(Warning: Contains scenes of remembered miscarriage recounted to Freddie which is possibly a forced abortion.)

“Flame damn it all Kerrass, we are trying to help you here. Why won’t you tell us, even a small amount of what is going on?”

“Because I made a promise, Freddie.” He said between gritted teeth. “Several promises actually.”

“I know,” I told him. “One of those promises was to me. You promised me that you would never hide anything from me ever again.”

“Yes I did.” He snarled, his own anger rising. “Yes I did. I told you that I would never hide anything from you. And I meant it. But I made another promise and that promise was that I wouldn’t give any of this away. I promised it, Freddie. I promised it on my life and on what remains of my honour. I don’t have much left but I do have that so don’t you dare try and take it away from me. Don’t you dare do it Freddie.”

There was pain in his voice. Anger and much hurt.

“I loved her.” He went on. “It was only an affair, we both knew it. It would never last and we both knew that too. But she wanted me. She wanted me. Not some image of some noble line. Not some childish image of the man that rescued her. Not some gallant Knight to sweep her off her feet. She wanted me. It was only fleeting but she wanted me and now she’s dead. I didn’t kill her…”

“I know that…”

“Do you? Do you really? Goddess Freddie but I barely believe it myself. She was a good woman. A good woman that deserved better than what she got. She had the future that all young women in Toussaint dream of. She had wealth, land and ease while she had been swept off her feet by a handsome Knight, only for all of that to turn to ash in her mouth. She deserved better and I was trying to give it to her. Only for a moment, I was trying to give her something that she deserved and now she’s dead. She’s dead Freddie and I can’t bring her back. Nor can you. So the least I can do is honour my word to her.”

“But she is dead.” I snarled back at him. “She is dead Kerrass and I am trying to prevent more people from dying. She is dead, people are framing you for it and much though you might be enjoying playing at being the martyr. Some of us don’t want to see you hang.”

“I’m not going to hang.”

“Damn it Kerrass.”

“No I’m not. I’m not going to hang. Everyone knows I didn’t do it. Syanna told me as much. But if they don’t lock me up then the countryside is going to come for me. The countryside, the court and everyone in between. I’m not going to hang.”

“You’re a Witcher.” I told him.

“Thank you for finally noticing.”

“Fuck you Kerrass.” I snarled. “You’re a Witcher and therefore a convenient scapegoat. You taught me that, so why is now any different?”

“Because this is Toussaint. They know Witchers here. I am not some easily dismissable piece of chattel. I am a Witcher and here, that is something to be respected.”

“What is going on Kerrass? Tell me what is happening. What was your private matter that was so important for you to rush off for? What was written on the piece of paper that you kept taking out and looking at, brought to you by messenger no less? Why are you being so obstinate? Tell me, damn your eyes. This is going to get out of control and people are going to die because of it. Tell me what happened.”

“No.”

Things were not going well.

Unfortunately for everyone concerned, this situation was not new to me. I have sat outside Kerrass’ jail cell on a number of different occasions. Often, small, dank, filthy and smelly cells that occupy the same rough location as the local sewers do. Kerrass warned me that it was one of those occupational hazards where people, whether town authorities or local nobility, feel that they can throw the Witcher in a dungeon for the simplest of crimes. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time is a favourite. Also, for the crime of being a Witcher. By far the most common was for the crime of asking for a fair amount of money for the work that had been performed.

It honestly used to shame me that this would happen so often. That pain of arrest and imprisonment was used as a negotiating tactic. Where self-important people would arrest Kerrass on some kind of trumped up charge, throw him in the dungeon for a day or two before having him brought before their august personage, forced to kneel before being told that, in their magnanimity, the ruler will allow the Witcher to work off his debt to society by killing whatever creature, or lifting the curse, that was plaguing the locals.

Such an activity then led to a whole host of other crimes which are considered to be capital crimes by such people. Not least of which is the crime of being impertinent and asking questions that the personage doesn’t really want to answer.

This place was the opposite. The Dungeon was underground to be sure. But my guess was that it was in a repurposed wine cellar of some kind. It was well lit and well ventilated by the miracles of Elven engineering and the cell itself looked quite comfortable. I understood it to have been converted into a cell for the purposes of keeping political prisoners or, as wass the current case, to house a villain where keeping him somewhere else was impractical.

It was a similar place to where Lord Voorhis had thrown my family and I when they thought that Francesca’s disappearance was a prelude to an attack on the Empress.

Kerrass himself looked relatively civilised as prisoners go. Again, from past experience I might be led to expect a few bruises, a slight hissing of pain when he took a breath from one or two cracked ribs, maybe a little bit of a limp if he got up and moved around. It is my experience that there isn’t a guardsman in the Continent that can resist sticking the boot into the side of a Witcher. But Kerrass himself seemed to be fairly well treated. He was wearing a shirt and trousers and his feet were protected from the cold stone of the floor by a pair of soft, felt, bag like slippers. I knew that the rest of his clothes were in the anteroom having been thoroughly examined and that his weapons had been given, by me, to Ariadne’s keeping which was the safest place I could think of to put them.

All things being told, We had been in worse situations. But Kerrass was being stubborn.

I tried to come at it from a different angle.

“Kerrass.” I tried to keep my voice calm and reasonable. “You are being framed.”

“Yes I am.”

“By our enemies.”

“They are the kind of people that tend to set about framing you, so yes, that statement would follow.”

“Those enemies are trying to drive everything apart. Separate me from you and us from the Knight Commander.”

“Again, all of that makes sense.”

“So if that’s what they want, what we should want is to keep ourselves all together. We should become a unified effort against them. Does that make sense?”

“It does.” The small amount of amusement had left his voice.

“So why won’t you help me exonerate you? All you have to do to solve this is tell us where you went last night. We can investigate it. We can go there now. Sir Guillaume here will follow me when we go, can attest to whatever it is that we find and that can be the end of the issue.”

“Because I can’t Freddie.”

“Why not? And if you say that I’m just going to have to trust you I am going to get the guard to come over here and unlock your cell so that I can beat the crap out of you. I could probably do it too, given that I am wearing armour and you are not.”

“Freddie. You have rightly chastised me for keeping things from you in the past. It is awful to me that this is happening. But I promised her that I would not give anything away. I promised her that I would not betray her secrets. I will not do so, even now. Even if it means the ruin of our friendship.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Why is that more important?”

“Because it is.” He retorted.

“A childish answer.”

“Children answer that way because they don’t have the language to explain.” Kerrass responded. “Sometimes children lie because they have no other choice, or because they are preserving what little remains of their sanity, or their childish sense of right and wrong with the world. But if you push them, then often you find that they get to a point where they cannot go any further and, by the Goddess, you cannot push them any further.

“I swore you an oath Freddie. I absolutely meant it at the time. I swore her an oath as well and I would never have done so if I had thought for one moment that the two would come into conflict. But they have and now we have to live with that.”

“But the oaths are not even Kerrass. You swore to me first, you have known me longest, she was an affair where I would hope that I am a lifelong friend and last but by no means least… I am alive and she is not.”

That was a mistake.

His eyes flashed. “I wasn’t aware that there was a scoring system Freddie. But even if there was then I could very easily argue that an oath to a dead woman is more important than an oath to an alive man.

“But while we’re on the subject, let’s examine that shall we. No, sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. I am talking now Freddie. You have had your turn. You and I are not as close as we once were. I can feel it. I can sense us drifting apart. Part of the blame for that lies at my feet and I know it. I have started distancing myself from you as you and Ariadne get closer and closer. That’s supposed to happen. I expected that. I even did it wilfully. I will admit to not expecting it to hurt quite as much as it actually has but that sort of thing is only natural. You are my friend and I hope that that never changes. But you are also young, still painfully naive and utterly arrogant in your behaviour here.

“Since when has one oath had precedence over another because of time. If that’s ever been the case then I have never heard of it. But even then, when traitors give up on old causes and adopt new ones then it is the most recent cause that becomes dominant.

“And as for the fact that she was an affair. Yes she was. Yes she was, but when that’s all you get to have then that’s what you take with you. That’s what you enjoy in the time that you are given. I love the Princess Dorn. I admit it. That has never gone away. I want to protect her, hold her close and keep her safe in a way that is so tangible that I can almost taste it. I love her enough to know that letting her go is preferable to whatever she would become if we both allowed ourselves to give in to our feelings. And I agree, one day, sooner rather than later, she and I are going to have to come to some kind of arrangement.

“I love her and I want her but I can never have her. Even if we were to love each other, we would not have the lasting happiness that you and Ariadne are going to have. So whatever happens, heartbreak is in our future. She deserves better than that. She deserves someone that can grow old with her and give her children. I can do neither and yes I have told her that and yes she has responded that she should get to decide what she wants.

“But I would resent it. I would hate myself for not being able to give her those things. And I dread the day when I look into her eyes and I see the pain there when she suddenly says, maybe even on her death bed. When she says, “I wish I could have borne you a son.” On that day my heart will break and there will be nothing else I could do. She is a good enough person that she would see the fault as being with her when it is so clearly not.

“So I cannot have the woman I want. I can’t. For her own sake as well as my own. You forget how lucky you are Freddie. You and Guillaume both. You have found the loves of your life and there is nothing stopping you, either of you, from being with them and loving them with all your heart until the end of your days. I don’t get that luxury. I don’t get to do that.

“So yes, Lady Moineau was an affair. A fleeting piece of comfort that we found in each other’s arms. Where she could forget that her fairy-tale marriage was a sham. That a Knight had swept her off her feet before discarding her like so much roadside trash. Where she could forget that the women around her looked at her with pity and scorn for having to live with that sort of thing. An affair where I could forget, just for a moment, that my best friend was getting married and that I was losing him by the moment. Where I could forget that I love someone that I cannot have and where I could forget that I live in a world of darkness and sinister motives.

“Just for a while, we could both believe that the fairy-tales were true. That a beautiful lady could fall in love with a ragged Witcher on my part and there is someone out there that can rescue her for the lady. You have no idea what that was like. No idea what that was worth because neither of you, ever, have to worry about it.”

I was astonished by the bitterness in his voice.

“Don’t you dare apologise to me Freddie, don’t you do it.” He growled when he saw which way my head was going.

“I owe you more than I can easily say. And yes, the distance between the two of us is my fault as much as it is yours. I damaged and hurt you, I know it too. But you cannot equate yourself with her. You can’t do it. I will keep my promise to her as well because in doing so, it means that she can keep her own promise to another. I will preserve her honour as much as I can.”

The two of us stared at each other with the iron bars separating us.

“Give me something Kerrass, anything.”

He considered this for a while. “Lady Severine Gaumont.” He told me. “She was the friend that Kept my Lady’s confidences. Maybe she can show you the beginning of the path.”

I nodded. “I’m going to figure this out Kerrass.”

“I know. You are more than capable and…” He allowed himself a small smile. “I trained you well.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. I had no idea.”

“Yes you did. You just didn’t know how much it was affecting me. Oh, and by the way. Never fake a fit again. Whenever you do, it only means that the next time you, or anyone else is in genuine distress, everyone else will find it difficult to believe them.”

I nodded. Ariadne had chastised me the same way earlier that morning.

“I’m going to get you out of this Kerrass.”

“I know that too. And when you do, I’m going to find the bastard that killed her and I’m going to gut the bastard.”

Guillaume moved for the first time in a long while. Pushing himself away from the wall against which he had been leaning. “The Duchess will have her justice.”

“Then I shall swing the axe. Or pull the trapdoor lever, or whatever it is that the Duchess decrees. She deserved better than an ugly death at the hands of a madman.”

“They all did.” I said. “I will see you soon Kerrass.”

He grunted.

I turned and walked away. Retracing the steps that we had followed to come down here. We collected our weapons from the guardpost at the entry to the cells and walked a little way through the corridors until I stopped suddenly and kicked the wall a couple of times. Hard. Then I leant, face first against that patch of wall with my head resting on my forearm.

“The Duchess will need to have that patch of wall repaired.” Guillaume joked, a little awkwardly.

I ignored him, somewhere in the back of my head, a little voice was murmuring to me that I wasn’t taking this all very well.

I could hear Guillaume taking a deep breath. “I feel awkward saying this.” He began carefully. “But he’s…”

“I KNOW.” I bellowed at him.

Guillaume said nothing for a moment, “He’s right.” He said. “Yes it makes our life more awkward. But if he made a promise to a lover then that has more import than any oath that he might have sworn to you. Even a sword brother as you are. The fact that she is dead and it is an oath of secrecy makes it even more so.”

“I know that too.” I said, somewhat more quietly this time. “Flame, but I hate this sickness that Toussaint seems to be inflicted with. You all believe that chivalry is the best possible course of action and that it has precedence over every other form of behavioural code. You would follow it to the death, while all the time your enemies laugh as they know exactly how to use it against you.”

“Of course we do.” He told me. “Because the alternative is to be less than we are. Such a thing is… unthinkable.”

“Of course it is.” I told him, turning around. “I am sorry Guillaume. I have just been yelled at, not unfairly, for not being a good friend.”

He came and stood beside me.

“That is understandable. It happens. And I would argue your phrasing. It takes two people to divide a friendship. When I got married, I lost a couple of friends that I thought would be my brothers until the end of time. They were the men that encouraged me in my pursuit of Vivienne and they were cheering me on at every step. They drank with me during the night of my Stag party and stood next to me on the day of my wedding, even as I would have them stand next to me on the field of battle.

“But since I was married, we simply do not spend as much time with each other. And now that they are married, we will spend even less time with each other. Some of those friends I still see, and still others are people where we pick up the thread of conversation from where we left it, all that time ago. There are a couple, however, that when we do meet, we find that we have nothing to talk about other than reminiscing and thinking about old times through the rosy hue of nostalgia. And even then, I do not think that we are remembering the same events.”

“Was that meant to cheer me up?” I wondered.

“No.” He said. “It was meant to support you in the times to come. However, you and the Master Witcher have been through a lot together. Such friendships ebb and flow but they remain solid. I would guess that, even were you to utterly destroy that relationship, when one of you calls, the other will answer.”

“I hope so.” I admitted. “I really do.”

We stood in silence for a long moment. “Besides.” he began. “You have not considered the worst part about Chivalry.”

“And what’s that?”

“It’s contagious.” He told me with a smile. “Courtly love, a code of honour. All men want that. All men, and women for that matter, want to believe in that kind of thing. So when you all come here, you want what we have. You want to live the way that we live.”

“True. But on the other hand, it leads to situations like this.”

“It does.” He admitted. “But as I say, the alternative is unthinkable. We have debated long enough don’t you think? I find that I have a longing to hit something and do some damage to evildoers.”

I peered at him carefully. “Another of the problems with Toussaint is that I can never quite tell whether or not you are joking.”

“It’s tricky to say.” He admitted. “And to be fair, in most cases, it could go either way. So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” I pushed my hand through my hair. “No, I do know. We retrace Kerrass’ steps I suppose. I don’t suppose you know that Lady Gaumont do you?”

“I know her.” He admitted, looking unhappy. “I know her quite well. Well enough to not look forward to the coming conversation.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Quite the opposite. I would give anything to avoid such a conversation.”

“Can you introduce me to her?”

“I can.”

“Good, then you can tell me about her on the road.”

He nodded unhappily as we turned and began to head back out to the courtyard. There to summon our horses and find Guillaume’s squire.

It was still fairly early in the morning and the corridors were fairly quiet all things considered. A few servants bustling around doing the things that servants do. Sweeping, mopping, cleaning, carrying of dirty linen and returning with neatly folded clean linen. One footman in fancy clothing came past with a covered tray of something that smelled like breakfast. It all had the air of, intense, silent, organised chaos that I always associate with a well run servant hall. Where everyone knows what their jobs are and is keen to do them. It’s also a sign of a relatively happy servant hall which is almost as important.

But because of that we heard the shouting coming back from where we had picked up our weapons.

“Forgive me Lord Frederick but I must…” Guillaume said, beckoning me towards the noise. He calls me Lord Frederick when he’s thinking officially, one of those small pieces of mutual coding that you get if you work together for any kind of length of time, or know each other particularly well. In this case, he was in full “Knightly” mode and needed to see if there were any villainous miscreants that needed dealing with.

I mock, but only in fun.

“Of course.” I gestured for him to precede me, making sure that my belly knife was well situated. In these corridors my spear would be useless. Also, it would probably only be a hindrance to Guillaume or any of the people that he would be working with.

But I was not prepared for the sight that we found.

“I demand that you release the Witcher immediately.”

“The Witcher is imprisoned under the authority of…”

“I don’t give a DAMN what authority. I am a Knight Errant of the Ducal court and I request and require you to return the weapons to the Witcher and release him immediately and without delay.”

Guillaume and I exchanged glances. Not what we had expected to hear, certainly not from that voice.

We came round the corner to find Sir Alain, of all people, his handsome face distorted with anger and frustration as he bellowed his displeasure, standing nose to nose with a pair of the Palace guard. The Palace Guard fall under Damien’s jurisdiction and this pair were chosen for their utter lack of imagination as well as a certain grim outlook. They were the kinds of men that have their senses of humour forcibly removed at birth.

Sir Raoul lounged, languidly and at ease, against the nearby wall with his standard expression of faint amusement at the entire proceedings.

Guillaume wanted to go and intervene but I held him back, “I want to see this.” I told him and Guillaume nodded.

The guard sighed the world weary sigh of put upon guardsmen everywhere. “Unless you have a Ducal writ, signed by the Duchess’ own hand, countersigned by either the Knight Commander of the Knights Francesca, or the Captain of the Guard, then you cannot demand anything.”

The guard was bored, a little annoyed and my assessment was that he was enjoying thwarting the efforts of this jumped up little Knight and his friend. He knew that he had absolute authority to do whatever he liked here, as backed up by the guard next to him with sword and shield ready and the other behind him with the loaded crossbow in his hands along with another crossbow on the table next to him.

“I am a Knight Errant, a Baron of Toussaint by blood and force of arms. A huge and grave injustice has been committed against a man in your keeping and I demand that he be released immediately so that we can set about proving his innocence. I have all the authority I need to be able to take the Witcher with me and release him to the freedom that he has been so cruelly deprived of.”

“Well,” the guard looked as though he was running out of patience. “Well, just let me check with my Sergeant as to whether or not you even have the power to direct me where to take a shit. Sergeant?”

“He doesn’t.” Said the man with the crossbow.

“So unless you come back with the signed papers then I’m afraid you can jam your rank up your arse for all I care.”

“HOW DARE YOU?” Alain seemed genuinely upset and offended. “You cannot talk to me like that. That Witcher is innocent and…”

He was stopped by Raoul’s hand on his shoulder.

“Leave it.” Raoul said. “These fools do not have the choice. Leave them to their folly.”

Alain looked as though he was going to argue for a few moments, eyes blazing before he spun and stalked out. I led Guillaume towards the guard post as though we had not been standing out of sight and listening.

“Do not bother Lord Frederick.” Alain snarled with venom directed at the guard. “These fools will not listen. Not even to an honoured guest of the Duchess.” He stalked off with Raoul’s hand on his shoulder, the two of their heads together as they talked.

“What was that all about?” Guillaume wondered of the guard.

“Damned if I know.” The guard replied. “Gotta be honest though, I enjoyed making that pumped up, prick angry. He didn’t even try and get the countersign.”

“Because he wouldn’t get it.” I said as Raoul and Alain turned a corner and went out of sight. “I would give a small fortune to be a fly on the wall to hear what that pair are saying to each other right now.”

“He did seem rather convinced of Kerrass’ innocence.” Guillaume said. “If I didn’t know better I would suggest that he was genuinely believing the suggestion that Kerrass was innocent. There was genuine outrage in his voice.”

“There was.” I agreed. “But I think that there was also some fear there as well.” I considered it for a while before shrugging. “I get the feeling that this is one of those little mysteries that will be solved when we look back at it. We need more information and we won’t get it here.”

“Agreed.” Guillaume said, saluting the guards who were listening to the conversation without expression. “We should be on our way anyway.”

Guillaume had not needed that much persuasion to come and help me prove Kerrass’ innocence. So much so that I would even have been a little suspicious under different circumstances. But he told me that he absolutely understood my urge to go to the aid of my friend and that he applauded it. The subliminal signals that Syanna had sent me that this was precisely what she had wanted me to do had completely gone over his head.

There was some adjustment though. I wanted to treat him in the same way that I treated Kerrass when I worked with him. But there were differences. Kerrass likes to ride in front, with a certain amount of distance between the two of us, especially on the more remote roads where Monster attacks become more likely and more common.

Guillaume rode on my left hand side. This so that he could throw his shield up and into the way between me and any attacker that he might come across.

He rode a Warhorse of considerable size that dwarfed my own, relatively small mare. The huge beast had an air of deliberate menace. As though it placed it’s feet carefully and precisely while also wanting you to know that if it wanted to, it could just as easily place one of those giant, plate like hooves on your head and that it wouldn’t even notice as it pressed the full weight of it’s bulk down onto the top of your skull so that your head would burst like a grape. Like it’s master, it seemed to have the attitude of a being that doesn’t really have anything to prove. It knew that it was a giant, heavy, beast of war and that, much like an avalanche, once it started moving, it would not be stopped for anything.

Guillaume rode in his full armour, minus only his knightly boots. He wore a pair of riding boots instead with armoured front and back pieces that had needed strapping into place. He had read the story regarding William the Ram and he had laughed.

“I was not in Toussaint when he came to the tournaments. I was travelling with my wife on a diplomatic mission. But I heard of him. Young talent and would have gone far, but the assessment of others was that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself when he was off his horse.”

“That did seem, from my perspective at least, to have been what killed him.”

Guillaume shrugged. “We all have those moments in the early parts of our careers. The danger is that the armour and the horse and the training and all of that…” He stroked his chin. “There’s an old saying isn’t there? About bending before the storm in case you break. Something about Arrogance and hubris.”

“There is.”

“Well when you’ve trained all your life with the overly heavy training swords and the overly bulky and heavy armour. And then you put the real stuff on and spin the real sword around in arc, you feel as though you are the storm and that everyone had better fucking well bend before you.”

He laughed at some memory or another.

“So we think of ourselves as being invulnerable, raised on the stories of mighty and invulnerable Knights that solved all the issues of the world with a shining sword and bright lance, we think that the world is always like that. Knights charging under blue skies with the sun shining off the glittering lance points.

“Then one day, everything goes wrong. It rains, your horse slips a shoe, the armour doesn’t sit comfortably and you find yourself off your horse and nothing that you’ve been trained for, which is mostly for tournaments anyway, works in the face of a screaming peasant with a pitchfork who is more than happy to trade his life for yours. It is in that moment that we stop being a squire and start being a Knight. Oh, we might have been given the title of Knighthood, gone through the ceremonies and the vigils and the anointing. But we are not a Knight until we are off our horses, in the mud and surrounded by people who want to pry our armour open with daggers in order to get at the stuff that lies beneath. I did, and I learnt that day that although, yes, those boots do make balancing for the joust easier, they are utterly useless for fighting on foot.

“Your William the Ram had not yet learned his lesson.” He told me. “He thought that his armour made him invulnerable and that being on the back of his horse meant that he was all but protected from whatever Kerrass could throw at him. Unfortunately for him, he did not live to learn that lesson.”

“It sounds like an important lesson to learn.”

He turned in his saddle to speak to his squire. “You hear that Planchet? Lord Frederick says that it’s an important lesson.”

“I heard.”

I had been introduced to Guillaume’s squire that morning as we got ready to leave. I must admit, it would be nice to have someone around to do some of the chores. He was a young lad of about thirteen. He looked as though he might be given to being slightly overweight if he wasn’t careful, or that he would pack on the muscle at a rate that would be fairly intimidating. He was nobly born but hadn’t allowed that to go to his head. He had a good natured kind of, long suffering attitude about himself. As though he honestly believed that Sir Guillaume wouldn’t be able to wipe his own arse if he, his squire, wasn’t there to shout instructions. He hadn’t blinked when Guillaume gave him orders to get us ready to move out and had assembled our horses and supplies with commendable accuracy.

Apparently he was one of the younger cousins of another one of the Knights of Saint Francesca. Family members were not allowed to be the squires of relatives. And Sir Guillaume had a need for a squire and so… That was how it worked. Guillaume treated him with a happy kind of good natured teasing. Like a big brother almost while at the same time, insisting that Planchet brought his books with him. In the cases while I worked with them, the book was there so that he could be properly tested on his increased understanding of the tactics of General Coehoorn, with particular attention to how the general ensured that there was proper amounts of food and clean water available for his troops during the march North.

“What was your moment like that?” I wondered.

“Ah, you see… somewhat embarrassing. But I had two moments like that in relatively short succession. It would seem that I am uncommonly stupid.”

I laughed and wondered if Guillaume knew that he was disarming my worry and anger quite successfully. “You have to tell me the story after that.”

“It was during my pursuit of Lady Vivienne.” He said. “First I promised that I would kill the terrifying giant that had been plaguing the countryside. But then the giant hit me with a windmill and would have crushed me if it wasn’t for the presence of my uncle and a Witcher.”

He grinned at the memory.

“But so determined was I, that I ignored the injury that I sustained and the fact that my ears were still ringing so that I could go to the main tourney grounds and face a Shaalmaar. And that time, I got properly injured. Injured enough that it was clear that I would not compete in the tournament and win my ladies affections that way.”

“Stubborn was she?”

“Not as stubborn as I was.”

We rode a little bit further and I judged the moment right. “So… tell me about Lady Severine Gaumont.”

We had travelled out of Beauclair now and were heading upriver. The countryside was beautiful as we passed a series of windmills although saying that about the countryside of Toussaint is like saying that water is wet and fire will burn you.

Unless it’s the Eternal Fire of course in which case the fire is a warming, gentle caress that will guide you towards safety and spiritual fulfillment.

Guillaume took a deep breath to begin talking, paused, blew that breath out when he realised that he was holding it, then tried again.

“Did you have a group of friends when you were growing up?” He asked. “You know, the group of people that you trained with, socialised with and got up to your first mischief with.”

“No.” I said. “My father was not popular and as such, any attempt for any of his children to try and make friends outside the castle resulted in disaster and condescending natures. I did not really develop a friendship circle until I left home and went to Oxenfurt.”

He grunted and stared ahead at a fixed point. Presumably, that point where memory took over from practicality.

“There was a group of us, contemporaries that were born to the right parents at the right time. I have since seen much virtue outside the noble classes as you have from your writings but at the time, I was brought up into the belief that we deserved what we got because of how we were born. Our parents were all noble families and spent their time socialising with each other and staying in each other’s homes to hunt or do business. Or so that our mothers could gossip while our Knightly fathers were patrolling the countryside.

“The numbers varied, but we got up to all kinds of things. We defeated armies in the woods outside my Parent’s manor house. We forded little streams and made out that they were vast rivers. We hunted monsters…” He looked at me sideways and smirked. “Most often a rabbit or a fox or something. Once we nearly caught a peacock before he made us regret it.... But that was the way of things. In the realms of our imagination we were explorers in strange lands, taking our ways and our benign and charitable causes to the barbarians that lived there.”

“Temeria right?”

“Often Skellige.” He admitted. “My nanny in particular could tell hair raising tales of Skelligan pirates that used to keep me up at night with horrible nightmares.”

We both laughed.

“There were a lot of us at first before we started to splinter. Nothing sinister at first. Just young people being young people and needing to be educated. We all learnt different things from different tutors. The first major division was to separate boys from girls. Again, not for sinister reasons but because the girls needed to learn to dance and the boys needed to learn to fight.”

He snorted in amusement again.

“These are the bonds that are supposed to carry us through to our adulthood. Friendships that we share hardships and trials with. For the boys, it didn’t work. I have never been able to figure out why and the only friendship that I managed to keep and cultivate from that time was Crawthorne, and we all know how that turned out. One suggestion as to why that happened is that we are taught to compete from a very early age. With sword and lance, with deed and achievement. We are constantly pitted against each other and that competition is carried onto our adult lives. I bear as much guilt as any here. When you want to be the best, you need to be competitive and my friendship circle shifted in my later teenaged years to include those men that were not acting at my level.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“It is shifting again now, as our Knight Commander is forging a real brotherly… and sisterly I suppose, spirit of mutual support in the Knights of Francesca. I like that… But, I am getting off topic.

“The problems really started in our friendship circle when the children started to grow up and our parents started to choose spouses for each of us. Some sought political alliance outside of Toussaint and those friends left, often to never be seen again except to come back and visit with a new wife and a handful of children. But others of us were seeking spouses inside Toussaint.”

He considered for a while as we waved to some field workers.

“I have never wanted to be anything other than a Knight Errant and my parents soon learned that it was folly to try and get me to even consider travelling outside the Duchy, let alone to consider a different career. They could have arranged something but I would simply have refused to go and that would have been the end of it. There were a handful of us in that position, all within about five years of each other and there was a similar number of eligible women of the same age.”

He drifted off into the pit of memory again.

“You ever look back…” He began before seeming to reconsider. “Do you ever look back at a past time, where you remember a time of your life where it all seems so rosy to your memory. You look back and think… “That was a good time to be alive,” without being able to remember all the horror that happened at the time, all the angst and the recriminations and the hardships that went with it that, now, would be trivial but at the time seemed to be world ending.”

“I do. The early years of my University stay. After the newly won freedom wore off and things settled down. In that period where I was still trying to decide who I was beyond the books that I wanted to read and what I wanted to do with my time.”

“It was the same with me. Would it surprise you to learn that Sir Alain is only a little bit older than me? Matter of only a handful of years.”

“No, I don’t think I would be surprised.”

“Then would it surprise you to learn that he and I were once fairly close friends?”

“That would surprise me.”

“He was always better with the sword, whereas I was always better with the lance.” He stared at the spectre of memory for a bit longer.

“What brought about the change?”

He started out of his memory. “We all changed. I might have changed the most looking back. I would like to think that I have changed for the better but I look back and I am barely the same man that I was this time last year. Let alone from back then. Alain and Crawthorne were like brothers to me. They both had a couple of years on me but I remember the first time that I got drunk. I mean, really really drunk. Not the kind of rosy warm glow that we get at our father’s dinner table with the small cups of wine that we are allowed to flavour our water with. But the proper, puking, holding onto the ground so that the room stops spinning kind of drunk.”

“I remember the experience well.”

“Well, it was Alain that supplied the wine and later, it was Alain that took the responsibility for it all onto himself.” He sighed at the memory. “I do remember though that our dreams of what Knighthood would be like were very different. I dreamed of mighty deeds, enemies vanquished and service to the Duchy. He dreamed of rescuing fair maidens and kisses beneath apple blossoms.”

He lapsed into silence again.

“What happened?” I prompted, trying to get him moving again. There was a distinct feeling that if I wasn’t careful, I would lose him down the well of memory and not get him out. He didn’t want to talk about this so the normal trick of being silent and letting the other person fill the silence was not going to work.

“There was an opposing cabal of youth.” He said finally. “Sinister, alien creatures that we did not understand.”

“The girls.” I guessed.

“Exactly right. There were several of them, slightly fewer than there were boys and we competed for their affections rather fiercely. Sometimes too fiercely. All of them were beautiful, perfect, wonderful creatures.” He looked at me slyly. “I have never understood the attraction to the male of the species. I mean, I have no problem with it as that got me a wife and who a person shares a bed with is none of my business, but it honestly baffles me. I can relate to your sister quite well. Men are ugly, smelly, dirty, clumsy, stupid, rude, hairy and unpleasant. But women are graceful, smooth, clever, charming, strong and with a shape that is beautiful to behold. And so it was back then as well.

“The girls were growing into women and we were still struggling to get our limbs to move in the right directions at the right times. We were all awkward and gangly, covered in pimples and all the unpleasant airs of that point in time when boys begin to become men.

“The girls were led by two women who were born within a month or two of each other to mothers who were already firm friends. They were the leaders by virtue of being older than the rest by a few years and they had that peculiar form of… seemingly only female friendship, that they loved each other fiercely while also hating each other with a passion that was… terrifying.

“They competed for everything, who could produce the best embroidery, who could be the best dancer, the best musician. It went on and on. Then, as they grew older, they started to compete for the attentions of the boys. Who could get the most compliments from the prettiest boys, who could tease more who could flirt more and so on and so on. There wouldn’t be a day that went by where the pair of them wouldn’t have some kind of colossal fight before having equally as dramatic a make up and reconciliation. Those two women were Severine Gaumont and Amelie Mignard who you would know as the late Lady Moineau.”

I nodded to show that I followed.

“The two ran the cabal of girls with iron fists and Vivienne, who was at the younger end of that group, tells me that they were ruthless with their control. They were not unkind, but if anyone challenged their dominance, they could be cruel while promptly following up with acts of kindness that tied the errant girl to them even closer. Both of them were beauties. I mean you saw Amelie when she came with Alain to the ball, pale, blonde and shapely. The sort of woman that you want to hold carefully and gently.”

I nodded again.

“Severine is very different. She is tall, dark skinned and dark haired, very slim with dark hair. She had this way of looking at you in a way that made you feel really small. Both of them were beautiful you understand, but in very different ways.

“Alain was now growing into a handsome man. So handsome that our mothers and female servants took to describing him as a very pretty young man. He was not yet unpleasant with it, but he was certainly gaining in confidence. He would practice walking and moving around in his armour so that he could look as good as he did. He would often be found in his mother’s dressing chambers in order to make use of the mirrors there to make sure that his armour, or clothes, looked properly fetching on him. We teased him about it but he could still kick our asses on the practice field and I was only good enough to beat him at the lance so we couldn’t do much mocking to his face.

“But both women decided that they wanted this young and handsome Knight. We all grew up, grew older and it came to that period of life when our parents started trying to find us all people to marry. You know this too?”

“I do. I was a spectacular failure at the courting game.”

“Alain’s gifts with the sword and Lance were sufficient to win him renown as a Knight Errant. He spent most of his time at the tournaments and contests rather than hunting bandits or monsters. But back there and back then, this was a perfectly acceptable use of your time if you were a Knight Errant even if I thought that it was… rather lazy I suppose. He was his father’s heir and favourite so it was clear that he would inherit and be a Knight Errant, therefore, he needed a bride from Toussaint.

“At some point, Alain’s fantasising about rescuing maidens turned into fantasising about the joys of the bed chamber and he had started to become arrogant. I wanted to serve the Duchy, fighting bandits and monsters and the like where he was always at a contest. As a result, we had already begun to grow apart. Sheer lack of proximity would do that. I was arrogant myself, still am really, and we would meet up occasionally for some drinks, but even then I noticed the smiles that he would pay the barmaids, and the ladies that we passed in the street.

“I began to grow jealous of this kind of thing. Even though my heart had already been taken by Vivienne’s grief and sadness, there is still a certain part of a young man that longs for the attention of all the beautiful women.”

“I can relate.” I told him.

“So Alain made it clear that he would only be satisfied with the most beautiful women in Toussaint, and as a result, the most beautiful woman as his bride. So Severine and Amelie decided that they were going to have him. This is where our hero enters the tale.”

“Meaning you.”

“Meaning me. It was one of those situations that comes up when military men forge friendships on the battlefield. Severine’s father had once saved my father’s life and the favour had been returned later. A firm friendship was inevitable. They were ringbearers at each other’s weddings and they shared everything. My mother once joked that my father loved Severine’s father more than he loved her, which might have been ugly had she and Severine’s mother also forged a firm friendship.

“So the two men were desperate to move past friendship into being family. When Severine was born, my father was desperate for a son so that our two families could be joined by marriage and as soon as I was old enough, Severine having a few years on me, then the arrangements started to be made. There was a real period there were friends and family members would come and congratulate me for marrying one of the premier beauties of Toussaint.

“Unfortunately for our fathers, there were two problems. I had already fallen for Vivienne and She was determined to have Alain for her own.”

“Your parents must have loved that.”

“You have no idea. I was the luckier of the two I think, in that my Mother was understanding of my choice. Vivienne was closer to my own age, she was kinder, more gentle, obviously more beautiful in my eyes and I think that my mother decided that Vivienne would be good for me. She once said that I needed someone for whom I could be a hero.”

I decided that there was enough room here for a tangent.

“Why her?”

“It probably isn’t very polite of me to say, but she was always so sad, so even as a young boy, I made it my mission to make her laugh and as I grew older, I wanted to include her in things. Bring her into the circle. I wanted to see her dance, to laugh and enjoy herself. But all too often she was forced to stand aside and that broke my heart. It’s very Knightly of me. There was a maiden in need of rescuing and I was determined to rescue her, even though I didn’t know what she needed rescuing from. So determined that in the end, I allowed another to do the rescuing for me, even though I played a small part at the end.”

He smiled at the memory.

“But I was telling you of Severine and Amelie. Our fathers were determined to see us wed and in the meantime, Alain was playing hard to get with regards to the two women, while chasing every other skirt that he could get away with. Of the two though, he was moving towards Amelie as she was the more classic interpretation of beauty in Toussaint. Pale, golden haired, slightly smaller, shapely while Severine was tall, dark and severe.

“Severine became desperate. Something happened between the two women, Amelie and Severine although no-one really knows what it was. All that is known was that there was a huge row and that this time, Amelie walked away, swearing that she would never forgive Severine and for a while it seemed as though she was right. Alain finally convinced Amelie to marry him and the two were wed in the… then, most lavish wedding that Toussaint had seen and never have I seen either Alain or Amelie looking so happy. Severine was nowhere to be seen that day.

“After that of course, it all fell apart. It was less than a month before Alain was seen in the company of another woman, a peddler’s daughter from further South and Amelie started her long descent into misery.”

“What about Severine?”

“Severine spent a year or so descending into bitterness and anger. Our fathers insisted on pursuing a marriage contract but one night, Severine was over with her parents for dinner. Severine and I had been walking in the garden with one of Severine’s maids as chaperone. We were civil to each other but Severine was angry, sniping at the old woman that was watching us, snapping at the servants that were there and haranguing the garden workers.

“That night, my mother spoke to my father at length and I never heard anything about a marriage contract again. I will admit to being relieved. For all of her beauty, Severine was… We had little in common and she was… well… boring I suppose is the right term although it is more unkind than I would like it to be. She enjoys things that I do not. She likes gossip and drama. She keeps lengthy correspondances and gossiping about friends to other people. Playing the small politics of social circles.

“Vivienne is exciting. Far more intelligent than I am to the point where I wonder what she sees in me. She is witty, clever, charming and she cares about Toussaint. Severine, at the time at least, I have no idea how she behaves now. But at the time, she was only really out for herself.”

“What happened to her?”

“She never found a proper suitor.”

“Why not? If she is as lovely and eligible as you suggest? Surely someone would be found.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “There are rumours.”

“What rumours?”

“I don’t like to speculate. Nor do I enjoy listening to gossip. Severine was a good woman once, just angry and bitter. But she fell out with her parents, and went to live in one of the Villa’s on her father’s land. We still speak when I pass and she seems much calmer now. I have asked her and she tells me that she enjoys the spinster life. Amelie and she made friends again a couple of years after Amelie’s marriage to Alain and that’s that.”

“What are the rumours?”

“It is not the place of a Knight of Saint Francesca to spread salacious rumours.”

I laughed at him. “Guillaume. One of the things I remember about my sister Francesca was that she was an insatiable gossip. The more salacious the rumour, the better.”

His mouth fell open in horror and I could not help but laugh at him.

“Rumours are the lifeblood of such things.” I told him. “And sometimes, rumours can turn out to be true.”

“They can.” He admitted, “But at the same time, it is not my place to spread things around that are probably untrue.”

I had the sense that my new companion would not allow himself to be drawn any further out on this particular conversation and so resolved to let him be.

We were following a track along the river and conversation became impossible as the track became narrow enough that we could not ride next to each other. Guillaume went in front and I followed along beside. The borders of the track were overgrown and unkempt in the winter air and I could easily imagine them bursting into a riot of colour come the springtime. What colour there was was provided by snowdrops that drooped from their stems. They seemed to be a variety that were not to be found in the North, either that or I had simply never seen them. The very tips of the white petals seemed to be coloured a light blue and I snagged a flower in order to present it to Ariadne later. Then I snagged another as an afterthought to give to Anne.

We reached the top of a rise and the slope plateaued out before we could see it rising again in the distance towards the mountain. The small river tributary gurgled on one side of the flat area and although I did not have a drink from the water, I had no doubt that it would be icy cold. The road continued on over the plateau and back down the hill off to one side but there was a branching pathway that led off along the river which Guillaume took. Ahead of us the hills sloped up into the mountains with the countryside turning wilder and more tree-covered but we were not going that far.

There was a smallish manor house with a water wheel sticking into the water. It was a nice looking building, well built with green climbing plants up the side of it. There were a couple of other cottages attached which I took to be servants dwellings of one kind or another as well as several old sheds that would house tools of some kind. As we approached, there was a large bearded man chopping wood with the long easy strokes that spoke of much practice. A couple of small children were tormenting a cat that betrayed all the signs of just wanting to be left alone, but had resolved to put up with the cuddles and the kisses that come with being fed the occasional piece of fish.

Guillaume led us to the manor house and gestured that we should tie our horses to the post that seemed set there for this purpose next to a large pile of hay. Guillaume’s squire was ordered to “Find a way to make yourself useful” and slunk off to the wood chopper as Guillaume led me to the front door in the same way as a man would march to his own hanging.

It really was a nice place, the sort of place that I imagined that I could retreat to quite happily if it came down to it. Finding myself somewhere quiet to sit, read and think. Plant pots under the windows were currently empty with the season but there was smoke coming from the chimney.

Guillaume knocked on the door. There was a long pause and he tried again before the door was opened by a woman that I took to be Lady Gaumont.

She was tall, easily as tall as I am, and she had long dark hair that fell in the kind of artless wavy weight down her back and over her shoulders that betrayed much work and concentration to get it to hang just like that. She was dark eyed and dark, olive skin that was only broken by a beauty mark on her right cheek. It was a strong face with a cleft in the chin and cheekbones that could cut glass along with a slightly pointed nose. All of which conspired to make her appear hard and unyielding.

She was wearing a black dress, which did not help the image. It was severe, thick for the season and showed off a thin frame. She had a shawl wrapped around herself that she held tightly and her eyes were red with tears. I got the impression of a woman that, under any other circumstances, would be considered a beauty but the grief that stood out in her eyes robbed her of that.

She saw who it was and her eyes flashed as she slapped Guillaume across the face.

“You would come now wouldn’t you.” She told him in a voice caught between a snarl and a sob. “You would come now after she’s already dead. Where were you Guy? (she pronounced it “Geey”) Where were you? You were supposed to be her protector, you were supposed to be our protector.”

The rage left her and she stepped in and hugged the clearly astonished Guillaume before sobbing. Awkwardly, his arms came up and he hugged the weeping woman back.

Then her mood changed again as she pulled back and furiously dabbed at her eyes with a cloth that she pulled from one of her sleeves. “Who’s this?” She wondered looking at me.

“Lady Severine Gaumont… It is my honour and…”

“Cut the nonsense Guy,” She said, looking me up and down. “We have known each other far too long to be hung up on such nonsense and I am far too upset to expect it. If he is offended then he can leave.”

“I am far from offended Ma’am.” I told her, bowing. “I am Frederick von Coulthard.”

“Kerrass’ friend.” She said. “The one that made him famous.”

“If you like.”

“I wonder if I should slap you as well.” She sniffed. “You are engaged?”

“I am.”

“And happy with it?”

“I am.”

“A pity, otherwise I could imagine myself moving north.”

“I have an elder brother.” I told her. “He is unmarried and will shortly inherit our family’s lands, wealth and title.”

“Interesting. What is his name?”

“Samuel von Coulthard.”

She snapped her fingers in recognition. “No, I have met the gentleman and the two of us did not take to each other. There was something about him that did not sit well with me.”

She considered the pair of us again. “Well, you’d better come in. It’s either that or send you off again. I have tea brewing.”

She turned and led us back inside where we were ordered to leave our weapons and boots by the door and were made to sit in comfortable chairs by the fire. I took the precaution of leaving my cloak there as well as the lady bustled about, putting a kettle of water over the fire to heat up and adding some more dried leaves to the pot.

“I have some cakes somewhere.” She said. “Some date scones if that’s your fancy?”

‘I am not hungry,” said an obviously uncomfortable Guillaume.

“I would love a scone.” I said with a smile at her. Some of Kerrass’ long standing advice echoing in my ears. “Always accept the offer of food.” He would tell me. “Even if it’s a gruel so watery that it might as well be mucky water, take the food and look grateful.”

She produced the cake and a small pot of butter and some black-current preserve that was a little too tart for my taste but I suffered through it manfully.

“You will have to forgive Guy.” The lady told me. “Has he told you that he and I were very nearly married?”

“He has.”

“Did he tell you why he didn’t?” She smirked evilly at the squirming Knight.

“He seemed to think that there was a breakdown in negotiations between your father and his. That neither of you were too upset by this on the grounds that you were both in love with another person anyway so…”

“Mostly correct. But I always thought that it was largely because he was afraid of me.”

“You are a fairly intimidating woman.”

She lost her train of banter about halfway through my joking retort though and sunk into staring into the flames. A tear rolled down her cheek before she realised what was happening and wiped her face. “Tea.” She declared and poured water into the pot that I lifted the lid for her. There was another, short, period of bustling as she found cups, cream and honey for the brew.”

“Severine.” Guillaume tried. “Do you not have ser…”

“They have all been sent home.” She told him from where she was looking for a teaspoon in the drawers of a cabinet. “The vigilance committees have come round and insisted that all the girls are to go home. The truth is that they were all so scared anyway that they were tripping over themselves. I like to do it anyway. The groundskeeper and his wife are bringing me some pots of stew from their fire every night.”

“Are you not lonely?” I wondered.

She gazed at me flatly for a while. “If I was troubled by loneliness, then I would have gone mad a long time ago. True friends are hard to come by and most will set you aside the moment that doing so becomes more convenient for them than maintaining…”

“Uncalled for.” Guillaume seemed hurt. “You set us aside.”

“And you never visited.” She snapped.

“And you never wrote.” He growled as I began to see why the two of them might have been considered compatible by parents, but also why the two of them might want to avoid it. We all know the kind of couple that will be at each other’s throats one second and kissing passionately the next. They seemed to have this ability to get under each other’s skin.

“Interesting though it is going over Guillaume’s childhood.” I began.

“You have come to talk about Amy.” She said. “Have you hanged the bastard yet?”

“Who?”

“Alain of course… She was terrified of him.”

She stared at the pair of us, as I knew that my mouth had fallen open.

“We are here in an effort to…” Guillaume began. “Witcher Kerrass has been arrested for the murder and we came here in an effort to see if you could tell us something that might clear his name.”

“Kerrass?” She snorted. “Kerrass would never kill Amy. He adored her. There was a while there where I thought she was going to run away with him when you inevitably leave Toussaint.”

“Forgive me…” I began carefully. “But I was under a couple of impressions. Please, I apologise for being blunt. But…”

“Spit it out.” She snapped at me.

“I was aware that Lady Moineau and her husband were not close but fear? Also, Kerrass has left me with the impression that their..?” I looked at Guillaume helplessly.

“Affair?” Suggested Severine. “They were sleeping together Fred. I put Amy in the room furthest away from my own as I always do whenever she comes here to stay as she only comes here when she’s got some man on the hook. And even then, I could still hear them. Kept me awake all night.” She said that last with a certain amount of relish.

“Yes, their… affair. Kerrass believed that it wasn’t too serious. A fleeting moment, that they both hung onto fiercely despite both of them knowing that it would never last.”

“Yes, that would be the kind of thing he would say. Soul of a poet that one.”

She sunk into melancholy again. “Ah, but Amy was lucky she saw him first. I would have quite liked a little…”

She shook herself “Anyway, Kerrass would never kill Amy. It was Alain.” She spat the name. “May his manhood wither into a blackened husk before falling off due to the amount of self-pleasuring he does.”

Guillaume cleared his throat in discomfort.

“You are sure it was Alain?” He said. “Did you see it? Do you have any… proof? Because if you do, I have to act on it, you know that.”

Severine looked unhappy. “No, I don’t have any proof. Other than the fact that he is a snake, a liar and a cad.”

If I am any judge, there was genuine hurt and pain in her voice.

“Then why are you so sure?” I wondered. “Kerrass told us to come here. He told us that you would lead us on a path towards knowing what he knew. He was sworn to secrecy about something but that secret might see him hanged yet. Do you want that?”

“No, I don’t want that. Do not be foolish. I thought you were a clever man.”

“Clever enough to be stupid sometimes.” I told her. “So enlighten me. What was happening here? Kerrass told me it was just a little liaison. Tell me what happened and why are you so sure that it was Alain that did it?”

Lady Gaumont sat and stared into her little hearth for a long while, the small flames guttering around inside the small logs of wood as they slowly turned to ash. She looked as though she was aging before my very eyes, becoming pale and drawn.

“She was afraid. Amy I mean. She was scared for her life. I asked her why many times and she never told me.” She spoke in a whisper, as though she were fearful that to speak aloud would make the matter true. “You are right. Her affair with Kerrass was just that. A small romantic liaison that gave her comfort in the nightmare that her marriage had become. Not the first either.”

There was a pause. “Oh Guy, she was so scared. Scared enough that she shook. I pleaded with her, I begged her to tell me what was happening and she wouldn’t say. I told her to tell Kerrass. If anyone could help her then he could. Of all people he would be able to help her. And he cared, he really did. It wasn’t love, I know that. I think he loved her in his own way but he wasn’t in love with her. He would have protected her, he would have taken her away.”

She sobbed, real tears coming down her cheeks again.

“I tried Guy. I really tried. I tried to save her. I tried to get her to run, to flee but she wouldn’t have it. Oh Prophet’s but her face when the guards came to take her away. She knew then.” She sobbed. “She knew. She knew and she said nothing. She did nothing. But she hugged me farewell, she thanked me for all my help and all my love and then she said goodbye.”

She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

“Oh Prophets. I killed her, as much as anyone, I killed her. I should have sent her away. I should have summoned a guard, a Knight, someone who had the authority to demand that she tell them what was going on. But I didn’t and now she’s gone. My only real friend and she’s gone.”

As she wailed that last, Guillaume had finally had enough. He was up, out of his chair and wrapped the woman in his arms.

“You didn’t kill her.” He told her as she clung to him in the same way that a drowning woman might cling onto a piece of wood. “You didn’t kill her, the bastard that wielded the knife killed her.” He caught my eye and jerked his head towards the door. I took the hint and made a discreet exit.

I stood in the open air, stamped my feet and rubbed my hands together for warmth, it was going to be a cold day

The woodcutter brought me a cup of hot chicken soup and a hunk of bread. He just brought it over “You look like a man who needs something hot.” He said, amiably before wandering back to his wood pile.

“Hang on,” I said, taking a sip of the tasty liquid. “What’s the story here?”

“Story?”

“Yeah. What kind of place is this?”

He held up his hand in the universal gesture to wait. He wandered off to his cottage and came back with another cup of soup and a shout to his wife that he was speaking to one of the visitors.

He didn’t have that much to say. The house was part of a small estate that Lady Gaumont’s father had won in a card game of some kind. She had come here a few years ago and so he and his wife had gone from being general kinds of caretakers more towards being groundskeepers and gamekeepers.

Lady Gaumont had arrived with her own maid and cook and so they had found their responsibilities somewhat reduced. They didn’t mind. They were still getting the same old stipend for keeping the waterwheel going. A miller came during the winter to keep the waterwheel moving and occasionally, get some flour ground.

I asked about other visitors and he told me that the only visitors that were easily depended on were Lady Gaumont’s mother who would come to check on her daughter. An elder brother and sister would come occasionally during hunting season but Lady Moineau was the most regular visitor.

“It were kind of funny actually.” He said. “She comes every so often, stayin’ for weeks at a time. The two fight like cats and dogs but always weep when they have to be parted.”

“Does she come by herself?”

“Yeah, although she don’t stay by herself if you take my meaning m’lord.”

“I do not.”

He scratched at his beard. “Well, there are always handsome young fellas coming by to see her if you take my meaning. Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s tragic.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah, there were a young bard once, few year ago. Stood beneath her window singin’ up to her. Got annoying in the early hours of the morning as the man couldn’t keep a note.” He chuckled. “She were more tuneful than he was after she let ‘im into her room if you take my meaning.”

I did.

“Then there were a couple of others where there was weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, the kind of behaviour that I had when I were first looking at the ladies if you take my meaning. Back when the world would end if I could not be with the woman of my dreams. All “Woe is me” kind of thing.”

He theatrically put the back of his hand to his face and pretended to swoon. I grinned in appreciation at his antics.

“I remember the time well.” I told him.

“I liked her most recent one though. The Witcher. He seemed a much more professional type to me. He knew what it was about. Knew what was going on and decided that he was going to enjoy ‘imsel’ while he were here. Knew enough to be discreet anyway.”

“He told me that there was a contract in the local area.”

“Yeah, not a real one though. Paid a pittance. There’s a rumour that a woman was killed over in the gully over yonder.” He waved his hand vaguely. “And there is a reward for driving off her ghost. Pointless really. I’ve never seen her, nor has me wife.” He sniffed. “I reckon it’s the kind of ghost story that you tell to frighten kiddies and intimidate stupid people.”

We had finished our soup and set the cups aside. He produced a clay pipe and offered me some tobacco from his pouch.

“Thankee by the way.”

“What for?”

Well, for two things. One, for giving me a good excuse to skive off. But the other is for taking this all seriously.”

I grinned. “For the first thing… You’re welcome. For the other… What do you mean?”

“Well, Lady Amelie, she didn’t like being called Lady Moineau when she were ‘ere. She were a good sort. Didn’t condescend, didn’t talk down if you take my meaning. Some folk wi’ her kind of looks seem to think that the continent owes ‘em sommet. She always said please and thankyou. I might not have approved of how often she betrayed her husband, nor did I think she had the best taste either. But she were good people, you can just tell after a while.”

“What happened the day they came to take her away?”

“Not much. ‘Alf a dozen guardsmen turned up in the colours of her cloak and riding livery. They went in, I found ‘em fodder and water for horses and then they left with Lady Amelie in tow. She didn’t look ‘appy but then, she never does when she ‘as to go ‘ome.”

“Were there any other visitors over the last few days?”

“Nope.” He said, looking at me. “Not a one.”

“Just Kerrass.”

“Yep. Saw ‘im ride up.”

“When?”

“Night after she left. Immediately after.” He checked back to look at the house. “‘er ladyship made a pass at ‘im that I’m not sure I could have resisted.” He sniffed, “but he stayed for some tea and a gossip before he left a bit later.”

“Did her ladyship succeed in seducing him?”

“Not for my money, looking at how upset she was afterwards if you follow me. Doesn’t have as much luck with the men as Lady Amilie does.”

“Why?”

“Got some sharp edges that one. She hates with a passion and her mood shifts on a knife-edge. A fella wouldn’t know if he were comin’ or goin’. And I didn’t mean that in a filthy way. But I like to know where I stand, especially with a lady.”

“I’ve known a couple of women like that.”

“So’ve I. Course, I were much younger back then.” He grinned. “Me wife’s cousin is like that. Always complaining that they couldn’t land a fella while in the same breath saying that they refuse to compromise themselves for a man. Me wife always laughs at ‘er and says “For the right man, you will not notice that you’ve compromised.”

“Wise woman, your wife.”

“I think so, but then again, she married me so how wise can she be really?”

“I say the same thing about the woman that I’m marrying.”

He grinned. “Don’t fight it. That feeling never goes away, you just go along for the ride and enjoy it until she comes to her senses. Then one day, you realise that you’re both old.”

He cackled.

“You said that Kerrass was here last night too. The night that Lady Amelie died?”

“Yeah. Came in the early evening in a rush. Just threw his reins over the post and went into the cottage. Just as it were starting to get dark.”

I nodded, that would track for when Kerrass left on his personal errand.

“He were in the house for a little under an hour before he left at the gallop. Heading off in the direction that Lady Moineau lives. I nearly yelled for ‘im to watch his step. Men die when they ride that fast in the dark but then I figured… He a Witcher i’nt he.”

“He is.”

Guillaume came out of the house and beckoned me over.

“Sir?” The wood cutter asked. “Your Witcher friend did not kill Lady Amelie. I can see him killing in cold blood. But he didn’t do this one.”

“I know.”

“You gonna write that in one of your fancy books?”

I answered his grin with one of his own.

“You know who I am then?”

“Course. Wife’s a big fan. She uses your books to try and teach me to read.”

“I am so sorry.”

“It’s not that bad. I humour her because it gets our kid to learn as well.”

I laughed. “Thanks for the soup. It was delicious.”

“I will tell the wife. She’ll be delighted.”

I chuckled and returned to where Guillaume was standing. He was… I don’t know what he was, but he wasn’t happy.

“She will speak to you now.” he told me, staring at a point a little over my shoulder.

“She made a pass at you didn’t she.” I guessed.

He said nothing but I saw my point hit home.

“Be gentle with her Lord Frederick.” He said formally. “Or you will answer to me.”

I felt my eyes narrow. “I don’t need threats, Guillaume.”

“I know. I apologise. She always stirs up some unpleasant thoughts in me and I am not myself.”

“It’s alright. I have people like that in my life too.”

“She is grieving. Be gentle, please. I will wait out here.”

“I suspect that the trail will lead us to the Moineau estates when we leave here unless Lady Gaumont can tell us something else.”

He nodded. “I will make sure that we are prepared, but it is unlikely that we will be allowed onto the lands.”

I nodded and went to go into the house.

Lady Gaumont was sitting in the same seat as before. She was leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, staring into the fire.

“More tea?” She wondered.

“Yes please, but I can make it.”

“I am the hostess.” She protested.

“Yes, but I am the visitor.” I countered.

She frowned. “I do not follow.”

I smiled, “Let me make the tea.”

She nodded and I set about the task.

“You have questions.” She said after a moment.

“If Kerrass told you anything about me. He will have told you that I always have questions.”

“He did mention.” She sighed and rubbed at her head. “I have lost my best friend in all of Toussaint which means that I have lost my best friend in the entire continent, which is essentially the world. And looking for comfort, I have just driven off the man that I thought I was too good for when I was younger, and is now too good for me.”

The tears fell down her face.

“So you’ll forgive me if I admit that I don’t know where to start.”

“It’s a long standing joke in my profession.” I told her as I struggled to remember where the honey was. “That you generally start at the beginning and work your way through until you reach the end.”

She laughed, her mood changing, as the wood cutter warned, on the Knife edge. “My tutor would be proud of me as I ask “But where does anything really begin”?”

I grinned in answer. “In this case? Why do you hate Alain, I mean… I’ve met him and I don’t like him. But you hate him more than that. You hate him personally rather than in general. What is the relationship between you and Lady Moineau,,,?”

“Don’t call her that.” She snapped, eyes flashing.

“Why are you so sure that her husband killed her, and what happened over the last couple of nights?” I considered before turning my head on one side to be comical in my considering. “Yes, I think that’s everything.”

“That is not a small amount.” She commented with a wry and unhappy smile.

“No it is not. But over and over and over again I have found the truth that context is key. I learned it in the classroom and the Lecture hall and since I left University, I have learned it in haunted ruins and deserted buildings all over the continent. Context is key and context can get you killed if you ignore it and set it aside.”

She was nodding but I sensed she needed a little bit more.

“The context of the fall of the Knights Errant is not a new Empress making a point on a dangerous and corrupt system. The context is that the Knights Errant were sliding in that direction for years before hand and Toussaint needed a change, the Empress forced that.”

“The Knights Errant have always been like that.” She said, bitterly. “There have always been people that have been willing and able to take advantage of the system for their own benefit and enrichment. It’s just that the ratio of good men to lazy greed has shifted over time to the wrong end of the spectrum.”

She sighed and the anger left her again.

“What did Guy tell you about our childhood?”

I told her in small details.

“He was mostly right except my perspective is somewhat different. I thought that our lessons were important whereas his lessons of swordsmanship and jousting were pointless. We were going to change the world, Amelie, myself and the others. We were going to drag Toussaint into the modern age whether it liked it or not. We had it all planned out like a military campaign, even though I have no idea how a military campaign is planned out. We were going to marry powerful, talented men. We were going to shape them, educated them and in the end we were going to rule them.”

“How old were you?”

“We were twelve.” She smiled. “Guillaume was younger and I looked down on him. It wasn’t until I had my own mishaps that I… But that is jumping ahead in the story. Amelie and I were like sisters. Guy is correct in saying that we were at each other’s throats as often as we were remaking friends and swearing our eternal friendship to each other. She was my worst enemy and my best friend. She was my sister and I loved her.”

She wiped a tear away with an irritated gesture.

“What happened?” I prompted. She had the look of someone that was about to disappear into deep memories.

“Alain happened.” She said simply. “It is not a nice story and it does not paint me in the best of lights.”

“Nothing ever does.” I told her.

“Both of us had plenty of suitors. Amy and I. We were both young and beautiful in the way that only young and privileged people can be. Our families were not poor and we could command a respectable dowry. We had both been… heh… educated as any young lady should be and we were quite the pair of catches. But we were young and arrogant and felt that we deserved something better. I don’t know what Amy was like in that period but I destroyed every suitor that came to meet me and from what I hear, Amy was about the same in her attitudes towards her suitors.”

She drank a sip from her tea.

“Looking back, I can understand why, just as I can understand what Guy saw in Viv. She grew far more beautiful than either Amy or I were at that time. We were the oldest in that circle of friends which meant that we matured first which, in turn, meant that we grew into our bodies and our looks all that much the easier. We had time to grow into our confidence as well. Not understanding that our advantages were born of time rather than anything else, we thought of ourselves as the best of the bunch. So, we became picky.”

She laughed at some image of the past and shook her head.

“Can I just ask? Sir Raoul Leblanc looks to be roughly of an age as you and Alain. Where does he fit into your little social circle?”

“Yes, I had heard that the two of you were rivals. He didn’t fit in. He is just a couple of years older than us, but those couple of years made all the difference. Before I first met him, I will admit to feeling a little sorry for Raoul. Social groups like ours, Guillaume, Alain, Crawthorne and a couple of others on one side, Me, Viv and Amy on the other. They seem to come in clumps of kids. All of our parents started to have children at about the same time. There was a group prior to us who some people, unfairly in my opinion, call the last true group of Knights Errant. They can say that kind of thing because most of them are dead from the wars. But Raoul was a good five years younger than them. So he was always the little kid trailing after them.

“His parents were wealthy, his estate is vast, heavily fortified and a little too far from Beauclair to be properly sociable. So he didn’t have anyone to get to know, other than parents and I understand that his birth was difficult so they never had another child. His parents spoiled him rotten.

“So the older group, being jealous of him, and him being so much younger than them, bullied him mercilessly. There was rumour at the time that some of that bullying got quite intense and dangerous until his parents stopped that kind of socialising. Then our group came along and if I was the oldest in our group, he was a few years older than me. Being charitable, which I don’t like doing with Raoul, he didn’t know how to interact with people other than to bully them.

“Also, like Alain, he is freakishly good with a sword although not quite as good as Alain, but better with a lance. There aren’t many people in TOussaint that can beat him. Gregoire occasionally when the Gorgon outhinks Raoul or Raoul is off his game….”

“Or Raoul throws it to set up a bigger match later?” I suggested.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Raoul does not like to lose. I’ve seen the rage on his face when Gregoire gets him and I can’t see him being able to fake that. I don’t follow the jousting much, but my understanding is that Guillaume is better with the lance, but Raoul is better at outhinking his opponent.”

“Did you ever consider marrying him?”

“No, truth be told it never came up. I was always the little girl who he used to tug around by her pigtails to him. He sells himself as this white armoured hero and it always surprises me that people fall for it, every single time. So no, I didn’t marry him although I would probably have done quite well out of it. He doesn’t seem to be interested in women for anything other than purely sexual purposes so…” She shrugged.

“It’s one of those things that, if we could go back and change one thing about our pasts then I would tell myself to take one of the good men that came along. Men that would have been devoted to my happiness. Even if they weren’t quite as beautiful I wanted them to be, or strong and brave. But they would have adored me and I could have grown to love them in return.”

She shook her head again. “It is very easy to walk down the path of what could have been. Guy and I would never have worked though. No matter how much our parents wanted it to happen.”

“My view, having met the pair of you, is that you would end up clawing his eyes out.”

“And he would have been incredibly hurt and wounded, walking around, self-flagellating for hurting me without understanding that I wanted some rise, some passion out of him. I would have grown bored and looked elsewhere for my pleasure I think. In the long run.”

I said nothing to that. I was just on the edge of prompting her again when she started speaking again.

“Without meaning to, Amy and I became rivals. It was a competition as to which of the two of us could be the most wanted, who could gather the most suitors, who would have the smallest dowry… (Freddie: In theory, the bigger the dowry, the less desirable the woman as the father is persuading the suitor to take a plain and charmless daughter off his hands. Therefore, the smaller the dowry, the more desirable the woman. At least that’s the theory.) but the real competition was going to be about who got the best husband. It was already arranged that we would be each other’s maids of honour at the weddings and the ceremonies themselves would be competitions in and of their own right. But fathers pay for those so we wouldn’t really be involved in that part of thing anyway.”

She sighed unhappily and I guessed that we were coming to the crux of the matter now.