Harald
“It’s a little cold,” Winnifred complained from her Borca mount.
“Relax, we're heading back,” Joslyn said next to her.
“Sorry that I wasn’t born with Ice in my veins,” Winnifred said as she blew into her hands to warm her gloves.
Harald enjoyed the nice crisp morning air on his face. The rays of sunlight that cut through the trees felt good as they warmed his face as he rode on top of his Paw, his Borca companion who trotted through the forest with ease.
“We will be back inside Stonehill Hold shortly,” Harald said warmly. “You have to admit it’s a beautiful morning though.”
“It is,” Winnifred said reluctantly. “But…”
“But you would much rather be in the tech lab,” Gwen and Jae said together and laughed. Even Harald let out a small laugh. They had heard Winnifred complain with such a statement too many times to count.
“Come on,” Harald said softly. “Less we talk, faster we can go,” he told them, and pushed Butch to go faster.
Much of the old city that surrounded Stonehill Hold still remained abandoned. Less than a quarter of the ancient settlement had been reclaimed by his mother and father when they settled on Isca. It had been abandoned by the Fabians, and never reclaimed by the Tutha who called Isca home. Along the outskirts of Stonehill Hold where the city gave way to the forest slope few of the abandoned estates were settled or more than ruins.
Down on the slopes of the mountain Harald and his friends loved to explore those old abandoned structures. Even so far outside the old town, abandoned farm houses, hunting cabins, once great estates, and other buildings lay forgotten and lost. Overgrown by nature.
Harald spent much of his time with several of his father’s wards, or those children born to the men and women who served his father and mother. Many of the wards were nobles like him, although most were from Isca itself, or at least their families had settled there with his father. Most, but not all. There were some, like Joslyn Vault, who came from the other side of the Commonwealth from the world of Brightstone in the Anchorage Sector, and granddaughter to the System-lord of Brightstone.
Hidden by the massive trees and other overgrowth of the forest they had found what seemed like whole different worlds. Lost through so many untold centuries. Many had trees and other brush grown through the buildings themselves. Animals had claimed most, and one they had found had even been split in two by one of the many creeks that ran down the mountain during heavy rains.
Sometimes they were lucky enough to find old objects as well. Mostly junk and broken from years of age, and weather. They had found several only pistols once, but none had worked. Old tools, or dishes. It was fun to explore the old buildings, and sometimes they would pretend they were Tutha defending Isca from the Fabians during their conquest thousands of years ago.
Other times they pretended to be the famous general and king Alwyn Dragon, and his royal knights who defended the Dragon’s Head Nebula from the first Furse raiders and conquers after the Fabian Withdraw almost three thousand year ago. Those invaders had given rise to the Old Blood Kingdoms from those who fled Furse Space from the Skoll the stories said.
Harald enjoyed those stories the most but always felt conflicted about them. He and his ancestors were Furse and they still followed the Old Ways. His ancestors had remained in Furse Space as the Coldfell System was far from the Skoll threat which became the Old Ruins, but King Alwyn Dragon and his knights fought to defend the Fabian Faith, and Tutha worlds from the Furse, and those who followed the Old Ways.
If not for betrayal from one of his own knights, king Alwyn Dragon might have pushed the Old Blood kingdoms out of the Dragon’s Head Nebula altogether, long before the rise of the Old Blood Kingdoms, and the Commonwealth.
Harald and his friends made their way through the brush on their mounts as they headed back to Stonehill Hold before the end of morning break. They didn’t have much time for much more than a morning ride before late morning lessons began. Even in the trees, and with the sun hitting them now and again, the wind had a crisp cold on it. The snow capped peak of Stonehill fed several small creeks as the runoff melted. There wasn’t any snow on the ground, but it felt like it could snow.
Harald held on as Paw jumped over a small stream of water, and landed on the far side without touching the cold water. The ground was wet from rain, it often rained, and Harald could feel the wetness seeping through his riding pants where his boots ended halfway to his knee. The giant paws of the five Borca kicked up dirt, and mud as they rode faster through the forest.
Harald rubbed Paw on the seam of his big floppy ears that hung down his head. Harald held the reins in his left hand as he leaned forward from the beast's long back. It was a comfortable pace, but any faster would leave Winnifred behind. Harald knew that Butch would love nothing more than to rush forward with his great speed, but the beast trotted along.
Butch and the other four Borca knew the paths around Stonehill Hold likely better than Harald and others. The many twisting paths which crossed over the mountain, and led back to the old city.
The trees became less and more sun came through the long branches and green leaves and pines. Soon the many stone structures of Stonehill Hold came into view. Rising out of the ground like carved from the stone itself. Much of the old structures of Stonehill had been carved out of the stone of the mountain, although the abandoned structures had long since lost any wood, or other material used to set them apart.
Much of the inner city and the large keep had been rebuilt, and great wood beams, and roof tops stood where the surrounding buildings were in various states of disrepair. Smoke pillowed out of several small homes, and Harald could smell what must have been morning meals made. There wasn’t anything like a meal cooked over a fire, his father would often tell him, and the small trails of smoke told Harald that many agreed with him.
Harald and his friend made their way through one of the main stone streets that led to the main keep of Stonehill Hold where his family lived. Some buildings still had old Tutha carvings on them, most most had long since disappeared from the many rains. The simple, and yet complex designs always drew Harald’s eyes.
Several people waved at Harald and his friends as they entered the populated section of the city. People went about their work, and skycrafts and landcrafts floated on by them as the streets got busier.
“Hello Rodger,” Harald greeted one of the guards on duty at the main wall which surrounded the keep, and was greeted warmly home with a wave from the guard as he stood next to the small guardhouse with several bots walking around the wall in Harald’s sight.
“Welcome lord, Hope you had a good ride this morning,” he said with a cheerful voice.
“Sure did,” he assured his father’s soldier.
“You lot hurry to the stable, and might be able to get to the great hall for the last of Quincey’s pancakes,” Rodger told them as he looked at the device on his wrist. “He made a special batch for the last morning meal of the day,” he told them with his cheerful voice.
“Oh no,” Harald said. “Sorry Rodger, we got to go,” he said in a hurry and pushed Butch forward. If Quincey had made the last of the morning meals, that meant they would be late for the last of the morning lessons, that they had taken too long on their break, and Oma would have some cruel punishment for them.
