“So what do we do now?” Laurelen asked. “And just to be clear Love,” She said to Emma especially “I hate this part of your life. I hate that you have to think like this to survive.”

I answered. “We play their game for a bit. We are on the Duchess' side after all. But you will need to do it Emma. I don't think I can summon the energy and it will kind of go against Mark's image of benevolent and kindly churchman.”

Emma nodded her agreement. “Try to look distraught will you all?”

“I think I can manage that.” Mark muttered from behind where he had covered his face with his hands. I had slumped next to him. Exhausted again, just concentrating on breathing in and out

Emma turned to one of the remaining guards. “We wish to see Commander Syanna if you please.”

He nodded and went to the door where he poked his head out and exchanged words with the guards on our door.

Syanna was not far away and she came in with a couple of other knights. They crashed to attention.

“Lord Commander.” Emma snarled with more than a little venom. Syanna stood like a drill Sergeant reporting in to a superior officer. She had expected this and was also playing her part.

“Lord Commander, you will kindly convey, to the Duchess and her court, our families distress and outrage that our grief for our dearly missed sister should be made a spectacle of. Our pain at the loss of Francesca is not a subject of amusement, or to be made light of. They should know that we consider it the blackest insult that people seek to make a profit from her loss. She deserved better at the hands of Toussaint then and she deserves better at the hands of Toussaint now.”

I took a breath. My sister took to these lessons better than I did and it was interesting to watch her work.

“We demand an apology. Not for ourselves, but on the behalf of Francesca and all the lost and forgotten women that were taken from under the noses of those that were neglectful of their duties. And on behalf of the good and noble men and women, including those of the Knights Errant, that gave their lives in an effort to right that wrong. I notice that none of those murdered women, or fallen knights, Witchers and soldiers were immortalised in oils or marble.

“Otherwise we must be forced to consider the honour that we are being shown a sham and we will leave as soon as we have recovered from our grief, shock and outrage.”

Emma considered what she had said and nodded. She had grown tired and was leaning back. “For the public message at least. Do you have all that Commander?”

“Yes.” Syanna nodded. Something came across her face, a look of almost hunger and I got the impression that she was looking forward to the coming moment. “Might I ask how long it will take for my lords and ladies to recover?”

“Oh at least a day.” I muttered to her from my slumped position next to Mark.

“At least.” Mark commented from where he was still on the floor. “More like two.”

“And when you tell her that in private later.” Emma continued with a little more humourous anger. “Could you also inform your sister that we are not play pieces to be disposed of so lightly. That display today was fucking shameful and I, for one, would have no objection to spending the rest of my winter in Angral, or preparing for my brother's wedding. Or in Nilfgaard where I will be sure to tell the Empress just how insulted we all were with the way we were treated here today.”

“I will tell her.” Syanna said before her words became more formal again. “If anyone challenges your words. I hope that you will allow the Knights of Francesca to answer for it.”

“We will consider it.” Emma told her.

Syanna's eyes blazed as she turned and left.

The energy left me after that, drained out of the souls of my feet and I slumped backwards onto the couch. Each of us had had the.... the healing that we had done, the movement away from our grief and pain at the loss of our sister stripped away so that the wound had come back to be raw and harsh again. I can't speak for anyone else but I was desperately clawing for that state of mind again, that state of being able to function and think and move and speak.

The brief flurry of activity with Mark, not unjustifiably, losing his temper had given me a spurt of free energy that I had used. I have come to think of it as being like a bank. I had borrowed extra energy in the same way that I would borrow money from a bank. But now that the crisis was over, the bank was demanding repayment of that energy with a, not small amount of interest as well.

So I sat on that couch and stared into space for a while. Emma recovered first and started to bustle round. She organised another round of baths for us all and Mark, sensibly, went off to bed for a nap as he had been left exhausted by all of it. I was not far behind him if I was honest with myself and I might have been better off going for a small nap myself. But moving seemed to require more... coordination, energy and drive than I could generally gather together.

Ariadne left at one point, sort of midafternoon as she had an appointment to see some people. I have no idea who it was although I would learn later that night. After Mark had been put to bed, Kerrass bullied me into having another bath on the grounds that the cold sweat of action had settled over me and I smelled awful. I was also persuaded to take some medicine. But all of that meant that I wasn't in the receiving area when Syanna came back with a much more gleeful expression on her face to tell us all that the Duchess would apologise to us all formally at the banquet that evening.

Apparently, there had been some consternation at our behaviour during the walk and more than a few people had been grievously insulted by the way that we had behaved. But our outrage, for reasons unknown to me, seemed to trump theirs. Something to do with their outrage being to do with their own artistic endeavours while ours was to do with honest grief regarding the loss of a family member.

Now that we are all somewhat more distant from that time and place, I am comfortable in saying what it was. It was a moment of culture clash. The people of Toussaint are romantics. Nothing wrong with that. But they see everything as a story and every story needs a hero, every story needs a villain and, ideally, every story needs a damsel in distress to be rescued by the hero. The people, and the artists of Toussaint had considered themselves fortunate that here, they had a genuine and honest damsel in distress. She had been beautiful, intelligent and charming and then she had been taken from them.

They couldn't understand why we, her family, didn't glorify that loss. Why we didn't see it that way. To them she was a symbol and if any family of Toussaint had lost a daughter in that way, the family would have been pleased at the adulation.

But we are not of that place.

I had a bath and sat in private for a while. I had the urge to write away my fury. I took several quills and a pot of ink as well as numerous sheets of paper and started writing exactly why I was so angry. I wrote and wrote and wrote in a fury, flame knows how much as I tried to articulate why I was so angry and why I was so upset until, in the early part of the evening, I looked up to see that the shadows were lengthening and the sky was getting dark. I had filled several sheets, used a significant part of the ink that was in the pot and split several quills. And I had not said even a fraction of all the things that I wanted to say.

Then I read through it all and realised that it was all pointless, self-pitying, self-raging nonsense and I threw it all on the fire. It was not a good moment for me.

Fortunately, Ariadne sensed my distress through the link that we share and was able to come in and comfort me for a while as I wept.

So, in short, I had exhausted myself when I should have been resting before the banquet that was to be for our reception later that night.

I emerged from my rooms to find that Emma had taken certain matters in hand. The Tailor had turned up and had brought several outfits for the evening for us to choose from. Emma had dismissed all of them out of hand and told the tailor to go back and come up with something that properly reflected a family in mourning and something that represented the dignity of such a situation of rememberance.

In the end she decided that she was satiefied with a plain black dress of modest cut. Ariadne dressed in something similar, still subdued but with a bit more ornamentation which was meant to signify that she was not part of the family yet. Laurelen went for the same. Mark decided that he was going to wear his most austere, dark cassock and Emma chose for me a simple pair of black trousers, a black tunic and a white shirt. She chose for me because I could barely keep my eyes open after everything and kept drifting off into my own thoughts. I got the distance sense that there were some exchanged looks over my head.

While we were waiting for those clothes to be made, the family had another little conference. I wish I could tell you what all of this was about but I was really struggling now. An image kept flashing up before my eyes and it was not the image that I would expect. It was not anything to do with any of the paintings or statues that I had seen over the course of the day. It was one moment. Just one moment that had been driven from my mind by everything else.

Sir Thomas. A young knight of the Imperial Guard that had had a crush on my sister while ignoring the fact that Sleeping Beauty was developing a crush on him on the grounds that he wasn't good enough for her. An accomplished swordsman, one of the youngest people to ever attend the Imperial war academy and the makings of a good friend. I remember his sardonic and self-effacing sense of humour.

But I had been looking for him in the hall of paintings and I had struggled to find even a reference to him. When I had, it had been in a small corner of the greater painting and I had only found him there because I had been looking for him. Sir Thomas had died in my arms during the great effort to capture Laughing Jack.

He had been caught out when I had chased after our quarry rather foolishly. In trying to intercept me, Thomas had come up against Jack. Jack had killed him, mostly I suspect to further enrage me. Sir Thomas, all of sixteen, had died hard and in pain and I had watched as the awful pain drove him to madness in the moments before life left his eyes.

I felt astonishingly guilty because of his death and I had promised myself, at the time that I would get in touch with Sir Thoma's family and pay my respects. But I never did so. Another broken promise. It was this that was haunting me while the family were making plans. I kept seeing that flash of his realisation of pain as it hit him in a wave, over and over again. I kept hearing his groan and the rattle of the last of his breath echoing in his throat.

“Freddie?” Emma shook me and I flinched backwards with a snarl on my lips. Realisation struck me that I she had been calling my name for some time.

“Fuck.” I muttered, realising that I was trembling violently.

Ariadne moved over and took my hand and squeezed it gently. “Freddie, time to come back.”

It took a minute, two minutes at the most before I sighed and leant back in the chair.

“I'm gonna need another bath.” I said distinctly before letting some tears come out.

“Well that fucks that doesn't it.” Kerrass said after pouring me another drink. He watered this one down though. “He's in no shape to go to dinner.”

“Are any of us?” Mark wondered.

“Yes, but you or I are going to get angry or snap at someone. Freddie might run, screaming from the room or worse.” Laurelen replied. “No offense Freddie.”

“You should go.” I told them. “You should go and apologise for me.” I was struggling to pull together a thought process. “You should go,”

Emma saw what I was getting at. “This actually plays to our hand and the point that we were making. We've already established that Freddie is ill and that he has been distressed by recent events. If we work at it, we can even spin this to prove what we have already said in public.”

“I feel faintly dirty for using Freddie like that.” Mark said, rubbing at his temples. “It might backfire and give Freddie a reputation as a weakling.”

“If it does then I shall call them out.” Kerrass told us, grinning nastily. “I will probably lose that honour to the knights of Saint Francesca,” We all shuddered to hear that name. “But at the end of the day, I will still get to tear a strip off the offending idiot. And Freddie really is in no state to be fighting right now. On any battleground.”

“I want to stay with Freddie.” Ariadne said. “But I suppose that I can't can I.”

“Not really.”

“I'll be fine.” I insisted. “I need some rest and some time to collect thoughts. But if someone could come back and keep me company later I will appreciate it.”

Politics is a dirty game sometimes. I have said before that I enjoy that game at times and this is true. When the people that I am playing against are definitely, unavoidably my enemy and deserve to be crushed while I know that I can just escape onto the road or go home again, secure in my knowledge that I don't need political power to be able to survive and make my living.

But I was not enjoying this. I was tired, still ill and if I really got what I wanted then I would be in some kind of fort made out of blankets with a good book and the company of friends. Ariadne's study pavilion would be a good start.

So Mark and Emma went down for dinner. The added bonus of my staying in the rooms was that the tailor didn't have to come up with a mourning suit for me as well as Emma and Mark. The clothes and the dresses that Emma was satisfied with were made out of black material with as little ornamentation as the tailor could be persuaded to be happy with. Just the cut and the cloth was the order. So Mark went in his most severe Cassock while Emma wore a simple dress. Laurelen and Ariadne were forced to wear subdued dresses from their own wardrobe but as both women had several dresses in their baggage that would suit, that was not too much of a hardship. As did Emma and Mark for that matter but Mark also had points to make.

Kerrass wore his normal clothes and his weapons. His decision was that he was “outraged” on our behalf and was going to follow us around, positively quivering with the desire to defend Emma's or my honour with his blade if necessary. That the knights of Saint Francesca would promptly demand the satisfaction for themselves on our behalf made the point moot. This was something that Emma and Kerrass had cooked up between them so I didn't get to see much of how that worked out.

So I didn't get to see the banquet where the Coulthard family were welcomed and feted by the greater people of Toussaint. That is a shame. I would dearly have loved to be there and from all the way back here, all that time later, I feel really sorry that I missed it. But I am also just as aware that I was in no state to be playing politics at one of the highest courts in the land. That would not have been good for anyone.

So I didn't see it. I didn't see the five of them walk into the banquet hall dressed in drab, austere colours while the rest of Toussaint looked on. I did not get to hear the minstrels and the bards come crashing to a halt in a discordant mess of broken tunes and flat keys. Nor did I get to see the stark contrast between it all.

Instead, I had to hear about it from Ariadne later. She had found it mildly amusing when she wasn't worrying about Mark's health or wishing she was back in our rooms taking care of me.

She told me about how the family, led by Mark and Emma walking arm in arm had marched up towards the dais and bowed formally before the Duchess who, in a perfectly choreographed piece of courtly play, rushed forward and raised Emma and then Mark up before declaring in a loud voice that it was Toussaint that should be bowing to the Coulthard family before she had demonstrated what she meant accordingly.

She told me about the look of naked and raw triumph in Knight Commander Syanna's eyes as she had stood beside her sister the Duchess and bowed as low as possible.

She told me about several things. She told me about how excellent the food was and how she struggled with just how subdued the courtroom seemed all the way through the thing. A mixture of amusement at the fact that everyone had so clearly been waiting to have a massive party and had been looking forward to telling tales and singing songs. About how people had wanted to express their undying sorrow at the loss of Francesca and now could not do so without promptly being asked, by Syanna if not from one of the family, what they, personally had done to ensure that nothing like what happened to Francesca would ever happen again.

But she was also dissappointed. She had wanted to see Toussaint at it's best again. She had enjoyed all the flowers and pagentry of the Empress' coronation and now that it looked increasingly like that sort of thing wasn't going to happen. She found that she was dissappointed.

But by the end of it all, there was no doubt as to which faction the Coulthard family was on the side of. Over and over again, both Mark and Emma were telling people that what had happened to Francesca was awful, but that what was really shameful was how easily it could have all been avoided. About how the deaths of all the other good and brave people had been painted over with cheap whitewash. About how good men and women had been cut down in their prime and that all of this pointed towards a very real and necessary need for change.

For herself, Ariadne rather thought that we were all kicking a people when they were already down and did not enjoy that. She absolutely saw the necessity, but there was comfort in the past and she could not share our anger that these people did not want to move into a frightening future when the past had given them so much comfort. She thought that what was happening was cruel and she was not wrong.

But then she saw the first person try to pick a fight with Emma by trying to insinuate that Francesca no longer belonged to the Coulthard family. That she was part of Toussaint now and that the people of Toussaint would mourn her the way that they saw fit. The crux of that particular incident resulted in the offending noble being slapped by Emma and the man was informed that one of the other knights would see him at dawn.

There was also a shouting match between another nobleman who tried to infer that the Coulthard family had insulted the Duchess by demanding an apology. He was in the middle of saying that it was Toussaint culture to celebrate those that had fallen and been lost and that it was not our place to criticise those people that would want to do that kind of thing.

This man was also given short shrift as Kerrass demanded to know, loudly, whether or not the Duchess had actually been offended. When it became clear that the Duchess was not then the man was trapped into suggesting that this meant that the Duchess did not represent her people. The Fury that accompanied that was such that the man had to snatch up his wife, who had seemed to enjoy her husband's dismfort, and leave before he himself was challenged to a duel.

Ariadne herself was having to field people asking after me and why I had not come down to dinner that night. More than one person had brought copies of my books for me to sign and wanted to debate the contents with me. Something that I would have been more than happy to partake in under normal circumstances. But in this case, Ariadne's feelings were that what they really wanted to do was to tell me, in detail, how much I had gotten wrong on various subjects.

She did correct several people on several topics however. She was astonished to find that there was something of an anti-Vampire bias in Toussaint. Not that there was no reason for this particular prejudice to take route, but that she had made no secret of who she was the previous time that she was here and had not seen so much of the unpleasantness.

So she was rather taken aback that it was now something of a thing. So as well as telling people why I was not able to come down to dinner, that being that I was exhausted from the years adventures, upset from what I had seen that day and generally furious with the sideshow that Toussaint had made out of my sister's kidnap, she was also forced to deny all the accusations about what it was actually like to be a Vampire.Including having to prove that she was not a Bruxa and that she was not present during the night of the Long Fangs.

I suggested that the people that had spouted this nonsense to her were just trying to pick a fight. They had looked for a topic to stir up old hatred and prejucie and were now pushing those things in order to make waves and to make a point. She agreed and was able to keep her cool fairly easily. She would say, over and over again, that although there are many different kinds of Vampire it is not the same as saying that there are different kinds of human.

It is like saying that Humans are the same as Elves or Dwarves or Halflings because they all have two arms and two legs. But also saying that this would also be true if you expanded the definition to include other such bipeds as Trolls, Giants, Ghouls, Hags, Nekkers and all of the other things that walk on the continent with two arms, two legs and a head. Then the person that she was talking to would always get offended at being compared to a Necrophage or a troll before Ariadne would, sweetly, point out that this was exactly why she was so insulted by being compared to a Fleder.

“But I didn't compare you to a Fleder.” The noble would say. “I compared you to a Bruxa.”

Then she would pin them to the ground with her gaze and say. “What is the difference between you and an elf?

“Well.... They're Elves aren't they.”

“There you go then.”

And on and on it went. Normally to be interrupted by some other knight, or Kerrass at a pinch, wandering over to Ariadne and enquiring as to whether this gentleman was bothering her or not. Ariadne would always say no before continuing her lecture on the differences between the different species of Vampire before her.... Assailant seems like to strong a word, but her botherer would eventually get bored and wander off. Realising that he was not going to get rise out of this particular vampire after all.

She did not tell me, although Kerrass did, about the several brave and strapping young men who approached her in the guise of brave and strapping young men who tried to suggest that I was weak and cowardly for hiding in our rooms and that she would be better off with a “real man.”

Kerrass' account of what happened after that was to say that Ariadne would then laugh as though the offending idiot was making some kind of a joke before saying “And when one of those comes along, I shall be sure to take that into account.”

If the idiot proved to be at least slightly sensible and move the conversation onto a different topic, then that would be that. But then, if the idiot decided to upgrade himself from idiot to moron by listing my faults in detail than Ariadne would turn on the idiot and describe, in detail, all the things that she loved about me that were plainly not present in the idiot before her.

He wouldn't tell me what those things were though.

If the idiot went in the other direction and tried to suggest that Ariadne had insulted their precious honour, thus proving themselves to be beyond moron and well into imbecile territory, then Ariadne would say that if they were so concerned about their implied manhood then they should possibly take the matter up with Syanna.

Syanna had some of her sister's abilities in the courtroom despite the fact that her exile had left her out of practice. But what she had was centered around being able to monitor for problems that might come up. So whenever Ariadne was being hassled in such a way, she would always manage to arrange matters so that she would be nearby and easily able to intervenet, often with one of her largest and most imposing subordinates.

But there was music, dancing and enough food that even Mark, who's appetite remains undeminished despite his illness, was complaining about being stuffed when he came back up to bed. And enough wine that Kerrass himself was feeling a bit tipsy.

What did I do? I played cards with, and interviewed one of my bodyguards.

At first, I had tried doing some passive things. I tried doing some actual work rather than just writing for the sake of it, but this was unsatisfying and I couldn't get my head into the right frame of mind. One of the pictures would intrude on my mind or a snipped of the piece of music and, inevitably, that would lead my mind back to hearing Sir Thomas' death rattle and the awful pain that was in his eyes as he died. Or the sorrow in Princess Dorne's face when she tried to tell me that she could have tolerated being wooed by that young man.

So I gave up and moved back into the main room where I tried to have something to eat and have a read of something. I was not without things to read after all. And although the food was wonderful and proved a passable diversion for a little while, you can only eat so much food before you get full and then you are left with the fact that you are again, left with nothing to think about other than the things that you are trying to avoid thinking about.

So I tried to involve one of my guards in a conversation.

“Sir Guillaume.” I began. “Perhaps you will join me.”

At first he didn't want to. He wanted to stay separate from it all. Keeping himself aloof, the rigid adherence to duty. But I badgered him and badgered him and there was another guard in the room that was taking up the slack. So in the end he agreed, removing his helm and sitting across the table in front of me.

“I will not drink however.” He declared. “I must be ready for anything.”

I raised my eyebrow at that. My first respone was to ask what could possibly get through the castle guards, the walls and everything in between including his companions in order for it to become necessary for himself to draw his own weapon. The response was right on the tip of my tongue, but then the answer that came back was obvious. Such precautions had not protected Francesca had they and I instantly felt guilty.

“But some light conversation would surely be acceptable.” I tried.

He blew out a breath unhappily. “So long as it's light conversation Lord Frederick.”

He poured himself some milk.

“Why only light?” I enquired.

“I have no wish to be interrogated.”

“Is that what I'm doing?”

“Or interviewed.”

“Why not?”

He glared at me suspiciously. “You're interviewing me aren't you.” It was not a question.

“Why so suspicious of that?”

He grimaced a little. “Lord Frederick, I am a simple man.” He scratched his chin and thought about it for a long while. “The Commander has told you that your articles are required reading for members of the Knights of Francesca hasn't she.”

“She has mentioned it.”

“I remember a chapter that I found quite informative. It was a chapter during which you were working to end the corruption of the cult of the First-Born.”

I nodded to show that I was keeping up with him.

“Specifically it was a chapter regarding the use of politicians and diplomats. Courtiers and beaurocrats.”

“I remember.” I told him. “I talked about that as we were infiltrating Lord Cavill's castle.”

“You did. That chapter stuck with me. I remember it clearly.” He was uncomfortable about something and... As it turned out. I was interviewing him. So I waited for the words to just come out of him. “I felt that you were calling me out a little there sir.”

“You specifically?”

“I... I saw a lot of myself in Cavill's son. Not the evil, murderous barbarism. But the dependence on the force of arms. The arrogance that my skills and abilities have given me. I was also diverted by what Lord Kerrass said about what makes a good warrior but that's a discussion for a different time.”

He didn't look at me, not wanting to meet my gaze. “But I would be the kind of man that would stand in the way of a courtier who I thought was insulting My Duchess or a lady, let alone my wife. And I would not know that I was making a fool of myself. Indeed, I had not registered that I have made a fool of myself in this way in the past.”

“So why is that a problem now?”

“I don't want to make a fool of myself.”

“I know that, but why is that a problem between you and I. Here and now. In this room?”

He thought about this for a while.

“My wife is a courtier you know.” He said after while longer. “And she is so much smarter than me that it is a little ridiculous. I sometimes wonder what she could possibly see in me.”

“I can relate to that.” I commented.

He smiled a little, the first time I felt his guard starting to come down around me.

“She is one of the Lady's in waiting to Her Grace the Duchess. It is an honour and a privilidge that she takes very seriously. She is constantly bringing home papers and documents that she reads in order to keep the Duchess properly advised in this or that. I read them occasionally as my oath of discretion in these matters means that I would never give away the Duchess' privacy and I can't understand a word of what is written there. Even when my wife does her very best to try and educate me on the subject.”

I sensed that he was building up to the point despite his desire to dance around things.

“You are cut from the same cloth as her, My Lord, and although I do not say that as an insult, I might have said it as such at some point or another in the past. My respect for courtiers, Diplomats and the like has gone up since I fell in love with and married one. As well as when I read your treatise on the matter.”

He took a deep breath and plunged in.

“But I do not want to be made a fool of. Either now in front of your family and friends. Or in the future when you inevitably write something up about your time in Toussaint, but also, I do not wish to make a fool of the knightly order on whom my actions and words reflect.”

I nodded at all of this. “So what you're telling me is that you don't want me to make a fool of you in my writing.”

“Yes. I am sorry if this gives you any kind of offence.”

“I am not offended.” I told him, carefully hiding my smile.”

He instantly sagged in relief. “That is good. Otherwise it would be my duty to hit myself in the face with a gauntlet.”

We laughed together and I saw him begin to relax.

“I know my strengths and weaknesses.” He said. “I am good with a blade, but I am not the best. My mind tends to drift. I am a romantic and although the love of a good woman has meant that I can keep my concentration far better than I used to, I am still occasionally vulnerable to that.”

“Your wife being the lady who...”

“Who Lord Geralt helped me lift a curse from yes. So I can relate to your loving someone or something that doesn't look entirely human.”

“Ah, but Ariadne does look entirely human. Except when she smiles openly or laughs uncontrollably, meaning that I can see that her teeth are rather more pointy than yours or mine are. The main difference is that your love looked more... and I mean no offence here, but your love looked more monstrous, but thought like a human. She looked more other I mean.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Whereas yours thinks like a monster?”

“Sometimes.” I admitted. Showing him that I was alright with him occasionally using language like that to express himself. “She surprises herself with things. She gets curious about things that we take for granted and her moral compass.... What we are brought up to believe by our society are things that she could care less about. It is, confusing and invigorating in equal measure. I love her for it. The way we have to keep up with each other is... lovely.”

“I never gave thought to what would come after.” Guillaume admitted. “I elevated her onto a pedestal. She was so beautiful and I loved her so much that it did not occur to me to worry about what would happen afterwards. Marriage and the rest of it passed by in a blur.” He laughed suddenly, something he seemed to do much easier now that he was becoming much more comfortable with me. “A very pleasurable and.... fun blur to be sure. But then you still have that ahead of you I suppose.”

“I do.” I paused. “Is it worth it?” I was manipulating him. Putting him into a position where he felt as though he was superior to me in some way in order to get him to open up. But I also found that I was curious, we were not far off in age, both of us had come together with our loves, with supernatural shenanigans underfoot and surrounding the circumstances and.... I found that I wanted to know.

He considered this as well. I have heard tales of this man. Of his impatience and his impetuousness. Someone seemed to have instilled a habit into him. That he was to stop, think and consider before he acted on any of his instincts. And before he spoke. I wondered who would take credit for that, whether it was his lady wife or his knight Commander.

But the new habit served him well.

“In all of our society,” he began carefully. “We elevate the chase. All the stories and all of the poetry is about the lady waiting to be swept of her feet. Or about the male, pining away after some... object of our desires and our... well.... our lusts. We think up new and more impressive ways to describe these feelings to overcome the... rather crude, feeling that we just want to take her into our arms and kiss her until the world goes away...”

He looked at me shyly. “Among other things. But that is what our culture elevates. We elevate the longing. That is the thing that, forgive me, the thing that you and your family have missed in all your... understandable grief and anger. We Long for things. Men that loved your sister longed for her and now that she is a tragic figure, we long for her even more. We long to rescue her and it is this longing that you see and are repulsed by. But now... There is almost safety in longing for Saint Francesca. Because we know that that longing is never going to be fulfilled. So we can long to rescue and long to love her without fear that that longing will be taken away, either by rejection or that feeling being requited. And the tragedy of that is... compelling to us.

“I remember that fear when I was courting my wife. When she was the lady of the tournament, she terrified me. I was aware that there was something wrong, some.... thing that made her sad and put that haunted look in her eye. But I was also afraid of her too. You even said it yourself. In talking to her and trying to woo her, there are two fears.”

“What if she says no.” I answered.

“And what if she says yes.” He responded. “I think that is a thing that our culture does miss out on. We miss out on the joy that happens after marrying the woman... the person that you love. The joys, the pleasures.... and the trials that come with that. The story always ends in a marriage. It never says how wonderful, how terrifying, how joyous and how.... hard the happily ever after bit is.”

Then he looked at me. “But speaking as someone who got their happily ever after. Yes, it is worth it. And it is the most.... enjoyable struggle that I have ever felt.”

We laughed together for a while.

“Do you feel better?” He asked me after a moment.

“Compared to what?” I retorted automatically. “Sorry, that was unfair.”

He smiled slightly before taking his gauntlet off so that he could scratch himself behind the ear. “When I'm feeling low, angry, tired or frustrated. I go and take it out on a practice dummy. Or occasionally, a willing friend. I get the wooden training swords out and then a group of us just work really hard on smacking the stuffing out of each other. I do that because it's what I was trained to do first. It's comforting almost. To go back to that most basic of things and just to let myself get on with it.”

“What we do first, we do in a crisis.” I answered.

“That's it, yes. So you're interviewing me. You're asking questions and getting to know me. This is what you're used to. This is what you are comfortable with. So, having retreated to what you know best. Do you feel better for it?”

I smiled. “You are cleverer than you give yourself credit for. Sir knight.” I told him.

“Just as my wife says.”

“Your wife sounds like a clever woman.”

“She is at that.” He laughed again. “Except she married me. So what does that say about her cleverness?”

“Beats me.” I told him. “But I'm marrying a woman who's nine hundred years old. She's a Sorceress, a Vampire,” He shuddered at that although I pretended not to notice. “She's ridiculously beautiful and utterly terrifying. She has terms for things that we don't have words for. Concepts that we humans have never even dreamed of. She's more charming tham me, smarter than me and more.... She is more than me in just about every way. And yet she chose me?” I shook my head. “Boy, I dunno. I worry that she's going to wake up and get smart. Every single day.”

“And every single day.” He told me. “Every single day. If she's even half the lady that you describe or that I take her for. She will prove to you that she will never go away.”

He smiled at a memory.

“That fear never goes away.” He said. “That fear that she will just wake up and realise that she is making a terrible mistake. But I have been married for a little while now and there will come a time, for me it was about six months into marriage where I woke up next to the woman I love as the sun came in through the windows, She was lying on the bed next to me as we had gone to sleep in each other's arms the night before. The sun was glinting in her golden, dishevelled hair and I went to leave as was proper. But then she turned out to be not that asleep, grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into a hug and wouldn't let me go.”

He smiled happily at the memory.

“That was a special moment Lord Frederick. And when that happens to you, as it will, then you will know that it doesn't matter what we think. But only what they think. That's what it's like.”

Contrary to what he had said earlier, he added a small touch of wine to his drink.

“Now what do you want to ask me?” He said.

I considered this. This and many of the questions that occurred that I could have asked. That I could have put to him in that time and in that place.

“What do you make of all this?” I wondered. “From what I understand, you were as traditional a knight Errant as any in Toussaint. What do you make of all the change?”

He took a long breath. Again, taking the time to properly consider before he answered the question. Sir Guillaume de Launfal is a difficult man to dislike, he is open, honest and hard working. He is everything that we are taught to believe a man should be. Everything that a Knight should be. But he lacks the arrogance that often goes with that kind of thing. It was interesting to watch as his large, handsome and, above all, honest face, contorted with the effort to try and think about what he wanted to say.

As I hope is clear. I liked Sir Guillaume and I think he does himself a disservice when he describes himself as being stupid. I think he is, but he has no talent for those skills that we incorrectly assume show intelligence. That and he has never really been taught how to think. He hasn't been taught how to examine and consider and go through things in order to get to the anwers that he wants. He doesn't have a critical mind, he has a direct, action based mind. There is the problem, fix the problem, move on. He doesn't know how to examine the problem and think about how to fix the problem or even better, to decide whether the thing is a problem at all.

And he has never been taught how to hide his emotions. I met his wife later and as is the way with Toussaint women, of course she was beautiful, intelligent and everything that she was supposed to be. Everything that a Toussaint Lady was supposed to be I mean. Educated, charming, musical, graceful and well able to serve in the Duchess' absence should that be required. But she also has an almost sly sense of humour in the depths of her eyes, leaving me thinking that Guillaume is a very lucky man indeed.

She told me that she occasionally despairs of her husband while at the same time, utterly adoring him. She loved him for his help with the curse that she was under and that he is slavishly devoted to her happiness.

But his inability to hide his emotions is occasionally a problem in the circles that she moves in and she has to send him away or make up an errand for him to perform. But I think that this is part of the reason that she loves him so much. His bluff honesty and his utterly straightforward mind. Of course she knew how he felt about her. Long before he did if all things were truthful but at the same time, her curse prevented her from pursuing her own happiness.

But in that moment, while he sat and shifted his weight around in his seat while he tried to think about what he wanted to say to me, his discomfort was plain and, I hope he will forgive me, more than a little funny.

“I was not in Toussaint when your sister was kidnapped.” He told me eventually. “I was far to the North in Ban Ard. My wife had never travelled you see, as her former curse made such things impossible but after our marriage, she begged leave to be allowed to go travelling. The Duchess gave leave and we were offered a post as an Ambassador. We would travel around and deal with her Grace's own requirements. We spent a winter in Oxenfurt and another further north in Kovir before coming back down through Kaedwen and, as I say, we were in Ban Ard at the time.”

It would seem that whatever he had to say was not going to be entirely positive as he felt the need to work up to saying what he had to say.

“So as Ambassadors we stayed in our posts when the Empress was being crowned and it wasn't until some time had passed befor enews came out as to what had happened. By which time, the disaster of the Fish Market was already well into the past and there was nothing that could be done. We sent a letter in the next Diplomatic packet south to enquire as to our duties and what needed to happen and what the Duchess wanted us to do but that was the very least of what we could do.

“Mostly we just sat around and fretted as rumour and news came North. We heard about the awful events. I wept at the loss of your sister and my tears turned into tears of rage when I heard about all of those good and brave men that were killed at the fish market.

“As it turned out though, our request for instruction crossed with the Duchess' orders to come home. No sooner did we do that than we were on the road. Horse, cart for our belongings and onto the spring roads to catch a barge to port and then a ship to get into Beauclair harbour. Miles out of the way but by far the quickest route all things considered. Out to sea and then back up the river to get ther.

“I hated every moment of it as we got further and further away from my beloved Toussaint while at the same time, getting closer and closer to it. Then, we stopped off in port to change ships and were forced to spend a couple of nights in an inn while we waited for the ship to come in and be sorted out. Which was how I read your account of proceedings....”

He stopped suddenly, almost in the middle of a sentence and the memory of old pain crossed his big, honest face. The pause continued, it seemed like a pressure was growing.

“What do you want to say to me Sir Guillaume?” I asked gently.

He looked up at me as though I had startled him.

Then the air seemed to leave him. As though he was an inflated pig's bladder that I had struck with a pin.

“I say this with all due respect.” He groaned. “And you should know that I hold you and your family in the highest regard, that I requested this detail and that I would happily and readily give my life should it become clear that it is a choice between my life and the lives of you or any of your family. You, all of you, have my utmost admiration and respect at all times.”

I laughed and he seemed astonished. Even a flash of anger for a moment before he controlled the impulse.

“You mock me sir?” He demanded quietly.

“A little.” I admitted. “A great scholar and gentleman once said. “It's lovely, but anything that a man said before the word “but” is said to make both people feel better and should therefore be ignored.” There is a “but” coming isn't there.”

Sir Guillaume saw the funny and smiled a little.

“Who was that gentleman?”

I sighed and shook my head. “I can't remember.” I told him. “I can tell you exactly who happened on the field at Brenna, Sodden and in numerous other places like the battle of White Orchard, the fields of Velen, the battles of Vergen, both times. But could I tell you who was actually involved?”

He laughed, as I had wanted and intended.

“I make rhymes for them when it comes up in exam questions.” I went on. Fortunately not something that I have to worry about any more. Now, should I return to the university which I absolutely intend to, I shall be the one to set the questions and I absolutely intend to leave off any questions that a person could learn by rote, just as I had to do it. That's not learning, that's rehersal.”

He went on laughing. “I agree. A man can learn the sword movements, but it is in the application that a man becomes a swordsman.”

“So there's a “but” coming isn't there?”

“There is.”

“So.... But.”

“But....” He began again. “But I need you to know that I despise you and everything that you stand for.”

I stared at him for a long moment.

“Hold that thought.” I said before climbing to my feet and moving through to my room where I fetched several pieces of paper, a pot of ink and a quill that I had trimmed earlier in the day from when I was trying to write.

I arranged them opposite me, dipped my quill and sat prepared.

“Why?” I asked.

He took a deep breath. “Because I am the Toussaint that lost your sister.” he shuddered after he said that and stared into space for a long while. “Might I trouble you to pour me some wine Lord Frederick?”

I poured.

“I am everything, everything that Toussaint was. You won't know because why would you. But Sir Crawthorne and I were childhood friends. We played together as children on the banks of the river. We concocted fantasies about rescuing fair maidens before we knew what they were, and we charged imaginary armies together, just the two of us against the horde and we were always, always victorious. It was he that that encouraged me to woo the lady that became my wife. We trained together. We went on quests together....

“I read what you wrote about his disgrace and I was appalled. I was incensed and furious. I cannot remember ever being so angry. And the reason that I was so angry is because, I could very easily see myself in Sir Crawthorne's place. That could have been me. It almost was. I believed in everything that he believed in. And everything I believed in, was what made Toussaint great.”

He finished his cup and gestured. I poured him another.

“I believed and still believe that women are weak and need to be protected. That those women that have made names as warriors are rarities and exceptions that prove the rule. I believed that women should remain pure and virginal until their wedding day. I believed that men should as well but that's not what we're talking about. I believed that women need to step back and let the men do all the work.

“I was furious when the Duchess took her sister back after everything that Syanna had done and that she would be in charge of the new knights. I was angry that the Empress handed over the Kayalese winery to your family despite your family's inexperience with wine production and that it was a woman and a gay woman that was running it at that.”

He actually shuddered.

“I believe that might makes right. I do. I really do. I worked hard at it and I made sure that I was the best at what I did. I was never as good as Crawthorne or Gregor who was Crawthorne before Crawthorne was. But I worked hard and I kept others down in order to elevate myself and my family so that we could continue the way that we were. That was how I remained strong. That was how I could protect our lands and our people by being better than everyone else. It's one of the oldest tricks in the book of the duelist or the fighter. Win the fight before the fight has even begun and if Crawthorne or Gregor or I came over the hill in all of our splendour to drive off the evildoers then they would know who we were and flee in fear.

“I read your account of the events and I found that I agreed with every step that my friend took in order to hunt Laughing Jack. I would have done exactly the same thing in his place, I suspect, despite hoping that I would have done better. He would have still been chosen because he was a better knight than I was. But I remember the cruelty of the gesture and the rage that was in your writing.

“I hated you then and I hate you still. You destroyed us all then and when The Empress destroyed the knight's Errant, I absolutely intended to come back to Toussaint and challenge Colonel Duberton to a duel in order to show how wrong the Empress and the Duchess was.

“I looked around Toussaint and I saw a place of beauty and harmony. I saw happy workers and beautiful lands. I saw proud men and beautiful women and a vibrant culture that had survived for centuries and would survive for centuries more. I could not understand why any of this could still be wrong. But you saw a culture on the verge of stagnation that was ridiculous in it's passions as we desperately try to hold onto the past. You saw laziness and falseness where I saw hard work and industry. You saw bullies where I saw proud and noble men. You saw abused women where I saw properly demure and …. Saint's balls I don't know what.”

He shook his head and I was astonished to see tears standing in his eyes.

“What happened?” I asked gently.

He shrugged. “I'm wrong aren't I.” He said simply. “I hate every second of every day that I wear this stupid armour and this plain sword. I hate that I bow and salute a woman that I despise and I hate that knighthood is no longer the right and priviledge of the noble. I respected Captain de La Tour and I accepted the pretty fiction that he was some noble's bastard to make myself feel better for the fact that he was knighted and given a position of responsibility.

“But now, I feel as though the position of Knight has been diluted. It is a privilidge and a responsibility of the nobility to be a knight and a commoner, some farmer's son has no right to wear the coat of arms and call themselves a knight. I hate it. I hate it and I can't see myself ever getting to a position of not hating it.

“But I'm wrong. Within six months of the Alba division's taking over of the security of Toussaint, the bandits that have plagued our Duchy have been wiped out. We were astonished when the number of reports of monsters and crimes that were taking place in Toussaint went up by a factor of ten within a fortnight of the regiment arriving. So much so that I, and people like me, thought that people must be making it up. But the Duchess ordered that each report be investigated and sure enough, there were few to no falsehoods there. So we started to ask why such things had never been reported before.”

I knew, or could guess why but I left it to him to say.

“It was because the peasa.... the common folk did not trust the Knights Errant to deal with the matter. Even though they had the right to report it. They just didn't trust the Knight's Errant to be bothered with it. As there was no fame or glory in the effort. Or, even if they did, they wouldn't get...”

He shut his eyes in shame.

“Beaten and raped for daring to suggest that another Knight had been acting improperly. We could not be wrong, we were the Knight's Errant.”

He sighed again.

“So we were wrong. And I hate you because you were the people that showed us that. Your sister has turned the Kayalese winery into a force. Not the richest winery in Toussaint, but give it a few years under her guidance and it will be. And she knew nothing about running a winery before she took over. So how did she do it? She found a good and experienced man to run it for her. A commoner. And he runs it and has turned enough of a profit that they are equipping every knight that can't afford it from the best armour and weapon smiths in Toussaint. This stuff?”

He rapped his knuckles on his breast plate.

“This is the best armour that I have ever worn. Lighter and sturdier than I could believe.

“I hate it. I hate it all, but I am wrong and I know it. But by the Lady and the Heron and the cup, I hate it all. I would give anything to be able to return it all to the way it was. I would return us to the days of Glory, of shining Knights and tales of valour and romance on the lips of every man, woman and child within the Duchy. I swear that I would give anything or give up anything to go back to that.”

“Would you give up your wife's love?” I asked.

He looked appalled.

“So not quite anything.” I told him. Tears were running down his face and he looked in a dreadful state. “So if you hate it so much. Why do you do it? I wondered.

I had thought that he had looked appalled before. But I had been wrong. This was a whole new level of pain and anger.

“I am a Knight.” He said as though that explained everything.

I smiled as gently as I could. I rather suspected that I was on the verge of having my head cut off.

“Pretend that I am all the things that you say I am.” I said. “Pretend that I don't know anything about knighthood and tell it to me plain. What does that mean?”

He calmed down as he considered the question.

“The Empress was right.” he began carefully. “Duty is not the first tenet of being a knight. It's not even one of the five major ones. But it is important. The short answer of why I do these things, these things that I despise, then the answer is that I am a knight of Toussaint and it is my duty to see it through with all of the grace that I can muster. If the Duchess orders that this is to take place then it is my Duty to carry out her wishes with all the Honour, Valour, Mercy, Charity and Wisdom that I can bring to bear.”

I grinned at him.

“so if that is the short answer. What is the long answer?”

He grinned back, his earlier unhappiness banished. Forgotten in an instant.

“I met my uncle and he told me everything that had happened from his own point of view. You have met my uncle?”

“Lord Palmerin? I have had that honour.”

“He was everything that I had been taught to believe was the best of Knighthood at that time and when he told me about what had happened. When he told me that you had actually been quite gentle in your accounts and the enormous shame that many of the other Knights that were my contemporaries had felt at what they had seen. The Imperial forces had arrived by then and I begged for, and received, leave to see things for myself. I went around Toussaint and I saw the way that the people reacted to the Soldiers of the 4th. I saw one group outside The Fox (Freddie: An inn in Toussaint) being brought a tray of drinks by the landlady. They insisted on paying but she refused and said that it was the best form of gratitude that she could muster. The men thanked her and moved on.

“I have gone on quests in that area many times and she never brought beer to me. At first I was angry but then I considered why? The answer is that she was not grateful to me. That I had demanded food and drink in order to speed me on my way and that she had not had the ability to refuse. If she had I would have beaten her for witholding what was rightfully mine.”

I didn't believe him. I rather thought he was repeating things that were rote learned. That is what he should have done but I don't believe that he would have ever done it.

“I met the families of those people who Laughing Jack had taken. I met ther fathers, mothers, husbands and children. I was in disguise but they must have known who I was. But they told me of the cruelty that they had received at the hands of my childhood friend. How they had called the victims of Laughing Jack whores and been dismissive of their loss.

“I remember the two of us, Craythorne and I, reading stories about those early knights and how they would defend the honour of the lowliest whore up to the highest lady and I felt ashamed. Ashamed because I knew, I knew that if I had been there, I would even have thought the same thing. Even if I had not actually been as cruel as Crawthorne was, I would still have thought it, you know, up here?”

He gestured to his head.

“And an evil deed in thought is just as evil as the deed itself.” He quoted from somewhere.

“My wife was working at the palace, doing her best to support the Duchess in putting the world to rights which meant that we could not see each other as much as I would prefer. I spent some time with my uncle, but his life was already becoming more and more difficult and I heard increasing things that disgusted and appalled me. People saying that things had gone too far and that the Duchess had lost her way. They talked about revolt and making the Duchess a figurehead while “wiser” heads ruled from behind the scenes. That the Empress had no right to do that which she had and that Toussaint should rebel and secede.

“I was disgusted. Both as a knight of Toussaint on the grounds that, regardless of whether I agree with the Duchess or not, she is the Duchess and it is our duty to do what she orders. And as a newly created man of the world. I have seen the armies of Nilfgaard and if they really wanted to, or if the Duchess asked for help in putting down a small and petty revellion, then the greater Nilfgaardian army wouldn't even notice us as we they rolled over us.

“And you can quote me on that.”

“I will.” I told him with a grin.

“Full plate and chain mail will not last in the mountain passes.” Sir Guillaume went on. “Nor can our war steeds charge in those areas. So the only way to do it is to wait until they come down and charge. At which point the longbows and heavy crossbows fire. The pikemen raise their pikes and we fall from our steeds into the mud and the filth while the infantry arrive and stab us through our visors.” He snorted at the thought before lapsing into an almost meditative state as he stared into the distance. I was just on the verge of speaking up and asking if he had anything else to stay when he started to speak.

“So I went to Lac Celvay. Have you been there?”

“I have not.” I replied.

“I will take you there at some point. It is not the ruins of Elven cities, nor is it the fabled site of the Witch. Nor will you find our best food or wine nor see knights training. It is no temple or statue of Lebioda, nor does it have the historical significance of the Cave of the Spriggan. But it is a very spiritual place for me. It is said, although there is no historical proof of this, that this is where the Lady of the Lake first visited those first knights in order to give them the tenets of knighthood.

“There is no proof that this is true. There are many who claim to have encountered the Lady of the Lake there including Lord Geralt. And it is true that more people have visions of her presence there than anywhere else in Toussaint. So many of us Knights Errant, including me, believe that it is the site of the birth of knighthood and we find it a spiritual place. “I went on retreat there and sat in meditation, waiting for a sign.”

“Did one come?”

“Do they ever?”

“They do, sometimes. But just as often, the difference between a genuinely spiritual vision and one that is brought on by deprivation or self-delusion is often a very fine line indeed.”

He laughed at that.

“Well I waited, not that long actually. I have always hated the “vigil” part of being a knight. I camped on the island that is in the centre of the lake for a day and a knight. Reading the stone tablets there that talk about the five main tenets of knighthood are and meditating on their meaning, or trying to anyway, I didn't get very far. I get bored easily you see and the thought that I kept coming back to, over and over again was that I wanted to get on with things. I wanted to be serving, I wanted to help.”

“So, the morning of my first full day of what was supposed to be a week long vigil, I packed up my gear, ate a huge breakfast and marched up to the palace and offered my blade to Commander Syanna. She was already one of the leading minds in putting together the new form of knights.”

“Her face must have been interesting to watch.”

He guffawed loudly. “You have no idea. Especially as I made no attempt to conceal my distaste. I was actually offering to serve the new order of knights. I knew that she was involved, but I actually expected Captain De La Tour to be in charge, or my Uncle. But no, it had to be the Bitch usurper didn't it.”

He grinned as he said it.

“But I had decided and I knelt to offer my sword despite an almost overwhelming desire to vomit.”

He laughed again.

“I remember the gasps of the court. Former fellows of mine who thought I was being foolish. Men who thought I betrayed everything that I had believe in or been part of up until that point. Funny now but kind of mortifying at the time. I certainly learnt who my friends were after that.”

He snorted.

“But The Commander took my oath and when her sister asked her why she accepted my oath when she had refused a number of others. Something of which I was ignorant. She said that it was because I hated her. And that that would keep her honest.”

“A lot of people hate her.”

“And with good reason Lord Frederick.”

“Do you still hate her?”

“Yes. But in the same way that I hate you. I admire her as well. She swallows all the, frankly justifiable, anger that is levelled at her and turns it into an effort to make us all better. There is something in there to inspire loyalty. Captain De La Tour commands the palace and the Town guard and, so far, I am the first knight of the new order.”

“You intend to win the inaugaral tournament then?”

He grinned hungrily. “I not only intend to, Lord Frederick. I will win it.”

“I can guess, but how does your wife feel about all of this?”

“She made a point of walking out and embracing me as I rose from offering my sword to Commander Syanna, she embraced me and kissed me before the court and told me that she loved me, had always loved me but she had never been prouder of me than she was at that moment.”

“Are you a Father yet?” I wondered after a moment of thought.

“No. Although our duties are keeping us apart in that direction. The Duchess has promised that if we can wait until after the new Knights of Saint Francesca are firmly ensconced, then my wife will be released from duty to be a wife and a mother. We will take up the matter then.”

I nodded my acceptance of all of that. “So,” I smiled a little. “You hate it. You hate it all, but how is it going? Will the new knights measure up?”

He laughed. I was glad to see that he was beginning to cheer up. Hurting him was hard, he was the kind of man that you just wanted to make happy, with his big, honest, expressive face. I don't know how old he is but I almost felt older than him. Leaving me feeling a little cruel with all the questioning that I had done.

“They will measure up.” He said. “They will do Toussaint proud I think.”

“Why?”

It was clearly not a question that he had previously considered. You could tell by the way that he blinked and stared at me as though I had just sprouted horns.

“The Commander has declared that the majority of the knights will be anonymous. We will know who they are and the Duchess will know who they are. But their visors will be down which means that they will become the office of knighthood, not the man, or woman, wearing the armour.

“Our skills at arms are approaching that of the rest of the Knights Errant, even at their peak. Because we do something that they did not. Which was that we work together. It is not a competition between us as to who can win the most renown or who can win the greater honour and glory. Because of that, if a knight is not up to the task but they know the person that is, or they know the skills required, then a message can be sent and a specialist will be called for. The way that Witchers are supposed to be used really. We realise that we are outclassed and call for a Professional.”

“Kerrass will approve.”

“Lord Geralt certainly did. The old Knights Errant were bound by tradition which means that we carried lance and sword into battle. But sometimes that is not good enough and a thing need a mace, a dagger, a short sword. Or sometimes, a knight would be dismissed because that person was not physically capable enough to wield the right weapons. But put a sabre, a rapier or...” He gestured at me, “or a spear into the hands of the right person and suddenly a knight doesn't know what to do.”

He laughed at another memory.

“One of the early recruits followed my example, a young knight Errant decided that he would get fame and fortune in the knights of Francesca. He came into the Chapter house and took up his sword and shield, absolutely intending, I think, to show his worth. I was helping train those less experienced with a blade along with my uncle. It was my studies that were lacking, but I was still good enough with a blade to make a difference.

“So I put that young knight up against a peasant farmer's son. The peasant.... and I know you don't like the word but I promise that you will like where this is going, the peasant had got into the chapter by being strong, agile, capable and clever enough. He was a younger brother of one of the women that Laughing Jack had killed and had felt it necessary to do his part. Admirable really, but the young knight wanted to teach him a lesson.

“The peasant was unarmoured and the knight wore his practice plate and wielded a training blade. The peasant would have been destroyed if I put a blade in his hand but I saw a way to teach both the young knight and the onlookers a lesson that they wouldn't forget. I put one of the training staffs into the hands of the peasant.

“The Commander had ordered training weapons of all sizes and shapes and quarterstaffs were among those ordered, both so that we could learn to use them but also so that we could train against them.

“Can you guess what happened?”

“The peasant trounced the knight.” I said. “I will even go on to guess that the knight got angry and lost his temper and went on to leave the new order.”

“Wrong actually.” Sir Guillaume laughed at me. “The peasant did indeed trounce the knight with a display of skill with the staff sufficient that he was chosen to teach the rest of us how to use a staff, but the two have since become firm friends. When we take over the keeping of security of the realm from the 4th , they intend to travel together.”

“That's nice.” I said, and meant it. “That's really good actually. But let me return back to the original point. I have heard, and read, many times that a fighting force is only as good as their first conflict. That they are like a blade and untempered and that there is no telling, until the first blow is struck, exactly how well the blade will hold up to combat conditions. So, will the knights measure up? Or will they shatter against the first crisis?”

He smiled. I had made a mistake somewhere and he was going to expose it, making himself feel a bit better as part of that effort.

“You are not thinking like a citizen of Toussaint. You are right. We don't have a standing army. There is a palace guard and there is a town guard for moving drunks on, checking customs and things. We are protected by our neighbours and our political allies.”

It sounded like a speech written for him. As though someone else had come up with all of these things and he had learnt to repeat them all verbatim. He proved this right almost immediately.

“Or at least, that's what my wife keeps telling me.”

We both laughed.

“But the truth is still the same. We don't need an army. We need knights. Knights are trained to stand alone and work either in small groups or to work alone with only a squire to help them with basic needs. You might think of that as a master servant relationship but it's not. If a knight had to care for all his weapons, armour, horse, tack, provisions and camping equipment by himself, then he would never get anything done. So a squire is more like a support worker, often a trainee knight themselves.

“So the suggestion that the knights are going to behave the same as an army will. We are supposed to shatter. We are supposed to work separately and apart. We will depend on the bonds between small groups of men and friends and as an organisation as a whole.

“And when Toussaint calls, and it will, we will answer. We are hungry for it, we want it and we will prove all the nay-sayers wrong with how well we do. We will silence the critics and we will make Toussaint ring with trumpets and the sounds of our name. Does that answer your question Lord Frederick?”

I answered his own grin with one of my own. “It does.” I told him. “And it does it well.”

He nodded his satisfaction with that.

We sat in silence for a short while before a thought occurred to me.

“You don't really hate it all do you?” I asked him.

“Hmmm?” He had drifted off into a reverie of some kind. Possibly aided by the fact that he had been pressured into drinking when he was supposed to be on duty. Pressured, by me in fact.

“I am going to hazard a guess.” I told him and leant forward. “You were not the greatest knight of the last days of the Knights Errant. Partly because of Sir Crawthorne, partly because you were in love and marrying your wife, but also because you were not that interested in it. I know who you are Sir Guillaume. Your greatest martial feats were performed in order to prove your adoration to the woman that was to become your wife which was also those times when you got in over your head to a rather comical degree.”

His eyes sparkled with humour at the memory.

“And yet, you are determined to achieve that now. So here is my guess. I think that you are actually loving what is happening now. I think that the hate that you speak of is real. I think that there was genuine affection between you and Sir Crawthorne but I think that that respect, admiration and affection moved towards disgust.

“I think that you were a good knight trying to do your best. I think you were eductated by story books and were, more than a little disillusioned when you discovered that the reality of knighthood was not the same as what you had read.... Once upon a time.

“I think that you told yourself that you adored the office of knighthood. I think you told yourself that over and over and over again until eventually you came to believe it. But I also think that there was a part of you underneath all fo that that was desperately unhappy.

“You were outraged when you heard about Crawthorne's disgrace. You were devestated by the loss of my sister. But I also think that that was because you missed that moment. The last true moment of what could be achieved as a knight.

“I think that you are more intelligent than you let on and more intelligent than even you believe. I think you have spent years looking out of your eyes at the.... at the cult that the knights Errant had become and I think you were disgusted by it. I think you saw it for what it had become but you refused to let yourself see it. I notice that you took the first exit that you could by going travelling with your wife.”

He actually had quite a good Gwent face.

“I think you're having the time of your life. I think you are devoted to making a new breed of knights into what you read about in your childhood. I will agree that you hate your commander, maybe you even hate me, but I think you agree with us. But you tell yourself that you hate it all because that is the behaviour that you had to pretend to from a young age. That was the behaviour you had to display in order to survive.

“Because after all, if everyone else likes it and you don't then that makes you wrong doesn't it.

“And I don't, not for one moment believe that you like your women meek and docile, otherwise you would not have married, and love the women that you did. Nor would you have allowed her to serve in a position higher than your own or allowed her to order you around

“But I think that the knight you were, was not as good as others because you didn't want it enough. But you want it now don't you. You are hungry for it. In exactly the same way that the rest of the knights of Francesca want it. So that they can prove that this new form of knighthood has worth.

“I think you are a good man Sir Guillaume. I think you have been a good man and a good knight for a long time. You have tried to play the game as Toussaint wanted you to play it for so long. But now you can play the game according to your own rules and I think that you have never felt more free in all of your life. Except maybe on your wedding night.”

He laughed at that before considering what I was saying. “It is true that hating you, the Commander and what we are becoming is taking more and more effort as time goes on. I will allow that to be said. Craythorne worried me for a long time. He wanted to be the best. And then when he was, he didn't have anything to fight against. Except to be the best. He didn't want to elevate those under him and make the new-comers better as kngihts should. He wanted to stay on top of the pile.”

He sighed unhappily. “That could have been me, so very easily. Our places could have been traded easily. But he set his sights too high romantically and his heart was broken. He wanted the Duchess you see. It's not like she spurned him. But I suspect, now I know her better through my own wife, she would have been too much for him and he would have been destroyed by that. He would not have been satisfied with being the consort as he preferred his women meek and willing. The Duchess is none of those things despite the front that she presents sometimes.”

I nodded.

“But I'm right for the rest am I not?”

“Maybe. I am uncomfortable with a lot of what you have said which suggests that you might be. I do reject the idea that I am more intelligent than that though.”

He laughed.

The conversation moved onto less threatening topics after that. We played Gwent. He was too good a player to be as stupid as he likes to think he is.

(A/N1: I know, I know. Still no resolutiong. It is still coming I promise. But I wanted to write another chapter about everyone's reintroduction to Toussaint before I got to that. Hopefully next chapter if that chapter doesn't grow out of all proportion, which it might. Thanks for reading.)