The halls of Caernholm were cold. Cold and empty. Leofric had taken many of their House’s retainers to the south along with their daughters.

Gwen… Neve…

Eveline was sat in a hard uncomfortable chair her hands furiously building a charm. There were already five of them hung around Aelf’s bed, but Eveline didn’t care, she would keep making them until her son was well again. A part of her knew it was all foolish, children died all the time. How many times had she visited her ladies in waiting to find that they had lost another child to a fever or a cough, how many birth chambers had she been in when the midwives would sadly shake their heads and take the lifeless bundle away leaving her to tend to the lady’s grief.

A small part of her said this as she wrapped and tied the golden threads together, but another whispered that she was blessed, four times she had been in those chambers, and four times she came out with healthy children. She had not once been given serious cause to fear for their lives, and she considered it a miracle.

But now for the second time, she felt this fear. First when Edric had been taken into battle, and now with her youngest, her sweet son. Aelf. What had he been doing there in that dank garden? She pushed aside the memory of his cold white body being pulled from the pool, the look on Hedwyn’s face as he held a brass instrument to Aelf’s chest, and a grim look came over his face. Her boy was still alive and that was all that mattered.

Leofric’s mother was sat across from her, she had been for days. So far as Eveline knew she hadn’t left. Twenty years she had known the woman, sat with her, sewn with her. Yet not one word had they shared. Eveline always thought it some illness of the mind, how could a person, a mother, refuse to speak to her family for so long, could grief destroy someone like that? Now she felt closer to the old battle-axe than ever, for if she had lost as much as the Lady Elysia then she might also find she had nothing left to say.

Elysia was embroidering a piece of cloth, Eveline knew better than to ask if it was finished, the old woman wouldn’t show her, she never showed anyone her work. Eveline bent over once again to whisper a prayer into her son’s cold ear.

That morning, she had been pulled away from Aelf’s side by Edric. Her eldest hadn’t wasted any time telling her of a matter of great importance which required her attention.

“I am a mother first Edric, and Aelf requires my attention… He could die at any minute don’t you understand! I will not be away; I will be here if my sweet boy needs me.”

“The matter involves Aelfric mother, Hedwyn and I must speak to you right away… In private.”

Eveline scoffed. “Worried that your mute grandmother might spread your secrets. Secrecy ill-suited your father and it ill-suits you Edric.”

“Mother please, Hedwyn is waiting.”

The monk was indeed waiting. Perched on his long nose were a pair of eyeglasses, handmade by the lens masters in Valorium, they were one of his prized possessions. Hedwyn sat behind a large oac table in the family’s solar, it was a mark of the great trust the Runes vested in the small monk that he was allowed in such an intimate place.

“My lord. My lady.” Hedwyn bowed his head, brown robes clinked with the weight of many tools and toys as he moved.

“Brother Hedwyn, my Edric tells me you have something to share with me, something relating to my ill son.”

The ageing monk ran a hand across his shaved pate, it gleamed in the lamplight, Hedwyn waxed it regularly. “Yes, my lady. A letter, a warning if are to believe its contents… and its sender.”

“Show me.”

Hedwyn produced a small piece of parchment rolled up and tied with a leather strap. There was no seal, no indication of where it came from. Eveline unrolled it and quickly scanned the messily formed words.

“It was left in my scriptorium, dropped upon an open tome, some history of the marshlands by Brother Vernost. Terribly interesting read, it documents the changes in-”

“Hedwyn. The important parts please.” Edwyn cut the old monk off before he lost himself in one of his monologues.

“Oh yes, yes. I quickly left the chamber to see if I could spot who left it, the guards outside told me they didn’t see anyone unusual, but some passing maids told me of a vast man dressed in green lumbering away from the tower, too tall and wide to be anyone who worked in the keep, they chanced a guess at one of the royal party taking a stroll.”

Eveline’s eyes narrowed as she saw the signature at the end. “Tell me this isn’t who I think it is.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“The writing is sloppy, poorly formed and splotchy, but the parchment is good. It is rich and previously decorated, I recognise the craftsmanship, it was made in Solarhall and had the flourish of master vellummaker Johannen Huurst. This parchment does not come cheap my lady, if I were a gambling man I would say it is authentic.”

“Why would Gideon Vauken write a missive telling me that my son's condition was no accident, and to expect an assassin has come to end his life?” Eveline dropped the parchment and placed her eyes in her palms. She could feel the lines in her face, the bags under her eyes. Eveline had aged a decade in under a fortnight.

“When Hedwyn told me about the letter, then I read it with my own eyes, I didn’t believe either mother, but I knew father would. I doubled the guard on Aelf’s door, doubtless, you were too steeped in grief to notice. The guard around the tower was doubled and I myself walked the halls more often than not. The man was caught skulking through the kitchens posing as a pot wash. If not for Melver, who’s sweet on one of the scullion girls and spends more time in those kitchens than the chefs, we wouldn’t have caught him. After a night with Interrogator Iver, he told us why he had been sent here though he could not tell us who sent him. As soon as the name began to escape his lips the light fled from his eyes and his heart stopped beating.” Eveline snapped to look at her son.

“An assassin gained entry to Caernholm, and you didn’t see fit to tell me.”

“This is a surprise to me as well my lady,” Hedwyn informed Eveline, his stiff words betraying his hurt.

“I am telling you now Hedwyn, and I thought your motherly duty was more important than the business of Caernholm.” Her eldest son had an angry gleam in his eye. Only then did she see the dark bags under his eyes and the scruff across his usually shaven neck. His chestnut hair was in disarray and his light green eyes were rimmed red.

Eveline reached out to her son and ran her hands across his face. “Truly it seems I have been neglecting both of my duties. Caernholm weighs heavily upon you, my son.”

“Heavier without help.”

“That changes now my son. I will leave your grandmother to tend to Aelfric, and I will once again sit in the court of the Grand Baron of Angevain.”

They stood there for a tender moment, mother and son reunited despite their grief. Then they heard the shouting. That turned their heads. When the screaming began, they started to run.

Eveline’s heart hammered in her chest as she and Edric ran back to Aelfric’s chamber. Edric had his sword drawn as they burst into the room. She looked down in horror as she saw three guards dead at the foot of her son's bed. Their eyes were black and burned out, vast gouges had been ripped from their necks. Their swords had been drawn but were cast to the ground bent or broken.

Eveline could feel the tears running down her cheeks. Aelfric is dead. The assassin succeeded, all because I left his side. When she dared look up, to see his still form all she saw was a scrawny man sprawled across the bed, a silver knitting needle jutting from his eye. Lady Elysia sat demurely back her eyes closed. Laid across her son's chest was an embroidered cloth. Eveline snatched it up and held it to the light. It was a perfectly sewn scene, three guards dying on their feet their swords snapped in two. A bald man with a hook nose. His eyes milky white, his jaw slack and dribbling, lunging forward.

“What is this? This man died in the cells how is he here!” Edric swept his gaze between Eveline and Elysia.

She pushed past him, nearly knocking him over. Eveline crouched down to her son, her hands running over Aelfric’s head and chest.

“He’s alive, Aelfric is alive,” Eveline announced triumphantly. “Thank you. Thank you.” She looked over at Elysia who had finally opened her eyes. The watery greens that looked back at her betrayed nothing. She simply rose to her feet and hobbled out of the room.

Edric appeared beside her and knelt down to his brother. “What could be so dangerous about Aelfric to send such a fearsome creature as this? A man who can ignore death. I would have him studied; I will call for Hedwyn.”

“You will do no such thing, my son. This man is steeped in the arcane, see the wisps of acrid smoke bubbling from his lips, see the blackness in his veins. Do not touch him! He is cursed and will be dealt with under the faith. Call for Father Eldon and tell him to bring his vestments. We will destroy this body in holy flame and bury the ashes in a place of power.” Eveline stroked Aelfric’s face one last time for she knew she would not be back in these chambers for a long while. “Goodbye, my sweet boy.”

“The arrangements will be made Mother. What of the letter, what do we do about Gideon Vauken.”

“If what he said was true then our boy was maimed by his brother, and the assassin is the work of Duc Arand. They dabble in things forbidden by the Sacred Seat since the reign of Valorian II, the last of the Astraen Witch-Kings. When his blood betrayed him and the arcane powers his family wielded fled from this world, he forbade any others from duplicating them under threat of torture and death; for the individual and generations of their families. If what Gideon Vauken writes is true, his own life may be forfeit.”

“What might motivate a man to betray his family so?” Edric furrowed his brow. Guards rushed in, Edric hissed orders, and they rushed back out.

“The Vaukens are a duplicitous and greedy breed, not long ago they were lowly stewards biting at the heels of their betters, now they are Lord Superior and count a Queen among their number. But even that is not enough for Luther Vauken. Undoubtedly his son sends us this to get in our sweet graces, he hopes when your Lord Father holds the king's ear and this is brought to trial, we will beseech mercy for the crippled hawk.”

“If there is to be a trial we will need evidence.” Edric looked down at the smouldering body.

“Not that Edric, we cannot suffer that to remain here, or we may be tarred with the same brush we use to destroy the Vaukens. Only the testimony of Gideon will suffice.”

“So, we arrest him.”

“He has fled to Fenryr with Luc Derune. Right now he will be on a ship to Vinterheim and so beyond our reach. The Great Wolf will have no part in this, but do not worry Edric, now you are Lord of Caernholm some of its secrets will become available to you. Your father has agents and friends seeded across the realms. We have one such man in Vinterheim. A swift bird will be dispatched, and we will know where Gideon Vauken is, and when the right time to come will strike.”