The tents had already sprung up like weeds, and they've finally surrounded the city.
Rolen did not sleep the entire night, knowing very well the armies south had just begun their march and have at most seven days to arrive. He would confer with me every night. Even now he ranted in front of me as I sat down, my chin resting on my hand as I struggled to stay awake.
"Impossible! My spies do not lie!" he exclaimed, pacing back and forth. "If the armies of the north really are marching..."
He did not have finish it. "They are," I replied, plucking a grape from the bowl and tossing it into my mouth. "You have no reason to worry, my friend. I have taken care of that for a long time now-"
"Taken care of it!? They are running straight to our doors! They can and they will arrive here before our forces do. We are trapped here, Loreys. This was never a good idea to begin with-"
"How many times do I have to say it?" I asked, my tone annoyed. "The problem is settled. We have nothing to worry for-"
"Why?" he asked, interrupting me. "Why must we not worry? What have you done?"
Careful, I wanted to say. Taunting me does not get you anywhere. "I've altered their choice, Rolen," I answered, my eyes staring deep into his own. "They go south, not east. Their forces may be large, but they forget to realize the parasites growing from their own garden."
"You mean to tell me that-"
"Yes, they are marching south to a useless campaign leaving their capital unguarded. Does that make you relieved now?"
Slowly, he sat down, intrigued at what I had just said. "Enlighten me, Loreys... Tell. Me. Everything."
"Perhaps I might," I replied, popping the cork from the bottle of wine as I poured myself a glass. "If you must know, I have... friends in the north, people who are determined to fulfill all my wishes at the snap of a finger..." I began, my finger tracing the rim of my cup.
"Turning their backs against their own king? Why?"
"They see us. They fear us. They follow us," I remarked, pointing to the city from the small window of the tent. "These are the very words that encompass this war, my friend. Now, men in the north are... more or less loyal to us just as they are to their kings... They fear."
For a moment, Rolen spoke no words.
"It is obvious you have brewed another scheme," he remarked, giving a light chuckle. "What is it that you have done, dear friend, that you declare they are weak and crumbling?"
A soft grin had appeared on my face as my lips curled into it. "Perhaps that is for another day. You need to rest-"
"No! Tell me what did you do!"
"Why should I?"
"I must know how you managed to accomplish such an impossible task-"
"Nothing is impossible, my friend," I replied, cutting him off. Slowly, I stood up from my chair, making my way to the bed, covered in golden wool. "Go out and sleep. You never know when they'll try and ambush our camps in the middle of nightfall."
"Loreys, I-"
"Enough I said," I snapped. "Close your eyes and let me sleep if you wish to stay up the entire night again."
He had no response. Quickly, he made his way out of the tent, making sure to bring with him a quill and three pieces of parchment. At last, I was left alone.
At the side of my bed laid a scroll of paper, two if you counted the other near it, but I focused on the one closest to me. I had read the letter before. I wanted to read it again to make sure I did not miss any details.
And so, I read, and the letter said:
My lord, I have done your biddings. It has arrived to my attention, however, that one member of the council has gotten wind of the plan. The Hand believes it is not fever, my lord, and he wishes to hire his own Ravenman for the king's well being.
Of course, my lord, it shall be done. Your grace has given in to the motion to march south with all his forces. As for the blame, that shall settle nicely on the shoulders of young Caean the Ravenman, who the council finds... unusually foul. He may well be the perfect bait for the catch.
As of now, the Hand of the King has ordered a new Ravenman to heal the king, but fret not, my lord. I have it all under my control. May the dog die by my hand, my lord.
The letter was not signed. It did not have to be. I knew who it was. Who else would it be rather than my dear friend in the capital? That shadow lurking within their own courtyards...
Indeed, the time had arrived for me to slumber, and to enter my realm of dreams and nightmares. If I had to choose, I'd pick the demon chasing me down my mother's old inn rather than sleeping on clouds as others put it. I have always been fond of evil. Why change now?
In a sedan chair filling with groans and illness...
"One more sip, your grace. There we go," Rudus said as he had the king consume his potion. The madman's cure he called it. Sure enough, the king's state had gone for the better.
I stood outside, arms crossed and worried sick for the monarch who now sat helpless on is chair. He can cure him, my mind reassured. He can and he will.
"How much more of that do you have?" the king asked, looking over behind him. "It tastes like... paradise in my mouth."
"Plenty for tomorrow, your grace," Rudus replied. "For now, rest is more important than the madman's cure. You shall have plenty tomorrow."
After the treatment, Rudus had finally left the presence of the king, taking the cup from where the king had drank from with him. And so it was, I was left with him, his eyes still staring blankly as he grasped his armrest.
"Tis' time for slumber, your grace," said I, covering the king with a wool blanket. To be quite honest, I felt like I was taking care of a sick child. What in the world has happened?
"You promise to let me drink more of your Ravenman's paradise potion and I'll sleep well any day!" he exclaimed, laughing slightly.
It was then that the guards had carried his chair once more.
He was so weak he could not ride his horse, and so he rests on his chair, carried by his loyal servants as they followed along the army as we marched on.
It was now nearing half a day since we left, and the men had finally begun to grow tired. Plenty of them no longer marched, instead trudging along the dirt and dragging their feet as the other pushed on.
The others sank in the snow as they often tripped and fell on their faces. The very few moved along nicely. It was time to settle for the night.
Not long after, Ser Merien had ordered the construction of a camp as fast as possible before any of the men froze to death that winter night.
The men gathered wood from dead trees nearby, making sure to take dry wood and not those littered with snow. Others took the cloth from the wagons to use for their tents while others cut down lumber to turn to pillars that supported their cloth roofs.
It was around an hour after the order that the tents were finally erected. Around five men or so had been found with their fingers numb, with around three more saying their hands had turned to ice, urging their fellow men to put their hands over fire to warm up.
We were nowhere near any healer, and certainly not anywhere near any other city. The nearest by far was Snow Town, but that was too far to travel to.
Ser Merien's bannermen had given us the idea to march south directly, past Hound's Wood and through the tunnels.
The Ravenman Caean had suggested otherwise, trying to press the motion of stopping by Snow Town, and if not the city, then perhaps at The Lily, the closest castle their was. Of course, nobody took the man seriously. A snivelling little gremlin such as him could never hope to get the respect of... anyone, really.
Then again, he is a scholar either way, and he did have some wisdom in him.
"My lord. May I speak with you only for a moment?"
Speak of thedevil, my mind began. The snarly voice was distinct. I did not have to turn to see who it was. I knew him. "What for?" I asked. "It's late and the others have gone asleep. Better get yours while you still can."
"I cannot, my lord," he replied, his tone slightly sorrowful. "I am concerned for our king's... displacement."
That caught me off guard. Why does he care?, my mind asked repeatedly. I was just as curious. "I am as well, just as much as you are," I told him. "What do you know of it, Caean?"
"Oh, well... I was fascinated by the symptoms and-"
"Since when were you interested in the art of medicine? I have never seen you open a single book of the sorts. Why do you care now?"
The Ravenman paused for a moment, thinking of an answer. "A-as the king's scholar and adviser, my duty is to aid the king when necessary-"
"In ruling his kingdom," I reminded him. "There are other scholars more capable of medicine and chemistry. You are not a major in any of those fields. You work in politics and gold-keeping. My Ravenman, Rudus, works in chemistry alone. I believe you see the logic here-"
"I have a suspicion, my lord," he interrupted. "I-I have a concern that I knew I could share with you. You are the best man I could find."
Suspicion? Is he seriously thinking what I am thinking?
"Suspicions..." I echoed. "What of the kind?"
He stepped closer to me, whispering in my ear. "The poisonous sorts," he answered.
My eyes widen as I realize we had the same thoughts. Although, I could not trust the grubby scholar. He was the first person on my list of suspicions. His very nature guaranteed that. "You let your imagination go too far, Caean," I insisted. "Nobody would ever-"
"I know you think of the same," said he. "Do you think I cannot see through your actions, my lord? You hire your own scholar to heal the king because you suspect the previous healer, did you? Why else would you go all the way to brew the madman's cure? Surely, you knew."
"You are too paranoid."
"Admitting, my lord?"
"Admit what? I have nothing to confess! None of the sorts!" I exclaimed as I turned away.
The scholar sighed in frustration. "I confer with you to aid you, my lord. We both think of the same matter. You know I have no experience in brewing concoctions and the such. You know I could not have poisoned the king, and I know you are too loyal."
"You're too observant."
"I am a scholar. To observe is second nature."
"What do you have, then? What theory have you formed?" I asked curiously. "You speak as if you know so much. Go, satisfy my curiosity."
The scholar gave none but a blank stare. "Glady," he replied.
"What caught my attention were the symptoms, see? They are far too similar to the effects of the madman's daisy. Of course, with a few flips of the pages, I found it just in time," he explained. "After living with my suspicions, I visited the king on one of his 'treatment nights,' as I so call them myself, and found nothing but a goblet with only a small amount of clear fluid.
"Of course, it could only have been one thing: The madman's poison," he answered. Slowly, he paced, trying to recount every detail he could. "After finding out the treachery, I decided to venture into a daring endeavor: A manhunt. Taking the form a somewhat investigator, I gathered every single hint to point at who had given the king the illness."
"And what did you find?" asked I.
"Nobody but the man whose hands got filthy, my lord," he answered. "Although, as to who gave the order, I believe I have no way of finding it out."
The revelation took me abruptly. He is the key, my mind began, the key to finding our culprit.
"Where is this man? I must inquire with him-"
"I think not, my lord," he interrupted.
"And why not?"
"I believe our little friend is... unable to do such a task. Perhaps you could say I could find no answer in his time of utmost predicament. Then again, he was a stubborn man," he replied, tracing his finger slowly across his throat.
"Why? Why did you kill someone so important to your cause? To our cause?" I asked loudly.
His finger gradually flew to his nose, telling me to lower my voice. "He had no answer. He was of no use, and so I did what I needed to do."
"I could've made him talk."
"No you couldn't, my lord. My men have removed his nails, tore out finger and cut off toes, even plucked out his hair ever so slowly so he could feel the pain... yet his said nothing," he explained, a sinister grin forming as he recalled every detail.
"You are mad."
"I am," he admitted. "But that does not sway the fact that I care for this kingdom's well-being just as I do mine. I do my best... for the people, not for the rich, and I believe our king needs to be alive for that."
"You're not wrong," I told him. "But how far have you gotten, really? Not that far it seems."
"It seems," he echoed. "In reality, I have sent out none but the wisest men covered by my own to investigate. My eyes are everywhere, my lord. Nobody can take a step without me seeing it," he explained.
Subsequently, the guard at the front of the tent peeked inside as if on cue, hearing Caean's words as if it were a signal. Eyes everywhere, eyes everywhere, eyes everywhere... my mind echoed. Surely, the man was taking it too far.
"Paranoid indeed?" I asked.
"Wise enough, yes," he replied, turning his back and making his way to the tent's exit. "A good chat that was, my lord. We shall continue it the next day when I have slept."
And so he bid me farewell, making his way to his own shelter to slumber peacefully.
I made my way to my own bed, fashioned out of sticks and bits of leaf. It was no luxury, but it was a bed.
Grasping the dried orange leaves that made up my mattress, I felt my eyes becoming heavier every second as I dived into the realm of dreams... mostly nightmares, but there were some pleasant parts my mind ventured into.
Whatever the scholar was up to, I could not fathom. Lying, scheming, or fighting, I did not care, as long as I knew what he was up to.
The terrifying part? He might even have the knowledge of what my dreams even are, for as he said: My eyes are everywhere...