The carriages were big enough for four people to sit in relatively comfortably, six uncomfortably. There were benches along either side with some room for luggage underneath, although there was also a storage space underneath the carriage. I was sitting next to Clare, both of us more-or-less against the walls of the carriage. Lemon sat in the middle of the bench opposite us, resting his head against the wall with his eyes closed. Clare seemed to be staring blankly ahead, although she could've been looking anywhere for all I knew. The ride was relatively stable, with the occasional bump and jostle, but not so much as to be particularly unbearable.
I watched the road run away from us as I pieced together what to say to Lemon. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I really didn't have much to say. All I knew was that the situation was tense. There wasn't, as far as I was aware, any active conflict, only a real possibility that something could break out, although when put like that, I didn't think Lemon would think anything of it; the possibility of conflict was always present, meaning I had to phrase things such that they'd convince him of the volatility of the situation. There was also the fact that I wasn't sure if I should bring up where I got the information from. Whether or not Vulper would be alright with me name dropping him, I didn't know, but it was also a gamble whether I'd be believed if I did name drop him. I decided to offer a warped version of events and hope for the best.
"There's something bothering me."
"What?"
I turned to face Lemon, who slowly opened his eyes and looked at me seriously.
"I wandered out to the market after our spar, and I overheard someone telling his wife about the situation in Bervil."
"Oh? I'm surprised someone who could freely move between cities would be at the Dawn Market. What did you hear?"
The seriousness in his expression never waned, but a nagging voice in the back of my mind told me he already suspected I was lying.
"I don't remember the exact wording, but he said something about the families supporting the Church in the city being weaker in recent years. Apparently, the opposing groups are starting to put pressure on them."
Lemon raised an eyebrow but then his expression turned neutral, and he once again put his head back and closed his eyes.
"I wouldn't worry about it. The Church families have far more strength hidden than the public knows about. Even if they don't have the manpower they once did, they aren't at risk."
The swiftness of his rebuttal made me question whether to keep pushing the point or just wait and hope he would put it together on his own. Before I could speak again, Clare spoke up, her demeanor staying completely disinterested.
"I believe there is more to Slate's words than you have realized."
"Oh, yeah? And what's that?"
He opened his eyes and looked at me seriously again, but there was a sparkling curiosity behind his eyes this time that stood at odds with his gruff exterior.
"The man didn't seem to be particularly high class, but he didn't seem to be uninvolved in the world either. If his observation is the opinion of the opposition groups, there could be a building tension in the city that could cause us problems. Especially so, I think, if it's the opinion of the subordinates of the groups; if they're more willing to take action in spite of the Church, however ill-advised or misguided, they'd be decreasing people's confidence in the Church, which may lead to us not receiving the warmest of welcomes."
Lemon's eyes drifted out to the landscape passing behind the carriage as he thought.
"That, or we may be in for a fight if they think the lack of an Adjudicator means they can run rampant."
"Or that."
"Or both."
"Or both."
"Did this man mention specific groups or families?"
"I think so, but I didn't recognize the names, so I don't remember them."
"I think I know which ones it would be anyway, but the confirmation would've been nice. Regardless, that does fit with my suspicions about why Bossman was being so evasive."
"How so? If they had more information, especially information that could lead to problems in our mission, why wouldn't they tell us?"
He turned back towards me.
"There are two answers to that question. The first is that it doesn't matter. What matters is that they didn't tell us, and while they probably had a reason, it ultimately doesn't matter since the result is the same. The second answer is that they wanted to see how we'd handle the problem."
"Why increase our chances of failing and making the Church look bad?"
"There's most likely a fallback option."
He paused after he said this and his eyes drifted to Clare for a second before drifting back to me.
"Realistically, though, they likely wouldn't make a move until they had a good measure of our strength, which delays their actions a day or two, which gives them a fairly short window to do something before the next Adjudicator shows up, who'd be able to deal with whatever problems were left over. Although, I suppose waiting is the smart thing to do. They may take some sort of action immediately upon realizing the city is without an adjudicator."
"So, what do we do?"
"Hope for the best; expect the worse. Nothing else we can do. They'll do whatever they do, and we'll have what we have to respond to it. I'll share this with the others when we stop, and we'll discuss a plan the last stop before we arrive. Also, Slate, be sure to thank the man you overheard for this information."
He smirked as he said the last part, and I knew instantly, he had seen through me.
Minutes turned to hours as the world passed around us. It seemed the area west of the capital was nothing but farmland. Where there were hills, tilled soil covered them until about halfway down; where it was flat, there were large ponds with crops growing in dirt-filled, covered baskets that floated in tight, even rows in the ponds. The cover on the baskets were conical, sloping upwards to the middle, with a ever-burning light nestled inside of them. These crops would grow slowly, but it was better than not growing at all, as they would've had they been planted in the soil.
The road we were on was covered in a short, sturdy-looking grass, clearly intentionally planted. Most of the main roads were made like this, as the roots of the grass would hold the soil together well enough against the constant rain, provided the traffic over it was kept light. Additionally, the grass had the ability to self-propagate rather quickly and effectively, essentially making the roads self-repairing, while the roots were also far reaching, both down and out, which greatly assisted in holding the road together, although I had come across some accounts in my time perusing the library of some farmers complaining about their fields being taken over by the grass. This was an issue given that the soil needed to be completely plowed to kill the grass, which drastically lowered the already low soil quality. The solution they found for this was to use the magic of a particular family to poison the soil in a strip on either side of the road.
The process of doing this for all the main roads took years. For one, the family with the ability to do this was small, but what made it truly take time was that it was an unconventional use of their magic. The ability of this family was to accelerate and control plant growth, but it wasn't magic that could permanently affect plants, hence why they couldn't outright deal with the problem. The solution was to place a type of mold, in other words a fungus, that had the effect of poisoning everything around it, into the soil at set intervals, and forcing it to grow out to a certain point to stop the grass from spreading. Being a fungus and not a plant, the majority of the family had no control over its growth, with only a single branch being able to do so.
The mold itself was rumored to be a bioweapon to kill fields without the flashiness of fire, and while not confirmed, there was a rather large amount of evidence which made it seem possible. For one, the family had been a great help shortly after the establishment of the Church, being directly responsible for ensuring a stable food supply for the last two millennia, however they hadn't contributed much beyond that, hence their small numbers in the following centuries during the road problems. They weren't asked to help propagate the grass on the roads, which some theorized caused them to want to develop a sort of mutually assured destruction tactic in case they were ever directly threatened.
Alternatively, some offered the idea that they had been commissioned to create it, but it fell short of what they intended it to be, so they instead offered it up as a solution when the relevant problem arose. It of course begs the question of who commissioned it and why. Funnily, no one seemed to disagree that someone would commission something like that, they just couldn't agree on who.
The option that seemed most plausible to me though, was that the Church had foreseen the issue and tasked the family with designing something to deal with it; fight fire with fire, so to speak. Even in my limited experience with the people of the Church, the Pope especially, they never struck me as people so shortsighted as to throw away anything without an immediate purpose. The family, by all accounts, was supportive of the Church, and had been through their history, leading me to think the rumors were nothing more than that.
Recalling what I could about the scenery, I watched the light grow brighter and softer while the air grew slightly warmer. It was midday. As the air began to warm, the smell of rain intensified, although whether we were following a storm or running from one, I wasn't sure. We'd be sheltered from the rain, and I assumed the Wizonen would be fine with it since the stable hand didn't warn us about it, but rain always seemed to increase the chance of things going wrong.
The carriages slowed to a stop while I was praying against the rain. We all took the opportunity to stretch our legs while Lemon and Clare took charge of feeding the animals. As we had been told, the road here split. One road twisted north, one continued straight west, while another continued west-southwest. There was a wooden post driven into the nexus of the roads with four arrows on it, each pointing down a different road and towards their respective cities.
Noah, the brothers, and I stood behind the carriages while we waited. Simon seemed to have started on another project while he was travelling and was still fiddling with something while he stood there. I caught a few glimpses of the inside of their carriage, seeing they had, somehow, set up a table in the middle of it, and that there were various pieces and parts strewn about. I got the feeling the big box Syzygy had been carrying was full of these sorts of miscellaneous things, rather than anything actually useful. Every now and then, Simon would dip back into the carriage to swipe something off the ground, only to later throw something back into it indiscriminately later.
After a few minutes of waiting Clare and Lemon returned. Lemon looked at me before starting to speak.
"Before we get going, I have something we need to discuss quickly."
He waited a bit until everyone was listening.
"Slate here shared some important information. Apparently, the situation in Bervil is somewhat tense at the moment. The groups in opposition to the Church are growing in confidence in response to a slight decline in the apparent power of the Church families. All we know for sure is that tensions are growing, however it is possible, and the more I think about it, likely that the lack of an Adjudicator may spark some action. As for what that means for us, well, just be prepared for anything."
"Is this the hidden meaning you suspected behind the words of our handler?"
"That's what I'm thinking, yes. My assumption at the moment is that they wanted to see how we responded to an unexpected, hectic situation. That said, the human element is always unpredictable. It might legitimately just be an oversight because the Pope's a spaz and our handler had something else on his mind while he was talking to us. Time will tell."
"Please refrain from directly insulting the most revered person in our society."
"Y'ever met the guy? You can't tell me I'm wrong."
"Clare, help me."
"Lemon, Syzygy has a point. You know there are eyes and ears everywhere. You can never know what will find its way to his ears, or from where."
"I miss the days where I didn't need this job…. In any case, everyone think of what our best course of action will be when we arrive, and we'll discuss it when we stop at midnight."
The four of us actively listening gave nods of understanding, and the six of us returned to our carriages. Before he got in, Lemon stood at the back of the carriage, one foot in it and facing forward, and whistled to the Wizonen. Almost before he could get into the carriage properly, there was a strong jerk, and the carriages once again continued moving at a brisk pace.