“How come Lord Hezio is not accompanying us into town?” Thera asked as the company followed the young earl, Patrise vyn Barihd-Hezio, and his knights back down the path from Fort Trust Plateau.

“Grandfather rarely stays in Aeddelgild for long at a time,” Patrise replied, “He is the Lord Treasurer of Ellorye after all. He spends most of his time there.”

“What I wouldn’t do to be in the court of King Kirradan Loreseeker,” said Ephrym, shortly daydreaming of a life by the side of the king called the ‘Bookworm’.

“It is marvellous in the City of Scholars,” Patrise told longingly, “Muriella and I used to accompany Grandfather on his journeys home. Not anymore.”

“Why?” Thera inquired, pulling on the strap of her armour satchel to relocate it to a less sore part of her back.

“The Grand Duchess has forbidden it. I don’t know why our father listens to her though. She is crazy!” Patrise claimed. Then, noticing the stares of his own men, the young earl quickly looked to gain the attention of the hireknights, “You didn’t hear that from my mouth. Mother is not crazy, she is just sensitive to the nature of life in court. People threatened her once and it seems those threats have not left her even though the people who first uttered them have.”

“Who threatened your mother?” Galeforte asked.

Patrise shifted his attention to Lord Blackshield, his eyes nervous as if he had been caught slandering the regent; “I don’t know. It’s what Father said.”

The Earl of Ocarynne was barely a man. Fifteen years of age, Patrise would have confirmed his faith in Goddess this past spring.

The Confirmation was a big part of a young man’s life in Aeddelgild and the rest of the Enlightened World. It was the day a boy became a man and a prince became a ruler. It was a day of joy, a day where one accepted the Eternal Mother into one’s life with family and friends as witnesses.

“So, you are to protect my sister against all the evils in Aeddelgild?” Patrise changed the subject with a cocky smile, fearing his slip up had lost the respect of the hireknights, “She’s not in any real danger, you know. You are all just here for show. Here to fatten yourselves with crown gold under the northern sun.”

“You don’t know how to make friends, do you, my lord?” Noa asked, masking the sun with his hand as he looked up at the young earl. Patrise looked down from his horse, then he shrugged, “Friends don’t matter. Allies do.”

“Nothing matters,” Noa retorted, “We’re all going to die anyway. Kheïros is the goal, is it not? Might as well make some friends along the way so someone greets you in Mezaïa’s golden garden.”

“I would need them just as little when I die as I do now,” Patrise chuckled, “I would be in Odesium. Mezaïa’s own angels would take care of me.”

Odesium was a realm within Kheïros, the Eternal Mother Mezaïa’s heavenly garden of gold. It was a place of calming beauty considered to be reserved for those of noble blood.

“What a retort, my lord,” Noa burst sarcastically, pretending to feel defeated.

Patrise smiled, having outwitted the hireknight and being thoroughly satisfied about it. The party moved on for a while in silence, admiring the scenery of beige boulders resting on dunes and cliffsides.

After a while, the city came into view between two cliffsides. The north gate consisted of a garrison within a small fortress that covered the pass from cliffside to cliffside, barring direct entry into the city.

The fortress was made of white sandstone to keep away the heat and it had a flat roof, allowing a battalion of archers to move freely about the top of the building.

Patrise waved to the sergeant of the north gate and soon after the massive portcullis was raised for them.

“Do you know anything about the bandits in the mountains?” Thera asked as they walked through the north gate.

“Lady Anneka’s bandits? They won’t be your problem,” Patrise said condescendingly.

“They attacked us out by the last outpost,” Rotta hissed at the earl.

“What I mean is, they won’t be your problem any more,” Patrise explained nervously, “Lady Anneka loved my sister very dearly. If there’s someone who’s not in danger, it’s Mury.”

Ezperyme was a massive city within a valley surrounded by mountains. The largest mountain in the region, and the second largest mountain in all of Bellhame, rose into the skies on the eastern flank of the valley.

The Weeping Mountain was a hundred times the height of the Mother’s Spire in Dâl Kou’Rham, which was widely known for being the tallest building ever created by mortals. It was massive, casting a large shadow over the city which the natives had learned to use to read the time of day.

Upon entering the town, Patrise looked up at the battlement and caught the gaze of a guard.

“Where’s the shadow?” Patrise asked.

“It’s down past the Forge District,” the guard shouted back. Patrise thanked the man with a nod and pulled his horse back on track.

“We’re making good time,” Patrise declared, a satisfied smirk on his face.

The hireknights followed Patrise through the broad roads leading through the bustling outer districts of Ezperyme.

People were selling wares right out of their homes as none of the inhabitants in the area could afford to pay the Guild of Coin for a spot in one of the city’s two markets. Shouting about homebrewed spirits, potions, premium blades, flowers for your loved ones and yesterday’s bread echoed across the streets of Ezperyme.

Following close behind Patrise, whose horse forced people to give the group a wide berth, they made their way through the outer districts and into the central city where the biggest marketplace in the realm of Aeddelgild was located.

The Grand Market of Ezperyme was the size of a small village with a myriad of stalls and smaller shops. Only a few actual buildings had been built within the borders of the Grand Market and they all belonged to the Guild of Coin.

The hireknights kept an eye out for things of interest while walking through the city. Noa and Ephrym both spotted a gambling house called “Cheater’s Coin” where spirits were on the house. Rotta saw a pretty little gem of a weapon shop with all kinds of fun toys. Galeforte came upon a tent serving freshly baked bread every day and Thera found a blacksmith she found interesting.

After touring the market with their eyes, Patrise led them through to the Songbird District. A finer area, where lower nobles and rich merchants found their homes. A few taverns and an inn gave life to the district.

The young earl dismounted his horse and walked towards the inn’s double doors.

“This is the place you’ll be staying tonight,” Patrise introduced the inn, “Tell them you’re Lord Hezio’s guests.”

The inn was large, three storeys with a red tiled roof. Its walls of white planks, oiled to protect the colour from the sun. It had large windows which let light flow inside the serving hall, saving the owner some money on wax candles.

A sign hung above the warm and welcoming entrance, saying; “Welcome to the Dustmaiden Inn.”

“It’s the cleanest beds you’ll find in Ezperyme. And the food is already paid for,” Patrise told the hireknights, “I’ll come and get you tomorrow. For now, I will bid you goodnight and go announce your arrival to the court. Get some rest.”

Patrise excused himself with a formal bow and got back up on his horse. He and his knights rode away towards Castle Barihd, which could be seen peeking up above a large wall which separated the Palace District from the rest of the city.

Galeforte put down his armour satchel and looked at the others, “Alright. Thera and I will head inside and get the keys. You three should stay here and keep an eye on our armour until we have a safe place to store it. My back needs a rest.”

“So does mine,” Thera agreed, putting down her satchel as well. Her body ached. She was exhausted. She could not wait to get a proper meal and rest.

Rotta and Ephrym nodded, confirming they had heard Galeforte’s orders. Noa, however, began removing their satchels and belongings from his horse, “I’ll look for a stable for my horse. He should get some rest.”

“Fine,” Galeforte said, nodding to Noa’s request.

“It’s a mare,” Rotta said with a tone implying Noa was an idiot.

“No wonder it always tries to throw me off when I’m riding it then,” Noa fired with a chuckle.

“And stallions love you riding them, do they?” Rotta retorted rather quickly.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” Noa deflected Rotta’s attempt at attacking his honour with a flirtatious wink.

According to the Ei’Poq, the holy book of the Mezaïan faith, Mother Mezaïa believed that one should only lie with those of one’s own sex before getting married. This way basterds, and the shame they brought with them, was easily avoided.

However, due to the passage’s wording being; “A woman should love a man but lust for herself and those that will share the gift of motherhood”, this teaching was widely regarded as being for women only.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Men who shared their bed with other men were typically viewed in one of two ways; those who wasted their holy seed on another man were viewed as selfish and driven by lust rather than logic and those who received another man’s seed were viewed as cowards.

Lesser men who gave their bodies to others for protection and safety rather than fight their own battles. It was a dishonourable act, frowned upon in almost every realm within the borders of the Mezaïan faith.

Despite this fact, most nobles outside the Sovereign Theocracy of Tâl Taran did not restrain themselves from whatever pleasure they desired. Due to the size of their coin purse, they could usually afford the Mother’s forgiveness as well as the silence of their peers.

Galeforte turned and walked towards the inn with Thera close behind, leaving Noa and Rotta to their bickering banter and Ephrym as a witness.

The Dustmaiden Inn was a spacious establishment. The entrance led directly inside the main serving hall which was about the size of a lesser noble’s home. Round tables covered with white and grey tablecloths stood in three rows horizontally to the entrance, four wooden chairs around each with space for more to be added.

There was a space the length of a man’s height between the final row of tables and the front of the inn’s bar. The oaken countertop shone like it had been recently polished, matching the white teeth revealed by the smile of the man behind it.

“Welcome friends,” the barkeeper hailed the newcomers, causing a few of the Dustmaiden’s many guests to turn their heads in curiosity, “You look like you need a freshly cooked meal and drink.”

“That is exactly what we need,” said Galeforte, “We are guests of Lord Hezio. We were told there would be rooms for us.”

“Of course. You are the Blackshields,” the man opened the bar hatch and eagerly made his way towards Thera and Galeforte as if he had been expecting them for years, “I must say, on behalf of the citizens of Ezperyme; thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Galeforte said, the smile he made when unsure of what to make of a situation on his lips as he shook the barkeeper’s thankful hand.

After shaking Thera’s hand as well, the barkeeper pulled out two keys from his pocket and handed one to each of them, “These are for you. The only keys to your rooms so don’t lose them, otherwise I’ll have to send for a locksmith and they’re only sober two hours a day,” he joked, pausing to allow Thera and Galeforte to laugh with him but continuing quickly when they did not seize the opportunity, “When you’re ready, the boy by the stairs will take you to your rooms.”

“Then we shall go get the others and get settled in,” Galeforte announced, “When will dinner be ready?”

“Before the shadow has moved a metre,” the barkeeper replied. Hailing from the kingdom of Aeddelgild himself, Galeforte nodded thankfully and left the establishment, explaining to the confused Thera the concept of the Weeping Mountain’s shadow as they walked out.

* * *

Approaching midnight, Thera was unsure if she was still full from the food they had eaten some hours ago or if her stomach had finally reached its capacity for ale. She almost fell as she drunkenly turned to tell Galeforte a joke, only remembering he and Rotta went to bed after dinner when facing their empty chairs beside her.

“Are we too boring for their company?” Thera asked the twins who still sat by the table, empty cups in their hands.

“Of course we are,” Ephrym chuckled loudly, “They’re in love!”

“If monsters can love,” Noa said with a smile.

“Rotta is not that bad,” Thera defended her sister-in-arms, “She’s usually pretty friendly if you’re not nagging her all the time.”

“I think it’s too late for Noa, though,” Ephrym commented, “He likes poking the bears of Belhame but this one does not hibernate.”

“As long as she fights by my side, I can take it,” Noa grinned, “I probably started it anyway, though I can’t remember what I possibly could have said.”

“You’re a moron, Noa of Nothing,” Thera said with a friendly tone, “But you drink like it’s the last of our days so let us have another round!”

Hearing the chance to raise sales, the barkeeper started pouring before any of the hireknights had placed the order. Thera got up from her chair and went to the counter to pick up a new round of ales.

“Can we -” Thera began, but was abruptly cut off by the barkeep placing three foamy ales on the counter in front of her. She pulled back, a smile on her face and a wink in her eye; “You are my type of person, Sir Barkeep!”

“I do my best,” the barkeep smiled back at her.

“You know, neither of those knights are going to warm my bed tonight,” Thera said with a drunken smile. She had never been very good at flirting and the more inebriated she became, the more direct her methods.

“While you do tempt me to sin, my Lady, I cannot chance any children out of wedlock,” the barkeeper declined, “It would destroy the Dustmaiden.”

“Then you are in luck. My battle wounds have barred me from fulfilling Mezaïa’s wishes,” Thera replied, a spark in her eye as she grabbed the ales, “Think on it. None of your customers have caught my eye and it is good luck to find release before accepting a contract.”

The barkeeper laughed, smitten with the helmeted hireknigt in front of him. But before he had a chance to react to her advances, a younger man turned his drunken attention to Thera.

“None of his customers? I’d have you know we are regulars, thank you very much,” the man uttered, annoyed, “And I could show you a long night of loving if you asked.”

“But I didn’t,” Thera replied, her gaze staying on the barkeeper.

“I know,” the man continued, “That’s why I said ‘if you did’.”

“Be quiet and drink your ale, Mokim,” the barkeeper fired, his eyes more commanding than his tone.

“Why? I’ve got as much a right to my desires as you’ve to yours, Kellan,” Mokim replied dismissively, turning to Thera with a lustful smile, “And damned do I have a desire for you.”

Thera finally granted him his wish for her attention and sent him a piercing glare, “I think you should go home.”

“Not without you,” Mokim fired.

“Then sleep on the floor,” Thera suggested, “Just leave me alone.”

“Why?” Mokim asked, visibly frustrated, “I’m a catch! Everyone knows that Mokim makes your mind right after one night! Even Lady Muriella.”

“You haven’t bedded young Mury,” another man behind Mokim declared.

“I have so. Remember last fall when I was fired from the castle kitchen?” Mokim asked his brother-in-ale, “That was because the Royal Cook didn’t want anything to do with me should the Grand Duke find out.”

“Not so,” the other man said. Mokim looked around the room and saw other patrons of the Dustmaiden shaking their heads at his claims.

“Yes so! Happened after the Autumn Ball. I think it was her first night drinking and she entered the kitchens while I was cleaning dishes. Said I looked nice. Then she kissed me and bade me follow her to her chambers. Couldn’t say no to the Duke’s daughter, could I?” Mokim insisted. Thera was slowly beginning to regret letting Galeforte teach her Gillican, the language spoken in both kingdoms on the continent of Gillica.

“Not saying you’re lying Mokim. I’m just saying it didn’t happen,” the other man fired.

“If you don’t believe me just ask young Mury. She’ll tell you. I still talk to her, you know. I could have her come down here,” Mokim declared.

“It’s time for you to stop talking now,” a rough voice came from across the room. A man twice the size of Mokim looked in his direction, “The Duke’s daughter is a sweet soul. One of Mezaïa’s favourites. She wouldn’t even touch you with the tip of a spear, so I think you should stop smearing her good name before me and my lads smear you across the ground outside.”

“You couldn’t even if you wanted to,” laughed Mokim. It did not take long for him to wipe the smile off of his face when the large man and three of his companions got up from their table and headed towards the bar.

Mokim put down his ale and darted towards the exit, though he did not get very far as Thera put her foot in front of him and let him fall to the floor.

“Doing Mezaïa’s work, my Lady,” the large man said, nodding thankfully to Thera as he grabbed Mokim by the neck and pulled him outside.

Listening as Mokim’s pleas for mercy and terrified cries echoed through the sleeping streets of Ezperyme, Thera turned her attention back to Kellan only to be interrupted a second time by her own companions.

“What in the four realms of Oros happened there?” Noa asked, sliding onto the chair in front of the counter and grabbing one of the ale’s out of Thera’s hand.

“It was just a suitor who did not have the balls to back up his cock,” Thera replied, satisfied with the outcome of the encounter.

“Well, I do,” Kellan said, “And I’d be honoured to join you after I’ve closed the bar.”

“And when is that?” Thera asked, her eyes shining beneath her helmet.

“When I decide to,” Kellan replied, “So I think you three should empty those beers so I can finally witness what beauty lies beneath that helmet.”

Noa and Ephrym broke out into laughter, confusing the barkeeper for a second before Noa drunkenly declared, “She does not remove that helmet for anything except bathing and she does that alone.”

“Is that true?” Kellan asked, a smile hiding his scepticism.

“It is,” Thera confessed, “I was to be married once. Then he died and I swore to hide my beauty and only unmask myself once I meet him again in Kheïros. He gave me this helmet and I shall carry it till I can give it back.”

“That is very sweet actually,” Kellan admitted, “Now I wish I had a lady as devoted as you.”

“You will tonight,” Noa chuckled, “And if you’re lucky she’ll raise her visor.”

“Shut up,” Thera fired, hitting Noa on the arm hard enough for him to rub it after.

Kellan and Thera smiled at each other, their gazes meeting in a warm embrace. She picked up her ale and began downing it, but got only half way as a large hand grabbed her shoulder from behind.

She turned around and was ready to fight, but was pleasantly surprised to find that it was the large man from earlier. His knuckles were covered in blood and his smile was wide, “It makes me happy when newcomers show young Mury the respect she deserves.”

“Young Mury?” Thera asked.

“Lady Muriella,” the large man explained, “But we call her Mury as she is a friend to us.”

“To who?” Ephrym interrupted. The large man’s eyes darted towards Ephrym, “The people. All of us. She used to take daily strolls through the city to check in on the guilds, but that was before her parent’s confined her to the castle. She and the Archscholar used to visit the Guild of Coin all the time. I myself taught her a lot about the art of trade.”

The large man chuckled, fond memories rushing through him, “We don’t see her a lot anymore, but our love for her is strong. So thank you for helping us show that scoundrel what’s right.”

“You are welcome,” Thera replied, shaking the hand of the large man before he and his friends returned to their seats.

The three hireknights stood a while in silence, thinking about what the large man had said.

“What is the people’s opinion of Muriella?” Thera asked Kellan.

“They miss her,” Kellan confirmed the large man’s statements, “She’s not been outside the Palace District since Lady Anneka’s uprising and you can feel it in the streets. Don’t get me wrong, people like the Grand Duke, but when the heiress takes the throne there will be a celebration rivalling the Day of the Mother.”

The Day of the Mother was a day celebrated throughout all the Mezaïan kingdoms of Belhame. It was a celebration of their Goddess. Her love and grace. A tribute to the year gone by and a toast to the new one. It was the greatest feast known to mortals and not a single kingdom spared any gold.

Safe to say, the people of Ezperyme were enamoured with the Grand Duke’s daughter.

“She’s not in any danger is she?” Thera asked as she finally allowed herself to believe the contract would be the easiest they had ever had.

“These are going to be the best six months of our lives,” Ephrym grinned, raising his cup, “To the safety of the Duke’s daughter!”

“To the Duke’s daughter!” was echoed by the other patrons of the Dustmaiden. The three hireknights laughed as they downed their ale, Ephrym and Noa retreating to their rooms shortly thereafter.

Thera looked up at the barkeeper and pushed forth her cup, “It seems I’ve got no more ale.”

He smiled knowingly, “It seems so.”