Ashencroft

Chapter 1

Ashencroft was a city under seige. What had initially started as a beneficial position - set apart from the other city-states, the natural environment of the surrounding area making it a veritable fortess, unassailable by traditional methods - had turned into a death trap for the inhabitants of the peaceful town. The opposing forces, no longer merely bent on terrorizing and plundering available resources, had set up a blockade on the main road that made travel and trade impossible. The harbor that backed the city was unsailable in the winter due to the icy waves and jagged cliffs, and the few sailors that did brave the waters were not heard from again. Until now.

Councilor Eaton paced the hall, his hands tucked deep into the voluminous pockets of his robes. One of the local trade merchants had sent out a ship on a fool's errand, trying to rally aide from one of the neighboring states; it had seemed a futile gesture at the time, born of desperation and the knowledge that the city was slowly dying without ever being touched by sword or arrow. When the battered vessle had returned there was first rejoicing, then confusion as it was revealed the sole outsider was a tall, mysterious stranger who spoke little and smiled less. The captain of the ship had claimed the stranger would solve all their problems, and so it had fallen on Eaton's shoulders to see exactly how they could do so, if at all. Not a nervous man by nature, rationing and the constant stress of his position had taken its toll, and he viewed the upcoming meeting with a mixture of trepidation and tenuous hope.

When the guard arrived, he looked as confused as most felt, apparently not quite sure how to even introduce the stranger. Eventually he simply said, "Councilor Eaton, I present Lord Alyth," and stood back for the outsider to make his entrance.

The figure, obviously no stranger to dramatic appearances, strode into the hall behind the young man. He hadn't removed his outdoor clothing, his dark cloak billowing behind him. Indeed, he didn't even remove his hood until he was standing before Eaton. Its lowering revealed a pale, smooth face, fine, aristocratic features, startling amber eyes, and a thick head of dark brown hair. All in all, not quite the impressive sight one might have hoped for. No seasoned warrior this, 'Lord' Alyth looked barely five and twenty.

With barely a moment of blustering indecision Eaton bowed, straightening up to meet Alyth's eyes in a straightforward, frank manner. "Good day, Lord Alyth, and welcome. I apologize that our hospitality cannot afford to express our gratitude at your arrival; rest assured that were it possible, we would not hesitate to extend every comfort to you."

"Greetings, sir." The young man's voice was smooth and mellow, with a warmth that sat at odds with his icy demeanor. "No apology will be necessary - my rooms are perfectly adequate."

"A fact I am very glad to hear. Please, would you care to be seated?" Eaton asked, gesturing to a pair of comfortable chairs that had been set up beside the picture window. Looking down into a city on the brink of starvation.

"Thank you, I prefer to stand," Alyth said, though he made his way over to the window nonetheless, clasping his hands behind his back and looking out.

Frowning, Eaton followed the young man to the window, hoping to hurry the meeting along. There was nothing about Alyth that suggested anything more than a rich boy out for a lark, and the councilor had better things to do with his time than entertain him. "Is this your first visit to our city, Lord Alyth?" he asked, putting back on his neutral expression.

"No, but I have not been here for some time," came the answer.

"Ah, well. A shame that your return should come upon such hard times as these. I hope you will not judge us too harshly."

The visitor breathed in and back out slowly through his nose, pursing his lips. "There is little point in apportioning judgement - particularly for a folly that was your forefathers', not your own."

"A wise point of view," Eaton said approvingly, raising his eyebrows slightly in surprise. "Though I admit I am surprised that you know the history of our city."

Alyth turned to glance at the councilor, before looking back out of the window. "I saw its inception."

"P-pardon me?"

Rather than answer the question, Alyth merely turned his unfathomable gaze once more upon Eaton. "How can I help you?"

The councilor hurried to gather his wits, rather thrown by Alyth's amber eyes and his inscrutinable expression. "I... I'm not sure what you mean, sir. You seem to know our city's problem..."

"I am enquiring as to how you would like the assembled blockades to disappear." There was no impatience in the guest's voice despite Eaton's repeated questions - indeed, his tone was closest to the endless patience of a grandfather addressing a child. "Would you like the opposing forces to simply diperse? Or would you prefer the entente between them break down and they fall apart squabbling with each other? Do you want to be left in a position of increased power in the area, or will you be content simply to have your trade routes back?"

His mouth gaping open like a fish's plucked from the water, Eaton furrowed his brow in confusion. There was no mistaking the fact that this young man was completely serious; the only question was whether he was also completely insane. "I'm sorry, Lord Alyth, but what you're proposing... it's all impossible."

"Do you wish my help or not, Councilor?"

"I don't understand..."

"Then it is perhaps best that you leave it to those who do - namely myself. Do you need to consult with the rest of the governors of this city, or can you speak for them? Do you need time to think?"

"Er... yes. I mean, no, I can't, but yes, I do."

"Very well. How long will you need?"

"A day? Two?"

"A day will be sufficient. I will meet with you again in the evening."

Blinking, Eaton nodded, not exactly sure what he was agreeing to. "Er, yes. Yes, of course. Very well."

His face still completely unreadable, Alyth nodded. "We will discuss the price, then, also."

"Price? Oh, well, you must understand, we've been under seige so long... we simply do not have the resources we once did."

"You have what I need. The only question will be whether it is something you are prepared to give." The young man stepped away from the window, pulling his hood back up over his head, signalling an end to the conversation. "Until tomorrow, Councilor."

Eaton could do little else but nod dumbly and watch as the young man showed himself out through the large arch in the main hall. Resting one hand on the windowsill, he glanced down at the streets of the city, staring for a long moment before gathering himself up. Alyth was insane, of course... he talked of things no normal man would call real. Still, on the off chance he was telling the truth, Eaton had best tell the others. Just in case.

"That's preposterous! He must be mad."

Councilor Grey looked disappointed to the point of anger, clearly most put out that their spark of hope had fizzled back out again immediately like tinder with no kindling.

Councilor Eaton sank back in his seat, obviously too chagrined to even argue the point. He hadn't been expecting a warm reception, it was true, but he had no proof to give the other men. He couldn't hope to convince them without proof...

"Wait! What if we asked for a... a demonstration of some sort?" he asked suddenly, sitting up straight in his chair.

Saville raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I cannot see what this... boy... could possibly show us to prove he is capable of such feats. However, we have nothing better to do, starving to death behind our own walls. I suppose another wasted day is neither here nor there."

"Then it's decided! We will ask for a demonstration. And if he proves truly capable of these feats, then we may have hope after all."

Grey seemed to think about this. Finally, he nodded. "You will ask him when you meet with him this evening, Eaton. In the meantime, then, I suppose we must consider the ludicrous options he laid at our door."

Thusly distracted, the councilors began to discuss, debate, and argue the different options that Eaton had reported to them - tenuous hope was still hope, and they meant to be prepared if the opportunity arose. For his part, Eaton was simply glad he had not been laughed off, as he hadn't chosen to be the one to meet with Alyth, merely assigned.

Nevertheless, it was with some trepidation that he left the still-debating council to meet with Lord Alyth in one of the smaller chambers off the Great Hall.

"They do not believe me. They wish for proof."

"Er... yes." Eaton tried to cover his surprise with a cough. "You must understand, we simply cannot agree to pay a price on something we have not seen.."

"I am not here to perform for you." Alyth turned, gazing steadily back at the greying councilor. "If I show you, will they trust that you are telling them the truth when you say I am to be believed?"

"You cannot wait until they are all present?"

"I will show you only."

Taking a deep breath, the councilor fumbled with the heavy chain across his chest, his fingers sliding over the smooth links nervously. "I... suppose that would suffice."

The young man took a couple of steps towards Eaton, until they stood face to face. "You must not tell them what you see. The exact nature of my aid must remain secret. Can I trust you?"

"But if I cannot tell them that..." Eaton swallowed, knowing that he was setting himself up to take a grand fall if this should fail. "Very well. You can trust me."

In a surprising gesture, Alyth lifted his hand to Eaton's face, long fingers gliding across it before the councilor could stop him.

"Yes, I think this is a face I can trust."

To Eaton's shock, the latter part of this utterance was spoken in his own voice, and he found that he was staring back at... himself.

"It can't be..." The old man felt his heart begin to flutter wildly and forced himself to take several deep breaths, never looking away from the figure in front of him. "What... what sort of sorcery is this?" he asked in a hushed tone, afraid now that anyone else might be drawn to see this abnormal display.

"This is not sourcery. It is an innate ability of my people. And it has the capacity to save your city."

"But... but how?"

Sighing softly, the lines of his face smoothing out as it arranged itself in a matter of seconds back into the fine boned beauty of the youth who'd arrived at the city, Alyth said, "Think on it, Eaton. I am in a position to enter the highest levels of the people in command, at those bases and beyond. I will destroy them from inside."

"What price would you ask of us?" Eaton asked then, the full potential dawning on him. "For a miracle such as this..."

"Young folk. Thirty of them."

"Pardon?"

"Sit down, Councilor, and I will explain."

As Eaton did so, the visitor continued. "Where my people are we have little history, for various reasons, and thus no stories or culture - no arts, music, literature. We crave these things but have not the right temperament to produce them.

"Thus, when I leave, I would request to take thirty young artists with me. Not teachers and scholars, nor children; we have no wish to cause undue pain, nor to prevent the next generation from learning the skills and culture we so dearly miss ourselves. These folk will be well taken care of and accommodated with us, and will want for nothing, purely in return for the pleasure they will give to a people starved of culture for hundreds of years." Alyth's eyes bored into Eaton's as he spoke, his tone still even, unreadable, but certainly without jest

"For this price, in addition to saving you from your plight now, I or another of my people will be in a position to return a decade hence, and deliver you again if needs be, and again after that, until such times as your city is stable once more."

"Yes, but..." Frowning, the older man once again reached up to slide his fingers over the golden chain linked over his chest. "People are not currency. I cannot simply give you anyone... they would have to choose to go with you of their own free will."

"Very well. But I will choose who is to come with me. If I cannot find thirty suitable citizens who will leave with me, then I cannot help you. It is that simple."

Though he wanted to protest that this was madness, the councilor was suddenly overcome by a great weariness, and he said nothing. The city was suffering, its people dying. He had no doubt that the offer of being taken safely away would appeal to more than a few citizens. Would it be enough? He could only hope a very cowardly hope that it would, for the sake of the greater good. "Very well," he mumbled at least, giving a defeated nod. "How can I help?"

"You can convince your council that this course of action is wise. I will do all the rest. Remember, Councilor Eaton, that you must not tell anyone what you saw in this room. I'm sure you understand why it must remain between us."

"Yes, of course. You have my word, Lord Alyth."

"Good fortune favour you. I will wait here for your return with the council's verdict."

"...and I believe that this may very well save our city, gentlemen." Eaton mopped a sleeve across his brow, surveying the other councilors in the chambers. "At a price that, while steep, may be our only option."

"You propose to let this boy simply run away with our sons and daughters? I've heard tales of such a price, but only in legend. It's unthinkable!"

"However," Councilor Algiz said slowly, tenting his fingers. "Removing the burden of hungry mouths to feed will lighten the load on our city. You cannot argue with that."

"The burden of fit, young, healthy workers?"

"He's not asking for workers; he's asking for artists."

"He's trying to steal our culture away!" said a shrill voice in protest. "And leave us with nothing!"

"There are tens of thousands of people in this city - far more than thirty who are trained in the arts. Besides, what good is art when we have no food?"

"I think it's suspicious that only Eaton knows for certain what this fellow can do. What if he's bluffing?"

"What point would I have in bluffing?" Eaton asked, exasperated. "What would I gain from that? I'm telling you, I think this will work!"

Grey held up a hand for silence - though he held no official seniority some deference was paid to him as the oldest member of the council.

"Eaton," he began, "You honestly believe, wholeheartedly, that this sight the young Lord showed you can save our city?"

"Yes, I do. I wouldn't have come to you with this proposition if I didn't. I know it seems a steep price, but we all know we cannot last much longer this way. We must do something..."

Grey held up his hand again, stopping Eaton in his tracks. "And he will seek out thirty young men and women who will go of their own accord? This, he agreed upon?"

"Yes, he has." Briefly Eaton felt a flash of guilt - what if Alyth used his strange ability to trick people into accompanying him? But even then he could not say the price wasn't worth it. "Those were the terms he agreed to."

"One final question Eaton," Grey went on quietly, meeting the other councilor's gaze steadily with his own watery blue eyes. "Your daughter, Ales. She sings and tells stories, does she not? I've heard tell that she has the most beautiful voice in Fort Ashencroft."

"It has been said, yes."

"You would place our hopes in this man to the extent that you would let him take her away? You trust him this far?"

At this Eaton hesitated; Ales was his only daughter, his pride and joy. It was her that he thought of when he tried to come up with a way to save the city. To think that she might go away with the frightening young Lord, never to return, made him want to cry. And yet he still nodded, his hands clenched into fists as he forced out the words. "Yes, I do."

Grey nodded slowly, and cast his eyes around the assembled men and women of the council. Not one had another word to say.

"It is done," Eaton announced as he came into the hall where Alyth waited, eschewing formalities for the plain and simple truth. "They have agreed. You have our support."

The fresh-faced Lord nodded, unfolding his arms and pulling his hood back up over his head. "You will likely see little of me henceforth. I will visit you a week from now to report on the progress of my tasks - both in assessing the situation at the barricades, and locating artists to join me on my voyage home. Oh, do not worry," Alyth added as he saw the flicker of fear and distrust across Eaton's face. "I will not entreat them to join me myself. I will give you their names when and as I locate them. You may speak to them yourself."

"Thank you," Eaton said with a sigh of relief.

"In the meantime, you had best discuss with the council what you would like to happen to your opposition - dispersal, ruin, redistribution, occupation - almost anything is possible, but consider carefully the long-ranging consequences of your actions."

"Yes, of course. I mean, indeed, we will." The councilor nodded, a bit irked to be instructed by this fresh-faced young man (though he knew that Alyth was not as young as he looked, it was still difficult to shake the feeling that he was being lectured by a young pup).

Alyth tipped his head to one side, his face growing wrinkled and leathery before Eaton's eyes. "Would you prefer that I looked more venerable?" he asked in a dry, thin voice.

"I would prefer that you concentrate your efforts on fulfilling your end of the bargain - even a week may prove to be too long, if the situation does not change."

"I will endeavour to see that something makes it through, provided it does not interfere with my eventual success."

"Thank you," Eaton said stiffly.

"I'll be seeing you," Alyth said, his face disappearing into the shadows of his hood as he stepped away from the window, and made his exit from the room.