In the meantime, our opposite number amongst the boys had grown up into being Alain. He was a little younger than us but he was a late blooming flower. It was the strangest thing. It seemed to me, and Amy as well, that he went from being a boy to being a man almost overnight. He turned up to one of the regular gatherings that we all attended and in he strode, tall, dashing, handsome in his Knightly livery. Suddenly he knew how to move, how to dance and how to behave, always with this charming little smile as though he knew a joke that no-one else knew. But the attraction was that he might let you in on the joke.”

She paused. “It turned out that the joke was on us though. We were the ones that he was laughing at.”

“I remember that party vividly. It was held By Lord de Peyrac-Peyran at his estate. A big, outdoor dance kind of affair with lanterns and lights. I remember watching Alain dancing with some lady, it might even have been his mother or an aunt of some kind but I remember that I could not take my eyes off him. He was due to take his Knightly Vows within a few days after a purely nominal amount of time as the squire of one of his uncles. People were already making wagers as to just how much of a boon he was going to be to Toussaint. But even then, they let him call himself “Sir” Alain and that was how he was announced. I remember it so clearly that he finished the dance with the lady. He pulled apart and bowed deeply and as he escorted his partner from the floor, I looked over at Amy and realised that she was no longer my friend.

“We were two young women at war. Where men might use swords and arrows, we used dresses, gestures, makeup and perfumes. We assaulted Alain’s virtue like crazy women and it went on and on. With each of us competing, who could get the best dances. Who could entice him the most. Who could get the poems and the gifts of flowers. Who could be awarded the rose of beauty at whichever tournament he would win the sword at.

“Later on, it became who could get the first caress, who could get the most dangerous caress, who could get the first kiss, who could get the most intimate kiss and so on and so on. We had him. We knew we had him. Our parents were open to the idea. My father was still preferring that I married Guy but he was aware of how I felt towards Alain and kept his options open. Amy’s family were more open for that alliance and that was an advantage that she had over me.

“I hated my father for that. For the longest time I thought that his… reticence in the matter of the negotiating led to Alain being forced on Amy.

“So I made my mistake. It was a simple mistake but it would not be a lie to say that it ruined my life.”

I said nothing although I was fairly confident that I knew what she was going to tell me.

She took a deep breath. “I decided, that to beat Amy to the altar with Alain as my husband, then I would need to go further and she was prepared to go. So, I read some books on the subject and I seduced him to my bed.”

She considered this a short while.

“And by bed, I mean a grass bank underneath an apple tree. And by seduced, I mean that I wore half a dress and all but told him that I wanted him to fuck me.”

Again with the beautiful noble women swearing.

There was another pause.

“You are being very courteous.” She told me. “You have not asked me how it was.”

“I have not.”

“Would you like to know?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Then I shall tell you. It was painful, awkward, rushed and was over just as I was beginning to think that there might be something to enjoy in the arms of a man. He knew what he was doing. He had clearly already made his way with several women, maids and the like I shouldn’t wonder, so he knew what he liked but he rather thought that I would like the same. Looking back, I rather think that whatever women he had had, had been more vocal in their lovemaking in order to pay him some form of compliment and bind him to them. They needn’t have bothered.”

Her mouth twisted into something unpleasant.

“We slept together a few more times. I extracted promises that he would speak to his father to arrange the marriage and that we would be together now that we were lovers. I thought I had won. I was certain that I had won when I managed to get pregnant. I thought that was it and I told him so, he even seemed pleased.”

There were tears in her eyes suddenly.

“Then I came downstairs to breakfast one morning after being sick and father greeted me with a sympathetic look and the news that we were being invited to the betrothal feast of Amy and Alain.”

She shook her head.

“I’m told that I screamed. I screamed and screamed and screamed. I screamed so hard, that my Doctor claimed that I lost the baby there and then. I was put to bed with hysterics.”

The tears spilled from her eyes then. “At some point during the next few days, a potion was slipped in with the rest of my medicine that meant that I lost the baby. No-one would admit as to who had done it or even admit that it was done, but I was convinced and I blamed my parents for it. Come to that, I blame them still.”

We took a small break after that. It was a sad story but I would be lying if I said it was a new story. It is unfortunate that things like this kind of thing happen all the time. Sometimes it is even the parents that order their daughters to the beds of other noblemen or even Kings, in order to trap them into a marriage or alliance. In those instances, the advent of a pregnancy is even a good thing as it would force the issue. There are records of the families of Royal and senior noble Bastards attaining great wealth and status as a result. But for any person that would condemn, either Lady Gaumont, or her parents, then I would say that they should look to their own house first.

I am not denying that it is hard on the poor woman that is used this way though.

I made tea, found some cakes and waited for the lady to recover.

“I handled it badly.” She said. “It’s easy to look back at the entire situation and know that I handled it so badly, but at that time and at that place, I could not just stay in my family home and pretend that I was recovering. With the benefits of hindsight and age, I should have waited, gone travelling and found myself some Northern or Imperial husband, but at the time, I could not have faced that. Full of the outrage of youth, I confronted my friend and her newly betrothed husband.

“And I did it publicly.”

I winced in sympathy.

“I went up to them at a party, all “righteous anger”. I screamed at Amy for stealing “my” man and I screamed at him for making me pregnant. For breaking his word and all kinds of other things. It was quite the scene. The sort of thing that once upon a time, I would have pointed to and laughed at. I would have said words to the extent that “You will never catch me doing a thing like that and there I was, doing it. It was the strangest thing. It was like I was watching myself from behind a window as I ranted, screamed and raved. About how my tears went everywhere and I pulled my hair and tore my dress and it just went on and on and on.”

She laughed.

“Quite funny really. He denied it of course, publicly told me that I was a liar and a whore. That I was jealous of Amy’s beauty and that I couldn’t secure myself a real man. I remember looking around at all the Knights that were standing around watching the entire situation. I kept waiting for one of them to step forward and defend my honour. But I was a seventeen year old girl, yelling at another seventeen year old girl and and her sixteen year old betrothed.”

“They laughed, didn’t they.”

“They did. And on that same night, any chance of me getting a decent betrothal vanished. The only one that was left was Guillaume’s family and his mother killed that idea. Either because of the scandal that would be tied to her son, or because her son was already infatuated with Viv,... Whatever, she stepped in and killed the idea. That was the last hope and Father stopped trying.

“He sent me out here to rot away, to wither and die like the scandalous harlot that I am. But the truth is that I didn’t fight the decision. I hated my parents for not being able to get me betrothed to the man that I loved, I hated them more for, or so I believed and still believe, slipping me the potion that robbed me of a young child that I could have loved, at least a little bit. My maid came with me and a cook. The thing that hurt me the most was that my mother did not even fight for me. Not really. I’ve seen her a few times since I left as she came to visit. She stays a few hours at most and leaves uncomfortable.”

“How long ago did you leave home?”

She smiled. “Are you asking how old I was?”

“I suppose so.”

“Never ask…”

“A lady her age, I know. But in this case, it’s relevant.”

“Amy and I are, or were, the same age at twenty eight now. I left home at eighteen so that was ten years ago that I left. Alain and Amy got married when he hit his eighteenth birthday. That meant that his apprenticeship with the Knights Errant was over. (Freddie: A period of time where the Knight works for the good of the realm and without hoping for reward. If they last the year then they can start attending tournaments and earning from the Ducal coffers. I will not dare to suggest what the reason for this policy was.) I did not attend but I’m told that I would have been barred from the place anyway.

“A couple of years passed. I was learning to be at peace with my lot in life. I was a remote and tragic figure to many people and beloved of the common folk. They had me down as a woman done wrong by the nobility and as such I found that I was popular. No-one was more astonished than me. I got visited by various minstrels that sang my song. Not all of them survived Alain’s fury and duelling sword. So that lessened. I still get visits. I entertained Lord Pankratz when he was here last. That was a while ago, seven years? Maybe. The Duchess exiled him, on pain of death that time, when she found out about his indiscretions.”

She sniffed, showing what she thought of that.

“Then one day, a couple of years after the wedding. I was astonished to find Amy walking up my path. I ignored her, just brushing past her and refusing to have anything to do with her. Then she astonished me by bursting into tears. Another one of those things that you just don’t do. Wail, cry out, be overcome? Yes. But just bursting into tears? Never that.

“From some hidden reserve, I remembered that Amy was my friend, took her inside, fed her some tea and she showed me the bruises on her ribs.”

I felt my eyes narrow.

“Yes. But she daren’t show anyone else. She only came to me because she needed someone to talk to but knew that no-one would listen to me.”

“Something of a back-handed compliment.”

“That’s what I said. I’ve checked her since and that was the only time he hit her, beneath the dress so it wouldn’t show as much. Apparently she had found out about his infidelities and confronted him with them. So he hit her.” She paused, staring into the dancing flames. “And I thought I hated him before.”

“I can imagine.”

“Can you? I am not so convinced. Because now I saw it all. Helped with a few hints and comments from Amy. I had escaped. I was the lucky one. I had got away with just being an early notch on his bedpost. I could have ended up marrying the bastard and then I would have found myself where my friend was. Lonely, beaten up, and certain that she had only been married because it was the only way that he could get into her underwear. He even told her as much apparently.”

She was hissing and snarling now. Like an angry dog barking at a cat that it couldn’t get to.

“Can you understand it? Can you understand what it would be like to see something once so beautiful, being reduced to ash in front of you. Can you imagine loving a person so much that you would put up with that. Because that’s the other thing, she still loves him. That’s why she’s never run away. She could, many times over. She’s gorgeous, charming, kind and prime material to be swept off her feet. But she still hopes that Alain will come around.”

“But he wouldn’t.” I said, noticing that she was still thinking of Lady Moineau in the present tense. I know from my own experience that such matters are hard.

“No he wouldn’t.”

“So, I understand why you hate him, but why do you think he killed her?”

“A couple of years after she first came to me, we will have been about twenty two. There was a minstrel staying with me. I had long since decided that a pretty face does not make for a good man, or even a good lover often and I found him dull, but it is always flattering to one’s ego to see someone trying so hard. But then Amy came up, looking thoroughly miserable as Alain was off, sleeping his way through a bunch of circus performers I think? Anyway, she came up with a face like she had just seen a bunch of puppies being kicked and the minstrel was instantly smitten. It did wonders for her ego although she didn’t consummate. She saw him as an Alain in the making and didn’t want to create another one.

“It took me some time to convince her to try having an affair. A proper one, complete with shagging. Since their confrontation, Alain had become more brazen with his affairs. He was so good with his sword hand that he had killed many in duels and was good enough with the other weapons that there weren’t many that would take him on the field and those that could… Gregoire… Who would go to Gregoire the Brute for a matter of honour? Bastard would probably take the money and rape the woman asking for help.”

She snorted.

I carefully said nothing.

“People like Sir Morgan wouldn’t care and those other Knights that could take Alain at that time, were either busy… you know… doing their job. Or were so old fashioned that they would believe Alain was in the right. But Amy wanted to believe in the honour of the thing so she balked at all of that.

“I was furious on her behalf and I took to badgering her about it. I told her that she could come and visit any time she wanted. That she could keep her lover here and that she could come and visit. That it would be safe. My servants agreed with my assessment that the fucker deserved a set of Cuckold horns, several sets even. She finally chose a woodsman that was working on some logging nearby in the summer. Big strapping lad he was. She seduced him timidly, brought him here and the boy did me proud. I saw to it that he got a bonus in his final pay packet and saw to it that, in future, when Amy came to stay, she slept further away from my bedroom.

“She felt better, and worse for it. On the one hand, there is nothing that relaxes a soul so much as a good hard shag from a willing, handsome accomplice. Or a nice, soft and slow one for that matter. And again, his enthusiasm did her ego a whole power of good. But she wanted some drama with the sex, some romance. It was just an empty gesture for her.”

“Kerrass did say that there was a love of the drama of the situation for her.”

“And never did a man more rise to the occasion than Kerrass did, bless his heart. There have been Knights that fell into Amy’s bed, thinking that they were rescuing her, but she didn’t want that, or wasn’t ready for that. There were Bards and minstrels that would promise to make her famous, and they succeeded even though they use pseudonyms. But she finds them vapid and pointless. She had a lot of fun seducing the common folk in the fields. The noble lady taking the common lover, but… and I agree that education does not equate directly with intelligence, she found them dull and boring. She would complain that, after the deed was done, they had nothing to talk about.

“But then she met Kerrass. At some ball or another shortly after you had all arrived and as she put it, “there was a fire between us almost immediately”.

“She came to stay that very night and made sure that Kerrass knew that she was here. He played the game wonderfully and brilliantly. I applauded that and cheered them on. As I say, any chance I could get to give that fuck-pig horns, I would do it. But Kerrass and she were the first time I truly enjoyed the spectacle. It was fun, it was sweet, it was funny and endearing. They both needed what the other could give and neither expected more. I even wondered if I could persuade Kerrass to stay in Toussaint when you leave in the hopes that… give it a few years and for Alain’s sword skill to erode, Kerrass would challenge Alain for the cad that he is and kill him on the field of honour.”

“Kerrass is the best swordsman I know. He could take him.”

“I took that up with Kerrass once. He said that if it was a fight, then he would be confident. But a duel? Apparently, he looked into it and found that Lord Geralt is one of the few Swordsmen in Toussaint that can challenge Alain. I would have tried him but he prefers to remain separate from this kind of thing. Except when he doesn’t but as Alain is long past the place where he would do anything to hurt Amy. Geralt never saw anything that would make him cross enough to step up.

“I hoped that Kerrass would stay, that the two could love each other in the immediate ways that they had and that, in the long run, their mutual fascination and tentative explorations of each other would turn into love. Two broken hearts coming together to heal each other. I am still Toussaint enough to find that appealing.”

“But it was not to be.” I said. She was right, it was an appealing image. My secret, or not so secret if you listen to Ariadne on the subject, romantic heart was still pulling for Kerrass and the Princess Dorn to get things together. But this would have been a good alternative. Even if it would have had no long term future, Kerrass needed some healing in his life and this would have been good for him. If I had known that this plan was in the offing, then I would even have encouraged it myself.

“But it was not to be.” She agreed. I saw my own thoughts reflected in this other woman’s eyes.

“What happened, how did it start?”

She took a deep breath. “It started to go wrong, not yesterday, or the day before that, but the day before that. So, the day that Lady Tratamara was killed. Amy went into town for all the reasons that a lady might go into town. I think she wanted something nice to wear for Kerrass that would feed into her fantasy life. Also some food and a couple of bottles of wine. Apparently, Kerrass has this trick for heating rocks that meant that they could be outside in the middle of winter and still be quite warm. Amy wanted to make love underneath the stars and she was hoping to get that sorted out.

“As I say. I was all for this given that she can be quite vocal and if she wasn’t here then that would mean that I wouldn’t have to listen. I was glad for the pair of them, but I was still jealous. You know?”

Pangs of the past ripped through me. My best friend and the girl that I had crushed on, that I had introduced to him at her request. Her sitting in his lap and kissing him hungrily before he remembered that I was there. I blinked and I was back in the villa in Toussaint.

“I know.”

My two friends are happily married now of course, and I couldn’t be more happy for them. I was even proud, in the last days before I left Oxenfurt, to stand as one of his friends in the wedding chapel alongside his brothers and another friend. I was not ready for her back then as I was still changing from the boy to the man. The pair of them were right for each other and I like to think that, on some level, I knew that they would be perfect for each other. If I did, then I was right. One son approaching two years old and their last letter tells me that they are expecting a second child soon. I am so happy for you both and cannot wait to see you both for my own wedding.

“Yes,” Lady Gaumont said. “I can see that you do.” She sighed. “Balls of the Prophet but I miss her.”

She had cut out the middle man now and just sat there with a handkerchief in her hand. Saved the time needed to fish it out from her sleeve I suppose.

“She came home early. She had done her shopping, minus whatever garment she had wanted to buy. She put the food away and walked around with the slight frown on her face, as though she was trying to figure out if she was in pain, or sick enough. It was as though she had the beginnings of a toothache and was trying to decide whether or not it was worth going to see the surgeon yet. I tried to talk to her, of course I did. But she just shook her head and didn’t want to talk about it. We had our first row in a long time because of that. She wanted me to stop prying, but she was troubled. I could tell. She wanted it to be nothing and I could tell that too.

“I think…. This is guesswork but I’ve known her a long time now and I am pretty good at reading her. I think she couldn’t decide whether she was angry about something or not.”

“Being out here, did you know about the Jack attacks?”

She laughed. “I suspect that we knew before you did. Possibly even before the Knights Francesca did. Trust for the new Knights is growing among the Common folk but it’s not there yet. They are much more likely to trust each other before they take the matter to the guards, or the Knights. We knew that the girl who worked in the Cockatrice had died, and we knew about the Donnet girl who was killed by someone dressed as Jack. The more chilling aspect of it was that the peasants and the servants almost had a kind of grim humour about it all.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Jack is the bogeyman in Toussaint now. People are afraid of him. It’s who we use to scare the children to sleep. Men sit around fires and hearths and compete in telling tales of Blood-chilling terror that involve Jack doing some horrible things to whoever he came across.

“So for a while there. There was a joke going round that what had happened was that the Donnet girl had just been raped, and the man that found her was so horrified by what he saw that he simply decided that a human couldn’t do such a thing and that it must have been Jack that did it. It was well known that the locals had been attending a party at the time.

“A much darker rumour was that the peasants that were hunting for the attacker actually knew who it was that had done the crime, didn’t dare say anything for whatever reason and, as a result, declared that it was Jack that had had to pop his dick back in his trousers.”

I found that I was shocked at her. More than her use of the word Peasant which I have spoken about many times, but her off-hand comments and the thinking of the locals on that subject.

“On the other hand the currently prevailing gossip is that it can’t possibly be Jack. They think it’s a person, an outsider, or a mage masquerading as Jack.”

“Why do they think that?”

“They don’t think that the crimes are horrible enough.”

“I have seen some of those victims and the remains that were left behind. They were pretty horrible.”

“Yes, but the build up of Jack in the local populace means that he would have left behind something much worse.”

“Bleak.” I said. “Very bleak. That suggests that they have seen similar things happen before.”

“They have.” She said. “You have spent too much time up at the palace. Things are better now, especially since the Duchess took the throne. But in her husband’s time, it would not be uncommon for a group of young nobles to go out and torture someone to death because they could. And then no-one would come forward to accuse…. So…” She shrugged.

“Things like that happen all over the continent.” I admitted and it’s true whether we like it or not. The stories about some of the things that King Radovid did are only the beginning.

“I can believe it, but we are Toussaint. We are supposed to be better than that aren’t we.”

“I could get into a longer debate about the face that is presented to the continent and the people versus the real truth of the matter.” I told her.

“But you’re not going to.”

“No. Maybe if we solve this and I have some time you could join my fiancee…” I felt it necessary to remind her that I was betrothed. I don’t know why. “And I for lunch and we can discuss it then.”

She grinned. I rather think that she saw what I had done. “I might take you up on that. But you are right. That is not what we are here for.

“Amy was not nice to be around that afternoon and evening. We argued, we fought, I even think she might have left but for the fact that she was meeting Kerrass that night. In the end, I took a firm hold of my temper and informed her that she needed to tell someone about whatever it was that was bothering her. That I was a little hurt that my friend wouldn’t confide in me, but that she should confide in someone. I then suggested Kerrass.”

“How did she react?”

“She was hurt by the suggestion that she didn’t trust me. But instantly perked up at the thought of speaking to Kerrass. Then she said something interesting.

“She said “If I tell you, then that might make it real.”

““Make what real?” I asked.

““That I am in danger.”

““What danger?” I demanded. “Who from? What from? What’s happening?”

“But she wouldn’t tell me. She just shook her head and I finally saw through her. She was terrified. She had spent the day trying to figure out whether or not the fear was justified.”

She pursed her lips together and shook her head in frustration. I recognised that look. That was the look of someone looking for clues in her memory. Trying to see if there is anything that she had forgotten, any hint as to what might have happened and what she might have done to fix things.

“Kerrass came that night.” She said quietly, staring off into space now. “He came, full of joy, amusement and that look that men get when they know they’re getting laid that night. He strode in with a smile… He had brought a bunch of winter flowers with him and a bottle of wine. But the mood of the house hit him between the eyes like a broadsword.

“He carefully set the flowers down and took Amy in his arms. I remember that she was shivering despite my keeping the fire hot at this time of year.

“Kerrass took her up to her room and they sat up there and talked for a while. A long while actually. They came down to dinner where Amy sat quietly while Kerrass concentrated on something. They went back up to her room where they made love before Kerrass came back downstairs, strapping his swords on and he left without a word.

“Amy came back down shortly afterwards and hugged me. “I’m sorry.” She said.

““For what?” I asked.

““I don’t know.” She said. “But I think it’s going to get bad.”

““Have the two of you had a fight?” I wondered.

“She laughed. She was right though. It got bad.

“We went to bed early that night and woke up slowly. The urge to hibernate like bears and rabbits do in the winter was strong in me. It always is but that night… I felt the urge to stay in bed rather keenly.

“It was shortly after midday that they came for her. A group of guards from the Moineau estate. I knew their leader…”

“What was his name?”

“His name is Denis Sadoul. Nice man all told. Elder son of a local farmer, local to the Moineau estate. The Moineau guards don’t really do much other than dress in the livery and stand around to decorate the place. Glorified servants really, or so I’m told. He came and told us that he had come to take Amy home. He told us why, some waffle about wanting to ensure that she was safe in the face of these attacks.”

“Was he lying?”

She shook her head. “I certainly think that that was what he had been told. He believed it. He’s a simple man, doesn’t have the imagination for anything more complicated than that.”

I nodded. Still he might know something if I could arrange a way to question him.

“What was odd though was that the men were ordered to take her immediately. No time to stop and pack, or time to write a note, nothing. She just went. They had a spare horse for her, leaving her other one here. Which I am damn well going to sell if no-one comes to claim it. She was up on the horse and gone before I could turn around. I had enough time to hug my friend and then she was gone. Just like that.”

“How did she feel about it?”

“I don’t know.” I was losing her. Upset and grief take their toll sooner or later. “I would say that you should ask her but you can't because she’s dead. She paled, she seemed resigned as though she expected it. The fear fell out of her and was replaced with resignation and weariness. Broke my fucking heart. I stood there and watched as she climbed onto the back of that horse that they had brought for her. I watched. I should have done something…”

I couldn’t let that slide. “What would you have done?” I demanded before realising that it was the wrong thing to say. “What could you have done?” That was better. “You could have attacked them, at which point you would be injured, or dead. You could have warned her, tried to protect her but she went willingly. What would you have done differently?”

I realised that I had got up and started to pace around and I forced myself to sit back down next to her.

“It’s easy, so very easy to look back at a time of loss and think that there was something that we should have done. That we could have done. So very easy. I could have taken them away, I could have made it clear that I loved them. When my father died I would have given everything to be able to go back and make peace with him. It didn’t help that he knew that, that he also knew that, in fighting him and ignoring him, I had become a son that he was proud of. I wish I could have gone back and talked to him, but the truth is that if I had done so, it would have negated what we both needed to realise.

“I miss my sister. Someone who would be horrified to learn that people are now calling her “Saint”. She would laugh for a moment before the full horror of the situation would hit her and she would raise her hand to her face. “That’s awful” she would say, and she would not be wrong to say it. My last words to her were not anything profound. I didn’t tell her that I loved her. Nor was I angry with her. It was just an off-handed comment. Something so… banal that I can now, no longer remember what it was. I probably said something like “See you later,” or a grunt to acknowledge that she had said the same thing to me.

“I wish. I wish with all my soul that there was something that I could have seen, something that I should have seen that would have warned me, and warned her that she was in danger. Something that I could have done something about. I’ve spent the last year driving myself mad, literally making myself ill by going over those events. Over and over and over again, trying to find that thing, that clue, that thing that I could have done to save her.

“And when I can’t keep my eyes open any more. When exhaustion finally pulls me down into an exhausted, unhelpful sleep. The kind that seems to do more harm than good, when that happens, my last thought is that I wish I could have told her how much she meant to me.”

I had no idea what I was going to say as I started to speak. There was even a small part of me that wondered where the words were coming from. And another part that was jumping up and down, telling myself “See, we told you. You’re right. Now listen and take note”. I did my best to set that aside and listen to what I was going to say next.

“The truth is that there was nothing that we could have done. Nothing that we could have said. We did the best we could have done with what we knew, and were capable of at the time. You could not have saved your friend. You could not. I don’t know for sure, and I say that because I’m a scholar and how are we supposed to be sure about anything? but I would say that your friend was dead from the moment that she agreed to go with those men. I would even say that she knew it too. How were you to know that? How could you have figured?”

I allowed myself a pause to calm down and get my breath back

“You will say…. I know because I did the same, you will say “I should have known.” You didn’t. You couldn’t. When we look back we do so with all the awareness and confidence that Hindsight offers us. We didn’t know that at the time, we had seen nothing that might have suggested such a thing. It did not occur to us because it never occurs to us that the horror might happen to us. I cannot go back and save my sister, nor can I go back and tell her that I loved her.”

My voice cracked at the end.

“She knew.” Severine told me. “Your sister knew that you loved her.”

She was trying to comfort me? This wasn’t about that. I blinked and just let my mouth keep talking.

“Just as Amelie knew that she was protecting you. If she had stayed, trying to hide behind you, trying to use you to protect herself, then there is a very real chance that you would have ended up dying alongside her. She loved you back. I don’t know what she was thinking at the time. Maybe what she did was to take the last walk to the hanged man and try to end with dignity. But do not blame yourself. Nor should you blame her. She saved you.”

Severine nodded and turned back to the fire. I had a nearly overwhelming urge to hug her, but that would have been a mistake. On so many levels that would have been a mistake.

“What happened later?” I asked gently.

“Kerrass came. Still expecting her to be here. I told him what had happened and we bitched with each other for a moment that now would be the time that Alain decided to be a husband to his wife. He did frown slightly but… I will admit to trying my luck with him a bit. To see if he really was as good as Amy’s vocalisation would suggest, but he was uninterested. Still had his heart on his blonde I think.”

“He has a thing for blondes.” I told her, leaving out the fact that he also doesn’t enjoy women that come on too strongly. He likes to come together with a partner on equal footing. But that’s a digression for another day.

“Yes, I read as much. He left shortly after.”

I nodded, that would track with what Kerrass had told me. He, at least, had not thought that anything was wrong at the time otherwise he would have said something. Or, if he was already bound by some form of oath, he would have left to deal with the matter.

“What happened last night? I understand Kerrass came here.”

“Yes he did. He looked… tense I suppose, or at least that was the impression I got. Like a coiled spring or a man on the way to a battle. He moved quickly, purposefully. He had a destination in mind.”

“What happened?” I repeated.

“Not much. He came in. I told him that Amy wasn’t here and that messages would be sent if she had returned. He told me that he had not expected her to return, but that he thought she might be in danger of some kind. And that I might share that danger in some way. He asked to go up to Amy’s room, I could see no reason why not and so I let him up. He was up there for maybe half an hour.”

“Did you go with him?”

“No. I did not want to see if he found anything that would make me cross, nor did I want to be going through Amy’s personal things. He must have found what he was looking for because he came back downstairs with a face like thunder. He stalked up to me and asked me if I had anywhere safe to go. I laughed at him and he grabbed me by the shoulders.

““This is serious.” He told me. “Amelie is in danger which means that you might be in danger too. Do you have anywhere else to go?”

““No.” I said. “I have no friends nearby and my parents won’t take me.”

“Then he gave me some money. “Then go to the inn.” He said. “Whichever one, it doesn’t matter. Book yourself in under a false name and do not leave until someone you trust implicitly comes for you. Or an uptight young Northern Lord that goes by Freddie von Coulthard. You can trust him and anyone he brings with him. Especially a pretty, pale woman with black hair that calls herself Ariadne. Go with them.”

“Then he left, at the gallop.”

I nodded and climbed to my feet. “How did you find out what happened to Lady Moineau?”

“Peasant gossip is a far more reliable source of information than any kind of official channel.”

I nodded, I could well believe it in a place like Toussaint.

“May I search the room?”

“I suppose so, what harm will it do her now? It’s upstairs, last door on the right.” She waved in the direction of a staircase and I moved towards them before stopping and turning around.

“Not for nothing.” I began carefully. “But I am still catching up with Kerrass. He didn’t tell me what was happening and I am still working a lot of this stuff out. Kerrass does not hand out idle threats or warnings. If he tells you that he will kill you if you do something, then he means it as a warning, not a threat. And if he warned me to run and hide, then the words would not be out of his mouth before I was running to my horse. I will advise you to listen to him. Gather what you can and then Guillaume and I will escort you to the inn and we will send someone to pick you up and take you to the chapterhouse of the Knights.”

“I’m not going there.” She protested.

“Then they will take you to the palace.” I told her. “Or somewhere. Ariadne is a Sorceress and she can take you to the moon for all I know. But if Kerrass thinks you are in danger, then you are in danger. If he told you to run, then you should already be running.”

I went up the stairs.

It was obviously an old building. No way of telling actually how old. It had the strange look of something that had started off relatively small, probably with the mill and the river in mind before time and necessity had resulted in more and more things being built on the side. Until it became a residence with a wheel attached. The corridor was twisty, crooked and misshapen.

I loved it.

The last room on the right turned out to be fairly large, built with an east facing window and contained it’s own hearth. There was a large bed with the bed clothes rumpled which nearly gave me pause until I remembered that the room had already been searched by Kerrass and he would not have remade the bed after he had gone.

There were flowers on the windowsill, an open book which was placed upside down and open onto the page that the reader had last finished reading. I had to physically stop myself from walking over there and closing the book on the grounds that such rampant cruelty to the common book should be outlawed and punished by slow drowning.

There was a wardrobe, a changing screen, a small desk with some papers and an ink pot nearby.

It was a nice room. Lacking some of the personal touches that I would expect from a personal bedroom, but it was a nice room nonetheless. A perfect little lovenest.

I stood there for several moments as I tried to think logically and clearly. When Kerrass had first come here, he had searched the place. Had he found what he had been looking for, or had he been frustrated.

So I tried to put myself in Kerrass’ boots and think the way that he would have. Not as easy as it might sound. For a start, he’s done this kind of thing a lot more than I have, and his experience can often end up looking like some kind of magical instinct that leads him to the solution of the mystery. I don’t have that.

There was another question to come as well. Kerrass almost certainly knew that I was going to come after him. Or did he? Did he think he was just going to leave here and solve the problem. Or, more likely, did he disbelieve that I would need to follow in his footsteps. It was far more likely that he would have been able to tell me everything that he needed to tell me and that we would move on from there.

Another question that occurred to me in the there and then of the situation was that, if Kerrass had searched the place… Would he have put everything back neatly. If he was going through Lady Moineau’s drawers and examining the back and the underneath for hidden things. Would he put them back or would he just discard them in a pile in the middle of the floor. He had been up here for some time, so the possibility that he had known where to look was dismissed.

I was overthinking and I needed to get down to the nitty gritty of the situation. I needed to stop thinking about how to search and actually get down to do some actual searching. Also, I’m not Kerrass, thinking like Kerrass got him into trouble. I needed to think like me and actually put the work in.

So I started with the papers on her desk. Most were letters, both to her and from her. There were several, unsent letters to her parents that detailed her list of grievances as well as telling them just how awful it was to be married to someone like Alain. Some of those letters looked quite old. There were similar letters to Alain telling him how much he hurt her with every transgression. I snorted at these, I took it to mean that various people had told her to write the letters in an effort to get the feelings onto paper and thus to get rid of them. It’s certainly how I do it, but it had either not worked for her or she had needed to get even more of these feelings out.

There was even an unfinished letter to Kerrass as well. It was, essentially, a break up letter. Telling him that she couldn’t keep doing what she was doing, that even though her husband had betrayed her, she couldn’t betray him. That this was the measure of her integrity and she asked Kerrass to forgive her. It was telling to me that she hadn’t finished the letter, let alone sent it.

The other drawers on the writing desk contained the normal kinds of things that you might put in a guest room if someone wanted to do some writing. There was some parchment, some quills and a paring knife for trimming the quills. There was also a block of wax for sealing and yes, there was a candle on the desk that would be used for that purpose.

I checked the fireplace to see if anything had been burnt but couldn’t find anything other than a bit of burnt wood and ash.

I didn’t really want to go through a lady’s clothes but sooner or later I found that I had no choice. I wish I could tell you that I found something interesting or salacious, but I didn’t. Not that I’m overly familiar with the contents of a ladies clothing storage but there we go. I found her empty travel bags and her store of sweet snacks. I also searched through the small number of cosmetics that she had. Not that as I recall, she had needed that many cosmetics, she was already a beautiful woman.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Had been. She had been a beautiful woman.

I took a deep breath. I was going about this wrong. I was trying to search a room based on something that might be kept hidden. Hidden by someone like me or like Kerrass. But that wasn’t what happened. A lady had hidden it, if there was anything to find…

No, there was something here to find. Kerrass had told me to come here, so there was something to find.

So a Lady had hidden something. So where does a lady hide something?

On her person. For a number of reasons. She would then, always know where the thing was and wouldn’t need to worry if it was lost or if it had been stolen. Or she would give it to a trusted friend. But I don’t think that Lady Severine had been lying when she had told me that she didn’t know why this had happened. So it wasn’t that.

So where would a lady hide something?

I checked her chamber pot but found it clean, to which I was unsurprised. I checked the washing basin and then I checked her shoes. She had been wearing boots, presumably against the cold and all the outside things. But she also had a pair of dancing shoes and a few others that went with some of her other outfits.

So then I looked at all the walls and in all the nooks and crannies for hidden items. I tapped on walls and on floor boards looking for something that sounded hollow, or sounded different from the next thing. Still nothing. I also went behind the changing screen to see what was going on in there. There was a chair but nothing else. Still, I checked underneath the chair to find absolutely nothing.

Only one place left to look then. I had been putting off looking there, which should have been a clue really.

Nothing under the bed, hidden behind the bed, hidden under the mattress. I pulled off the blankets and found nothing. Pulled off the sheets and found nothing other than some smells that I would rather not have had in my nose, or in my brain and memory.

There was nothing under the pillows but, as I picked one up I found something that was crinkling. Reaching inside the covering, I finally found what I was looking for.

It was a small piece of parchment, carefully folded into quarters. It smelt of the perfume that was in the room and I guessed that the paper had certainly been kept on the lady’s person for some time. It was hidden, but not too hidden. The kind of hidden that meant that she trusted, but not too much. That was, assuming that Kerrass hadn’t put it there, or that he had put it back of course. I assumed the latter. When he was here, he had not known that the lady was dead or dying. Not yet at least.

The note read. “You do not know me, nor do you have any reason to trust me. But your life is in danger. Come to the courtyard in front of the Nilfgaardian embassy and I will tell you all that I know so that you can make your own decision.”

Huh.

I went back downstairs, trying not to clog my mind up with useless theories that could not possibly be proven or disproven. Lady Severine was still sat where I had left her, other than stoking up the fire a bit, she had barely moved.

“What did you find?” She asked.

“A note. Do you recognise the handwriting?” I handed it over and her eyes widened as she read what was written.

“No.” She said. “It is a woman’s hand though. Better quality than the average man’s hand.”

“I agree.” I told her. “Also, a young woman’s hand, the letters are slightly rounded still, and written in haste. There are splatters of ink from the speed and the roughness of the quill.”

She looked up at me in surprise and I smiled. “I am a scholar, remember.”

She nodded.

“So what will you do now?” She wondered. “What do you think this means?”

“I don’t know. But if there was a meeting outside the Nilfgaardian embassy, then their secret police will have made a note of it. It’s the kind of thing that they live for. In the meantime, go and pack some things. We are escorting you to Beauclair.”

“I’m not going to Beau…”

“You are in danger.” I told her. “Kerrass thought so and even if I didn’t respect his opinion in nearly everything in this world, I would still think that you were in danger and need to be taken somewhere where your only protection isn’t an aging wood cutter and his wife.” I looked around. “A heavy Iron poker is not going to frighten anyone who knows what they are doing. Nor is a sharp dagger.”

She grimaced.

“I will not take no for an answer madam.” I told her.

And just like that, everything changed.

We finally got her packed and on her horse with some travelling bags on the back of her horse which was housed with the wood cutter’s family and she complained, screamed, fought and carried on for the entire process.

But she did it.

I’m also not going to deny how much hard work it was to get things done with her screaming at me. Literally screaming at me from the chest that she was unpacking in order to put things in a pair of saddlebags. It was a nightmare. I’ve never seen anything like it. Never….

Well, that’s not true. I have seen something like it. Back when I was privileged enough to see Emma pitch a fit when she got punished for some of the transgressions of brother Edmund. May his soul find peace.

And that was what it was. It was a tantrum. It was the tantrum of a person who knew that the other person in the argument was correct, but was also used to getting their own way. She hated being told what to do and my feeling was that it was a reflexive pushback at the people telling her what to do.

That didn’t make it any better when she started calling us thieves, murderers and rapists though.

Guillaume took it in his stride and, essentially, ignored her pleas to call me out for a duel, at which time her ire turned from me and onto Guillaume. Listening to their interplay, I finally began to understand why Guillaume would have hated having anything to do with this woman.

I will also admit that I had thought that her reputation for being difficult was rather unfair, but then I saw what she could be like. The two of us did our best to ignore her except to answer any genuine questions.

We dropped her off at the guardhouse directly inside the city gates, the place where they perform the customs inspections on any goods that come in to Beauclair by land, with orders to escort the lady to the palace. I didn’t envy those men what they were going to be in for. But they had the look of that particular kind of unimaginative professional, like the guards at the palace, that always warms the hearts of people like Kerrass. The kinds of people that don’t ask questions andwho always follow orders to the letter without argument. I had no doubt that if it became necessary, they would restrain and gag Lady Gaumont to get her up to the palace.

We had been meaning to take her to the palace ourselves, but it got to the point where we could no longer cope with listening to her constant questioning of our manhoods, intelligence and virtue as well as questioning the matters of our health. Especially when it came to matters of the various kinds of pox that she implied that we had. Up to including some of those diseases that I have never heard of. And I studied medicine for a while.

After we had dropped her off, we led our horses a little bit further down the way and I bought a skin of wine for the pair of us to drink, but mostly for Guillaume to drink. He had the look of a man that needed a drink. Then I told him what I had found and led him to the Imperial Embassy.

As has been mentioned previously, Toussaint is a part of Nilfgaard, but because of POLITICS and BUREAUCRACY, they are nominally allowed to call themselves an independent nation. Because of this reason, the Nilfgaardians have their own embassy next to the river in this grand old building that must once have been some kind of official residence of… someone. It had the feeling of a building that had been put into place for the view and the situation before the city of Beauclair had expanded to surround and swallow the building whole.

It was also an imposing building. Surrounded as it was by armed and armoured Knights of Nilfgaard. Their black place with Golden highlights as well as the Golden Sun emblazoned across the chest, gleaming in the winter sunlight. Those men must be freezing in all that metal, standing still in these kinds of temperatures. I have often wondered if there is some kind of training that goes into this kind of thing, in order to help get people to be able to stand tall and straight without moving, regardless of any other environmental concern.

As I watched, for example, I could see a street child pulling faces up at one of the huge, imposing and forbidding Knights. Another woman was having her picture painted next to one of them, posing as if he was some long lost lover, pining away for the man in the armour. I later saw that picture displayed, well drawn with the armoured Knight appearing to fade away with the lover staring after him forlornly. The picture was titled “Love lost to Duty, as it must be.” I found it an incredibly melancholy piece.

Guillaume and I walked up to the entrance and past the entrance guards before walking up to the front desk where an attractive but forbidding looking woman sat behind it. She was a stark contrast to all the ladies that I had been spending time around over the last few weeks. In Toussaint, they emphasise their femininity with long, free flowing hair and dresses that accentuate shape and, in more pleasant clime, also show a little flesh.

This woman had none of those things. Dark blonde hair that was tied back in a severe plat that fell down her back in such a way that it didn’t move. I had an insane thought that if she spun around really quickly then her hair would act like a whip. She wore no make-up that I could see and her dress was dark, severe and covered her from the neck down. The only decorations were the white ruff around the neck and a large pendant of the golden sun that hung low from around her neck.

There were a couple of small boys nearby wearing black tabards of the Golden sun, identical haircuts and identical expressions of careful ignorance so that they could easily forget what was happening. I took them to be pages and runners.

As we walked in, she looked up from the note that she was writing and gave the pair of us a big smile that dismissed her cold exterior and as far as I could tell, the smile was a genuine one.

“Good morning Gentlemen, or is it good afternoon yet?” She began in the same kind of small talk banter that desk people are trained to produce at the drop of a hat.

“It could go either way.” I told her, answering her smile with one of my own. Such things are contagious and I always find that a smile is best answered with another smile.

Her smile broadened a little as she realised that I was perfectly up for playing the game and that I wasn’t hear to make a complaint, scream, shout, or any of the other headaches that cross the desk of a woman in this kind of position.

“How can the greater Empire of Nilfgaard help you today.”

“I am here to see the Ambassador, or whichever one of his staff is available please.”

“I see, do you have an appointment?” She reached for a large appointment book and started scanning it. All a show of course. People like this already know the appointment schedule off by heart.

“No, we don’t.”

“I see, may I ask what you need to see them about?”

“Certainly. My friend and I are investigating matters pertaining to the recent spate of murders that have been taking place in Beauclair recently and our enquiries have led us here.”

“I see.” Her attitude cooled slightly. “As I’m sure you are aware sirs, the Nilfgaardian embassy is Nilfgaardian soil and as such, the Knights of Saint Francesca or their representatives, have no authority here.”

“I agree.” I said. “However, something happened in the square in front of the embassy and we were hoping that someone might have seen something that would help with our enquiries.”

“I am afraid that such information would be kept confidential.” Her smile was definitely cooling now.

“I quite understand.” I told her. “However, I must insist that you call someone who can answer my questions. I appreciate that you are just doing your job, however there are matters here that are rather confidential and as such, it is vital that I speak to someone in authority.”

There are several tricks to this kind of negotiation. First of all, remember that it, whatever “it” may be, is not the fault of the person facing you across the desk. They are just doing their job to the best of their ability. And what their job is, is to deal with the everyday bullshit that needs to be kept off their superiors desk. Superiors tend to like a quiet life after all. However, what this means is that there is always a subtle rivalry happening between the two parties. This woman, undoubtedly chosen for her looks, her charm, her intelligence and her ability to cut the wheat from the hay, was given a set of rules to enforce, no matter what the cost. But she also knew that if she called down her superior to deal with the problem, she would suddenly find her authority undercut and that those rules that she was following so diligently, were not quite as rigid as she had been led to believe. At which time, she will be undercut, overruled and dismissed. All so that the superior can enjoy a quiet life.

So the trick is to be gentle, to be calm, to know what you’re talking about and get these people on your side. Because if you have the person on the front desk on your side then they will fight for you to the bitter end. Often producing results that will take your breath away. But if you stick your heels in then you will be astonished at the number of ways these people can find to make your life hell.

In this case, there was a problem. I knew she couldn’t deal with it. She knew she couldn’t deal with it. So I took the problem off her desk and insisted that she made it someone else’s problem. She was more than happy to agree. She summoned a page and started to write a note.

“May I ask your names?” She asked politely.

We answered and her eyes widened as she looked at me. Then she nodded and added the information to the messenger slate. Summoned a page with a crooked finger and whispered something to the boy who scampered off.

“If you gentlemen would like to take a seat,” she went on, pointing over to the corner where some comfortable looking seats rested against the wall. “And I will have some refreshments brought out.”

“Thank you.” I said.

The other thing to remember about these kinds of reception workers is that they know everything. They have to so they know how to deal with everyone that comes through the door at any time. They need to be able to address Kings and Queens all the way down to the lowliest, forgive me, peasant and they need to recognise why that’s important. Whereas those people that live in the offices have specialised knowledge that means that they miss things.

This was perfectly proven when the supervisor showed up after keeping us waiting for twenty minutes.

“Yes sir, what seems to be the problem.”

Now, we meet the bureaucrat. These are the men and women that the nations of the continent run on. The world would not exist without their input and they are vital to the running of things. They are the rule keepers, the book keepers and the guardians of time and process.

And they hate you.

They are almost always unfriendly, unkind and bitter. Because they made a mistake early in their career which was to be good at their job. So good in fact that they became impossible to replace as they were the only ones that know where all the files and bits of paper go. So they will never progress, they will never become more than they are and so they stay, bored to tears, in that same position. Hating the people below them for being younger and more ambitious than them. But also hating those people above them for being unable to recognise their genius. I have known very many of these kinds of people as well.

As a perfect example, when hunting for Francesca, Kerrass and I came across the head of the messenger service in Beauclair. A man who read us the riot act and insisted that he was right and refusing to help us. He was a man like this one. I have met them many times. Innkeepers and landlords. Notice that I do not say barmen. If an Innkeeper or Landlord works behind the bar then they need to be friendly and charming. But if they work elsewhere in an office, then…

Customs inspectors. University secretaries. The woman that ran our accommodation when I first arrived in Oxenfurt. So very many of them. The problem being that they have a tendency to overreach and get caught out.

And this one hadn’t done his research.

“Hello,” I said. “My name is Lord Frederick Coulthard. I want to speak to someone who can tell us about something that happened in the square a few days ago.”

He smiled the kind of a smirk that just makes you want to wipe it off his face with your fist. It was the superiority of that smile. It tells you that he is a benign and gentle person that doesn’t really have time to see to the petty wants of whoever comes along, but he is giving up the valuable heartbeats of his life in order to tell you how stupid you are.

He even clasped his hands together.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that you are wasting your time. We do not keep such records as that.”

I laughed at him.

“I’m sure that there is no need for that kind of....” He tried.

I noticed that the desk lady was watching the interaction with care, focus and a certain restrained pleasure. She knew exactly who I was and I think she knew what was coming.

His face reddened as my laughter increased.

“Calmly restrain yourself.” He said. “Or you will be asked to leave. What gives you the right to…”

There are moments in life that you cherish. A first kiss, the first time you overcome your fear and leap into the lake from the rock, the first time you ride a galloping horse. Not the loss of my virginity, that was awkward, uncomfortable and over far too quickly. But the first time I made love properly and clicked with a partner.

And now there would be this one.

“My name is Lord Frederick von Coulthard.” I produced my Imperial Warrant from a pocket. I don’t normally carry it with me and I have never used it. I brought it to Toussaint on a whim. “And I am an adopted brother of the Empress Cirilla Elen Fiona Rhiannon.”

He gaped a few times… Examining the paper.

“A… A forgery.” He stuttered.

Guillaume, who had seen which way the wind was blowing, stepped up next to me and went to strike him across the face. He was deliberately slow though so that the burocrat could avoid the blow.

“HOW DARE YOU SIR.” Guillaume roared. “How dare you accuse the Lord Frederick of such a crime. I demand to know the name of your… No…” A guard entered to see what the fuss was about. “You.” Guillaume demanded. “Give this man a sword and I shall see him outside immediately.”

Another, much older gentleman appeared from a side door and pulled the unfortunate man aside. Now I noticed that the desk lady had been joined by her friends. The new man examined my warrant and nodded. “We apologise for the delay Your Grace. Please follow me.”

Guillaume and I were led into the embassy and up the stairs.

When I was more sure that we were alone with this new man I mumbled “Your Grace?”

The man shrugged. “At some point, some expert in heraldry is going to decide what you and your siblings titles should be. “Your Grace” seemed fitting enough for the time and the circumstance.”

He led us into an office. It was the kind of room that gladdened my heart to see it. At one point, it would have been opulent and well appointed. The furniture would have been expensive, hand-carved and luxurious. The art and what ornamental decoration that there was was old, subdued and tasteful, if a little martial and austere for my taste. But what it was, was heavily used.

There was a fireplace, roaring with flame and emanating heat into the room. Next to it were a pair of comfortable, well worn looking armchairs with the leather coverings being cracked, stained and worn. There were shelves lining the walls that were jammed solid with papers, books, files and scrolls. The desk was much more ordered, if complex looking. Mostly there were tools. A magnifying glass, an expensive looking quill, some ink, wax and a candle.

There was a large table with a number of chairs arranged roughly evenly, but hadn’t been pushed back in an orderly fashion. People had just risen from their seats and left it there. The table was scuffed with cup marks and other scratches.

I loved it. This was a working room. This was a room where people ate at their desks, worked far too late into the night next to the fire and drank far too many stimulants from too hot cups. It was a room of meetings, paperwork and comfortable debating of serious topics that have no clear solution.

“Have the two of you had… what time is it?” He checked an hourglass. “Have you had lunch?”

“We have not.” I replied, following Kerrass’ advice again. And to be fair, Guillaume had not had any soup.

He nodded, “Please take a seat at the table and I shall find us something to eat and the man that you need to talk to. I am well aware of your habits though Lord Frederick and I must ask that you not look at any of the books or scan any of the paperwork. There is the very real possibility that you would see something that would force us into having you killed.” He smiled, enjoying the humour while also being absolutely serious.

“Fair enough.” I responded, grinning with the humour of the moment as he left.

A short while later an armed man came in with a large pot that was steaming and a tray containing cups, a bowl and a small jug.

“Coffee gentlemen?” he enquired, setting his load down.

I took the tray off him and poured, passing some over to Guillaume.

“Sandwiches will be along shortly.” He told us before leaving.

The older man returned first. “Lord Frederick.” He said, holding out his hand to be shaken which I accepted. “So good to finally meet you. Sir Guillaume.” He offered his hand to the Knight who took it.

He reminded me of an old professor. The kind of person on the edge of retirement but still vigorous and refusing to budge. There was a spark in his eye that seemed to defy his obvious age. He was upright of posture but his hair was closely cut and white. He also wore a pair of rimmed magnifiers on the end of his nose, attached around his neck with a chain and he had a habit of peering over the top of them and blinking at me with a slight smile. The lines on his face were deeply etched with care and humour while his rich black robes were cut and made for warmth rather than elegance.

“Please forgive the heat.” He told us as he pulled up a chair, seemingly at random. “I am from the southern part of the Empire originally which is even warmer than here. Winter is more beautiful, but it comes with a cold that can shatter my old bones.”

He grinned.

“As I say though, so good to finally meet you Lord Frederick. My name is Jos Vecken, deputy chief of staff to the Ambassador.”

“I am very pleased to meet you.” I told him politely.

“Tell me, did you know that Lord Voorhis has offered a handsome reward to anyone that recruits you to the Imperial Intelligence service after you stop your wandering?”

“I did not know that.”

“That’s a shame. I don’t suppose you would consider it?” He asked hopefully. “I will split the proceeds with you.”

I chuckled. “I have considered it and the answer is no. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being suspicious of everyone and everything. I’ve done that and the twisty way that my brain has to work is far from pleasant.”

“But so stimulating.” He said, answering my chuckle with one of his own. “I told Morvran that you wouldn’t be interested, but he insisted and continues to insist.”

“He is more interested in having me try to control the Empress I think.”

He snorted his opinion of that. “And he will fail. I’ve met the woman for thirty-six heartbeats when she was touring the Empire to learn about the place that she would rule. She will only be controlled when she wants to be controlled, wants to give the impression that she is being controlled, or doesn’t care enough to do anything else. Any situation where those things come up strike me as being exceedingly dangerous. Ah, here we are, and while we eat, maybe you could tell me how the Empire can be of service to you.”

A large pot was brought in, from which a rich, meaty smell rose and another servant brought in a tray of bread rolls that were stuffed with meat. A third, armed, servant brought a set of bowls, cutlery and side plates as well as a small pot of yellow paste containing some small seeds.

“They do many delicious cured meats in Toussaint.” Mr Vecken told us seriously. “One of the many reasons that it is a boon to be stationed in Beauclair. However, your people have yet to properly appreciate the combination of those meats with some proper grainy mustard. Chicken soup as well and our kitchen makes a soup so good that it will cure the common cold, put hairs on your chest, lift your prick from slumber and wake the dead.”

He seized a sandwich, opened it, smeared an eye watering amount of the mustard on it, dipped it in a bowl of the soup and ate with relish.

“Now what can I do for you.”

Guillaume set to and dished me out some soup as I talked. While doing so, I could see the Nilfgaardian’s eyes gleaming as he ate his food with a speed and relish that would have resulted in my being yelled at by my sister if I had eaten at that speed.

He nodded and took a sandwich over to a particular shelf, from which he took down a large leatherbound book which was then carried with both hands, sandwich clamped in his teeth, towards the desk where he opened it and started scanning entries as he chewed.

“What day was this?” He wondered aloud with his mouth full.

“The day before the day before yesterday.” I told him.

“So, three days ago.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “The day before Lady Marie Tratamara was killed.”

“Yes, sad business.” He took another bite from his sandwich. “Ah, here we go. MIKAEL.” The last name was shouted and a slightly younger man came in almost immediately with a slate and a piece of chalk poised. “Find Weidenmann and tell him to come here immediately. He needs to clarify a report that he made.”

The young man nodded, scrawling a note on the slate before leaving and closing the door behind him.

“Yes,” Jos told us. “Yes, Lady Moineau was out in the square that day. The report says that she hovered among the market stalls for a long while in “a state of agitation,” whatever that means.” He sniffed and took another huge bite out of his sandwich. “Then she marched across the square like a woman walking to meet the headsman and stood next to the stone railing over the river. She was there for a couple of minutes before she was met by a younger woman with reddish, blonde hair… heh… slim and beautiful it says here, but of poorer mode of dress. The two spoke for a while before Lady Moineau left in… a huff. The other woman waited around for a while, looked around the market stalls and bought a couple of pointless items before heading off.”

“Doesn’t tell us much.” Guillaume commented. He was red faced having put a little bit too much mustard on his meat.

Jos smiled at him, “Hopefully Weidenmann will be able to tell us more. Ah, here he is.”

An older soldier came into the room. He was dressed down in his tabard and trews, obviously a little more used to the colder climate than our immediate host. He wore his hair close to his scalp which I took for being an ease of helmet thing and his sword was worn and well used.

“You wanted to see me sir?” He asked Jos, ignoring Guillaume and I.

“These gentlemen would like to ask you some questions about what you saw a few days ago. Specifically regarding the meeting between Lady Moineau and..” He cleared his throat and read from his book. “A slim, beautiful young woman with reddish hair.” He grinned at the soldier who sighed.

“I don’t know what I can add that isn’t in the report sirs.” He told us. “Lady Moineau was in some agitation. I thought she was nervous to my eyes. They met, the…” His eyes flicked towards Jos briefly before returning to me. I pretended not to notice. “The other lady was there in advance, seeming to enjoy the view and the people around the place. They talked for a while, during which time Lady Moineau seemed to get less agitated and more scared and angry before she abruptly stormed off.”

“In a huff.” Jos teased.

“Yes sir.”

“What did the other woman do?” I asked.

“She watched Lady Moineau leave… I think she looked sad for a moment, before she turned, bought a few things from the market stalls and left.”

“What was the body language like between the two women? Did they know each other?”

“I don’t think so sir. Lady Moineau looked right at the other woman without registering when she first came to the square.”

“But the other woman knew Lady Moineau?”

“Yes sir. She saw Lady Moineau immediately when she came to the rail and approached.”

I nodded and pretended to consider things.

“And who was the other woman again?” I asked, watching carefully. He nearly replied, nearly, his jaw twitched but he clamped down on it ruthlessly.

“Thank you Weidenmann.” Jos told him. The soldier fled.

“Unkind Lord Frederick, unkind. Putting a soldier on the spot like that.”

“So who was she?” I asked him. “And let's not insult each other by pretending that you don’t know who she is. Nor even that you don’t know the names of every person that uses one of the market stalls outside the embassy and even more that you already have in your payroll. You know exactly who she was.”

I took a bite out of my own sandwich. The cured meat really was quite delicious and he was right, the mustard really did complement the pungent, tasty meat.

The Nilfgaardian, just for a moment, looked as though he was going to lose his temper before he grinned and shook his head. “I had been warned that you were a sharp one Lord Frederick. So sharp that you nearly cut me.” He took out a piece of slate and scribbled something on it, referring from the log book which he then closed, before moving to another shelf where he took down a much larger book. He flicked through the pages, occasionally referring to the slate in his hand before he came to a page and ran his finger down the entries.

“Ah yes, here she is. Lady Caroline Vasseur. Seventeen years old, youngest daughter of Count Vasseur.”

Guillaume shifted in his seat.

“I can see,” Jos began carefully. “That your companion knows the name. I will let him fill you in on the matter.”

I nodded and rose to my feet. “Thank you for the soup Sir Vecken. It really was delicious. Although I think a milder mustard is more suited to me.”

He laughed and we shook hands. “You are quite welcome Lord Frederick. And please, forgive the matter at reception.”

“It is already forgotten Sir Vecken. I am well aware of how these things work. Thank you for your help.”

“Come back and have dinner some time. You can tell me tales of your adventures and I can convince you to come work for us.”

“Never going to happen.”

We laughed the slightly fake laugh of people that barely know each other and left.

We were met by one of those interchangeable armed guard-servants who led us back through the embassy to the entrance way. Not that I would have spoken anyway in the presence of someone else, but I could see that Guillaume was thinking furiously. We arrived at the foyer where the receptionist met us with a slightly friendlier version of the impersonal greeting smile that we had initially been met with and I waved to her.

Always does well to make friends with these people. You never know when you might need their help at a future date.

“Gentlemen.” The Guard said. “Can you find your way from here?” Which I translated in my head as being “I have other, more important shit to be doing, but I also don’t trust the average visitor here to pick their own nose without hurting themselves.”

Guillaume was still thinking so I nodded at the man and thanked him.

In the meantime, Guillaume walked over to the receptionist and I followed in time to see him turn on the charm, enough that his smile hit the lady in the face with all the subtlety of a runaway grain wagon.

Many many times, as the male of the species, I have been struck dumb by the awesome beauty of the lady in who’s company I find myself. I am privileged to be marrying one of those ladies but I can well remember how it works when the more civilised parts of my brain just seem to shut down. I have never seen that look replicated in the eyes of a woman when she looks at me and I sometimes still regret it. I have seen a certain delighted satisfaction in the reaction that they have caused in me though…

Which is fair enough.

Kerrass seems to inspire a strange kind of fascination. He is handsome but in a rough and ready, wildman kind of way. Then people, not just women, see his yellow eyes and become thoughtful. I can normally tell the difference between those women that become fascinated by what they see and those that will be repulsed by it.

But it is much more rare to see that moment when a lady sees a handsome, dare I say beautiful, man and their own brain burns out for just a moment. I am secure in my love for Ariadne and the love that she holds for me, but I still know jealousy.

She giggled.

Guillaume asked for and received a piece of paper and the loan of a quill which he used to scribble a quick note before he thanked the lady sincerely and in a way to leave her blushing with frustrated romantic ardour before turning to leave. The situation was made worse by the fact that he promptly went outside and to one of the nearby stores that was selling carved, painted and perfumed roses. He bought a dozen and ordered them sent to the receptionist in gratitude, before buying another, larger arrangement and sent it to his wife.

Not for the first time, either with Toussaint in general or Guillaume in specific, I wondered if this was something he did for the manipulation of the thing to ensure that he had a route into the embassy for the future, or because he genuinely meant it.

I learned from his example and bought two bunches of flowers and ordered them delivered to the palace. One to Anne with another, much larger, bunch for Ariadne. I did consider buying a bunch for Emma, but decided that I wasn’t quite ready for that kind of gesture yet.

In the meantime, Guillaume had approached one of the patrolling guardsmen that were wandering around. Just keeping an eye on things, directing the odd person and being visible and obvious to discourage thieves and provide a sense of security. I followed so I missed the introduction.

“Take this note and deliver it into the hands of either Captain de la Tour or the hands of Commander Syanna. Into their hands only and ensure that they read it.”

The guard strode off and I waited for a moment as I considered my next question carefully.

“Alright.” I began. “Who the fuck is Caroline Vasseur and why is she important?”

He looked startled before his face relaxed. “You sometimes make it easy to forget that you were not born in Toussaint. Then you do something, or speak in a certain way so that it becomes clear that you come from the North.”

“Really?” I wondered. “I am that similar to the people of Toussaint?”

“In many ways actually. You have a romantic soul and you want everyone to be happy and in love.”

“What can I say?” I held my hands out in an elaborate shrug. “Toussaint is contagious.”

He grinned at that.

“It is one of those stories that everyone knows, but that no-one talks about.” He told me. “It is somewhat scandalous and this development casts a new light on things.”

“Alright.” I said, “Now you definitely need to tell me what is going on.”

“I will, but not here. Would it be fair to say that we need to find her?”

“I would say so. It would seem that she knows things that may be important.”

He nodded. “Then I shall tell you the story, but not until we have left the city. It does not pay to be a Knight of Saint Francesca and be spreading salacious gossip.”

“As I have said before, and fairly recently, Francesca loved gossip and the more salacious the gossip the better.”

He smiled at that. “But I am not a Knight of your sister Francesca, but of Saint Francesca, the symbol of innocence and purity in Toussaint.”

“You never met my sister did you.”

“No I didn’t. But I seem to recall that your own early works describe a flawless, perfect young girl that you all but idolised. Somewhat different from the lady you now describe.”

“I have changed a lot over the years.” I mused. “Yours is a, not unfair, observation. But with my greater age comes a certain amount of increased wisdom. And I look back at my memories of Frannie and I still see that perfect girl that I loved and still love with all my heart. But I also see the glint of mischief in her eye. The way she looked out at the world in amusement and glee.”

We collected our horses and Guillaume led us from the city. South this time. I did not have long to wait before Guillaume started to speak.

“The short version of the story is that Caroline Vasseur is commonly rumoured to be the Duchess’ bastard daughter from an early love affair.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “So if the girl is seventeen then that means that the Duchess…”

“Was still young. Very young, yes. Not so young that it was dangerous and I will admit that I have no idea how old the Duchess is or was. But that is the rumour.”

“You seem to be taking this rather calmly. I would have thought that there would be scandal, outrage.”

“Oh there is, or rather there was. But this is Toussaint and we think differently than you do. You need to remember that when I’m telling you about this kind of thing.” He grinned as he said it.

“Fair point and I shall take that on board.”

“We are a romantic people.” He sighed. “Here is the story. One of the fundamental things that you have to remember about Toussaint is exactly why the Duchess is so popular in the Duchy. The Knight Commander wants us to be able to stand outside of the situation and examine things as they really are rather than how we would like them to be. Sometimes that is easier said than done and one of those times is with regards to the Duchess herself. I am aware that she is arrogant, prideful and stubborn to the point that she has the potential to be actively harmful both to her nation, and to her people. I know this, but I also love my Duchess.”

The area to the south of Beauclair seemed to be made up of gently rolling hills, rising into a distant wooded area. There were lanes and small country roads everywhere and Guillaume took one of these roads.

“The reason we love the Duchess is because we hated the Duke, her now dead husband. And I mean that we really hated him. Her parents were not that much better although we only really knew about this afterwards and for the mess that they left the Duchess to clear up afterwards. The Ducal family only had daughters at the time. The eldest was a problem child…”

“Syanna?” I guessed.

“Correct. Given to nightmares, pranks and from what I understand, she had a bleak and destructive sense of humour. Only her younger sister could calm her, soothe her and get her to behave. So they made the younger sister a kind of nanny to the older. Eventually, we now know that Sylvia Anna, the eldest daughter was sent away in order to remove the fact that their eldest daughter was a problem. They could, instead, make Anna Henrietta heir and therefore, anyone that married her would become Duke and so it would be. Up until that point there was a very real worry that Sylvia Anna would turn into another Falka the Bloody.”

“Lovely image.”

“Eventually, they found their daughter a suitable suitor in the figure of Raymund. He was a lot like Alain is now. He was a hedonist at heart, but he could put a better front on it that Alain can which means that when he met the, now, ailing Duke and Duchess, he could present an acceptable front and persuaded them to give their little flower to him.

They were married with undue haste so that when the Duke died, power could be passed over easily and quickly and so now, Toussaint had a new Duke and Duchess and no-one could be happier than Duke Reymund.

“He was not particularly cruel to his people. There were high taxes but there are always high taxes. He drank and ate and adventured to the expense of his people but again, that is nothing new. But the thing that made us hate him was his treatment of his wife, our Duchess.

“As I say, he was a hedonist which meant food, wine, narcotics and women. As many women as he could find. It is rumoured that the reason that he would not spend time with his wife was because she was too young, at the time, and therefore too naive and innocent for his tastes. He wanted women in his bed that would feed his sense of adventure. The Duchess could not provide that so he looked elsewhere.

“Eventually, some would even say inevitably, the Duchess found a lover. Now I stress that this was only rumour at the time. Nothing was ever proven except in a dubious duel which we will get to in a moment. The Duchess has only ever had one open and acknowledged Paramour in the figure of Viscount Pankratz (Freddie: Professor Dandelion. I still don’t know where he’s a viscount of and I search almost every time I get a chance) which was the affair that caused the Duke to become ill with Apoplexy.”

“So there is no real proof that this earlier affair was the case.”

“None at all. So this might not be true. It might all be an invention of the court gossip of the time, there is some circumstantial evidence but all of that could easily be explained away by other circumstances.”

“Which you will get to.”

“I will. The first lover was Count Vasseur. He is a shadow of the man he was at the time now. Nowadays, he is stooped, injured and a pale wisp of a man. But at the time he was tall, handsome, charming, dark haired and utterly devoted to the Duchess. So much so that he was the Captain of her personal protection at the time. He was the kind of Knight that others aspired to be and would still be held up as an example except for the scandal that he became embroiled in.

“The Duchess was unhappy, we could all see it. Even those of us that were very young at the time. But she would often seek solitude to avoid the blatant proof that her husband was betraying her openly and often with as many women as he could find. She had hoped that she would become pregnant quickly and so be able to bind him to her a little more closely. But it would seem that he would not spend enough time around her for this to be successful.

“So she would ride around, plainly unhappy and weeping. So naturally, she became a figure of romantic longing for all and sundry in Toussaint. We all, even those of us who were so young that we would not have known what to do, wanted to find her sitting under a tree nearby and to take away her pain, even for just a little while.

“At the time, it was well known, on an international scale, that the Duke was unpopular. So there were quite a few Knights that were reassigned to other duties. Namely preventing foreign agents from subverting the wine production and interrupting the cash flow. Count Vasseur refused. Insisting that the safety of the Duchess was paramount and his first duty.”

Guillaume shifted in his saddle. I guessed that we were coming to the crux of the matter.

“So the rumour is, that at some point during their many wanderings around Toussaint, where they would often stay in inns, or in farmhouses where the Duchess got to know, and earn the love of her people, that the Duchess and Count Vasseur became lovers.”

He paused there, just for a moment, as though he was waiting for me to ask a question. He even seemed disappointed that I didn’t.

“There was certainly a while after that where the Duchess’ spirits seemed to perk up and she seemed happier than she ever had before. Walking around with a spring in her step and a song in her heart. Vannier never left her side during this period. The charitable say that he acted like a caring older brother or young father, whereas the less charitable suggested that he was watching her in the same way that a lover watches the girl that he considers his property. I cannot speak to that on the grounds that I didn’t really see it, nor would I have recognised it even if I did.

“Then the Duchess went travelling. She travelled North and visited with some of the other more prominent female rulers, in theory to cement good relations and trade dealings. She supposedly met with Queens Meve and Calanthe before coming back south and meeting some of the more prominent members of the growing Imperial Court. Again, some say that this was a perfectly valid and reasonable state visit. The less than entirely charitable say that this time was spent so that she could have the pregnancy come to term without her husband knowing about it.

“Not that he would have noticed. He was too busy sharing his bed with whoever he came across. There is even a better than even chance that he might have even thought it was his.

“What is certain is that Vasseur went with her. When they came back was when the trouble started. The Duchess was more popular than ever. No-one could prove that the Duchess had been unfaithful to the Duke and so the Duke’s allies, of which there were some…”

“There are always allies to cruel men. It means that cruel people can enjoy their own sense of sadistic cruelty.”

“Too true alas. But the Duke’s allies found that they couldn’t make the charges of adultery stick. They had no proof that the Duchess had been improper, there were no witnesses and although certain people tried to spread the rumour that the Duchess’ trip was to conceal a pregnancy, agents were sent and none of them could find any evidence of the birth at all. No midwives, no herbalists, no Sorceresses and no witnesses. There was, or so I’m told, even a reward offered for any information. But they couldn’t find anything”

“So they turned on Vannier?”

“So they turned on Vannier.” Guillaume agreed. “It is actually the basis of a lot of courtly theory in this part of the world. The Duke’s allies were well aware that the Duchess was becoming stronger with every passing day. Her popularity with the common folk was already extraordinary and every second that she was not under the power of the Duke, she became even more popular. She became the defiant, betrayed woman and increasingly, she was taking more and more power away from the bureaucrats. Negotiating trade deals and setting laws and things. No-one wanted to listen to the Duke because the only way that he could be found, generally speaking, was by going to the brothel or finding which eligible lady was at the palace without her husband.

“So they hatched a plot to remove the pillar of strength that they believed the Duchess was leaning on. They found the best Duellist that they could in their faction and ordered him to insult Count Vannier, saying that his behaviour towards her was improper and accusing him of assaulting her virtue. Count Vannier, of course, answered this with a challenge and the duellist, who would never have stood up to Vannier in a joust or a proper fight. Got to set the terms of the Duel and, essentially, dissected the Count with a sabre. According to my uncle and other eye-witnesses of the time, it really was a grim and grisly spectacle. Only brought to a halt because the Duchess instructed Vannier to yield on this matter.

“So for him, that was it. The Duchess telling Vannier to stop absolved her of any impropriety, even though the charge was not really against her in the first place. But the rules of Duelling in Toussaint say that once the duel is over, then the matter is resolved.”

“There are similar rules throughout the north when an honour duel is won. The winner is correct. So if a man declares that the sky is bright orange and wins the duel that says otherwise, then the sky is orange and that is that.”

“We do have more in common with some of our northern neighbours than some of us would like to think.” Guillaume agreed. “Vannier retreated into exile, a crippled and broken man, old before his time. His fortunes took a turning for the worst as no-one would buy his goods or his wine because he was the man that had assaulted the Duchess and made her life miserable and so he became, all but destitute. He didn’t starve, he was still popular among the common folk who found him a nice little cottage to live in and took care of him. The Duchess also saw that he had at least some comforts even if he could not live to his former means.

“He was brought out at parties. He would be invited to these things, often only so that people could point and laugh at him. A factor that he took with his normal grace and good humour. And then one day, he arrived with a young girl that he introduced as his daughter. And that was where the rumours really started to take off.

“She was a beautiful girl and is growing into a beautiful young woman. She shares the reddish blonde hair colour of the Duchess. She has Vannier’s eyes, but the shape of the girls face and her natural carriage is so similar to the Duchess to be uncanny.

“It’s all explainable of course. Since the Duke’s death, Vannier’s disgrace has lessened as the sycophants that saw to his downfall left to pursue their own goals in other places where they are more welcome than they would be here. The Duchess does not visit with the Count, but she is not invisible either and it is easy to imagine that the girl sees someone that she looks like and seeks to emulate the beautiful, powerful woman that stands before her.

“It’s also more than likely that Vannier was more than a little bit in love with the Duchess at the time, after all, who wasn’t. I was and I was just shy of ten years old at the time and couldn’t have told you what love meant. So it has been suggested…”

“By the same charitable people?”

He grinned. “The very ones. It has been suggested that it’s also possible that Vannier loved the Duchess and found a nice peasant girl that looked enough like the Duchess to feed his fantasies and it was her that produced the child. But regardless, the daughter was introduced to the world and to the court.”

“Has she, or her father, ever made any kind of claim to the Ducal throne?”

“No. Nor do I believe that it will ever come up. Vannier would not and has publicly stated that his daughter was his own and the product of an uncomfortable liaison with a common lady who died in childbirth, and the girl is too good and kind-hearted to allow herself to be used in such a way. The Duchess has, as far as I know, only ever met the girl in passing. But her education has been paid for out of the Duchess’ private accounts. “Out of fondness for her injured friend”.”

“Which only feeds the fires of rumour.”

“As you say.”

“Does anyone know who the Duchess’ heir is?”

“Not for certain. I had always believed that it would be Syanna.”

“I doubt that.” I told him. “Too many people still remember the Night of the Long Fangs.”

I sucked at my lower lips.

“So the Duchess has a hidden, illegitimate child…”

“She might be legitimate now.” GUillaume said. “It has been a number of years and the pair could have married in secret, or the Duchess could have ordered it so.”

“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. But this throws a different twist on things.”

“Do you think it’s important?”

“I should say so. A plot that involves the missing heir to the Ducal throne. That’s the sort of thing that could really shake things up.”

“But she’s not the heir.”

“As far as we know.”

We rode in silence for a short while.

“Do you think it’s true?” He said. “How likely is it?”

“I don’t think it matters.” I told him. “People will believe it. And for the conspirators, then that belief makes it powerful. If enough people believe that it is true, then it becomes the truth in the eyes of the public and there is nothing that you, ro I, or anyone can do to stop it.”

I took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from my forehead. This certainly put a new and unpleasant spin on things.

“These people are clever, or at least one of them is. The mastermind at least. They will know, even if no-one else does, that it doesn’t matter what the truth is. If enough people believe it then they will be able to invent their own truths. And all of a sudden, they have a new, young, beautiful, eligible duchess on their hands. They will use that to take control.” A thought occurred to me. “How would you take control of a young and beautiful girl?”

Guillaume saw where I was going with this.

“They will seduce her and marry her. They will bend her to their will.”

We considered this, watching the lands of Toussaint rolling underneath our horses hooves.

“But they are failing.” I pointed out suddenly. “She tried to warn Lady Moineau that she was a target.”

“We don’t know that.” Guillaume said, “not for certain. The warning could have come from someone else. But I agree that it fits all the facts. Do they know that they are betrayed, do you think?”

“They might?”

“So we need to find her.”

“We do. We need to know what she knows and how she came to know it. She is involved in this somehow, possibly against her will if she was warning a stranger about it.”

“I hope so, she’s a nice girl. The kind that you hope your child brings home to meet you.”

“You don’t have any children Guillaume.” I pointed out.

“Not yet.” He said with a little relish. ”But hopefully we will be able to soon.”

(A/N: Chapter got a little out of hand so I am cutting it a little short here. Lots of exposition, sorry. There will be some more action in the next chapter, I promise. Also, I’ve been the desk person who was given a series of rules that ABSOLUTELY MUST BE FOLLOWED AT EVERY TIME until a customer yelled loud enough to summon the middle manager who then ordered me to break the rules. I’ve been the middle manager whose job was to keep things off the desk of the real manager because the real manager would not yell at them, but yell at me. And I’ve been the real manager who had to ensure that I had to keep the customers business at all costs, sometimes to the detriment of others. It all sucked, but at the time, it was that or starve. I am grateful, every day, that I am no longer part of that corporate culture. So this chapter is dedicated to all my brothers and sisters that serve in customer facing roles. Whether you want to be there or not. Stand tall and stay safe out there folks)