Chapter 372 - 106: The Silvercrest Banner

The settlement lay along the eastern road, where the farmland gradually gave way to low hills and scattered woodland. I had passed through it years ago with Marcus and Kalessie, usually when we needed supplies we couldn’t get from the villages closer to home. Back then, I had never given the place much thought. It was simply another settlement along a road we travelled when necessary.

Now, every building seemed to hold the possibility of an answer.

Silvercrest wasn’t far from where I had grown up. The realisation sat heavily with me as we rode into the settlement. All my life, I had imagined my birth parents somewhere beyond the familiar farms and villages, in a place I could barely picture. Yet the royal territory might have been closer than I had ever suspected.

Marcus rode beside me, his expression thoughtful. King Vance followed with two warriors, his presence drawing curious glances from people going about their morning business. Even without his crown, there was no mistaking his authority. The guards and the way people moved aside for him made that clear enough.

I tried not to think about what it meant to have the King of Silvercrest accompanying us on a search for the people who might know how I had come to be abandoned in the forest.

We had a name for our destination, of sorts, but no name for the woman we needed to find.

"Kalessie said the woman lived somewhere around this settlement," Marcus reminded me as we dismounted near a row of shops. "She didn’t remember the woman’s name or exactly where her home was."

"Then we ask until someone remembers her."

Vance glanced towards the shops. "Start with those who have lived here longest. If she has remained in the area, someone should know her."

It was a sensible suggestion. We left the horses with the warriors and approached the nearest shop.

The owner was a broad-shouldered man who looked up from arranging sacks behind his counter. He recognised Marcus after a moment, though I wasn’t sure whether he remembered me.

"You’re the farmer who came asking about a wagon years ago," he said.

Marcus nodded. "My wife made inquiries around here. A woman remembered hearing the wagon pass because it frightened her animals. We’re trying to find her."

The shopkeeper rubbed his chin, considering the question.

"That was a long time ago."

"I know," Marcus replied. "But do you remember who she was?"

"Not by name. My father might have. He kept this shop before me, and he knew nearly everyone who lived within a day’s walk." His gaze shifted to Vance, then returned to Marcus. "What exactly are you looking for now?"

"The same wagon," I answered. "We need to know where it was going and who was travelling in it."

The man looked between us. "You came asking about a baby, didn’t you?"

Marcus’s shoulders stiffened slightly. "Yes."

"And now you’re back with the King of Silvercrest, asking the same questions." He lowered his voice, though there was nobody close enough to overhear us. "You’ll have to forgive me, but I don’t know what’s happening here."

"Neither do we," I said honestly. "Not all of it."

Vance didn’t interrupt or offer an explanation. I suspected he had realised that announcing his reasons would only complicate matters.

The shopkeeper studied Marcus again. "My father may have known where the woman lived. He kept notes about people who owed him money and those who bought goods regularly. If she traded here, there’s a chance her name was written down somewhere."

"Could you check?" Marcus asked.

The man disappeared through a narrow doorway behind the counter. We waited while the sounds of movement came from the back room. I looked through the open entrance at the settlement, watching people carry baskets between shops and children run past a cart piled with firewood.

It was difficult to reconcile the ordinary morning around us with the questions that had followed me since childhood. Somewhere in this settlement, a woman might remember something about the day Marcus and Kalessie found me. Something that had been overlooked because, at the time, nobody knew how important it was.

The shopkeeper returned carrying a thin, worn ledger. He turned several pages, running a finger down the entries.

"Here." He tapped a name near the bottom of a page. "My father recorded a purchase made by a woman who lived beyond the old mill road. She brought eggs and dried herbs to sell occasionally. I remember her, though she must be old now."

"Is this the woman?" I asked.

"I can’t promise that. But the location is worth checking."

Marcus leaned over the counter to examine the entry. "Would you know how to reach her home?"

"Follow the old mill road until you pass the ruined mill. There’s a narrow track to the right. Her holding was along there." The shopkeeper closed the ledger. "She might still be there. People don’t always leave the places they’ve lived all their lives."

Vance thanked him, and we returned to our horses.

As we rode out of the settlement, I glanced at Marcus. "Do you think she’ll remember?"

"I think we should give her the chance to tell us."

He didn’t promise more than that. Marcus had never been good at offering comfort he couldn’t guarantee, and I was grateful for it.

The road narrowed as we left the last houses behind. Soon, the settlement disappeared from view, replaced by fields and a stretch of woodland. The old mill stood beside a shallow stream, its broken wheel leaning at an angle beneath a covering of moss. Beyond it, we found the track the shopkeeper had described.

A modest farmhouse stood at the end of the track. Smoke rose from its chimney, and a few chickens scratched around the yard.

We dismounted at the gate.

An elderly woman emerged from the house, wiping her hands on her apron. She stopped when she saw Marcus.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then her eyes widened with recognition.

"You’re the farmer who came asking about the baby."

Marcus stepped forward. "Yes. My wife spoke to you years ago about a wagon that passed through here."

"I remember." Her gaze moved to me, then to Vance and the warriors behind us. Her expression changed when she recognised the King. "Your Majesty."

Vance inclined his head. "We’re hoping you can help us remember something that happened many years ago."

The woman looked uneasy. She opened the gate and motioned for us to approach the house, though her attention kept returning to Marcus.

"I wondered whether I’d ever see you again," she admitted. "Your wife asked me about that wagon, but I couldn’t tell her much. I only heard it passing. My animals were making such a fuss that I went outside to settle them."

"Did you see the wagon?" I asked.

"Not clearly. I saw it from a distance, moving along the road. I couldn’t tell who was driving or how many people were inside."

My hopes sank a little, but I held on to the question that mattered.

"Do you remember anything about it?"

She hesitated, searching her memory.

"There was something on it. A banner, I think. Silver, with a crest worked into the cloth."

Vance went still.

I looked at him, then back at the woman. "What crest?"

"I couldn’t see the details well enough to describe it. But I’ve seen the Silvercrest emblem often enough to recognise the shape. I remember wondering why a royal wagon was travelling along that road."

Marcus stared at her.

"You never mentioned this when Kalessie came to ask you about the wagon."

The woman’s face tightened. "She asked whether I’d heard it and whether I knew where it had gone. I told her what I remembered. She was worried about the baby, and I thought she wanted to know if anyone had seen a person carrying a child. She didn’t ask me about a banner."

"But you knew it might have belonged to Silvercrest," Marcus said.

"I suspected it. I wasn’t certain, and I had no idea it mattered. You were farmers asking about a baby. Now you’re standing at my door with the same question, and the King himself has come with you." She looked from Marcus to Vance. "I don’t know what’s happening, but I can see this is no ordinary inquiry."

"No," I said quietly. "It isn’t."

The woman turned towards the house. "Come inside. I may remember more if I can sit down and think. There was another thing about that morning, something I didn’t understand at the time."

Vance’s attention sharpened. "What thing?"

She shook her head. "I don’t want to tell you something incorrectly. Let me think."

We followed her inside.

The house smelled of woodsmoke and dried herbs. She offered us seats around a small table, then lowered herself into a chair by the window. Her hands rested on the tabletop as she studied Marcus.

"You said your wife found the baby?"

"She was with me when I brought the child to her," Marcus replied. "I found Destiny alone in the forest. There was nothing with her except a stone."

The woman’s eyes lifted to mine.

"A stone?"

I nodded. "A pale stone with silver lines running through it."

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looked towards Vance, whose expression had become difficult to read.

"I don’t know anything about a stone," she said at last. "But I remember the woman who came asking about that wagon. She arrived not long after it passed, and she was frightened. She wanted to know whether anyone had seen it and whether it had continued towards the forest."

My pulse quickened.

"Did she say why she was looking for it?"

The woman pressed her lips together, trying to recall the conversation.

"Not exactly. But she said something before she left. Something about the wagon carrying the wrong child."

The room fell silent.

Marcus slowly straightened in his chair. Vance’s hand tightened around the head of his cane, and I found myself gripping the edge of the table.

"The wrong child?" I repeated.

The woman nodded, her face troubled.

"Those were her words. I remember them because I thought it was a strange thing to say. At the time, I assumed she’d lost track of someone else’s child and was searching for it."

I looked at Marcus. He was staring at the woman as if afraid that moving might interrupt her memory.

For the first time since we began asking questions about my birth, we had something more than a wagon, a road, and a stone.

Someone had believed a child was in the wrong place.

And that person had been looking for the wagon that carried it.