Chapter 67: The Forgotten Fortress
The road to Blackwood became worse with every mile.
Kael noticed it before anyone else commented because Selene Cor Aurelius had ruined his ability to look at a road without wondering who had built it, who maintained it, and where the water was supposed to go when it rained.
The broad Imperial route outside Aurelia had gradually narrowed after Bellhaven. Stone paving became scattered sections of compacted gravel, then packed earth reinforced only where wagon traffic was heaviest. Drainage ditches appeared inconsistently along the roadside, sometimes deep and properly graded, sometimes so clogged with leaves that they had become long pools of stagnant water.
Walter rode near one of the wagons and watched Kael studying the shoulder.
You’re doing it again.
Kael glanced over.
Doing what?
Judging the road.
I’m observing.
You’re frowning at mud.
The mud is poorly placed.
Walter stared at him.
That’s the saddest thing you’ve said all week.
Leon laughed from several lengths ahead.
Kael ignored both of them and returned his attention to the map Edwin had given him that morning.
They were still several days from Blackwood.
The most direct route would have kept them on the southern provincial road before turning west toward Blackwood’s boundary, but a washed-out crossing farther ahead had forced traffic onto an older Imperial route running along the edge of the Ironridge Hills.
The road had once been important.
That much was obvious from the remnants.
Old mile markers stood between trees that had grown around them. Stone drainage channels appeared beneath decades of soil. Every few miles they passed the foundations of roadside stations large enough to have once housed soldiers, horses, and passing officials.
Whatever the route had been built for, the Empire had stopped caring about it long ago.
Iris returned from scouting ahead.
Bridge is usable.
Kael looked up.
That sounded suspiciously positive coming from her.
How usable?
She considered.
One wagon at a time.
Walter sighed.
There it is.
Iris continued. Southern rail is gone. Two deck boards look rotten. The stone supports are fine from what I could see.
Kael looked toward Edwin.
Please don’t.
Edwin had not said anything.
You were about to tell me not to inspect it.
I was going to recommend that we cross before you decide to establish an engineering commission on the roadside.
Lily, riding beside the lead wagon, nodded.
I support Edwin.
Kael folded the map.
Everyone has become disrespectful since Aurelia.
Leon glanced back.
Since?
Kael decided he preferred silence.
They continued.
The forest thickened gradually as the road climbed.
Travelers became less common.
They passed one charcoal burner heading south, then two hunters carrying bundled pelts. After that, nearly an hour went by without another person appearing.
Kael noticed Iris looking into the trees more frequently.
Trouble?
Not yet.
That answer had become familiar enough to concern him.
What are you seeing?
Old tracks.
Human?
Mostly.
Mostly?
Iris pointed toward a muddy section below the road embankment.
Something heavy crossed there three or four days ago.
Kael could barely distinguish the impressions from churned mud.
Leon dismounted and crouched.
Horse?
Too wide.
Ox?
Could be.
Iris stepped down beside him.
No cart marks.
Walter leaned from his saddle.
A wild animal, then.
Possibly.
Kael smiled faintly.
Iris looked toward him.
Don’t.
I didn’t say anything.
You were thinking it.
Everyone had become intolerable.
They reached the old checkpoint shortly before midday.
It stood where the road narrowed between two rocky slopes.
Or what remained of it stood.
The gatehouse had partially collapsed. One of the watchtowers leaned outward far enough that Edwin refused to let anyone stand beneath it. The Imperial crest remained visible above the central arch, though weather had removed most of its painted color.
Walter dismounted.
This place hasn’t seen a maintenance crew since I had good knees.
You never had good knees, Lily said.
Walter looked offended.
I had excellent knees.
When?
Before your time.
Lily smiled.
Kael approached the gatehouse with Leon and Iris.
The old military architecture was different from Blackwood’s smaller fortifications. Thick stone. Narrow firing positions. A central road channel designed to force wagons through inspection one at a time.
Kael ran his fingers near the faded Imperial carving without touching the damaged stone.
When was this abandoned?
Edwin answered from behind him.
Officially? Nineteen years ago.
Kael looked back.
You know the place?
I know records.
Naturally.
Edwin continued. Ironridge Fortress once controlled this road and several eastern trade paths through the hills. Traffic declined after the southern highway expanded. The Crown reduced the garrison gradually, then transferred the remaining troops.
Reasonable.
On paper.
Kael caught the wording.
And unofficially?
Edwin shrugged.
I have never investigated it.
Leon moved toward one of the side walls.
Kael.
The tone changed the group immediately.
Leon crouched near the stone.
Several deep grooves cut diagonally across the lower wall.
Not tool marks.
At least not obvious ones.
Iris examined them.
Fresh?
No.
How old?
She looked toward the stone.
Harder to tell than tracks. Not recent enough for loose debris. Not twenty years old either unless the weather here is unusually kind.
Kael frowned.
Animal?
Possibly.
Walter groaned from behind them.
There it is again.
Iris ignored him.
The grooves were wide enough that Kael could fit several fingers inside one.
Whatever made them had been strong.
Or someone had wanted it to look that way.
Kael looked toward the old checkpoint.
Any records of monster activity along this route?
Edwin shook his head.
Not in anything I reviewed before leaving Aurelia.
That did not mean none existed.
Only that they did not have them.
Iris walked beyond the ruined gate.
Then stopped.
Tracks.
Kael joined her.
This time even he could see them.
Large depressions crossed one patch of mud beneath the leaning tower. Four distinct prints remained clear enough to suggest something heavy had moved through after the last rain.
Kael crouched without touching them.
How recent?
Iris studied the edges.
Less than two weeks. Maybe several days.
Leon frowned.
Heading where?
North-east.
Toward Ironridge.
Kael looked at the map.
The old fortress lay less than half a day away.
That did not make the tracks meaningful by itself.
Wildlife used abandoned places.
Bandits used abandoned places.
Travelers used whatever shelter existed when weather turned.
The fortress’s abandonment nineteen years ago and tracks from several days ago were not automatically connected.
He stood.
We don’t investigate because the place looks interesting.
Walter looked relieved.
Excellent.
Kael continued.
But if this road is currently being used by something large enough to leave those tracks, we should warn the next inhabited post.
Walter’s relief disappeared slightly.
Still reasonable.
Edwin opened the small travel ledger.
There is supposed to be a village called Mirewood three miles beyond the Ironridge junction.
Supposed to be?
The census copy is nine years old.
Kael sighed.
That was the kind of sentence that created work.
They found travelers before Mirewood.
Six wagons approached from the opposite direction.
Three merchant guards rode ahead, all armed but visibly tired. One wagon had a broken rear rail held together with rope, and two of the draft horses showed fresh scratches along their flanks.
The lead guard raised one hand.
Both groups slowed.
Recognition spread through the caravan once they saw Kael’s Imperial insignia.
A middle-aged merchant dismounted from the first wagon and bowed.
Your Highness.
Kael returned the greeting.
You know who I am?
The merchant smiled.
Your face isn’t famous yet. Your coat is.
Walter laughed.
Kael appreciated the distinction.
The merchant continued.
Though Bellhaven stories are already traveling.
Kael’s expression changed slightly.
Which version?
The man thought.
You fought a corrupted wolf larger than a cottage.
Leon coughed.
Kael looked toward him.
Don’t.
The merchant continued.
Another version says you purified every creature in the forest at once.
Definitely wrong.
I assumed.
Why?
The merchant looked at Leon’s bandaged shoulder.
Because your people still look like they actually fought.
Kael smiled faintly.
Better reasoning than most rumors.
The merchant’s name was Oren Mallick, a cloth and tool trader who had made the eastern route for nearly fifteen years.
Kael asked about the road.
Mallick’s expression became less amused.
Worse this season.
Maintenance?
Some.
Not enough.
Disruptions?
That’s the real problem.
He looked toward the hills.
Three wagons disappeared over the last two months.
Kael became still.
Disappeared?
Mallick nodded.
Different caravans. Small ones. No confirmed bodies.
Bandits?
Probably what everyone says.
But?
One of the merchant guards spoke.
Bandits steal cargo.
Kael turned toward him.
The guard continued. Nobody found abandoned wagons. No stripped crates. No dead animals. No ransom demands. Nothing showed up in the nearest markets.
That did not mean supernatural.
It meant unusual.
Kael asked,
Where?
The guard pointed toward the old northern junction.
Around Ironridge.
Walter looked toward Kael.
Don’t.
Kael ignored him.
Any survivors?
One.
That changed everything.
Where?
Mirewood.
The guard glanced toward Mallick, then continued.
Caravan scout named Cale Fenner. He came back on foot after three days. Doesn’t remember much.
Injured?
Not badly.
What happened?
The guard shook his head.
Depends when you ask him.
Sometimes he says they heard someone calling from the forest.
Sometimes he says there were lights near the fortress.
Sometimes he refuses to talk about it.
Kael looked toward Iris.
Her expression had sharpened.
Mallick crossed his arms.
People now say Ironridge is cursed.
Walter muttered,
Of course they do.
Kael asked,
Do you believe that?
Mallick shrugged.
I believe three caravans are gone and I’m taking the southern road home even if it adds two days.
That was practical enough.
Kael nodded.
Thank you.
The merchant hesitated.
Are you going there?
We’re going to Mirewood.
Not the fortress?
Kael looked toward the hills.
Not until we know why we’d need to.
Walter visibly relaxed again.
The merchant returned to his wagon.
Before leaving, he looked toward Kael once more.
Your Highness.
Yes?
Bellhaven.
Kael waited.
Mallick smiled faintly.
People aren’t calling you the People’s Prince. Not yet, anyway.
Kael stared.
Walter looked disappointed.
Mallick continued.
But they’re talking about you.
That’s already enough trouble.
The merchant laughed and climbed aboard.
Kael liked him.
Mirewood existed.
That was the first good sign.
The village sat along a bend in a narrow river, surrounded by lumber yards, smokehouses, and small farms that had been carved out of the forest over several generations. It was smaller than Bellhaven, perhaps one hundred fifty permanent residents.
Unlike Bellhaven, nothing had recently attacked it.
Children still ran along the riverbank.
A sawmill worked near the eastern crossing.
No smoke rose from burned houses.
Kael felt himself relax slightly.
The village headwoman introduced herself as Hella Dorran.
She was fifty, broad-shouldered, and immediately suspicious of why an Imperial prince had appeared on a deteriorating trade road.
Kael respected that.
He explained.
Old checkpoint.
Unusual tracks.
Missing caravans.
Ironridge.
Hella’s expression tightened at the final name.
There it is.
What?
The reason you’re really here.
Kael shook his head.
I was going home.
She stared.
Actually.
Edwin nodded.
He was.
Hella looked almost disappointed.
Kael continued. We met merchants who mentioned the disappearances. I want to understand whether travelers are in danger before deciding anything else.
Hella glanced toward his coat.
You have authority?
Limited inspection authority for assigned Imperial matters.
Is this assigned?
No.
That answer seemed to satisfy her more than claiming broad power would have.
Then what can you do?
Ask questions. Report what we find. Help if there’s an immediate danger. Not take over your village.
Hella nodded slowly.
Good beginning.
Kael sighed.
This really has spread everywhere.
Hella smiled.
Bellhaven trader came through before dawn.
Of course.
Cale Fenner lived with his sister near the western edge of Mirewood.
Kael did not bring the whole party.
Only Iris, Leon, and Hella.
Edwin remained with the wagons. Lily went to purchase food and somehow became involved in an argument over flour prices within ten minutes.
Cale was younger than Kael expected.
Perhaps twenty-six.
Thin.
Tired.
No obvious injuries except a badly healed cut above one eyebrow.
He did not bow when Kael entered.
Hella started to correct him.
Kael stopped her.
It’s fine.
Cale looked toward his insignia.
You’re the prince from Bellhaven.
Apparently.
Did you kill the giant wolf?
We damaged a magical control mark. The wolf survived.
Cale stared.
That’s not how I heard it.
Kael sighed.
I know.
The normality of that exchange eased something in the man’s posture.
Kael sat across from him.
I want to ask about Ironridge.
Cale looked away immediately.
You and everyone else.
I don’t need a good story.
That made him look back.
Kael continued. I need what you actually remember, including the parts you’re unsure about.
Cale’s jaw tightened.
Then don’t call me mad when it sounds wrong.
I won’t.
No promise to believe everything either.
Cale almost smiled.
Fair.
He began.
Their caravan had four wagons traveling south with iron tools, salt, cloth, and lamp oil. Five guards. Two merchants. Three drivers.
They reached the old Ironridge junction shortly before evening.
One wagon axle cracked.
Nothing strange so far.
They decided to camp rather than risk continuing after dark.
Kael asked,
At the fortress?
No.
Old checkpoint below the hill.
Same one we passed?
Cale nodded.
Then what?
The first strange thing happened after midnight.
A voice.
Leon leaned forward slightly.
Whose?
Cale looked toward the floor.
My brother’s.
Hella became quiet.
Kael asked carefully,
Your brother was with you?
No.
Alive?
Cale swallowed.
Dead six years.
That complicated things.
Kael did not react beyond writing the detail mentally.
Where did the voice come from?
Forest.
What did it say?
My name.
Only your name?
At first.
Cale rubbed both hands together.
Then it told me to come help him.
I knew it wasn’t him.
How?
Because I buried him.
Good answer.
Cale continued.
One of the guards heard his mother’s voice. Another heard someone he wouldn’t name.
Kael’s attention sharpened.
Multiple people heard different voices?
Yes.
At the same time?
Close enough.
Did everyone hear something?
I don’t know.
What did you do?
We stayed by the fires.
Then?
Cale’s breathing changed.
Lights appeared near the fortress.
What kind?
Blue.
Where?
Watchtower.
How many?
One. Then two. Then maybe more.
Iris asked,
Did the lights move like lanterns?
Cale thought.
Not exactly.
Could someone have carried them?
Maybe.
Kael appreciated the answer.
Then what happened?
Cale went quiet.
Hella sat beside him.
Tell him the part you told me.
Cale looked toward her.
I don’t remember leaving camp.
Kael said nothing.
Cale continued.
One moment I was beside the wagon.
Then I woke near the river north of Mirewood.
Three days later?
Two and a half, according to Hella.
Any wounds?
Scratches. Dehydration. Nothing else.
What happened to the caravan?
Never found.
Iris frowned.
No wagon tracks leaving the checkpoint?
Cale shook his head.
They found ours leading in. After that, rain ruined most of the ground.
Kael leaned back.
Drug?
Cale looked confused.
Kael corrected himself.
Poisoned food? Smoke? Magic causing sleep?
Hella answered.
We checked the supplies he carried. Nothing obvious.
Kael nodded.
That did not rule it out.
He looked toward Cale.
Have you gone back?
No.
Would you?
Absolutely not.
Fair.
Outside, Leon spoke first.
Magic.
Iris shook her head.
Possible magic.
Leon looked toward Kael.
You’re both unbearable.
Kael considered what Cale had described.
Different voices tailored to different listeners.
Memory loss.
Unexplained lights.
Missing caravans.
One survivor.
No bodies.
That was enough to justify caution.
Not ghosts.
Not curses.
Caution.
Hella stood with them.
So?
Kael looked toward her.
How close is Ironridge?
Two hours on foot from the old checkpoint. Less if you’re stupid on horseback.
Walter would appreciate her.
Any villagers go there?
Not anymore.
Because of Cale?
Because of older stories too.
What stories?
Hella sighed.
You won’t like them.
Try me.
She pointed north.
Ironridge was abandoned before I became headwoman. The official story said trade declined.
That’s what we heard.
My father served supply wagons there before the closure.
Kael’s attention sharpened.
Did he know why it emptied?
He said soldiers started getting sick.
Sick how?
Sleepwalking. Night terrors. Hearing things.
Leon stopped smiling.
Deaths?
A few accidents.
Confirmed?
Hella shook her head.
Not by records I have.
Then why close the fortress?
She shrugged.
My father said the Army reduced the garrison first. Then one winter they transferred everyone still there and locked the place.
That was more useful than rumor.
Kael looked toward Edwin’s direction.
We need the historical military records.
Hella stared.
You have those with you?
No.
Then?
Kael touched the black inspection writ beneath his coat.
This matter isn’t assigned to me.
Yet.
Leon sighed.
Here it comes.
Kael ignored him.
But disappearing Imperial-route caravans and an abandoned Imperial fortress with possible recurring magical incidents are enough to report to Aurelia and request authorization.
Hella nodded.
That’s more sensible than going inside.
Exactly.
Iris looked disappointed.
Kael stared at her.
You’re not going inside alone.
I didn’t say anything.
You were thinking it.
She smiled.
They would have continued west the following morning.
That remained the plan until Iris returned from an evening scout carrying a piece of fabric.
Dark blue.
Heavy weave.
Military.
At least possibly.
She placed it on the village hall table.
Found where?
Kael asked.
North junction.
How recent?
Caught on a thorn. No weather fading. Days, maybe a week.
Imperial?
Leon examined it.
Could be old uniform cloth.
Could be modern travel coat.
Iris nodded.
Then she placed something else beside it.
A metal button.
Blackened with age.
Imperial dragon.
Edwin leaned closer.
That design is old.
How old?
He turned it between gloved fingers.
At least several decades.
Cale’s missing caravan was two months ago.
Correct.
So not necessarily connected.
Correct.
Kael frowned.
Everyone was learning too well.
Edwin continued.
But this may help establish whether old military material remains around the site.
Iris looked toward Kael.
I also saw smoke.
The room changed.
Where?
Ironridge.
Hella stood.
Smoke?
One thin column from inside the western wall. Lasted several minutes.
Kael looked toward Iris.
Campfire?
Possible.
Forest fire?
No.
How many people?
Didn’t approach close enough to confirm.
That answer pleased him.
Iris noticed.
Say it and I leave.
Kael remained silent.
The decision changed.
Not investigate the fortress completely.
Establish whether someone currently occupied it.
That was narrower.
Safer.
Necessary.
If bandits had taken Ironridge, travelers needed warning.
If displaced families were sheltering there, that was different.
If a magical threat existed, they needed evidence before sending more people onto the road.
Kael met with Hella, Edwin, Iris, Leon, and the two remaining Imperial riders still accompanying the wagons.
Walter insisted on attending.
Lily attended because nobody could stop her.
Kael spread the local map across the table.
We approach tomorrow morning.
Walter pointed.
And we enter?
No.
Walter looked relieved.
We observe first.
Iris nodded.
Two groups?
Kael considered.
No. Stay together until we understand the perimeter.
Leon pointed toward the southern slope.
Old military maps would likely put the main gate here.
Edwin nodded.
The fortress had three access routes historically. Main southern gate, service road east, narrow military path west.
How do you know?
I read.
Walter groaned.
Kael continued.
Nobody enters if we see signs of an active garrison-sized occupation.
Leon nodded.
Bandits?
Observe numbers. Withdraw. Report.
Magic?
Withdraw unless somebody is in immediate danger.
Iris raised an eyebrow.
That’s cautious.
Bellhaven hurt.
Reasonable.
Kael looked around.
No heroics.
Everyone looked at him.
Kael frowned.
Why are you all looking at me?
Walter answered.
Statistical likelihood.
Kael hated them.
Ironridge Fortress appeared shortly before noon.
The forest opened gradually into a rocky valley, and the fortress rose from a hill at its center.
Kael stopped.
Even abandoned, it was enormous.
Dark stone walls followed the natural shape of the hill. Four major towers overlooked the surrounding roads. The southern gate stood between two reinforced bastions large enough to hold siege engines.
Vines covered portions of the wall.
Several upper battlements had collapsed.
Trees grew inside what had once been the outer training yard.
Kael understood immediately why the Empire had built there.
Three trade routes met within sight of the hill.
Restore the fortress, and someone could monitor movement across the entire region.
Walter whistled.
How many soldiers?
Edwin studied the walls.
At full capacity, perhaps three thousand comfortably. More during wartime.
Kael frowned.
The original rumor of five thousand was possible in emergency crowding, but not needed. Keep grounded.
No one should abandon that just because trade declined.
Edwin glanced toward him.
Maintaining several thousand soldiers also costs money.
Fair.
Iris crouched near the path.
Fresh prints.
Everyone stopped.
Human?
Yes.
How many?
At least four. Maybe six. Hard ground beyond this point.
Boots?
Yes.
Military?
No clear pattern.
Kael looked toward the fortress.
Someone was there.
That changed the situation.
They advanced only far enough to see the southern gate.
It hung partly open.
Not broken recently.
One hinge had failed years ago, leaving the enormous iron-bound door angled inward.
No guards stood outside.
No smoke visible now.
No bodies.
Iris raised one hand.
Movement.
Where?
Top tower.
Kael followed her gaze.
For several seconds he saw nothing.
Then a figure stepped into view along the highest western battlement.
Human shape.
Armor.
Kael narrowed his eyes.
Too far for details.
Leon moved beside him.
Soldier?
Maybe.
The figure stood still.
Watching them.
Walter lifted one hand before anyone could stop him.
Hello!
Kael stared.
What?
Walter asked.
The figure did not react.
Iris frowned.
No bow.
No weapon raised either.
Kael studied the silhouette.
Armor caught the daylight strangely.
Old-fashioned perhaps.
Or merely damaged.
Edwin spoke quietly.
Do not decide it’s ancient because you want it to be interesting.
Kael glanced over.
I didn’t.
You were about to.
The figure moved.
One arm lifted.
Not a wave.
A point.
Toward the gate.
Leon frowned.
Invitation?
Could be warning.
Could be pointing at something.
Walter lowered his hand.
I liked my interpretation better.
Then the figure disappeared from view.
Not magically.
It simply stepped backward behind the battlement.
Kael waited.
Nothing.
The System appeared.
[Unidentified Armed Individual Observed]
Location: Ironridge Fortress western tower.
Classification: Unknown.
Threat: Undetermined.
Recommended action: Gather additional information before entry.
Kael dismissed it.
For once the System’s advice matched everyone’s expression.
Iris looked toward the hill.
I can circle west and—
No.
She sighed.
Kael continued.
We know someone is inside. That’s enough for today.
Leon looked toward the fortress.
You really aren’t entering?
Not without knowing who controls it.
Walter nodded firmly.
Excellent leadership.
Kael ignored him.
Edwin pointed toward a flat ridge half a mile south.
Camp there?
Kael considered the distance.
Visible from fortress?
Yes.
Defensible?
Moderately.
Good.
Walter stared.
He said it.
Kael closed his eyes.
The camp was established before afternoon faded.
Not a military encampment large enough to threaten the fortress.
A travel camp.
Wagons positioned defensively.
Horses tied inside the perimeter.
Two rotating watches.
No unnecessary fires after dark.
Iris spent the remaining daylight observing the fortress from a rocky position with Leon.
Kael wrote.
One report to Chancellor Vester.
Another to the regional military office.
He kept both narrow.
Ironridge Fortress appears to have current occupants despite its abandoned status. Human tracks observed at multiple approaches. One armed individual seen on western tower. Recent smoke observed within walls. Local testimony connects current caravan disappearances with the Ironridge road, though direct connection to fortress occupants remains unproven.
Then the historical concern.
Local oral testimony claims the former garrison experienced sleep disturbances, unexplained auditory phenomena, and gradual reduction before closure approximately nineteen years ago. Verification through military archives requested.
No cursed fortress.
No ghost soldier.
No voices from dead relatives written as fact.
Just testimony.
Edwin read the draft.
Approved.
Kael stared.
No criticism?
One.
Of course.
Change suspicious disappearance to unexplained disappearance.
Kael looked.
Why?
Because suspicious already tells the reader what emotional conclusion to carry.
Kael changed it.
Anything else?
No.
He leaned back.
I feel empty.
You’ll recover.
Night settled over the valley.
Ironridge became a black shape against a darker sky.
No lights appeared in the towers.
No voices crossed the distance.
Nothing supernatural happened.
That somehow made sleeping harder.
Kael sat near the smallest permitted fire with Walter and Lily while Leon remained on first watch.
Walter poked at the coals.
So we’re not going in.
Not tonight.
Tomorrow?
Depends what we learn.
Walter sighed.
I hate that answer.
Lily smiled.
You’ve been traveling with him too long.
Kael looked toward Ironridge.
If there are people inside, they know we’re here.
Definitely, Walter said.
If they’re bandits, they may leave overnight.
Or attack us.
Lily looked at him.
Thank you, Walter.
I’m helping.
Kael continued.
If they’re legitimate travelers or squatters, maybe they’ll approach.
If they don’t?
Then we observe again in daylight and decide whether closer contact is justified.
Walter studied him.
You really did change in Aurelia.
Kael looked over.
How?
Old you would’ve walked straight through the gate by now.
That was uncomfortable.
Kael looked back toward the fortress.
Old me would’ve thought being brave meant going inside first.
And now?
Now I think being responsible means understanding who else pays for it if I’m wrong.
Walter nodded slowly.
Then smiled.
Still boring.
Kael laughed.
The second watch woke them shortly after midnight.
Not with an alarm.
A whisper.
Your Highness.
Kael opened his eyes.
Iris crouched beside him.
Something happened.
He sat up.
Attack?
No.
Movement?
Yes.
Where?
Tower.
Kael stood carefully.
Leon joined them.
Together they moved to the southern observation point without lighting anything.
The fortress stood beneath moonlight.
At first Kael saw nothing.
Then Iris pointed.
Highest western tower.
A pale light appeared behind one of the broken openings.
Blue.
Very faint.
Kael felt his stomach tighten.
Cale’s story.
Blue lights.
Leon whispered,
Lantern?
Maybe.
Mage-light?
Maybe.
Kael did not like hearing his own vocabulary used against him.
The light moved.
Not quickly.
It crossed one opening.
Disappeared.
Appeared in another below.
Someone descending stairs.
That was what it looked like.
Then a second light appeared farther east.
Walter, who had followed despite being told nothing, whispered,
Two people?
Possibly.
Kael counted the seconds.
The first light vanished near the courtyard level.
The second remained above.
No chanting.
No spectral screams.
Nothing.
Just lights moving in an abandoned fortress after midnight.
Then Leon stiffened.
There.
A figure had appeared outside the main gate.
Kael narrowed his eyes.
This one was close enough to see more.
A man.
Or someone shaped like one.
He wore armor.
Dark.
Old style, Edwin had said the previous silhouette might be.
The figure walked several steps beyond the gate and stopped.
No weapon visible in hand.
Kael’s fingers tightened near his sword.
Iris whispered,
Don’t call out.
Walter looked offended.
I learned.
The figure stood beneath moonlight.
Then slowly removed his helmet.
Kael could not see the face clearly at this distance.
Only pale hair.
The man looked directly toward their camp.
Then raised both empty hands.
Not surrender.
A deliberate display that he carried no drawn weapon.
Leon exhaled.
He wants to talk.
Maybe.
Kael looked toward Iris.
Anyone around him?
Not visible.
Ambush positions?
Always possible.
Kael thought.
Going alone would be stupid.
Sending someone else to take the risk for him simply because he was a prince would also be wrong if Kael intended to lead the contact.
They needed middle ground.
Kael looked toward Leon.
You, me, Iris.
Walter started.
No.
I didn’t say anything.
You were about to.
Lily appeared behind him.
I’m staying.
Yes.
She looked surprised that he agreed.
Edwin woke near the wagons.
Kael explained quickly.
Then added,
If we’re not back within fifteen minutes, you leave.
Walter stared.
Leave?
South to Mirewood. Do not come rescue us.
That went over badly.
Edwin nodded.
Correct.
Walter looked betrayed.
Kael continued.
If this is an ambush strong enough to take three of us without warning, sending everyone else into the same place only creates more prisoners.
Walter hated it.
He understood.
Fine.
Kael tightened his coat.
They moved.
Kael, Leon, and Iris stopped well outside bow range of the fortress gate.
The armored man did not approach farther.
Good.
Kael called first.
Name yourself.
The man’s answer carried across the quiet road.
Sir Corren Valehart.
Kael became still.
Leon looked toward him.
He knew the name.
Not personally.
From records.
Sir Corren Valehart had appeared in earlier Imperial military documents Kael had reviewed during the capital arc.
Kael called,
House?
None.
Service?
Former Imperial garrison.
Which garrison?
Ironridge.
Kael looked toward Leon.
That was impossible only if the man’s age matched the claim.
The figure continued before Kael asked.
I know what you’re thinking.
Kael called back.
That’s unlikely.
The man’s laugh was faint.
Fair.
He stepped several paces closer to the moonlight.
Kael could see his face better.
Older.
Perhaps sixty.
Not twenty.
Not a centuries-old ghost.
That immediately improved the situation.
Ironridge was abandoned nineteen years ago.
Sir Corren answered.
Yes.
Then you served before closure.
Eleven years.
Why are you here now?
Silence.
Kael waited.
Sir Corren looked back toward the fortress.
Because someone started using it again.
That changed everything.
Kael’s voice sharpened.
Who?
I don’t know their names.
How many?
Usually fewer than ten.
Usually?
They come and go.
Bandits?
No.
How do you know?
Because bandits want money.
Kael felt the echo of the merchant guard’s words.
What do these people want?
Sir Corren looked toward the dark walls.
Something beneath Ironridge.
Kael became very still.
Leon whispered,
Of course.
Kael ignored him.
What is beneath it?
Sir Corren answered.
That’s why I stayed.
Kael frowned.
You have been living inside an abandoned fortress for nineteen years?
No.
A pause.
Twelve.
That was somehow only slightly better.
Why?
Sir Corren looked toward him.
Because when Ironridge was abandoned, the official report lied.
Kael’s hand moved unconsciously toward the black inspection writ beneath his coat.
Finally.
Not an answer.
A reason to investigate.
Sir Corren continued.
The garrison wasn’t transferred because trade declined.
Kael waited.
The old knight’s face became harder.
We were transferred because soldiers started hearing voices inside the eastern tower.
Nobody spoke.
Sir Corren continued.
Then men began disappearing.
Kael thought of Cale Fenner.
Caravans.
Memory loss.
Blue lights.
He still refused to connect them automatically.
But the similarities now deserved more attention.
Kael called,
And you came back twelve years ago because?
Sir Corren’s gaze remained steady.
Because one of the men who disappeared was my younger brother.
That was personal.
Not proof.
Kael asked,
Did you find him?
No.
Then why stay?
Sir Corren looked toward the fortress gate.
Because three months ago, after twelve years of silence, I heard his voice again.
The valley seemed colder.
Not magically.
Kael’s body simply reacted.
Leon whispered,
I officially dislike this place.
Iris remained focused.
Kael asked the question that mattered.
Why did you point toward the gate earlier?
Sir Corren answered.
Because if you’re truly Augustus’s son, there are records inside you need to see before whoever returned to Ironridge destroys them.
Kael stared.
How do you know who I am?
Sir Corren looked toward the Imperial clasp on his coat.
You’re not traveling subtly.
Fair.
The old knight continued.
I saw the black inspection token when you rode through the lower road this afternoon.
Kael’s attention sharpened.
That should have been hidden.
He had shown it briefly while discussing the report with Edwin near camp.
Sir Corren had been watching more closely than Kael liked.
Then the knight said something else.
And because I served the Empire long enough to recognize Asterion eyes.
Kael almost sighed.
Crimson eyes, presumably. Not magical identification.
Sir Corren replaced his helmet under one arm.
Come at dawn.
Not tonight.
Why?
The knight looked toward the fortress.
Because the voices are stronger after dark.
Then he turned.
Kael called,
Wait.
Sir Corren stopped.
If you want us to trust you, don’t disappear dramatically.
For several seconds the old knight said nothing.
Then he laughed.
I’m walking through the gate, Your Highness.
Good.
Sir Corren did exactly that.
No vanishing.
No magical fading.
He walked back into Ironridge Fortress.
Kael watched until the darkness swallowed him.
Leon looked over.
Dawn?
Kael considered.
Yes.
Iris nodded.
With precautions.
Absolutely.
Leon smiled faintly.
Darius really did change you.
Kael looked toward the fortress.
Maybe.
Then he thought of the old knight’s words.
The report lied.
Men disappeared.
Voices beneath Ironridge.
Unknown people searching for something inside.
Those claims might be true.
Some might be wrong.
Some might be shaped by twelve years of obsession.
Tomorrow they would find out what evidence survived inside the forgotten fortress.
Kael turned toward camp.
For now, nobody enters.
Iris sighed.
Again?
Especially now.
They returned to the wagons beneath the dark silhouette of Ironridge.
High above them, a faint blue light crossed one tower window and vanished.
Kael saw it.
So did Leon.
Neither called it a ghost.
Not yet.