressed?”

I smirked a little.

“Mages are pretty weak compared to death eyes”

She thought for a second, grey hair picked up by the wind. She pushed it out of her face and continued.

“Fair enough. Pelorus was bright and cunning. He smuggled him and his captive to an old well temple. There he forced the secrets of magecraft from the mage, through toture. In the process he also learned imperial. He then slit the throat of the mage and rode off to wreck havoc.”

I had a vivid image of Envy flash through my mind. They would have approved.

“He started by planting those trees along the road after getting the seeds from another temple. Pitfalls, collapsing bridges and lighting fires. He became a shadowy monster of the empire. The emperor Ignis the second declared a bounty for “Accursed Saboteurs”. Pelorus evaded the mercenaries and the hunters, once riding his pursuit into a raging wildfire leaving nothing but charred embers behind him.”

She glanced over at me and glared once she realized I wasn’t excited. Quite the opposite in fact as her voice was slowly causing my eyelids to creep shut. 

“As I was saying Pelorus,... damn it you made me lose my spot. Let’s see…. Okay. Pelorus had taken this in stride, continuing his spree of chaos. He famously collapsed the new spire of the Imperial torch of holy light. The Altai sang praises to his courage, yet it was not courage in him but madness. His mind felt only bloodthirst. There were those who followed him blindly down that path. The Empire’s advance stuttered and then halted as supply wagons were found increasingly burning on the side of the road. The church of Holy Light declared the plains to be a place of shadow and banned the faithful from living there. Even the Empire couldn’t hold a war without food. So Ignis left with his army, leaving only fortified towns to watch the boundaries of his kingdom.”

A strange pride took her voice, a fervent rise in her words.

“It wasn’t enough for Pelorus, he wished to repay the invader with his own medicine. The Altai wished for peace after years of fighting so his bloodlust fell upon deafened ears. So with what few supporters he had, he toiled. Building a weapon more powerful than ever seen. Sicarius the spider. A massive fortress that walked on hundreds of legs. At that point even his followers through years of labour lost faith in his war. So Pelorus was left alone in his walking castle powered by magecraft. He died there without ever touching a hair on the head of emperor. The castle still walks yet it has become a city for the living, after some people climbed its crumbling walls. No one is sure how it moves or why its route is always the same. You should see it someday. It’s truly a site for wonder, and craftsmen from all over seek to gain residence there for the quality of materials are unrivaled. I lived there once when I was young. Still it grows closer to the  time for the sun to rise. Sleep child even if only for an hour.”

Following her advice, I shuffled away, eyelids barely parted, not really caring whether scorpions were in my path. The hay felt soft and sleep felt heavy.