(Warning: Contains evidence of trauma. Contains person dealing with Trauma related flashbacks. Also references some institutional misoginy and homophobia. The people responsible for this are roundly mocked for being foolish. Also some historical sexual abuse mentioned briefly with no detail given.)

It's one of those truths that everyone knows, but everyone seems to forget, that a winter sun can be particularly bright. Bright enough that I had to shield my eyes as I emerged into the sunlight from Beauclair palace to walk down to the teleport area.

It was also, according to technical terms, what is known as Fucking Freezing.

Tomorrow was the day of the finals for the inaugaral tournament of the Knights of Saint Francesca, today being a day of “respite” so that the surviving competitors could have a rest, recover a bit and otherwise ensure that they were still capable of actually competing in the joust in the morning. But I did not envy them.

Normally, jousting is a summer occupation, late spring and early autumn where the ground can be expected to be tolerably soft and cushion a knight that is crashing down to the turf with all of that weight around him.

But, unless things were going to change drastically, the ground would be as hard as iron when someone would find themselves sailing over the back of their horse's tail. And judging by the way that Sir Guillaume was wielding his lance at the moment, more than one person was going to be unhorsed on the morrow.

I had wondered to Command Syanna as to whether there was a danger that the knights could end up wiping themselves out before they had the chance to do any protecting of the people that they had been created to protect. But she laughed and told me that the armour that they had ordered from the craftsmen of Toussaint was very good and that I had little need to worry.

I took her at her word.

So I strode down to the transport gate in the sickeningly bright sunshine and the equally as freezing cold air with my escorts beside me. A huge silent man who had not been competing due to his lack of comfort on a horse and a younger, slighter woman who told me that her name was Daphne. She chattered away but was deft enough in her conversation to ensure that there was little to no chance that I would be able to guess as to her identity, or indeed, be able to tell anything about her at all.

So I strode through palace grounds, giving a little nod and a wave to those people that I knew which, by now, was a good number of people. More than one of whom tried to stop me to talk to me about the days business, or the party that I had attended the previous evening, or the one before that. Or the plans for the party that I was attending that night or what I thought of this, that or the other thing. You can say what you like about Toussaint, but the people there are friendly enough to make going anywhere a bit of a chore. You are always stopping to talk to people.

This time though, I had a ready made excuse for my alacrity of movement and my inability to stop to gossip. Meaning that I could quickly make my excuses and get past all of the well-wishers and head on my way.

I was a little nervous about what was about to happen, but if I was truly honest with myself, I would have to admit that I was happy. And overall, I was enjoying my time in Toussaint. There was a small niggling worry in the back of my head that suggested that I might have drunk the same poison that everyone drinks here. Thus suggesting that I had fallen under the spell of Toussaint, a spell that I would not be able to exorcise for some time yet, if ever at all. A spell that would leave me thinking that there was no finer wine than the wine that they served in Toussaint. No finer food than as covers the tables of Toussaint. No more beautiful lady, no more handsome a man and no more beautiful a land as Toussaint itself.

Increasingly though, that small voice had become drowned out by all the rest of the things. The food and the wine really were that good. The mountains really were that beautiful and as for the rest...? Well....

After I had left Toussaint the last time, a number of people had suggested that I should go back one day. That I should go back and allow that place and those people to apologise, for the harm that was done to me. So that I could see Toussaint for the glorious place that it was and enjoy everything that it had to offer. And I had done that. I had allowed that to happen. I had fought it at first, I will admit that. I had fought it at first, really hard in fact. I had laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, the wilful self-delusion that seems to come with having been born here, as well as the otherwise interesting symptoms of that happy madness which afflicts all the people of Toussaint.

But Toussaint, as it tends to, sneaks in through the backdoor of your heart. I found myself wondering where I would build myself a little cottage for Ariadne and I to escape to should we ever feel the need. This despite the rooms that I could keep in Oxenfurt should we need a break to the city, the manor at Angral, the guest quarters at Castle Coulthard that I could always rely on, regardless of Sam or Emma's stewardship of that place. The cabin that was being built for me in Skellige where I would be spending some time after I got married as well. But now I found myself looking around Toussaint as well, looking for an area where I could build a little house. With a string of sausages and garlic near the door.

It was ludicrous of course. But the desire for it was there.

For me, I realised that it was happening when Ariadne and I went for an evening walk in the gardens and we found ourselves moving towards “our” bench. We accidentally disturbed a young couple that were making love on it with a woolen cloak used to protect themselves from the cold stone. It must have been freezing cold and I wondered how they managed to keep the passion going, before the obvious truth occurred to me. Or rather, the truths involved. The first truth being that the pair of them were young and in love. The second truth was that this was Toussaint. The romance of it carried the pair of them throught he worst of the cold and it wasn't as though they had completely undressed.

The couple were so obsessed with each other that they did not notice our approach, so we hid behind a nearby bush and giggled together like children. I remember sighing happily and looking down at the gleeful face of the woman that I love as she looked up at me with the moonlight shining on her face.

“What?” She asked as she sensed my change of mood.

“I love you.” I told her. She always seems to glow a little whenever I tell her that and she tugged me towards her for a kiss that I was all too willing to give her. Then the boy in the couple gave a particularly loud moan which did not, not even for a moment, interrupt the steady rhythm that the couple had established. We giggled quietly and moved off before, in Ariadne's words. “We got carried away by the mood of the moment.

I looked over towards the place as I walked through the gardens to get where I needed to go. I am told that there is some poor gardner, who's job it is to clean the place when people have been getting overly amorous there. I can't imagine the horrors that this poor person may or may not have seen.

But that was not the purpose of my errand today. My errand waited for me in the folly that housed the area that people used to get in and out of Toussaint by magical means.

Lady Vigo was there waiting for me, wrapped in a cloak against the cold. Normally she has her apprentice there in order to stabalise the gate in case anyone needed to come through suddenly and without warning. But in this case, the apprentice had gone home to spend the winter with family and as such, Lady Vigo was by herself.

There is literally a bench nearby for people to sit and wait when they are expecting someone to come through. I greeted Lady Vigo with some gossip and we talked for a little while. Lady Vigo is an interesting lady. Very private but with a wicked sense of humour about her. She presents a kind of front towards everyone which is ultra formal and reserved. But every so often, that front moves aside and you can see the wicked humour and girlishness underneath. She is some kind of distant relation to the Ducal family and has been known to gleefully enjoy the wine pressing, setting aside her skirts and dresses to leap into the vats and jump up and down on all of the grapes to extract the juice.

However, underneath the humour and reserve, I think that there is a well of sadness there. She spent a lot of time being imprisoned by Nilfgaard and spending her time in the Emperor's dungeons. Always with the spectre of summary execution hanging over her at all times but never quite being followed through on. She was court mage to the Emperor before Lady Yennefer was, but her membership of the Lodge of Sorceresses was declared treason and she was stripped of her rank. Only to be replaced by Yennefer her long term rival and friend.

The rivalry between the two women stems from Lady Vigo being another Sorceress that was attracted to Lord Geralt. That and the two women being on opposite sides of the battlefield at Sodden. Indeed, according to Lady Yennefer, she was blinded at that battle by a magical effort of Lady Vigo. The two set aside their differences afterwards though over an effort to rescue Ciri. But then Yennefer took Lady Vigo's position in the ear of the Emperor to the point where she was able to arrange the pardon and release of Lady Vigo and secure the future of the Lodge of Sorceresses in the Empire.

Which left Lady Vigo with nothing much to do. So she had gone home to Toussaint and spent her time there, enjoying the sun and the wine while she waited for inspiration to strike. Safe in the comfort of the knowledge that she is a Sorceress and she has time.

I greeted her as I approached.

“They're late.” She said.

“Who are?”

“The Kalayn party.”

“They would be.” I told her.

“Something I should know about Lord Frederick?” She wondered with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Is your family going to taint these proceedings even further with your shenanigans?”

“Taint?” I wondered with a smile, sensing that I was being mocked.

She waved my question off.

“Nah.” I told her. “People around Sam might want us all to wait and mess us around. But it's far more likely that he's forgotten something, or is just unorganised.”

“Not a good quality in a lord.” She observed.

I laughed. “Sam is a good man and when it comes to his duties, he is meticulous in his time keeping. A leftover from his time in the military But when it's anything else, family, romantic or other kinds of business. Then he lets that kind of attitude go for some reason that we have never been able to tell. Where he was always on time or early for training, he would always be late for dinner and I genuinely believe him whenever he says that he forgot.”

She sniffed and turned back to her book. She had a small desk nearby and was making notes on a small piece of parchment. “I trust you are taking your medicine properly.” She commented in dire tones. “You are still recovering after all.”

I took out the small flask of tonic that Sir Walther had given me and sloshed it around in front of her face. A gesture that she ignored.

I sat on the nearby bench and leant my head back. From previous experience it could be anything from a few minutes to several hours before Sam would be ready for anything. That was fine though, it meant that I could just spend some time out of doors and breathing in and out and enjoying some time to myself rather than being surrounded by people. Well meaining people to be sure. But sometimes you just want to let everything go.

It had been several weeks since that night of the welcoming banquet and a lot had happened, while at the same time, not very much had happened at all.

I met the lady that Ariadne had chosen to be her surrogate in my bed chamber for those parts of my life when Ariadne herslef could not be present for proprieties sake. She was to comfort me in the evening, or in the night or at any other moment where I might need closeness or intimacy. I do not understand the logic of why such a thing was needed. It was something to do with keeping me grounded and present. To be there to remind me where I was and, apparently more importantly, to remind me “when” I was. She was there to hold me through the nightmares and, most embarrassingly, stroke my head as I fell asleep.

As Sir Walther had said, normally, this action would be performed by a person intimate to the patient. A girlfriend, wife or lover. But as I did not have any of these. Instead, I had a fiancee and we were not yet comfortable with the two of us sharing a bed. Not yet at least.

I'm not going to go over the reasons for that again. So do not ask. I swear that I get more letters on this subject than I do about anything else combined and it's both frustrating and insulting so stop it. This is our choice and we have made it so stop badgering me, and definitely stop badgering Ariadne about it. Otherwise our reactions might start to become a little more... extreme.

Apparently, the same function can be performed by a family pet such as a dog. But that would not really suit my lifestyle and as a result, it had been decided, by Ariadne not me, that I should have some kind of temporary mistress. Someone who could take her place in my bed with Ariadne's consent, knowledge and, it would seem, her enjoyment as well.

It was not as scandelous as you might think. When the arrangement had first been discussed, I had been mortified by the prospect but when it was put in these words instead, I was slightly put at my ease. The practice of “official mistresshood” is something that has been around for a while. This is where a man, pretty much in my position, either separate from his wife, or fallen out of favour with his wife, might take a lover and declare her his “formal mistress.”

The lady in question is often given similar rights and privilidges as a wife, but without a lot of the legal protections. She will often have her own servants and households and it happens with the consent of the wives of the gentlemen a surprising amount. It is risky for the Mistress however and they do need to be careful. They can often find themselves turfed out should the marriage be repaired, or the man die. So it is often wise to ensure that they are properly looked after when the affair comes to an end

But in this case, the arrangement was formalised, paid for and set up in such a way that it would last until I left Toussaint. A time that was still quite distant.

Her name was Ann. Ariadne, specifically, chose her having gone to the finest bordello in Beauclair, she had interviewed a number of candidates, much to the Madame's amusement and the consternation of the ladies of the place, before choosing Ann herself. I have no idea as to what Ariadne's criteria were in doing the selection, nor did I ever ask.

There was some concern on Ann's part that she would be acting as some kind of nursemaid and indeed she told us both that when I first met her.

It was the night of the banquet when Ariadne brought me to her. She had been put in my room in a heavy cloak before Ariadne came to fetch me.

There was some awkwardness at first, but Ann quickly took charge so that the three of us say down at a table. One of the servants brought some light refreshments of the mulled wine, cheese and crackers variety.

“Not the most unusual contract that I have ever been hired for.” Was Ann's opening gambit. “But not far off.” She smiled with just a hint of suggestion that she was laughing at the entire situation.

Saying that she was attractive was a little reundant. She had long blonde hair that she had tied up into a bun at that time, as well as startling green eyes. Heart shaped face with a pointed nose and a wicked twist to her mouth that made the mind move towards mischief.

“So,” She told me as a matter of business. “I have spent some time talking to the Lady Ariadne here and I want to say to you, the same things that I said to her. The first is that I am not a nursemaid. I will not wipe your arse nor hold your dick while you piss. I will not clean your vomit from the floor or the bed clothes and should you vomit on me then I am gone. The instant you drool on me in anything other than a sexual manner, is the moment that I pick myself up, demand full payment and leave. The Lady has reassured me that this was not the case, but I have been caught out by that kind of thing before.”

“I understand.” Ariadne said.

“I am also not here to act as your servant.” She told me. “I am here to act as a, what we in the trade call, a Lover's experience. It is a longer contract that I would normally take up to be sure and I will admit that the client is older, younger, more confident seeming and better looking than the kind of gentleman that goes for this kind of thing. It is all but unique that I should be hired by the client's fiancess before a wedding however so I am forced to ask the following question?” She grinned. “Are you guys shitting me? Am I being set up for something here?”

“Does that happen often?” I wondered.

“More times than you would care to think. Where I get set up by one party to be the mistress of another, only for the first to “find us” and be outraged so that a betrothal contract can be broken.”

“Huh.” I said, rather stupidly.

“How sick are you?” She asked.

“Not very.” I responded, rather too quickly.

“Really quite sick.” Ariadne said at the same time. “My fiance, as I said earlier today, has seen some horrible things and been through some extreme things. At the time, he deferred recovery from his injuries and put off dealing with what he saw on a personal level. Now he is paying for that delay.”

She nodded. “I understand.” She said. Anne turned to me. “Lady Ariadne already knows this story but I shall tell you as well. My brother was in a cave-in once. He worked at a vinyard off to the North when the ground gave way beneath his feet due to tunnelling Kikkimores. He was trapped there for some time, not daring to move in case those movements attracted the monsters. He was found, several days later by Lord Geralt who was hired by the Vinyard overseer who was looking at the matter. He was afraid of the dark for some time and, as far as I know, he still won't go into a vinyard and his wife claims that he cannot sleep without a candle on in the room.”

I nodded my acceptance of this. Anne gazed at me for a long time before nodding her head. “I will accept this contract I think although I still have a number of questions.”

“Please.”

“Should I grow pregnant, which is a risk from a contract of this length, what is to become of me and the child?”

“Herbal precautions not withstanding?” Ariadne asked before I could open my mouth.

“Precautions not withstanding.” Anne confirmed. “Although the potions are good, there is no such thing as a perfect preventative. And I would prefer not to use them where possible as the side effects of using such matters can be deadly. Normally, I can be careful about timing. My calander is booked out in red ink and I am still of an age where I am reliably timed. I make enough money that I can afford to be cautious as well. But that might not be the case here.”

“I see.” Ariadne said, “So what you're asking of the Vampire and the Nobleman, is what would happen if you fall pregnant and choose to keep the baby.”

“I am.”

“Nothing at all.” Ariadne responded. “If you are hunting for upkeep of yourself or the child or view my love as a way to get rich quick, then you should know that blackmail is not an option here. There is no-one to blackmail”

Anne nodded at this. “I had accepted that. That is not what I asking.”

“Then if you are just looking for children, then you have nothing to fear. If you do grow pregnant and need somewhere to go then present yourself to our home in Angral and a place will be found for you and the child, regardless of whether the child is Freddie's or not.”

Anne nodded.

“Do I not get a say in the matter?” I wondered.

“Not really.” Ariadne said. “If the child is yours then we can arrange something if both you and Anne here agree. Matters of legitimacy would come later as I would rather it be my children that would end up being our heirs. But I rather think that that is not what Anne is asking here,” She turned back to Anne. “Is it?”

“No.”

Dawning realisation occurred and I sighed. “You're checking on the Elder Vampire's response to the possibility that we might sleep together. Damn me but I really should have caught that.”

“You should.” Ariadne replied. “But you're sick. Be gentle with yourself.”

Anne shifted a little uncomfortably. “The thought had occurred.” She admitted. “Recent Tousssaint history is defined by two events. The dissappearance of the saint and the night of the Long Fangs. Where a heart-broken Elder Vampire laid waste to the countryside.”

“It is not an unreasonable fear.” Ariadne said calmly. “But I am not Detlaff. Freddie has made no false promises to me. He has never hurt me intentionally and when he has hurt me his remorse has been instantaneous and unreserved. This entire situation is going to be strange for both of us, there is no getting round that. But I love him, he needs help, I cannot give him that help at the moment for reasons that are beyond my control. So I need you to give him that help for me.

“If you can save this man, or help him even a little bit. Or even if you just try without actually achieving anything, then you should know that you will have my undying gratitude and endless affection. If it becomes more uncomfortable than either of us can bear, then we will have that discussion as and when it comes up.”

Anne nodded her acceptance of this.

“So there's no roleplaying here. No, me needing to pretend to be a damsel in distress, or a clandestine affair that must be kept from a jealous wife?”

“No,” Ariadne and I both said.

“Indeed,” Ariadne went on. “I would like it if the two of us can be friends. I would like to discuss how he's doing with you and discuss other things that can help towards his recovery.” Then she smiled wickedly. “As well as some other tips that you might be able to give.”

Anne laughed. “My best tip in the regard is that it's better for the two of you to explore that for yourselves. What works for me might not work for you. He loves you.”

“He will love you too.” Ariadne told the astonished courtesan. “Just not in the same way. I suspect that you will have known more skilled lovers, but none so genuine.”

“I will make my own opinion on that.” Anne said.

“You ladies understand that I am sitting over here right?” I wondered.

They both stared at me with withering scorn, in almost exactly the same way. Such that it was comical. Certainly enough that I laughed. Which got me an even harsher glare.

Still from both of them.

“Then my only other rule when it comes to dealing with married couples or couples in a loving relationship is...”

“Hang on?” I asked, my curiosity was getting insatiable. At some point I might even need to wonder if I have a real problem. “Do you get many couples wanting, or needing your services?”

“More than you would think?” She answered promptly in a way that left me thinking that it was a common question, “But not as many that would stop it from being a taboo. But as I say, I refuse to have someone watching me when things are getting more... intimate. I understand that there is an element of recovery here and you, milady, want to be involved as much as possible. But I don't want to feel as though I am being graded on my performance, either athletically or in regards to the emotional connection.”

“I understand.”

Anne gazed at Ariadne flatly for a while before Ariadne chuckled at herself and rose to her feet. “I should have seen that for the cue that it was. The two of you should know that there are no engagements tomorrow until the afternoon where we are invited to a wine tasting at Corvo Bianco before we come back here for a slightly more subdued feast in the evening. I think it would be beneficial for Lord Frederick to attend. I will send someone with an hours warning.”

Anne nodded as Ariadne rose to her feet, kissed me on the forehead, smiled at Anne and left.

“I am still here.” She told me through the link as she closed the door behind her. “I will never leave you.”

I was grateful for the reassurance as Anne poured us both a drink. “So,” She began with a small smile. “Just how awkward is this for you?”

It turned out to not be that awkward after all. Anne treated it all like it was some kind of... I don't know. It was like we were old friends within moments. There was affection there, and intimacy certainly, but there was little to no romance involved. It was affection, passion and care without the romance. There was certainly none of the things that you occasionally get with some of the bordellos where the lady in question pretends to be in love with you.

And yes. All women that work in these kinds of establishments are ladies. I have written before that neither I, nor anyone in my presence will ever disrespect anyone, male or female, that makes their living in the sex trade. However, nothing will save you from my ire more assuredly than if you seek to take advantage of these, often, very fine people.

There was titilation, there was passion and arousal. But nothing that...

The closest I can think of, is a lady that I once knew at University. As I have said, I lost my virginity with undue haste by having an awkward encounter at an upper market brothel in Oxenfurt with a lady that was very kind to me. But afterwards, I was astonished that nothing had changed. I was no more confident in myself or with my social connections, certainly no more confident with women. So, eventually, I decided that the barrier between myself and romance was something of my own making.

A few months into this, I met a girl and the two of us became close for a while before she went off with someone else. But she was someone who I was good friends with for a while. We would drink together, have fun together, go and see shows and things together. And occasionally, we would just sleep together.

That was the closest thing that I can think of to how Anne behaved. Friends who slept together. But there was more care to it. It felt closer and more intimate.

I suppose that there's only so many times that you can spend the night in the same bed, or cry yourself to sleep in someone's arms before intimacy creeps into things.

I should also say that it was not as salacious as you might think. My sex drive was all but non-existent at the beginning of my time with Anne. I could certainly appreciate the beautiful woman who's arms that I was in, but my desire to act on that just didn't seem to come up. At one point she pointed out that the only time she could get anything moving in a sexual way was if she pounced on me in the early hours of the morning. In that strange land before I had entirely woken up and she could arouse my body before my brain got in the way.

To my mind, I was mostly too exhausted to act on the fact that I had an undeniably beautiful woman in my bed. There was undeniably the factor that Ariadne was in the next room which contributed to this. But also the sheer effort of keeping myself going through the day. The effort of putting a brave face on things while people kept telling me how awful it must have been to lose my sister. It would have been all too easy to lose myself into yet another spiral of self-recrimination, depression and self hatred at the fact that I hadn't found Francesca.

Even when other people weren't talking to me about all of these things it was so easy to look around Toussaint and see something that reminded me of my sister sharply. The corner of the palace where Francesca jumped out at me and hugged me to congratulate me on my engagement. The room where she had stood behind the Empress as my embarassment was made clear. The balcony where Francesca had hosted the family, the Empress, several Witchers and my new fiancee to a dinner.

There was so much memory made manifest in Beauclair, town and palace, that made it difficult to keep these things at bay. But I couldn't allow myself the peace of tears or depression. I had to pick myself up and keep going. Dancing with the people at the parties, enjoying the tournaments and paying attention to the tours and things that we went to. But it was exhausting doing that. It's exhausting to attend all of these social events anyway, but it is even more exhausting to maintain a happy face on top of that as well.

The others would help with that. Kerrass was still acting as my ever present nursemaid and he would often just appear at my elbow with a drink, a joke or a comment. Or Ariadne would appear, linking her arm through mind so that I could take a break from the conversation, and remember her to whoever it was that I was talking to. Then she would take up the thread of the conversation from there while I collected what remained of my self control.

That's not to say that what was happening socially was unpleasant. Far from it in fact. It was all lovely, the food, the wine, the song, the dancing and other artistic displays. I loved it all. But that can be just as tiring as the stuff that is unpleasant or that depresses you itself.

So when we got back from wherever it was that we were going that day, or that night, then the family would sit for a while with Kerrass, Laurelen and Ariadne and we would spend a bit of time talking about the strategy that was involved in what would come next. Anne would often leave during these meetings and go off to prepare for my return to my chambers. When it was clear that I could no longer keep the tears at bay, or I was beginning to shake with whatever emotion that I had repressed over the course of the day then Ariadne, or Kerrass, would order me to bed where Anne would have a hot bath ready for me. She would bathe me and then we would go to bed for the night or occasionally a nap if this was happening in the middle of the day.

For her part, Anne, claimed that she had had considerably less pleasant times with her work. She would spend her days in her rooms, other than those times where she had to go into town on an errand or another. Most often when the rest of us were busy. Ariadne would always escort me to official functions so Anne was generally only with us when we were staying at some place other than at the palace, or when the family was all together. My family did me very proud with the way that they treated her. Ariadne spent a lot of time getting to know her and the two would often sit in the corner of the room and gossip a little. Ariadne was fascinated with some of the things that Anne told her about the way her life worked, what she did and how she behaved.

Emma was a little bit put off by her. Her way of dealing with this was to make Anne a friend and went out of her way to make the other woman comfortable in everyone's presence. Laurelen commented that this is how Emma deals with things that make her uncomfortable now, ever since the situation with the Elves. Why was Emma put off by her? I have no idea. Something to do with her function or her overall profession perhaps. I do find it a little odd that my sister, who pushes more progressive sexual politics since openly loving a woman, can sometimes be a bit of a prude.

Laurelen didn't give a damn. Neither did Mark which I was delighted by. He talked to Anne when she was sitting by herself or if he himself wanted some conversation. He treated her like any other person but with the slight edge that suggested that this was how he treated other professional people in his life. He was friendly without being a friend. Charming without charming her.

She and Kerrass barely interacted, although I think that this was more on Anne's part than on Kerrass' part. He claims to have been oblivious to it although, in private, Ariadne suggested that maybe Anne had a crush on him, or that Kerrass reminded Anne of someone that she had a crush on or was unhappily in love with. I didn't pursue it.

But as I say, the time since we had arrived in Toussaint had not been unpleasant. Far from it.

That first day after we had been welcomed at the official banquet was the beginning of the Tournament of Saint Francesca. We were reassured that if we wanted to attend, that we would be very welcome, but that this was not to be entirely expected. There was a certain amount of telling people that we were the guests of honour and that part of what these knights were competing for was the honour of our attentions. We would go and see them for the finals but we were encouraged to leave it for a few days before we actually took our spaces on the stands.

It also needs to be said that it was not only the knights of Saint Francesca that were competing. There were also many other knights that were there from around Toussaint and more than a few from outside as well. Including a number of the officers of the fourth and more than one representative of the Northern Kingdoms. The more socially acceptable parts of the transport gates meant that people were more comfortable with coming south. There was still a bit of a problem that it was a winter tournament which meant that not everyone who wanted to compete could come, but there was certainly plenty of people that wore their full pagentry. Not just the anonymous and faceless plates of the knights of Saint Francesca.

There was an event that was only for those knights of Saint Francesca though which was about who would hold the position of champion of the Saint. My understanding was that this person would then be a faceless, anonymous knight who would ride in defence of the honour of any woman that needed a champion but otherwise wouldn't be able to be represented. All that the lady had to do was to make herself known to a knight of Saint Francesca and explain her case and who she was up against and explain why she could not otherwise be represented by someone else.

And then this nameless knight would ride, or fight, in her stead. Knight Commander Syanna had insisted that this be a vital part of knighthood and that although knights were, currently, falling over themselves in order to represent those less fortunate women than themselves, she suggested that this was because, at the moment, this was fashionable. She predicted a time where knights and warriors would become less inclined to help those who would not or could not offer a reward.

She also wanted to make sure that Ladies could not take advantage of this situation who could otherwise call on their husbands or brothers or something. People who were abusing the privilidge to bully others.

I could think of several ways that this system could still be abused and said so. She agreed, but that there was no perfect solution and that these things would be worked on over time. But for the right here and right now, she would rather a situation where someone who couldn't protect themselves, could be protected over denying everyone.

I did agree with that.

So we attended the opening ceremony which is, for those people that have never been to one of these in the past, essentially a glorified parade and series of spectacles. This is where knights perform tricks, or get their horses to dance or otherwise stand and rear proudly on command. It's where they perform weapons demonstrations and the like. As I say, in thory this is to ensure that the knights get to show off a little bit but in reality, it's much more of an intimidation specatacle. So that people can show off and frighten people into giving up before everything has begun.

We had a commentary from Commander Syanna who joined us in the box. Sir Guillaume was now taking part in the tournament and disagreed with the entire process and so, would only be part of the parade of the new knightly order. She approved of his attitude and pointed out that none of the knights under her command were taking part in “such foolishness.”

“Why is it foolish?” Mark wanted to know.

“Because they are all but showing their competitors what they are capable of.” Kerrass told him.

“It's true,” Syanna agreed.

“Why?”

“Well, first of all, a tournament is supposed to be about skill, not head games. It's the most skilled opponent that is supposed to come out on top, not the cleverest. That is what chess or card tournaments are for. But second of all, if you show how good you are with the sword, you are also giving people time to analyse your form and look for weaknesses. For example, you see that knight over there with the three towers on his shield?”

“I see him.” Mark replied.

“You see that as he moves, the twirl on the right, upper quarter is getting quicker and less controlled?”

“I will take your word for it.” Mark responded. “It looks very skilled to me.”

“I can see it.” Kerrass said.

So could I, but I didn't want to tell Mark that. I was gritting my teeth at all the noise and things that was going around and crashing in my ears. I was holding onto the arms of my chair with a white knuckle grip to remind myself that I was here and not in the cavern of the First-born with all that noise and shouting. Ariadne rested her hand on top of one of mine and squeezed gently, letting me know that she was there.

“Well that quickness tells me, and any swordsman watching, that he injured his shoulder recently and has not properly recovered. Which leaves him weak and open for reprisal. My guess is that he will be eliminated in the first, or at most, second round.”

“I see.” Mark responded. “There is more to this than is at first apparent.”

The parade happened and took a long time as the competitors formed up and marched past us, lances or swords raised in salute from the back of horses or on foot. The trumpets played and the crowd roared as particularly famous knights rode past this way and that way. It was impossible to not feel something as all of that happened. It was impossible not to feel a stirring of something primal in the depths of your soul as the banners and penants snapped in the wind, the thundering of hooves and the roars of the crowd.

Occasionally, I have spoken about those moments in my travels that I have come to believe deserve to be immortalised in oils, ink or however people want to do it. It has even been suggested that I should commission an artist to do precisely that and to paint these images. The Witcher on the edge of the town, waiting to see if he was going to be hired or turned away. The Vampire embracing the Witcher, the death of the Wave-Serpent and the Man playing chess with a Unicorn. There are numerous examples of these. I probably won't do any of these things even though the prospect is attractive. But that's more because a painting cannot possibly conjure the image, or properly invoke the memory of what actually happened to my satisfaction. The colours never seem quite as vibrant, the depth of the image is always lacking.

Because of course it is. It's painted on canvas after all.

And being in the Duchess' box during the opening ceremony of a Tournament of Toussaint. The inaugaral winter tournament of the knights of Saint Francesca. It was impossible to not be moved by what we saw that day.

In the Duchess' central position, the throne had been replaced by a life size portrait of Francesca, sitting on a simple chair like a Queen so that she could watch as all of these knights would come and do her homage.

All of the knights cried out oaths that they would win this tournament, or win their own event so that they could dedicate that prize to this lady or that lady in the crowd.

Some of it was funny, some of it was sweet and some of it was a little offensive. More than one person declared Ariadne to be the most beautiful woman in the gathering, declaring that she needed a real man rather than a weakling that could not compete. It was always said with a touch of humour about the phrase and the more flowery language so that I couldn't really take offense to any of it. But the sentiment was real enough. Syanna told me not to worry about it and that she had marked those men who had made those jokes so that they could be taken to task later.

They rode past in ones and twos, sometimes making their horses rear with a simple trick or, at worst, by raking their spurs down their horses sides. I might not know much about horses but I know enough to get angry about that kind of thing. If you want a horse to do something regularly and on command, then train it. Do not try and show your masculinity by torturing an animal.

Another focus of the knights amourousness was Emma, who regularly got told that she was a beautiful woman and that all she needed was a real man. Emma said nothing and ignored those, mostly young, knights who declared this. I had heard that she occasionaly struggles with this as people persist in trying to get her to marry them, determined to get their hands on the family's company. Refusing to believe that Emma simply has no need of, or interest in, the marriage in question.

She stared stonily ahead and ignored the matter when it came up. But I rather think that there was more than one man there that would regret their hasty words that day.

Other knights would make their marks, or call out to wives or fiancee's in the crowd but by far the most of the calls and compliments fell at the base of the painting of Francesca.

The knights that were the officers of the 4th that had chosen to compete, wore their own standards as well as the standard of the 4th and they saluted the Duchess to a man, other than Colonel Duberton himself who saluted the Duchess but threw a red rose towards his wife.

Everything at this kind of tournament has symbolism. Everything makes a statement. It's almost exactly like a courtroom in that regard and if you've never been to a tournament and want to understand the intricacies of what is going on, then I suggest going with someone who can translate for you.

The knights ride, or walk out before the Ducal box and the audience. They wear their best and most formal armour which is almost never anything to do with what they will actually be wearing during their bouts. It is designed to show off rather than be protective. I saw a knight parade out in a doublet and hose once because it was a hot day and he didn't want to waste time waiting before the ball that evening.

But they come out in no particular order. The knights can go out first, or last. But even that has a statement. Do you go out before the Duchess or VIP's have arrived? Or after. Do you go out and do your best tricks before the gathered commonfolk or reserve your most impressive rear and gallop for the gathered nobility.

When they go out there, then they can do several things. They can offer a salute which is typically the lifting of the chosen weapon. Often the weapon of their contest or their favourite if they compete in more than one type of contest. So if a man prefers the sword to the joust then he would salute with his sword.

Traditionally you are supposed to salute the person to whom you owe fealty. Therefore, if the Empress was in attendance, then everyone should salute the Empress. But some might take this opportunity to salute their own liege lord over their overlord in order to curry favour and display devotion. Or if they want to be remembered to the overlord then they might salute them instead. Or they might do that at their own Lord's insistance.

For example, using Skellige as the model because their Lords and systems are simpler than the more tangled chain of fealties that Redania boasts.

Svein is Lord of the village and owes his fealty to Helfdan. Helfdan is Jarl and owes his fealty to the Queen. So a warrior of Svein's village has three choices as to whom he should salute. If he is happy where he is and wishes his victory to reflect on the village then he would salute Svein. But Svein might want all of his warrior's efforts to reflect on Helfdan. So he would order his warrior to salute Helfdan. But Helfdan's devotion to the Queen is well known. Therefore, he wants every warrior under his command to salute the Queen. But if that warrior is dissatisfied with Svein's leadership, then he might salute Helfdan, or some other Lord who is putting together a raiding party, or some other Jarl if he is hoping to change clans. It is also not unheard of for a man to salute the father of the woman he wants to marry or his own parents.

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Wheels within wheels within wheels.

Then a man can ask for his lady's favour. Not as popular as you might think because of the rose thing but we will get to that shortly. The lady's favour is supposed to be a symbol of the lady lending their own strength to the knight's own. It's supposed to be flattering to be asked and it is not unusual for Ladies to carry a number of small scarves or ribbons, which are the traditional signs of a lady's favour, to the stands for this purpose.

This practice has fallen into misuse a lot more recently. It used to be a way that a knight could begin a courtship and the lady would acknowledge this by handing over the scarf. Unfortunately this would mean that the lady would often turn to their father's before agreeing to hand over the scarf or symbol of favour. So a knight was risking it all in what is supposed to be a grand romantic gesture, but it was becoming more... staid and could be arranged in advance. Which kind of goes against the romance of the thing.

The other problem with it was that, with the increase in power of women in the continent, (Queen Cerys of Skellige, Queen Regent Adda of Redania, Queen Anais of Temeria, Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia and of course Empress Cirilla of Nilfgaard) then this means that women are much more confident in simply ignoring the request for favour by pretending to have a conversation with someone else in the stands.

So now it is more of a gesture of love. Often between husbands and wives or approved fiancees where the betrothal is well known, where the love is established and reciprocated. Were I to ride, which of course I wouldn't, but where I to, I would be able to confidently ask Ariadne for her favour for that purpose.

But then we come to the rose.

The rose is, as far as I know, a tradition that was founded in Toussaint. Other places have individual tournaments of the rose, or they might have the main prize be some kind of crafted rose made out of glass, gold or carved out of some precious jem. The winner of the melee or the joust would then receive the rose and be expected to give that rose to “the most beautiful woman in attendance”. I will leave it to your imagination as to all of the different ways that such an action could go wrong, or right for both the giver and the receiver of the rose in question.

But in Toussaint, the place where they all but invented courtly and romantic love. A knight is encouraged, or even expected, to give a rose to the object of their desires. This tradition is even codified down to the shade of the rose and the state of blooming of the rose on the day of it's gifting. The shade is decided on a scale from white through pink and red to a deep burgundy that is almost black. This is the scale that denotes the carnal nature of the devotion.

If the rose is white then that would signal that, although the knight might want for more in his deepest heart of hearts, his devotion is pure and unsullied. It would be the kind of rose that you would throw at the feet of your liege's wife, a mother, a sister or ruler if your ruler happened to be female. The romantic form of the white rose is something that you might give to a lady who married someone else. It would be an acknowledgment of an unrequited love, or a love that could not be.

But it is a symbol of great pride for a lady to capture many white roses because such things suggest great beauty and devotion.

The redder the shade of the petals, the closer that love has come towards consummation, or the more carnal the nature of the devotion. Pink would be passionate embraces and ardent kisses. I am quoting from one of the minstrels of Toussaint that explained all of this to me. Red would be a love that has been consummated at some time whereas a deep, burgundy would be an ardent and passionate affair consisting of many trysts.

Or it might be a symbol between a loving and happily married couple.

Or a desire to get really carnal with the person that you are tossing the rose to.

So I would send a white rose to Ciri, Emma, mother, or possibly the Queen Regent if no-one else was in attendance. Or a pink rose to Ariadne. After we are married and after our wedding night then I would use a red rose and after that, at a time of our choosing, then it would move into a deeper red.

The age of the rose is supposed to denote the age, or depth of that feeling. So if a knight has just met the girl or seen them from afar, then it should be a rose still in bud. Wheras a man who has met the object of his desires or devotion many times would send a newly bloomed rose. A man who knows the person well would send a rose in full bloom.

A knight is supposed to only carry one rose to the opening ceremony and to hurl it at the feet of their chosen lady, but that tradition is genuinely ignored providing said knight makes his offerings to show love of different kinds.

Yes, it was winter and yes, that means that roses tend not to bloom so much. The majority of these roses were carved from wood and painted accordingly. There were artisans selling them in the streets and making a small fortune off knights desperate to properly declare their love.

It is a fascinating science and watching it all happen at the various stages could keep a courtier entertained for days. Which knight comes out first, which knight comes out last, who comes out in groups, who does the tricks, who just rides steadily along and salutes the head of the tournament and their liege.

Why might that be?

Where do the roses go? what shade of the roses are thrown? it goes on and on and on. As I say, a courtier can be fascinated by it all and if I was by myself with nothing better to do, then I would have almost enjoyed it. But that was not what was going on here. I was a performer and could not really look around to see what was going on. My job was to laugh as though those knights that threw a rose at the feet of Ariadne were making a joke rather than insulting me to my face.

Which they were and Syanna took careful note of who I might need to destroy at a later date.

Not that I would, but it is occasionally useful to know who your enemies are in the crowd before you get to that specific place of having to be nice to them in public.

Ariadne did indeed get more than one rose, mostly of the white variety, but there were one or two red roses in full bloon that were clearly there to get some form of reaction. I was well aware that Ariadne had taken loversin the past, but judging from her reaction to those roses being thrown, I rather thought that she would prefer to lick the arm pit of a bog hag than acknowledge their affections.

You are welcome for that image by the way.

Emma also got a number of roses. Again, mostly white but with one or two insulting dark red roses in the mix. A possibility that was truly laughable and I saw her eyes flashing as she made notice of those knights that had thrown those flowers.

But by far the most common recipient of those roses was the portrait of Francesca. So much so that the stand that the portrait was resting on had to be lifted clear of the pettals and rose-buds. A not insignificant portion of those came from the knights of her name, who rode out in formation and with one, unified, gesture, took out white roses and threw them at the feet of the portrait. This before they drew their relevant weapons and roared a salute. It was stirring and emotional to see that and I was not the only one who wiped a tear from my eye.

Mark would later comment. “If that is our only legacy.... her only legacy I mean. That she has given her name and appearance to a group of knights devoted to righting wrongs, then I can be proud of that.”

He was not wrong.

The Duchess was also trying to start another tradition here. There was now going to be an annual tournament which was going to be Francesca's tournament. She admitted that, in the long run, there would be little that she could do to prevent it from becoming “Saint Francesca's tournament” but for now, she would see to it that people remembered the woman rather than the figure that she was becoming. A fact for which I was grateful.

What this meant was that the ceremonial words that are suppsed to be spoken at the beginning of this event or that event, the things that are said, normally, by the Patron of the Tournament, would be said by either the Duchess or any future wife of any future Duke, or by any woman that wished to honour Francesca. These women would be chosen by the knights of Francesca in the future from those people that the knights had been able to save. This honour would ensure that the rank, title, attractiveness or wealth of the lady would not be taken to account. So the words of benediction could be said by the youngest child to the oldest woman providing the words could be heard clearly. But also by the highest lady in the land down to the lowest “street rat”.

I liked that. I rather think that Francesca would have approved of that.

In this case however, Emma, Ariadne and Laurelen would all take part in the ceremony at the beginning of the Joust, the Archery and the sword respectfully. My understanding was that the Duchess would speak at the beginning of the overall contest and Syanna would pronounce the opening of the Mace. There were some others that would be opening the remaining tournaments of Wrestling, staff and spear.

It was a good day all told, the bright winter air of Toussaint meant that the stands were full and cheered every appropriate place and to every proper gesture. They booed and hissed the villains and they cheered the heroes.

Because yes. The show is also part of what people come to see. And whenever there is the need for a show, there is also a need for a hero, and another need for a villain. I am told that the knights that take on these roles come to relish them although, having met some of them later and in private, I can also tell you that one of the nicest knights I had the good fortune to meet competed as a villain in black armour, berating the crowd indimiscriminate of rank for their discourtesies, while one of the most arrogant sons of bitches that I have had the misfortune to encounter was a beloved hero to the people.

There is something to learn from that, I have no idea what but there was something to that.

So we attended that ceremony and heard the Duchess speak. It was not a small speech but it was also not the longest speech that I have ever heard either and the Duchess spoke well. I don't know why I was surprised by that but I was. She was speaking to the crowd, to the assembled knights who all came onto the field at the end for her final review and the other nobles that were watching in the box.

She welcomed us back to Toussaint and admonished all those within Toussaint to ensure that our memories of this visit would be far more pleasurable than the memories that we had been left with from the previous visit.

She spoke briefly about the Francesca that she knew. The Down to earth, loving and caring person who was at home in the hightest court or on the dirtiest street. How she had seen Francesca speak with a homeless beggar before turning around and speaking to the highest Lords of the land. How she cracked a filthy joke while deftly avoiding the trap of breaking a young suitors heart by letting him down with kindness. And about how she wept for those less fortunate than themselves.

Then she spoke how this was a new dawn for Toussaint, about how this was a new dawn for the world, where the knights of Toussaint would take what they know and what they can do before showing the world what it means to be a knight.

I wish I had transcribed that speech. I have no doubt that someone has and if you have any kind of interest in Oratory, then you should get hold of a copy of that speech and read it. I think it's the kind of speech that is going to be studied for more than a few years to come.

But I wasn't paying that much attention to it, or rather, not that kind of attention to it. The spell of Toussaint had caught me up again and I was unashamedly along for the ride. I leapt to my feet and roared my approval along with every other man woman and child there.

It was late afternoon by the time we all came out of the stands. As the guests of honour, we were there for some time which was when I first heard the potentially mortifying news. I was told that I would always have a seat of honour for the winter tournament of Toussaint, now renamed the Tournament of Francesca. In theory this is a great honour. The thing that was slightly more off-putting was the suggestion that I was part of Toussaint culture now. There would always be a seat here for me. But not just for me, for Emma, Mark and Sam as well. It was emphasised for me many times. There would always be a seat here for me. Even after I had died, there would still be a seat for me here.

I wondered if that would mean that, along with Francesca, I too had a destiny of being some semi-mythical figure to the following generations of Toussaint citizens. Lady Syanna looked at me strangely.

“Destiny? Lord Frederick, you are already a figure of myth and legend to these people. You chased Jack through the streets, seduced the vampire and woke up Sleeping Beauty. I can go on if you wish.”

I don't think I like being a figure of legend. It sounds rather fatal to me.

So we finally escaped after making small talk with the Duchess and some of the other ladies in waiting. I met Sir Guillaume's wife for the first time there, Lady Vivienne de Tibris au Launfal. I might have got those titles the wrong way round though so please don't be too angry with me if I've got it wrong. The lady was charming, intelligent and everything that Sir Guillaume suggested that she might be. In every way that he is devoted to her, she is devoted to him and I have rarely seen a couple be truer in their love for each other. I can only hope that Ariadne and I can feel as deeply as the pair of them can after a year or two of marriage.

When I said this to Lady Vivienne she laughed and told me that she was sure of it.

“Why so sure?” I wondered.

“Would you like my answer based on observation or experience?” She said with a smile.

“Both.”

“Very well. My observation is that even when Lady Ariadne is apart from you, she never allows herself to be outside of being able to look over at you. This is not the kind of “keeping an eye” on someone that a domineering wife would have over a potentially errant husband. But more the fact that she likes to look at you. To make sure that you are safe, comfortable, happy and relaxed. When you are not these things, she will either approach you herself in order to put her arm round you and remind you of her presence, or she will send someone else if she is tied up. Your Witcher companion or either of your siblings if available. Failing that a servant will approach and offer you a drink at her behest. Or an ally will arrive to see to matters before she nods her satisfaction and either steers you over towards the company of friends or to something more diverting. Either that or she takes you over to safer harbour herself.”

“I see.” I felt warm and fuzzy by this observation as I'm sure you would too. “And experience?”

Lady Vivienne deftly comandeered a pair of drinks from a passing servant and handed me one of the delicate glasses. “My experience was different to hers. But I was no less a prisoner. He came and he loved me. He insisted upon rescuing me, even when I resisted his valour. I believed him to be just another petty knight who was shallow enough to be distracted by my appearance but also because the curse was all I knew and the possibility of happiness was frightening. I am well aware of how beautiful I am to the male gaze and I worked hard to not allow that to go to my head as a child. I thought I would just be a pretty bauble to him.

“But that was not the case.

“He saw that I was in distress and instead of seeing that as a barrier to overcome in order to conquer me, he saw it as something that he could help wth. He did all of the things that you are supposed to do as a knight to win a lady's heart. But when he found that I was cursed, he didn't stomp through the undergrowth in his armour with his charger and lance to slay the monster. He did that thing that you, Lord Dandilion and every Witcher I have ever met wants us to do. He hired a professional in order to help me. He genuinely cared, he loved me not the idea of me which was powerful.

“He would not allow me to remain cursed and he would not allow me to carry that burden alone. He saved me, despite personal danger to himself. He saved me and stood up to me, refusing to allow a situation where I could remain cursed, or a lesser version of what I have now, when he could have walked away. Indeed, arguably, he should have walked away, especially after I had shown him nothing but coldness. He stood up to me and he saved me despite myself. I owe him everything that I have now, everything. But those are not the reasons that I love him.

“I love him because any other man, or most men in Toussaint, would have held that over my head in order to leverage a marriage with me. Any other man would treat me as though I owed him something. Guillaume thinks that he owes me, that he does not deserve me. I intend to spend the rest of my life proving that he deserves as much of me as he can handle.”

“The situation is different.” I suggested.

“Yes it is. But not as much as you might think. You freed her in a much more literal sense than Guillaume freed me. You stood up to her, you stopped her from being foolish. You shocked her, you surprised her. She is nine hundred years old, when was the last time someone managed to do that do you think? That's a rhetorical question. You acted in a way that she did not expect, you treated her as an equal and then you cared about her and treated her as a person. You treated her for the person she is and you saw her for what she was going through. You... were honest with her. I think that many people, including you, would be surprised as to just how much of a difference that that can make.”

Lady Vivienne is a very wise woman I think, and Sir Guillaume is a very lucky man. She insisted that, at some point in the future, that Ariadne and I should dine with her and Guillaume as she hopes that the four of us can become friends.

I would like that too.

But after the opening ceremony we went back to our rooms as I, for one, felt the need for another hot bath. Something to chase the shivers and the discomfort away as well as the unpleasant feeling of having been on display for a long time to people that, very possibly, didn't like me very much.

That night there was another banquet which was the banquet of the opening of the tournament. A very prestigious affair that I was kind of dreading. I have been to these before but what it boils down to, in my experience which is not that considerable, but it tends to be a lot of over armoured big men with pretty women hanging off their arms. It does not help that I know exactly why I hate it as well and that reason is jealousy. Mostly of the historical kind.

I was never the handsome young man with the muscles and the shining hair that could wield the swords and wear the armour and still look handsome with it. I never had my choice of the girls that were attracted to those kinds of things which, to my jealous younger eyes, were always the prettier ones and I was always left in the corner, nursing my strong drink while glaring balefully at all the people that I hated and despised.

Now I am older, I should feel better about this kind of thing. I know that and you know that. I am marrying one of the great beauties of the world with the added little touch of spice that she is also one of the most terrifying and powerful women in the world. That night I would have another, undeniably beautiful woman in my bed although I confidently predicted that I would be far too tired, as well as with the lingering effects of illness, to do anything about it. I know that the majority of the girls that I used to lust after when I was younger would have driven me mad with boredom had I been forced to spend more than a few hours in their company. Let alone a marriage.

And I know that the skills of a knight are not the same as the skills of a fighter and a killer which, unfortunately for me, I now have. They are not the kinds of skills that lend themselves to shining hair, laughing eyes and sparkling armour. Nor are they the kinds of skills that have beautiful women hanging on your every word. They are the kinds of skills that make women like that scream and shriek while looking for someone to protect them.

I am aware that I am a lucky man and that I have become luckier as the time goes on. But I can remember a time between when I was sixteen and when I left Oxenfurt to go on the road that I would have traded everything I have to have been one of those young men with their golden armour and their winning smiles.

And sometimes, especially in those weak moments where I might have had a bit too much to drink, or I might be a bit tired or ill, then those feelings come rushing back in a flood.

And I hate it. Both because the feelings are still there and I hate myself for feeling them.

But, once again, I was there to be on show and play my part. So I put my best clothes on, as provided by the Duchess' own tailor, in the same way that those knights put on their suits of armour. I was grateful that the fashion for absurdly thin ceremonial swords had moved on so that I could wear a dagger in it's place. A dagger that I was much more comfortable in the use of and I stepped out to meet the family.

And instantly felt better.

Kerrass was wearing a new suit of armour that I had never seen him wear before. A blue tunic with a similarly blue hood. Small patches of chainmail covered those areas that are vital should they be cut. Thickened studded leather shoulder guards as well as criss-crossed belts that made up his sword harness. The belts also carried potion bottles as well as a large pouch that could contain reference materials should he need them.

Kerrass later admitted that the potion bottles mostly contained strong alcohol that he would drink instead of killing an idiot should it come up.

Bracers and vambraces of tough, brown, thickened leather as well as boots made of the same. The sword scabbards were made from the same shade of leather meaning that it must have all been dyed to match. He kept his own swords though. The cat snarling from the steel sword and the Wave-Serpent looking out from the silver one.

He pretended to hate the outfit, particularly the hood which he thought was a foolish affectation. He argued that no Witcher worth his swords would ever wear a hood when sneaking up on a monster. on the grounds that it limited his field of vision. So he pretended to hate it, but I rather think that he liked the new armour and could occasionally be seen to be checking himself in reflective surfaces.

But I wasn't looking at him when I emerged from my room.

Mark was wearing a set of his Cardinal's robes. Just shy of wearing his hat and his formal stole. Gold thread and ornamentation hung from every fold and the holy symbol of the Eternal Flame glittered in the firelight.

Mark hates these robes and these ones are not the original ones that he was given, nor are they the robes that he preaches in. These are the robes for when he is rubbing shoulders with royalty and nobility. Every precious gem is made from glass, the gold thread is actually yellow while the “gold” is just brass. The original robes had the jewels taken out and sold in order to give the money to the hospitals that house those victims of the churches former zeal. A fact which Mark takes great delight in informing everyone who annoys him.

This set of robes is even further tricked. When someone calls him out for perceived hypocrisy on his views about the church needing to give to the poor rather than keeping the wealth for themselves, are invited to choose whichever stone that they like and see if they can sell it. Which is when they find that it is glass and worth a couple of pennies each. But it enables him to rub shoulders with the highest in the land without seeming out of place.

He then goes on to say that he would be happy doing so in his ragged old cassock but the heads of the church objected to this idea. A fact that Mark finds funny.

But I wasn't looking at him either.

Emma and Laurelen stood together, grinning like fools. They were wearing matching dresses but of different colours. Laurelen has said, many times now, that she would be overjoyed to be allowed to wear Coulthard family colours in her outfit choices as she would love to be associated with Emma. But with one thing or another, there just wasn't room for that. So instead she settled for the same style. Which in these cases were a slightly more conservative cut of the Toussaint gowns of current fashion.

But cut to allow a lot of stocking'd leg if you know what I mean. It is as much as a little brother can admit to to say that Emma has nice legs so I can't really comment. All I can say is that Emma spends a good amount of time on horseback as that is still her favoured form of exercise. And I might be biased in saying it, but she has always been beautiful to my eyes. She was wearing a gown of deep red. I guessed that there was a statement there but I had no idea what it was.

Laurelen wore a similar dress, but in deep, forest green. There would be no doubting who was together with whom though. Of course Laurelen is beautiful. That is not the point.

But I wasn't looking at them either.

Instead, I only had eyes for one person. A person who's dress was just finishing being fussed over by Anne, who I guessed to be some kind of co-conspirator. I literally stumbled when I saw what Ariadne was wearing.

I'm not joking. The old thing about tripping over your own feet? I did that.

Much to everyone else's amusement. But I wasn't paying attention to them for that.

My mouth fell open and went dry. I felt my heart race and sweat stand out on my head as this vision walked towards me.

Ariadne had gone the other way. She was wearing black. Normally she prefers lighter, summer dresses of colour and flow. She enjoys the double takes when people expect the sinister vampire lady and find a happy, young looking, woman who laughs and jokes and rushes about to help people. A youthful looking lady that comments on how beautiful the weather is and regularly tips her face back to enjoy the warmth and the light of the sun. A young lady who skips into puddles in new rain fall. She does this mostly because she still, after all this time, glories in her freedom from confinement while enjoying the effect that it has on her critics as a happy side-effect.

But that was not the persona that she was wearing tonight.

Tonight she was wearing her Evil Queen Persona. She wore a tight fitting gown of the deepest black that the Duchess' dyemakers could manage. Made from a material that felt lightly furry to the touch, but what the material was, I am far too uncultured to guess at. Patterns of dark stones were sewn into the matterial so it seemed to shimmer as she moved. Ariadne needs no corsetry as I've said before. One of the benefits of use of magic and the type of species she was.

The dress was cut low, but not really. There was actually a panel of other fabric in the way so that you couldn't see anything. It was made out of the same stuff that covered her arms and as part of her skirts. It was a thin, sheer material that meant that it was easy to convince yourself that you could see something if you just looked hard enough and if she moved in just the right way and stood in the right light. But there was some disguising which meant that even if Ariadne wanted you to, you would never actually be able to see anything. There was also a high backed collar that came round the back of the dress, rigid and hard. The same kind of thing that you imagine when someone describes an evil Queen. It was impossibly sexy.

She wore makeup to. Subtle touches to emphasise cheekebones and her throat. But the main thing was the shadowing of her eyes which were shaded in darkness which served only to make her eyes stand out and....

Oh, I don't know what I'm talking about. There were other colours in that shadow too, Dark greens and purples that almost reminded me of a peacock's feathers.

Appropriate for Toussaint.

There were only two splashes of colour on her apart from her eyes. The first was a deep red choker, the same shade of red has her symbol of the Eternal Flame which was attached to the ribon. The other was a goldern circlet, which served two purposes to my eyes. The first was that it held her elaborate hair arrangement into place. The second was that it reminded all present that she used to be a Queen.

“Why Freddie.” She drawled, enjoying the reaction that she had produced. “I do think you are struck dumb.” I burbled something. Her voice was like silk and reached down into the depths of my soul and undid the bonds that held my fear and lust in check, so that both ripped through me like wildfire. The first silly thought that crossed my mind was to wonder who had taught her to talk like that.

She sashayed towards me, hips swaying and showing that hint of leg as she walked up, placed a gentle hand on my chest, over my heart and a wicked smile on her face. A smile that promised all kinds of …..

Yeah, I'm gonna stop there.

She came to a halt as the other people in the room, including family, Anne and Syanna as well as more than one of the knights of Francesca as well as Guillaume who had returned to duty after the opening ceremony, fell to whooping their enjoyment of the moment.

“Well?” She demanded.

Breath hissed between my teeth in a sigh.

“Goddess,” Kerrass joked, “but if I'd known that I could shut him up by dressing like that I would have bought myself a dress.”

“You don't have the figure for it.” Mark replied dryly.

“Oh I don't know.” Emma responded. “A bit of extra padding here and here and I think Kerrass would look very fetching in a dress.”

“He certainly has some well turned calves.” Laurelen added.

There was some more laugher and Ariadne's smile turned less predatory and more gentle. Thus releasing me.

Mostly.

“You...” I took a breath and tried again. “You look....”

She leant forward and gently kissed me. “I know that you are dreading tonight.” She told me. “And I know why. So for tonight, I want you to remember that I am yours and no-one elses. I love you and no-one else. You get to marry me, not some idiot who can only hold a lance. All eyes will be on us tonight and people will look at you with jealousy. Enjoy it.”

“I'm not sure I will like it. I do not enjoy making people jealous.”

“You might not. But in that moment, think of them as all the people that told you that they were better than you because they took up the sword instead of the quill. Because these people undoubtedly think that. And you get to marry me. You might enjoy that.”

“I love you.” I told her.

“I know. And I love you too.”

We stood for a while with our heads together.

“Will you....” I began. “One day, when we're alone. Will you...?”

She giggled delightedly before her eyes went hooded and she leant forward so that she could whisper in my ear. “Yes.” She purred into my ear. “One day, I will dress like this in the bed chamber. Only with far less modesty.”

I shivered, and not with the cold.

There was a short pause as we all waited for the call down to the great hall. Lady Syanna waiting next to the door in her own ball gown that was cut so that the skirts could be removed at speed and with a bodice that I have no doubt was armoured in several particularly important spots.

Anne took the opportunity to crack a joke. She walked up to Ariadne and I and shook her head as she looked at us. “You know what, if I had a woman like that, I would not settle for anything less. How am I supposed to take the place of this? I feel positively dowdy. How's a girl supposed to measure up to something like that?”

Ariadne laughed and threw her arms round the other woman. My understanding was that Anne had made several particularly interesting suggestions when it came to matters of hair style, makeup and style of dress. That Ariadne would have struggled to get it all together if weren't for Anne's help. I should have made a joke, I wish I had made a joke. But I was still struggling to get over the image of what Ariadne looked like. An image that is still seared into my brain.

Unfortunately though, no matter how hard Ariadne worked, I did not enjoy that evening. There were bits of it that I had a good time with, the food and drink was, of course, excellent throughout. I enjoyed the moment where I walked in with Ariadne on my arm, the looks of jealousy from all of the meat-heads who's jokes I had once been the butt of as well as the expressions on the girl's faces. I did feel a bit guilty afterwards and decided that we would only do this kind of thing occasionally when we both felt the need to make a point.

But that jealousy and, in a couple of faces, the raw hate that was levelled at us was not something that I could come to enjoy on a regular basis. Even though I could tell that that hatred was empty and lacked teeth. It was a petty hatred, the hatred of men who had wanted to dominate this space in order to give them advantages in the coming tournaments, only to learn that other people here, namely us, were playing on a different level.

I also enjoyed the dancing. As well as Ariadne, who pointedly refused offers to dance from every eligible young knight going while also encouraging me to dance with anyone who asked or suggested. I danced with Emma and Laurelen of course, but also Lady Syanna who turned out to be surprisingly graceful given all the weaponry that was hidden in her dress that I could feel when the dance required us to be closer. She was enjoying herself, it is an odd kind of person that enjoy's the hatred that is being levelled at them from all around, but she is one such, or she certainly appears to. Another person that Ariadne and I find ourselves determined to make her our friend.

I invited Lady Duberton to dance as she seemed a bit lonely given that her husband was still on duty before firmly steering her back to where our family was so that she could talk with Emma, Laurelen and everyone. I also was left feeling clumsy as Lady Vivienne invited me to dance. But that was nothing compared to when I shared a dance with the Duchess herself.

Truth be told, I danced a little too much given the fragile state of my health. But it was to either do that, or to have to put up with all the people that wanted to talk to me. I did my best to be gracious, but that was harder than it sounds. There were a number of conversations that I had with lots of people and they were always the same conversations. I could have almost written them out before hand and when someone started talking, I could have just handed them one of those cards where I answered every question that they had in advance.

“Yes, Ariadne looked particularly beautiful that evening. No, I did not think that her ensemble was inappropriate. Yes, that did meant hat I rather thought that she could wear what she liked. No, I did not think that she was showing up the Ladies of Toussaint. No, I'm sure that she meant no insult and nor do I.”

That was a popular one. Along with another favourite that I understand Emma and Mark had had to deal with for quite a while.

“Thank you for your condolences on the matter of our sister. Your well wishes are gratefully received. No, we have not learnt anything further. No, you are right, even if we had we would probably not be at liberty to discuss it. Yes, it really is a mystery as to what happened. Well thank you my Lord, if we think of anything that you can do to help, we will be sure to be in touch.”

But there was another conversation that I found myself party to that was particularly hard.

“Yes. Running through the woods in Northern Redania while sick with fear, blood loss, exhaustion, exposure and poisoning was desperately unpleasant. As was being tortured by a group of church knights. And no, it is not a lie or a falsehood that certain elements of the Nilfgaardian merchant navy had tried to run me, and the Empress, onto the rocks and kill us.

“Yes. An archer called Daniel really did make an impossible shot and save all of our lives. Yes, I would not be alive were it not for the skills of a common born, battle promoted knight and an Elven outcast. Nor would I be alive if it wasn't for the skills of a Skelligan pirate and his crew.

“No, the guest list for our wedding is rather exclusive, but beyond some personal guests, the invitation list is known only to my sister, the Empress and to the Imperial Master of Ceremonies. So no, I cannot add you to the guest list. Well, I'm sorry that you feel that way but I am sure that there is no need for.... I will thank you to keep your voice down and your tone civil or I'm afraid that.... Ok, I'm leaving now.... I would advise you to remove your hand sir before someone removes it for you.”

I'm only exaggerating slightly. That speech in particular was given on no less than six occasions. Each time, matters were prevented from going too far by the large knight who would reach over my shoulder and pluck the hand of the offending idiot away.

But it felt like I was being constantly assaulted by all of that. Constantly. Every time I had to tell the story about an old poacher standing on a hill and shooting into the sun, I felt the exhaustion and the fear in my limbs. I smelt the smoke and the poison on the air.

Every time I spoke about the death of the Wave-Serpent on the rocks of Ard Skellige, I shivered with the remembered cold and the pain of watching comrades and friends die.

I felt those things again, I lived those things again. Held in that time and in that place by the constant reassuring weight of Ariadne on my arm and her occasional soft voice in my head telling me that it was ok. That I had nothing to fear, that I was safe and that it would all be ok.

I would not have made it through that night if it wasn't for her. I would have fled from that place, probably screaming. As it was, I had to escape onto the balcony of the banquet hall for some fresh air on several different occasions, just to feel some cool air on my skin.

When I would return, the conversations would start again. But with the exciting addition that now, people would enquire, quite politely and with much care and attention, as to whether or not I was alright. I would be found a seat or something to sit on and handed a cup of something strong and alcoholic, often a form of brandy that went straight to my head, except when Ariadne could intercept it.

I remember very little of that night. Everyone tells me that I did very well considering everything that was thrown at me. Apparently I fielded accusations of weakness with humour and aplomb. I was calm when people criticised my actions over the course of my adventures displaying an ability to laugh at myself which seemed to upset many of the men present and made many of the women look thoughtful.

I handled the occasional efforts by various people to steal Ariadne away from me, less successfully though.

People were trying to goad me into a fight, there is no doubt about that. They wanted to show off their superiority in the only way that they knew how. Which might have been fine if I had been healthy, or if I was allowed to kill them. But as neither was the case, all that happened was that I would get more and more upset until, eventually, Ariadne would decide that she needed to intervene.

She won no friends in that regard as she soundly chastised the men in question. She asked whether they had so little opinion of her honour that, once given, her word that it could so easily be taken back. She declared that she loved me and that that was the end of it.

Then he would insult me, astonished that I could be considered more of a man than he, then she would insult him, then he would make the mistake of insulting her and then all kinds of things would be thrown around until once, very theatrically, Ariadne burst into tears and had to be consoled, by me, while Syanna and the knights of Francesca went in to deal with the matter while the Duchess got cross at the lack of hospitality being shown towards her guests.

But the problem with that was that I should have been the one to call the scoundral out. That I didn't, was yet another sign of my weakness to these people.

The Duchess was furious. Even though Ariadne was fine, didn't even mess up her make-up, turns out it was a signal that had been agreed on for people to get in the middle of things, which didn't make me feel any better.

But she had made it known that I was sick, recovering from injuries sustained against monsters and evil and now people were taking advantage of that to further their own ends. Her words.

So there were certainly parts of it that were fun. But the greater share of it was less than pleasant. When the entire thing was over we returned to our rooms where Emma, Syanna and Ariadne apologised to me for not telling me about the 'bursting into tears' signal. But by that point I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I had a little weep from the comedown of it all before Ariadne helped me into my rooms and left me to Anne's care.

Not a great night.

I was ill the following morning. Shakes, fever, sweating and the rest. Sir Walther was sent for and his eventual verdict was that I had taken on too much the previous day. He prescribed rest and I was confined to bed. Ariadne and Anne stayed with me to keep me company. I was feeling much better by evening and we ate with the Duchess informally again.

I recovered and so the following day was better. I went to a wine tasting held at Corvo Bianco, hosted by the gentleman that I had met who had invented the new wine from grapes from the vinyard. The one to be called “Francesca.” As I say, he was the Major Domo of the place, living in a cottage on the grounds. He was all but in charge while the vinyard owner “and his lady”... Lord Geralt and Lady Yennefer if you are wondering, were away. But also because his Lord and Lady had the grace, his words, to know that there were some things that they knew nothing about. One of which was the administering of a vinyard. So they left him to it and he was able to make the best wine that he could, financed by the proceeds of a Witcher's sword and a Sorceresses spells. We spent a pleasant morning sampling his blends.

Later, we all went to watch some contests at the tournament and went to a party that night.

And so the cycle continued.

It seemed that every days contest was followed by a ball, hosted by a different Lord, Lady, vinyard, guild and great house. There were even a couple of parties hosted by people in absentia. Most notably, I didn't get to meet Lady Orianna although I had been looking forward to meeting that famed patron of the arts. But I saw things and did things during that time in Toussaint, that I would never think that I would be able to under any other circumstances.

I was able to properly settle in and watch a full tournament, betting on the outcome and watching the contests. Astonished to find that my observations were valued and that people were watching where I was placing my money as, much to my dismay and Kerrass' delight, it turns out that I was right more often than I was wrong. So it became political as such things often did. I placed a considerable amount of money on Sir Guillaume for both tournament champion and the Champion of the Saint. Promising the proceeds to go to the coffers of the orphanage.

I watched the sword contest and the spear contest for a while as well, before it became obvious that what I was watching was as far from a real fight as it could be imagined. It was far more for show and spectacle than it was for anything else and I found that I did not enjoy this nearly as much as I did the lance jousts. The archery competition was something to see though. And again, I found that I could comment better on those contests than I would have thought possible.

I went with Mark to the temple of Saint Lebioda and had a good look at the statue there. The temple is a surprisingly small, very spiritual place that I found that I liked a lot. It was peaceful in that cave and it would not have surprised me to learn that the Prophet really did gain some kind of insight in that place. Some of those places throughout the continent that claim that the saint stayed there or rested his head there, or ate there are of, in my opinion, somwhat dubious truth. If the prophet really had spoken in all of those places and slept, eaten, preached, meditated and received enlightenment in all those caves, on all those hillsides and atop all of those mountains. If he had really done all of those things then he would still be doing them.

But I could really believe that he had spent some time there.

I helped Mark preach. It was exactly the same sermon that I have already recounted, the one about service to something other than yourself in order to make the world a better place. Except this time Mark didn't have any of his normal helpers, so I performed those parts instead. I have to admit that it was a lot of fun helping Mark to dress in his formal robes so that he could preach to the masses. It was a lot like helping Kerrass into his armour or helping him strap his swords on. That kind of thing.

I don't know how successful his preaching was though. I suspect that it went over the heads of a lot of the people present at the time. The knights of Saint Francesca approved though.

I did a whole bunch of visiting as well. I ate Clam chowder at the inn on the bridge which name I am currently forgetting, I wanna say that it was the cockeral. I can say that it was delicious though and you should definitely go and try some if you find yourself in Toussaint and feel the need for some fish soup.

It was all lovely and there was still more to see and do. I was reassured by Ariadne that we would need to wait in Toussaint for some time after the Tournament was over and the knights of Francesca had taken up their official duties. So I had no problems at all agreeing to visit for hunts, bouts of falconry, opportunities to dine and test some of the delicious wines that were available. I also wanted to see some of the other, more historically relelvent sites that Toussaint had to offer, now that I would have the time.

But in the mean time, there were jousts to watch, swordsmanship and spear contests to judge and archery to bet on.

And then there were the parties. If I wrote about everything that I saw and did during those few weeks then I would still be writing it for years to come. We laughed, we drank, we ate and we danced. We watched jugglers toss two handed swords to each other in sprialing patterns of impossibility. I saw archers fire arrows that sang, with ribbons attached to their fletchings so that they danced in the air. I saw kites made of paper and cane to resemble animals of myth and legend. I saw artists paint including one memorable gentleman who asked permission to paint Emma nude. At first she was scandalised by the idea but she came round to it under the persuasion of both the Duchess and, or all people, Laurelen. I heard poets sing and recount their verses and I stood in rapt awe of a choir of children who came together to sing something. I have no idea what it was as the words were indistinct. But the music itself was this flowing, haunting melody with harmonies that blended together to form a glorious whole. It was like a tapestry of sound, where each voice was a thread and each thread went together to form one glordious picture.

I saw a play that brought tears to my eyes depicting the final rescue of the Empress by Lord Geralt, a play that, apparently, Lord Geralt has banned from being performed in his presence on pain of his displeasure, which can be considerable. So the palyers take every opportunity to display it when he is elsewhere.

We did not stay for the piece of musical theatre that was written to depict the night of the long fangs though. I rather thought that it would make Ariadne uncomfortable so I pleaded off, even though I would have enjoyed seeing the artifice involved. But to Toussaint as a whole, the higher Vampire Dettlaff was a villain of the blackest sort and I rather suspected that he would not have been portrayed well by those people that would be taking part.

Syanna agreed as she was generally not portrayed too well in such things either, even when she deserved the unpleasantness that came of that. Ariadne thanked me for removing her from the situation. She would have sat through it for the sake of politics and to show that she was not affected by such things. But that would have been a lie. She was affected by these things and very nearly catestrophically insulted by them. Syanna promised to convey Ariadne's displeasure to the relevent people. Conferring later, we suspected that it was a calculated insult and it certainly seems that way with the benefit of hindsight.

But I will leave that to other judges.

But other than that blemish, Toussaint was putting on a show for us, misguided wellwishers not withstanding and that died off after that first night. When the knights in question were too busy either recovering from the previous days contests or preparing for the following days trials so I didn't have to deal with people coming to talk to me about this or that.

Truth be told, at one point I commented to Syanna that it was good of the people of Toussaint to put on such a show as they had. She laughed at me.

“Did I say something funny?” I wondered. I was becoming used to Syanna's humour now.

She nodded. “This is not a show. This is Toussaint.”

I stared at her in horror. “You mean it's like this all the time?”

She nodded, barely stifling her laughter.

“All the parties and tournaments and banquets and balls?”

She stopped bothering to hold in her giggling.

“Don't you get tired?” I finally wondered.

Then she shrugged. “This is Toussaint.” She said as though that explained everything.

It is a madness to live in Toussaint. I do not think that I could do it myself, but it was a magical time. The only blemish on it all being that I was still ill.

Mostly what that looked like was that I was exhausted and got tired easily. But there were other symptoms as well. Same as they ever were so I won't go over them again except briefly. People did their best to be sympathetic and understanding, but there was a problem with it all that they didn't really understand why I could look, sound and act normal at one point and then be in tears, shaking and sweating the next. They just could not understand it.

Not helped by the fact that neither could I. Ariadne would be quick to claim that it was a sickness of the mind which is all well and good, but not many people knew that. They understood injury and physical illness, and agreed that I had been through a lot. But in the vast majority of cases, people get better from those kinds of things and they couldn't understand why I was not.

Neither could I. Neither can I.

In the end we lied. We told them that it was essentially a head injury. Knights understand that kind of thing. Sir Walther also called it Helmet shock.

After a little while of this though, more than one person came up to me to tell me that they knew exactly what I was going through, that they sympathised and that they understood the lie. Thus making me more comfortable.

Lord Palmerin even took me aside once and told me that, although he could not fathom what I was going through, that I had his understanding and sympathy.... indeed, he said on that subject:

“No-one can ever know what you're going through. No-one. And anyone that claims that they can is wrong or lying to you. How can they know. They are not you, nor were they there at the time. I might have completely ignored what you went through, or it might have killed me. Just as you might have completely ignored what I went through, or it might have killed you. But no-one can ever say that they know what you're going through except on a clinical level. So if some well meaning idiot comes up to you, at a party or somewhere else, and looks you in the eyes all soulfully and tells you that they know what you're going through. Then punch them in the face.”

He actually got quite worked up about it.

But I digress.

He told me that he had had something similar happen to him. After the disaster of the Fish-market he had found that he could no longer stand the presence of fish. Not in his food, not near his food, not in his vicinity. He would go miles out of his way to avoid it where possible and otherwise cut through it quickly where impossible.

Because otherwise the smell, sight and taste of fish would take him back to that time and place and suddenly he was fighting for his life. He felt the rasp in his throat from where he was screaming for his fellows to stay out of the Witcher's way. He could smell the blood and see his friends and companions dying.

And that had just been for one night of horror. He told me that he could not comprehend what it would be like going through the year that I had had.

I felt... odd to be told that. I felt as though he had built me up and made me feel very small at the same time.

I asked him if I will ever get better.

“You will get better.” He said. “There will be good days and bad days. There will be days when you don't want to emerge from your bed. Then there will be other days when you spend the day in tears and sometimes it will switch between the two at a moments notice. But the truth is that it's not about curing the problem, it's about getting used to the problem. It's about managing the problem. About seeing it coming and moving, or acting to head it off before it becomes an issue. It is a fight. A constant one and that is why you are tired all the time and why you sometimes feels so helpless.

“The trick is to never give in. To keep fighting, no matter what. And may I say, just as I have found someone and something worth fighting for. So you have the same.” He looked pointedly at Ariadne.

His words were not really that comforting, but I felt better for them and I told him so.

Looking back now, all those days and nights seemed to merge into one for me. Days of splendour, colour, food and drink. Of laughing, dancing, shouting and speaking. But also weeping, sweating, shaking and a fatigue so tiring that I could barely lift my head from my pillow.

Everyone helped. Of course they did, but Anne proved invaluable. She was always there in the middle of the night. A heavy presence whispering me to wakefulness from a nightmare. Holding me close while my heart slowed and my breathing became regular. She would send me off to the day with a hug and a kiss in the morning and greet me with the same at night. She literally acted as Ariadne's partner in this, it was as though they had some kind of accord that they could communicate through in order to deal with it.

I made new friends during that time and, I'm afraid, I made new enemies as well. But other than with a few examples, I don't really want to give them the time.

I found Syanna's sharp and caustic wit refreshing. She was like the clear and sharp drink that cleans the cloying sweetness from the back of the throat after a desert. She and Ariadne got on well but I think it was her uncompromising acceptance of what she did wrong that was most appealing to me. She had done wrong. She felt that her actions were justified despite also acknowledging the wrongs that she had committed and would now own and live with those mistakes. She is one of the truest to herself people that I have ever met.

Sir Guillaume and his wife Lady Vivienne. I think that Ariadne and I might have found a pair of kindred spirits there. Lord Palmerin is a genial man that I had not expected to be able to make friends with. Lord and Lady Duberton are a sweet couple that I liked a great deal although his duties kept him away from a lot of the gatherings and her culturally enforced shyness meant that it was sometimes an effort of work to get her to say anything.

Captain De La Tour is a man of sly wit and a refreshing ability to admit it when he has made a mistake and even though I don't know him well, there are fewer men that I would rather count on than him.I could not tell whether or not he agreed with Commander Syanna on their future romantic destiny. As far as I could tell, he absolutely loathed the Knight Commander. Not without reason given their history together but at the same time, he had a respect for the efforts that she was putting in to establish the knights of Saint Francesca. So my feeling was that he was conflicted on the matter.

There were many others, too numerous to mention. I got to know the Duchess better and discovered a wicked, sharp, intelligent and most surprisingly, funny woman underneath. Headstrong to be sure and as stubborn as her sister. But it has been a long time since I laughed quite as loudly as I did when the Duchess was teasing another courtier.

Nor have I shivered quite as much as I did when she admonished the man that had tried to put on a production about the night of Long Fangs before another guest who was also a Vampire.

So that was something of the arena that had been set out when the day came for Sam to come south. But by no means all.

I volunteered to go down and pick him up from the transport circle. I have no idea why but it seemed to be the best fit. I was feeling pretty good that morning, having slept better the previous night. That didn't necessarily mean much in the greater scheme of things, but I did feel a little better. Emma didn't want to do it because she was concerned that no sooner had she gotten down there to meet him then the two of them would start arguing and that wasn't what any of us wanted. And we didn't want to go down there on mass as that would mean a grand procession of us, plus all of our escorts and that sort of thing gets noticed really quick.

But we also didn't want to just send a flunky to go and do it. That lacked the personal, well, familial touch to it all. So I said that I would go. I wanted to talk to him anyway and it would give me an opportunity to talk to him about what Kerrass had found in Angral, why it had been kept secret and out of all of us, I was the person least likely for him to get angry at. I would be able to better explain why we had kept it from him. If he got angry, which he might.

Emma said something unflattering on that subject. Something along the lines of the probability that he would almost certainly want to pick a fight. But I chastised her on that.

So I rose at the appointed hour, dressed, ate breakfast and went down to meet him. Emma, Mark and the rest were going off to tour some of the gardens and otherwise rest up for the big day tomorrow. My plan was simple, I rather thought that Sam would be a lot calmer if I could get some good Toussaint red wine into him first. So I would pick him up, then depending on exactly how late he was, I would take him into town for something to eat and drink where the press of the crowds would make us anonymous and therefore more likely to be able to speak undisturbed.