Several Years Ago

Vero was not quite to the top of the hill, but she could already see the top of the stone tower ahead of her. She was too jaded to be excited at the sight. The tower had become visible every time she was near the top of one of the damned hills, and each time the summit revealed a descent followed by yet another godsdamned hill.

This time, however, as she crested over the top, she saw a broad flat plain stretch out between her and Kaer Longus. Or at least it initially appeared to be a flat plain.

On closer examination, joy turned to despair. Vero could see the light of the setting sun reflecting off small pools of standing water. Thick vegetation covered the surface well, but when she drew closer, she could identify nymphaeales, aquatic flowering plants.

She sighed when she realized that the entire length, from the bottom of the hill all the way to the outer walls, was a massive marsh. Past the marsh was the tower, jutting up out of the midst of a walled city. Finally, just barely visible on the edge of the horizon, she could make out the flying banners and tents of the Marquis de Fer’s encampment.

The city was not yet under siege from what she could tell. Though with the army camped so near, the threat was clearly implicit.

The sun would be down by the time she crossed the swamp, and the city gates would be closed. She had considered scouting the city before going to the camp, but the timing of her arrival settled the question for her. She had left the road to travel cross country for haste, and the mistake probably cost her at least a day’s travel, if not two. She took a swig of water from the skin on her belt and began hiking the rest of the way down.

The trip through the marsh was misery. She slowly slogged through the tepid stagnant water in the late summer sun, while being eaten alive by mosquitos.

Her master had once told her that he knew a warding spell against insects. He never taught it to her, and she never saw him use it, no matter how badly they were beset by pests. She considered it just another of his lies. That list was already long enough that another late addition did not appreciably change her opinion of the man.

The sun sank and at last Vero was nearly free of the muck. The Marquis had set down his men on relatively solid ground. His troops were in the process of erecting a wooden palisade around the site, but it was not yet completed. They must have arrived only recently since, from what she had been told, the Marquis was not a man to neglect the defense of his camp.

One of the soldiers on patrol challenged her as she approached. “Who goes there?”

Vero held up her hands to show she posed no threat. “A friend, I am apprenticed to master slayer Aquinas. I came here over rough terrain in response to the Marquis’ urgent request for aid.”

“Remain where you are, boy.” The patrolman departed back into the camp, but two other crossbowmen had arrived and kept her in their sights.

She used the lull as an opportunity to sit on the shore and drain the water from her boots. The swamp had come up to her waist, and her pants clung uncomfortably to her body.

Another soldier arrived, he seemed to be a sergeant, and he waved for the others to lower their weapons. “Follow me lad. Milord wishes to see you as soon as possible. He’s ordered fresh clothes and a bath for you, then you’ll join him for his evening meal.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Vero was starving. She had not eaten anything all day beside a few strips of dried meat at noon. She had run out of money to pay for hot meals, and although she set snares whenever she camped, hunting had been very scarce.

She also felt filthy from her trip through the swamp and looked forward to prospect of a warm bath, despite the difficult explanations her undressing would entail. The soldiers had taken her, with her short hair and trousers, for a boy. Although she would never have overtly lied if pressed, it was certainly the impression she meant to give. She had serious doubts that the Marquis would hire a woman as his agent, and she desperately needed the employment.

Since the death of her master, she had yet to receive a single contract. What little coin they had was gone and she was nearly out of provisions. It would not be much longer until she would need to begin pawning her equipment to buy food.

The soldier extended a hand and helped Vero climb out of the muddy ditch surrounding the planned line of the camp defenses. Once she was up onto solid ground, he led her inside. Even if they ended up throwing her out, she would at least get a bath and a meal out of the adventure.

It was mostly the peasant levies around the palisade, but they and the camp followers made up only a fraction of the population Vero saw. The majority had the look of a professional fighting force; knights and mercenaries. She observed several crossbowmen, but few horses. Obviously, the Marquis had been better informed about the local marshy terrain than herself.

Looking at the organization on display, her precursory estimation was that the Marquis seemed a very able commander. That would confirm what her master had told her of him.

From what she had seen of the surrounding region so far, the only thing that might have the force to stop him was pestilence. Remaining in this swamp for a long siege would only court such disaster. She hoped the she could use his desire for a swift resolution to recommend her services.

The soldier stopped in front of a small tent. Not far away Vero could see the gilded commander’s quarters.

The patrolman moved aside the tent flap and pointed her inside. “A serving girl will take your clothes to be laundered and dress you in a new outfit when you’re finished. Milord is anxious to speak with you, so do not keep him waiting any longer than necessary.”

“I assure you; I’m equally anxious to eat. I’ll proceed with all haste.”

Inside the tent a steaming hot bath had been drawn in a wooden tub. A pretty young woman, who looked about Vero's own age, stood waiting with a brush and a cake of soap.

It seemed the Marquis intended to allow her every luxury the camp could offer. That spoke well of her chances on two fronts. First, it showed the value he placed on the services she could offer him. Second, and more immediately, she thought that a woman might be easier to keep a secret from than a male valet.

Vero set down her pack and weapons, and checked to make certain the soldier had closed the tent flap. She allowed the serving girl to help her remove her armor.

“Would Ser like me to take his equipment to be cared for by the camp armorer?”

“Yes, I think my chain shirt could use some mending. Leave the sword, but have the dagger sharpened. I also have a pouch with a few crossbow heads I’d like fletched onto new bolts, the heads are special though. Make certain I get those exact bolt heads back; new ones won’t do me any good.”

“Very good, Ser.”

“What’s your name miss?”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Antoinette- Ser?” Antoinette tried to removed her tunic before Vero stopped her.

“You’re very pretty Antoinette, and I’m really very- I really can’t afford to offend… I’m just very shy.” Vero tried to fumble her speech like a nervous young man might. “Could you perhaps allow me to wash myself?”

Seeing Vero acting so flustered must have made Antoinette self-conscious, because she began to blush and stammer herself. “Of- of course… Ser. I’m not here to- I mean that I did not intend to upset you.”

Once she had waited for Antoinette to leave with her things, Vero undressed herself. She tested the water and found it almost scalding. Gingerly, she placed one foot inside, and then the other.

She was working her way downwards slowly when Antoinette rushed back into the tent. “I’m terribly sorry, Ser- I’ve only gone and left with your cake of soap! I’m such a dullard I-”

Vero immediately sat down and hoped that the girl had not seen anything. While naked her feminine features were more obvious than when she was dressed, but they were still not pronounced in either state. She turned away to try and hide as much of herself as possible.

“Just put it down and leave please.”

“Yes, my a- ah… lord.” Antoinette kept her eyes pressed to the ground and placed the soap down next to a set of clean clothes. “I’m really a terrible fool, I’m very sorry.” She said, before turning and hurrying away.

Vero soaked lazily in the warm water. Her secret was either out, or it was not. Either way, she decided to enjoy herself while she could. She scrapped the muck off herself and rinsed her hair until she finally began to feel clean. Once she was washed and dressed, she called Antoinette back to dry and comb her hair.

“Are you a part of the Marquis’ household?” Vero asked.

“Yes, my… um… yes. My father is one of his huntsmen. I’ve lived in his house since I was born.”

“And how does he run his household?”

“Oh, he’s very strict. But not at all cruel! I know he’s very honorable. All his retainers think very highly of him, although they sometimes complain about his discipline.”

Antoinette finished then brought a mirror for her. Vero examined herself, really clean for the first time in months. Her skin was naturally fair, but she had been constantly out of doors all summer which gave her a ruddy complexion over her face and lower arms. Still unusually strong and tall for a woman, but also thin enough she could easily see the line of her ribs when she was in the bath.

Nothing but sinew, skin, and bones.

As her master always described her, and she admitted he was not entirely wrong.

She tried on a smile and adjusted the line of her hair. She would need to trim it again soon; it nearly came down over her face, and she hated when it got caught in her eyes. The outfit she wore consisted of plain breaches with a doublet in a dull reddish brown. Sewn into the fabric over the breast was the badge of the Marquis’ house, an argent stallion raised onto its back legs against a vert field.

“The Marquis, he always pays his soldiers on time?” Vero continued her questioning after the short lull.

“I’ve never heard anyone in the camp complain about him being late.”

“Well, that’s excellent. How do I look?”

Antoinette nodded approvingly. “Very fine, Ser.”

Vero gave herself one final check in the mirror. The doublet was smaller than she would have liked, but she had bound her chest as tightly as she could and nothing seemed to show. She looked, to anyone who did not know better, like a grown squire awaiting his knighthood. Her figure was a bit slight, and free from grime her face was rather pretty. However, some knights preferred their squires slight and rather pretty.

Vero stepped out of the tent. Antoinette led her over to the commander’s quarters and drew the curtain aside for her. Inside was a freshly set table with spiced goose, trimmed with berries added for color. A bottle of vino sat ready for consumption beside it. The meal was not exactly peasants’ fare, but nobles had been known to set more extravagant tables, even when on campaign.

A man in impressive attire, presumably the Marquis’ body servant, stood by the table and pulled out a chair for her. “My Lord is currently delayed with a messenger. He will be here momentarily. He graciously invites you to begin eating without him.”

“Whatever his lordship wishes.”

Vero sat down and tucked in. She showed the slightest restraint to try and keep the grease from running down her borrowed clothes, but otherwise spared no time in eating as much as she could, and doing so as quickly as possible. The wine was fortified and quite strong, so she limited her drinking to avoid becoming lightheaded.

She was kept waiting for only a few minutes before her host arrived. Vero was positioned facing away from the entrance, so her first indication of his presence came when the servant pulled out the chair opposite her.

A young man in his twenties sat down. He was handsome and clean shaven, with long auburn hair he kept tied back by a band, and a big athletic frame. His features were distinctly aristocratic, and his impressive height made it clear he was a man of distinction. His hair covered one of his ears, but the other was exposed and he wore a piercing of the type bravoes in the south used to display their courage.

She ought to have found him intimidating, but he had such entrapping sensitive eyes it did not occur to her. He wore an awkward friendly smile which gave Vero the impression that he was approachable; and she had to remind herself not to become too enamored with someone she had, after all, not even met yet.

One thing was certain, he was not the dour old man in his late sixties – with loose skin hanging from his jowls, and hair like a thatch of straw – her master had described.

The Marquis also spared no time before filling up his plate, and he cut slices of goose for himself as he spoke. “Well, I can tell you’re not master slayer Aquinas. I take it you’re his apprentice.”

Vero swallowed and sat up a little straighter in her chair. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Will master Aquinas be joining us shortly?”

This was the moment Vero had been dreading. “Unfortunately, my Lord, master Aquinas died more than a season ago. I accepted your message for him on his behalf. I am prepared to accept the contract you offered to him, if your lordship so wishes.”

“I suppose it’s fitting that I should call upon one of my dearly departed father’s old allies, only to find him also deceased. I imagine I’m not the Marquis described to you.”

“I confess, I was expecting to meet a man my master’s age.”

“I’m not too much of a disappointment to you I hope.”

“Absolutely not-! …my Lord.” Vero hoped she had not sounded too excited.

The Marquis paused while cutting his meat for just a moment and smirked. “If master Aquinas took you as a student, you must have some talent… Yet I’m still not certain I should trust this contract to a mere boy.”

“With respect, I’m not a ‘mere boy’ my Lord.”

“As you wish.” He waved her objection away and took a large bite of goose, which he swallowed with a gulp of wine before continuing. “I’m not certain I should trust this contract to a woman either.”

Vero choked on a bit of black berry, and the Marquis nearly burst into laughter to see her surprise. “My Lord… I-”

“Please, there’s no need for concern. What’s your name?”

Vero took a sip of wine to recover from her coughing fit. “Vero- Ah, Veronique my Lord.”

“Veronique, then. I’ve spent my whole life pursuing beautiful women. And I certainly know when I find one- even if she cuts her hair short and pulls on pants.”

“My Lord is a diviner.”

“Perhaps. You must let me keep some secrets... Regardless, I sniffed you out.” The Marquis tone had turned flirtatious, but a moment later he became more businesslike once again. “But as I said, there’s no need for concern. I have a very liberal point of view when it comes to those of your profession. Priests may say a woman taking work as a man is sinful, but they also condemn your type of magic in general. As well as anything else they can’t control.”

“Does my Lord not approve of priests?”

“I approve of priests very much. When they are solving my problems, not adding to them.”

Vero took a substantial gulp of wine. She decided that it was time to sell her services, and hopefully win the Marquis’ respect.

“And in this case your problem is a hostile entity, non-corporeal, which has established itself inside the keep of your vassal and altered his mind to turn him against you. Your priests have prayed, but their exorcisms must have proven ineffective, or you and I wouldn’t be here. You could take his home and kill him, but that just weakens your force camping in this bog and laying siege for weeks, possibly months. And it still doesn’t destroy the thing ultimately responsible for all this in the first place. I know spells and techniques for hunting ethereal creatures your priests lack. They’ve been trying to exorcise it with their expensive prayers, but obviously whatever it is… has an anchor somewhere deep within the keep. I shall go straight to the source, find it, and kill it.”

The Marquis ate in silence for a few moments and considered what she had said. “You’re certainly very confident.”

Vero was glad she had given that impression, because it was certainly not how she felt– even with the wine propping her up.

The Marquis continued. “As I see it, I don’t have much to lose. Your description of my situation was most apt. What I shall do, is allow you to enter the city, and then continue my own preparations for a siege. If you destroy the creature, then you’ll be rewarded. But I’ll warn you that I don’t plan on staying here long. If my men breach the walls- You’ll be just another resident in a sacked city. Sound fair to you, Veronique?”

Vero did not like the sound of the arrangement, but knew that she also had no other source for coin since the death of her mentor. She also noticed that the nature of her reward was kept vague, but then her master always told her that one did not haggle with nobles.

She nodded. “I won’t fail, my Lord.”

“I think I like you, Veronique. I very much hope you return to claim your reward.”