Gida soared across the open skies of her country, the sun just beginning to crest the horizon as night turned to day. As always, she marvelled at the beauty of her kingdom and, not for the first time, imagined what it must have been like for Gilderbrand, the first of her House, all those years ago when he had first arrived in the yet unnamed Venos.
The Queen liked to imagine that he saw what she did: A land of infinite potential and unending promise. She hadn't seen much of it when she was young. Her father had been a strict man and a stern king, who stuck to tradition as if it were the law of the Great Spirit itself. As a Princess she had felt stifled and contained. Imprisoned behind the gilded walls of the royal palace. She had wished for more back then, to be free of the constraints that her father placed upon her and to see the country that would one day be hers.
She had rebelled, of course, as all young people do. She still had fond memories of her time sneaking out to the Commons and revelling with her friends. They hadn't known who she was then and they treated her as though she was normal, as one of them. It wasn't until later, when the royal guard arrived with Brynyar at their head, that they realised who they had been sharing their lives with. They had left, as they always did. Intimidated by her power, her title, her station. The biting pain of that would never fade. They didn't reject her, but they did turn away. She had promised herself that if she ever had children she wouldn't put them what she had gone through. She had failed in that.
She had pushed Elora away, as her father had once done to her. After making herself the promise to try harder in Dunwellen, she had come up short almost immediately and driven Elora further from her. She wasn't sure how to fix it this time, nor did she know if it was even possible. The Severance was still fresh in her mind. Orin, the Heir, ripping apart the ritual with a turn of his hand, causing Masters to flinch in fear and awe as he Gifted the power of Elora's Element to her with a roar on his lips and rebellion in his eyes. Such power for a man so young. What would he become if left to grow? A force unrivalled was Gida's assumption. She had never met an Heir before but she had read enough of the Masters secrets to know that they are beyond what a normal Knight is capable of matching. Their lives are lived in service to the Hall. At least, they would be in normal circumstances. Even in this, Orin stands apart. His destiny is uncertain and with Elora's fate tied to his, Gida's daughter would share his fate.
“We can talk about it, if you wish?” Julian's voice filled her mind and Gida tried her hardest to resist the warmth his dulcet tones usually caused her to feel. Like the Severance, Gida's anger for her husband was still very fresh.
He was accepting all this. One failed attempt and he was ready to keel over, to grovel before a Knight who wasn't more than a few months old. Why would he do that? Why would he entrust their daughter's life to a complete stranger, one whose future was filled with such uncertainty?
“You know why,” Julian stated firmly. “Do not for one second believe I take this lightly. She is my daughter too, Gida.”
Gida scowled against the wind that flowed across her face and beat her wings harder as she re-established the defences around her mind. She was usually much better at keeping her thoughts private, but everything over the last few days had caused her abilities to fray as her focus was fractured. It was a weakness and one she would need to fix. It was the way she had trained when they had been in the Hall. Find that one thing which could be improved and hammer it until it was iron. Unbreakable.
“Locking me out won't help, love,” Julian reminded gently, “Even without being able to see your thoughts, I can read you like a book.”
Gida brought her wings into her sides and dived towards the ground below. Thankfully they had already left the heavily wooded areas behind them as they made for Myrin at all speed, leaving their army behind in their impatience to return to the seat of their Kingdom. There were other reasons, of course. With Vera being left behind near Paldrum, no Knight of any considerable power was in the city at the moment. That was something that needed to rectified, if only to give the people, common and Noble alike, some semblance of normalcy and safety. This was Gida's reason for leaving as abruptly as they did.
In truth, it had been the King's idea to leave the army behind, much to the chagrin of the head of their personal guard. There was no one among the Monarchs slew of protectors that were capable of keeping up with them while they were moving as fast as they were able. They had complained, of course, as they always did, but they followed orders to the letter and stayed with the bulk of the Venosian forces. Julian wanted to hurry back for a very different reason to his wife. He wanted to speak with young Orin. To break bread before the wound that had festered between the young Knight and themselves became too corrupted to heal. Gida, despite her blatant disapproval of the mercenary, could definitely see the merit of such action. Though she would not tell her husband that.
They had left the army only two days before, still on the slow march home. Gida's wings consumed an incredible amount of Aurum, but with her large pool of the resource and her Smith's incredible control, they planned on reaching Myrin that morning. It was much easier to be efficient when they didn't have to focus on combat. They were powerful enough to put off sleep for quite some time with their Gift of Healing and did so liberally in order to save time. Landings were frequent as they needed to replenish and rest themselves. Continuous flight was something that was still beyond the King and Queen, despite their best efforts. Their Gift was too greedy and consumed far too much power for that to be a realistic possibility, even as strong as they were.
It almost reminded Gida of the old days, when she and Julian were still heirs to the throne and had all of their time to themselves. They would frequently fly out to spend some time alone together, away from the politics of court or the disapproving gaze of her father. If the Queen had been in a better mood, perhaps she would have felt more nostalgic for those times. But all that consumed her now was the bitterness aimed towards the man she loved.
Gida cratered into the ground on one knee, the earth around her cracking and erupting into the air. Her Armour took the strain of the impact and the Queen barely felt the great tremors than ran through the soft dirt beneath her. Her wings beat once to help her keep her balance and the grass around her was flattened by the sudden fluctuation of intense wind.
Julian knew what she wanted and didn't ask anything as he left her body, immediately reforming into the man she so loved, though his kind smile was absent and replaced by a troubled frown. Gida sighed as the power left her, her Armour and wings fading away. Even after all this time, she still felt weakened after being separated from her Bonded partner.
“So, do you wish to talk or do you intend to be silent with me forever? Good luck if that's your goal,” Julian said, utterly unconcerned with the destruction that surrounded them, “You and I both know you can't keep this up for long.”
“Talk?” Gida replied bitingly, walking out of the crater to stand next to her husband, who had the good sense to re-materialise outside of its bounds, “What more is there to say? It seems you have already decided everything on my behalf.”
“You are being petty, Gida,” Julian snapped, his kind features twisted into annoyance, “What would you have us do? You seem to believe that you have all the answers so, please, enlighten me.”
“We should try the Severance again.” Gida said instantly, despite being utterly unconvinced it would take if they attempted it a second time.
“You can't honestly believe that would work?” Julian sounded shocked, “Orin tore the ritual apart and, besides that, it just risks Elora hating us all the more!”
“She is a child!” Gida roared in the face of her husband, “She knows nothing.”
“She is not!” Julian shouted back, not backing down despite just how intimidating his wife could be when she tried, “She is sixteen and fully grown. By the Spirit, Gida, she was about to get married before all this took place.”
“Yes, married to a man of our choosing,” Gida was fuming, her face turning red with fury, “Now she is married to an Heir, one who wields a power that cannot be controlled!”
“By her choosing,” Julian stressed, “She has chosen him. Spirit, we should have listened to her sooner instead of forcing her to watch the man she loves be torn apart by that cursed bloody ritual!”
“Love!?” Gida snorted in derision, “She has no idea what love is. She has built a childish fantasy in her head and plans to live it out to completion. She'll be bored with him in a month and we'll have to pick up the pieces.”
Julian's eyes widened and he stared at his wife as if she was deranged. “Do you truly believe that? How can you be so blind? Did you not see the way she looked at him, the way he looked at her? Better to try and move mountains than separate them, we'd have more success.”
“You have always been a romantic, Julian,” Gida rolled her eyes and turned away from the king, “I see things like they actually are.”
“No, you see things how you wish them to be. You are blinded by hatred, by something that is not even the boy's fault!” Julian pressed forward, trying to get through to his wife, “Orin is not Zelato-”
“-Don't you dare!”
“-and it is unfair to treat him as such. An Element does not cause someone to go bad, Gida. All I've seen from the boy is a need to protect our daughter despite impossible odds. I think that earns him some small amount of leniency. Not to mention the fact that the Element comes from Elora, Gida. Not Orin, but the House of Brand.”
Gida was silent after that and just stared into space, her mind a whirl with all manner of malevolent and self-deprecating thoughts. Julian spoke sense, as he often did, but that did little to move her to a new way of thinking. She had seen too much pain, too much anguish, born of Zelato's cruelty to even consider the fact that his power could be used for good. Because in her mind it was his power, and thus corrupted, tainted by the very idea that he was involved.
“I can't lose another, Julian,” Gida's voice broke, tears beginning to form as her sight became clouded. “I won't lose Elora. No matter what I must do, no matter-”
Julian wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her into a hug, his body warm and comforting as Gida pressed herself against him with a desperation that belied the image of the all powerful warrior-queen. Memories were beginning to bubble to the surface, ones that she had thought long banished.
“My love,” Julian whispered soothingly into her ear, “You worry for nothing. Elora is in no danger and we will not lose her. I swear to you, we can trust this boy with her safety.”
“But how?” Gida muttered, her voice so weak that it threatened to disappear entirely, “How can you know? How can you see the light when all I see is darkness?”
“Because he looks at her in the same way I look at you,” Julian pulled back and took his wife's face in his hands, “and there is nothing in this world I wouldn't do to keep you safe.”
“I can't see it, Julian. I look at him and see Zelato. I see a future in which Elora is dead and our Kingdom is in ashes. I look at him and see the end.”
“Because your fear has taken a hold of you,” Julian smiled, letting the Queen see a hint of the unbridled care he felt for her, “This plan will work, Gida. We will bring Orin under our wing, we will protect and guide them both until the time comes for them to ascend. We will leave this Kingdom better than we left it. This I swear on all those who came before.”
“You barely know him, Julian,” Gida chuckled at her husband's confidence, “You have no idea if he'll be a good king or not.”
“No, I don't,” Julian confessed, “But if I've learned anything over these past few weeks it is that we should trust Elora and so I will. She was never like this with Cellus. They grew together and spent nearly every waking moment with each other, but I've never seen her act like this before. I too thought it was the Bond but this is something more. She has made her decision and I will support her in it. Gida, what are the chances of all of this happening? The wedding, us being trapped in Dunwellen, a mad dash to save us? The Spirit is at work here, or some other force I can barely comprehend. Destiny, my love.”
“You used to say the same thing about us.”
“Then you should know that I mean it,” Julian gently pressed his forehead against his wife's, before wiping the tears from her cheeks, “I'm not worried about Elora. What I am worried about is how exactly we're going to convince her husband to go along with all this. He is not our biggest fan at the moment.”
The Queen hesitated before answering. She found it hard to say her next words. She had always had trouble with social interactions. Not because she was anxious, or shy, but because she didn't want to project weakness. It was a lesson her father had battered into her over the years, mentally and physically. 'A Queen is above reproach', he had said, 'there is no time for hesitation, no time for tears'. Even with Julian, she sometimes found it difficult to tell him what was going on in her head, even if he could sometimes see those thoughts for himself.
“I regretted it, you know,” Gida murmured, her eyes filled with pain and a acute sense of loss. “At the time, it felt right. I felt like I was doing something meaningful, that I was helping her. For the first time I felt like I was actually trying to be a mother. So I ignored her pain, even as she pleaded and begged. I believed I knew best. 'It was the Bond', I told myself, 'There's no way she can mean the things she says'. Then, when it was over and Elora stood there wearing a crown of black flames, I regretted it, Julian. I hated myself for that.”
“Why did you hate yourself?” Julian asked softly.
“Because I failed her again,” Gida smiled and shook her head, “No, not again. I failed at my first real attempt. I know Orin is not Zelato, I always did. But if there was a chance, even the slightest chance, that he could end up like him I needed to remove him from her life. So even after I had failed, both in separating them and in being there for her, I doubled down. I tried to convince myself, and everyone else, that I was right. I only made myself look like a fool.”
“You should try and tell Elora that,” Julian looked sombre, “She would understand.”
Gida snorted in laughter and wiped at her eyes, “Own up to my mistakes? Do you really know so little about me?”
“No, I know you all too well,” The King of Venos smirked, “But that's exactly why you should talk to Elora. She does not know about Zelato.”
“Perhaps,” Gida sounded unconvinced, “Maybe it's time I made the attempt... but properly this time. You could be right.”
“I'm never wrong.” Julian laughed.
“Of course you're not. I will go along with all this, Julian. But that doesn't mean I'm accepting the boy,” Gida warned, “At least one of us needs to remain objective. The slightest hint of him becoming a monster and I'll do everything in my power to separate them.”
“I'm fine with that,” Julian smiled, “Best I speak to the boy alone then. With all due respect, my love, I think most of his ire will be directed at you.”
Gida's eyes narrowed, “But he is not afraid of me. I saw that much in him during the Severance. There is no fear in him. Even when cornered like he was, he fought with everything he had.”
“Is that a tiny morsel of respect I detect?” Julian asked jokingly, his grip around the Queen's waist firming.
“Perhaps a little,” Gida admitted with difficulty, “But respect for an enemy is natural.”
“I hope that one day you will stop thinking of him as an enemy and, if not as a friend, at least an ally. Besides, he's an Heir. One day Elora and Orin will exceed even Vera and Annabelle, its only a matter of time. Imagine the sparring? We might even have to use Sgread. When was the last time we let loose with everything we had?” The King knew the key to his wife's heart was through battle.
“As if I would ever use a Cursed Weapon on my own daughter, Julian,” The Queen snapped, shaking her head in disapproval. As much as she wanted to dismiss the ridiculousness of the idea outright, she was slightly intrigued by the prospect. Even Vera and Annabelle weren't strong enough to make her call out Sgread. She hadn't even done so at Dunwellen, though she and Julian had considered it as an option. The chances of things going wrong were just far too high. She had lost her composure upon seeing Zelato and near drawn the Weapon on instinct. Thank the Spirit Julian had stopped her. Elora was far too close. Not to mention her fleeing army was already on the move nearby. If she hadn't listened, if she'd drawn Sgread... Well, that was a price that Gida was unwilling to pay for the death of only one man. Even him.
“I know what you're doing, my love, but it won't work,” Gida said in a considered tone, “If he hurts Elora, I'll destroy him and everything he holds dear.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Julian replied solemnly, “Come now. We will reach Myrin by mid-morning. I'm hoping we'll be able to sneak in without being seen. I'll send for Orin and we'll talk.”
Gida nodded hesitantly before holding out her hand to her husband, who took it with a light touch, before disappearing into her chest. The Queen still clung onto considerable doubts but she would trust her husband's judgement. At least for now.
She had meant what she said. Julian speaking for Orin had done a lot for his standing in her eyes but she would not be so quick to forget the power he wielded. If she believed he was a threat, even the barest hint of one, she would destroy him.
Black Armour wrapped itself around the Queen's body as void-like wings sprung from her back. Queen Gida of Venos shot into the air and made with all speed towards her home, her heart a little lighter and mind a little more focused on the difficult tasks ahead. For better or worse, her husband was committed to his course and Gida wouldn't try to dissuade him further. Part of her, one which lay at the very centre of her flaming black soul, hoped that he succeeded.
* * *
I left Laird's shop, exhausted and completely run down. Who knew getting a dress and a decent looking tunic would take so bloody long? Thank the Spirit for Embla. The guard captain knew about a lot more than Elora's measurements and thankfully took the initiative to take over for me after Laird started screaming. She didn't jump in right away though and I could've sworn I caught sight of a smirk out of the corner of my eye but chalked it up to my feverish imagination, severely damaged from having to talk about stitching, lace and 'variations on white'. What variation? It's white, so make it white!
Thankfully my old friend was at least understanding about how I had destroyed the emerald outfit he had made me for the day of Elora's first wedding. That was another problem off my mind at least, and I could understand the tailor's frustration towards my blatant ignorance of all things tailoring. Why would Elora send me to do this? I didn't think I'd ever given her the impression that I was into fashion. Spirit, even in the palace I wore the same set of clothes for days at a time, despite being offered more options every morning by Beatrice. I just didn't see the need for such senseless waste. I knew that Nobles liked to vary their wardrobes but a new one every day? That just didn't make sense to me.
Speaking of Beatrice, I wondered how the young maid was doing? I hadn't seen her since before we escaped the palace, during which we used her as an accomplice to contact Boldrin. I hoped that she hadn't been caught by Vera and removed from her position. I hadn't known her for long but being the first commoner to serve in the royal palace no doubt carries with it a tremendous amount of responsibility. She was essentially representing the whole of the Commons. Something that would weigh on the mind of anyone, never mind Beatrice, who I knew to be more than a little prone to giving into panic. Chances were I'd find myself in the palace soon enough and I could check for myself.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
I looked up to see that the sun had already passed it's peak, which caused no small amount of my own panic to bubble to the surface. I had yet to find anything for Elora as a proposal gift. It had sounded like an easy enough errand at the time but I was still unsure as to what she would be expecting. A few members of the band had gotten married during my time with them and I knew that in two instances some form of weapon was given as a gift. Would Elora like a nice dagger? Maybe a sword? No, that didn't seem right, so that left me with jewellery. Gold, maybe?
The problem with that idea was that I really didn't have the funds to buy something like that. I still had much of the money that Boldrin had given me for my last job but it wasn't like I got a monetary reward for saving the King and Queen. I did get Elora, though, which was enough for me. I'd figure something out.
The market was incredibly crowded at this time of day, with many people perusing the various stands as hawkers shouted about their wares at the top of their lungs. I didn't think I would have missed this as much as I did, but the sounds of the Commons, the press of bodies around me and the charged atmosphere alone was enough to put a smile on my face. It was strange to think that just last night it had been the scene of a violent fight between Sig, his men and I. Not a drop of blood remained, at least none that I could see. That wasn't exactly standard in the Commons, but the guard must have hopped to it after being contacted by one of the Princess' personal protection detail. Despite that, I was enjoying being back in my natural surroundings once again.
The only difference between now and the times I had been before were the looks of recognition that some folk were sending my way. I saw them point and whisper, their faces turning pale as they realised that the man who saved the Princess and I were one in the same. More than once I heard my faintly ridiculous title of 'Scarred Knight.' I could only sigh in consternation. Maybe I would be stuck with the nickname after all. Vera was the Knight of the Frozen River, while I was known as 'the guy who'd been cut up too many times'.
It certainly didn't help that I was being escorted by members of the Princess' guard, something that Embla had no intention of hiding and, honestly, it wouldn't have helped even if she had. It was hard to hide four, tall, intimidating female warriors wrapped in the Princess' colours and wielding immaculately maintained swords. I could only stare at their weapons with envy. I had forgotten to grab any form of blade before leaving the orphanage. In my defence, though, Elora didn't really give me much time to get my things together.
I probably could have asked the Princess to borrow her dagger but I really didn't like the idea of her being without some means of self-defence, even with Tessa standing by to guard her. That was another reminder of how frail we were when separated. I had already seen that skill only took you so far, Vera being a prime example. Despite all her power as a Knight, she was practically helpless when separated from Annabelle. If I hadn't stepped in at the wedding, she would have died before reaching her, this I knew to be true.
There was some small degree of hope for the future though. During our time together in the band I had postulated that it would be extremely difficult for me, or someone else, to teach Elora how to defend herself. That was no longer the case. As traumatic as the Severance had been, it had done much more than bring my soul flames closer to the core. Elora and I were no longer sent into fits of rage when either of us was attacked. We could control it and with that control came options. Perhaps soon I could find Elora a training partner to shore up some of her weaknesses. She would need to do so, eventually. Especially when I got a handle on the Gift of the Crown. It was a powerful weapon in our arsenal, not to mention one that Tessa said was only available to an Heir. We couldn't let such an advantage fester.
Just add training to another list of things that would need to be addressed. I had tried briefly on the walk over to condense on the go but I kept slipping out of my soul space when I felt the slightest jostle as some sense of awareness for my physical body remained. Constantly keeping an eye on what was happening in the real world while simultaneously trying to imbue the flames with my consciousness was difficult, bordering on bloody impossible. Still, I felt it was a good exercise in splitting my focus so I had continued to do it. I hadn't improved, but I was realising even small gains were important for a Knight. I had hit the halfway point for compression now and it had only been a couple of months since Elora and had become Knight and Smith. I just hoped my progress wouldn't slow to a crawl now. It seemed like everyone and their mothers was out to end my life, or at the very least make it as miserable as possible. Our stores of Aurum had improved by quite a bit and already I could see the advantage of it. If we had the capacity we had now while fighting Craven I might have been able to stop Boldrin from being hurt, though it was unlikely considering the sheer power difference between me and the yellow-eyed Knight. His progress had exceeded even my own and Elora had said that I had been improving at a rather rapid pace.
Boldrin was another person I would rather not think about. It was part of the reason I hadn't brought up the band with Tess the night before, despite desperately wanting to know the fates of Alec and the other members of his team. I knew he was involved with her obsession, I just felt it. I hoped I didn't see him anytime soon, not until Tessa, Elora and I sorted out this whole mess. I know how I'd react if that was the case.
That made me think of Elora and Tessa talking before I left. What did the Princess say to the mercenary to garner so dramatic a reaction? She had even seemed to forget about Elora touching her, a near unforgivable sin in so far as Tess was concerned.
“It's handled, Lord,” Embla trotted out of the tailor's shop, ripping me from my day-dreaming, “The tailor will have everything ready a few days before the wedding.”
“That's good,” I grunted in response, “Now all I need to do is find some sort of gift for Elora. No idea what I'm going to get, though. I suppose you disapprove of us having this wedding in the first place?”
Embla shook her head after a moment, “I have no opinion either way, Lord. If this is what the Princess desires, then I am duty bound to see it through.”
Yeah, I called bullshit on that but didn't mention it. I could appreciate Embla trying to be neutral in this, it must require some effort. She would have been quick to bring up her objections only yesterday and I saw that as a massive improvement in regards to her opinion of me. I hoped that it would last.
“Understood. Got any hints as to what the Princess would like for a proposal gift?” I asked, trying very hard to keep the desperation out of my voice. I had been so confident this morning but I now chalked that up to still being half-asleep when Elora kicked me out the door with her guard in tow. I really had no idea what she would like. The Princess had implied that anything would do but I wasn't new to women saying one thing and meaning another. I had to put at least some effort into this thing, which would set the tone for how we would spend the rest of our lives together.
Spirit. Was I really ready for this?
Strange to think of at this juncture. Especially as we were already Bonded as Knight and Smith, not to mention married, but I couldn't help thinking about it all the same. I loved Elora, this I knew to be true. I had been with women before, been in relationships before, but it didn't really compare to the admittedly short time I had spent with the Princess. She was different and, for some reason, she had chosen me, a common mercenary, over the Noble prince she was destined for. It was a spit in the face of all the tales told to us as children, but I was glad it had worked in my favour.
I smiled wryly at my own tumultuous thoughts. In truth, none of my worries really mattered. I had thought by this point I would have stopped overthinking things but that didn't seem to be the case. The only thing I needed to be concerned about was one thing and one thing only: I met a girl and wanted to marry her. No more to say about it.
That's the way. Just keep it simple. Don't think about said girl's incredibly hostile parents, or the fact that I'm to become the future King of a country I barely know outside of it's capital. Those were problems for tomorrow. Today was for presents and dresses.
“I do not know, Lord,” came Embla's reply, “Perhaps some form of jewellery?”
Great minds and all that, “I had the same thought. But I don't think I can afford it. Don't suppose you could spot me a hundred gold?”
Embla blanched, her veneer of professionalism slipping as she shivered, “I'm Noble, Lord, but not that Noble.”
“Yeah, that figures,” I sighed and stared up at the clouded sky overhead. We had moved into the colder months now and it wouldn't be long until winter arrived in force, laying thick snow across the greenery of Venos. I had always hated winter. Bad memories.
“If it helps, a proposal gift doesn't have to be something of enormous monetary worth. My father didn't have two coins to rub together when he asked for my mother's hand. He took her to a small piece of land that had been in his family for years. He simply made her a promise. That was his gift.”
“What was the promise?” I asked, surprised that Embla was offering up such intimate details of her family's history.
Embla smiled softly as she stared at the common-folk that passed us by. Even in a moment like this she didn't let her guard down for an instant. “He promised to be a better man than his own father, a known drunkard who commonly borrowed coin. He promised to treat her well and allow her to live a life of comfort.”
“Well, your father has me beaten when it comes to romance,” I replied, happy to have gained a little insight into the stern guard captain, “But I'm afraid I won't be able to copy him there. Elora already has a life of comfort, pretty much anything she desires would appear at a click of her fingers. I don't really know what I can offer her.”
Embla shook her head, “Perhaps that is the point. Stop trying to give her things she already has.”
“What does that mean?”
“I'm unsure myself, Lord. I'm hardly paving the way when it comes to romance,” Embla chuckled, “as much as I dislike it, there must be a reason her Highness chose you over Duke Cellus. Spirit knows I can't see it, but perhaps you'll find your solution there.”
I blinked in wonder, “That was simultaneously insulting and enlightening.”
“I aim to please, Lord.” Embla replied snidely.
The guard captain returned to the shop to grab the other women of my protection detail while I thought on her words. I immediately came up empty. I felt like Embla might be onto something but for the life of me I couldn't see it. What did she mean by give her things she already had? Was there something that only I could give her? I could definitely promise Elora that I'd lead us into more and more dangerous situations with a high likelihood of death. Was that romantic? The men and women of the band had always gravitated towards partners who were dangerous but I really don't think that was what Elora wanted. Perhaps I could-
“Spare a coin, sir?” A beggar bumped against my shoulder, ratty clothes barely clinging to a pale body, face covered with dirtied bandages and greasy, short brown hair cut close to the scalp. The pitiful man tried to press himself close to me, his head bowed low so I couldn't see his eyes. “Please, sir? I'm starving.”
I was surprised for all of second before I finally got my wits about me. I opened my mouth to respond on instinct alone before something stopped me. The man didn't smell. At all.
Beggars in the Commons have a particular aroma, one that is noticeable from quite a ways away, yet this one had managed to sneak up on me without me coining that stomach churning stench. It wouldn't be something anybody in the Commons would've noticed, but I had spent much of my misguided youth around vagabonds, thieves and other destitute remnants of common society. Add to that his clothes. As ripped and torn as they were, they seemed to have only recently been made that way, especially when considering how clean they were.
Huh, imagine that. Maybe I was better with fashion than I had first thought. Well, as long as the fashion somehow involved recent tearing.
Another thing that bothered me was why he was hiding his face. If he truly was a beggar he wouldn't leave himself so open to being attacked, an unfortunately common occurrence in their line of work. 'Don't look them in the eye, but don't turn your back to them neither'. Those were the famous words of a not so famous beggar who had died only days after speaking them. The less fortunate members of the Commons were picked on by those who were a step above them on the social ladder. The Nobles had the commoners, the commoners had the undesirables. Strange that I had never really thought about that before, I had always just accepted it as reality.
My best guess as to why he was keeping his face aimed at the ground? Most likely to avoid showing me his teeth, which I suspected he had a full set of, unlike everyone else who walked the streets and pleaded for coin.
The short brown hair, the narrow but tall frame with lean muscle, all of it pointed to someone I had seen before. What settled it for me was the strangely acute sense of danger that I could feel rolling off the man. Just like that I knew to whom I was speaking.
“Fallen on hard times, Lord Yale?” I asked dryly, watching with no small amount of amusement as the man suddenly seemed to come to a complete stop, “Your act would fool a Noble and even most of the common-folk here, but I'm afraid I've been around too many beggars to not recognise a fake.”
The Lord stared at my shoes for a few seconds, no doubt gathering himself, before he glanced up from his prostrated position, a thin smile across his lips. The same sense of unease settled over my shoulders as was present during our first meeting. The man was definitely accustomed to violence and his thin facade of nicety set my teeth on edge. “I did not expect you to see through my disguise with such ease, Sir Orin. A thousand apologies but discretion has been warranted of late.”
“Discretion is one thing. Hiding as a beggar among the crowds of the Commons is quite another,” I said, taking a step back from the Spymaster, who remained with his head once again bowed towards the ground. I couldn't help but check my surroundings for threats, something that was near impossible because of the afternoon traffic of the markets. Enemies could be anywhere in the crowd and I'd have no way of knowing. “Why are you here, Yale?”
“I can understand you might be feeling a little caught out, but I swear on the King and Queen I have not come to cause you harm.” Yale stated quickly, keeping up his deferential act.
“An easy thing to say,” I replied vaguely, returning my eye to Yale and narrowing it at the Lord of Xesden, “You still haven't answered my question.”
“Apologies again, Sir Orin. I have come at the most urgent request of King Julian.”
“Just the King?” I pushed. I had little dealings with the Queen's Smith and while he struck me as an improvement on his other half, he was still part of the reason Elora and I were put through the Severance.
“Yes, just the King. His Majesty was most insistent on that part. I fear he believes you are not entirely trusting of Queen Gida.”
“He would be right. He would also know that I'm not too trusting of him either,” I said firmly, watching the Spymaster closely.
“He is aware of that and thus sends me in place of a lesser messenger to let you know that this is a serious matter. One which, by his own words, cannot wait,” Yale looked deadly serious, his eyes looking up to meet my own, “He has asked me to invite you to meet with him in the royal palace as soon as possible.”
My eyebrows shot up at that, “A meeting? Last I heard, the King and Queen were still in Paldrum.”
“I'm afraid that information is outdated. The King and Queen arrived home just this morning after leaving the army behind near Paldrum to make their way back with all possible haste.”
“And why would they do that?”
Yale looked up at me again, “To meet with you, Sir Orin. At least, that is what the King said upon arrival.”
“Why the cloak and dagger?” I asked, gesturing to Yale's outfit, “Surely you didn't have to dress up as a beggar just to get my attention.”
Yale chuckled, “I'm afraid this isn't for your sake, Sir Orin, but for mine. Things in Myrin have been tumultuous since you and the Princess... absconded. I have already foiled several attempts on my life. My enemies are watching the palace and would surely act if I openly left the safety of it's walls. Besides, even if they do nothing but watch, I am loathe to give away any information as to my actions for free. So, here I am.”
“I think your disguise might be blown.” I quipped, pointing at the sea of people in the market. More than a few recognised me and surely a couple would wonder why exactly I was talking with a beggar. It wouldn't surprise me if a few among them reported to some manner of Noble. Coin is coin, after all. I had never really liked the idea of it, but I knew that Pater was pretty prolific when it came to passing on information, at least as a youth. Children were a definite commodity in that arena, no one paid them mind except to curse them out when they got underfoot.
“A calculated risk. The King asked me to extend the invite immediately. I've been watching you for three hours now, I could afford to wait no longer. By the time my foes learn of my presence here I intend to be back behind the white walls of the palace. Hopefully to deliver your acceptance to the King.”
“Why would I do that, Yale?” I asked, genuinely curious, “The last time I was face to face with the King of Venos, he and his wife tried to separate me from Elora and exile me to Dunhold. Not to mention they wanted to pin their mistakes on me. That's not exactly giving me a lot of confidence.”
“I understand,” Yale looked pained, “But I implore you to consider it. The King realises how much of a mistake the events in Paldrum were and wishes to make amends. To be perfectly blunt, if he wanted you harmed he would only have to say the word and you would already be dead.”
“Excuse me?” I replied dangerously, suddenly and painfully aware of my lack of weaponry. Elora hadn't given me a lot of time to do so, but I should have thought ahead. In any case, if last night had taught me anything it was that I was pretty deadly with no weapons at all.
“Of course, I am only speaking hypothetically, Sir Orin, but I have had people watching you since you entered the city. Before that even. I am not the only one whose life is in danger as a result of Dunwellen. My people have prevented several attempts on your life since you've left Paldrum. If the King wanted you dead, you would be.”
I furrowed my brows as I looked at the young spymaster, who returned to his act immediately after speaking. If what he said was true, then this man had saved my life. Of course, even if the assassins had gotten to me they'd still have to actually kill me. With Embla, Elora and a whole host of guards, that was easier said than done. Was this a manipulation, trying to being me onside? I didn't know and that fact made my teeth itch. For some reason, owing Yale anything left a bad taste in my mouth. The man had been nothing but polite and cordial to me but I felt like there was some kind of savage beast that dwelt beneath his thin smiles and bright eyes. He was the opposite of Tessa in that way, who wore her predatory instinct on her sleeve.
I couldn't dismiss what he said, however. The King could kill me if he so wanted, I wasn't denying that. Even if the many people he commanded failed, all it would take for him to do me harm was to fly out of the palace and let his Knight do it herself. No, I wasn't worried about being attacked by the King or the Queen. I was Bonded with Elora and it was forever. Harming me would mean hurting her and, even as terrible as they seemed to be as parents, I could tell they loved her. What caused me to hesitate the most was the why of it. Why would the King want to speak to me so soon after Paldrum? Most likely for exactly the reason that Yale said: To make up for the Severance. But how exactly would he do that? I was more than a little curious to find out.
“What about Elora? Why not go to her?”
Yale hesitated before shaking his head, “After I informed the King about her Highness' location he told me to leave her be. He wishes to speak to you alone. 'Man to man', I believe he said.”
“But why? I'll just tell her what we discuss anyway.”
“I believe the King's thinking is that he and his wife's relationship with their daughter is tenuous enough. He believes that if he makes amends with you, it will make interacting with her Highness... easier.”
More curious by the second. I wondered if-
A sword suddenly appeared from over my left shoulder, stopping just short of cutting the Spymaster's jugular. It was Embla's weapon, I recognised, and sure enough the guard captain sidled up beside me in the next instant, her eyes fixed on the beleaguered form of the Lord of Xesden.
That wasn't the most surprisingly part, however. Yale didn't even blink at the blade. His eyes remained fixed on me and his smile sat where it was. For some reason, I found this disturbing. It was almost as if he didn't notice the weapon, or dismissed it as a threat. Either way, it was enough to make me even more cautious of the man.
“Making friends, Lord?” Embla's tone was hostile and sarcastic, a difficult combination, especially given the circumstances. I noticed the other ladies of the guard standing behind her, swords all drawn and their polished armour gleaming as they made their presence known. If we were only getting a few looks before, now we had honest to Spirit spectators, gawking at us with open mouths and worried faces.
“Renewing old acquaintances, Lady Embla,” Yale said brightly, turning his uncomfortable gaze onto the guard captain, “The King has need of your ward.”
Embla blinked at the man twice before recognition blossomed, “Lord Yale. I didn't recognise you.”
“Well, at least the disguise worked on someone. Sir Orin here saw through it in only a few seconds.”
“Uh-huh,” Embla said non-committally, though she made no motion to lower her sword, “I am under strict orders from her Highness to neutralise anyone I deem a threat to Lord Orin's safety.”
“And I suppose that I am included in that list of threats?” Yale replied with an easy smile.
“The thought did cross my mind.” Embla replied idly.
“You serve the Princess, Embla. I serve the highest authority in the land, as I'm sure you remember. The King has asked me to pass along a request, nothing more.”
“I know who you serve, Yale.” Embla replied before hesitantly returning her sword to its sheath. The guard captain seemed to have a problem with the Spymaster.
Even the brief interaction between Embla and Yale was enough for me to increase my admittedly lacking knowledge of the man. I had already known he was dangerous, and now it seemed he had a silver tongue to match. I was beginning to believe that he had purposefully made his disguise imperfect, most likely to make me feel more at ease. He seemed like exactly the sort of person to do such a thing. As Spymaster of Venos he'd hardly overlook something as simple as an odour. He also seemed to have a tenuous relationship with Embla, though whether that extended to other Nobles, I had no way of knowing.
I finally put my finger on exactly why I didn't take to him. Everything about him was a lie. It wouldn't help if he was dressed in silks and laden with perfume, that too would be a falsehood. His features, his hair, his eyes, all of it seemed to be some kind of carefully crafted image. Yale had obviously been in this line of work for a long time, and to reach the point of authority he had at such a young age he must have been two things: Unendingly loyal and incredibly proficient.
The man was an extension of the royal family and seemed to hold their trust. At the very least, that meant I could trust him for as long as I didn't cross the crown. Not more than I already had, anyway. My problem was I just couldn't get a read on him, which made me uneasy. Though I suppose that is exactly the sort of man you would want to be your Spymaster.
“The King has apparently invited me to the palace. He wishes to meet with me alone.” I said by way of explanation, knowing that Embla needed one.
“I see. Should I inform her Highness?” Embla asked, though I noticed her eyes didn't leave Yale. It seemed that she, like me, knew just how much of a threat the Lord was.
“You're assuming I accepted?” I asked with a smile, catching the guard captain's gaze out of the corner of my eye.
In truth, I had decided to go. After everything that happened yesterday, I was more aware of the fact that I couldn't operate alone. I was one half of a whole now. I couldn't afford to be as dismissive of the Nobility as I had been. If Yale had asked me only a week ago, I would have probably spat at his feet, which would have inevitably lead to a difficult fight. Difficult was the key word. Standing there, at that moment, I was unsure if I could beat the Spymaster in battle.
My paranoia could only take me so far. It had left me almost crippled when I had been in the palace just after Bonding with Elora. Despite knowing that no harm could be done to me, I had still laid awake at night and watched the door, afraid that Cellus or some other Noble wanted my head for the crime of breathing. Don't get me wrong, a fair amount of panic welled up inside me at the thought of going to the palace again, of standing in front of the King. Last time I'd done that, I'd almost had my life and Elora taken from me. But I decided to take Yale at his word. If all was not as advertised, I could always leave. It wasn't like I was in any real danger. At least, that was what I was telling myself. If the King wanted to speak to me on even footing, I needed to be man enough to do the same. He was going to be my father-in-law after all, or he already was. Either way, he was a part of Elora's family so I could at least try to talk with him. I would just have to hope that the brief interaction I had with him in Paldrum was actually in line with his character.
Another reason I wanted to go was for Elora's sake. I was the cause for much of the turmoil with her family right now. Well, me and her mother. It didn't sit right with me what she had said this morning, about having no family with her when we married. I knew that if the Sister or the kids couldn't attend it would've been a blow. If I could somehow make peace with at least one half of the royal couple, maybe I could change that. I knew why Elora wanted to have the wedding so soon. It was a validation of our feelings, a reaffirming act of our oath as Knight and Smith. She was afraid that something would happen, something akin to the Severance and that tore me up inside. I had been so focused on my own feelings since Paldrum that I hadn't considered what the Princess must be going through. I intended to change that. As much as Elora said she didn't want them to attend, I knew she loved them deeply and wouldn't dismiss them from such a momentous event lightly. After all, the reason we had left the palace in the first place was to save their lives.
“Embla, if you could send someone back to tell Elora where we'll be going that would be great.” I said, not giving her time to answer my question. “Please let her know that I'll be fine and I'll be back by tonight.”
“Lord, I really think returning to the Princess would-”
“It's fine, Embla,” I smiled confidently at the guard captain, “I'll explain everything to her when I return, proposal gift in tow.”
The guard captain didn't appear to be happy about it and looked like she wanted to say something, but she thankfully didn't question my order and sent one of her warriors on a slow run towards the orphanage as I turned to Yale.
“Does that mean you accept, Sir Orin?” Yale said charmingly, standing straight for once and looking me in the eye.
“I do, Lord Yale.” I still wasn't quite sure if this was a good idea or bad, but I felt like it was something I had to do.
Yale bowed, “For obvious reasons, I will not be able to accompany you, but the royal guard have already been made aware of your imminent arrival.”
“So sure I would accept?” I asked as the Lord of Xesden turned away from me.
“Just a feeling, Sir Orin. The King is a good man and one who works for the benefit of his people. He is also honest, as you are honest. Elora takes after him much more than her mother. I believe you two will get along famously.” Yale grinned once more before walking away. I blinked and he was already gone, vanishing into the screaming masses of the market.
Spymaster indeed.