The Greyfield Chronicles

The nobility had a solemn duty to take care of the lands and people they ruled over. That was what Venza Greyfield's father always said, and what his father said, and what his father’s father said. It was something she'd taken to heart. It was why she waited patiently in the carriage with her father as they made their way to Rentley, a frontier town at the edge of the Odolenian Empire.

Even if she was bored stiff.

Her father struck an imposing figure on the opposite seat, built like a wall and decked out in the fine dark metal armor worn only by someone in his station. Lord Lucius of House Greyfield was not just any member of the nobility. He was the Lord Marshall of the Odolenian Empire. In war time, the Empire's armies followed only the Emperor himself over him.

His bright red hair, a trait that he'd passed on to her, shone faintly in the late morning sun as he peeked out their carriage's window. They'd left home just as dawn broke, so the trip hadn't taken too long. The Greyfields, despite their contributions to Odolenia, did not rule as much land or people as some of the other highborn families of the Empire. It made keeping watch of their holdings comparatively easier.

"You're sure you're alright there, Scamp?" her father asked her. "You didn't have to come with me, you know."

"We take care of our people," she answered. "This is part of my duty."

Lucius smiled behind his beard, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Bold words for a nine year old girl."

Venza opened her mouth to argue, but knew by now whatever she said would be met with something like 'You're adorable,' or 'You'll grow out of it someday.'

When her father saw her annoyed face, he quickly added, "But thank you for coming along. This inspection is very important."

Venza nodded, though she knew he was lying. Rentley was a frontier town of little importance, surrounded on all sides by thick forest and the ruins of previous attempts to settle it. No one in the Empire actually expected this attempt to fare any better.

They'd come with a company of almost a hundred soldiers, knowing the frontier was uncharted territory at the southern tip of the Empire with all manner of monsters lurking in the wilderness.

In comparison, the thirty or so militia guarding Rentley may as well have been scarecrows. That was the irony of her father being Lord Marshall: In times of war, Lucius commanded all the armies pledged to the Empire. In times of peace, the Greyfields had very few soldiers they could actually command. It made keeping their lands safe against monsters and bandits quite an undertaking.

It was just short of noon when their carriage stopped at Rentley's gate. As an outpost on the dangerous frontier, they'd at least built walls to protect themselves, even if said walls were made of logs and manned by only a few archers.

Venza had her first look at Rentley: A scattering of small wooden houses surrounded by a flimsy wooden wall, save for the gathering hall which, while simple and only two stories, was at least made of stone.

Her father helped her out of the carriage, and soon she was standing in the center of the small frontier town. The air gave her chills despite the thick traveling shirt and breeches she'd opted to wear. Odolenia was largely hot and humid, particularly in the capital, but out here, people needed to dress warmly.

"The garrison is ready for inspection, Lord Marshall," a tall, slim man with a well-kept mustache saluted as Lucius approached the gathering hall. He wore the gray uniform of House Greyfield's standing army, the Grey Guard.

"Lord Marshall?" Venza's father echoed with distaste, though he returned the salute. "What's with the formal nonsense, Adam?"

The man, Adam Vosmer, snorted and then clicked his tongue. "Now, now. This is an official inspection. We need to keep up appearances." He turned to Venza. "And how are you, young lady? Did you get bored in the carriage with just this old man for company?"

Venza smiled. She'd always liked Vosmer. When she'd asked her father for a fencing tutor and he'd refused, Vosmer taught her the basics of self-defense, anyway. In secret. Naturally, her parents found out eventually anyway. They did not approve.

"The view was interesting, at least," Venza said. "Mother never lets me out of the house."

"A shame, that," Vosmer spoke. He glanced at Lucius, seeming to silently ask if he'd do something about that, but her father was nothing if not stoic. "Well, come along then. They've prepared a welcome feast for us."

"Good. I'm starving," Lucius said before wrapping an arm around Vosmer's shoulder and dragging him off.

Venza followed in their wake, taking in the (admittedly limited) sights and sounds of Rentley's gathering hall. A single, large chamber where meetings took place occupied most of the space, though she spotted a pair of doors on one end that she presumed went to other rooms.

A large hearth blazed with warmth on the far side of the hall, and Venza welcomed it. She rather disliked the unfamiliar chill out here.

The wooden tables and chairs the settlers used for their meetings had been rearranged to accommodate their company into a sort of makeshift mess hall. The smell of slow-roasted meats filtered into her nostrils, and Venza realized that she, too, was starving.

"Welcome, Lord Greyfield and company!" a man spoke, saluting them, his fist over his heart. He'd been standing near one of the doors at the far end. He had a wide face, and seemed to be missing all of his hair, though he seemed physically fit at least, judging by how well his brown robes wrapped around his body. He extended a hand in greeting.

"Constable," Lucius greeted in turn, taking the bald man's hand. "Thank you for having us." His face split into a wide grin. "Whatever you've got cooking smells great."

"Only the best for your Lordship," the constable answered. Venza thought she might've recognized him from home, though she couldn't be sure. Father certainly seemed to have forgotten his name.

"Good to see you, Johnson," Vosmer said, likely thinking the same thing Venza was. He and Lucius had been through a lot together, after all. She doubted her father would've been quite as successful as he was without Adam Vosmer at his side.

"Sergeant Vosmer," Constable Johnson said in turn. "Ah, sorry. I heard it's Lieutenant now? Congratulations."

Vosmer brushed him off. "Thank you, but there's no need to stand on ceremony."

Venza rolled her eyes. So much for this being a formal inspection and keeping up appearances. The constable seemed to notice her behind his two superiors, and smiled. "Is that-"

"Aye," Lucius spoke. "It's little Venza. You haven't seen her in, how many is it now?" He trailed off.

"Heir Greyfield," Johnson said by way of greeting. "I haven't seen you in three years. Do you remember me?"

"Of course I do, Constable Johnson," Venza lied, returning his smile. Lying was bad. Unduly embarrassing someone in public was worse. At least that's what her tutors told her. "Thank you for having us. Has Rentley been treating you well?"

"Oh, just fine, Heir Greyfield," the constable answered, turning back to her father. "And where is Lady Greyfield?"

"Not here," Lucius answered easily. "She needs her rest, as you know."

"Oh, of course. Forgive me, Lord," Johnson spoke, though Lucius waved it off. It was easy for others to forget her mother had a condition, considering how rarely she was seen outside the house.

The four of them sat at a single table along with other figures of import from the settlement, though Venza quickly forgot their names and faces. She met a lot of people as the sole heir to the Greyfield name, and while she knew she should, she simply couldn't remember them all. Besides, it wasn't like they were paying her much mind. They were nice to her, naturally, since her father ruled over them and defended the realm, but beyond that? She might as well have been invisible.

They had roasted fowl with vegetables and rice, washed down by freshly-squeezed fruit juice. The people at their table seemed to alternate between trying to sound important and flattering her father. She figured they'd realized what a bad deal they'd gotten being posted out in the sticks and wanted back into civilization.

When lunch was ended, Venza eagerly followed her father into the constable's office, only for him to stop her at the door.

"Now, now, scamp," he said, not unkindly. "This is official business. I'll take it from here."

"But Father-" she began to protest, but he shook his head with finality.

"Perhaps when you're older," he said. "Go explore Rentley for now. Meet the people."

Understanding their subjects was one of a ruling family's duties, but she couldn't help but feel like a child being told to run off and play. "Yes, sir." She gave him the customary salute, her fist over her heart, and retreated into the mess hall.

She encountered Vosmer, who'd slipped away for a bit before lunch ended. He seemed on his way to the meeting room. She jerked her thumb behind her as if to say 'Yep, he's in there.'

He gave her a reassuring smile. "He'll let you in someday. Just keep at it."

Venza nodded. Who else was he going to groom to take care of their lands and their people? She had no siblings and her mother seemingly couldn't make any more.

As Vosmer entered the meeting room, Venza turned around and left to explore the town like her Lord Father had suggested. The soldiers had largely left, off to inspect the settlement's defenses and supplies to report later. Rentley was largely self-sufficient, partly because few traders bothered to come so far, not when the settlement was so small and the road so perilous.

Venza smacked her lips, decided she needed something sweet to go with the savory lunch she'd eaten, and headed out to see what the frontier town had to offer.

The chill air outside reminded her she wanted something both sweet and warm. She spotted a woman who seemed to be selling flowers in front of the gathering hall and approached her. "Excuse me, miss?"

The woman, who had short blond hair and freckles all over her face, beamed at her. "Oh, aren't you just the cutest? Would you like a flower?"

"Afraid I've no use for flowers, ma'am," Venza answered, though she kept her tone polite. "I'd pay for information, though. Is there anywhere I could get sweets around here, preferably freshly baked?"

Realization seemed to dawn on the woman's face. "Hang on. You're not from around here, are you?"

Venza thought that would've been obvious, given how she was asking directions, but she nodded. "Correct. I arrived this morning with the convoy."

"Well, my sister runs a bakery behind the gathering hall," she said. "Do you need me to walk you there or-"

"That won't be necessary, ma'am," Venza spoke quickly. "I'm sure I can find it on my own. Thanks."

She took a silver coin out of her pocket and gave it to the woman before making a quick getaway.

"A whole silver?" the flower seller called behind her. "This is too much!"

Venza pretended not to hear her and continued walking.

"Ask for the baker's secret!" the woman yelled. Venza gave a thumbs up without looking back, wondering what that was about. Oh well. She'd find out.

She passed a chapel dedicated to the the Four. She deliberated popping inside to pray for a safe journey, and made her decision not to when the smell of baked goods reached her nostrils.

She made the Sign of the Four with her hands without so much as a prayer then headed off to find sweets.

The bakery was a cute little single-story building made of wood, though she suspected not entirely, or it might burn down. Most of it was open, which revealed a single stone oven that blew smoke out of its chimney.

Venza smiled to herself and approached when something caught her ear.

"Witch!" she heard a child's voice say, a short distance away.

"Get out of here, witch!" another one seemed to answer.

Venza stopped in her tracks. The voices were coming from behind one of the many little houses in Rentley. She supposed it was her duty to check it out, so she did, if only to sate her curiosity. She didn't think an actual witch would somehow be in Rentley, after all. The settlers would've reported that first thing.

Following the voices that seemed to taunt a 'witch' and hearing no rebuttal whatsoever, Venza crept close to the wall, peering around the corner to find a most unexpected scene.

Two large boys, roughly around her age or maybe a bit older, and even taller girl with uneven blond pigtails, loomed over a small girl. They had her cornered against the wooden wall and there wasn't an adult in sight. Venza might have to report someone for abandoning their post later.

The small girl had a blank, unresponsive expression, like she was unaware of the trio's presence. A surprisingly fine black dress framed her small body.

Venza held herself steady. A responsible ruler didn't just butt into every single conflict they saw.

"Hey, Kindra, let's see if she really is a witch," one of the large boys said, presenting what looked like a bucket full of something to his friends. Venza couldn't quite see it.

"Let her have it," the girl Kindra, who seemed to be the ringleader, said.

The boy nodded and then dumped the contents of the bucket on the girl. It had been filled with mud. The girl's long, black dress was soaked. She barely flinched and didn't speak, only shot the trio with a glare that could have either melted ice or frozen water.

Venza snapped, storming out of her hiding place. She drew a deep breath and yelled, "What the blazes do you think you're doing?"

The three bullies flinched, looked for the source of the protest, and seemed to relax when they saw it was just a girl slightly shorter than they were.

"Almost scared my pants off, you twat," Kindra told her. "Butt out. This ain't none of your business."

"It absolutely is my business," Venza answered. "As heir of House Grayfield, I demand you to explain yourselves."

"Air of house what?" Kindra sort of repeated. "Bah. You talk weird. Just like she does. Ain't never seen you around here, come to mention it. You a witch, too?"

"You're prosecuting this girl just because she's an outsider?" Venza asked, her voice cracking a bit. Her tutors would've chastised her for losing her cool, but she couldn't ignore this.

So much for not butting into every conflict she saw.

"We ain't prostituting her! She does that to herself, with demons!" One of the boys answered. "Now, sod off unless you wanna end up like her."

"I can't do that," Venza responded, her tone serious. "Stop this at once, or I'll have to use force."

"Them's fighting words," the ringleader said.

"Oh, good," Venza drawled. "I was wondering when your pea of a brain would understand a word I said."

She took up a ready stance, just as Vosmer had taught her, with her hands up to block blows and her legs apart to give her better balance. There were three of them, and they were all taller than her, but she was sure she could take them. If she couldn't fight off three children, how was she supposed to protect the Empire?

"Stand back, citizen," Venza said. "I will be your shield!"

Her father’s words.

The trio glanced at each other, confused, and then shrugged.

"Get her," Kindra commanded, and the two boys obliged, moving in to grab her.

The first boy reached for her, but Venza ducked under his clumsy grapple and struck him hard on the chin with an uppercut. She then jammed her elbow into his chest, driving him backwards.

"Give up yet?" she asked.

The second boy lunged at her with a haymaker. She stepped aside, swept her leg down and sent him sprawling forward. She kicked him in the shin for good measure, causing him to howl and clutch his lower leg.

Unfortunately, while she'd been occupied, the tall girl had gotten behind her. The ringleader slammed her with a full-body tackle, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Her opponent might have been bad with words, but she wasn't entirely stupid. She had Venza's arms pinned to the ground, and the difference in size was simply too much to overcome, even with her training.

"Who the hell are you?" the ringleader asked.

"Like I said," Venza said, rather frustrated. "I'm Venza, of House Greyfield. We are the rightful stewards of this land!"

She would not show fear to this bully. If she screamed loud enough for help, someone would come.

"Rightful stewards of it? You think you own these lands?" a new voice spoke, completely monotone. It took Venza a moment to realize the little girl they'd dumped mud on was speaking. "That's rather presumptuous, isn't it?"

Venza chanced a glance at the girl, and her eyes widened like dinner plates as she saw the girl was no longer alone. A swarm of mosquitoes buzzed about at her side, seemingly in thrall to her.

"Witch!" one of the boys yelled. "She really is a witch!"

The girl named Kindra stood quickly, leaving Venza forgotten on the ground as she faced this new threat.

Venza jumped to her feet. "Get back to the gathering hall, the lot of you!" Venza yelled. "There're soldiers there. Tell them to send help! I'll hold her off!"

The three bullies, shocked into action, bolted in the direction Venza had come.

When she was sure they were gone, her face curled into a smirk. "We should go before they come back. I imagine the guard will scold them for telling tall tales."

The girl, who Venza now saw had chestnut brown hair that fell just short of her neck looked at her with a puzzled expression. "You're not scared?"

"I'd rather you didn't cover me in mosquito bites," Venza admitted. "But I doubt you could really hurt me when you can barely hold them together."

She gestured to the swarm, noting how several insects seemed to fly off in different directions. It had perhaps halved in size since the 'witch' had conjured it.

The girl shrugged and the cloud of mosquitoes scattered, leaving no trace of their congregation.

"It's a neat trick, though," Venza said. "I've never heard of a spell like that."

"You're magically trained?"

Venza pursed her lips a moment. "Yes."

"But?"

Venza didn't immediately answer.

So the girl hazarded a guess. "But you can't do magic, can you? Otherwise you'd have used a spell instead of subjugating them physically like you attempted to."

"Attempted?" Venza asked. "I took two of them down."

"I'm pretty sure they just stood up and ran," the girl answered. "Hardly seems like you took them down."

"Maybe you really are a witch," Venza quipped. "Your spell isn't what I was taught magic should be."

"Then your education is flawed," the girl answered. She was still dripping with mud.

"In that case, I'd love to hear what yours was like," Venza said. She walked past the girl and started heading to where she guessed the bakery was. "Come on. I'm buying."

"Buying what?" the girl asked with a blank expression.