The next day came quickly. It served as a much-needed respite from the excitement of a failed execution and duel between supplicants. Alistair and Kevin were both made to agree not to try and kill one another again. Emotions were running hot still, even with Isabele’s counseling, so they were separated from that point on.

That was fine with Alistair. As much as he wanted to speak to Isabele, the last place he wanted to step foot in remained the lord’s keep. Especially now that lord Caldwell was fighting for his life from the severe burns his son had inadvertently given him yesterday. He had no love left for his lord but he wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone. Even from the barracks, he swore he could hear the man wailing and crying for relief.

Before the two supplicants were dispersed to let their heads cool off, Isabele offered rudimentary instructions on how to manipulate their relic mantles. Alistair received his answer as to whether or not he could return to his human form again. The armor completely disappeared when Alistair willed it away. When he transformed back, he noticed it left no trace of the armor’s muscle or height.

The relic token around his neck acted as the only reminder of the magic.

After all was said and done, he noticed Kevin had sported a nasty bruise across the left side of his head, from cheek to the top of his eye. The cut and the blood that came out of it healed quickly though. Too quick for a normal person. It just made these little relic mantles more interesting. Truly, it was baffling how little he knew about them, and about the world in general.

Now, Alistair found himself nervous to leave the relative safety of the guards’ quarters. Everyone, including his family and friends, had given him a wide berth and mostly left him alone. The sergeant had been kind enough to bring him a plate of food last night and this morning, but he refused to stay long enough to talk. They were all confused and still quite terrified by the events of yesterday.

Alistair himself still didn’t know what to think. He wanted to find Isabele and get some answers. What did the Lady mean for him to do now? He refused to believe she would offer these powers without some deeper meaning to explore or quest to undertake. The questions ate at him all morning, just as they did the night before.

What does it mean to be a supplicant?

The Lady of the Lake had sworn him to the Oath of the Supplicant. He had been rewarded with a relic mantle and made to follow the Code of Chivalry, something he once thought only knights were meant to do. Then he learned that somewhere out there in the world, there were people who could transform into magical suits of armor. Better yet, he had been chosen to join their number! The Paladins of the Lady, who would have thought a lowborn like him could aspire to such potential?

He felt restless wasting time just sitting in his bunk. Answers would only come to him if he sought them out. Alistair didn’t have the luxury of waiting for his life of hope and wonder to come to him!

“I’ve waited long enough,” he said to himself.

He got up from his straw pallet and decided he would go to the keep. Not so long ago, there were many days he had to force himself up from bed just to greet the day. Now it felt like a trivial matter to throw on his leather armor and tabard. Something about him and his life changing like this made him feel invigorated. A strange optimism swept through him, something exceedingly rare for a peasant to have.

Out of the barracks and into the courtyard now, a gentle gust of wind greeted him. The cool breeze tickled his cheeks as the sun gently warmed him with its rays. The sky above remained a clear blue.

What a lovely day, Alistair thought.

There were workers and guards scattered all about the courtyard. All of them kept themselves busy. Even with the excitement from yesterday, there were still things that had to get done. Some had even dedicated their time to scrubbing the ground of the darkened scorch marks from Kevin’s burning footprints. Those served as the only reminder of the chaos from yesterday.

Alistair did his best not to draw attention to himself. He gave everyone plenty of space and walked as if he had a great purpose. A part of him even nagged and said that he should find his sergeant and go about his daily tasks. But he knew that even if he wanted to, there was no going back to the way things were before yesterday. Too much had happened, and not just to him but to everyone in the castle of Wyrdwood.

He approached the entrance to the lord’s residence. This time there were two guards standing watch on either side of the oak double doors. They noticed him immediately and their posture stiffened. Not one of them dared speak until Alistair made the first move.

“I’m here to see the lady Isabele,” Alistair said.

The two glanced at each other nervously. One almost entered a coughing fit as he attempted to clear his throat.

“Uh, yes sir. I believe the lady Isabele is, uh, expecting you, sir. Please enter.” Together the two guards pulled on either iron handle and the door swung open. Alistair certainly hadn’t expected it to be so easy to gain an audience. A welcome surprise.

“Thank you,” he said kindly, stepping inside.

The doors were quickly closed behind him. Alistair was left on his own again. It was only then that he realized he had no way of knowing where to find Isabele. A keep was designed to be a maze so that attackers would get lost and trapped in its tight confines. Without a guide, he wouldn’t be able to find his way.

He wandered the halls for a bit. The longer he stayed there the more he felt like a lost child. Eventually, he managed to find someone. It was one of the maids, and in her arms she hefted a sizable wooden tub. He called out from behind, startling her a bit.

“Excuse me.” Alistair sped up to try and reach her, so as not to shout.

When she turned around, it was then that he realized he had made a silly mistake. This was no random maid but rather his mother, Lylie. He didn’t recognize her from behind, what with her hair tied up in cloth and her wearing the same uniform as every other lowborn woman in the manor’s employ.

“Mother!” Alistair ran up to her now. He felt relieved to see her unharmed.

“Alistair?” She gasped as her son wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. It forced her to drop the tub of clothes she had. “Oh my. Are you alright?”

“Better now that I’ve found you,” he said brightly.

His mother offered him a tired smile. No doubt they all had been worried about him even after they were forced back to work. She looked unharmed at the very least.

“What are you doing here?” Lylie asked.

“I had some questions I wanted to ask the daughter, Isabele. Do you know where she is?” He noticed his mother’s smile shrink a bit when he mentioned the girl.

“Ah, yes.” His mother nodded to herself. She had her hands on her hips as she often did when she needed to have a think. “The lady Isabele was looking over the baron. He had some nasty burns left from, well…you know.”

Alistair solemnly nodded in return. It was nasty business yesterday, and he was fine stuffing it into the back of his head. The less he thought of how close he came to dying the better.

“I’ve never really been to his room before. Can you show me the way?”

“Oh, you can’t really miss it. I just came from there, actually.” She leaned down to pick up her tub of water.

Inside the container, he noticed the water was stained red. He thought he recognized some gauze soaking there. They must have had to replace the baron’s dressings. It was a wonder the man was still hanging on from such a horrific experience. No wonder he received such accolades during the last conflict with the undead.

“Just go down that hallway around the corner there, second door on your left.” Lylie pointed back down the way she came. She didn’t hide her concern well. “You promise you’ll be careful? I don’t want you getting into more trouble.”

“I will,” Alistair said, nodding to her. He gave her a parting kiss on the cheek.

He did as his mother instructed him and went down the other hallway. The closer he got, the stronger the relic token around his neck pulsated. There was still much to learn about the holy gift but at least he knew that he was heading in the right direction. It seemed to act as a divining rod for those who had in them the Lady’s blessing. First, it recognized Kevin as another supplicant, and now it told him the way to Isabele.

It wasn’t even necessary to count the doors. There was a heavy guard presence just outside the lord’s room. The marshal stood there, along with three of the four knights sent from Isenfell. For Sir Buckfeld it looked like he hadn’t gotten a chance to rest all night. His eyes were bloodshot, and if not for the wall behind him he might have fallen over already. Clearly, he wasn’t taking his role in the events of yesterday well.

The group noticed him quite quickly as he made his way down toward them. Sir Buckfeld, still wearing his armor, sprang into action with a strong grip on the hilt of his blade. He adopted a defensive posture in front of the door to his lord’s chambers. His face shook with barely disguised anger and he leveled a harsh glare at Alistair.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Buckfeld asked.

Seeing his less-than-ideal reaction, Alistair stopped in his tracks. He held up his hands to signify he had no intentions to fight. This did little to assuage the knight’s feelings and perhaps that was fair. It wasn’t as if Alistair had anything nice to say to his lord, or Buckfeld for that matter, but he certainly had no intentions of finishing him off either.

“I’m merely here to see the lady Isabele,” Alistair said softly.

The other three knights relaxed upon hearing this. While they certainly did not leap into action as the marshal did, they too seemed on edge. Yesterday they had offered Alistair a short measure of respect after his transformation, but it seemed more of a formality than anything. Even with the relic token around his neck, they surely still saw him as a lowborn through and through.

“The lady is busy tending to our lord. His wounds are thanks in no small part to your actions, need I remind you,” Buckfeld said in a chastising tone.

“I don’t believe I was the one to burn him,” Alistair said with a wry grin.

The marshal guffawed at his retort. Such an attitude was dangerous for a lowborn to have, but Alistair felt particularly brave today.

“W-What did you just say? You little bastard, I should-”

The blabbering knight was cut off before he could make more of a fool of himself. From behind him the door opened, and out came the last knight from Isenfell, their wizened leader. His facial hair immediately gave him away. The clinking of his armor echoed around the stone walls. He shut the door firmly behind him.

“The lady Isabele said she would be out to see you shortly, young man.” The knight offered Alistair a rare nod in respect. He spared a glance to Sir Buckfeld and looked quite displeased. “Until then she asked we keep our voices down, for Baron Caldwell requires rest.”

Sir Buckfeld’s mouth opened and closed like that of a gasping fish. He wanted so badly to say something, anything to lessen the dent in his honor. But the damage was already done. These four knights had been around for only a couple of days and already they had seen his failures firsthand. First, it was his inability to protect his lord, and then the second, his consistently unbecoming attitude.

Even to a lowborn, a sworn knight was meant to show even a modicum of respect so long as no social bounds were overstepped. Alistair had come in peace and received nothing but hostility in return from the man. In the battle yesterday all he had done was defend himself after being wrongfully accused of a crime that never happened. Sir Buckfeld had done his duty in carrying out his lord’s orders without question, but his conduct felt sloppy in the eyes of these fellow highborn. And it showed in their faintly masked disdain.

“I’ll wait elsewhere then,” Alistair said, eager to get away from the man.

“May I join you?” The older knight asked.

Everyone present stared at the noble as if he had grown two heads. Alistair hadn’t expected him to say anything remotely like that. For a knight to want to walk with and speak to a peasant was more than a little out of the ordinary. Though after the events of yesterday, Alistair supposed he wasn’t just any peasant.

“O-Of course, milord,” Alistair said.

The older knight gave his men a nod and then joined the young man in walking back through the keep. This certainly wasn’t what Alistair was expecting when he got up in the morning. A decorated knight from Isenfell, clearly someone that had seen more than a bit of combat, wanted to walk with him? Him, the son of a blacksmith and launderer, a full man-at-arms for a mere two summers, and with only a few hobs being his most notable kills?

Perhaps this was what walking into the unknown felt like. He liked it so far.

They walked in silence for a while. Alistair really had no idea where they were going, but the man beside him didn’t seem to mind. He would glance toward Alistair once in a while, mostly toward his chest where the relic mantle hung from his neck. Surely he must have been bored out of his mind.

“Tell me, what was your name?” the knight asked after a while.

“Alistair, milord,” he responded.

“A strong name indeed.” The older man nodded, satisfied.

“May I ask your name?”

“You may.” The knight ceased walking. He crossed his arms behind his back and puffed his chest out proudly. “My name is Sir Manus Druim, and I am a sworn vassal of Duke Isen. My lord sent me here to act as a humble escort for the daughter of the Lady, so imagine my surprise when there was such a drama as yesterday!” He gave out a hearty laugh as if genuinely entertained.

Alistair struggled to find his own sense of humor. The day had been a little bit more than just a simple drama for him. Sir Manus seemed to recognize that and his expression eased down into something more reserved.

“You did well for yourself, lad. I saw the shiner you left on Kevin, he won’t soon forget that one,” Manus said in approval. Almost like one warrior complementing another on a kill from the previous battle. It made Alistair feel something, pride perhaps?

“Thank you, milord.”

“Please, call me Manus.” The older man idly stroked his mustache.

“I-It’s not my place, milord,” Alistair stammered. To call a noble by their first name was an honor reserved only for fellow nobles, or close retainers. Only years of service could earn you that.

“Sir Manus then if you must. I insist.”

“Very well, Sir Manus,” he said in an effort to appease the knight.

The man nodded and again his eyes went to Alistair’s relic token. He couldn’t blame him for his interest. It had quickly become Alistair’s most prized and valued possession.

“Would you like to see it, Sir Manus?” Alistair grasped the glowing pendant in his hand. “Up close I mean.”

“No!” He shook his head quite vigorously. “No, lad. That’s for you, and only you. The Lady herself must have blessed you with it. You mustn't ever let that go to someone, even for a bit. You understand that?” The man sounded gravely serious as he issued this warning. Any hint of jovialness in his demeanor was gone.

“Y-Yes, milord. I understand,” Alistair said, tightening his grip on the relic. It rattled softly in his fist.

An awkward silence fell over them for a short while. Sir Manus stared off into nothingness as he gathered his thoughts. Alistair glanced back down the way they came and hoped Isabele would come soon. He wasn’t good at small talk and especially not with a highborn. They rarely had much in common.

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“What was she like?” the older man asked out of the blue. His voice was soft, reverent.

“What was who like, milord?” Alistair turned back to him, confused.

The older man looked a bit sheepish. “The Lady, lad. You met her somehow, didn’t you?”

“Ah, yes. At least I think I did.” Alistair crinkled his nose. The dream would be hard to explain. “It was some sort of spell I think. She entered my mind through a dream. Well, that’s what she said anyway.”

This intrigued Manus especially. His eyes lit up with excitement. He leaned in closer as if they were about to gossip about something.

“And? What did she look like? Did she smell like freshly picked flowers, or was it more like fresh lavender oil? Was her voice as lovely as the bards say it is?” Manus looked animated as he rapidly listed off all the questions he could think of. It was as if this aging man had been replaced by a giddy knight-errant asking after his forlorn lover.

“Um, well I suppose she looked, different?” Alistair said in a mumble. He was afraid to speak out of turn. His vocabulary as a lowborn would fail to accurately describe a being such as the Lady of the Lake.

“Different? How so?” Manus asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, milord, her skin was a pale shade of green.” Alistair immediately noticed the man recoil in shock. “B-But she was still very beautiful. I couldn’t stare for too long. The experience was overwhelming.

“As far as smell, well I suppose she smelled like water. She came out from under a small lake, you see. It was a pleasant enough scent I think. And her voice was very pretty. She spoke to me like a mother would to a child. It felt very nice.”

This was a lot to take in for the old man. That said, he looked content with the answers given, and for that Alistair felt relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was offend the highborn with a poor choice of words. With such passion for the subject, Manus could have been mistaken for a scholar and not a knight.

“Amazing,” Manus whispered. “A shade of green? Truly?”

“Yes, milord. Like a pear.”

“Brilliant.”

The two ruminated over their shared appreciation of the Lady for a short while. Sir Manus Druim had never met the Lady, nor had the pleasure to speak with a paladin about her. He emphasized that he had met paladins before, but they were regretfully tight-lipped on the subject, and so he appreciated Alistair’s unique candor. For those like him that lacked the potential of becoming a paladin, the highest honor one could achieve would be meeting the Lady. That could happen in person, or even in a dream.

Such a thing remained quite rare as the Lady rarely made an appearance outside her home of Avalon. And finding Avalon, well that challenge was reserved for those with an invitation. An invitation the Lady was loathe to give out freely.

“You said you met paladins before, Sir Manus?” Alistair asked. The two had found a bench to sit on and had started to warm up to each other. Never before would he have imagined enjoying a conversation with a highborn, but there he was on a first-name basis with one.

“Yes lad, I’ve met two personally. From a distance on the fields of battle, I’ve seen more. Truly, they are a sight to behold.” Manus chuckled as he thought back to those times while playing with his mustache. “You’ll be in good company out there in the world, I’m sure.”

“What were they like?” This was the first he had heard of paladins up close. He was eager to learn more.

“Hm. They felt like heroes among men, larger than life. How could they not be from the perspective of a normal person? I’ve heard stories that some let it get to their heads but the two I spoke with were honorable, good people. A man and a woman, though each remained a separate encounter.”

“Were their powers like mine?” Alistair pointed to his relic token.

Manus shook his head. “No, I’ve only seen one like yours on the field of battle. Just once. Far away, and only a glimpse. The two I met up close were at two separate tourneys. Just jousting I’m afraid, between knights. There weren’t enough paladins for a proper Grand Melee, let alone a match of King’s Chess.”

Tournaments, Alistair had heard of those before. They were apparently very entertaining but rarely were lowborn allowed to watch. They were supposedly as much a test of mettle as they were a show of entertainment. Though he admitted the words ‘Grand Melee’ and ‘King’s Chess’ made no sense to him. They sounded fancy.

“The man presented himself as a Paladin of the Cavalier. Funny story, I first mistook him for a particularly bulky knight with a steed of comparable heft as he tried to enter the jousting tourney. They rejected him on the grounds that he was no normal man and his steed was actually made of fey magic!” Manus let out another bellowing fit of laughter. Alistair smiled and thought Manus good at telling stories.

“He took it rather well though. Lamented the fact that it was hard to find a good challenge or a fellow paladin to joust. Apparently, most in your ranks when they transform are too large even for a warhorse to handle. And if they aren’t large, their bodies would hurt the poor thing beneath them. Not him though. By the Lady, him and his steed were quite the team.”

That made a certain kind of sense. Alistair’s thoughts immediately jumped to Kevin and his relic mantle made of flame. No horse would survive if he were to attempt to ride it like that. Nor would his Aegis fit well on the back of one.

“And the woman?”

“Ah yes, a lovely lass from the western coast. Accent was…hrm, Vessyian I think. Name of Meave, surname was Karran. I remember it fondly because I have a distant cousin of the same house.” Manus nodded to himself, reminiscing.

“Anyway, we met at a tourney as I said. She only observed, and I never saw her transform. But after a drink or two, well I might have caught a glance at the spot above her breasts, just a glance I swear, and her medallion was that of a bartering scale, colored gold and black.”

“Interesting,” Alistair said, imagining it all in his head.

“Isn’t it?” Manus enthusiastically agreed. “Truly, there are many wonders in this world, and the Lady has blessed me with finding a fair few of them. I suppose I can add my witnessing of your ceremony and the subsequent bout as two more to my list. My first encounter of two paladins duking it out over life and death. My, what a spectacle.”

“Well, milord, I’m not sure whether I’m actually a paladin yet,” Alistair said.

“No, not quite yet.” A familiar voice, feminine.

The two turned in their seats to find Isabele had finally joined them. She wore a different dress, this one a rich maroon. Hands that were usually spotless and pale like the rest of her were lightly stained with what Alistair could only imagine was half-washed ichor. Her expression remained much the same as always, neutral and distant, though she had sounded a bit amused when she made to interrupt them.

“Lady Isabele.”

“Milady.”

The two men stood to greet the daughter of the Lady, bowing their heads in respect. She offered them both a passing nod, but her attention remained on Alistair. It was clear she wanted to speak with him just as much as he did with her. Sir Manus picked up on that quickly and, with another curt bow to the two, shuffled back down the hall to join his men. He had plenty of new things to gossip about now with them.

“You came to see me,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.

“Y-Yes, milady. I had some things I wanted to ask you about,” Alistair said, stumbling in his words. The girl couldn’t have been much older than him, but she was somehow quite intimidating to speak to. It was that otherworldliness surrounding her, he guessed.

“Good, it’s just as well. I’ve finished speaking with the Caldwell boy. He’s already set off.”

“Kevin’s gone?” Alistair asked, surprised. With his father so injured, he would have assumed the heir wanted to stay close.

She nodded, casually throwing a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Of course he is, just as you soon will be.”

Alistair furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand, milady.”

“You will be made to.” She turned on her foot as if to leave. “Follow me outside. This place is much too dull.”

----------------------------------------

All eyes were on the pair as they walked through the courtyard together. Alistair kept his head down low. He had received more personal attention in the last two days than he had ever gotten in his life before. It was a very uncomfortable feeling to be in the spotlight.

Isabele didn’t seem to pay the people around her any mind. She took the lead on their walk. Clearly, she had a particular destination in mind. They began to climb a set of stone stairs that would lead up to the battlements. Alistair followed behind her like a skittish dog running after its owner.

He wanted to be better, to hold his head up high and walk like he had everything figured out. Kind of like the girl in front of him, albeit with a tad more enthusiasm. But with all the questions he had and how all the people around him were acting made it feel as though he had done something wrong. Like he was doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Was it wrong for the Lady to choose him?

“Where are we going, milady?” Alistair asked.

“You will see,” she said.

They were off the stairs and walking along the walls now. There was a strong breeze this high up. Alistair couldn’t help but take a deep breath to let it all into his lungs. It felt refreshing to be out of the muck.

They reached the parapet that sat directly above the gate to the castle. This side of the wall offered a commanding view of the humble valley the settlement of Wyrdwood occupied. Wyrdwood extended past just what remained in the castle walls. An entire settlement had been built around the hill the fortification sat on. Further out into the valley one could see the makings of smaller villages and hamlets that were constructed on the baron’s land, each with their own names and aldermen to lead them.

He watched Isabele lean over part of the raised stone wall. There they stood for a moment admiring the view. Alistair couldn’t tell if she planned to wait for him to talk or if she simply wanted to enjoy the view.

“You have questions. Ask,” she said, plainly. His answer had arrived. Yet, where should he start?

“I understand the Lady chose me for some reason, milady, but I’m not sure I understand what I’m meant to do.”

“The Lady swore you to an oath, yes?” Isabele watched him nod. “Your purpose now is to make good on that oath, lest you squander her gift.”

“I would like to, but the Lady was vague. What does the Oath of the Supplicant mean?” Alistair asked.

Isabele for once looked perplexed by his question. For a moment he thought that he had said something out of turn.

“The Lady didn’t tell you?”

Alistair felt his mouth suddenly dry up. “Um, no. She made me swear to the Chivalric Code, and before long the dream was over.” He pointed to the glowing relic around his neck. “I was lucky to grab this token before being ripped from the dream.”

“Strange.” Isabele shook her head. “The Lady usually offers more guidance than that during the spell.”

“I’m sure it was my fault. She spent a while trying to get me into the dream. I must have wasted too much time.”

She shrugged. “It’s a small matter. Daughters such as I have the knowledge to help you on your way. It is our sworn duty to help any prospect or supplicant we may find in our travels. You are no exception.”

That did make him feel somewhat relieved. His chances of succeeding were surely low enough already. The last thing he wanted was to be failed because of his own naivety.

Isabele looked deep in thought. “There are many things to tell you then. And the sooner the better, you’d best be off before sunset. Listen to me closely.”

Alistair nodded in agreement. He wasn’t really sure where to begin with his questions. It would be easier to listen to her explain.

“As I said before, you are not yet a paladin. You are a supplicant. The Lady has helped awaken the magic inside of you, but it’s only a temporary boon. To complete your quest and become a paladin proper, you must go out into the world and prove yourself worthy of the powers she has bestowed upon you.”

“How do I prove myself worthy?” he asked.

“You swore to follow the tenets of chivalry, yes? The Lady will watch your journey and she will know when you display one of the thirteen Virtues. When she believes you are worthy, she will reveal the path to her home of Avalon.”

The thirteen virtues sounded familiar, though he certainly couldn’t name them. Maybe it was something he had heard a knight mention in the past. They must have had to do with the code he was sworn to uphold.

“Thirteen virtues? Should I know them?”

Isabele narrowed her eyes a tad. “Have you not been told stories of the Great War, of the Paragons of the Lady?”

Alistair wracked his brain but simply shook his head after a moment. The few stories he was told as a child were cautionary tales, like avoiding witches and running away from silver lights in the trees. History lessons and stories were not high on the priorities of his family, mostly because he was sure they knew just as little as he did.

She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. You and the Caldwell boy are the first supplicants I’ve met so this must be more common than I thought. Those stories are told frequently among the highborn but I suppose not among the peasantry. No matter.”

There must have been so much information for him to digest. Every single answer he had gotten so far had only left him with more questions. Was he the only supplicant to ever feel this overwhelmed? Alistair so wanted to curse his upbringing but held his tongue. Whining would do no good. He had to focus and listen close.

“I will keep this short, for there is little time to teach you the history of the Alban Kingdom. Suffice to say that long ago, the Lady and her kin fought against the forces of Evil alone. They did not fare well. It was in the Lady’s greatest time of need that thirteen heroes of humanity stepped forward to help her, each of them embodying a different virtue of chivalry during their lives.

“These thirteen were made to bathe in the waters of Avalon and drink deep from the grail, and so their bodies were transformed into what we know now as the Paragons of the Lady. The water of the Lady’s home had been infused with pure, raw magical force. The Paragons were no longer truly human, and together with their new powers, they led humanity to victory against the Evil. It’s from one of their bodies that your relic originates from.”

Alistair looked down at what he once thought a lovely bauble. This was a piece of a legendary warrior, lost to time. As if he didn’t feel unworthy enough. It rattled as if to show it was listening in too.

“Why me?” he asked.

Isabele simply shrugged. “Why any of us? The world around us works in mysterious ways. The Lady has never seen it fit to explain. Perhaps, even she doesn’t know the real answer.”

The Lady of the Lake not knowing something had implications. Did that mean there was something out there more powerful than her? He shuddered to imagine.

“This might seem like a strange thing to fixate on, but why did my eyes turn green?” Alistair had just remembered that little fact. It was staring into Isabele’s own glowing eyes that reminded him.

It almost looked like she was about to smile. “The Lady has offered you a temporary boon, as I said. Part of that is your ability to transform into the image of the Aegis paragon’s spirit. The other half is the ability to use the Sight.”

“How am I meant to use it?” Alistair asked.

“It is difficult to explain at first, but once you learn it will be like breathing. A second nature to you,” she said. “Focus on me. You mustn’t look at me, but through me. Eventually, you will see something interesting.”

He awkwardly took a few paces back to have a wider view. The last thing he wanted was for there to be some kind of explosion or mishap because he misunderstood the spell, or boon, or whatever it was. But he did as she said and at first, he just stared at her like he would anyone else. Then he narrowed his eyes and focused his vision on her, repeating in his head ‘through’ not ‘at’ her.

Nothing happened for a bit. That familiar feeling of shame and fear started to settle in. Was he really cut out to do this? Had there been a mistake somewhere along the way? He wasn’t punished for his blinding self-doubt, however, and instead his efforts were rewarded.

Next to the daughter, he saw some sort of writing come up. The miraculous thing was Alistair barely knew how to write, let alone read. And yet for some reason his brain knew exactly what the words meant.

Isabele

Daughter of the Lady | Level 1

Recognized and Blessed

“I-I can see letters. And I can still read them! Hah!” Alistair could hardly contain his excitement. He had never dreamed he could learn to read so quickly. It should have taken him years and decades to get this far and he got it in just a day!

Isabele’s look of pity soured his fun. It reminded him that he felt very much like an exception rather than the rule. He hoped more than anything that feeling of inadequacy would go away with time.

“The Sight can offer some measure of insight on a variety of things. It isn’t all-knowing, however. This power is given to us by the Lady, and it is influenced by what she and her followers know and comprehend.”

“Do I have letters around me?” Alistair glanced around, turning a full circle around himself trying to read more things. He certainly looked silly but he didn’t care.

“You do, actually. But you can’t read them yourself. Only others can.” Isabele did not look amused with his antics.

“Please, milady, tell me what it says,” he said, ignoring her cold stare.

She sighed. “Very well, if it will get you to stop. It says your name, Alistair of Wyrdwood. And then that you are a supplicant, and that you are Unknown and Unpredictable.”

“But what of my father’s name, Hughe?” Alistair had been taught to introduce himself with his father’s name so that people knew his family.

“For those with proper surnames, they appear there. Your father won’t be known outside of Wyrdwood, so the Lady has given you the settlement as your surname instead. It’s a common method for free travelers to use their birthplace as a surname.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said, nodding. It made some sense. Surely there were many Hughes out there in the world. It would be easy to get them all confused.

Now that he got a better look at her, he noticed a faint aura around her. It was of the color green, fairly close to the same shade as her eyes. It would be easy to miss if one didn’t look closely. Coincidently, the word ‘Blessed’ in her name had been illuminated in the same color.

“Is there anything else you wish to know?” she asked. They had been talking for a short while now, and it was already past midday.

“I suppose not. You said this blessing would be temporary?”

“Yes, you only have a short while to prove yourself worthy.” She turned back to the stunning view of the grasslands beneath them. “If you remain a supplicant for too long and fail to satisfy the Lady’s expectations, your powers will be taken away. Forever.”

“Forever?” Alistair felt a chill run up his spine.

“Forever,” Isabele said, nodding.

“Well how long is a short while?! Shouldn’t I get going?” Alistair felt panic creep into his voice as the reality of the situation dawned on him. Of course Kevin had run off so quickly, and with the best steed in the stable and all the supplies he could ever need no doubt.

Isabele contemplated for a moment. If his paled expression bothered her she certainly didn’t show it. In fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a part of her that enjoyed seeing him squirm.

“It varies, but usually the Lady offers no more than a month of leniency.” Isabele looked over him one last time, measuring him in some way. Then she nodded, to him and herself. “And yes, you really should be going.”