Chapter 20 Small Choices
Eira
In the third morning, Eira woke to the sound of gulls.
For several moments she lay motionless beneath the blankets, staring at the canvas above her and wondering whether she had imagined it.
Then the cry came again, sharp and distant yet unmistakable.
Gulls.
A slow smile touched her lips before she could stop it.
She had never truly heard them before. She knew them only from stories, descriptions in books, and the occasional tale told by traveling merchants, but never with her own ears and never like this.
The sound seemed strangely wild, unlike the mountains, unlike wolves, and unlike anything she had known.
Eira pushed aside the blanket and stepped from the tent.
The morning air greeted her immediately with a chill that carried the scent of salt and something vibrant she could not quite name.
She stopped and looked around.
The world had changed.
The mountains still stood behind them, blue and distant beneath the dawn sky, but the land ahead had softened. The forests had begun to thin, the air felt lighter, and somewhere beyond the rolling hills, hidden from sight, lay the sea.
She could smell it, and the realization filled her with an unexpected thrill.
A small fire burned nearby, and Leander sat beside it, already awake, which surprised her no more than the sunrise itself.
A kettle rested over the flames while one of the guards fed the horses and another dismantled part of the camp.
The entire caravan appeared to function effortlessly around him, not because he constantly gave orders, but because everyone already knew what needed to be done.
Leander glanced up as she approached.
"You're awake."
After a brief pause, he added, "Good."
Eira laughed.
"Is that all?"
"What were you hoping for?"
"I don't know."
Leander considered the question.
"A speech?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then I believe we've both been spared."
One corner of his mouth lifted briefly before the expression vanished almost at once.
Eira settled beside the fire, and Leander handed her a steaming cup.
No questions followed, and there was no discussion of her decision, no mention of Ironfang, and no mention of Soren.
The silence should have felt awkward, yet it was surprisingly comfortable.
For several moments they simply watched the morning unfold around them while the gulls cried somewhere overhead.
Eira lifted her gaze.
"I still can't see the sea."
"You won't."
"Why not?"
Leander took a sip from his cup before answering.
"Because Silverwake enjoys making visitors wait."
She rolled her eyes.
"Is that an official policy?"
"One of our most important traditions."
He sounded so serious that she almost believed him.
A merchant caravan passed along the road not far from camp, its wagons heavy with cargo.
The lead driver noticed Leander immediately, and his face brightened as he lifted a hand in greeting.
Leander returned the gesture, and that was all.
There was no bow, no ceremony, and no trace of fear.
The wagons continued on their way, and Eira watched them disappear down the road.
"You know them?"
"No."
The answer surprised her.
"They seemed pleased to see you."
Leander shrugged.
"They're pleased to see someone who repairs roads."
Eira blinked.
"What?"
"The standards in some places are remarkably low."
She laughed despite herself, and the sound escaped before she could stop it. Leander looked entirely too satisfied by that fact. For a brief moment neither of them spoke.
The morning sunlight crept slowly across the hills while the sea remained hidden beyond them and the road stretched westward into the distance.
For the first time since leaving Frostvein, Eira realized she was genuinely curious about what waited at the end of it.
They resumed their journey shortly after sunrise.
The road wound steadily westward, climbing gentle hills before descending into shallow valleys dotted with stone farmhouses and wind-bent trees.
As the day passed, the landscape continued to change as the forests grew thinner, the mountains retreated farther behind them, and movement appeared everywhere Eira looked.
Wagons rolled along the roads beside merchants, fishing carts heading inland, and travelers moving in both directions, making the roads feel alive in a way she had never experienced before.
Frostvein had always seemed isolated, tucked safely among mountains and snow, and even Ironfang, for all its strength, felt distant from the rest of the world.
This was different, because here the world seemed connected.
A merchant passed them shortly before midday and greeted Leander by name. An hour later, a fisherman recognized him from across a field and shouted something unintelligible that caused two of the guards to laugh.
Later still, they stopped briefly near a stone bridge where several laborers were replacing weathered planks.
One of the workers spotted Leander immediately.
"About time you came back."
Leander guided his horse toward the bridge.
"I was gone for eight days."
"Exactly."
The man pointed toward the structure.
"The bridge chose that exact moment to start falling apart."
Leander studied it before replying.
"It appears to still be standing."
"Barely."
"I'll speak with the engineer."
"You said that last time."
"I did."
"You forgot."
"I did."
The worker nodded.
"Good. Just making sure we remember the same version of events."
Eira watched the exchange in disbelief.
The man sounded entirely unconcerned that he was speaking to one of the most powerful rulers in the region, and even more surprising was the fact that Leander seemed equally unconcerned.
They continued riding, and after remaining quiet for some time, Eira finally asked,
"They're not afraid of you."
Leander glanced sideways.
"Why would they be?"
The answer came so naturally that she almost missed it, as though the question itself seemed strange.
Eira looked ahead once more and noticed a group of children waving as they passed a farmhouse.
Leander waved back, and one of the children nearly fell into a ditch from excitement while the others burst into laughter. The entire scene felt absurdly normal, and somehow that unsettled her more than any display of power could have.
The afternoon stretched on as the air grew sharper and the scent of salt became stronger, until by evening even the gulls had become constant companions overhead.
Then, just as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, the road climbed one final ridge.
Leander slowed his horse, and the others did the same as something in their expressions changed into a familiar anticipation.
Eira frowned, followed their gaze, and forgot how to breathe.
Before her lay the sea, not as a distant line upon the horizon or a fleeting glimpse between hills, but as an endless, vast expanse of steel and silver stretching farther than her eyes could follow beneath the fading light.
The setting sun scattered molten gold across the water while distant waves rolled endlessly toward the shore.
For several seconds she could only stare.
Every story she had ever heard had failed completely, and no description had prepared her for either its scale or the feeling it inspired.
The world suddenly seemed impossibly large, as though the mountains she had once believed marked its edges had been nothing more than a doorway.
Then her gaze shifted, and she saw the city.
Silverwake rose from a rocky peninsula extending into the sea, its pale stone walls catching the last light of the evening while tall towers overlooked the harbor and white sails crowded the water below.
Several lighthouses stood watch along the cliffs while hundreds of windows glimmered like stars awakening against the approaching dusk, giving the city the appearance of something carved from sea spray and stone, beautiful, ancient, and alive.
Beside her, Leander remained silent, and for once even he seemed willing to let the view speak for itself.
Eira stared at the city, at the sea, and at the world opening before her, and for the first time in her life she realized she had been wrong.
The world did not end at the mountains; it began beyond them.
By midday, the road finally descended into the city.
The closer they came, the more impossible it became to look in only one direction.
The harbor stretched along the shoreline like a second city built upon the water itself, with ships crowding the docks in every size imaginable and their masts forming a forest of timber against the pale winter sky.
Sailors shouted across the piers while cranes creaked overhead, and carts rolled endlessly between warehouses and market squares.
Everywhere Eira looked, something was moving, whether it was people, goods, ships, or simply the restless pulse of life itself.
Nothing in Frostvein resembled this, and nothing in Ironfang did either.
The mountains and fortresses she knew suddenly felt very far away.
They entered through wide stone gates crowded with merchants, fishermen, laborers, travelers, and carts loaded with cargo from distant shores.
What struck Eira almost immediately was that no one stopped, bowed, or rushed aside to clear the way.
People recognized Leander, yet they did not react as they would have reacted to Vargan or Soren.
A fisherman lifted a hand from the docks.
“Back already?”
Leander nodded.
“Unfortunately.”
The man laughed.
“Then someone else’s voyage went poorly.”
“Several, actually.”
Another burst of laughter followed them down the street.
Eira turned toward him.
“You know him?”
“Not particularly.”
The answer seemed ridiculous.
“You spoke as though you did.”
“He repairs nets.”
“That explains nothing.”
“It explains enough.”
Eira stared at him while Leander continued riding as though the conversation had resolved itself, which it most certainly had not.
The city opened around them street by street.