1

Hidden deep within the enchanted realm of Brissland, was the Vault of Count Martin Northe. It was built in a clearing of golden beeches and bright green oaks, in the place we know today as Val Des Faux Amants. 

The forest was as beautiful as a kiss of the morning sun, the Vault that lay therein was anything but. It was a tower, so tall it curved in the sky, and dark enough to be a shadow on a starless night. It was enchanted with an evil magic that reflected the Count’s desires: the smell of smoke and the taste of booze, the sight of violence and the touch of women. Men drank and gambled, prisoners slaved their lives to their lord’s whim; or were otherwise forced in cages to fight friends with rusted blades. These prisoners were held in the deepest and darkest layers of the great tower, beneath even the earth we know. Of the prisoners doomed to this life, only one would escape it, only to return to the same twist of fate. 

Her name was Lyonesse Wes.

One night, Martin Northe won a bet on the arena, and celebrated his victory at the tavern in the tower. He owned many establishments like it, but the Vault was his favourite. Being so close to his plantations, it always had the first pick of stock. Good food, good fights, good drinks. Over time, Martin learned to appreciate it for other reasons as well. Namely, Lyonesse. She caught his eye as soon as his eye caught her. 

The Count’s current crew consisted of four people, including himself; other lords and the like from other lands, the names of which the good Count would forget the following morning. 

After Martin’s winnings, they sat at a table and ordered venison stew and mead. Martin paid a generous tip to have Lyonesse deliver the order (despite the fact he only needed to say to make his desire so), and he watched her with the corner of his eye as he chatted with his other lordly friends. 

She came with the food and drink, holding it as carefully as she could on a large tray, but amidst the excitement of quick-moving patrons in the rowdy tavern she tripped over a chair that had suddenly sprung out. The man guilty of the crime stood up from the adjacent table and went about his business. Lyonesse was sprawled about on the floor with a piece of broken glass in her forearm and large fresh stains on her shirt. The rest was scattered across the cobblestone floor.

Martin’s friends were in an uproar of laughter, mocking the fallen woman as she cried and begged their forgiveness. The good Count only grinned and watched, desire in his eyes. He quickly masked his face with sombre sincerity.

“Shame on all of you!” he shouted, “Can’t you see she’s hurt? Didn’t your mothers teach you that it is cruel to mock the suffering?” 

The tavern fell silent. Martin stepped toward Lyonesse and offered his hand to help her to her knees. She hesitated, but accepted his hand with her uninjured one, wincing as blood dripped from the other. 

And the tavern patrons watched, wide eyed at the good Count’s manners. All but one.

“You!” Martin called, pointing at the man who’s chair tripped Lyonesse, “Stay where you are!”

The man was near the door, but he stopped and turned around. His eyes were beady, his nose was big and his head was balding. He grinned nervously, revealing yellow teeth, crooked and full of spaces. The good count nearly took the guilty man for a rat. 

“Yes, Your Excellency?” The rat said, as if nothing had happened. 

But Martin wouldn’t have it. 

“Come here!”

The man’s grin dropped instantly, replaced by a stupid look of surprise and fear. He tried to dash out the door, but was seized by two guards standing outside. They dragged him to the Count, and threw the rat-man down before him. The man cowered under Martin’s gaze. 

Lyonesse said nothing.

“Stand up.” Martin demanded, and the man did as he was told. Martin was pleased, he liked to see his orders followed. Especially when those orders were followed by those who feared him.

“You are a brave man to defy me.” Martin said, “What is your name?”

The man stammered. 

“Lawrence, my lord.”

“Lawrence, you will apologise to this lady for the harm and embarrassment you’ve caused her.”

His lip quivered. This added to Martin’s pleasure. 

“A- a- a thousand apologies, my lady!”

“Very good, Lawrence. Now, will you promise never to do it again?”

“Yes!”

“Do you promise to watch where you are going more carefully?” 

“Yes, milord!”

“Don’t tell me,” Martin nodded to Lyonesse, “tell her.”

Lawrence turned to the woman. “I- I- I promise, milady!” The rat feared for his life. 

And Lyonesse said nothing still. 

“Very good.” Martin repeated, and called out to the rest of the tavern, 

“Hear me now, and let the word spread the Vault! No harm shall come to this woman, lest I hear of it; and if I do, you will earn a punishment worse than the humiliation Lawrence has earned!”

While the rowdiness of the Vault outside the tavern was loud as ever, the crowd around the arena held silence. This demonstration was very unlike the good Count of In Pace. 

“Oh,” Martin sighed, “Don’t look at me so. After all, my friends, I still love you, don’t I?” He held up a bag of gold coins, nothing compared to the vastness of the nobleman’s pocket. Drinks would be on him tonight.

“Be merry!” Martin declared, “And show kindness to Lyonesse, because I ever hear of any unkindness done upon her, your life is mine!”

So the patrons of the tavern cheered, and drank, and did not forget their promise to their lord for the time being. Lyonesse’s wound was tended, and she was given the remaining night to rest in her chambers, unsure of what to think of all that occurred. 

The next day, a note was posted on the entrance door, relaying Martin’s commands, and they were well followed.

The many visitors in the Vault who had no idea who Lyonesse was were quick to learn, according to Martin’s will. Her name was a common word in those accursed halls as of late; managers and some of the other prisoners had come to be angry with the lady Lyonesse and the unfair treatment she received. Rumours spread that the good Count had fallen in love with her. 

Could you believe it? Surely Lord Northe was losing his ways. 

This of course was not the truth. The good Count had no love for the tavern worker, and his ways were long lost. He kept that fact to himself for now. And when someone asked, he only grinned and politely reminded them that it wasn’t any of their business. 

Let them believe what they want, Martin thought to himself one night over a glass of wine, I know the truth. They don’t. And neither does she… He laughed, finished his drink, and poured himself another. 

The good Count stood in his castle, staring out the window of the room that would soon be shared with Lyonesse. He gazed beyond the lights of the rose city Lucksworth, and into the distant twinkle of Brissland. The Vault was buried deep within that small twinkle, and so was Lyonesse. 

“She is mine!” he drunkenly cackled to himself. 

He thrust his hands into the air, forgetting the goblet in his hand. Wine splashed out and landed on his face and clothes. He drank the rest and wandered off to bed, dreaming of the night he would share with the beautiful tavern worker. The many, many nights, he assured himself. 

2

Martin Northe had a plan. 

Over the course of the next few months he planned. And he waited. He went on the occasional walk with Lyonesse, and he waited more. The walks only added to the lady’s strange new feelings. Things seemed bright, something she had not known before.

They met at the clearing outside the Vault’s great oak doors once a week at sundown. A guard accompanied her to the door, and people tipped their hats and bid her a good evening. Suddenly everyone was an old friend. Some even offered compliments, not the disgusting and patronising comments she received before; they were kind, almost genuine. Martin’s orders were well followed. 

Every week Martin came with a warm smile and a gift held behind his back. Their walk would take them past the Vault’s large stable, down a trail under alder trees, to the banks of Westwood River.

One night, he brought her a blue shiny stone that he claimed brought out her eyes. The good Count knew that his lady’s eyes were radiant enough, and did not need any complimentary jewellery, but in his castle he drank his wine and rubbed his hands when he first bought the stone. 

Like all women, she is simple and peasant-brained. I must keep up this game. Keep up the game and all will go well.

To Lyonesse there was nothing better than the time she shared with the Count of In Pace; the beauty of the nights walking under the blue alder in Brissland, while the Naira glowed faintly and danced above their heads. But she was a young woman born of the Vault. She couldn’t have known better. 

Another night they met again. 

“Hi-ho, Lyonesse! How do you fare?”

“Well, milord!” she answered, “Yourself?”

She met him at the edge of the trees. He took her hand and kissed it.

“Always better when you’re here, my lady.”

She laughed at that, partly flattered, embarrassed and surprised. 

“You treat me better than I deserve, Your Excellency.” she said.

“Who’s to say you’re not better than you might think?” Martin retorted. 

Lyonesse laughed again. The sun stood lazily in the sky, drifting slowly to make its journey to the other side of the world. A few stars began to peek through their little spots in the sky, and the forest came to life with the approaching night. 

It started with its hum, as nights in the enchanted forest do. A soft rumble that would eventually rise to a faint note that would be the pedal tone of the night’s song. Then there was a soft percussion that echoed through the trees. 

Lyonesse thought mayhaps it was the laughter of the Naira, hiding in their little tree-houses, and indeed it was. 

As the percussion began to pick up a rhythm, the Naira came out of hiding. They were small, fascinating creatures, especially to Lyonesse, who had never seen the exotic creatures  from inside the Vault. 

Their bodies were translucent, and about six inches in length. They flew between the trees on gorgeous wings that glowed with varying shades of blue and green as the sun sank deeper. They carried strange little instruments. Some were silent, for it was not their turn to play. 

As the sky turned dark, and the leaves started to glow, the other Naira joined the tune. Some played strings, others played pipes. Their music flowed through the air, enchanting Lyonesse with wonder and a vague sense of nostalgia for a life she never lived. It was a sweet tune.

They walked down the river hand in hand, watching the rest of the sunset while the Naira played their song. 

And when the sun finished setting, the stars were perfectly in place against the night sky. The way they twinkled, Lyonesse thought the stars were dancing to the Naira’s tune. And why not? Everything seemed like it had fallen into place when she walked with Martin. 

Before, Lyonesse hadn’t seen things like stars and trees and the Naira, but now she would see them once every so often. As she would see Martin once every so often.

It was a comforting thought. 

They sat by the water and looked at the stars. 

Her hand rested flat in the grass, weaving its way here and there between her fingers. She liked the feel of the cool earth. The dirt and grime out here was preferable to that in the Vault. This dirt was special. This place was special. She found herself thinking of that pretty little ribbon again, that precious little freedom. She held these feelings close to her heart. For a moment, life seemed beautiful.

She gasped as she felt warmth on the back of her hand, which grew accustomed to the chillness of the night. Lyonesse saw Martin’s hand on top of hers, and looked up to see his smiling face, warm as ever. She smiled back, and returned her gaze to the stars. 

A million feelings raced in her head, all at once. She thought her heart might burst if she couldn’t control herself. She felt her face turn red and tried to dismiss it, hoping Martin wouldn’t notice. He did.

“Why, you look like a cherry, my lady!” Martin said. 

She buried her face in her free hand.

“I’m sorry, milord!” 

Martin laughed and told her not to worry.

Lyonesse supposed it was silly to apologize over something so small. She sighed and fell in the grass as the night air danced around her. The song of the forest continued playing.

Sprites gathered around the couple and danced. Almost as if putting on a show. They moved as they pleased, following the measure of an improvised song. 

Lyonesse sat back up to watch as blue light shone on her beaming face. Martin watched her as she silently applauded her dancing friends.

One of the dancers floated toward her, a blue ball of light drifting along, darting this way and that while it continued its dance. The creature stopped inches away from the lady’s face, and twirled around in its place. 

Lyonesse marveled at the little Nairin. She laughed and clapped her hands silently. The dancer took note of this, and gave her a wink of thanks. Then, it paused and bent to kiss her nose. Lyonesse giggled, and the dancer darted away with a wink at the young lady. She laughed again. 

“You’ve made a new friend, my lady!” Martin said.

“It would seem so, milord!” Lyonesse replied.

They calmed down again, and once more, Lyonesse returned her gaze to the stars while Martin watched, and waited. 

Soon, soon, he argued with himself, Soon, oh soon! 

No! he retorted, No no no! I’ve waited long enough! I must have her now!

Now it was his turn for a shaky breath.. Luckily, he was able to keep his emotions in check. 

He thought these dark thoughts in silence, behind the friendly mask he wore. Lyonesse wasn’t quite as good at hiding her emotions--her flustered behaviour earlier betrayed that much–and that was just fine with the Count. It told him that he could read her. It told him his plan was working. He offered his hand to her again and she gratefully accepted. 

The song of the forest only enhanced the joy Lyonesse had. She turned her head and caught Martin watching her closely. She blushed more.

“What is it?” she asked.

Martin said nothing. He only studied her.

“My lord?” she tried again. 

“Forgive me, my lady,” Martin finally answered, “I was lost in your beauty.”

Lyonesse was unsure how to respond at first. After a spell, she found the right words.

“What is this?” she asked, “That you, a nobleman, should say such kind things to me?”

“Dingy clothes…” Martin thought aloud, and then stood up, lifting up Lyonesse with him. 

They stood there with her hands clasped in his. 

Lyonesse said nothing. Martin looked out to the river, and then back to her.

“If it would please you, I can give you better clothes. I could even buy you a dress, if it pleases you. A real one. You say I treat you better than you deserve?” Martin looked into her eyes, “I can prove to you that you deserve better.”

Lyonesse stared with wide eyes, bewildered at the things the nobleman was saying. This has to be some kind of strange dream. It must be. 

But after all, here she was, and there he was. This was real, so it would seem. This was no dream.

“The rumours are true,” he lied, “You’ve heard them, no doubt.” He kissed her hands, and, looking back into her eyes, lied to her once more.

“Lyonesse, you truly are a rose among thorns, and it is shameful to see that you should dwell in the Vault. I offer all my heart in hopes that you will accept, come with me, away from these thorns, fair rose. To live in my castle.”

It was only then that the lady realised that her lord dropped a ring in her hands. 

Lyonesse reacted so suddenly it startled Martin. Before he himself could react, he found himself wrapped in her arms. Her cheek, wet with tears, pressed against his chest.

“Oh, Martin!” she cried, “I accept your heart with all of mine! Each moment we share is a moment of sweet freedom, and it would fill my soul with joy to spend each moment to live freely with you!”

Martin wrapped his arms around her as well. She looked up from his chest, and now it was her turn to look into his eyes.

“My lord,” she whispered, “I love you, too.”

They kissed under the stars, and under the light and song of the Naira. 

The song of the forest went on and faded away with the sunrise, but they would be long gone by then. And within the hour, they would begin their southward journey, hand in hand.

They walked back to the Vault entrance. Martin sent one of the guards outside to escort Lyonesse downstairs, while he stayed behind to attend to other matters; loose ends before the journey began. 

First, he had to make an announcement to clear any confusion as to how he felt for the Lyonesse. Then, the count would need to arrange a replacement for her at the tavern. And of course, there were the means of transportation; food, provisions and such. 

Packing would be easy, since the count already lived at his castle, and Lyonesse only had her dingy clothes and the few gifts he had given her. Martin promised she would have much more. Of his many promises, that was one he kept.

But first thing first. The count cleared his throat and leapt upon a table near the stairway.

“My friends!” he started with a hand in the air, “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you early tonight, and I have something to confess!”

The crowd waited, while Martin motioned theatrically on the table. 

“It has come to my attention–that there is a rumour going around. That I have fallen in love with the tavern worker named Lyonesse. A rich and powerful man like me made victim to the fickle winds of romance. That I, the Lord of In Pace County, have fallen for a humble slave in one of my very own establishments. My friends, I tell you it is true!”

There were murmurs in the room, but most sat in silence before Martin continued.  

“Do not take me for a fool. I am well aware of every word and whisper within my domain. People say that I have known many women, and that I have fathered many children. How these slanders came to be, I have no idea. For Lyonesse Wes is my first and only love.

And for those of you who think unkindly of my humble engagement, I’ll have you all know that every one of you is beneath me. While my love may be nothing more than a slave now, once she’s married to me…” 

Martin trailed off, as if he forgot the point of his speech. Nonetheless, the crowd roared with congratulations and pride in their lord.

“Cheer, you should!” Martin roared back, “This is a happy time indeed! She’s agreed to come with me to my castle!”

Another roar. The tavern filled with praise for the count. The word would spread. As much as Martin wanted to stay and hear every last compliment from his subjects, he still had other matters to attend to.

Transportation shouldn’t be a problem. He thought, What about food? Food, yes, food… I have enough for myself, but I may have to arrange something for the woman. 

The patrons went about their business, celebrating Martin’s achievement. It was just one more reason to eat, drink, and be merry. Martin hopped off the table and called for a guard outside. The guard stepped through the doorway and scanned the room for Martin.

“Over here!” Martin called, “Make haste, there’s little time!”

The guard met Martin by the table, and inquired how he may serve his lord. 

“I assume you’ve heard my announcement from outside?” Martin asked.

“Yessir,” the guard answered, “and congratulations, my lord. Is that what you summoned me for? Would you like assistance to prepare the ride home?”

Martin grinned. This guard, whoever he was, was a smart man. 

“Precisely, my friend.” Martin said, patting the guards shoulder, “Have you seen Sir Eldred?”

“I saw him enter with you, my lord. I don’t know where he is now.”

“I see.” Perhaps not as smart as the count first thought. Martin pulled his hand from the guard’s shoulder and put it to his chin.

“Could you fetch him for me, please?”

The guard dropped to one knee, “Yes, my lord.”

“Thank you, good sir. If and when you find him, tell him to gather his men and meet me at the stable.”

“Yes, my lord.” the guard repeated. He stood up and moved quickly to find Sir Eldred.

Perfect. Martin left the tavern to make his way for the stables. He passed an empty prison tower, where only his most vile offenders were sent. 

Crickets chirped, and he could faintly hear the song of the forest echo in the trees. Every now and then he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. 

He kept himself composed as he moved under torch light, but he felt as though his heart would burst with excitement.  

When the count finally reached the stable, he checked behind him one last time. No one was there. He poked his head through the doorway to make sure no one was inside, and then slipped through the door, closing it as he did.

He sighed, then palmed his forehead. 

“Yes…” he whispered, and thrust his fists into the air, and cackled at the ceiling. “HAHA! YES!!”

The count cackled as he walked to his black horse.

“I’ve done it, Walter!” Martin shouted, “Everything is going according to plan!”

He opened the top half of the stall, and reached over to pat the horse’s neck. Walter stared at his master with large blank eyes. 

Martin pulled his horse tacks off a large wooden rack, then slung them across his forearm as he grabbed a blanket from an adjacent shelf. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a large basket filled to the brim with apples by the shelf. Why not? He thought. It was a good night, after all. 

He put the blanket under the saddle, selected a golden apple from the basket, and walked back to Walter, who poked a sniffing snout over the gate.

Martin gave Walter the apple and opened the bottom half of the stall. While the horse chewed with great delight, Martin tacked up. 

“You wanted to see me, my lord?”

Enter Sir Eldred Blackwood.

His hair was slicked and dyed black. Not unlike Martin’s, though the count’s hair was naturally dark and had two white stripes on the sides of his head. Eldred had a thin and sprucely ducktail beard. Not unlike Martin’s. And as a commander of Martin’s men, he was issued a custom uniform, which in a fashion, resembled Martin’s casual style. 

There was something about this that Martin liked, though if asked, he wouldn’t be able to place his finger on it. 

“Yes,” Martin said, “Are you and your men prepared?”

“Almost, my lord.”

“What about provisions? Do we have enough food for one more?”

Eldred paused, thinking. “I think so, my lord.”

Martin arched a brow. 

“You think so?”

Another pause. “We can manage it.”

“Good. Where are your men now?”

“Just outside. Awaiting orders, my lord.”

Martin walked to the door, tugging Walter on the reins. Sure enough, fourteen armed men stood steadfast and ready. 

Martin hitched Walter to a wooden rail by the door and ordered Eldred to finish preparing while he fetched his lady love. The count made his way back to the entrance as Eldred barked orders of his own and they filed inside the stable to make the final preparations for their journey southward.

3

The guard marched with Lyonesse through the maze of corridors, taverns, and staircases, to the dungeons of the Vault. It was dimly lit by torches on the wall, and moss grew in between stones. Guards were stationed at every checkpoint. Some sat and played cards, some with each other, some with the prisoners. Lyonesse was escorted without speaking, and no one spoke a word.

They reached her room.

The dungeons smelled of dirt and smoke and human filth. It was not a smell the tavern worker would miss, and she realised this as it filled her nose one last time. 

The walls were lined with wooden cots. There were no pillows, and there were no blankets, just the unsanded wood for a mattress. 

One bunk, however, stood out from the rest. In the far corner of the large room, a small chest rested under the foot of the bed, on the stone floor. It was another gift from Martin.

Lyonesse grabbed a key that hung around her neck and opened the chest, to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. Her hands shuffled through the box, checking each individual item. The necklace and mirror were there. Another gift too: a small, green, leather bound book. The Eternal Return was a magical book with infinite pages, and it was filled with songs and stories that she loved to read.

She giggled with glee and closed the box. The guard guided her with the chest back through the dungeons and up the stairs, around the hellish arena and out the entrance. 

*****

Lyonesse waited patiently with the guard outside the entrance before a large leering crowd. Word had gotten around, apparently. She held her box closer to her chest. 

Martin approached the lady and offered his hand, which she gracefully accepted. Hand in hand, they sauntered over to Walter. The crowd and the guardsmen watched attentively. 

Lyonesse couldn’t help but smile, and Martin couldn’t help but grin. She gave the chest to one of the guardsmen for safety and mounted Walter with the count. 

Everything was all said and done. They were ready to depart, and so Martin waved goodbye to his patrons. Then he turned to Eldred. Martin nodded toward the hidden trail that swept through the forest of Brissland. 

“Lead the way, Sir Eldred.” he said.

“Yes, my lord.” Eldred replied, then raised his hand to give command:

“HI-HO, GUARDSMEN! FOR-WARD! TO THE CASTLE!”

And along they were. Lyonesse wrapped her arms tightly around the man who freed her.

4

They stopped, for a time, in Lucksworth. Martin was saddlesore, and wanted to treat himself to the city’s delights.  

While they tarried, their horses were stabled in Across the Board, one of Martin’s urban establishments. His estate stretched far through the county, even outside his governing authority.

His personal guards escorted them down pearly streets. After a few blocks of walking, Lyonesse took the good Count’s hand. She was nervous, in a world bigger and completely alien from her own. Martin did his best not to react, struggled even, to keep a calm manner. He offered a fake smile to Lyonesse when she looked at him. By Babylon, how he suddenly hated affection!

“Are you alright?” Lyonesse asked.

Martin quickly collected himself. 

“Yes, my love. A little tired and hungry, mayhaps.” 

Lyonesse said she felt the same. Martin called to his best man, “Sir Eldred! What would you and your men say to food and rest?”

The guardsmen cheered.

“I don’t think anyone’s arguing against the idea, my Lord.” Eldred smiled. 

“How about it, my lady?” Martin asked, “Where would you like to go?”

“Well…” Lyonesse scanned the street, examining the different taverns and restaurants. She was not sure how to feel as memories of the past echoed softly, in the back of her mind. There were many pubs in Lucksworth, could there be as many as the Vault? Maybe more? 

Well of course there were. Hadn’t she learned anything from The Eternal Return? Wasn’t the world wider and much brighter outside the Vault? There was a sun and smiling clouds in the sky, there was a warmth in the afternoon air, and a refreshing breeze to tame them. This was the world outside the Vault. 

Her eyes stopped at the end of the block. She saw a place that she thought looked nice. 

“What about there?” 

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

Martin agreed, and ordered Eldred and the guardsmen to follow him and Lyonesse across the road. As they walked, Martin studied the saloon and told Lyonesse that she had made a good choice. He did not really think so, but it would keep her distracted while he visited another of his establishments. The sign above its porch read: THE OLD CREEP N’ KEEP’.

When they entered, two stairways led to room doors by the back walls, and the bar stood in the corner of the inn, where the stairs met one another. A man of forty years stood behind the counter. He smiled at the company as they entered. 

“Hi-ho, Lord Martin!” the barkeep called, “How goes the Count and county?”

“Fine and well! How’s business, Keith?”

“All’s well here, milord! How may I serve you?”

They made arrangements and ordered their late breakfast. The guards filled a good few tables, and they ate and they drank with much joy. Martin and Lyonesse sat at their own table. 

She kept to herself, and thought back to the Vault. The way things used to be, how she and many others suffered. At the Vault, the slaves always kept to themselves. Especially the fighters, who had no choice but to save their interactions for the arena. There were no friends in the Vault. It was an unspoken rule.

Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but feel a touch of pity for the slaves. After all, she was one of them. She decided she would bring it up later, when they settled down at what would soon be her home. Mayhaps something could be done. Martin would listen to her, wouldn’t he?

When the good Count was finished he excused himself, proclaiming that he had business to take care of in the city.

“I’m sorry that I cannot spend this night with you,” he said, “For I am a man with many responsibilities. After all, I am still the count of the county.”

“It’s alright, I understand.” said Lyonesse. But in her heart, she didn’t understand. What was so important that would take Martin all night? 

The count whispered in Eldred’s ear, and the man nodded. Eldred stood and ordered his men to stay. Before Martin and his best man could make it out the doorway, however, a red haired knight appeared before them.

“Sir Gareth!” Martin called, “What brings you here?”

The red-haired knight knelt before Martin. 

“I heard news of your engagement, milord, and came to congratulate you. I have also come to inform you that the Owl Bridge has been secured. No men were lost.” 

“That is excellent news, Sir Gareth! Reliable as always. Eldred and I were just on our way to the Cat’s Meow–would you like to join us?”

Gareth hesitated to answer. He looked through the doorway, where his eyes met Lyonesse. She thought she saw disappointment in those eyes, but not for her. The man looked back at Martin. Gareth bowed his head, and whispered.  

“You honour me with the invitation, milord. But I must decline. As a knight of the county, I must stay true to my oaths.”

“Very well. Then you may stay here, and protect my fiance.” said Martin.

“As you say, milord.” 

 And with that, Martin and Eldred left the scene. Gareth joined the other guards in their meal, but he did not drink with them. 

With Martin gone, and her own meal finished, Lyonesse saw the bussers wander in and out of the kitchen. She walked over to the bar counter, and asked Kieth if there was anything she could help with. 

This caught the bartender off guard. First he gave a look of confusion, and then he laughed.

“Don’t you worry about that, milady!” Kieth said, “I pay people good money to do their job, so you just sit there and enjoy yourself!”

“Oh…” 

She supposed it was a rather silly thing to ask. This wasn’t the Vault, and from her understanding, the workers here were not slaves. She filed her thoughts away. For now.

“Would you be the lady Lyonesse, my lady?” a voice asked. 

Lyonesse nearly jumped. At her side was Sir Gareth. His hair was curly, and his face freckled. “Sorry, my lady. I didn't mean to frighten you.” he said. 

Like with Martin, the man took a knee. Then he took her hand into his own, and kissed it. He rose, and handed the lady a rose. 

“You didn’t frighten me. I was just surprised. Yes, I am Lyonesse. Who are you, and why do you kiss my hand and give me a rose?”

“I am Sir Gareth of Lothian, son of the late King Lothian and the reigning Queen Annabel Lee. I am a knight of the church, and kiss your hand with courtesy. The rose is a token of great importance to the church, and I gave you one as a sign of admiration. It matches your beauty, do you not think?”

The lady’s face went as red as the rose, and Gareth smiled. And then he frowned. 

“What troubles you, Sir Gareth?” asked Lyonesse.

 “It is nothing. Did Lord Martin tell you where he went?”

“He told me that he would be busy tonight. Are you sure something is not wrong?”

“It really is nothing. Only sometimes, I am bothered that the count is not a man of God. If you would excuse me, my lady, I must retire for the evening. And please, don’t mind my thoughts, for they are none of my business.” 

The company stayed in Lucksworth for the night, and the next day. Martin was too busy to see Lyonesse at all, but his guards made sure she wast taken care of. She did not see Gareth that day either, for he was at the church. Martin’s men escorted her to see the city sights. Lucksworth was a big place, after all, and it was a fine time indeed.

But she still thought of the slaves at the Vault. And the seed in her head only grew as time went on.

9

As they left Lucksworth, the company was joined by two more people. The first of which was Gareth, who lived in the donjon of Martin’s castle. The second was a woman, who rode beside Martin and Lyonesse. She had black hair and a blue dress, and she did not look pleased. 

“Who is that woman?” Lyonesse asked the count. 

At first, Martin seemed to be caught off guard by the question. “Oh! Uh… Nobody! Actually, this is your new maidservant. Her name is Luna. She will keep you company and help you with your… womanly needs? I thought you might need a friend, who would also be unfamiliar with the castle. Someone you could relate to.”

Martin’s face beamed with pride at his answer. 

“My servant?” asked Lyonesse. She never had a servant before, and she was unsure how to feel about it. Luna certainly did not seem happy.

After three more days of riding, they arrived at dusk. The count made sure the stablemaster cared for his horses, and he dismissed his guards. 

As they filed out the door, Gareth kissed Lyonesse’s hand and said, “It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady. May we meet again soon.” 

He shook Martin’s hand, wished the couple peace and love, and retired to his quarters.

Martin guided Lyonesse and Luna to the master chambers. Luna stood against the wall still and quiet while Martin showed Lyonesse the room.  

Once Lyonesse was familiar and comfortable, Martin sighed and turned to her.

“I’m sorry, my love.” he said, “I’m afraid I’m still the count of In Pace, and the count still has his duties. I’ll see you tonight, my lady, I promise.”

“Oh…” said Lyonesse, “I understand.” 

Martin kissed her cheek. 

“In the meantime,” he gestured to the maid, “Luna can help you with whatever you may need. She knows her way around the castle, and knows how to pass the time.”

“I thought you said she was unfamiliar with the castle.”

Martin kissed her cheek again, then he was on his way out the door. “Did I?” he said quickly. “Well, she hasn’t been around too much.” 

And then he was gone.

Lyonesse sat on the large mattress, confused. It was much nicer than the one she had in the dungeons of the Vault. And still, something was wrong. She found her book, and held it close to her. 

Luna noted this, and she smiled. “You like books, milady?”

Lyonesse nodded, “I do. This is the only one I own, but it’s more than enough.”

“What’s it about?” 

“Everything. It’s kind of like one long song that doesn’t end. You can even hear its instruments when you read it. Would you like to read a verse?” 

Luna hesitated. “I can’t.” she said with shame. 

Lyonesse only smiled. “That’s part of the magic. Neither can I.” 

They sat next to each other and opened the book. When they did, it sang to them;

Pretty hands, pretty hands, pretty hands open this book. 

Sir Beaumains scribbles to look. 

Hear this song which foretells a hook:

Once there was a knight to be, a man of pretty hands and chivalry. 

He searched through sunshine, and he searched through shadow. 

He sang this song for Babylon. 

Right now he writes, and what he writes are the rites of rights. 

For he writes a map to find his Dark Tower, his Eldorado. 

To close the gates of Babylon.

When the song was done, the girls closed the book and looked at one another. They did not know how, but they knew that the song was about Sir Gareth. 

“I wonder what he is looking for,” said Luna. 

But Lyonesse said nothing. She knew exactly what Sir Gareth was questing for. He was trying to find the Vault. But why? What was so special about the Vault? He did not seem like the type of person to drink at its taverns or gamble at its arena. 

Lyonesse decided she would ask Sir Gareth when she got the chance.

*****

Later that night, when Martin came home, Lyonesse parted her eyes from her book to her husband. Martin could not hear the Eternal Return, to him it was just another knick-knack he got for his wife. 

Lyonesse read under candlelight by the closed window. Martin offered her some wine and she accepted. 

They stared out the window, at the forest that glowed and twinkled like a hundred tiny stars beyond the rose city. They wrapped their arms around one another as Lyonesse hummed the song of the forest. It was the same song in her book. Everything was one long song, and it was nice to the ears. 

Lyonesse rested her head on her husband’s chest and whispered; “Thank you for this.”

She looked into Martin's eyes, and they told each other how much they loved one another with a long-lasting kiss.

The wind outside blew open their window. Its breeze extinguished the candle. They were too busy to notice. Eventually, they sauntered to their bed; and with the whip of a blanket and a rush of emotions, they were swept into the night.

10

Martin silently cackled to himself on the balcony that night. He stood in a robe and looked into the stars, generously sipping another goblet of wine. Lyonesse lay asleep under the covers.

Such a foolish girl, his wife. They didn’t even have a wedding. She did not know what it meant to be married. But that was a good thing for the evil Count Martin.

He grinned and toasted silently to himself for his achievement of the night he shared with her, and he knew there would be many more nights. And the more nights they shared, the more interested in her he became. 

But suddenly he lost interest. It was after the birth of his bastard son.

11

Lyonesse and Martin were “wed” less than a week after they arrived at the castle. Lyonesse soon found out that a “wedding” for the count meant whatever he wanted it to mean. Their union did not have to be recognized by the Lord above. 

Jean Wes was born nine months later.

Like a well planted seed of good faith, weighed down by its own soil of lies; a great stiffness grew between the parents of Jean before he was even born. His mother never forgot her slavery in the Vault. One night, she raised the issue at dinner. Lyonesse shared all her feelings to Martin; her sympathy for the other slaves, how she was tormented by the masters and patrons, how the other slaves were similarly tormented. She wanted to see the slaves free, like she was, and she did not want the Vault to be a den of evil.

After she shared the seed in her head, its roots dug deep.

So the count sat silent for a moment. What on earth was the woman yammering on about? Who was she to tell him what to do with his things? 

Martin had no desire to free his prisoners, and he certainly didn’t want to hear any more of a woman’s silly ideas in that regard. It wasn’t their place to have ideas in the first place, he thought. No ideas of any sort. Why couldn’t she be quiet and subservient, like her friend Luna?

This, though, the man did not say. Instead, he said whatever would keep the woman quiet.

“You must remember, my love,” Martin explained, “that not all who work within the walls and halls are innocent like yourself. You see, since I am the count of the county, it is my responsibility to punish criminals. It is thus that there are slaves in the Vault, for it is my duty to keep my subjects safe from murderers and thieves and traitors to the crown.” 

He spoke delicately, and then gave a false pause of consideration. 

“However, I will, at the very least, do my best to free those innocent. Few as they may be.”

And for a time, that answer sufficed. Lyonesse did have friends in the Vault that were thrown in for their crimes. She also thought that most of the crimes were a tad silly. Besides which, not every slave was a criminal. Most were born and raised in the dungeons, like Lyonesse. 

She pressed the question again and again, as time went on. After every press, it pushed Martin's nerves more and more. This he never showed outright, not to her at least. 

The count always said that he was trying his best; but there was always a reason not to. Her seed grew into a stem.

Luckily, she had a place to vent her frustration. Luna had become a close friend, almost a sister to Lyonesse. The women confided many secrets with one another, and found they shared much in common. Neither liked to speak of the Vault, but they both felt the same way, and they both knew it.

****

Near the beginning of her new life, Lyonesse still loved Martin. She thought this whole ordeal would pass; that it would completely wash over, as if there had never been a Vault in Brissland.  

But as the months passed, she understood that was hardly the case. 

And so the seed grew, cultivated by the resentment she held for her once-lover and once-love. 

Lyonesse learned the hard way why Martin really brought her to his castle. She was, after all, reminded so crudely, of her beauty, in the Vault everyday. She was hardly the first woman brought to the castle, and she was hardly the last. 

12

When Jean was born, he was Lyonesse’s dulled joy come alight. This child signified that even an evil man like Martin could be responsible for some small amount of good; however unintentional. Verily, the Lord’s grace would deliver itself from the hands of wickedness.  

Jean had the eyes of his mother, a trait she and Luna were sure the boy would pass to his children, when the time came. The same couldn’t be said of his hair. While it tried to match the same golden hue as Lyonesse’s, Martin’s genes simply wouldn’t allow it. In fact, eyes aside, the boy slowly grew to look more and more like his father. 

As a toddler, Jean quickly earned the nickname “Greensleeves,” after his favorite outfit. A blue mantle over a green-sleeved tunic, which his mother made for him, and he always wore. 

Though quite large and ridiculous over the tiny body of the little boy, Jean did not care. He simply rolled up his sleeves and tucked his shirt into his pants, knowing one day he would eventually grow into them. And they would fit him well. Or so his mother told him. 

“Maybe then, when you're old enough, Queen Danu herself will knight you. She’ll call you ‘Sir Greensleeves of Brissland,’ and you can go on all the adventures in the world. But for now, you’re still just my sweet summer knight,” Lyonesse told her son while tucking him into bed. Then she kissed his cheeks and poked him on the nose. 

****

Unlike Lyonesse, Martin had no such feelings of joy upon seeing Jean. The count quickly got in the habit of calling his son, “the bastard”, and avoided the child at every chance. 

To Martin, the woman just wasn’t as fun, now that she made the mistake of a child. And of course, she was always asking those stupid questions about the Vault. 

Eventually, the count became so fed up with the woman and child, he sent them to live in a separate room in a separate tower. Then at least Martin could enjoy the pleasures of his privacy again. 

Who’s idea was it to get married anyway? The count thought. When he found Sir Kyle, he made sure to strip the rank of the young man and exile Kyle from his castle. He didn’t know Kyle, but Martin was pretty sure he suggested the marriage. Why else would he have done it?

Martin brooded in his chair with a goblet in his hand and thunder over his head. Why indeed?

****

On his third birthday, Jean’s mother judged him old enough to start learning letters. With help from Luna, Lyonesse ensured her son could read and write perfectly by the age of five. He was a bright boy, and caught lessons with a firm grasp. Often, he would use his ever-growing knowledge to challenge his mother in arguments. However, the boy could never find an argument to beat his mother’s, “because I said so,” no matter how hard he tried. Eventually, he learned not to argue with his mother.

A smart boy indeed.  

Jean fell in love with The Eternal Return as soon as his eyes licked its pages, and as soon as his ears savoured its words. He fell under a spell between the old myths of Sir Heinrich and his Grey Knights, the songs of the Starchasers, the revered scriptures, and so on. 

Not only were the heroes as good and brave as Jean himself aspired to be, and not only for the fantastic adventures they went on. While those most certainly helped, the real reason Jean enjoyed them as much as he did was because his mother read and sang with him. And she was an excellent storyteller, who loved the stories as much as he did. 

The book was a treasure in Jean’s eyes. A heavy volume worth its weight in gold. It felt good in his hands, and the smell of its old pages made him feel at home. Even though he did not understand such things, he was sure the book was magic. It certainly enchanted him.

And so the years passed, and the book with its infinite pages, the boy’s imagination expanded every day. What a world it was, that he could not yet see. But his mother promised when he was old enough, he could leave the castle. 

****

One day, Lyonesse and her son were on their way from the courtyard, where they did their reading. Jean’s mother held his hand as they made their way through the stone corridors. Dusty sunlight passed through windows in thick white beams. 

Then the pair happened upon the Count, who was busy as usual. He sat in the middle of a hall with another woman who held his attention, and who laughed as he whispered in her ear.

“Good afternoon, milord.” Lyonesse addressed Martin as she and their son approached.

The Count looked up from the face of the woman, and frowned to see his wife and bastard. He corrected himself and waved to them. Then turned back to the woman and they continued their conversation. Then Jean called out to him.

“Hi-ho, dad!”

For some reason, Martin was startled by this. Then he glared. His narrow eyes passed the woman, and pierced Jean’s heart.

“Never call me that.” he hissed, “If you must address me, you will call me by my name, bastard.”

The woman with the count looked worried and confused. Martin said nothing, but he took her hand before storming off, dragging her along.

At this point, Jean only stood there, with his mother’s hand in his. His eyes were filled with tears, but he didn’t cry until the count left. 

“Oh, my sweet summer knight!” Lyonesse knelt down and wiped away Jean’s face. “What a cruel way to be treated by your father!”

When Jean’s face was dry, she brushed his cheek with her thumb. Jean looked to his mother and hugged her. 

“That man is not my father.” he whispered angrily. Then he continued crying.

Lyonesse picked up her son and carried him back up to his room, patting his head to comfort him along the way. Jean had wept himself to sleep in her arms by the time they reached the door, and so she tucked him into bed. 

Then she sat on her own bed, and wept silent tears of her own. When she finished, she rang the service bell for Luna and waited outside the room. 

Luna arrived shortly after, with a tray of tea and fresh baked cookies.

“Hi-ho, Lyonesse! How-”

Lyonesse hushed the maid and pointed toward her door. Luna understood immediately.

“How is he?” she whispered.

“He’s had a rough day.” Lyonesse answered, “Please, come inside.”

They stepped through the door without speaking a word, so as not to stir the little knight. Luna left her tray on the kitchen table.

Lyonesse poked her head into the other room to check on her son. Still asleep. She beckoned Luna to the balcony, where she told her what had happened. 

*****

Jean woke to the smell of mint and cookies. He rubbed his tired eyes and looked around, realizing he was in his room. He could hear faint voices from the balcony. His mother was talking to Aunt Luna, about what he’d no idea.

He pulled the covers off and slipped out of bed, following the promise of cookies. Seeing the table and tray of tea and cookies, he pulled out a chair and retrieved his treasure.

Cookie in hand, he proceeded to the balcony, nibbling as he went. 

“How cruel of him!” Luna was saying, “I don’t care if he is a nobleman! I hate him! I hate him with all my-”

Lyonesse spotted Jean standing behind the doorway. She hid her face as she dried her tears.

Luna flashed a smile. “Sir Greensleeves, I see you’ve found my cookies!” 

Jean rubbed his eye with one hand and took a bite out of his cookie with the other.

“How are you doing, son?” His mother asked.

“I’m tired,” he answered.

“That’s alright. Would you like me to tuck you back into bed?”

“I want to sit out here with you and Aunt Luna.”

“Please do, Sir Greensleeves!” exclaimed Luna, “I hear you’ve read another story.”

That made him giggle.

“I sure did, Aunt Luna.”

Lyonesse sat her son in her lap. Luna asked Jean about the story they just finished, and Jean was glad to recall it. 

****

When the sun sank low and the orange sky turned purple, Luna left. Lyonesse held her son on the balcony, and pointed out something he should see.

In the distance, moonlight kissed a silver city. Lucksworth, a pristine metropolis shaped like a delicate rose. Jean had seen Lucksworth many times before, especially at night. But it was just as pretty as when he first saw it. He decided, when he was old enough to leave the castle, he would go there one day with his mother. 

However, that was not what Lyonesse intended to show her son.

“Look northward,” she said, still pointing, “beyond the city.” 

Jean did as he was told. 

At first, he saw nothing. Then, a blue shimmer in the forest. 

“What’s that, mom?” he asked.

“That’s Brissland. You could say that’s where I’m from.”

“Were you born there?”

Lyonese paused.

“I don’t know. I think so.”

They sat in silence, admiring the faint glimmer.

“Why does it glow, mom? What is it?”

“It’s because of the naira, my summer knight. That forest is enchanted.”

“The naira?” Jean gasped, “Enchanted forests? Like in The Eternal Return?’’

“The very same,” his mother beamed, “I’ve seen them.”

There was silence again, Jean marveled at his mother, and shifted his gaze back to the forest. This was another place they would visit.

“What was it like there?”

Once more, the woman paused.

“I used to go on walks there with Martin. It was beautiful.The naira would always come out and play their songs at night. Life felt like something out of a story back then.”

She went on to tell him about her life in the Vault, and how Martin had freed her from it.

“Do you love him?” Jean asked.

So many questions, so many hesitations.

“He’s mean.” Jean said.

“I know.” Lyonesse sighed. “I’m sorry, Jean.”

After that, the only thing Jean could think to do was to hug his mother. He felt safe in his mother’s arms. Her hugs made all his fear and pain go away. And she felt the same. She held him close as they watched the moon and stars.  

“I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Jean. And I’ll love you forever. Never forget that.”

He never did.

13

“Hi-ho, foul beast! Here comes Sir Greensleeves, the summer knight! Hero of Lucksworth!”

Jean charged at a tree with a wooden shortsword in hand. The blade was a gift from Sir Gareth for his seventh birthday. Lyonesse, Luna, Gareth, and Jean celebrated the occasion in the castle courtyard. 

Gareth saw something in the child, perhaps pity, or else a past mistake in another life. Because of this, he coached Jean in the ways of life and chivalry whenever he had the time. Sometimes the knight would share lunch with Lyonesse and her son, sometimes he would play games with them. Whatever the case, Gareth made sure they were well. 

He was a kind, if lonely man. The knight had no family of his own, and rarely talked with the rest of Martin's ranks. He shared the ladies’ sentiments about the Vault, and vowed in a hushed whisper that he would do something about it.

*****

Just a few weeks prior, Gareth met Martin in the stables. The knight pointed out to his lord, of Martin’s increasing visits to the vault. The count scoffed, and told Gareth about Lyonesse. How it was the count who freed her, for her hand in marriage. 

Marriage. Gareth thought. Right.

Then he asked, “And what becomes the rest of your prisoners? Do you plan to free them?”

Martin stopped and stared at Gareth. 

“Surely you jest.”

“No, my lord.”

Martin’s face broke into a grin, and he laughed.

No other word was spoken before the count rode away. And Gareth came to realise he held dark feelings for the man he served.

But what could he do? He would do something.

*****

But now, Jean charged a tree.

To the lad with a great imagination, he was not Jean, and it was not a tree. He was Sir Greensleeves of Everleene, and this tree was a terrifying red dragon. One of many that would be felled in defence of Lucksworth. 

Sir Greensleeves swung his sword in the air, and delivered a mighty blow against the beast. giving the beast. 

Like every dragon before it, the creature became nothing more than a fading memory.

Sir Greensleeves saved Lucksworth yet again. Sitting under another tree some yards away, Jean’s mother applauded. She sat on a blanket with Sir Gareth and Luna, all of them just beyond their tower; which they could not stray too far from. Even then, Lyonesse and Jean had to be supervised by one of Martin’s knights. Thus the reason–or mayhaps excuse–for Sir Gareth. 

“I killed it, mom!” Jean declared, “Did you see it? I killed the beast!”

“I saw it!” Lyonesse laughed, “You’re my hero, my summer knight!”

“And a hero of Lucksworth indeed!” Gareth said.

Jean smiled and swung his sword around some more, defending mother and friends from thieves, goblins, and the other dreams of a child. 

They watched while Gareth played a mandolin over his shoulder, and he played a happy tune. It was a simple song, for it was a simple time. 

The sun blazed in the early summer sky. A soft breeze pushed through the trees. To Sir Greensleeves, the wind was a roar from another beast. He charged another tree, laughing all the while. 

*****

That night, Lyonesse and Luna prepared dinner in the tower. When they finished their meal, Gareth played his lute once more, and Jean listened intently.

 It was like the songs of The Eternal Return, but with more life than before. At times, the lad almost thought he could hear voices in the air. Almost like there were spirits singing along with Gareth’s song. 

When it finished, Jean asked for the name of the song.

The knight chuckled.

“I don’t rightly know, Sir Greensleeves,” he said, “It just kind of…came to me.”

“It sounds pretty.” 

“Many thanks, my friend. If you’d like, I’d be happy to teach you how to play it. With your mother’s permission, I could teach you how to swing that sword of yours properly too.”

“Really?” Jean gasped, “Could I, mom?” 

“Well,” Lyonesse said, “Do you promise to be careful?”

“Yes, mom.”

Gareth assured the lady they wouldn’t use any real weapons, just wood, like Jean’s toy. Lyonesse said that would be fine. Just so long as Jean didn’t get hurt. And so, Gareth gave Jean a lute to play, and whenever a string broke, or the instrument became otherwise unplayable, Gareth was always there to fix the damage. And he always knew exactly when and how it happened, even if he was not there to see it. One day, Jean asked Gareth, “How do you know whenever my lute breaks?”

To which Gareth replied, “I know things, young sir.”

And there was a melancholy in that sentence, as if Gareth knew something bad would one day happen. But there was a triumph too, as if it had already been overcome.

14

That was a good summer.

Over the course of the next three months, Jean discovered a new love for music, and learned simple songs with Gareth. At first, he struggled with the notes and chords, but once he caught on, he could tune himself closer to the world around him. Ever faintly, he could hear tales from the earth, from the sky, from the flowers and trees. There was a song all around, and he could pluck strings with it. 

The music made him happy, because it made his mother happy. And to Jean, that was most important. 

And of course, there was the swordplay.

Those lessons weren’t as consistent as the lute, but they happened enough for Jean to learn. They practised in the courtyard, sometimes with a wooden dummy and sometimes with each other. Gareth went easy on the summer knight, of course, and taught him all the proper stances and movements, gradually increasing difficulty as Sir Greensleeves got the hang of things. Jean learned fast, to him, the swordplay was just another part of the song that nature sang. And the more in tune he was with the music around him, the better he became with the blade.

Even if he was only seven years old, the summer knight had the skill of a squire twice his age. 

Lyonesse was glad that Jean had a friend like Gareth. A friend who could teach him the things he liked, and someone who could be a good role model for her son. 

As that summer went on, Lyonesse also grew closer with the knight. Gareth himself respected the lady from the Vault, and admired the love she held for her son and her life, despite everything. 

For the knight knew Lyonesse had seen many dark things, but the light in her eyes was far from faded. After all, she had a duty to her son. And she was determined to make sure her son would have a better life than she ever could. 

Gareth decided that if he had an opportunity to help, he would take it gladly. 

Because he loved her. 

And she loved him.

They knew their feelings for each other, but both were too noble to act on them. Lyonesse was a married woman, and Gareth was a man sworn to chivalry. They could not in good conscience be together, no matter how much their hearts wanted it so.

15

She may have been free from the Vault, but it was clear to Lyonesse that Martin had no intention to do more than that. Before, the count delivered many sweet words, but there was nothing behind them. Though she was no longer a slave, she was still treated as an object to be owned. To be displayed. 

She could only wear what she was told to wear, and was given many windows and gardens to wander, so people could see how beautiful she was. So they could envy Martin and his most precious treasure. But no treasure in the world was enough for Martin.

One night, the evil count had too much to drink, and he brought another woman to his wife’s bed. Lyonesse had put her son to sleep, and discovered Martin's unfaithfulness when she returned to her own room. 

In his state of inebriated ecstasy, the count forgot that he even had a wife!

Distraught and confused, Lyonesse had no idea what to do. The poor woman fled down the tower in a silent fury. She went straight to a garden with tears on her face. Tears that were washed away by rain, and Lyonesse held herself in the cold and wet weather. She remembered everything the count told her. But since their marriage, she always had her suspicions.

Now, she knew her suspicions were true. Every word, every promise, was a lie.

At that very moment, Gareth had just returned to the castle from a very hazardous and stressful quest. When he brought his horse to the stables, he heard a lady cry.

Now, Gareth was a true knight. One of chivalry and honour. And when a man like that hears a lady cry, he sets himself to do something about it. He found Lyonessse crying in the rain. 

He didn't ask what was wrong. He wrapped her in his cape, then brought her to be sheltered with the horses. He gave her a handkerchief to wipe her tears, and then she hugged him. 

Exposed to a flood of emotions, he could only hug her back. 

In that night of embrace, Gareth and Lyonesse finally shared their love for each other. 

*****

Gareth watched the sun rise from his window the next morning. He hadn’t caught a wink of sleep, but he could Lyonesse breathing softly in the bed behind him. He took a breath, savouring the stillness of the moment. Who knew how long this peace would last?

Something warm wrapped around his shoulder and a comforting weight pressed softly on his back.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.” He rolled over and smiled.

They kissed and watched the sun until all was bright and blue.

The lady sighed and found herself lost in the knight’s eyes. She was told that hers were like unto the stars, but she found his to be like unto the sky. If she could have any man in the world, it would be him. She thought about what life would be like, her, him, and Jean. A family. She snickered and rested her head on his chest.

“I should go check on Jean.”

“I’ll come with you.” Gareth offered.

“As nice as that would be, it’s probably better not to risk it.”

As much as he hated it, he knew that Lyonesse was right. Martin could be as unfaithful and cruel as he wanted, but the count wouldn’t stand for a similar betrayal. 

“Lyonesse.” Gareth spoke when the woman reached the door. She stopped. 

“I love you.” He said.

“And I love you, Sir Gareth.” 

She smiled, and left to be with her son.

16

Over the next nine months, Martin acted as if that night never happened. Perhaps it was boredom, or perhaps he was too busy, but the count hadn’t given his wife the attention that he used to all those years ago. There were a lot of nights spent away from the castle, a lot of nights not shared in the tower with Lyonesse. And on the nights he did share with her, Martin was too drunk to notice Lyonesse’s growing stomach. 

*****

One night, Sir Blackwood found his lord at a tavern in the Vault, raving to women all around a table about old triumphs. Eldred told Martin that his wife was in labour. 

The count laughed. 

“Eldred! What is this nonsense you ramble on about? If she’s in labour, then she’s where she should be! Is she doing the dishes? The cooking? Or maybe she’s stealing your job and cleaning the stables. Is that why you’re upset?”

“My lord. She is with child.”

The count chuckled to himself for a moment. Until he realised his knight was not joking.

“WHAT?! For how long?!” 

“Ever since she betrayed herself to Sir Gareth.”

Martin relaxed in his chair. Oh right, he knew that. Ever since…

“SHE WHAT?!”

In his drunken rage, the count leapt from his chair and stormed out the tavern. He assembled every man he could. They met by the stables, where Martin called to his most loyal knight.

“Sir Blackwood! Bring me my cat!”

Eldred stammered.

“Mi-my lord?”

Martin glared at the knight. He did not like to repeat himself.

“Did I stutter?”

“No, My lord. Right away.”

A glass whistle was tied to Sir Eldred’s neck. The knight brought it to his lips and sounded off an awful shriek. 

Then, as if from nowhere, snow started to fall. The earth trembled from the chill. A freezing split stretched into a gaping pit, which swallowed the stable hall. The men heard the sound of a glacier crash, and ice crack, before a shrill roar, like a leather glove scraped across a violin. 

Large claws reached for the edge of the pit, and a beast pulled itself out from within. It had wings of frost upon its back, and teeth like icy daggers. It was Martin’s cat. 

And so naturally, Martin was the first to mount it. 

"High-ho, men! Climb on! To the castle!"

The knights hesitated. When Sir Port of Selway approached the dragon, the earth rumbled. Such was the growling of the beast. 

Sir Eldred patted the younger knight on the back. “Aw. He’s purring. I think he likes you. Hurry up and hop on before Martin notices his cat is hungry.”

With that, Sir Port of Selfway scrambled up. One by one, the rest of the knights followed suit. It was Blackwood that went last, who was even more cautious than the rest.   

The dragon lowered its haunches and clawed the earth, scooping frozen dirt before it launched towards the sky.

*****

At Castle Northe, Gareth stood outside his room, leaning on his bedroom door with his arms folded. It was a trying birth for everyone, but everything turned out alright. Lyonnesse was sleeping with her daughter–his daughter–their daughter–cradled in her arms.  

Luna, who acted as midwife, poured tea for Gareth and herself. In all her years, it was probably the quickest and cleanest conception she’d ever seen. That did not mean it was easy. Childbirth never was. And poor Lyonesse was much too gentle for it. 

Outside the donjon, Jean was playing with Luna’s own son, Andre. Or rather, Jean was playing near Andre, for the other boy had no interest in rough housing. 

“C’mon, D!” the summer knight called, taunting the autumn thief with his toy sword. “Hi-ho! You have been challenged to a duel!” 

Andre ran up an apple tree, and refused to let himself down. 

“No, Sir Greensleeves! You’re too skilled for me! I’d rather be up here!”

“Oh yeah? What can you do from way up there?”

An apple fell by Jean’s feet. “Ha! Gotcha!” cried Andre.

“Ah yes, terrifying.”

“Yes! Fear my wrath, Greensleeves!”

“Sir Thief, fear is for cowards!” 

Another apple fell past Jean’s shoulder. A pinecone was caught in the branches above. The boys tossed projectiles back and forth, neither ever quite hitting their target. The same could be said for their banter. 

But in that warm spring breeze, there turned a sudden chill. A gust of wind and snow rustled the trees. Then came the terrifying roar. 

More than a little frightened, Andre climbed down as fast as he could.

“What’s going on?”

“How would I know?” Jean replied.

A shadow loomed over the boys, they both agreed it was time to go inside. They hurried to the castle to their mothers. Sir Gareth stopped their hurry when they reached the door. 

“Whoa there! Sir Greensleeves, I thought I told you that your mother is not to be disturbed.” 

“But, Sir Gareth!” said Jean.

“This is important!” exclaimed Andre. 

“More important than your mother and sister getting rest? Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.”

“There’s a dragon!” the boys shouted in unison. 

Gareth felt ice slide down his spine. He needed no more explanation. Before the kids could tell what happened; they were running through the woods with Luna, who carried Jean’s little sister, Lyonesse’s sunset princess, in her arms.

Reluctantly, Sir Gareth left the castle to meet the count.

No one had seen him since.