Benjamin Ashwood (13 page)

The
massive ships in the bay began to look like small toys and the business of
daily life in a large city surrounded them.  The smells and sounds of the Port
faded away and the quality of the buildings and shops improved. 

The
lower tiers of the city were where the commercial business of the Port took
place along with warehouses, boarding houses and taverns for the sailors. 
Above that there were densely packed apartments and businesses like grocers and
general stores.  The higher they got, the buildings got wider and the type of
goods more diverse.  There were tailors, jewelers, armorers and others located
past the mid-point. 

Above
the specialized shops, many buildings were made of marble instead of limestone
and Ben caught glimpses of secluded gardens behind the tall walls and thick
gates.  Towards the top, the only word Ben could use to describe the buildings
was ‘palace’.  Large statue filled gardens behind the walls of each residence
became common place and the streets were nearly empty compared to below.  Many
of the people that were in the streets were armed guards patrolling or standing
watch.  Ben wondered if Argren’s rule in this city was as secure as Amelie made
it out to be.

By
the time the Funicular reached the highest point, Ben’s party were the only
remaining passengers.  At this stop the Citadel, King Argren’s seat of power,
was the only building.  As they exited, Ben gasped in awe at the massive,
intimidating structure.  He didn’t know what he expected, but this building was
a full storybook castle with soaring towers, hulking marble walls, battlements
crawling with crossbowmen and a massive double gate – the outer one thick iron
bound oak logs and the inner iron grate with bars as thick as one of Ben’s
legs.  They both rose at least 10 times higher than Ben’s head and it must take
several teams of oxen to open or close them.

The
defense seemed unnecessary.  Any force that was able to take the entire city up
to these gates was likely able to take the Citadel as well.  Even if they could
not, at that point the battle would have been lost.  These walls and gates were
made for a different purpose he suspected.  Intimidation.  Anyone who walked up
in front of this place couldn’t help but feel small and inconsequential. 
Whether or not Argren himself commissioned the fortress Ben did not know, but
he thought it spoke to the mindset of the rulers of this place.

Hanging
from the above the gates was a massive banner emblazoned with a royal blue
figure.  The banner gently flapped in the salty wind blowing off the Bay.

“King
Argren’s sigil?” asked Ben.

“I
believe that is the purported new banner for the Alliance,” replied Amelie with
a smirk.

“What
is that?  An elephant?  I’ve heard of them in the stories but have never seen
one.”

“No,
I think it’s supposed to be a charging mammoth – it’s like a big powerful
elephant that only lives far north of Northport.  It does look a little rotund
though, doesn’t it?”

Waiting
at the gates was a bald, bearded man wearing a plain bleached robe that nearly
blended in with the white marble walls.  As they approached he scampered
forward and bowed deeply to the ladies.

“Lady
Amelie, Lady Towaal, welcome to the Citadel.  I apologize for the informal
reception but I just got word of your arrival.”  He raised one eyebrow in
seeming rebuke that he was not notified in advance and glanced between the four
women before quickly deciding which were high born and focusing his attention
on them. 

“I
am King Argren’s Head of House.  You may call me Marrion.  Come, let me offer
you refreshments and show you to your rooms.  King Argren would be pleased if
you both are available for dinner this evening.  He has much to discuss with
you.”

The
man bowed and scraped for Amelie and Towaal but ignored the rest of the party. 
When they made their way through the gates and across the meticulously
landscaped courtyard, Marrion waved to another robed figure and purred,
“please, have your female servants come with us and Roland will take the
males.”

Meghan
adopted a baleful scowl after being referred to as a servant but Renfro grinned
at Ben, delighted at being there regardless of his status.  Ben had noticed
tension between Meghan and Amelie recently and felt that if the rest of the
Citadel had the same attitude as Marrion towards high born and common, he might
be better off staying well away from the women for the duration of their stay.

As
soon as Marrion and the Ladies were out of earshot, Meredith and Meghan
following closely behind, Rhys slapped Roland on the back and belted, “Roland
my man!  Marrion I’m sure did not have time to inform you that I am the head of
Lady Amelie’s household guard and I’m certain she’d be upset if I didn’t get
accommodations befitting my status.  I don’t want you to suffer if she were to
find me in some mean servant’s quarters.”

“None
of the guest quarters in the Citadel could be considered mean sir.  I am
confident you will be happy with the room you are given.”  Despite Roland’s
uptight demeanor, Ben could see he was a quick study and wasn’t going to fall
for Rhys’ deception.  As he lead them into the Citadel Ben caught Saala rolling
his eyes and giving Rhys a light shove.

The
rooms they were given were plain and simple but they were more comfortable than
any Ben had ever stayed in – including the inn in Fabrizo.  The beds were stout
and stuffed with fresh straw, there was a comfortable chair, facilities to
perform the necessaries, each man had his own room and they even had a sitting
room they shared.  To Rhys’ delight the sitting room was stocked with wine and
ale and they only had to call and a serving man appeared to fetch whatever they
needed from the kitchens.  Saala explained that the expectation for a Lord’s
travelling men was that they always be on hand when he needed something, so the
Citadel provided the servants everything they needed.  That way they could be
at their Lord’s beck and call.  Luckily for them, Amelie and Towaal were
unusually self-sufficient for high born.  And if they did need something, they
had Meredith with them.

Ben
quickly stowed his gear in his room, cleaned up and sat down in the common room
to wait.  He had nothing to do and it felt odd.  They had been travelling for
the last five weeks and had reached a major milestone in their journey.  While
some of their party was busy meeting with royalty, Ben was only there to wait. 

After
three weeks on the ship he was restless and ready to stretch his legs, but he
didn’t know where he could go.  If Roland was any example, the staff at the
Citadel would be frosty and unhelpful if he asked for directions.  Certainly
there were many interesting places in such a large building, but the Citadel
was completely outside his experience.

He
was saved from having decide what to do when Rhys and Renfro arrived.  Rhys, as
always, knew what to do.  “Saala went to meet up with some household guard he
knows working for one of the city Lords so we’re on our own.  What do you say
we go find out what there is to do around here?”

To
Ben’s surprise, Rhys did not immediately lead them out to the nearest
flophouse.  Instead, he led them on a tour of the Citadel.  When Ben asked how
he was so familiar with the fortress Rhys responded, “I passed through a couple
of years ago.  Also, all of these places are basically the same.  There are
areas where the actual work gets done and there are areas where the high born
play.  Same kind of work goes on in any castle and the high born do pretty much
the same thing too.  Once you’ve been in a few of them they all start to look
the same.”

It
may have been the same to Rhys but to Ben and Renfro the Citadel was amazing. 
The more they explored the bigger it seemed.  When they first arrived outside Ben
had thought it was at least as big as the village of Farview but once he walked
around inside he realized it was much larger than that.  The footprint was the
size of three or four Farviews and in some places it rose seven stories tall. 
They saw hundreds of people working and there must have been thousands more
they did not see.

Of
all of the people they saw, very few of them stopped the group and asked what
their business was.  While there were guards nearly everywhere, none of them
seemed to be guarding anything specific. 

Rhys
speculated, “Argren’s pumping up the payroll in preparation for war.  There’s
only so much drilling a man can take so he must be giving them breaks with
guard duty.  The actual guards, the one’s he trusts, will be close around his
personal quarters and the throne room.”

One
place they were questioned was the kitchens.  They stumbled across several
kitchens and every time they ducked their heads in one, an angry looking
aproned woman would come charging at them waving a spoon.  After the third
time, Ben asked Rhys and Renfro if they thought it was the same stressed out
cook following the same route they were or if they hired them all to look the
same.

“Maybe
sisters?” replied Renfro with a grin.

They
quickly learned that the kitchens in the Citadel were the gears that made the
place run and the stern women who ran them – sisters or not – booked no
foolishness or visitors.

The
most impressive for the two young men though was the armory.  Arms and armor of
nearly every description stretched down narrow corridors as far as they could
see.  Most of the weaponry was standard issue for the Citadel’s guards but they
also had a dazzling array of foreign weapons.  As they were marveling over a
rack of wicked looking exotic axes, a young plain looking man approached them
and asked, “anything I can help you with sirs?”

“Just
taking the boys to admire your stock,” Rhys responded.

“Finest
collection of arms anywhere on the Continent.  We’ve got weapons from places
you’ve never even heard of.  Master of Arms Brinn is a bit obsessed about it,
to be honest.  Anyone comes in here with a piece he hasn’t seen and he’ll buy
it right off ‘em.  You have the look of men at arms, here for the Conclave next
week?”

“No,
uh…” Ben wasn’t sure what to say.

Rhys
broke in, “yes, we’re arms men in the service of Lady Amelie.  We’re not here
for the, what did you call it, Conclave?  We’re just passing through.”

“Lady
Amelie,” the guard grinned, “word was she was at the Citadel, but I cannot
believe she isn’t here for the Conclave.  Argren called in all of his banner
men and they will be discussing the Grand Alliance.”

“I’m
not sure Lord Gregor of Issen considers himself a banner man.  We have been
travelling with Lady Amelie and I’m certain she did not know a Conclave had
been called.”  Rhys glanced at Ben.  “Crazy timing though, us happening along
right before that started.  Amelie didn’t know and neither did I, but maybe
someone else in our party heard about it.”

The
young guardsman seemed dismayed by the denial.  “Well, I’m sure Lord Gregor and
his daughter have a lot to think about.  While you’re here, would you care to
spar?”

Rhys
pushed Ben forward, “he would love to!”

As
Ben strapped on sparring pads it occurred to him that Assistant to the Master
of Arms was likely a pretty boring job.  Master Brinn oversaw the training of
new guardsmen and the supply of arms for the Citadel.  His young assistant’s
only responsibility seemed to be watching the storeroom and making sure no one
ran off with unassigned weaponry.

Ben
took a couple of practice swings with the blunt tourney sword and felt
comfortable with it.  While it didn’t move with the same speed as his actual
sword, the weight was similar.  The sparring pads constricted his movement a
little but he supposed it would be worth it when he was struck.  He had never
used them with Saala.  The Blademaster was skilled enough to not cause an
injury with his real blade and Ben was never in danger of actually striking
Saala.

The
young guardsman walked him out to the sparring grounds which were mostly empty
in the late evening twilight.  The grass was worn from countless feet scuffing
and sliding in combat.  There was a small group of green looking guards
training in a far corner but they had the rest of the field to themselves. 

Ben
and the young guard squared off and started to spar.  In no time at all it
became obvious that the guard was the more aggressive fighter.  He came after Ben
with a series of quick thrusts and short swings.  Ben was able to dance back
and avoid a hit and started to back around in a circle while the guard pursued.

The
guard was aggressive and he was clearly practiced but Ben was faster which
helped him avoid a big hit.  Still, the guard was able to get through Ben’s
defense several times in the first few minutes.  The strikes were glancing and
with the pads Ben barely felt them.  They would not leave the bruises and welts
he’d gotten from the flat of Saala’s sword.

After
several minutes of sparring, Ben noticed the guard maintained a consistent,
predictable pattern.  He moved through forms similar to what Saala had taught Ben
but unlike the guard, Saala’s forms shifted with the reaction of an opponent –
he called them ‘anticipatory forms’.  The guard did not seem to adjust once he
was set in a pattern.  Ben began predicting the next swing and found he was
quick enough to disrupt the pattern and was able to put up a real defense.