Timoth and I led the two soldiers into the city. Folk at the roadside recognised me and I smiled at them. If they were children I gave them a wave. They might have been dirty folk who couldn’t hope to understand the sacrifices their rulers made on their behalf, but they were also citizens of the Reach. My responsibility was to my County, and it stood a better chance of survival with a heartened citizenry.

After two years of Hollowhold, Trackford seemed laughably minute. We reached the city centre in only a few minutes. Baron Steib greeted us, and as we dismounted to speak to him I noticed that he was twitching. He seemed nervous, though I supposed that wasn't surprising for a man who lived in the shadow of Western Island raiders. Despite this, his figure was even wider than when we’d last met.

'Greetings, Count and Countess,' he said to us.

People on the street were watching, and I bore in mind that they looked to us for guidance. I changed my expression to one of eager determination, straightening my spine and raising my chin. I was determined that the townsfolk of Tackford would not lose heart through any fault of mine.

'Good afternoon, Baron,' Timoth said. He made a show of looking around at the city, and finished by gesturing at the burned waterside homes and merchant warehouses. 'What is the meaning of this?'

'Western Island raiders, my lord,' Steib answered, as if we didn't already know that. 'They burned the buildings. They took everything.'

Timoth dramatically turned back to Steib, and walked right up to him, towering over him with his superior height. Steib seemed to retreat into a pathetic ball of fat and sweat.

'If they took everything,' Timoth began, his voice a low growl, 'why are so few buildings burned? Why are the townsfolk not fleeing, as they flee from Haelling Cove?'

'I… I don't know what you mean, Lord,' Steib stuttered, but Timoth grabbed him by the collar. He would no doubt have lifted his feet off of the ground if his rotund form had not served as an anchor.

'Speak the truth, Baron. Did you pay the Western Islanders tribute?'

There was a fire in Timoth's eyes that scared me. It reminded me of Father, when he passed judgement on criminals who thoroughly deserved their punishments. Giving money to the enemies of the Crown was a capital offence not only in Ebonreach but in all of Halivaara.

Steib hesitated, but Timoth shook him by the collar and he blurted out a response. 'They came the morning after Haelling Cove. They torched some of the houses and looted the warehouses before we could even respond. They demanded tribute or else they would raze the city and enslave the people. I had no choice!'

'You could have fought,' I said, my zeal for the Reach taking hold. I was used to suppressing my emotions when it came to Prince Alum, or to other nobles in general, but I had yet to learn how best to use this fresh sense of patriotic duty.

'There were twenty longboats. Five of them landed! We had not the men!' Steib claimed.

'The law is as it is for a reason, Baron,' Timoth replied, spitting the man's title as if it created a foul stench. 'You were elected to uphold the laws of the Reach, not save your own skin!'

'I had no choice!' Steib repeated blindly.

Timoth unhanded him and stalked away in rage, turning back to shout his thoughts at the Baron. 'Those five longboats now plunder Trent, and have no doubt that they will be back on their return journey to take what they left,' he said. 'You have but delayed the inevitable and impoverished the Crown. You have betrayed my father. If I were he, you would swing from the gallows.'

I saw a change cross Baron Steib's bloated features. The stark redness of his face gave way to a pale realisation, and I suddenly feared his next words.

My eyes widened as he spoke, 'but, my lord, you are the Count. Your Father perished in the raid. You are now the ruler of Ebonreach.'

It took a moment for Baron Steib's words to sink in. I understood what he was saying, that Mother and Father were dead, but I had to run it through my mind a few times. I didn't want to break down based on a misunderstanding. For some reason, the rational part of my brain took control as it assessed the information available to it, looking for any indication of falsehoods or logical inconsistencies. Any reason to deny the truth of Steib's statement. Could my parents really be dead?

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

My eyes darted frantically from side to side within their sockets as my body froze and my brain raced, but to no avail. Steib's next words crushed any doubt I may have had.

'My greatest sympathies are with you, my lord and lady. As are those of the folk of Trackford… though they do not yet know. Word came by private messenger; I am one of the the only men outside of Haelling Cove to have spoken with a witness to their corpses. Now, perhaps, you see why I had no choice other to pay the raiders to leave. I knew no help would be coming from the capital.'

Steib spoke, but Timoth didn’t seem to hear him. I wasn’t listening either; his words flowed past me like a river current past an obstructing rock. He was so caught up in his own predicament that he did not consider that the Count and Countess were our mother and father.

I was suddenly aware that I was on my knees. It seemed that time had passed. Not much - just a few seconds - but I couldn't account for them.

My face was wet. I knew it hadn't been raining, so I deduced that I was crying. People were watching, some of them pointing. Steib had turned to address them, but I could not hear his words.

I wanted to look at Timoth, to feel his warmth and his confidence, but I knew that he would emanate neither of those things. I kept my eyes squeezed firmly shut. I thought to wipe the tears away, but such a gesture would have been futile as their source had not yet been dammed.

Someone was speaking to me. I took a moment to consider, then opened my eyes. It was Steib again. I gritted my teeth in anger at the man but had no energy to scream or shout. He was saying something about going inside. I closed my eyes again. Let him see what his words had done to me.

A different voice spoke. Someone more familiar. Timoth. I opened my eyes again. He stood before me, his own face as red as mine, but his cheeks still dry. At first I envied his strength, but I quickly hated him for it. He held his hand outstretched before him, offering to help me to my feet. I didn't want to be helped to my feet. I wanted to collapse from my knees onto my front and die in the dirt like a peasant. Let the peasants watch! It was all in vain anyway. The raiders had broken the fortress protecting the heart of Halivaara, and now they would ravage the land - all because the King and Prince Milos had marched all of their soldiers to the Borderlands. There could be no coming back from this.

After some time I became aware that he was carrying me. I had lost some more time somewhere. I thought back and decided that I must have refused his helping hand. Perhaps I’d sunk further into the dirt. No doubt he thought it necessary to take me to a more private location, as per Baron Steib's request. I should have been grateful, but I was too numb for such worldly considerations. I don't know how Timoth could do it. Perhaps it was because he’d been bred for the day he would have to assume the throne. I’d only been bred to be married off. I felt so useless. The only thing I could do for the folk of the Reach - who lived in constant danger of being slaughtered by the dozen - was show them that we stood strong against our foes. Instead, I had collapsed in the market square.

The next few hours passed in a haze. I would open my eyes and see that time had passed, but then I would close them and enter a timeless void ruled only by the tyranny of my own misery. I was not built to deal with such devastation. I had been raised in a time of prosperity. I had never lost anyone close to me before, certainly never so many on one occasion. Was it even possible to recover from such a loss?

It was as if all warmth had been stripped from my life and replaced with tendrils of frost. At one point I could smell fresh food, and my stomach rumbled noisily, but I was beyond not being able to stomach it - I could not even sit up to face it.

I did notice that I was in a room with wooden walls and floorboards. Possibly the same inn that we had found lodgings at during our previous stay at Trackford. The thought did nothing to comfort or unnerve me; I was numb to external stimuli.

'She just needs some time,' I heard a familiar voice say. Timoth. I forced my eyes open, but could see no one. I realised that he was talking to someone on the other side of the door. I put my hands over my ears so that I wouldn't have to hear their words.

Mother and Father were not that old. I should have had years, decades even, to deal with the prospect of their mortality. It seemed so cruel, so unfair. How could we worship Yoru's when it was real only to those who dwelt in fairy tales? How was it fair that my parents had been in the city when the raid had occurred? For that was where they must have been for the raiders to have found them: deep enough in the city that they couldn't get back to the castle before the raiders made their landing.

In my mind, horrific scenes played out in the streets of Haelling Cove. My parents' housecarls would have tried to evacuate them and probably found themselves surrounded. There would have been a last stand. Father would have held a sword, I knew that much. He didn't – no, he hadn't, I reminded myself – he hadn't often carried one, but he would not have shirked from the prospect of physical combat, despite his age and station. He would have led the charge.

I have no doubt that he would have made us proud. Perhaps the minstrels would sing tales of Count Tfaeller's brave defence of his wife against innumerable foreign invaders. Perhaps they'd sing them upon my arrival at Haelling Cove. I hoped not.