By midmorning, the headquarters was enjoying a rare and fragile quiet rather than peace.
Alric had learned to be suspicious of peace. Peace suggested either that nothing had gone wrong yet, or that something had gone wrong far enough away that no one had reached him with it. This was merely quiet, and quiet was safer. It could be worked with.
Alric was reviewing his mana potion notes. Those, at least, were ruining his morning honestly.
He had them spread across the table in front of him, pinned down by a mug, a spoon, and a small stone weight.
Alric leaned over the page and frowned at the words he had previously written.
Isolate compound that holds and preserves mana. Charge it. Dose it. That's it
It can’t be that easy.
He tapped the end of his charcoal against the page.
The problem was that every time he tried to think about mana potions seriously, his mind wandered back to cider.
That was unfair. Cider should have been simple. Apples, juice, yeast, time. Cider had rules. Cider had consequences, yes, but they were supposed to be familiar consequences.
Not civic instability.
He glanced toward the window. The street beyond looked calmer than it had the day before. That was not difficult. A battlefield after everyone had gone home would also look calmer than the day before.
Seren sat nearby with her own papers, arranged neatly in a way Alric found somehow accusatory. She had been quiet for some time, which meant she was either allowing him to think or waiting for the correct moment to tell him something unpleasant. Probably both.
He sighed and returned to his notes. The words ‘Charge it’ stared back at him with the confidence that he suspected would come back to bite.
There was a knock at the door. It was firm. Controlled. Not hurried.
Alric’s spine straightened before his brain could process anything.
He had come to dislike official knocks. This one had managed to sound official. Ordinary knocks had variety.
Seren looked toward the door, then at him.
Alric set the charcoal down carefully. He shrugged at Seren, shaking his head to show he didn’t know.
The knock came again, exactly as firm as before. It was the sort of knock that believed repetition was not impatience but procedure. A small part of Alric was impressed that someone else spoke knock so clearly.
Seren got up and moved to the door before opening it.
A man stood outside in a guard captain’s uniform.
At least, Alric assumed it was a guard captain’s uniform. It was too well kept to be anything else. The cloth sat cleanly over the man’s shoulders. The fittings were polished. The sword at his hip had been maintained by someone who understood both function and presentation.
Two guards stood behind him. They were similarly neat, alert, and painfully upright.
Alric stared at them for a moment.
They looked fresh. As though the previous day had happened to other people. As though no one had tried to climb a statue while singing it a love song.
The captain inclined his head to Seren.
“Good morning. I am looking for the brewer.”
Seren turned slightly. Alric raised a hand, because denying it would only delay the inevitable.
“That would be me.”
The captain’s gaze shifted to him. It was measured, professional, and far too awake.
“May we speak?”
Alric looked at the notes on the table, then at the captain, then at the sword. He had found that when armed men asked politely, it was usually wise to appreciate the effort.
“Of course, come in.” he said gesturing to the seat opposite.
The captain stepped inside. The two guards followed and took positions near the door without being told. Seren closed it behind them.
Alric stood because he suddenly felt too seated. An emotion he had never felt before.
“Chair?” he offered even though he had gestured to it earlier.
“Thank you.”
The captain took the chair opposite him. He did not collapse into it. He sat. There was a difference. It was the difference between a man using furniture and a man respecting a chairs function.
The two guards remained standing. Alric sat again trying to appear more confident than he felt.
The captain removed his gloves with calm precision and set them across one knee.
“Captain Darron Rein,” he said. “Third Border Watch, Crown service, lately of Northpass Fort.”
Alric nodded. “Alric.”
“I was given your name.”
That was never a comforting sentence.
Seren moved back to her seat, though she did not quite return to her work. Her attention settled on the captain with the calm patience of someone who had already begun measuring the room for problems.
Captain Rein continued, “I have been placed in command of the contingent assigned by His Majesty to your brewery.”
“Ahh,” Alric said, his shoulders sagging from a tension he did not know he was carrying. “You are a bit earlier than I was expecting.”
There was a pause in which Darron shrugged. Alric looked past him at the two guards.
Both men had heard the word brewery and were trying, with the discipline expected of soldiers, not to look delighted. They were failing in a quiet but complete way. Darron’s gaze followed Alric’s.
One stared straight ahead with his jaw set. The corners of his mouth had risen just enough to betray him. The other had fixed his gaze on a point above Alric’s shoulder and wore the expression of a man who had been handed a sacred duty and was only just beginning to understand that the sacred duty might involve standing near beer all day.
He looked back to Alric.
“As you can imagine,” he said, “this creates a new set of problems.”
Alric leaned back slightly.
“That keeps happening.”
“I had a feeling.”
Seren made a small sound. It was not quite a laugh. Alric rubbed at the bridge of his nose.
“How many guards?”
“There are seventy, but the rest will be coming over the next two weeks,” Rein said. “At least, that is, if the road is kind.”
“Right,” Alric said.
Captain Rein watched him before he nodded once, as though confirming a suspicion. “I was told the brewery is significant to the crown.”
Alric nodded while gathering the mana notes into a less incriminating pile. This did not make them less incriminating, but it did make them look less like he had been trying to discover the rules of reality while eating breakfast.
“The simplest thing,” he said, “is to go there and walk through it. There are… Let’s just say there are places you don’t want to stand at the wrong time.”
One of the guards by the door shifted very slightly. Captain Rein did not look back this time.
“Is it dangerous?”
“No. Just hot.”
Alric pushed the notes aside and stood. “It’s easier if you see it.”
Captain Rein rose as well. Then there was another knock at the door. This one was different.
It was not firm. It was not controlled. It felt frantic, somehow it sounded both exasperated and angry at once.
Everyone turned toward it. Seren looked at Alric again. Alric looked back.
“I didn’t do anything this morning,” he said.
The second knock came harder, not louder so much as more personal.
Seren opened the door. A watch captain stood outside.
At least, Alric thought he was a watch captain. The uniform suggested it, rather it suggested the uniform had recently been through a siege and was reconsidering every choice it ever made.
He had dark circles under his eyes, the sort that did not come from one bad night but from a night that had invited several other nights to help. His hair had escaped whatever arrangement it had begun in. His jaw was unshaven. There was a stain on one sleeve that might have been cider, mud, or both. His cloak hung from one shoulder looking a lot like a flag after rain.
He looked past Seren into the room. “I’m looking for the brewer.”
Alric raised his hand slowly.
The man entered without waiting for a fuller invitation, then stopped as he took in the scene.
He saw the two guards, who looked like they had slept in beds and ate a good meal that morning.
The watch captain stared at them for a moment.
Something passed across his face. Not envy so much, envy required energy. This was closer to moral injury.
Captain Rein inclined his head. “Captain.”
The watch captain looked at him, then down at his boots, then back up. The watch captain moved toward Alric with careful steps.
He stopped at the table.
“Did you attack the city?”
Alric blinked rapidly recoiling slightly. Captain Rein’s eyebrows rose by the smallest possible amount.
“No,” Alric said.
The watch captain stared at him. Alric took a breath.
“I taught some tavernkeepers how to make proper cider.”
The watch captain pointed at him.
“That,” he said, “is what I mean.”
There was a short silence. One of the royal guards made a small sound and immediately turned it into a cough. Captain Rein’s mouth tightened.
Alric sat down again, mostly because standing suddenly felt too bold.
The watch captain dragged out the nearest chair and lowered himself into it with the care of a man who did not trust his knees.
“What happened?” Alric asked, more out of politeness, he could have treasured his ignorance forever on the topic.
The watch captain looked at him. The man leaned back slightly and let out a breath. “The first morning, we ran out of cells.”
Alric waited.
“That was already unusual,” the captain continued. “We have busy festivals. We have drunken festivals. We plan for that. The cells normally make it till night.”
Captain Rein nodded once, because this type of procedure was something he understood. The watch captain’s eyes shifted to him.
“There are no procedures for running out of cells before the second bell.”
Captain Rein’s composure cracked. Only slightly, but enough. Alric looked down at the table.
The watch captain continued, “After that, we used the old holding rooms. Then we used the wagon shed.”
Alric pressed his lips together.
“Then someone pointed out that the wagon shed contained wagons, and the wagons were becoming attractive to drunken prisoners who were getting ideas about them.”
Captain Rein lowered his gaze. The royal guards behind him had become extremely focused on the wall.
“So,” the watch captain said, “we created drunken holding areas.”
“That sounds official. Well done captain.” Captain Rein said approvingly.
“It is not.” The watch captain said giving Rein a sidelong glance.
Captain Rein made a noise. It might have been a laugh. It might have been a cough. It was not successful as either.
The watch captain turned his head toward him.
“We put rope around places where the drunkest people were already lying down and assigned a man to make sure they did not crawl away.”
Alric’s mind formed a picture of this. It was not helpful.
“That worked?” Rein asked.
“Better than chasing them.”
One of the royal guards behind Captain Rein closed his eyes. Seren looked down at her papers, though she had not turned a page in some time.
Alric tried to keep his face still. The watch captain saw the attempt.
“If you laugh,” he said, “I will become less certain you did nothing wrong.”
Alric nodded quickly.
Captain Rein, who had recovered enough to look official again, said, “I take it the festival became difficult to manage.”
The watch captain turned to him with the slow patience of a tired man being handed a small cup for a large fire.
Captain Rein shook his head slightly accepted the correction without knowing what it was correcting.
The watch captain rubbed a hand over his face.
“People were racing carts down the main roads. There was jousting on the main avenue.” He said pausing to breath, “I feel like you should know one of your carters won the races, an off duty watchmen won the jousts. Both are still in cells.”
Alric was forced to clap a hand over his mouth and close his eyes. Rein had done the same. One of the guards had to turn his head into shoulder, his chest shaking.
“By late afternoon, there were teams. Someone had written rules. Betting rings follow these things.”
“Rules?” Captain Rein asked.
“Bad ones.”
“That follows,” Alric murmured.
The watch captain pointed at him again.
“Do not help.”
The two guards were losing the battle now. One had turned away entirely. His shoulders were very still in the way shoulders became when laughter was being held hostage.
Alric’s head dropped slightly. He was not laughing. He was holding his breath in a responsible way.
“The healers are furious,” the watch captain said.
That helped. Guilt returned, which was much less fun.
“The priests too,” he added. “Though in fairness, the priests are furious whenever anyone makes them walk quickly.”
Seren made the mistake of breathing in at the wrong time. No one could pretend it was not a laugh.
The watch captain glanced at her. She arranged her face into innocence.
He lacked the strength to challenge it. The silence changed.
“You taught tavernkeepers to make cider that strong. It’s not illegal but it should be.”
That was uncomfortably specific. The captain leaned back.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I honestly didn’t think it would get that bad.”
The watch captain studied him. For a moment, the exhaustion shifted and he nodded.
“No,” he said. “You probably didn’t, I wouldn’t have thought it either.”
That landed more seriously than the rest. The watch captain rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger.
“Look,” he said. “You have not done anything wrong. I know that. My men know that. The magistrates will know that once they stop shouting. This is not that sort of visit. Next time you do something like this, just warn us is all. I couldn’t arrest a factor even if I wanted.”
The words had weight. The resigned acceptance of a man finding a hole in the roof he had just repaired.
“I do apologize, sincerely. I will get some beer to the old fort as an apology, on me.” Alric offered.
The tired captain’s expression softened slightly as it relaxed.
“I’ll take some of that winter beer I keep hearing about.” He asked to which Alric nodded.
“Winter beer?” Rein asked with a sidelong expression.
The watch captain looked at the two fresh guards before answering, “This one makes beer, and the temple arrives. He makes cider, and the city starts mounted combat without mounts. If he starts making soup, warn the army.”
Seren laughed outright. She tried to keep it quiet turning her head away.
Alric muttered, “I make soup sometimes.”
“Do not tell me that.” The watch captain said with his eyes closed.
Captain Rein’s gaze shifted back to Alric with renewed concern.
The watch captain stood. It took him a moment. His knees gave a short but curt speech on the way up.
“I do not care about the soup,” he said, which sounded like a man making a desperate administrative choice. “I care about warning.”
Alric stood as well.
“I’ll warn the guards if something like that happens again.”
“Good.”
“And the healers?” Captain Rein asked trying to be helpful.
The watch captain made a face.
“No. Don’t bother. They will complain no matter what you do. They are whiny.”
No one in the room looked as though they would debate that Alric noted, he had yet to run into healers or their guild.
“The priests, maybe,” he continued after a pause. “If you think you are about to cause them any running. They dislike running more than the healers dislike everything. But the healers? No. They will find out when someone arrives. That is how they work anyway.”
Captain Rein looked as if he wanted to object on principle but could not immediately identify which principle applied. The watch captain moved toward the door.
At the threshold, he stopped and looked back at Alric.
“One more thing.”
Alric braced himself.
“If anyone asks, the watch did not approve the tournament. Your carter will be released later.” The watch captain said.
“I didn’t know it was called a tournament.” Alric said trying to sound clever.
“Doesn’t matter, we won. Also spare a thought for the sweepers.” He said as he left, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.