AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He appeared, sweaty and panting, his arrival abrupt and unexpected. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw me, and he stared as though he were looking at a ghost. His breaths came in rapid, uneven gasps as he struggled to recover from his sprint.
How very odd.
Cryssa extended her palm, and I cradled her fingers in the crook of my elbow as we stepped forward together.
“Your Highness.”
Almanera’s voice was high, breathy—an odd contrast to the tranquility in which we stood. He was a stocky man, his build robust and compact. He carried an air of physical strength, his muscles well-defined and his movements purposeful. His shoulders were broad, and his chest was solid, giving him an imposing presence despite his shorter stature.
His aura was a muted red, a violent slash of color without any shimmer. His lifesong buzzed low like the notes of a cicada. It told me all I needed to know.
Almanera was not a man to trifle with. The color of his aura was indicative of his temperament—a tempestuous and unpredictable disposition that could flare up at the slightest provocation. His lifesong warned of stubbornness and rigidity. Not the best combination in an ally.
“It is an honor to be in Boroville,” I said neutrally. “I’ve been meaning to visit your beautiful village for a long time.”
“Long time,” he repeated, the corners of his mouth dipping into a frown. “Yes. Welcome.”
“There was a mild mix-up,” Coman explained, coming up behind Almanera. “Apparently our message was not delivered. Their technology isn’t as advanced as ours, I’m afraid. My apologies, Your Highness.”
“No need for apologies, Coman.” I watched Almanera’s features tense visibly at Coman’s offhand comment about Boroville technology. “I’d be happy to wait if Almanera and his council would like to take some time to get ready?”
“We have been prepared for this day for many years. A decade, it seems.” As Almanera spoke, his voice carried an edge, and his frown deepened, signaling his irritation. It was clear that he had been waiting for something or someone for far too long, and his patience had worn thin. “We do not need any additional time to prepare. Please, come with us, and we will show you to our townhall.”
The townhall was set in a small cottage that was similar to many others in the main square. It had no distinguishing factors on the exterior façade. The walls, weathered by years of sun and rain, wore a warm, honeyed hue, and creeping ivy with delicate leaves adorned its wooden frame. A thatched roof, adorned with moss and blooms, added to the cottage's enchanting allure.
A cobblestone path led to the front door, where a wreath of wildflowers hung, welcoming visitors with its natural beauty. It was extraordinarily picturesque, like something out of a children’s fairytale.
Through the window, I spotted Almanera speaking to his council in hushed tones. His face was flushed, and his gestures were animated, punctuating his words with an intensity that couldn't be missed. When he caught sight of me, he gestured for his councilmembers to take their assigned seats.
It didn’t escape my notice that there was a distinct lack of diversity in his leadership—they were all male Alphas with strong, almost cloying scents.
The Boroville councilmembers wore a uniform of sorts. Their tunic was crafted from rough-hewn, earth-toned fabric, and the material bore the marks of time and repeated use. Loose and comfortable, the tunic offered ease of movement with wide, flowing sleeves that fell to the wrists. The neckline was adorned with a simple, hand-stitched pattern that added a touch of character—the Boroville emblem, perhaps? They were too far away to tell.
A leather belt, worn and weathered, cinched the tunic at their waists.
A spread of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries lined our tables. The smell of melted butter and sugar was a welcome interlude to my inspection of Almanera’s Alphas. I selected a treat from the table, intent on sampling the local fare.
Cryssa leaned close. “We don’t know these people, dearest. It’s not safe to eat.”
Such a pity that she was right.
I placed the pastry on a waiting plate and settled behind the desk, a few seats away from Almanera.
He still seemed frazzled and angered, the tension in his posture prompting me to sit upright. I glanced back at the doorway, taking comfort in the presence of the royal guard as they lined the path leading to the townhall.
Almanera wasted no time as the meeting began. He immediately launched into a discussion about self-governance, a topic which didn’t surprise Cryssa and I, especially after our earlier briefing. We exchanged looks, jotting down notes with a thoughtful hum.
Almanera’s passion for the topic was evident, and he spoke with conviction as he outlined his ideas and vision for the borderland’s future. He emphasized the importance of autonomy, accountability, and transparency in decision-making processes, and a step away from central control.
Almanera's speech seemed to resonate with many of his people in the room. The atmosphere became charged with energy and enthusiasm as they nodded and cheered and clapped. As he continued to elaborate on his proposal, the Alphas spoke up in support.
Alarm bells rang in my chest as Haladay spoke on our behalf, explaining Vetri’s hands-off approach to borderland politics. But that didn’t seem enough for Almanera and his Alphas. The discussion continued, minutes turning into hours. We circled the same topics unto tedium.
I was all too ready for a recessionary break when it rolled around before noon. Sticky heat lingered in the cottage, more oppressive and overbearing than Almanera himself. He stood with a scrape of his chair, nodding stiffly in my direction before excusing himself.
The sun showed no signs of abating, or taking respite behind a cloud. It beat down mercilessly, just past the small windows that were framed by mismatched pieces of wood. And yet, people outside milled around barefoot, undoubtedly used to the cruelty of the sun. Curious eyes peeked in every so often, and I noted that the villagers seemed healthy, strong, and well-dressed—all signs of a thriving village.
I pitied my guards, however. They stood just outside the townhall at their usual posts, covered head to toe in steel armor. While I had given them leave to take their helmets off to cool down, I couldn’t imagine the river of sweat they must be fighting off.
