Exile’s Summon

Arionn marched through the unrelenting darkness and snow. Behind him Matthias’s boots squelched as the lad trudged in his wake. The day had lasted longer than either had expected, but lights finally blazed in the distance.

A proper city. The first they’d seen in months.

“Not much further now,” Arionn called, trying to be heard above the wind. He thought he heard Matthias’s grunt in response. Hunching his shoulders, Arionn settled into the remaining distance.

They wouldn’t stay. They’d grab supplies, warm up, and be gone again. The last years hadn’t been easy for Matthias, but he didn’t complain.

Matthias sighed when they reached relative shelter of the gatehouse. The blazing torches were a relief from the cold. The guards halted them, inspected their papers, and waved them through.

Matthias moved along gratefully, but Arionn noted them single ahead. Scanning the road, he wondered if the stop had been a mistake.

Two men appeared from the darkness, and Matthias froze as if the ice had taken him. The pair marched straight for them, and raising their lantern illuminated their crests. Queen’s guard.

Placing a hand on Matthias’s shoulder, Arionn placed himself in front of the lad.

“Sir Arionn,” the lead inquired, stopping at a respectable distance. Their hands remained clear of their weapons.

Arionn shrugged. “I haven’t been sir anything,” he appraised the guard, “since before you were born.”

The guard nodded and retrieved a letter from his satchel. Extending it to Arionn, he continued without comment, “You’ve been recalled.”

Arionn took the envelope and glanced at Matthias. He’d been recalled? What of Matthias? The lad wouldn’t do well in exile on his own. But if she’d summoned Matthias too, what trouble awaited them?