Chapter 39 – Bareon, The City of Roses (1)

When the airship began its descent, Midhir felt his chest tighten. Previous worries resurfaced, clouding his mind. With a scowl, he watched the city appear beneath them.

Bareon was nestled between three distinct hills, surrounded by overgrown forest on all sides. Towards west, a path was cut through the overgrowth – the road leading to An’Larion, connecting the city with the rest of the Empire.

Midhir pursed his lips as he scoured the overgrowth below. Vast forests stretching to all sides. Just like in Lohssa, the forest was ancient, and fully overgrown, not allowing for much land to be reclaimed easily.

“According to my ancestor, Bareon was built on three hills, surrounded by vast fields.” Alistair solemnly spoke. “I can’t quite imagine what it looked like back then.”

Midhir nodded absentmindedly. He couldn’t either. The forest looked so old, older than Eldoria itself. It was hard to believe it wasn’t nearly as old or that there was a time it didn’t exist here.

The city itself still carried the scars of the disaster. The old palace ruins were left without repair, their dilapidated state clearly visible even from so high up. Other sections of the city had been repaired and rebuilt, but the difference in colour between the old and the new was clear.

The airship finally began to land, and soon gently settled into the water. Just like in An’Larion, the hangars in Bareon were filled with water to ease the landing and increase the longevity of ship hulls.

As the ship’s crew quickly prepared the ramp, Willow and Arwen returned to the open deck. “It was better than last time,” Arwen muttered quietly as they joined him and Alistair by the ramp. “But I still don’t like airships…” she added, still pale and unnerved.

“You’ll get used to it,” Alistair replied with a smile before turning his attention to Aodan. “Please lead the way.”

“Of course, young Lord.” The butler bowed, then walked off the ramp with a speed and balance impressive for his age.

They followed him out of the hanger, where a group of guards were waiting.

A woman stepped forward and bowed. “Lord Orlein!” she loudly spoke. “We will accompany you to the manor!”

Alistair nodded. “Thank you, Captain Rianne.”

As she led them out of the airway station, Midhir tilted his head. Rianne… it was a familiar ancestral name. Lord Andor detailed only a few people in his book, and one of them was Aislinn Rianne. She was depicted as a tall woman, with wavy brown hair and grey eyes. While he couldn’t see her eyes right now, her hair was brown, and she was quite tall.

He couldn’t help but wonder if she was Knight Aislinn’s descendant. The Rianne name was well known in some circles, but he had never gotten the chance to meet one during his training. His hands itched, but he suppressed the urge to challenge her. Now wasn’t the time.

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Instead, he directed his attention to their surroundings. Bareon was a beautiful city. Wide streets with flowerbeds full of red roses stretching on either side were surrounded by large, beautiful homes. As they walked through the streets the beautiful houses changed, they weren’t so large anymore, but smaller and older, made of larger stone bricks weathered over time. Still, roses decorated the city everywhere.

Midhir couldn’t help but feel like it was almost uncanny.

“It’s not called the City of Roses for nothing,” Willow quietly muttered as she paused to smell one of them. Her expression softened. “Beautiful,” she whispered.

While the city itself was quite big, the airway station wasn’t far from the Lord’s manor. Led there by Captain Rianne and Aodan, they soon arrived at the gates.

The manor was built on one of the three hills Bareon was perched on. A high fence surrounded the manor, with the only passage through being a large gate. While the fence seemed unsafe at first, as they approached the glimmer of gemstones embedded into the metal became apparent.

The gate was closely guarded, but they easily passed through in lieu of Alistair, and their escort.

The manor was large, but surprisingly modest considering it belonged to the Orlein family. The large gardens surrounding it were impressive and intriguing, since they were covered with beautiful white flowers instead of roses.

“Lord Orlein is waiting for you, young Lord,” Aodan spoke as they entered the manor.

The interior was somewhat lavishly decorated, with gold embossed vases filled with roses, and marble statues of ancestral figures lining the hallways. It was impeccably clean, and bright, with many large windows letting the sunlight in.

They eventually arrived by a pair of white doors, which Aodan gently knocked before opening. He stepped inside, then bowed. “My Lord, they have arrived.”

Alistair let out a sigh as he walked past Aodan, into Lord Orlein’s study. “Greetings, father.” He shot a glance over his shoulder, gesturing at them to follow him.

Midhir took a deep breath, his worries surfacing once again. With a tight chest and clenched jaw, he followed Alistair through the doors, then bowed deeply. Beside him, he noticed Willow and Arwen curtsy.

Lord Orlein was sat behind his desk. He was nearing his sixties, and his once blonde hair was now light grey. “Welcome home, son,” his voice was surprisingly gentle as he smiled, deepening the caresses on his face. “Lady Aulorn, it’s an honour to host you. Your father has aided Bareon and its provinces more times than I can count.”

“The honour is mine,” Willow smiled, but her motions were still, and her jaw tight.

“And you two as well,” Lord Orlein’s gaze turned to Arwen, then Midhir. His smile froze for a split second as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He bowed his head, “Welcome, both of you. I am grateful to Solus Academy for allowing me to borrow such skilled individuals.”

Relief washed over him. Not only had he received his letter, but he was also respecting his wishes. He was thankful to Lord Orlein, more than the old man could know.

“Surely you have been briefed about the issues we are facing,” Lord Orlein continued, occasionally glancing at Willow and Midhir. “There are unidentified individuals inside the city. We have been aware of them since about a fortnight ago, but until yesterday the only damage we suspect they had done was putting up some strange markings in the old palace ruins.”

“Until yesterday?” Midhir asked with a scowl. “Did something happen since then?”

While Willow shot him an odd glance, Lord Orlein nodded. “Indeed. Sometime before dawn, today, they burned down three buildings in the trade district, killing four civilians and injuring over three dozen of them.” He placed his palms on his desk and leaned forward. “That,” he took a deep breath, “is an act of terror.”