Chapter 23

All good things end.

As well as our time with the Orombuc tribe.

It was...quite trying to adapt to lesser means of comfort. I went from everything done for me and relishing on the best that Urium has to offer. To having to hunt for food, forced to slurp sludgy slugs and sleep in the most uncomfortable positions, overcrowded by others.

But I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. I learnt so much, far more than just reading about places and people from the Regnum's library. I got to live it, taste their foods, walk their paths and become a part of them. Even though it was just for a time.

Whilst our guards and Duce Merian prepare our exodus from Shamburn, with the aid of some of the Oromians. The Herems and I are in the Chieftain's hut to receive a blessing from none other than the Augur herself. Their sleeping hut is more lavish, in a very bucolic kind of way. There are dual pristine mats centred at the head of the hut, decorated by colourful hand-woven layers. Ornamental carafe-size statues and clay pottery encircle the interior like a holy shrine.

All of us are lined up on our knees, our heads bowed. All she has done so far is pace in front of us all, muttering a tirade of incoherent words. Her frame is enveloped in a patterned hooded robe, showcasing the colours of the Orombuc: yellow, orange, red, and brown. The hood casts her unseen face in darkness.

Oam remains outside, but he is the only one that knows our tongue. Our translator. I'm uncertain of the worth of a blessing if we cannot understand it. Curious, I sneak a glimpse of the Augur standing at the one end of the line, before a kneeled Vince.

She outstretches a tattooed hand, and it hovers above the crown of his head.

"The...spirit of conqueror," she says in broken Arkian with a rustic and rough accent.

Never mind then.

She glides to Dario, besides Vince, and says, "Spirit of warrior."

She moves along the line and declares her word over each of them.

She stops in front of Rimnick and says, "Spirit of beast."

My eyebrows quirk.

Next is Markiveus, and she says, "Spirit of snake."

I cage in a laugh.

Solaris follows, and she conspicuously pauses before she says, "Spirit of ally."

Promptly, I feel her presence before me. A herbal scent emanates from her like the winds in the trees. She outstretches her hand. Something flows from her to me in palpable waves like electric currents.

"The spirit of overcomer."

After she prays loudly and passionately in her tongue, gesticulating wildly, the baggy sleeves of her robe swaying like fluttering wings. Only after are we released. In a single file, we make our way out of the hut. I emerge outside, wincing at the sharp spears of light stabbing my eyes. My vision adjusts and the swell of brilliant light recedes, and I'm able to bear witness to the sight before me. The expansive main pathway is flanked by all of the Oromian people, holding chaplets of rich-coloured flowers.

Solaris and I trade animated looks as we all slowly walk down. And it ignites a fervour of farewell cheers and applause from all those surrounding us. Soldiers stand in a lengthy line in front of the crowds. As we saunter down, we are showered by sprays of petals, appearing as if they are falling from the heavens. I notice the same gaggle of children that faithfully oversaw Dario and I's archery lessons. In a unified display they show us a meaningful gesture with their fingers. Then they all unleash an explosion of petals that burst forth on the path we embark on.

A few Oromian women are allowed to seep through with garlands of flowers in their hands. The Herems and I take a minor bypass to them, bending our necks one after the other to accept the large necklaces, made entirely out of sweet-smelling blooms.

Afore the maw of the compound, the hunters stand together. Their cheers surge once they see Vince. And he dazzles them with his cosmic smile, making his approach to them. They swallow him into an all-engrossing hug, a few of them patting the back of his head, hands clapping his shoulders.

We all exit, viewing our carousine that stands ready. One of the coachmen stands beside the open door, portable steps posted. With the addition of Duce Merian's carriage at the rear, which he already occupies. The guards are already mounted on their horses in the same regiment, two rows of nine ahead of the carousine and the other nine behind Merian's carriage.

Oam stands several metres before the whole convoy. "Herems and a Hera, it was an honour to host you," he says and places a hand on his heart, bowing his head to us all.

Vince strides forward. "The honour is all ours," he says and motions to all of us. "The true blessing was to merge our lives with the lives of the Oromian people. The true treasure of Urium."

Such a charmer.

I look away. Primus Kelan seizes my gaze. He is settled at the front of the regiment. The strength of a noonday sun pours itself down on him. His burgundy armour gleams under its beams, and pure sunlight glimmers in those stygian eyes. His raven black hair is tied up in a bun with a few insolent wisps that caress his sculpted face.

A hand cuts in front of my face, fluttering incessantly. I draw back, blinking many times before I flash back to reality.

"Where did you go?" Solaris asks, and tries to follow my line of sight.

Alarmed, I grip his taut bicep and drag him onwards. "Nothing, I was—"

"Thinking?" he interjects and snorts. Then he lapses into a thoughtful silence. Adopting a serious tone, he says, "I did not think that I would...but a part of me is going to miss this place."

"You? You are going to miss eating slugs, having to hunt for food, and sleeping on solid rock?"

A smile threads through his pink lips. "I said a part of me. But truly, their culture is enriching, their livelihood and their sense of unity. The meals shared before a burning fire, entertained every night by folklore. It's like living with a really big native family." His jaw once clean-shaven has evolved into a gritty, sand-rough stubble, over the time spent here.

I nod in accord. "Could not have said it better myself."

We reach the entrance of the carousine and I climb in first, making my way to our spot at the back bench. I collapse on the cushioned seat, releasing a sigh of relief.

Comfort.

Shortly, Solaris takes his place beside me, and unexpectedly, Vince settles himself on my other flank. I look back at him, scanning him up and down questioningly. His once fine D'Artagnan moustache has overgrown into a full beard, but not heavy. The prickly hair is still light around his mouth. That dark frosted brown of his once groomed hair is now ruffled, and its length easily passes the tips of his ears.

Despite all that, he's still a sight to behold.

"And to what do I owe this rare delight?"

He chuckles and makes himself comfortable. His torso slanted against the corner, torso twisted to face me with his one arm extended, resting his elbow on the long sill of the velvety window frame.

"It's a long journey. Thought we could keep each other... amused," he says huskily.

I lean back against the headboard, allowing my head to droop back. With my gaze set forward, I say, "Well you will be sorely disappointed, I'm not very amusing."

"On the contrary, I think you possess many qualities that both amuse...and astound."

My eyes narrow into slits and my head rolls to the side. He wags his brows at me pointedly. Once the carousine brims with all the candidates, so does the odour that clings to us all. The blend of our grimy clothes mixed with the eye-watering smell of unwashed bodies trapped in the carousine with us, free to wander the restricted area.

Presently, the welcomed sound of clopping hooves echoes, faintly muffled by the mushy ground of the quagmire-like surface. The carousine follows as it draws forward until it rolls with the steady canter of the horses.

***

During the ride, the fresh air from the window holes washes the inside, cleansing the tenacious odour. And this time the journey is far less quiet. A few conversations buzz among the other Herems. Whereas my attention is shared between Solaris and Vince until Solaris nods off. And it's only Vince and I.

Now I see why many desire his company, his dashing personality coupled with that cosmic smile. He simply radiates energy and brio that makes his natural charm magnetic. I also didn't realise how many parties that I attended in the past that he was there, too. Soirees held by any Nobleman, a designated area must be reserved in case a royal is in attendance. I'm sure that is where he often lingers.

He and I reminisce about Count de Marchellian's party. The one cycle he held a celebration to extol his eternal love for his wife. Love meant to stretch beyond the limits of the sky. However, his pregnant mistress crashed the party with two of his other mistresses. All with children. It seems his love was a bit too far-reaching.

Hours drift by, but Vince and I go only deeper with each other, entrenched in exhilarating conversation. One that I did not think I would experience amongst the Herems. A rapt grin engraved on my face.

We speak from when the sun is enthroned in the sky until its fall. And now the moon rises to claim its stead. Everything under the midnight blue sky is awash with the darkness of night. The gifted garlands are cast aside, and some carelessly thrown on the floorboards. All the other Herems, even Solaris, are fast asleep. A few of the others rumble fatigued snores.

All except Vince and I, snickering like children that refuse to sleep.

"What about princess Emelia? I heard tales of her beauty."

Vince snorts a stifled laugh, throwing his head back with exaggerated emphasis. "I have faced bloodhounds with teeth the size of butcher knives that are more approachable than her."

I free another giggle. "So, she's insusceptible to the charms of the bewitching, Vince Esputo?"

He looks back at me, encompassed by shadows. But even in the dark his glittering smile prospers. "You believe me to be bewitching?"

Heat stings my cheeks. "No, I think, you think that you are bewitching and utterly charming. You must since you have sons of kings for companions."

He chuckles deeply and shrugs his shoulders. "Perhaps I'm just that likeable...I must be if I'm winning the fondness of the lone Hera."

My eyes nearly roll out of their sockets. "First off, do not be so sure of yourself. I tolerate you."

"Oh, yes, of course," he says, nodding his head in mock agreement.

"Secondly...does everyone truly call me that?" Not offended, simply curious.

"Well...that's one of the nicer terms, the others are less...polite," he says, shimming up from his slouched position to sit upright. "People wonder why you spurn your own. The only parties you have attended were out of a communal obligation of your inherent station. But you happily attend festivals of the common folk. Why?"

My smile wanes before it flickers out like a dying flame.

A frown crumples the skin between my brows. "Well...I prefer their company more. That's just it. With them there are no social obligations or rules on how to act. Everything is spirited and carefree where one can do as they want. And be who they are without recourse, fearing judgement and ridicule from others."

Vince nods thoughtfully. "Were you under guard?"

"No."

"But is it not dangerous, milling around such an unrefined crowd? As you said...so carefree, without rules on how to act."

I inhale a deep breath, resting the side of my head against the headboard, looking at him directly. "Alike to everyone else, they are not perfect. There have been several incidents where...males both young and old that have tried to take advantage of the lone Hera. Testing how far my munificence goes."

Vince crosses his arms and stares back at me piercingly. A shimmer of moonlight catches in his eyes, banishing the gloom from his face for a moment. Then it returns to consume more than half of his face.

"And what did you do?"

"I handled it," I say flatly.

"How?"

"I simply did," I shut down. Night-time exhaustion eroding my guard. "The problem with our aristocratic society is that I see Noblemen...but not a noble man. A nobility that goes beyond wealth, title, and station, but the nobility of a being. To have honour, to be kind and gallant. If we all strived to be that, more than what we are, but what we can be. Aloof to one's self-seeking nature. The realm would be a better place."

An interval of strange silence ensues, one that I feel only envelopes us. I wait patiently for his response, but he just stares at me like I'm a cipher that needs to be decrypted.

"How idealistic. Not all of us can be so fortunate to bear such compassion as you do."

Disagreement tugs my brow upwards. "I think everyone has the ability to choose how they live and how they treat others."

"Wow," he blurts.

I snap back like it was an insult. "Wow, what?"

"You truly are a marvel, Hera Adalia."

A flattering smile wiggles its way on my face, and I look away bashfully. "Do you always play the sop to one's vanity?"

"I do not tell people what they want to hear." He leans his head back, exposing his veiny neck. "I tell them what they need to hear."

"And why would I need to hear that?"

"Because it is what I think of you...both a need and..." his eyes crawl down, slowly. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "And a want."

"Argh." A madden groan rolls out from a broad-shouldered silhouette.

I turn my head to inspect the interior made hazy by the shroud of black.

"Do shut up, Vinny," a hoarse voice says, impaired by sleep. Brennon. "Cease your attempts to woo the poor Hera, it is not like you are going to get any reward tonight. Not with us all in the carousine."

Thank the stars that it is too dark to see my face, for it is surely redder than a blood moon.