The Blackshields and the young earl of Ocarynne were waiting outside the Dustmaiden Inn when Thera returned the morning after, a wide grin showing beneath her helmet. Her companions clapped and cheered as she took a bow before them.

“Why are we cheering?” Patrise asked.

“The Lady of the Land got lucky this night,” Ephrym explained joyously.

“She won something?” Patrise inquired, completely unable to read between the lines.

“She had sex, Patrise,” Noa told matter-of-factly.

The young earl’s face reddened, “I see. Congratulations, Lady Knight, it looks like she made you happy.”

“He did,” Thera corrected, her smile still wide.

Patrise’s grimace changed accordingly to the new information, “Oh. A man. I don’t condone such endeavours. Young ladies should not have such relations with men they’re not married to. What if you bore a child?”

“That’s impossible. Mezaïa’s gift was taken from me by a soldier in Fort Grahl,” Thera replied, her smile vanishing, “Or was it the one on Mirdahl Fields?”

“I think it was the duellist in Karaska,” Rotta tuned in, joining Thera in her mockery of the young earl’s position.

“Then you are lucky. Maybe the Mother ensured that loss to compensate for your poor judgement skills,” Patrise fired, annoyed with the women around him. Thera took a step back and looked the young earl up and down, then, remembering who he was, she caught his gaze and with a slight sneer she uttered; “I am sorry for sinning in your city.”

“Not to worry,” Patrise said, a smile on his face as he yet again defeated the hireknights verbally, “There is a church in the Garden District. You can ask for forgiveness there.”

Thera stared at the young earl, trying to figure out whether he wanted her to go now or later. Patrise did not seem to mind her as he elegantly mounted his horse and looked towards the castle, “We should go now. I’ve been tasked with introducing you to the Palace District before your meeting with the Grand Duke.”

The party set out, wearing the same clothes as they had the night before. Thera was hungover, her head was pounding and her mouth was dry. Noa, who looked just as bad as Thera, walked up to her with a smug look on his face.

“What are you if not proud when your private life is scolded by a fifteen year old?” He asked.

“Tired,” Thera replied.

To the east of the Old Market Square, which was the other large market in the city and the easternmost part of the Songbird District, was a large wall called the Duke’s Ward. There were two paths through the Duke’s Ward; one in the Old Market Square and one in the Garden District.

Patrise took them through the one in the market, bringing them inside the Palace District within half an hour. Immediately on the other side of the Duke’s Ward were the palace stables along with all the Grand Duke’s horses.

The three hungover hireknights went up to one of the horses’ water troughs to have a sobering drink and wash their faces.

“You can bring your horse up here if you want,” Patrise told Galeforte and Rotta while they waited.

Galeforte nodded, showing he had heard the earl, before returning to wait in silence. When the drunkards had rejoined the party, they moved further into the district. Many mansions and manors decorated the streets around the castle.

The homes of the richest people of Ezperyme. Large gardens surrounded the beautiful buildings, tended to by the Sages of Belhame.

The people of the Palace District were not as outgoing as the people of the rest of the city. No children ran up to look at the hireknights and no adults greeted them with smiles. Most merely waved before leaning close to their friends to whisper.

Thera kept an eye out while the party walked through the richer parts of town, trying to see if any nobles looked annoyed with the arrival of Muriella’s protectors.

“These are the Homes of the Free Lords,” Patrise explained, “All my father’s closest allies live around here. Only a few get to live in the castle.”

Castle Barihd was not a giant castle like the one in Caz Carryl, though it was the biggest building in Ezperyme. It rested on top of a small hill of rock which also served as the entrance to the Clan Barihd Mine.

The main road through the Palace District led up the hill to the castle gate, while another, smaller road diverted from the path and led to the mouth of the mine.

Many miners were walking in and out of the mine with wooden carts filled with rock and baridel. Overseers walked among the miners as well, making sure every bit of baridel ended up in the carts.

“That is the baridel mine,” Patrise said, “Baridel is used for bluesteele.”

“We know what baridel is,” Thera fired quickly, “I wear it.”

“I did eye your helmet earlier. A masterpiece,” Patrise admired her helmet, “It is because of equipment like that that the Grand Duchy thrives.”

Moving past four large buildings of black and beige boulders, Patrise continued, “Our forges are always ablaze and our smiths are always working. Aeddelgild is very proud of its steelwork.”

The four workshops had only three walls, the fourth missing to allow for direct entry and air flow. Twelve smiths were working in each forge, six anvils shared by pairs of two.

The clanging of their hammers echoed through the streets and the warmth of their fires was almost felt by the passersby.

“The miners are the heart of our society. Without them, Aeddelgild would still be a duchy under the banner of the Kingdom of Hymber,” Patrise explained.

Thera looked towards the mine and witnessed one of the overseers handing a miner a cup of water.

Following the road up the hill, their attention turned to the castle. It did not have spires, but fatter, smaller archery towers that were built to withstand the force of catapults.

The castle itself was split in two, one part on the lower half of the hill and the other on the upper. The lower part had the main gate with two towers on either side of it.

Behind the main gate was the courtyard and the castle garden. In the centre of it stood a statue of the first Grand Duke, Corym vyn Barihd, within a fountain of water that sparkled in the sunlight. Running around the courtyard were large walls which held the servants’ living quarters behind them. Another gate opened in the wall to the left of the main gate and led into the castle garden.

On the opposite side of the courtyard from the main gate was a roofed staircase which led further up the hill and into the second part of the castle.

Some ladies of the court as well as their children spent their morning with a walk around the castle garden, their piercing stares darting in the direction of the hireknights when they stepped through the gate.

“This is the courtyard of Castle Barihd and the man you see in the fountain is -” Patrise was cut short by the sound of hooves behind them, “Uncle!”

The hireknights turned around to witness a squad of knights riding up the hill and into the courtyard, dismounting around Corym and letting their horses drink from the fountain.

They were following a golden clad knight who had ridden in front, a knight banner flying the colours of Aeddelgild on his back.

“That’s my uncle,” Patrise explained, “Pataly vyn Barihd. My father’s most trusted general and little brother. One day Cemrald and I will be like father and Pataly.”

The earl nodded towards a young boy who was dressed almost like Patrise himself. They had the same eyes, hair and nose, the only difference being their age. Where Patrise was on the road to adulthood, Cemrald was still a child.

Galeforte let out a chortle when he saw the Earl of Faronny, turning to Thera and whispering; “That’s my father’s lord.”

“Are those the people that will look after Mury?” Asked Cemrald, his eyes somehow innocently spiteful.

“Yes, Cemrald, these are the hireknights,” said Patrise, his tone patronising.

“Do they know how to have their eyes open all the time?” Cemrald asked, staring with wide open eyes towards his brother.

“Of course we do,” Galeforte said with an assuring smile, treating the boy like the ten-year-old he was.

“Then remember not to let them fall out,” Cemrald told Lord Blackshield, blinking a couple of times before running away into the garden. The boy disappeared quickly behind hedges and beds of tall wildflowers.

“There they are,” Patrise said after a moment of silence, pointing towards the stairs of stone which led to the upper part of the hill.

The Grand Duke stepped onto the stairs, his golden attire sparkling in the morning sun. He made his way down towards the courtyard while the knights and Pataly waited at the bottom.

Behind the regent followed his daughter, dressed in a golden gown of her own. She was looking out over the courtyard, making sure she locked eyes with as many as possible and giving them each an individual wave.

Patrise made a clicking noise at his horse and had it walk towards the fountain where he dismounted and left it. He and the hireknights made it to the bottom of the staircase at the same time as the Grand Duke.

The young earl stepped forth and cleared his throat, making ready to announce the hireknights just before he was cut short by his father.

“Lord Blackshield!” Echoed the powerful voice of the Grand Duke.

“Grand Duke!” Galeforte replied, trying to match the regent’s fervour.

“Please, you’ve been here before,” the Grand Duke said, “Call me Argoste.”

“Then you must call me Galeforte,” Galeforte shook hands with Argoste before turning his attention to Pataly, who was approaching the pair at a relaxed pace.

“I saw what you did to the bandits on the road,” he said as he removed his white and gold helmet, “Impressive work. I am Knight Commander Pataly, Bannerlord of Aeddelgild.”

The Bannerlords of Belhame were lethal knights who had been chosen to ride with their regent’s banner, or the banner of their order, on their back. They were not always the commander of their battalion, though Pataly was, as the prerequisite for becoming the Bannerlord was not based on strategic mind but on skill with a sword.

Fighting with a banner on your back was usually a clunky ordeal, not to mention the heavy plates most knights wore. That meant only the most talented swordsmen were allowed to ride into battle as a Bannerlord, their skill making up for the handicap the banner imposed.

This also meant that most battles depended on defeating the opposing Bannerlord. Soldiers witnessing their greatest fighter fall usually routed shortly thereafter.

“Those who’re not lying on Duke’s Passing ran back into the mountains,” Galeforte replied as he shook the Bannerlord’s hand as well, “Lord Galeforte Blackshield.”

“In a hurry were you?” Pataly asked with a grin.

“Rather scare them off than have to kill them all,” Galeforte quipped, “I’d hate to show up tired for a contract.”

“Well, not to worry. We found them, didn’t we boys?” Pataly turned his head towards his knights who all cheered as they produced the heads of their adversaries from burlap sacks.

“They would have died anyway come winter,” said Patrise, a sour grimace on his young face.

“You’re just jealous your mother won’t let you ride out with us,” Pataly fired, roughing up the young earl’s hair with a patronising hand.

Patrise grew angry and stormed off, yelling at his father; “Why can’t you just tell mother that I didn’t go instead of forcing me to stay behind castle walls!?”

Argoste did not answer the boy before he had left, instead taking a deep breath and turning back towards the hireknights, “I thought it would make him happy to escort you back from Fort Trust. To get some air and the off chance of action. I see I was mistaken.”

“He’s a man now. His lust for adventure must be sated or he’ll run off to become a hireknight,” Galeforte warned.

Argoste broke into laughter, “I know I signed your Oath of Neutrality the moment you put the parchment on my table but he would not have such an easy time escaping this kingdom. No, he will learn instead of leave. And he is not why you are here.”

Argoste put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder, bringing her forward with a soft push, “My daughter. Muriella. Over the course of today I would like all five of you to get acquainted with her and,” turning to his daughter he continued, “I would like for you to show them around the castle. Bring them to your mother’s chambers an hour before dinner.”

“Of course, father,” Muriella said with a nod.

“Alright. I will speak to you later,” Argoste said, his gaze on Galeforte. Then he turned to his brother and his knights, “Let’s go celebrate your victory!”

With joyous smiles, Pataly and his knights followed the Grand Duke up the stairs, leaving Muriella alone with the hireknights.

“Weren’t we supposed to sign the contract?” Noa asked.

“I asked for this,” Muriella confessed quickly. The young lady stepped towards the Blackshield Company while swiftly tying her long auburn hair up in a loose knot, “I would like to get to know you rather than have five silent watchers in my room for the next six months. So I thought we should go for a walk and that I would present you with the conditions for your hire. Instead of my father.”

“I thought it was pretty clear. We protect you until the Day of the Mother and then we await and see if you need us any further, my lady,” Galeforte said.

“Yes. In a moment we shall go through my father’s conditions,” Muriella continued, “They are rule and law and must be obeyed. But most important are my conditions. And of those, there is just one, actually; Do any of you talk? Not talk as “yes, my lady,” “no, my lady” but speak. Poetically, strategically… casually?”

“I suppose I am guilty of indulging in such matters,” Noa quipped, “Sir Noa of Nothing.”

Muriella chuckled, “Peculiar. Then we shall have much to discuss. Any others? I need at least one talker on all shifts which are to be covered by pairs of two.”

The other hireknights stood in silence for a moment, observing the girl and taking in the change of the contract. Their job would be to entertain her in her isolation.

“I heard my brother recommended my company for this job,” Galeforte chuckled, “I suppose he thinks I’m good at talking.”

“Who is your brother?” asked Muriella.

“The Warden of Faronny. Your youngest brother’s steward,” Galeforte explained.

“I know him. Gabrael vym Kamhergard. He wants to marry me,” Muriella said with a feigned interest, “Then you can tell me all about him. My father thinks he is a suitable choice in the pool of middle aged men that seek my hand. What do you think?”

“My brother is a decent man. Honest. Quiet. Old,” Galeforte told her.

“Then it will be like a mentorship,” Muriella said, thinking it over, “I don’t think I would like that. I’ll have to reject your brother. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Galeforte fired, “It’s not my heart you’re breaking.”

Muriella smiled, satisfied with Galeforte’s conversational engagement. Then she looked around at the remaining three, “What about you?”

“I talk plenty,” said Thera, her hangover finally leaving her body, “I could tell you of battles. If you want.”

“I would love to!” Muriella exclaimed, “We must do that on your first shift. Do you know of any fighting tricks?”

“Are you looking to fight someone?” Thera asked.

“You never know. Up until a year ago, I could put both my brothers on the floor without breaking a sweat,” Muriella said, “Then Patrise beat me once and now mother won’t have us fighting any more. But if I could beat him again, then maybe she would let us fight again.”

A nearby bird sang a sweet little song before it was suddenly hit by one of Rotta’s mouth darts. While Muriella and Thera had spoken, Rotta had rolled her tiny wooden cylinder onto her tongue and taken aim in secret.

The bird fell from the tree it had been sitting in, blood spraying from all of its orifices. The act took all the hireknights by surprise as well as Muriella.

“A trick like that?” Rotta asked, hoping to rouse the confident sixteen-year-old.

“I’m not looking to kill my brother, but that was something,” Muriella confessed with an unsure smile, “What was that?”

“A blowpipe,” Rotta explained.

“A small one,” Muriella said, “Can I see it?”

Rotta picked out the wooden cylinder from its hiding place underneath her tongue and held it towards the young heiress, “The darts are even smaller.”

“Is this safe?” Muriella asked, holding the mouthpipe up in front of her eyes.

“It’s effective,” Rotta said.

“Have you ever swallowed a dart?” Muriella asked, “What kind of toxin are you using?”

“Not yet and the venom from a Nethling Wyvern,” Rotta answered swiftly.

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“That’s the longest conversation anyone has ever had with Rotta,” Noa fired from a safe distance behind the young heiress.

Rotta looked up at Noa with a gaze that could kill, only to have her attention reclaimed by Muriella, “That is a record I aim to break.”

Rotta smiled at the young heiress as she was handed back her mouthpipe. While Ephrym stepped forth, Rotta reloaded her mouthpipe with a dart and put the thing back in her mouth.

“I am Sir Ephrym of Everything,” Ephrym introduced himself.

“Do you think much of yourself?” Muriella asked.

“I think myself an optimist,” Ephrym replied.

“Splendid,” Muriella said, “I sense I shall have fun these next six months. Now, how about that walk in the garden?”

* * *

The Castle Garden was a big part of the hilltop on which the castle was located. So big, in fact, that it suddenly made sense why the castle itself was so much smaller than other castles Thera had seen in her life.

Wide fields of green grass adorned the hilltop, neatly trimmed hedges and statues of marble decorating the scenery. At least five sages were tending the garden at all times, using their magic to make sure that the sun did not kill the flora with its rays.

The hireknights had spent the first half hour of the walk agreeing with different conditions for their hire put forth by the Grand Duke.

At least two of them had to be by her side at any time, even while she slept, and if she was to leave the Palace District, she would have to be accompanied by four of them.

Should the young heiress perish while under their care, the one’s on duty while it happened would be executed and the rest would be discharged without pay.

While staying at Castle Barihd, all their expenses would be paid by the Grand Duke. They were to eat with Muriella and her father while on duty and eat with the other knights and soldiers of Ezperyme while not.

They were to sleep in Muriella’s apartments, her music room having been made into makeshift living quarters for the hireknights.

“Now, for some bad news, there are only four beds in my music room as I thought there were only four hireknights in your company,” Muriella finished off.

“That’s alright, my lady,” Galeforte assured her.

“Please call me Mury. ‘My lady’ is so formal,” Muriella said, “And of course two of you must be watching me at all times, so actually there is a bed to spare rather than one missing.”

The young heiress giggled at her own joke, half expecting the hireknights to join her. When they did not, she shrugged it off and carried on, “I think that is everything. Do you accept the terms of your hire?”

“We do,” Galeforte confirmed.

“Excellent,” Mury said, satisfied with their talk, “Then all there is left to do is sign the contract. Which my mother has in her chambers and we’re not supposed to go there for another five hours. What to do?”

The hireknights stood in silence while Mury observed them. Noa cleared his throat after a while and looked around at the others as he gathered their attention, “If I may suggest something?”

“Please,” Mury said with a smile, waving her hand at the ground as if giving Noa space to take the floor.

“Ever played guard the flag?” Noa asked.

Mury shook her head, “No.”

“It’s a classic in Caz Carryl,” Noa continued, unsheathing his sword and plunging it into the ground, “This will be the flag. One person has to guard the flag and make sure that no one else touches it. If someone else touches the flag and shouts ‘Every man is free’ the guard loses. To win, the guard must imprison all other participants and to do this he must touch the flag and shout their name as well as where they are hiding. Or where the guard saw them last. If you hear your name and you are, or recently were, where the guard says you are, then you have been caught and must go to the flag and stay there as prisoner until the guard has either won or lost.”

“So it is all against one?” Mury asked.

“With the odds in the guard’s favour, yes,” Noa said with a nod, “Shall we?”

Mury thought for a moment, then she nodded as well, “I think we should -”

“Heiress!” A voice called across the garden. Mury and her protectors turned to see a young, well dressed man walk at a fast pace towards them, an older man following close behind.

“Lord Romeo!” Mury called back towards the young lord. He was in his late twenties, maybe a year or two older than Thera. As he neared, the Lady of the Land noticed he looked nervous. Uncomfortable even. And the feeling grew stronger the closer the older man behind him got.

“I saw you across the garden and I thought it’d been too long since last we spoke,” Romeo said with a panting stutter. He looked over his shoulder, then brought his gaze back to Mury, “I brought the Archscholar. Hope that is alright.”

“Tarky is always welcome in my company,” Mury said.

“As you are in mine, young heiress,” the older man said as he caught up. He was dressed in heavy robes, multiple books hanging from chains by his hips and a large tome hanging from his neck. The Ei’Poq. The most important book one could read.

“You must be the hireknights. A pleasure to meet you,” the Archscholar said, putting forth his hand towards Thera, “I am Gradabos Tarkhart, Archscholar of Aeddelgild.”

“Lady Thera of the Land,” Thera greeted, her gaze shifting between Tarkhart and Romeo as she tried to figure out why the younger man was nervous.

“And this is Lord Romeo vyn Rigordio, the court’s very own artist. The statues of the Grand Duke and his predecessors that you see in this garden were all made by these hands,” Tarkhart announced, grabbing Romeo tightly by the wrist and bringing up his hand, “A shame that there are no more rulers of old to carve into marble. What will become of your talents now?”

“I will find something new to put my hands to,” Romeo assured, “Something simple that we can all enjoy with a glass of wine. Together. As friends.”

“That is comforting to hear, my lord,” the Archscholar said, letting go of Romeo’s wrist and turning his attention to the hireknights, “I shall excuse myself as I have much to do today. If you’ve any questions about the history of Aeddelgild I’d be more than happy to answer them if you come by my chambers. Otherwise, ask your ward. I’m sure Mury has learned a thing or two during the years that I’ve been tutoring her.”

“Just the one,” Mury fired with a sly smile.

“Just one thing?” Tarkhart retorted with an equally sly smile. His demeanour was a lot less intense when conversing with the young heiress than when he spoke to the sculptor.

“I’ve learned you get annoyed when I don’t read my books,” Mury quipped.

“And I’ve learned that twice the amount of candles are brought to your chambers during the month before your yearly examination than there are during all three months of winter combined,” Tarkhart replied, “But now I must be going. Enjoy your day.”

Gradabos Tarkhart sent a final glance towards Romeo before walking towards the upper parts of the castle. Another staircase, similar to the one in the courtyard, was located in the garden. It had a few more guards than the one in the courtyard and no walls held a roof above it.

Romeo’s gaze was fixed on Tarkhart’s back for a long time as he walked away, his breathing slowing down as the distance between them increased.

“What was that about?” Asked Mury, placing a hand on top of Romeo’s to calm him.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it, so,” Romeo laughed nervously, “Better not play with fire.”

“The art of provocation finally paid off, huh?” Mury inquired.

Romeo chuckled, “Rather effectively. What are you up to?”

“We were about to play a game,” Mury said, “Guard the flag.”

“We used to play that a lot when I grew up in Ocarynne,” Romeo said excitedly, “I would be honoured to join for a round or two. Are we all playing?”

“I think Rotta’s keeping watch,” Galeforte said, looking to his lover for confirmation. She nodded and crossed her arms, staring silently at the new addition to their group.

“Then she can keep me company while I guard the flag,” Romeo suggested, turning towards Rotta, “My lady.”

“Do not call me lady,” Rotta demanded, “Call me knight for that is what I am.”

“We shall have a mighty time, my knight,” Romeo burst.

Having volunteered, Romeo was the first guard of the day. After being told everyone’s name, he began by covering his eyes and counting down from thirty while the others hid in the garden.

Rotta stood vigilant watch while Romeo was blinded, making sure she knew where everyone had hid so she could follow along in silence.

The first to be caught was Thera, her helmet shining brightly in the sun. The second was Noa with Ephrym shortly after.

Romeo chuckled, missing only two before he had won. Galeforte and Mury.

Rotta laughed as watching the top of Galeforte’s head bobbing sneakily about behind some hedges without Romeo noticing amused her.

In the end, her laughter and gaze gave him away and Galeforte was imprisoned as the fourth.

Mury watched from behind the statue of her great grandfather as Galeforte made his way to the flag. She held her breath and waited for Romeo to leave his post.

As the sculptor went to go looking for her, she snuck closer to the flag using a wide, rectangular hedge as her cover.

He was further from the flag than he had ever been before, his back turned to her location. She made a run for it. Speeding past the hedge, she turned a corner and waved at the prisoners as she made her way to free them.

Wide smiles spread on their faces as they witnessed the ecstatic heiress sprint towards Noa’s sword. The sound of her feet running across the ground alerted Romeo, who quickly turned around and ran towards the flag.

He was faster than her, but she was closer. Mury gave it her best, pushing her body to its limit. When she saw that Romeo would come first, she leaped towards the flag. She landed on the ground, her fingers grazing the blade as she yelled; “Every man is - ouch!”

Romeo touched the hilt, “Mury in prison. Right in front of me.”

Mury sent Romeo a defiant glare as she walked over to the others, sucking on the finger she had cut on the blade.

After the hireknights had made sure the young heiress was alright, the game continued. As Thera was the first to have been caught by Romeo, she was the next guard.

The hireknights played Guard the Flag with Mury and Romeo for a couple of hours, until Romeo grew tired and excused himself. After his departure, Mury admitted her exhaustion as well.

They spent the remaining amount of time sitting on a bench which was located near the edge of the hilltop. From there, they could see most of Ezperyme besides the districts directly behind the Duke’s Ward. The massive wall of sandstone which separated the Palace District from the rest of the city.

For an hour, they sat mostly in silence, all of them exhausted from the game and lost in thought. Even Mury was quiet for a while after playing.

Come evening, the young heiress was ready to bring her protectors to her mother’s chambers. She led them to the castle using the garden staircase, rather than the one in the courtyard, and showed them how to quickly traverse the Grand Duke’s home by using the secret corridors built for the servants to lessen their presence in the court scenery.

Leading the hireknights through the long halls of the royal living quarters, where all the Grand Duke’s family members had their apartments, the young heiress began talking again; “Grandfather did tell you of mother’s condition, did he not?”

“He mentioned she had some challenges,” Galeforte confirmed as they neared the chambers belonging to the Grand Duchess.

“That is putting it mildly,” Mury said somberly, her entire demeanour contradicting the person they had experienced so far, “Mother is sweet and caring. And she loves us. My brothers and I. She has always been a good mother and loving wife to my father, but something changed in her five years ago. She began having episodes where she thought everyone in the court was trying to kill us.”

Mury slowed down as they neared the door to her mother’s door, “Father says it is normal for a regent to become paranoid. Healthy even. But not in the way that mother has. Where father has a person taste his food before he eats it, mother has a person walk on her rugs each morning to make sure she is not swallowed by the floor when she gets out of bed.”

“Does she ever leave her apartment?” Thera asked.

“No. She’s been confined to her rooms since she… since Lady Anneka’s revolt,” Mury explained what Wendyll had already told them, “Besides, I don’t think she would even want to leave anymore. Her chambers are terrifying enough for her as it is. I don’t dare think what she would do if she was to walk these halls again.”

“How should we speak to her?” Galeforte asked, preparing himself for their meeting with the Grand Duchess.

“Like you would any other,” Mury said, “She is still the woman who raised me most of the time. She has simply gained some… quirks, shall we say. Do not mention her illness for it will cause her to panic. If she says something weird, just nod and agree with her and move on. That’s what I do.”

The hireknights stood in silence as Mury slowly approached the door. She put her ear to the door before slowly opening it. She pushed the door silently and looked inside, waving at her father who was sitting in a large, wooden armchair.

The guest chamber was the first room of the Grand Duchess’ apartment. It was not big, but it was cosy. Two tables were in the room, one by a small fireplace and one by an arched window.

The one by the window had four small chairs around it and was covered by a purple tablecloth. The other was flanked by two armchairs of oak, one of them facing the fireplace and the one occupied by the Grand Duke facing the entrance. To the left of the fireplace was an elegant curio cabinet, displaying different tea cups from all around the world behind its glass panels. To the right was a door leading further into the apartment.

The Grand Duke got up as they entered, drinking the last of his wine and placing the glass on the table beside his chair.

“How was your day?” Argoste asked silently. Picking up on the heiress and the Grand Duke’s behaviours, the hireknights tried to be as quiet as possible as they entered.

“Wonderful,” Mury answered, “I like the Blackshields.”

Argoste smiled when he heard his daughter’s answer, “Then everything is as it should be. Would you get the contract from my study?”

“Yes, Father,” Mury said, swiftly leaving the hireknights in her father’s care. Argoste waited for his daughter to leave before speaking again, his calm voice filling the room; “Now, to impress the Duchess. Are you ready?”

“We know all the details of the job,” Galeforte said almost with a whisper, “If the Grand Duchess needs rest then we can speak to her another day. We’re ready to sign the contract.”

“Splendid!” Argoste burst quietly, “But Erafina is the most important part. To be honest with you, Mury does not need protection. The people love her and my knights are more than equipped to deal with any assassins that might find their way into the castle from the mountains. The thing is; my wife does not trust my knights. Some days, she doesn’t even trust me. She needs to trust you. She needs to trust that you will keep her daughter safe so she can relax.”

“We shall do our best,” Galeforte promised.

Argoste smiled again, “That is all I ask,” and walked over to the door beside the fireplace. Before opening it, he turned around to face the hireknights, “Remember to speak calmly. Loud sounds scare her. And make sure she is looking at you before you speak. Otherwise she’ll think you are a voice inside her head and respond accordingly.”

Having warned the hireknights, Grand Duke Argoste vyn Barihd-Hezio opened the door to his wife’s living room.

The room was twice the size of the guest chamber, purple rugs decorated with golden flowers covering the floor from wall to wall.

To the left of the entrance was another fireplace, conjoined with the one in the guest chamber. This one was larger, its decorations prettier and more elaborate. In front of the fireplace was a purple, upholstered armchair with a matching footrest. Beside the chair was a small table which was covered with books and loose papers that were filled with illegible scribbles.

A piano stood an arm’s length from the wall to their left in the centre of the room, three beautiful daybeds surrounding it.

The Grand Duchess sat in front of a half finished painting in the far end of the room, her back turned towards her visitors. She was very focused, each of her strokes bringing more life to the canvas.

Large windows in the wall furthest from the entrance let the evening sun bathe the Grand Duchess and her living room in an orange light. The view from her living room was not an impressive one. A noble’s mansion and the mountains behind it, the same as what she was painting.

Other paintings leaned against the wall to her right, all of them depicting the same mansion in different ways and styles.

“My love,” Argoste said softly, “We have visitors.”

Erafina stood up slowly and turned her head. She did not look crazy. She looked like an ordinary lady of the court, her hair in advanced braids and wearing an extravagant dress.

“Who are you?” She asked loudly, “You are new. You are the hireknights. The Blackshields.”

“Yes, my lady,” Galeforte answered in a calm manner.

“Then do come closer,” she whispered, “So that we may speak without him listening.”

Galeforte looked to Argoste for affirmation before leading his hireknights closer to the Grand Duchess.

Noticing Argoste following behind them, he caught Erafina’s gaze and asked with a whisper; “Why must your husband not know what we speak of?”

“Not my husband, silly. I have no secrets from him,” Erafina said with a look implying Galeforte was a moron. Then she lowered her voice, “No, we must whisper because of the King in the Walls. I hear him. He threatens me. Threatens my daughter. He will -”

Erafina teared up, unable to utter another word. Argoste went to her side and put his arm around her, “Calm, my dear. The King is not listening to the hireknights.”

“Of course he is… silly. He listens to all. He is in the walls, Argoste, his ears the bricks,” she put a caring hand on her husband’s comforting arm and turned her gaze to the hireknights, “You met with my father? Outside the city?”

“We did,” Galeforte said.

“And he told you what I need from you?” Erafina asked, her eyes shifting between Galeforte, the floor, the walls and the ceiling.

“He did,” Galeforte confirmed.

“And you have not uttered word of it within the castle, I hope?” Erafina continued, her eyes frightened.

Sensing Galeforte’s hesitation, Thera stepped forward, “We have not. No one has said a word about the job within these walls.”

Erafina’s demeanour calmed and she looked to her husband, “You?”

“I spoke to your father outside the north gate last and I’ve merely introduced myself and the court to the hireknights. The King could not have heard anything,” Argoste explained.

“Good,” Erafina said, a heavy breath escaping her chest, “And you’ve been shown your accommodation for the next six months?”

“We were told we would be sleeping in Lady Muriella’s music room,” Galeforte confirmed, “But we were wondering earlier if you might find a more permanent residence for us, should you need us further when the contract has ended?”

“That won’t be necessary. In six months, my daughter will be safe,” Erafina whispered.

“How do you know?” Thera asked.

“My daughter is sixteen summers and she has not had her first blood yet. She will have it within the next six months, of that I am sure. The King in the Walls wants her unspoiled. Pure. When she bleeds, she will no longer be pure. She will be married. She will be safe. Six months. A mother has an instinct,” Erafina explained rather erratically.

“What does the King in the Walls want with your daughter?” Thera asked.

“He wants her power. She is a descendant of Vynnaron. A descendant who has not herself yet born a child,” Erafina explained.

Vynnaron the Creator Lord was an ancient mârkulite wizard who fathered the first humans. He was a shapechanger, the first and last known to mortals, and he used his magic to change his mârkulite body into the form he called ‘human’.

He chose only nineteen other mârkulites to receive his gift, making nine of them male like him and the others female.

The nine males went out into the world and fathered children with other races, their offspring becoming human no matter their mothers, while Vynnaron himself only bred with the ten Lady Creators.

These children, Vynnaron’s children, would become the rulers of the race he and his shapechanged allies sought to create. Both of their parents would be ‘true humans’ and they would carry what regents forever since had claimed gave them the right to their power; Kingsblood.

Carriers with kingsblood were said to have magic running in their veins. Magic that made them stronger, faster and smarter than ordinary humans. This was accepted as true in most kingdoms of Belhame, though many kingsbloods had been examples of the opposite.

“If he wants her for her blood, why does he not come for you?” Thera asked.

“I am impure. I am a mother,” Erafina replied, “I have passed my power on to my children.”

“Having a child doesn’t affect your blood, my love,” Argoste assured his wife, “You’re as much a kingsblood as I am.”

“But it does,” hissed Erafina, “I’ve given up my magic three times. Trust me, husband, I can feel it.”

With her hand, Erafina asked her husband to turn around her chair so she could sit down. The sound of footsteps announced Mury before she appeared in the entrance to the living room.

“Mury,” Erafina burst, her eyes tearing up at the sight of her daughter. Mury went to her mother, who was reaching out towards her with both her arms, and hugged her.

“I’ve got the contract,” Mury said, getting up from the hug and handing her father the roll of parchment.

Argoste went to the nearest table. He put the parchment on the circular tabletop which was carved from lapis lazuli.

“A quill and ink?” Argoste requested.

“In the commode over there,” Erafina said and pointed. Mury went to the commode and got the items her father lacked.

Argoste dipped the quill in the ink and tapped the tip against the edge of the inkwell. He flattened the contract against the table and looked at the hireknights.

“I do this, for even a father can be blinded by the love for his daughter and a regent the love of his realm,” Argoste said as he signed his name, confirming the employment of the Blackshields, “If my wife is right, then you will cleanse this city of any and all that may wish to harm my daughter. The city militia is at your disposal when they are not with me or my brother in the mountains.”

“You cannot trust the militia,” Erafina said, “You must only trust yourselves and my daughter. That is why we are signing her into your care. Why would you suggest that, Argoste?”

The Grand Duke stood dumbfounded for a second, “I don’t know, my love, I was not thinking.”

“Have you heard his voice, Argoste?” Erafina asked, her eyes frightened once again.

“No, I have not heard his voice,” Argoste replied in a calm manner.

“Is he whispering in your ear?” she hissed, “You work with the King in the Walls!”

“I do not, Erafina, calm down,” Argoste insisted, “It was a dumb suggestion. The hireknights should not use the city militia. Of course.”

Witnessing his wife calming down as Mury hugged her once more, he nodded knowingly towards the hireknights.

Galeforte nodded back in return, “We’ll forget it was ever mentioned.”

“Good. Good,” Erafina whispered weakly.

Argoste grabbed a book from the table and brought it as an underlay for the contract when he went to his wife for her signature.

He put the book and parchment in her lap and handed her the quill. Then he put an assuring hand on her shoulder, putting her mind at ease about the militia.

Erafina read the contract through and put the quill to the parchment, “For the next six months, you will be Muriella’s wardens. Your word is our word. Your word is her law. Her safety is your responsibility and no one may interfere.”