Lora of Two Worlds

Ruth’s was Claude Cedric’s daughter. Since age twelve, she’d lived here, helping two semi-retired Frost Ravens care for the old commander. She gave him water, smoothed his breathing. He recovered:

”I’s days are numbered. That my lord came in person, I die without regret. Cedric, carry me to the Shrine Hollow.”

At a cave on the back mountain, Leon looked up. No wonder ”Spirit Gate”, the cave mouth was round, with an inward curve. Like a navel.

The cave wasn’t deep. Ten-odd steps to the back. Clean, no loose stones. Like any roadside shelter.

No one would connect this small cave with ”the Empire’s lifeblood.”

Claude Cedric explained: ”This cave faces one of the great cliff colossi directly. The old commander and his men designed it with care. With the great colossus presiding, the Empire is safe.”

Inside, the old commander, still on Claude Cedric’s back, pointed to a depression in the cave ceiling.

Ruth’s raised the torch. The depression was invisible to the eye. Only by touch, one could feel that beneath the stone surface, there was another space.

”My lord, this is the mechanism. The hollowed sections of both medallions and the token must be inserted, in order, into the keyholes.”

The cave corner. Ceiling about eight feet. No need for a step stool. Mo and Claude Sheffield each grabbed one of Claudenn’s legs and lifted. His head touched the ceiling.

By torchlight, Linn saw three slots.

Leon’s medallion, left. The other, right.

When the pieces were inserted in sequence, a deep rumble. A stone door appeared in the cave wall.

Aside from the old commander, even Claude Cedric had never seen this inner chamber. When the dust settled, the old man gestured them in.

Mo lit a torch and led. The outer chamber was small. The inner, considerably larger. Dry. Sealed, yet not stuffy.

The torchlight found rows of wooden chests. Some stacked.

Linn tried to count, too many to tally quickly.

Mo looked at Leon. Leon nodded. Mo pried open a chest with his blade. In the torchlight, gold coins gleamed. Another chest, the same.

He picked up a coin and handed it to Leon. Leon examined it. Not an Empire mint, Persian Sassanid gold.

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The Sassanid empire had fallen. Its people had become the Sogdians. And the rebel warlord Urso of Anjou had been a Sogdian. These uncirculated Sassanid coins, levy that Urso of Anjou had presented to the old King, hauled a thousand miles to court.

History’s irony: the man who’d nearly killed the Empire, now his gold would revive it.

They opened twenty-odd chests from the outer ring. All Sassanid gold. Then, Ruth’s called out. They gathered. A full chest of golden camels, West Asian art.

Mo hefted one. Heavy. Solid gold, perhaps. The camels sat, stood, single-humped, double-humped, each charmingly rendered.

Melting them would seem a shame.

The outer chests held levy coins and vessels from western kingdoms. And, several chests stamped ”Empire Treasury Reserve.”

These were coins minted for the national treasury. Rarer than the ”Empire at Peace” coins. Not rare because few existed, but because they’d been born to be stored. Locked away in that golden-age treasury, and forgotten.

The old commander, his voice wheezing through toothless gums, trembled:

”In those days, Urso of Anjou raised his army at Farnford. Marched south. Before he took Lohenheim, the King ordered my father, Sir Carl the Marshal, to secretly evacuate the eastern palace’s gold reserves. That was how this wealth, tributes from a hundred nations, was preserved.

My father thought: the old King, having survived, would use this gold to rise again.

But fate was unkind. He returned to Augustburg, became the Retired King. Moved from the Serene Palace to the Dewdrop Hall. My father was forced to retire. Sir Gareth was exiled. The old King, alone, abandoned, with no one left. And this vast treasure, forgotten.”

So that was it.

When the old King and his successor died, the token had passed down. The old King had given it to the son whose later years he’d blighted. But after that, the chain of transmission had grown murky.

This was the golden-age Empire’s gift to its descendants.

Perhaps, with this gold, Leon could build a strong central government. Gradually dismantle the marcher lords’ military power. And, in a peaceful, unified realm, realize the rich and powerful Empire that Lora had described.

Outside the cave, Leon said nothing. The old commander, on Claude Cedric’s back, smiled:

”My lord, from today, this Shrine Hollow and Cedric’s three hundred men, I entrust to you. Their families, old and young, several hundred more. Don’t forget them. My sons and grandsons all went before me. Now... I can go in peace.”

After descending, Linn and Claude Sheffield stayed. They helped Claude Cedric move the non-combatants down to Little Penn Village. The Frost Ravens stayed as they were. Fifty men were assigned to Linn, to build the mountain estate and secretly dig tunnels and hidden chambers for future gold transport.

Claude Cedric, Ruth’s, Linn, and Claude Sheffield stood at the village edge, bidding farewell. With a lord to serve, the Frost Ravens’ endless wait was over.

On the road back, Leon carried an extra joy:

A sack of gold ingots, enough to solve the Odenheims’ immediate crisis.

Mo waited with the carriage outside the city gate. Leon climbed in, and became, once again, the Baron Chaun in the wheelchair.

”Mo, to Highwood Quarter. I hear someone’s taste-testing Manager Keane’s iron-plate cooking tonight.”

”Who’d have thought, the young lady turned a covert guard into a restaurant manager.” Lyle marveled.

”Want to trade with Linn? You could be a farm boss.”

”No, no, I’m fine. I’ll stick with you, good food, good drink.”

Then, Leon went silent. He was watching through a corner of the carriage window. Lyle looked too. Cedric Salt was seeing a guest out, a fat-faced man. Something was said, both laughed heartily.

”See that? Keane is here to watch the Salt family’s The Gilded Lily.”

”You think they’re problematic too, my lord?”

Leon lowered the curtain. Smiled:

”The young lady says they’re problematic. Then they’re problematic.”