They stayed at Hollowstone for almost a fortnight. During that time, Jean was kept busy attending to matters of state, and setting things right in his Umbrian territories before they could depart back to Velois.
Vero wanted to stay near to him, now that she was free from her sickbed. She observed him at his business, although she remained aware that she must be careful not to risk violating her order’s code.
His main concerns were to repair the damage done in the rebellion, to restore law and order by securing garrisons in the recalcitrant provinces, and to develop the road and bridge network connecting the region to the main body of his demesne in Velois. His policy priorities came in that order, and Vero approved- although she refrained from offering him any opinions on the matter. Their relationship was personal and professional, but it could never be political.
Occasionally, Vero found some labor in the hospital or overseeing safe disposal of the unclaimed dead. However, perhaps a testament to Jean’s efficient leadership, there was soon very little for her to do. When their business in Hollowstone was concluded, they began the long trek back towards Velois and home.
The mercenaries had been paid and departed their company already, making the camp feel much less crowded now that the campaign was over. The mélange of foreign languages was reduced to only Velian, with a small minority of Umbiran.
As they traveled back the way they had come, Vero put down some gibbering dead who had been neglected after previous battles. There were few enough of them, and they lacked the intelligence to prove a genuine threat against even a half-lame slayer.
She also investigated some reports of hauntings, but these could all be attributed to more mundane causes. Vero gave the peasants a simple prayer in Liturgical and told them to repeat it every evening to calm their minds, and then to send a message if things got worse.
At night, she and Jean always went to bed together in the same fashion. Antoinette would undress Vero first, and she would climb under the blankets. Then Antoinette would leave and Jean would enter. His squire would undress him and Vero would avert her eyes, stealing only the occasional subtle glance when she believed it would go unnoticed.
Then the squire would go and they would read some of the love books Vero had set aside. They would discuss all the things they wished to do with – and to – one another, and caress each other until they were both satisfied. However, they never became more physically intimate with one another than they had on that first night.
More than once Vero had tried to push things farther, but everything always seemed to become a kind of cataclysm each time she made the attempt. The fear would start in her chest, then spread all through her until she had completely closed in on herself.
Jean simply refused to just force everything to happen, no matter how she insisted. He only held her, whispering that they had all the time in the world.
But how long would a such a great prince truly remain interested in a mistress so constantly lost in her own turmoil? The danger would only increase when they returned to Velois and were surrounded by so many women much fairer than she.
Sometimes Vero tried to silence her anxiety with alcohol, but that only made things worse. The tears would begin and she would find herself revealing all the most vile and loathsome things about herself. The things that she ought to have kept hidden from everyone, and all the more hidden from someone she wished so desperately to convince to love her.
By all rights, Jean should have known that he would do better to send her away as quickly as possible. Instead, he only kept her in his arms, and continued to whisper all the same soft lies Vero could not keep herself from clutching at.
As they traveled, they made occasional stops at the larger settlements, but they made steady progress towards the border and Kaer Longus. The camp had trickled away the few remaining Umbrians as they went. As much as she loathed his presence, Vero feared that the earl of that evil tower would be one of them, and thus escape justice for what he had done.
She was relieved when Jean informed her that he had placed the Earl of Kaer Longus under discreet house arrest within the camp. The blackguard would be accompanying them all the way back to Jean’s estate, with a few others whom Jean also intended to arrest, once his cousin and other Velian allies had departed.
Jean wanted to be sure that he directly controlled the only fighting men nearby when he moved against them. Even if it proved to be an unpopular decision, he could simply present the whole matter as a fait accompli.
Vero was satisfied. She only smiled slyly at the bastard when the Earl sat beside Father Ignacio at dinner with his martyred expression, consulting sorrowfully with the sun priest. He knew that he was caught in the trap now, and that was good enough for the time being.
It was cloudy the day that they passed the ruined tower, and the visibility was too poor to see it. For that, she was glad.
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They spent their first night back in Velois in the sleepy motte and baily castle town of Greenvale. The community was a small one, but many minor nobles from across the Fer-Mark had come to win favor by greeting Jean on his return to their homeland. Because of that, the castle was already full to bursting when they arrived.
The atmosphere was a jolly one, and Vero was glad to hear that they would stay for a few days before pressing on. The only dark cloud was the recent news that the newly appointed Earl of Hollowstone had fallen ill a few days after they left.
Jean had purchased new hunting birds and organized a hawking expedition for their first day there. Vero had experience hunting rabbits with snares or a crossbow, but she had never used a raptor bird before and she was excited to try.
Their hunting party all assembled at breakfast, and several female courtiers had joined them. Vero was relieved to see that she would not be the only woman in their company, even if she was rather intimidated by the beauty of some. Unfortunately, she soon discovered that half of the women must have come with their own designs on Jean, because they treated her with unrestrained jealousy. The other half had more moderate aspirations, and treated her with unrestrained flattery- which they always made certain to let Jean overhear.
The whole business made Vero’s head spin, and she took care from then on to avoid anyone but Jean and Antoinette.
After breakfast, Jean introduced Vero to the coy looking and broad-winged red hawk he had bought for her. Mama taught her how to whisper to animals when she was a girl, but she had not done so often since- except to quiet angry guard dogs. Fortunately, it was a general rule that trained animals used to working with humans were much easier to communicate with than wild beasts. It did not take her long to establish a repartee with the bird and make herself understood.
Jean watched her with great interest. “You know the secret of speaking with animals?”
“Whispering isn’t exactly the same as speaking- it’s difficult to explain to someone who’s never done it before. But I know how to communicate simple things with some animals, yes.”
“Fascinating. I’m familiar with the practice in principle, but I’ve always been told the skill is very rare.”
“Among university trained wizards it is. Mama said it’s because they only like reading and lecturing, but hate to listen. Most of the wisewomen I’ve met could at least speak with domesticated animals. I myself learned to whisper with a coop full of hens and a milk cow.”
“Could you teach me?”
“With enough time, I’m sure. Mama said that children could learn easier than adults, and that men had more trouble because whispering is traditionally a woman’s art. But I know that some proper wizards have learned how to do it, so it can’t be impossible. It’s easier to work with animals that trust you. I’m sure in a few weeks – or months, maybe – I could teach you some simple ways to communicate with your warhorse. ‘Are you hungry?’ ‘Thirsty?’ ‘Sick?’ Simple questions such as that.”
“Hm, that could be a useful trick. A shame that it sounds too esoteric to teach to an entire cavalry company, that could be a tremendous advantage.”
“It’s for the best. I’m not sure I would be allowed to teach a whole cavalry company.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Slayers are outside of the law. If our hunt requires us to break the law of a mortal realm then we do so, and under old Imperial legal custom we’re immune to prosecution.”
“We keep to the old Imperial law in the Fer-Mark, for the most part. But I’ve never heard of that legal custom before.”
“Few have, today. Since the Imperium receded, we were impersonated by many charlatans who took advantage of our legal immunity. Few magistrates now recognize our rights. But they are valid,” she assured him. “In exchange, we are forbidden to ever engage in politics or to act as a law enforcer.”
“Did your mission in Kaer Longus not violate this rule?”
“No, because that was a valid hunt for a wraith. Any political ramifications of the ghost’s exorcism are moot, because its removal was a necessity.”
“You were willing to teach me the secret of whispering just a moment ago.”
“I considered that a personal request. Kishar, the first among equals, who created our code, was challenged by other members of our order for killing his own brother. His brother had been high king of the elves at that time. The duel and resulting death plunged all the elves into a brutal civil war and ended the first dynasty of their people. Kishar replied simply that it hadn’t been a political act against a tyrant, but an act of personal vengeance against the man who murdered their father.”
“A whole cavalry company would be a formal military request, and thus a step too far. Is that right?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I know other slayers have trained with regular military forces to exchange fighting skills in the past, and that wasn’t forbidden. And the secret of whispering was taught to me by my mother, it’s not a slayer technique. I’m not an expert in interpreting the code. Until now, my master has always made these decisions for us. And he never informed me of his thinking on these matters.”
“I believe I understand. I shall do my best not to press you into a difficult position. I know well the weight that a code of honor can place one under.”
Jean instructed her how to put on her gauntlet and use the hood and jesses. It was all simple enough, although she supposed it was probably much more difficult when one could not communicate directly with the bird to request its cooperation. Jean appeared impressed by how well she took to it and she enjoyed the opportunity to show off.
He introduced her to his own personal hunting bird which he had requested be brought up from his estate. It was a dignified grey gyrfalcon, an ‘eyass’ he had trained since he was a boy. She had never heard the term ‘eyass’ before, and he informed her that it meant the bird had been raised from the egg. She supposed that was why the animal believed Jean to be its mother.
They proceeded leisurely and left late in the morning. By the time they had reached the hunting ground it was noon. The servants had already gone ahead to prepare a pavilion and meal for their arrival. The day was cloudy and overcast, but it had been a very warm autumn and at midday it was still comfortable, even without the benefit of a direct sunbeam.
After they had eaten, they set out with their hunting birds. Their party went out in smaller groups to different areas, so as not to exhaust all the game in a single direction. Vero and Jean went together, of course. They were accompanied by his honor guard, and a handful of the most incorrigible noble ladies who still hoped to draw the Marquis’ eye for themselves. Jean asked his body guards to act as companions to the ladies, and remained close to Vero.