CHAPTER XVII
BEGGARS AND BELLS
Fensby is beautiful. Sparkling. It has the same serene calm of Alston mixed with the silent pride of Fumagalli.
The white marble buildings that line the River Poise all shine brightly against the fading sun that’s now pushing through the clearing above the fast moving body of water.
Those buildings are tall, six or seven stories high and reaching for the tips of the forest surrounding them.
Hundreds of lanterns of bottled moonslight are affixed to the walls and hanging from the trees, while countless argents fly between the buildings and the people who are at eye level to their flight.
The city fashions itself directly along the river, moving south to north on the Road of Gold and using the thick woods to the east as a border.
Scores of verandas jut out of the buildings, their planks wider and all connecting to the structures next to them so that the people here can move across and above.
In fact, many are forgoing the road below that we’re on, instead moving above like they do in Fumagalli and Etter.
The cobblestone path we ride on is littered with white roses and vendors at every corner, their storefronts resting below tall glass windows that rise between the various balconies and stories.
Just looking skyward gives me an aching head, trying to understand how the city melds itself between the woods and different structures.
Each building leads to a new store or pub next to it, with the people all darting in and out and moving in the sky.
At times, I’ll spot the patrons stopping at the many different levels of the balconies that aren’t quite balconies at all, just places of gathering of which someone can stop and chat before getting to where they need to be.
Everything is just tall and connected, the planks weaving between the forest trees acting as roads above, leading the people to places only they know how to navigate.
There’s a lot of people in Fensby, Discerni and humans alike.
This small city is heavily populated, crowding itself into a narrow space that lines the river skyward.
There’s no distinction or separation among them that I can see, but I do note that they all move around in a silent pride, most likely due to the beautiful sky-rise city they’ve built among the trees.
The night here is a bit chillier than it was in Dankworth. We’re far north in Disce now, the northern most tip of the Kingdom, with the Forest of Quiescence acting as the only remaining border before crossing into the Kingdom of Aireal.
“How far are we from Aireal?” I turn to Keane from atop Millie as we move under the buildings.
“Three turns of the sun, give or take,” he smiles.
“You said you’ve been there before?”
“Once,” he grins, “before my eighteenth birthday. My family traveled to the capitol to visit King Voland’s father at the time...”
His eyes sparkle on mine, knowing that I want to hear more.
“I wish I was riding next to you when we entered Red Falls,” he says quietly. “I would have loved to see your face when you took it all in. I did take a quick look when you asked Daniel if what you were seeing was snow…”
Keane’s grin broadens as he shakes his head. “Your curiosity, Alexis. Your sense of adventure. I’ll always want to witness it.”
“Tell me more.”
Keane chuckles, brown eyes still alight as he turns them back to the road in memory.
“Aireal is mountainous and filled with rolling hills. They’re different from the mountains in Pyre, not as high or graced with snow.
The lands are green and rocky with their cities rising high into the clouds.
They’re all built at the tips of the mountains.
Towers upon towers that are grey and white, the largest structures I have ever seen.
But it makes sense, as it was rumored in the old years that their people used a contraption of some sort, that they moved the air around them so that the device could take them from one tip of the mountain to another.
A maseveran, it was called in the old tongue… ”
My eyes go wide in disbelief.
“It’s colder up there, so far north and in the clouds, but the sun shines brightly without any woods to cover the land. The full of the Kingdom is very open and under the sky. I’ll take you there sometime. I should like to go back.”
Ancients, I would love to visit.
“I would love that, Keane” my voice is quiet and full of wonder.
“I know.”
We begin to move into what looks to be the middle of the city, the road opening wide without any buildings surrounding it, just the large planks connecting high in the trees around us.
To our left is a large bridge that juts out of the side of the road, curving over the River Poise and leading into the Court of Warriors.
The sight brings a smile to my lips. We’re nearly there.
“How long will we stay?”
“Tonight,” Keane smiles at a human couple walking past us, “we’ll leave tomorrow at the noon apex. Brassard is a half day’s ride through the forest.”
I smile again, letting Keane lead us towards a large white marble building.
It towers high, an easy eight or nine stories tall, the largest I’ve seen yet, with numerous windows and balconies that overlook the middle gathering in the road and the bridge beyond.
There’s a lengthy courtyard at the building’s front, tables littering the short grass with numerous people sitting outside that are all drinking and eating and chatting.
It’s lively. The liveliest I’ve ever seen in this court, and makes that smile on my lips turn into an outright grin.
A man from one of those tables points to our group riding in. His chin tilts to another man sitting across from him, urging him to look over his shoulder. The second man turns around swiftly, dropping a large tankard of ale on the wood before he stands up with a beaming grin.
“Your Grace!” his voice booms, walking our way through the courtyard. “You finally made it!”
Keane smiles large in return, bringing Ash to a stop as he dismounts. We all do the same, my eyes landing on the man now walking towards us with a hint of swagger in his steps.
He’s a Discerni, around the same age as Keane and the same height.
His hair is a light blonde, not the pale or silver that graces the typical Woodlands Discerni here but a shade darker.
That hair is also not in the typical Woodlands style, but instead pulled back in a knot at the nape of his neck and reminding me of the men from Warrior.
His eyes are sparkling in their hazel brown, steps sure and proud of himself as he walks with confidence.
He’s handsome, just as all Discerni are with their angular plains, but it’s the confidence in his full demeanor that makes me eye him quietly.
He holds himself as a man from Keane’s court would, yet his attire of a pale green satin long sleeve and a rich set of grey riding pants screams Woodlands. I didn’t know what to make of him.
“Lord Dacre,” Keane immediately places his hand on my back, brow lifting in amusement. “I see you’ve already started without me.”
The Lord bows in front of us with a flourish. “The moment the sun goes down, Your Grace. Please don’t exact your punishment.”
“I will if you don’t have a drink waiting for me,” Keane chuckles and clasps the man’s arm.
“You know I do.”
The Lord smirks and turns his hazel eyes on me, his brows lifting up just a fraction before he gives a friendly smile.
“Lady,” his voice has a flirty edge to it, hand reaching out to take mine.
I let him take my fingers, his lips brushing against my knuckles as he keeps my gaze. “Welcome to Fensby. Your beauty shines as bright as this city.”
Bold.
Confident, cocky and bold.
“Thank you, Lord Dacre,” I smile in return, feeling Keane’s thumb playing against my back, “it is indeed beautiful here.”
“More so now,” he grins, releasing my hand.
“Dacre,” Keane chuckles, drawing the Lord’s gaze back to him.
“I know, I know,” the Woodlands man raises his hands in the air, walking to Keane’s side, “settle down and find a nice Lady of my own. Your father asked the same of me at every new turn of the year.”
“Come,” he slaps Keane on the back, the two of them grinning, “let’s get your horses settled and some food in your bellies.”
Our group moves around the courtyard to the side of the large building and the stables that await. A few young human teens are there to assist, moving between our horses to take everyone’s reins.
“They’ll put your crew’s packs in your rooms at the inn” the Lord tells Keane, “but you’re on the top floor with me.”
The King’s gaze flicks briefly to me, lips turning up in a hidden smirk.
“Food and ale,” Dacre smiles at us all, “or the sparkling shit they serve here, if that’s your prerogative.”
My eyes go wide on the Lord.
Who is this man?
Our group makes our way back to the courtyard, the sun now kissing the horizon as the night sky surrounds the forests.
Many people are still seated outside the massive inn, though the table that Dacre previously sat on now has two more joining at its sides, creating a large welcome for the full of our traveling crew.
Mugs of full ales are already placed on the wood and waiting for us, the benches long and spreading across each side.
My brows tip up again in surprise, the set up so close to mimicking the tables that grace Gaumond’s court and force everyone to sit together.
I’m officially perplexed.
We’re certainly in a Woodland’s city, that’s apparent from all the white marble and glittering moonslight around us, but there’s a small mixture of Warrior here as well.
You’re close to the border, Stormfall reminds me, Agnor and Dalloway do the same.
They do, don’t they, I smile and lift a hand to his chest.