For hours, Seraphina had been putting distance between them and Ingolstadt. She held the reins gently, but her back and shoulders ached from the hard seat. That wasn’t the only hardship. With every turn of the wheels, her heart sank deeper. She should’ve felt relieved the city was behind, but the world outside Ingolstadt was proving to be nothing like she remembered from a month ago.
The road had been emptier then, manageable with only a few travelers heading north. Now it was filled with people, and at first, she only sensed a few shadows drifting past, refugees and soldiers moving in both directions. Then more came, until the road was packed with bodies and the coach slowed to a crawl. She could hear children crying. Men pushed carts loaded with belongings, and the elderly struggled to keep pace.
The relic showed her their shadows pressing close to the coach, and she hunched lower in the driver’s seat, trying to make herself small. She could feel their eyes on her, and their looks were bitter. There was envy, suspicion, resentment. They stared at the glossy black landau with its gold leaf coat of arms, and at the well-fed horses pulling it.
Seraphina couldn’t see their faces, but she knew.
The horses grew skittish. She felt their reluctance in how they tossed their heads and tried to veer away from the crowds. It was becoming hard to keep them steady.
The front line was close, and Seraphina couldn’t understand how Ingolstadt remained untouched. It was as if the city was isolated, protected, existing in a sort of bubble, while out here the war consumed everything. The roads were chaos, the fields were trampled, and the people were fleeing north.
The coach was a liability now, drawing attention they didn’t need. It was too visible. They wouldn’t be able to cross into enemy territory like this, not when military checkpoints lay ahead. They would need to take back roads, slip through forests and fields, and avoid the main routes entirely if they wanted any chance of reaching the other side of the front line. And it would have to be done on foot.
When the occasion arose, Seraphina turned the horses down a narrow side road lined with trees. The branches created a tunnel overhead, blocking out the weak afternoon light, and the sounds of the crowd faded behind. The relic showed her a large shadow ahead, and she guessed it was an inn. Travelers and soldiers would stop here constantly – which meant news from the front – and she and Rune could rest, eat something hot, and decide what to do next. It was more than she could hope for.
She pulled the horses to a halt in the courtyard. They neighed and stamped their hooves, and within moments she heard light footsteps approaching. A stable boy, young from the cheerful way he moved, came to grab the reins and welcome her.
Seraphina hopped down, but kept her head bowed, her hood pulled low over her face. She reached into her pocket and pulled out one whole gulden, pressing it into the boy’s hand.
He gasped, recovered quickly, and then he was bowing, over and over, his words tumbling out in a rush.
“Thank you, ma’am, thank you so much. I’ll take good care of them, I promise. I’ll feed them, and water them, and brush them down proper, I swear it.”
“See that you do,” Seraphina said, and walked around the side of the coach.
She knocked on the door. Rune opened it but didn’t emerge.
“Why did we stop?”
She noticed the tension in his voice. He seemed cautious and agitated. A few hours in the enclosed space had brought back his fears, and she could sense his restlessness.
She placed her hand on his arm, feeling the solid muscle under the layers of fabric. He flexed, as if wanting to pull away, but then relaxed slightly.
“I found an inn. It’s better for us to stop, eat something, get a room, and clean up. We’re both tired, and we need to make a plan.”
He nodded but still didn’t move to get out. He tried not to let on that he was nearly paralyzed, but Seraphina had learned to read him. She pulled at his sleeve.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then come with me.”
He let out a sigh, and before he climbed down from the coach, she felt him tremble. He was steady on his feet, at least, and she led him toward the front door of the inn.
When they stepped inside, it was as if they had entered a new realm. Seraphina heard the crackle of a fire, logs popping and settling in a hearth somewhere to her left. The smell of wood smoke mixed with roasted meat, onions and cabbage, rich and thick, making her mouth water. The yeasty aroma of beer hung in the air, and she could hear the low murmur of conversations, the clatter of wooden bowls and spoons, and footsteps moving across wooden floors.
It wasn’t too crowded. Late afternoon meant most travelers were still on the road or had already settled in their rooms, and no one paid them any attention except for one person. Seraphina could sense her height as she approached. She was a sturdy woman, most likely the innkeeper’s wife.
“Welcome to the White Horse,” she said in a shrill voice. “What do you need?”
She had said “welcome”, but she wasn’t very welcoming. Seraphina could feel her eyes studying her and Rune, who hung back, head low and shoulders slumped.
Seraphina didn’t pull her hood off, and kept her head bowed as she answered. She was aware that it wasn’t polite, but she’d rather the woman didn’t see the scarf tied around her face.
“A hot meal. And if you have a room free, we’ll take it.”
“There is a room, but it’s one of the larger ones, so it’s more expensive.”
