Chapter 71
(The Home That Kept Moving)
The strange thing about someone leaving is that the place they leave behind does not stop with them.
I think some part of me expected it to.
Victor had gone.
Liora has changed.
The three of us were no longer spending our days moving from one ridiculous mission to another.
So, somewhere in my mind, Pylore should have remained exactly as it was until Victor returned.
It didn't.
At first, the changes were small enough that I ignored them.
A new training field was cleared near the southern boundary.
Merchants who once stopped in Pylore for a night began staying for three or four days because our roads were safer than those controlled by the surrounding lords.
Families from smaller settlements started sending their children to train with our clans.
For a while, that was all it was.
Then the word changed.
Expansion.
I heard it first inside the Keldor hall.
My own clan.
Several of the older members had gathered around the long central table. Maps covered most of its surface, marked with roads, settlements, water sources and boundaries that had never mattered much to us before.
One elder placed his finger over a village northeast of Pylore.
"We're already protecting them."
Another nodded.
"And they use our roads."
"They've also begun sending their young here for training."
A third man leaned forward.
"Then why should another lord collect tax from land we are effectively maintaining?"
I sat near the end of the table and listened.
Nobody had invited me because my opinion was particularly valuable.
I was there because I was a Keldor, because I had completed more missions than most people my age, and because after travelling with Victor and Liora for so long, people had started assuming that meant I understood politics.
It did not.
I understood beasts.
I understood tracks.
I understood how to tell whether someone holding a sword actually knew how to use it.
Politics mostly seemed to involve intelligent people finding increasingly complicated ways to describe wanting something.
One of the elders looked toward me.
"You've been quiet, Jake."
"I've been listening."
"And?"
I looked down at the map.
Three nearby settlements had been circled.
"We protect them because they need protection."
"Yes."
"They trade here because our market is safe."
"Yes."
"They send people here because our training is better."
The elder nodded impatiently.
"All of which is exactly why Pylore should formalize its authority."
I looked up.
"You mean rule them."
A few expressions changed.
Nobody liked that word.
"Authority is not necessarily rule."
"If they have to obey us, it's rule."
"We would provide stability."
"We already provide stability."
"And receive almost nothing in return."
There it was.
I leaned back in my chair.
"So that's the problem?"
The elder frowned.
"What?"
"We helped them for years. Now we've realized we could have been charging them for it."
"That is an immature interpretation."
"Probably."
I looked at the circles again.
"Still sounds accurate."
He didn't ask for my opinion after that.
The discussion continued without me.
Trade rights.
Patrol obligations.
Training agreements.
Storage access.
Agricultural contribution.
Nobody suggested marching soldiers into those villages and planting the Keldor banner in the center.
It was subtler.
They spoke about agreements.
Protection.
Representation.
Mutual obligation.
Every individual piece sounded reasonable.
Together, they looked a lot like a border beginning to move.
The Keldors weren't the only ones thinking that way.
The Arans had always carried influence because of Dominus, but after his death, several among them became even more determined to preserve what he had built.
The Voran extended their work to settlements beyond Pylore.
The Sanguis wanted formal control of several hunting regions that had previously been shared freely.
Every clan had a reason.
Good reasons, mostly.
That was what made it difficult to argue against.
Pylore was strong.
The lands around us were becoming less stable.
People wanted protection.
We could provide it.
And somewhere inside that perfectly reasonable chain of thought, helping people began turning into owning responsibility for them.
Maybe that was inevitable.
I don't know.
I didn't know then either.
What I did know was that the village was getting busier.
And somehow, I was getting quieter.
Liora was still there.
I should say that clearly.
She hadn't disappeared.
We hadn't fought.
Nothing had happened between us.
That almost made it worse.
Before Victor left, I never thought about arranging time to see Liora.
She was simply there.
If I went to train, there was a good chance she would appear eventually.
If Victor accepted a mission without asking either of us, which happened often, one of us would go find the other.
If I was eating, they would steal something from my plate and then insist it had never belonged to me.
We never planned to be friends.
We just spent so much time together that being apart required more effort.
Then Victor left.
Dominus died.
Responsibilities divided us more effectively than any argument could have.
Liora became increasingly involved with the Voran.
She was no longer just accompanying missions.
People came to her.
Families asked for her guidance.
Younger members followed her through the village carrying papers, supplies, ritual materials and questions I could barely understand.
Sometimes I saw her across the market.
Sometimes near the training grounds.
Sometimes we managed a few minutes.
"Still alive?" she asked me once as we crossed near the western well.
"Unfortunately."
"That's disappointing."
"I'll try harder next week."
She smiled.
For half a second, there she was.
The Liora I remembered travelling with.
Then a young Voran girl hurried toward us.
"Lady Liora, Elder Sera asked if you could come to the eastern hall."
Liora closed her eyes.
"Of course she did."
The girl looked worried.
"I can tell her you're busy."
Liora glanced at me.
I almost said yes.
Tell her that.
Tell everyone that.
We haven't spoken properly in six days.
Instead I shrugged.
"Go."
"You sure?"
"It's fine."
She hesitated.
"We'll eat tonight."
"Yeah."
"Actually eat. Not say we're going to and then forget."
"I don't forget."
"You forgot twice."
"You changed the time once."
"That still leaves one."
"Go, Liora."
She smiled again.
Then followed the girl.
We didn't eat together that night.
I don't even remember which of us became busy.
That happened a lot.
At the time, I didn't call it loneliness.
Lonely people were alone.
I wasn't.
Pylore had hundreds of people.
My clan surrounded me.
Someone was always asking me to train, patrol, inspect tracks or attend a meeting I didn't want to attend.
I could walk twenty steps from my house and find someone who knew my name.
So I wasn't alone.
That was my reasoning.
It wasn't very good reasoning.
But it kept me from asking what I was actually feeling.
Victor, meanwhile, seemed determined to make sure we heard about him without actually coming home.
The first report arrived through merchants.
A swordsman from Pylore had helped the king of Asterfall secure a western passage.
Then came another.
Victor had fought in a border confrontation.
Then another.
A fortified road had been taken.
Then another.
A regional commander had surrendered after his forces were separated without being annihilated.
That one caught my attention.
Not because of the victory.
Because according to the merchant telling the story, Victor had argued against pursuing the retreating soldiers.
I laughed when I heard that.
The merchant looked at me strangely.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You know him?"
"Unfortunately."
He stared.
I shook my head.
"Victor used to chase anything that ran away from him. Beast, criminal, runaway horse. Once he followed a thief halfway down a mountain because the man insulted his hair."
The merchant looked uncertain whether I was joking.
I wasn't.
Mostly.
Stories continued coming.
Some contradicted each other.
Some were obviously exaggerated.
In one, Victor destroyed an entire cavalry line by himself.
In another, the Sun Sword burned so brightly that soldiers several miles away mistook dawn for arriving early.
That one was definitely nonsense.
Probably.
But underneath the exaggeration, something real was happening.
Victor was becoming known.
Not as Dominus's son.
Not simply as an Aran.
As Victor.
The young swordsman beside the king.
The man carrying the strange blade.
The fighter who appeared at battles that should have taken days and ended them before sunset.
His name spread along the same roads that war was destroying.
And every time it came back to Pylore, people stood a little straighter.
He was ours.
That was how they spoke about him.
Our Victor.
Our Aran.
Pylore's swordsman.
It was strange hearing people claim someone they hadn't seen in months.
Then one afternoon, the clan bells rang.
Not an alarm.
A gathering.
Representatives from all four clans filled the central grounds.
I arrived late enough that most of the speeches had already started, which I considered excellent timing.
Liora found me near the back.
"You're late."
"I came as quickly as I felt necessary."
"You were sleeping."
"I was preparing mentally."
"You have grass in your hair."
"That proves nothing."
She reached over and pulled a small piece from beside my ear.
I took it from her.
"Evidence tampering."
"Be quiet."
The elder at the front raised his voice.
I stopped joking.
A letter had arrived.
Officially sealed.
The king's forces had won another major engagement.
Several territories had accepted his authority.
And among those recognized for their role in the campaign was a name everyone in Pylore knew.
Victor Aran.
Except that wasn't the name written in the letter.
Victor P Aran.
The crowd reacted before the elder even finished reading.
I didn't.
For several seconds, I only stared at the front.
P.
Pylore.
It was not something given because of blood.
Victor had been born Aran.
But P was different.
It had to be earned.
Dominus had carried it.
Lilandra had carried it.
People whose actions had become inseparable from Pylore itself carried that letter with their names.
And now Victor had it.
Liora looked at me.
"He did it."
"Yeah."
"You don't sound surprised."
"I am."
"You don't look surprised either."
I thought about it.
Then shook my head.
"I guess I've been hearing his name so much that I forgot he was still becoming something."
Liora's expression softened.
"He would hate this ceremony."
That made me laugh.
"He'd already be gone."
"Before the second speech."
"First."
"He respected some elders."
"Not enough to survive the first speech."
For the first time in weeks, we laughed together without anyone interrupting.
Around us, people celebrated.
The Arans were loudest.
Even the Keldors joined them.
Victor P Aran.
It sounded strange.
Too formal.
Too distant from the idiot who once tried to prove he could jump from the western watchtower into a hay cart and missed the cart.
But I was proud of him.
There was no confusion about that.
Whatever else I felt, pride was there.
I only wished he had been standing beside us when he earned it.
Months passed.
Pylore changed faster.
The outer patrol line expanded.
Warehouses grew.
More weapons were stored near the clan halls.
Travelers arrived carrying worse news.
The king's campaign was no longer simply a string of victories.
It had become a war large enough that nobody could pretend their own land existed separately from it.
Kingdoms that feared being absorbed began forming alliances.
Old enemies temporarily became friends because they hated the idea of one ruler more than they hated each other.
Armies moved.
Trade routes closed.
Food prices rose.
Refugees began appearing on roads that had once carried merchants.
Pylore's elders responded by strengthening our borders.
The same expansion some had discussed as opportunity now became necessity.
Settlements around us asked for permanent protection.
This time nobody argued over whether that meant authority.
They were afraid.
So were we.
Nobody said it.
But fear changes the way people build walls.
Training became mandatory for more villagers.
Children were moved away from the outer districts.
The Sanguis increased hunting so preserved meat could be stored.
The Voran prepared shelters and medical halls.
The Arans organized defensive units.
The Keldors reinforced roads, traps and approach routes.
And I stopped attending meetings only when I realized people would simply come find me afterward.
Liora and I saw each other more again.
Not because life had become easier.
Because preparation kept putting us in the same places.
One evening we stood on the northern wall watching carts enter Pylore.
Families sat inside them.
Not merchants.
Everything they owned had been tied to the sides.
A mattress.
Cooking pots.
A broken chair.
Three sacks of grain.
One woman carried a sleeping child while staring at the road behind them as if she expected their home to appear there.
Liora rested her arms against the stone.
"They're from Bellan."
I knew the settlement.
Three days northeast.
"What happened?"
"Two armies crossed near them. Neither attacked the village directly."
I looked at the carts.
"They don't look unharmed."
"The soldiers took their stored food. Then another force came two days later and took what remained."
I watched a boy jump from the back of a cart.
He couldn't have been older than ten.
He was carrying a wooden practice sword.
"Where are they going?"
"We're taking them in."
"All of them?"
"For now."
I nodded.
Liora looked toward me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You've been saying that a lot lately."
I kept watching the refugees.
"What am I supposed to say?"
"I don't know."
"Then we're equally prepared."
She didn't smile.
Neither did I.
After a while she said, "Have you heard from Victor?"
"No."
"Neither have I."
There had been reports.
Plenty of them.
But reports weren't letters.
Victor's name travelled everywhere.
Victor himself felt farther away than ever.
"He'll be fine," Liora said.
"I know."
"You answered quickly."
"He's Victor."
"That doesn't make him immortal."
"I know."
She was quiet.
Then she asked, "Do you miss him?"
I looked at her.
It was such a simple question that I almost laughed.
Instead, nothing came out.
I looked toward the road again.
"I don't know."
Liora frowned slightly.
"How can you not know?"
"Because I don't know what I'm missing."
She waited.
I tried to explain it properly.
"Victor, obviously. But it's not just him."
My hands rested against the cold stone.
"When he was here, you were here too. We had missions. We left, came back, argued, trained, ate. Everything fit somewhere."
I glanced behind us at Pylore.
New walls.
New storage buildings.
Patrols moving through roads that used to be empty at night.
"Now everything is still here, but it doesn't feel like the same place."
Liora didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, "Maybe it isn't."
That bothered me more than I expected.
Before I could reply, a horn sounded from the eastern tower.
One call.
Then another.
Not the pattern for returning patrols.
Not a merchant convoy.
Three short blasts followed.
Liora straightened.
Every guard on the wall moved at once.
A rider appeared on the eastern road.
His horse was running badly.
Foam covered its mouth.
The rider himself leaned forward as if staying conscious required effort.
The gate opened just enough to let him through.
By the time Liora and I reached the courtyard below, people were already gathering.
The rider fell from the saddle.
Two guards caught him.
Blood covered one side of his clothes.
An elder pushed through the crowd.
"Where is your unit?"
The rider tried to answer.
Nothing came.
Someone gave him water.
He coughed, swallowed and forced the words out.
"East road."
The elder crouched beside him.
"What happened?"
"Army."
The courtyard went silent.
"How many?"
The rider shook his head.
"Too many."
"Whose?"
"I don't know. Mixed banners. Some were burned. They attacked everyone on the road."
The elder's face tightened.
"How far?"
The rider looked toward the eastern wall.
"Less than a day."
Nobody moved for a second.
Then Pylore changed.
Again.
But this time, I felt the moment happen.
Orders were shouted.
The gates began closing.
Bells rang from every clan hall.
People ran toward homes, armories, shelters.
Children who had been playing near the central road were pulled inside.
Liora turned toward the Voran district.
I turned toward the Keldor hall.
We took three steps in opposite directions.
Then both stopped.
I looked back.
So did she.
There were a hundred things we could have said.
Be careful.
Don't do anything stupid.
Find me when this is over.
Victor should be here.
None of them came out.
Liora gave me one small nod.
I returned it.
Then we ran.
For years, Pylore had watched the continent fight from a distance.
We had trained while kingdoms burned.
Taken missions while borders moved.
Expanded while refugees crossed roads that had once carried trade.
We believed strength would be enough to keep the war outside.
By sunset, soldiers appeared beyond the eastern hills.
And for the first time in my life, Pylore closed every gate.