“Ouch!”

At least it’s not a dead body. “Sir Jacryn?”

“My apologies. I was stargazing and must have fallen asleep.” Sir Jacryn sits up and stretches.

“Wasn’t it raining?” Irenis looks up at the sky. “Whoa.”

The clouds have entirely cleared away, revealing a million stars. The moon is a thin sliver of light in the eastern part of the sky, doing nothing to obscure the light of the stars. Irenis sits down to stare at the sky. “It’s so pretty.”

“It really is.”

A streak of light shoots across the sky. Irenis points after it. “What was that?”

“Esteria’s carriage riding by! You can make a wish on it.”

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. But Irenis clasps her hands together and wishes anyway, I wish the Veriths won’t kill me on sight. I know I’m weak, but I want to live, too.

Sir Jacryn doesn’t mention his wish, but he looks wistful as he stares at the sky. Irenis doesn’t ask. She sits for a little longer, then goes to find the latrine and after returns to her tent.

—

The next morning is hot for the spring, misty, and sticky. Irenis puts her hair up even tighter so none of it stays on her neck. Sir Jacryn looks tired and slumps in his saddle, looking to be catching up on the sleep he missed last night while stargazing. One of the female knights, whose name Irenis needs to learn, leads his horse for him.

Irenis tries to start conversation with the knight next to her, a very unintimidating man, but her mouth stays shut against her will. What would she say? Would he even speak to her, or would he just snort and ride away as she talked? Or would he snap at her to be quiet? So after a bit she stops trying.

As the sun rises and the mist fades, they cross the boundary from the Casmenoc margravate to the Deluwen county. The Deluwens aren’t technically a prestigious family, but their lands produce most of the region’s grain, so they got a countship a few generations back and have kept their fields running smoothly since. The margravine Casmenoc and her sister-in-law have complained about having to give count’s honors to a mere baron, but they love fine bread and small beer, so they can’t complain too loudly.

They hit the township of Westran as the sun sets on their third day of travel and spend the night in an inn. It’s even comfier than Irenis’s closet. She sleeps like a log.

The King’s Road is the spine of the Itwellia Empire’s trade, so it’s ruthlessly maintained and carefully cobbled. Their journey along it is easy, even when the clouds open and rain comes pouring down once again. Irenis hunches up in her saddle to protect the pouch at her neck that holds her precious sword shards. Even the idiots are less boisterous in the rain, which Irenis is guiltily thankful for. There’s nothing wrong with being boisterous. They’re just so very annoying.

Their fifth day on the road sees them going through a small wood, a tiny merchant’s settlement, and crossing the Seventh Emperor’s Bridge that holds itself aloft with thousands of steel ropes. The bridge doesn’t even sway as hundreds of travelers cross. Irenis gapes at the great iron supports painted sunset-red that hold the ropes far above her head. It must be taller than even the Eastern Duke’s mansion, or the towers that the previous margrave Casmenoc had added.

Sir Jacryn smiles and agrees when Irenis taps his bracer to point this out.

They stop in the larger merchant town on the other end of the bridge to get hot food and more supplies for the road ahead. Irenis begs and pleads with their treasurer to get her some of that jerky, but she is ignored. It looked so good, and she mopes quietly to herself as they leave East Bridgend.

Their tenth day of travel sees them pass the Imperial Gates that lead to Gildemont, the imperial seat. The Gates are more a monument or waymarker than a defensive device, letting travelers know that this way is the way to the capital. As Gildemont is six days out of their way, the party is not going to stop in, so they ride past. Irenis admires the carving and polishing on the open gates and the patterning of the stones that form their arch.

The King’s Road is full of travelers. As the knights and Irenis ride past Precursor Ruins, a small river that burbles down into the ground, and a fishing town around a sparkling sapphire lake, travelers greet them with respect and other groups of knights ride past on their way to Gildemont or the ramparts. Most of the travelers are nice, but Irenis cannot enjoy their company.

On one occasion halfway through their journey, when Irenis can see a large group of travelers approaching and Sir Gurstel has been boasting all day and Lowegan is so loud and it’s hot and sticky because it rained last night and everything is a little bit damp—

Irenis gets fed up and turns Midge off to go look at more Precursor Ruins. Some of the knights yelp and Sir Jacryn takes off after her.

The shadows of the Ruins are cool and calm. Irenis dismounts to rest her forehead against one pillar and sighs in relief at the cold seeping into her skin.

“Irenis!” Sir Jacryn catches up with her. “Please let us know when you want to explore.”

“Yes, sir. I was just overwhelmed for a moment.”

“I understand. The idiots are quite annoying when they have admirers.”

“Lowegan is so loud.”

“He very much is. Truthfully, I should be thanking you for the break.”

Irenis giggles. Then she looks up at the ruins, which are covered in moss and dirt, but under that are strange symbols and writings. “What do you know about the Precursors, Sir Jacryn?” Irenis herself knows that the Precursors covered the entire continent, even past the Empire’s eastern border, and were all gone by the time the first Itwellian monarch united the continent. None of their paper writings survived.

“Not much, I’m afraid. There isn’t much about them in the Casmenoc library, nor the library in my hometown.” Sir Jacryn snorts to himself. “But then, the books back home were mostly trade manuals, histories as told by journalists, and one battered copy of a chivalry handbook which I must have read a hundred times.”

Irenis looks up at him. “Your town had a library?”

“It did!” Sir Jacryn dismounts, ties the horses up to a strange metal rod, and follows her as she wanders through the remains. “It’s quite unusual for a town that size—it’s only slightly larger than West Bridgend—but we were the first ones to be visited by the previous emperor’s scholars.”

“I remember a little about the literacy campaign? The margrave and his wife never approved of commoners learning the trades of the aristocratic classes, so I only know what I’ve heard them complain about.” Irenis looks at what might be a sundial, if the wedge had gone missing.

“That’s exactly how we got the library. I would say that it was a success. Almost half of my peers can read, and our children are almost all literate.”

“Why would the previous emperor want his commoners to read?” Irenis picks up a strange crystal that reflects pink onto one of the columns. She waves the light over the markings, but nothing happens.

“I think if that did anything, it would already have been discovered by the scholars who come out here.” Sir Jacryn stretches and starts to walk over to her. “The previous emperor, I think, believed that smarter commoners means commoner jobs are better done—whoa!” He trips over a rock and lands hard on his bag. Irenis hears something shatter. “Oh, no.”

His food is inedible now, because his shaving mirror has shattered and gotten glass shards all over it. Even Irenis was never forced to eat glass shards. She pats his shoulder awkwardly. “You can have some of my jerky.”

“No, there’s extra food.” Sir Jacryn repacks his bag. “I’m more disappointed about losing the mirror.” He runs a finger over his jaw, which will soon have stubble on it.

They rejoin the group after a little bit, and as they stop to camp that night, Irenis has an idea. They’re next to a small stream, so she pulls some water up out of it and uses magic to form a flat, shiny surface. “Sir Jacryn! I got you a mirror!”

The idiots immediately start making fun of them. Sir Jacryn hustles over and beams. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

Irenis beams back and holds the water up until Sir Jacryn is done shaving. Then she filters the impurities out using a spell and funnels the water into their canteens.

Sir Gurstel barks, “Oh, so you’re good for something after all!”

Irenis knew that. Grandmother wouldn’t have kept her around if she weren’t useful.

With this routine, their water doesn’t run out for the remaining month it takes them to reach the Verith stronghold.