“Give me this map,” Ranier demanded, snatching it from Keilan’s hands.
He examined the kingdom’s layout, the designs of the major cities, and the key positions of both the Iron Claws and the Royal Guards. His eyes drifted next to the massive walls of Bryniard.
Nothing made sense.
Arriving at the edges of the forbidden city, he had interrogated every single one of the Iron Claw soldiers guarding the walls on the night Eldric picked up the shipment of ale. Several witnesses affirmed that the guard arrived at Bryniard on horseback and returned from inside the tunnel with nothing but his carriage full of barrels, as he was supposed to. None of the Iron Claws have seen the two women who were supposedly his accomplices in the events in Porjea.
The map had been so frequently used that the creases from its constant folding were almost responsible for splitting the precious piece of paper in two. Still, General Uldor did not handle it any gentler when his eyes narrowed at the information. Between Porjea and Bryniard lay only the Canyons of Truths and the region of Mecra, which was mostly uninhabited due to itsproximity to Bryniard. It made him wonder what part of their travels the women had joined him.
Where did they come from if not from the next inhabited village?
“Is there any possibility they might have come from the inside?” Keilan pointed out in a whisper, his fingers brushing his chin.
“Speak louder, boy!” the general yelled. “Murmuring will take you nowhere.”
Keilan cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, sir, I was simply thinking out loud. Now that I have spoken it, I see how absurd the idea of anyone coming from the inside of Bryniard sounds.”
Ranier frowned as his hands touched the cold stone of the walls. It was so slippery on this side that no one could possibly climb it. His eyes darted to the tunnel entrance when his mind buzzed with racing thoughts. For every shipment leaving Bryniard, it was a standard procedure to open and scan the barrels of ale for verification before bringing the carriage out to Heldraine. However, since the shipment this time was transported by a mere Royal Guard rather than an Iron Claw member, it was possible that the man had unknowingly carried the women out. Not out of malice, but simply because he had not received the necessary instructions to perform such a task.
The general was rarely terrified, but the slightest possibility of Bryniard’s exit being breached made his body go rigid. If Keilan was right, this was about to become the most important classified mission in the history of the Iron Claw Battalion. The secrets of Bryniard had been kept from the people of Heldraine for generations, all thanks to the loyal service of the Iron Claws. Ranier would be damned if he was going to be the first to fail to keep the secret he swore to take with him to the grave.
The general rummaged through his assistant’s bag, taking a sheet of paper from the inside. It was one of the posters hehad his soldiers distribute across the kingdom, featuring the fugitives’ faces. Luckily, he still had a few left.
“Keilan, I want five Iron Claws with me now. We’re going in.”
The young man’s eyes widened. “But no one has ever entered the city past the end of the tunnels, sir.”
“Are you afraid of the ‘monsters’ like the rest of the commoners, boy?”
Keilan did not sense the sarcasm in the general’s voice, nor did he see it as a rhetorical question—which it was. Instead, he stated the obvious. “They are not real, sir.”
Ranier’s look was full of apathy mixed with anger and disgust. “I do not need you to tell me they are not real, Keilan! I’m the general of the Iron Claws, or did you forget what our job even is?” he barked.
Keilan started shaking with fear, trying not to soil his uniform with urine. He stumbled with his words. “I-I’m sorry, sir.”
General Uldor took hold of his sword in one hand and used the other to open his assistant’s reluctant mouth, grabbing his tongue between his fingers. The blade slowly approached the muscle, drawing the smallest drop of blood. “You really deserve to have your tongue cut off after this stupidity. It would be a blessing never to hear your voice again,” he spoke through gritted teeth.
Poor Keilan moaned prayers, pleading to whatever higher power existed above as his tongue was trapped under the tight grip of Ranier. “Phhlis xpér my tonf, sr,” was the best he could make out in that situation.
“You know what, if you’re right about the women being from Bryniard, you keep your tongue.”
The general released him, rubbing the saliva off his fingers on Keilan’s uniform. He patted the young man’s shoulder and laughed, walking past him. The thrill of finding out whether hisassistant would keep his tongue at the end of the day was, for him, a simple distraction before he could start one that promised to be an exciting day.
The path leading inside Bryniard was humid, dark, and faintly smelled of alcohol. Keilan and five other armored Iron Claws followed their commandant closely through the tunnels. They had been instructed not to answer any questions the people might ask. Their objective was to confirm whether the women portrayed in the posters were from Bryniard. In a small, enclosed town, he expected the residents to easily recognize the women, but the Iron Claws had been authorized by their general to use physical force if necessary.
The tunnel’s end led to a deposit of clutter in empty barrels and dirty rags. Muffled chatters, the sound of glass breaking, and laughter proved they were under a tavern. That, and the stronger, nauseating smell of alcohol. The Iron Claws climbed up the flight of stairs, breaking into the establishment like thunder. All eyes were immediately drawn to them.
To the general’s surprise, the place had a more charming appearance than the tavern they had visited in Porjea. Although rustic, it had a subtle sophistication, at least compared to what he had expected to be a shithole. What had not changed, however, was the reaction of the people. The sight of strong men, armored from head to toe, was, for the Brynardians something beyond their comprehension.
Where did these god-like men come from? Is the world outside inhabited? Were the monsters defeated? Their minds raced with every possible scenario. Through shocked faces, bent knees, and cries of fear, their reactions varied from awe to horror.
“Spread through the town, interrogate the owners of the main establishments, and meet me back here in fifty minutes,”Ranier ordered the soldiers under his command, and they immediately stormed out of the tavern.
Glancing around, Ranier was left with his assistant and the curious eyes of the people that remained frozen in place, like time had stopped. His first move was to approach a woman sitting at the corner of the tavern. She looked terrified, which was precisely why he chose her.
“Have you ever seen any of these women, ma’am?” he asked, reaching for the piece of paper in his pocket.
The look of recognition in her eyes was so immediate, so raw, that even if she wished to deny it, she couldn’t, not when Ranier drew a smile to his lips, knowing he had come to the right place. “I will not hurt you, ma’am. I simply wish to know if you recognize these women.”