Victubia: An Origin

Chapter Ten

The King grunted as the carriage went over a bump, pain spiking up his back. He had always had back problems, and his… mishap back in Victubia had done it no good. He scowled as they drove away, James sat next to him, and Helga was up front driving. Andy seemed to be missing, but that was the least of his worries. The servant could stay there for all he cared. Maybe he should have taken their Royal Healer while he was there. He was better than anything they had in Fielda. There was rumors he could fix major injuries with his abilities alone- his magic type was rare.

“That did not go as planned Sir?” James was questioning his actions. How dare he.

“It went perfectly according to plan.”

“Sir, you will not be able to fight in this condition. You need to be healed up.”

“With what, James? Healing is Victubia’s specialty. The best we have are the herbalists that will tell me to take a mud bath or some other ridiculous treatment.”

“What about the old hag who lives in the forest? She healed your back before.”

“…Indeed. We will go to her immediately. I must be in peak condition in order to see this battle through. Make sure we are taken there, James.”

“Of course, sir.”

They approached the looming gates of Fielda, the ugly brick walls casting a tall shadow in the light of the early morning. Birds tweeted happily, only interrupted by the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and rumble of the carriage along the dusty path.

“Get out here, James.” The King wished he could have slept the journey; alas, the pain had become unbearable, and he had spent most of the journey hunched over, gritting his teeth at every bump and pothole the carriage went over.

“Sire?” James was a little surprised by his request.

“As soon as I get back, we need to start war preparations. You might as well get out now and get a few hours head start. Take over from the advisor until I am done. I should be back before sunset.”

“Y-yes sir. Helga, you know where the hags cottage is, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I’ve lived here longer than you, James.”

“Alright, old woman, whatever you say.”

“Enough with the banter. Get on with it.” James stepped out of the carriage and began walking towards the city, while Helga whipped the horses into a brisk trot, headed into the woods. It was a journey that would take almost a day by foot, she was that secluded, but merely a few hours by carriage. The hag was technically a resident of Fielda, even though she lived outside of the city walls. As long a no one bothered her for the most part, she would give out healing and remedies if an important member of the council was in grave need.

By the time they had reached the small house, the sun was shining atop the hills in the east, casting a glow over everything. Helga stopped the carriage, finally, and helped him out. It was only now that he would finally admit to himself that he had gotten bad luck back in Victubia. Of course the one man he would choose was a Vox. Of course.

They approached the house, and reached the door. Helga put out her arm, ready to knock, but to their surprise the door flew open before she could even touch it. A man stood behind it, one in some sort of foreign military uniform, his belt an array of weapons, most notable the katana, alongside a shiny black pistol. Now that was impressive. Gun technology was faulty, still developing, and for a city to be so advanced that they were able to supply their military with pistols was unheard of. The man looked at them in shock, but that look slowly wiped off his face and it turned into a menacing laugh.