Most of the snow that had fallen the day of the battle had melted over the next few days, leaving only dirty patches hiding in the shadows. Still, for the most part, the weather remained decidedly cold. Autumn was officially finished, and winter had arrived. In the freezing winds, a silent crowd stood outside the royal crypt for hours as they removed Amrath’s body for the official state funeral. Many others were buried the same day. The funerals provided a cleansing of the entire city’s grief, followed by a weeklong period of mourning.
Among the dead was Wylin, the captain of the guard of Essendon Castle. He had fallen while directing the defenses at the castle gate. It was never determined if Wylin had been a traitor or had merely been deceived by the archduke’s lies. Alric gave him the benefit of the doubt and granted him burial with full honors. Although Mason Grumon died, Dixon Taft, manager of The Rose and Thorn, survived the battle with only the loss of his right arm just above the elbow. He might have died, along with many others, except for the efforts of Gwen DeLancy and her girls. Prostitutes, it turned out, made excellent nurses. The maimed and wounded who lacked family to care for them filled Medford House for weeks. When word of this reached the castle, food, supplies, and linens were sent.
News spread throughout Melengar of Alric’s heroic charge on the fortified gates. How he had survived the hail of arrows, only to bravely fling off his helm and dare them a second time—it made for great barroom stories. Few had thought much of the son of Amrath prior to the battle, but now he became a hero in the eyes of many. A somewhat lesser-known tale gained popularity a few days later as it, too, circulated through the city’s taverns. This outlandish yarn described how two criminals, falsely accused of the king’s murder, had escaped a torturous death by abducting the prince. The story grew with each telling, and soon these same thieves were said to have gone on a rollicking trip through the countryside with the prince, returning just in time to save the princess from the tower seconds before it collapsed. Some even claimed to have helped the thieves save the prince from a roadside execution, while others insisted they personally saw the princess and one of the criminals dangling from the side of the castle after the collapse of the tower.
Despite extensive searches, the dwarf whose hand had actually killed the king escaped. Alric posted a reward notice offering one hundred gold tenents on every crossroad sign and on the door of every tavern and church in the realm. Patrols rode the length of every road, searching barns, storehouses, mills, and even under the spans of bridges, yet he was not found.
Following the week of mourning, work began on repairing the castle. Crews cleared away the debris, and architects estimated at least a year to rebuild the lost tower. Though the falcon flag flew above the castle, the city saw little of Prince Alric. He remained sequestered within the halls of power, buried under hundreds of obligations. Count Pickering, acting as a counselor, remained in the castle along with his sons. He assisted the young prince in his efforts to assume his father’s role.
One month to the day after the burial of King Amrath, the prince’s coronation took place. By that time, the snows had returned and the city was white once more. Everyone came to the ceremony, yet only a fraction could fit inside the expansive Mares Cathedral, where the coronation took place. The majority caught a brief glimpse of their new monarch when he rode in an open carriage back to the castle or as he stood on the open balcony while trumpets blared.
It was a full day of celebration with minstrels and street performers hired to entertain the citizenry. The castle even provided free ale and rows upon rows of tables filled with all manner of food. In the evening, which came sooner with the shortening of the days, people crammed into the local taverns and inns, which were full of out-of-town visitors. The locals retold the stories of the Battle of Medford and the now famous legend of Prince Alric and the Thieves. These stories were still popular and showed no sign of going out of fashion. The day was long and eventually even the lights in the public houses winked out.
One of the few buildings still burning a candle was in the Artisan Quarter. It had originally been a haberdashery, but the previous owner, Lester Furl, had died in the battle the month before. Some said the plumed hat he had worn that day had caught the attention of an axe. Since then, the wooden sign of the ornate cavalier hat had still hung above the door, but no hats were for sale in the window. Even late into the night, the light was always on; however, no one was ever seen entering or exiting the shop. A small man in a simple robe greeted those nosy enough to knock. Behind him, visitors saw a room filled with the dried, hairless skins of animals. Most soaked in tubs or were stretched out on frames. There were pumice stones, needles and thread, and folded sheets of vellum piled neatly along the walls. The room also contained three desks with upright tops over which large sheets of parchment lay with carefully written text. Bottles of ink rested on shelves and in open drawers. The man was always polite, and when asked what he sold in his shop, he would reply, “Nothing.” He simply wrote books. Because few people could read, most inquiries ended there.