The next morning, the convoy left the inn and set off again toward the capital.
Hugh had been up before anyone else. By the time Owen came down, the soldiers were already mounted, the horses had been checked, and everything was loaded and ready to go.
Owen settled into the carriage in a good mood.
Every so often, his thoughts drifted back to the night before, and he couldn’t help smiling. His sword could turn his whole body into vapor. Even now, it didn’t quite seem real. He wanted to practice with it properly as soon as his ribs would let him.
But there was something else to look forward to as well. Ever since his father had told him about Princess Adelaide’s invitation, he had been waiting to see the Imperial Capital, and today he finally would.
Agnes glanced at him from her corner. "You’re in a very good mood, Young Master."
"We’ll reach the capital today," Owen said.
"So that’s it." She settled back. "You’ve been looking forward to this since before we left."
"I have."
He looked at the bandages showing beneath her collar. "How are you feeling?"
"Better than yesterday," Agnes said. "The physician did good work." Her hand drifted toward her shoulder, then stopped. "It still hurts. But I can manage the journey." She gave him a pointed look. "Your ribs haven’t gone anywhere either, Young Master. Try not to forget that once we arrive."
"I’ll try."
"You won’t, but it’s kind of you to say so."
Before they had left the town behind, Hugh rode up alongside the window.
"If nothing else holds us up, Young Master, we should reach the capital this evening."
"Good," Owen said, and settled back to enjoy the road.
The road went on without much to mark it. Little by little, the forests thinned out and gave way to farmland, scattered settlements and roads that grew busier with every hour.
Owen spent a good part of the journey at the window. Merchant wagons rolled past going the other way, and travellers walked between the towns. More and more of the carriages they passed carried noble insignia.
Outside, Hugh rode up and down the line now and then, keeping the escort in formation, while the coachman kept the carriage moving at an easy pace.
Clara and Elise were in better spirits today. They had had a night to rest, and they were far more at ease talking to him now.
"Have you been to many noble celebrations, my lord?" Clara asked.
"Not like this one," Owen said. "This is the first imperial invitation I’ve had. I know how to behave at one, at least. My mother made sure of that."
"So you won’t be stepping on anyone’s feet when you dance?"
"I didn’t say that."
Elise laughed. "Clara stepped on a baron’s son twice at our first dance."
"He moved the wrong way," Clara said. "Both times."
"Both times," Elise agreed, entirely unconvinced.
Owen smiled. "To be honest, I’m more interested in the city than the ball."
"That’s because you haven’t seen the ballroom yet," Clara said.
The conversation turned, inevitably, to what the sisters would do once they arrived. Most of what they had brought had been lost or damaged in the attack.
"We’ll need to write to our father first," Elise said. "Before anything else. He’ll need to send someone, or arrange something for us."
"And until he does?" Owen asked.
The sisters looked at each other.
"We hadn’t quite got that far," Clara admitted.
"Then don’t worry about it," Owen said. "Hugh can help you send word once we arrive. You won’t be left without somewhere safe to stay."
Clara looked relieved. Elise nodded quietly, and for once, neither of them thanked him. They went on talking about the ball instead, which Owen found he preferred.
As the afternoon wore on, the traffic grew heavier. Owen began to notice more expensive carriages on the road, some of them with armed escorts riding alongside, all of them heading the same way.
Most of them were probably going to the capital for the same reason he was.
That thought pleased him. For most of his life, the people he knew had been people from Ferrers territory and his family’s circle. At the ball, there would be heirs from parts of the Empire he had never seen, and he had no idea what any of them would be like.
By the time evening was drawing in, the Imperial Capital finally came into view.
The first things Owen saw were the walls, enormous and grey, with towers rising along them. As the convoy drew closer, the true size of the city began to show itself. The walls stretched away into the distance on both sides, and behind them rose buildings, towers and larger shapes that he couldn’t properly make out from the road.
As darkness settled over the countryside, lights began to appear all across the city. The gates were lit up, and long lines of merchant wagons, travellers and noble carriages were working their way toward them.
Owen leaned closer to the window.
He had grown up surrounded by his family’s wealth and its fine buildings. This was something else. It was the sheer size of the place that struck him, and the number of people going in and out of it.
Hugh had dropped back to ride beside the carriage, and Owen leaned toward the window.
"What’s that?" he asked, pointing at a cluster of towers rising above the walls to the east.
"I couldn’t say from here, Young Master," Hugh said. "I’ve only been here twice, and I didn’t see much beyond the barracks." He looked where Owen was pointing. "Those lights farther in, though, that’s the old part of the city. Most of the wealthier districts are over that way."
"And that?"
"No idea, Young Master."
Owen kept asking anyway.
As the convoy reached the city entrance, the soldiers posted at the gates were carrying out their usual inspections. Just ahead of Owen’s carriage, a merchant wagon had been stopped. Its driver was answering questions while guards climbed up to look through his cargo, and other soldiers were directing the arriving carriages toward the right passage.
Then one of the guards looked up and saw the insignia on Owen’s carriage.
His expression changed at once.
He turned and said something sharply to the soldiers beside him. They looked up too, at the crest on the carriage door and the matching insignia on the mounted escort. Owen watched the change go through all of them, from ordinary watchfulness to something much more formal.
The soldiers straightened and came to attention. One of them signaled for the passage to be cleared, and another began moving the nearby traffic aside to make room for the convoy.
The officer in charge of the gate came forward to Hugh and bowed.
"House Ferrers," he said. "Welcome to the capital. Please convey our respects to the son of Grand Duke Edmund Ferrers."
"Thank you," Hugh said. "We’re here for the royal gathering."
"Of course." The officer stepped aside. "Please, go through."
Nobody made any attempt to inspect Owen’s carriage. The soldiers simply stood aside and let the whole convoy pass.
Owen watched it all from inside. He appreciated the courtesy, but it didn’t surprise him. He had lived his whole life as a Ferrers, and he knew what his family’s name carried.
What interested him far more was finally passing through those gates.
The moment they were inside, Owen turned all his attention to the streets.
Even at this hour, the city was busy. Carriages rolled along the wide roads, people gathered outside shops and taverns, and the sound of voices and trade drifted through the evening air. Warm light spilled from windows and street lamps. Expensive carriages travelled alongside merchant wagons, and uniformed guards patrolled the busier corners.
Owen watched the buildings go by. There were shops of every kind, rows of houses, and every so often something much grander. A shop window full of strange brass instruments caught his eye, and then a narrow street lit with hanging lanterns, where people were crowded around food stalls. He was already making a list in his head of where he wanted to go once he had some time.
Agnes was watching him rather than the city. "You’ll have plenty to see while we’re here, Young Master."
"There should be time to explore before the gathering," Hugh added from outside the window.
Owen smiled.
Eventually, the convoy turned into a more prestigious district, where the streets were quieter and the buildings grander. Hugh directed the coachman toward one of the most luxurious inns in the capital, a place used to receiving the Empire’s highest nobility.
It was enormous and beautifully kept. Its entrance was grand, its stonework was fine and pale, every window glowed with light, and a broad private courtyard opened in front of it. Expensive carriages already stood near the entrance, and attendants in uniform moved between the building and the guests arriving.
As the Ferrers convoy rolled into the courtyard, members of the staff came forward to meet them. One of the attendants recognized the insignia and hurried back inside.
A moment later, a well-dressed man in his fifties came out himself, clearly the manager, and bowed deeply when Owen stepped down from the carriage.
"My lord. Welcome. We’re honored to have a son of House Ferrers under our roof."
"Thank you," Owen said.
Hugh stepped forward to handle the rest.
"Our finest suite for his lordship, of course," the manager said, almost before Hugh had finished explaining the size of the party. "And good rooms for his household and his guests. Your soldiers and your coachman will be properly lodged, and my stable hands will see to the horses."
Hugh went through the costs with him, settled everything and confirmed the arrangements without needing to trouble Owen with any of it. The manager assured him that all of their needs would be seen to.
As the staff began carrying their luggage inside, Owen noticed some of the soldiers taking in the place. They served one of the wealthiest families in the Empire, but staying somewhere like this wasn’t something they did every day.
"Did you see the door handles?" one of them muttered to the man beside him. "I think they’re gilded."
"Don’t touch them," his companion said. "They’ll charge you for it."
Hugh glanced over. "Horses. Luggage. Then you can admire the door handles."
The two soldiers went, though Owen saw the second one grin as he turned away.
Owen stepped inside.
The entrance hall was spacious, with polished floors, expensive furniture and carefully arranged lamps. Well-dressed attendants moved quietly between the guests. It was clearly built to impress even wealthy visitors.
Owen thought it was very fine. It wasn’t home, though. The Ferrers residence was grand in its own way, but it was familiar and lived in. This place had never quite stopped trying to impress anyone.
Before they went their separate ways, he turned to Hugh.
"Make sure someone helps Agnes with her things," he said. "And she isn’t to start on her usual duties while she’s still injured."
"Young Master, I’m perfectly able to—" Agnes began.
"You’re supposed to be recovering," Owen said.
Agnes looked at him for a moment, then gave in. "Yes, Young Master."
"I’ll see to it," Hugh said.
Owen turned to the sisters. "Will you be all right tonight?"
"It’s late," Elise said. "We shouldn’t try to sort everything out now. We just need to let our father know we’re here, and that we’re safe."
"I can have a message sent tonight," Hugh offered.
"Thank you," Clara said. "That would be a great help."
The sisters were shown to comfortable rooms of their own, with their maid close by, to wait for word from their family.
A senior attendant showed Owen up to his suite.
The rooms were spacious and richly furnished. There was a large, comfortable bed, an elegant sitting area with finely made furniture, and tall windows looking out over part of the capital.
Owen looked it over with approval. It was certainly luxurious. But he had lived in the Ferrers residence for eighteen years, and comfort like this was nothing new to him.
The attendant explained what services were available and how to call for anything he needed, then bowed and left him alone.
Owen went to the window.
Below, carriages were still moving through the lit streets. Farther out, the lights of the city stretched away into the distance, more of them than he could count.
For a while, he simply stood there and looked.
He had finally made it to the Imperial Capital.
The journey had already given him more than he had expected. He had helped rescue two noblewomen, come through a hard fight, and gained an extraordinary third power for his Arsenal. Now he was somewhere entirely new, with a royal gathering ahead of him and the chance to meet people from noble families all over the Empire.
He found that he was looking forward to all of it.
Most of all, though, he wanted to see the city itself. Even from his window, he could make out streets and buildings he wanted to visit, and he found himself wondering what he might find beyond this wealthy district, out where the lights grew smaller and closer together.
But it was late, and he knew a night’s rest would do him more good than wandering unfamiliar streets with bruised ribs.
Owen finally turned away from the window and got ready for bed, already looking forward to a free day and a city waiting to be explored.