Morgan Rhodes - Rebel Spring

“Not very hospitable a landscape, is it?”

On this much, they agreed. “No, it certainly isn’t.”

Small talk. Not his favorite pastime.

If they were to travel west, toward the Silver Sea, Paelsia would eventually become greener. That was where the locals planted their vineyards, the ones that grew such perfect grapes that they were sought after by every kingdom in the world for their wine. Every kingdom apart from Limeros, that was, which had forbidden intoxicating substances on orders of the king. The king had chosen not to create such laws in Auranos yet. To do so might very well tip Auranos to rebellion.

At the city of tents, they were greeted by a man with a bald head and a broad, greasy smile.

“This is such a great honor.” The man grasped Magnus’s gloved hand and kissed it. “Such a true honor to welcome you here, your highness.” He nodded. “And Lord Aron. I’ve been greatly anticipating your visit.”

“You are Xanthus?” Magnus asked.

The man’s eyes widened and he began to laugh. “Oh, no. I am merely Franco Rossatas, assistant engineer on this site.”

“ Assistant? Where is Xanthus?”

“In his private tent, where he spends most of his time, your highness. Since you arrived later than we expected, he would prefer to speak with you there at first light, as he’s already retired for the evening.”

Impatience ignited within Magnus to hear such irrelevant drivel. “I was told he would be meeting me upon my arrival and now I find that he’d prefer sleep over civility? What greeting is this for the son of the king to meet only with the assistant engineer after my long and arduous journey here?”

Franco swallowed hard. “I will be sure to inform Xanthus personally of your displeasure. In the meantime, if you please, your highness, allow me to take you to see our progress here on his behalf.”

For a moment, Magnus considered demanding that the sleeping fool be woken, but he held his tongue. Truth be told, he too was very tired. Perhaps their meeting could wait until tomorrow.

Franco led them to the road itself, explaining details as they walked and gesturing broadly with a flabby arm. Large swathes of mostly lifeless forest had been cut down to make way for the road. Trees with wide, brittle trunks lay throughout the camp like fallen giants. To the left the view was thick with sweaty, weary-looking men who toiled even in the darkness.

“Over here, we have men working constantly on the stonework,” he said, “which is a layer of the road, making it flat and easy for travel by wheeled vehicle.”

“Honestly, Franco,” Aron said with a sneer. “Such unnecessary explanations. Do you think Prince Magnus is a village idiot who doesn’t understand road construction?”

Franco blanched. “Of course not, my liege. I just wanted to explain it in a way that. . that. .”

“That even a village idiot could understand.” Aron took out one of his cigarillos, lighting it off a nearby torch.

“I meant no disrespect of course. I beg for your forgiveness.”

Magnus ignored the two and glanced off toward the clearing. The area was peppered with guards on foot and on horseback. A group of Paelsian slaves moved past where they stood, laden with heavy stones, their faces dirty, their clothes ripped. Those who didn’t glance toward their superiors with fear instead cast bold glares of hatred.

It was a very different sight than the road crew based in Auranos.

Magnus watched until they disappeared behind the farthest tent. “When do the slaves rest?”

“Rest?” Franco repeated. “When they drop.”

A young boy trudged past them with a stone that had to weigh half of what he did, his face a mask of pain and misery.

“How many have died?”

“Too many,” Franco said with annoyance. “Paelsians are supposed to be hearty people, but quite honestly, I’m less than impressed by what I’ve seen here. They’re lazy, selfish, and more often than not, only the whip will keep them focused.”

While unquestionably effective, Magnus had never been fond of the whip as a form of punishment. “I wonder how you’d fare with the same amount of work. Would you be hearty enough to handle the stresses of such a job without the threat of a whipping?”

Franco’s bushy brows moved upward, his face reddening. “Your grace, if it weren’t for such discipline there would be little chance that the road would be finished in the timeline Xanthus demands from us, especially this section into the mountains.”

“And is there any progress on the search?”

“Search?” The man frowned. “Search for what?”

“Never mind.”

It would appear that the assistant engineer did not know the true purpose for this road, other than its being. . a road. Such dangerous secrets would best remain hidden.

Aron’s gaze slid past Franco’s sweaty, pudgy face as they made their way back to the engineer’s tent. A pretty girl was moving toward the tent, her arms heavily laden with firewood. She had light brown hair that fell down her back. Her figure, beneath the simple dress she wore, was thin but shapely. She was daring enough to look directly at Magnus with curiosity in her eyes as she passed without a word.

“And who is that beautiful creature?” Aron asked.

Franco glanced toward the girl. “That is my daughter, Eugeneia.”

“Tell her to come here. I wish to be introduced to her.”

Franco hesitated, glancing briefly at Magnus.

Magnus nodded to give permission for more introductions and Franco called out to the girl. She put down her heavy load, brushed off her hands on the front of her dress, and came to join them as they entered Franco’s tent, shutting out some of the noise from outside.

“Yes, Father?”

“Eugeneia, I’d like you to meet our very important guests. This is Prince Magnus Damora and Lord Aron Lagaris.”

Surprise lit her gaze and she immediately curtseyed deeply. “A true honor.”

“Tell me, Eugeneia,” Aron said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her beauty up close, “how do you like spending so much time at this camp with your father?”

She flicked a glance toward Franco, then back at Aron. “May I be honest, Lord Aron?”

“Certainly.”

“I don’t care for it at all.”

Franco clucked with disapproval and reached for the girl as if to pull her backward. Aron held up his hand to stop him.

“What don’t you like?” he asked.

She studied the ground for a moment before raising her gaze to meet his. “My father is a brilliant engineer in his own right. It bothers me that he can make no decisions without approval from Xanthus, even if his decisions would improve things. It doesn’t make sense to have one cruel, brutish man in charge of everything with absolutely no one able to disagree with him!”

Franco drew her to his side, tightening his arm around her shoulders. “Hush, girl. Your opinions are not necessary or appreciated. Do you want to insult our guests?”

A flush spread across her cheeks. “Please forgive me. I forgot my manners for a moment there.”

“I appreciate your passion,” Aron said. “It’s so rare for someone to speak their mind so freely. It’s refreshing, I think.”

She bowed her head. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Franco, I have a request,” Aron said, his gaze still fixed on the girl.

“Yes?”

“I wish for your daughter to join me for a late meal in my tent.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and turned away.

“Tonight?”

“When else?”

Franco cleared his throat, looking flustered by the request. “I suppose that is all right then.”

“Father. .” Eugeneia began, her tone doubtful.

“You will go with him.” Franco’s double chins lifted as he nodded. “Lord Aron is kind enough to take notice of you. The least you can do is share a meal with him in gratitude for such an honor.”