“An absolute disaster,” muttered Alistair. He willed himself to look at Ilvara for guidance, but the elf had returned to her taciturn ways. Alistair feared she was angry with him.

“It could have been worse,” Manus said, his earlier warmth gone. “But yes, I don’t think things turned out so well.”

The three of them emerged from the keep, emotionally battered and scarred. Their failure to convince the duke’s court weighed heavily on the conscience. With the proper resources and attention given to the threat of the undead, the matter of sabotage could be properly investigated. Now, it seemed as if all that they’d gathered would be pushed to the wayside, the same way the viscount’s death in Adelgard had been.

In the stables, the two visitors prepared to mount their steeds again. Their destination was unknown, and whether or not they would be together was suspect.

“Where will you go?” asked Manus.

Alistair paused, leg half-raised for the stirrup. “I’m not sure.” He thought for a moment longer, then shook his head. “All I know for sure is that I’m done with politics. Regardless of whether or not the people in there believe me or not, it won’t change the truth. The danger is still out there.”

“To ifreann with them.” Ilvara grunted as she leaped onto her saddle. She sounded tired. It must have especially hurt her, knowing she went through the trouble for the sake of humans, only to be ignored by them. “If the daoine here want to live in ignorance, let them. They will get what’s coming to them, sooner or later.”

“That’s cold,” said the Earl. He didn’t push it further. Even he could see she had a point.

“I have to go back to Wyrdwood.” The two looked at Alistair like he’d grown two heads. He closed his eyes, envisioning home. His family would surely be in danger. “All my life I’ve let myself be led around by others. Not anymore.” Alistair felt something bubbling up in his gut at this admission of change, of rebellion. “I’m not going to let them decide what’s true and what’s false. There are too many lives on the line.”

“What will you be able to do alone?” asked Ilvara, incredulous.

“It’ll be better than sitting around like the rest of them.” The paladin mounted his steed, fire in his eyes. Still, Alistair’s expression was grim. “Even if I go alone, I’m still one of the Lady’s chosen. That has to count for something.”

Manus grimaced. “If not for my responsibilities, I’d—”

“I know, Sir Manus.” Alistair leaned down to pat his shoulder. Somehow, their roles had reversed in the intervening month. Not so long ago, the boy had been paralyzed by indecision, unable to do anything without the Earl’s advice. Now it was his turn to lead the way. “If you can, relay my concerns to the duke when he returns. As long as it doesn’t get you into trouble, I mean.”

“You can’t be serious about this.” Ilvara raised her voice, a rarity. She seemed genuinely bothered. “This is suicide, Alistair. Lady’s chosen or not.”

“What else can I do?”

“You can start by not—”

“Wait!”

They turned to see Brianca briskly walking over to them. The supplicant, still working to earn the favor of the Lady, looked eager to intercept them. Her words during the trial, while short, had contributed to their failure. Alistair wasn’t very eager to continue a conversation with her.

“Lady Brianca?” Manus said, surprised.

The noblewoman stopped to catch her breath. “Good, I thought I’d missed you.” Brianca collected herself and swept her eyes onto Alistair. “I wanted to have a word with you, Sir paladin.”

Alistair glanced at Ilvara, but the elf merely shrugged. Might as well hear her out, he imagined her saying.

“Go on.”

Brianca followed his gaze, her lips pursed. “I’m sure you must be upset with what went on in there. It mustn’t have been easy, pleading your case after so much work. If only—”

“If only I’d been born with round ears? Stayed outside the walls? How about ‘never existed’?” Ilvara sneered, her distaste obvious.

Lady Le Floch’s expression darkened. “No, nothing like that.” She sent a cautious glance toward Alistair, as if worried she’d set him off. “If only they’d been convinced of the truth.”

“The truth?” Alistair narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying you believe me?”

“Oh yes, I very much do.” Brianca tapped her relic token. “You may not know this, but Shadow users are blessed with the ability to see through common deception and lies. I detected no falsity from you during the trial.”

“Then why—”

“I must confess something,” she said, interrupting Alistair’s plea. “Where I come from, in the duchy of Ionad, I’d barely be considered a noble. A lesser house, the daughter of a humble baron. The best life I could have hoped for was to be married off to someone with more than an ounce of kindness or respect.” Brianca started to smile as she remembered something. “Then, not so long ago, a daughter visited our humble domain. She said that I had a gift, that the Lady had greater plans for me. I was ecstatic to go off and prove myself.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Her smile faded. “In Ionad, I came upon a daughter-errant by the name of Rozena.” She caught the way Alistair flinched at the name. “You know her? A lovely woman. It’s because of her that I came south to your dukedom, for a quest of hers. She said there was a need for someone with my powers here. Somewhere called ‘Adelgard’ if I’m pronouncing that right.”

This sparked a memory for Alistair. The investigation into Viscount Lathurn’s murder, the wording of the quest. It had asked for someone specifically empowered by the shadow mantle. And Rozena had said she was off to find someone who could adequately investigate it. Brianca must have been the result of that.

“Before we could head further south together, there was a pressing need for a paladin here in Isenfell. Rozena believed it would offer someone like me a good opportunity for experience. Something she believed I would need for the work in Adelgard. So she went on ahead and I stayed here, but…” Brianca seemed truly upset by something, her lips quivering. “Almost immediately since I arrived, I’ve been treated with almost no respect and only the simplest hospitality, afforded to me only because of the Lady’s blessing I suspect.”

Sir Manus looked contrite. “I’m sorry, my lady. There is no excuse for their unwarranted behavior toward you. Believe me when I say it has nothing to do with—”

“Me being a woman?” Brianca countered, quieting the noble. Her expression softened almost immediately. “Forgive me, Earl Druim. I don’t blame you for this. Neither do I believe it is simply my feminine bits that are the issue. Ionad and Isen have had a difficult history, our peoples have often clashed. Perhaps me not being a full-fledged paladin adds to my problems.”

She sighed. “Regardless, Sir paladin, what I’m trying, and failing I think, to express is that had I tried to intervene on your behalf, the result would have turned out the same. Maybe even worse, I don’t know. But still, I wanted you to know that you have my support in dealing with this conspiracy you’ve uncovered, however little help I may be, a humble supplicant of the Lady.”

A short silence encompassed their awkward group. Daylight continued to dwindle as these heartfelt confessions played out. An important factor, considering time was something they were very much running out of. They had no idea when the next act of sabotage might occur, or when the undead would play their hand. No doubt soon.

“You know…” Manus played with his mustache, deep in thought. “Now that I think about it, Rozena did speak with me as she was passing through. Given that it’s been almost a week and what with all the trouble today I’d forgotten, but she had asked me to gather some kind of escort or guide for Lady Brianca when her quest here was finished. To bring her to Adelgard, I mean.” The old man’s eyes shifted to Alistair, the idea percolating.

Alistair caught on quickly. “You’re suggesting I take her?” He gave it a bit of extra thought as he said it aloud. “Well, I suppose I am headed that way…”

“And perhaps,” continued the Earl, “you might convince Viscount Alphonse of the truth. Being a southern lord, he’d be much more sensitive to the threat of the Undead Host than the pampered folk we have up here.”

Brianca bowed her head, suddenly sounding eager. “It would be an honor, Sir Alistair,” she said, smiling. “My business here is thankfully complete. I’ve been eager to meet Rozena again and continue serving the Lady here.”

“There’s no need for the ‘sir’,” said Alistair, offering her a tired smile. “I’ve only been made a paladin, not a knight. If not for my accomplishments, there’d be little love for me in these halls, being a peasant and all.” He noticed the Earl’s expression twist. “Of course, I don’t mean you, Sir Manus. But, you know what I mean, I think.” Alistair nodded toward the keep. “Send my regards to Sir Remon and the others who stood up for me. It truly did mean something to me, hearing them.”

“O-Of course,” said the Earl, somewhat surprised by Alistair’s graciousness. “And when the duke comes back, I’ll be sure to speak with him. Before the chamberlain can, I swear it.” Manus bowed to them. “I wish you good fortune. May the Lady watch over you.” With a rigid salute, the older man dismissed himself.

“Thank you.” He called out to Manus. Alistair then turned to Brianca. “Are your things packed? I’d like to get moving.”

Brianca nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll have my horse brought out right away.” And she made her way to the other end of the stable.

“Ilvara?” Alistair knew the elf had been stewing this whole time. He needed to know her thoughts. She was one of the few people he trusted not to lead him astray.

“This really doesn’t look good,” she whispered. Her expression remained indecipherable beneath the mask. “Have a bad feeling. Had it since we got here. Knew I shouldn’t have gone in with you, but I couldn’t say no.”

“I’m sorry,” Alistair replied.

“Don’t be. I should have known better.” Ilvara grunted again, this time it resembled something of a laugh. “Should have known you better. We’ve been through enough together as it is. If anything I should have seen this coming, thought of a plan for afterward. But, I’m all out of ideas now.”

“Are you going to head north?” Back to your people, he wanted to clarify but didn’t. There was still some meeker part of him inside.

“Haven’t heard anything from them yet.” She shrugged. Her eyes tracked Brianca as she trotted out on some well-bred mahogany thing. “Still, anywhere north of here would be safer than the frontline. The smart thing to do would be to leave.”

Alistair forced himself to nod. He respected her choice. At least she had the mind to make a wise one. Wisdom was a virtue he hadn’t been born with.

Ilvara moved to his side, their stirrups touching. “But, if you think I’m just going to leave you alone with her, you’ve got another thing coming.” She nodded toward the regal girl. “She’s come along too easy if you ask me. Besides, the daoine in there said that I’m the monster.” The elf tightened her warrior’s ponytail, a small smile emerging from beneath her veil. “What better way to prove them wrong than to go and kill the real thing?”

Her words stirred something in Alistair. The thought maybe, just maybe, he’d made himself a true friend. Out of an elf—a winter elf of all things. What an adventure the last couple of months had been.

“Are you ready, Sir-erm, I mean, paladin Alistair?” Brianca called out, clearly uncomfortable with the use of non-formal speech. She and her steed were at the portcullis, the animal impatiently stomping its feet.

Ilvara nodded at him and clicked her tongue, urging her steed forward. The elf quickly passed Brianca as if she were scenery. With the gate guards staring at her, Ilvara trotted past them with her head held high, elven and exotic features on full display.

Alistair allowed himself a small grin as he followed after her. Brianca swept in close behind him and the three left Isenfall behind for the south.

For an old friend, the city of Adelgard.