Brand-Bound: Hallowed Be The Menu [Rivals-to-Lovers Slowburn Fantasy Romance]

'House arrest' operated a little differently when you were being housed in a convoy on the move.

Zilara waited atop a 'tower' on a moving dais the size of a regular building. This landship was pulled by a team of dire-horses from the front and helped along by rotating teams of Branded pushing it from the sides with Menu-enhanced strength.

This was one of three similarly-sized landships moving one after another in a long line. Many smaller carriages were inching along, with these towers setting the pace. It was an archpope inaugural tradition to ring in the start of the pilgrimage season. The wooden tower was visibly rotting on the inside. Zilara got the impression they hadn't used the full convoy in many decades.

Days passed, with the procession ever so slowly making its way along the lone paved route through the volcanic soil of the Fellmarsh. Any one of these mobile buildings would sink into the swampy ground if even a single wheel veered off the path.

Windows and the lone door to Zilara's quarters were barred shut. What items were allowed were Menu-incompatible. She couldn't even access their descriptions. Neither could she access her inventory. The culprit was the one item on her person she was allowed to view.

This had been traded to the young girl's inventory as a precondition of not sending her to the Demon Lord's Fall torture chambers until she cast her portal spell again. Siccing the Arbiters on Jelena and Calaf would void the only chance she had for eventual rescue. So, she went with the ring option.

Food and water were hoisted up to her perch through an elaborate pulley system twice a day. Zilara took it in hand and ate it manually. She had trail mix and various supplies in her inventory, but was unable to access them with the cursed ring.

When footsteps approached up the rickety stairs, Zilara took notice. She so seldom received guests.

An older but hardly decrepit figure slunk up to the bars. Probably trying to scare her. Zilara failed to act surprised.

"Hello, cousin," said the familiar, smugly smiling face of Archpope Breakspear.

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Bede was his birth name. A member of the church of middling rank until he'd rigged the ecclesiastical elections to declare him pope. Overnight, he was perhaps the most powerful mortal man on the continent.

"We've been on the move for days," Zilara said, face neutral. "What're you running from?"

Bede shot her a piteous look. The twinbrand eyes they shared, inherited from the Holy Priestess, were reflected in the old man's steely grey eyes. It was their one point of commonality.

The twinbrand was quite common here in the churchlands. Back home, Zilara and her immediate maternal line were the only people who would ever bear the Brand. When Zilara looked at Bede, she saw in her mind's eye the brothers and uncles who never were.

"It's customary for the archpope to visit Riverglen for the start of the pilgrimage route." Bede's joyless smile flattened out into a thin line. "What's more, I have a power base down home. Administered the Southern Shackled Asylum for years."

Zilara frowned. She shouldn't have been surprised that the new archpope would know about the original use of the cavern where the Holy Menu was 'discovered'.

"Oh, it has a more churchly name. But we're equals here, two different branches of the same lineage, yes?" Bede asked.

"Didja know the Arbiters were all demons?" Zilara asked with a sly smile.

She had to find some angle to catch the Archpope off guard. A reminder that, despite his intricate plans, he couldn't account for every factor.

Bede shook his head a bit. He glanced at the bars of a nearby window, then leaned forward slightly.

"I had some suspicions," he said without missing a beat. "There's a great deal of discourse on this amidst the church higher-ups. Consider it a… known unknown."

Bede laughed to himself. Zilara was left mulling this over in silence.

"Kind of wondering what you're keeping me around for," Zilara asked eventually.

They wouldn't keep her alive if they didn't need her. People underestimated her because she was thirteen. Everyone other than, perhaps, Jelena. But this could be used to her advantage.

"That will be clear in time." Bede chuckled.

The archpope had no guards with him. They clearly assumed the young prisoner was no threat to the experienced Cleric. So long as Zilara still had this obsidian ring bound to her finger, that assessment was correct.

Bede was hiding something. They hadn't caught Jelena and the party yet; he'd be gloating right now. But there was some reason why they needed Zilara, or an heir to Acim and the other half of the holy lineage. If she were not of some use, Zilara was certain Bede would not hesitate to kill this loose end. Any member of the holy bloodline was a potential archpope-elect, after all.

The dias had begun to slowly move uphill, into the highlands. Dire-horses strained against gravity.

"Going to be a week before we reach the Old Capital at this point." Zilara grinned cheekily. "Hope you're not trying to run away from anything."

"Oh, we have all the time in the world," Bede said. "Pilgrimage doesn't start until the new archpope blesses the first convert of the season at Riverglen, yes?"

Bede stepped back into the shadows. This time, the stairs did not creak as he slunk away. Zilara was left checking the window. There were only thin, barred slits to the north and south-facing walls. Zilara looked north. From this high perch, she could just make out the faintest white streaks of glacial snow beyond the inhospitable badlands.

Everyone in the party was in a particularly bad way by the time Zilara teleported them back to the place of her birth. It was equally likely they could have perished out in the elements already. But if they survived, well, the convoy was a slow-moving target. One that would be hard to miss.

Zilara continued to stare out the window, waiting for rescue.