Sigurd nodded before releasing a large breath. "South gates, be there in half an hour and bring only what you can carry."
They each gripped the others forearm. "We'll see you soon."
The blacksmith took off back into the crowd without another word, leaning into someones ear every few steps and whispering their plan. Baldr did not stick around to see how the fight would turn out. Instead, he turned to say his goodbye to Sigurd so he could make it back to his office in time to divert patrols from the southern gates.
The pit keeper brought his gaze from the blacksmith he had convinced to fight another day to Baldr, his eyes betraying none of what the man was thinking as they eyed each other.
"Your actions have saved quite a few lives from Helvig's cruelty," Sigurd said softly, his tone at odds with his features. "There are manyvitkihere who have been working with me in the fighting pits for years, Finn included. Their families are all lovely and caring people, always seeing to it that everyone is safe and fed and cared for. A big reason we've survived under the radar has been because of Finn and his family. In the Creators Guild, as a blacksmith, he can get word to us sooner than most that a raid is coming. He may be a stubborn bastard, but he'll do more good for us in the war to come with his skill for metal work and strategy."
"You sound so certain that this will all end in another war."
Sigurd was quiet a moment before he spoke again, his words a heavy blow as they landed. "We have been destined for war since the last one ended. We, as a species, failed to be better. Now, we have to suffer the consequences of that stagnation. There will be loss of life, just as there will be tough decisions to make in the face of our morality. But we have a chanceto become better versions of ourselves if we succeed, our legacies can be one of kindness and compassion. That hope is all we have to hold on to, it has to be enough."
But what if it isn't?Baldr thought, but didn't voice.
He only inclined his head to the pit keeper so much wiser than his years as he wished him safe travels and turned back to disappear into the dry heat of Logi's streets.
We have a chance to become better versions of ourselves if we succeed, our legacies can be one of kindness and compassion.
Would his legacy be one of kindness or would the stains of his choices made in the name of duty be all that was left of him when he left this earth? Baldr didn't bother finishing the thought, he already knew the answer.
All night, Baldr had been circling the ballroom, trying to disguise his distaste for the celebration as he warred with himself over whether he had made the right choice earlier that day. The mob had dispersed quickly after their meeting ended, the risk of exposing his position worth the effort it took to get those innocent people to safety.
Sigurd and Finn would be long gone by now, their families and hope for a brighter future driving them toward the safety of their allies in the north. Already, Logi seemed to be a bit dimmer without their hope shining in the undercurrent of society.
As his thoughts turned to what Sigurd would find in Nida, Baldr tried to avoid thinking ofheragain.
In the time they were separated, they agreed that they would not even think of their names until they were reunited. But during a celebration like this, it was impossible not to think of her. The bountiful violet flowers summoned the memory of her eyes, taunting him every direction he looked while the delicate scent of chamomile floated around them physically pained him.
They agreed to no ties while separated. They were each free to be with someone else if they so chose. But Baldr would never be able to look at someone else again the way he looked at her. She had ruined him.
"General? Did you hear me?" Lord Torben asked, his voice sounding far away to Baldr.
He cleared his throat. "Apologies, my lord, what were you saying?"
"I only asked if you felt the King was making the right choice in planning to overtake the Kingdom of Rivers?"
It was treason to speak about this so openly. Two paths lie before Baldr now— only which was the right one?
"I trust that the High King has made the correct choice for all of us," Baldr said slowly as he held Lord Torben's eye. The lord nodded once, but before he could speak, Baldr continued. "I would recommend you keep your hesitations to yourself, my lord. Excuse me."
As Baldr walked away to lap around the dancers again, he nodded to one of his soldiers positioned in the shadows of the ballroom across a sea of twirling orange and yellow. As discreetly as an arrest could happen, the soldier escorted Lord Torben out of the ballroom with almost no disturbance to the festivities. If the lord was going to drunkenly reveal Baldr's intentions to plant seeds of doubt in Helvig's advisors, he needed to be silenced.
Just as he was about to disappear through one of the servant's corridors, his duty to report to the Midsommar celebration complete, the King's steward stopped him.
"His Majesty requests a word with you, General," Jonas muttered in his nasal voice that grated on Baldr's nerves.
Without another word, he headed for the podium. The stairs that brought him to the King were behind the platform, but Baldr wanted to be rid of those who drank and ate without a care as the rest of their city starved as quickly as possible, so he launched himself up onto the podium with a burst of his airgalderwhen no one was looking.
Reckless of him to use his hiddengalderso conspicuously.
If his skill with airgalderwas revealed, he would be executed on the spot. Over the years, since it had manifested, Baldr had managed to discreetly use it in ways that did not go noticed by the observant eye: unlocking chains forvitkito escape on the street so they could get lost in the crowd, aiding in his fighting so that he landed his hits harder and faster, sending notes and missives to known rebels in Logi with information on raids or patrols that would lead to morevitkibeing rounded up.
But he had been living on that fine edge of recklessness and caution for too long now. He couldn't find it in him to care if he was caught—maybe a swift death would be a mercy compared to what would happen to him if his role as spy was uncovered.
"You summoned me, Your Majesty," Baldr said as he bowed low, his fist over his heart.
"General," Helvig nodded to him. "Tell me why Lord Torben was just escorted out of the festivities."
