Esteemed Master Freyza,

It pleases me greatly to hear of your intent to offer my people the possibility to sell more commodities, and it would be greatly appreciated to speak with you anon.

As to a meeting over other attributes, I believe confidentiality is at the root of our dealings and therefore will gladly arrange a meeting in my Souchon Palace cabinet. May you be in the vicinity of Norbury Lake one of these days, know you are a welcome guest.

Yours, faithfully,

Katherine R

‘You’re really sending that?’ asked Constance.

Katherine had been knitting on her bed and looked up with great irritation. ‘Quit reading my letters,’ she said.

‘You mean to get to know the ambassador?’ Constance insisted.

Katherine wiggled her brows. ‘You’re so interested by the prospect, you’d almost think there would be an ulterior motive. Yes, Constance, I’m curious as to the ambassador. Dorothy was very pleased to receive his gold. Perhaps if he is as good a man as he is a salesman, I’ll finally have a favourite that the advisers don’t despise.’

‘Hey,’ said Henry, who had just taken a bottle of spirit off of his mouth. ‘They don’t hate me. They don’t hate Walter either.’

Katherine grimaced. ‘Sorry to you lads, but I’m afraid they may. Or rather, they’d like you more if you gave them copious amounts of gold. Do not fret, however. That the sun shines brightly on one, does not mean it cannot shine as brightly on the others…’

Much to Katherine’s great jealousy, the pair of favourites had gathered with the ladies-in-waiting and Katherine herself before heading out. It was one of the things that she truly missed. Though she looked back on her time in the convent with some terror, there were certainly benefits. In Dolcotshire, nobody knew who she was. Rumours of a wayward princess with a bastard daughter made the rounds, but in her habit she was unrecognisable to anyone who had to rely on word of mouth for a physical description, and in the simple clothes she had for labour, nobody saw much of a princess of her. She knew each time she left the convent grounds was a risk, but occasionally, that risk was even an asset.

The first time she had left was with Henry, who had convinced her after their initial meeting when he required the nuns’ medical expertise, to meet in the woods behind the convent. It was not forbidden for Katherine to leave, but highly discouraged given the nature of her stay was to remain out of trouble. After a few trysts in the woods, she trusted the tavern in town also. To her knowledge, she had not been caught in those years, though of course now she had succeeded the crown, each man in the whole province of Dolcotshire had his own Katherine story.

Now, however, with her face on the newest coins, her likeness spread across the country, and the sheer word of mouth that spread accounts of her appearance from border to border, there was no way she even considered it. Even in servant’s clothes, it was too much of a risk. Henry, on the contrary, had become famous in a way that warranted the occasional outing. He had been undisputed as jousting champion, Katherine had famously bet on him many times, and his jousting had made other betters that followed royal example far richer than they had been. Famously unwed, Henry was something of a public spectacle that he enjoyed most of all.

‘We know that the sun shines on Sir Henry regardless,’ Grace said to that effect. ‘Even at night.’

Katherine withdrew her legs and wrapped her arms around them. ‘I just wonder why you’re going, Walter.’

Henry huffed and meant to answer in his stead: ‘The boy’s never had money in his pocket. Same reason I take him to hunts. He might not appear so much like a man, but that does not mean we needn’t develop his manly devotions to hunting, drinking, and women. Archery and the joust will be next. Boys as young and nimble as him often do great on a horse, you know. Look at Charlie.’

‘Charlie is more athletic than he appears clothed,’ Katherine said offhandedly. ‘I can confirm that we cannot compare the two.’

Henry clicked his tongue. ‘Regardless. Athleticism can be built with daily hearty meals, strong ale, and long hours on the horse and the range. On the other hand, courage and chivalry are bred in the tavern — which is where we’re going.’

Constance had been filing her nails with a pumice stone as she listened to them talk. ‘The same way, feminine virtues are bred by learning complicated braids and lying on one’s back while thinking of Ilworth. As God intended. Which are coincidentally our plans for the night.’

‘Yours,’ Grace corrected her.

‘Agreed,’ said Katherine. ‘Anyone who has tempted me to lie on my back and think of Ilworth will be drinking copiously at the Aere or whatever establishment catches your fancy. I suppose I’ll only be thinking of Ilworth.’

Henry got up excitedly and gestured to the boy. ‘I feel like if we continue to let the ladies discourage us from going, we’ll never make it out. Right?’

Walter nodded as weakly as a loose doorknob rattling in its fitting. ‘Right,’ he confirmed.

‘Well, have a good night, both of you,’ said Katherine.

Henry furrowed his brows in protest and walked over to Katherine, then squatted down to be level with her. ‘If I were to come look for you upon my return, would that be of use to you?’ Henry asked.

Katherine grinned. ‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘I suppose we will have to see.’

With his face hovering over hers, he considered whether or not she wanted him to inch in. His uncertainty got the best of him. He stood up and beckoned Walter to come with him. ‘I say, have a night,’ Henry said. ‘Let us go.’

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Norbury Lake was most beautiful by night. During the day all the meritless parts were illuminated and by night, they were hidden. It was simply the stench of excrement in the streets, not the stench as well as the appearance. It was far quieter for the markets had ended. Because the city gates had closed, nobody was loudly passing through in their carriage or on their horse, and fewer people were looking for inns in the capital. Henry and Walter were heading down the Rock in their Sunday best. He may have been famous, but had Henry arrived looking like a vagabond, none of his jousting fanatics would likely recall who he is. He was handsome but not extremely so, with olive-toned skin and black hair, and furthermore a Baradran disposition to his features, which were taut and chiselled. As easily as he could have been a royal knight, and with that, a public secret of a royal favourite, he could also be a hapless vagabond.

The same went for the most part for Walter, who oddly had the more noble features, but who really did belong to the lowest class of people that would find themselves at the tavern. In fact, for a man like him to find himself at a tavern at all was a display of luxury. From where he hailed, there were hardly any taverns to begin with.

The gates were the most populated areas of the city at night, with its taverns and inns strategically placed by it. The port counted as one of these points of entry, but given the plethora of seafaring merchants, privateers and naval ships, those taverns were likely more populated by seamen and swabbers rather than by enthusiastic Norbury Lake natives.

Walter was hesitant when he tied his horse by the trough. ‘Aren’t you afraid to get robbed?’ he asked.

Henry looked over his shoulder to where he could see the castle. ‘What’ll they take? My horse? We can walk back home if we have to. Anything else? You mean on our person? Look at us. Convincingly king’s men. Queen’s men. Nothing I’ve got on me warrants the risk of beheading, I say.’

Walter seemed less afraid of being robbed than he seemed of entering the tavern. ‘Come along,’ Henry said, following with a chuckle meant to incite enthusiasm in both of them. ‘You should be excited.’

Walter obliged, trailing behind Henry like a feral dog at the promise of treats. Henry passed through the entrance and took his first deep breath of the smokey, boozy air. The tavern was small — about the size of the bedrooms he had become used to in his short royal career — and chock full of people, many of whom carrying large goblets of ale, singing along with a sinewy bard who was standing on a makeshift podium only as wide as the man himself, and otherwise making merry. As more and more eyes landed on the pair of men, Henry recognised the importance of himself once more, and even Walter managed a soft smirk.

The first guesses were being whispered. They were dressed like they lived in the castle, that was certain, wearing purple cloaks to signify their allegiance to the queen. ‘Shall I get us some ale, Walter?’ Henry asked amicably and in the earshot of the next people over.

‘Uh,’ he stammered. ‘Fine.’

Henry swaggered over, leaving Walter nearby the entrance, where the cold night’s air still nipped at his exposed neck.

‘Walter,’ said a woman suddenly, leaning over the edge of her seat. ‘Is that Lord or Sir Walter?’

He stood dumbfounded. ‘Sir Walter, my lady,’ he said with some hesitation. ‘And yourself?’

She flashed a grin of crooked teeth, that did not detract from her appearance to Walter. ‘Aha,’ she said. ‘A knight? Like Sir Henry you’ve come with?’

As if he had been called, Henry had come back with two large vessels for drunkenness. ‘Heard my name,’ he said. ‘From a lady, in fact.’

She looked over to Henry as well and withdrew a little into herself. ‘Oh, I needn’t be any trouble,’ she began. ‘Sir Henry, Sir Walter. Just wondering what two veritable sirs are doing in this establishment.’

Coolly, Henry handed the goblet to Walter and gave him a cunning look, as if to catch his attention. ‘If an establishment has stunning young ladies such as yourself, madam, I wonder why not more veritable sirs are going there. If the ale is good, furthermore, why would any veritable sir ever wish to leave?’

He had a hearty laugh over his own statement, and clinked his goblet against hers. ‘I’m just wondering what your name might be. You look like a famous princess.’

She began to blush. ‘Really?’ she asked. When she stood up, the extent of her appearance could be judged. Her face was indeed fair, her hair black and carelessly strewn over her shoulders, and from the tightly squeezed look of her bodice, it appeared the extent of her cleavage was simply from pushing everything as tightly as possible. ‘The name is Theophania.’

Henry raised his brows. ‘Is it?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘What is it to the both of you?’

Walter felt nervousness bubble up in him. ‘I’m going to see the bard now,’ he said to Henry. ‘Don’t leave without me.’

Henry nodded once, before leaning in to Theophania and gesturing her ear to him.

Walter instead pushed himself through the crowd, the bard on his platform like a north star towards which he was venturing. Further from the entrance, fewer had heard Henry call to him, and therefore did not know that they were being passed by a member of the queen’s retinue. They grumbled at him when he nearly stood on their toes and struggled to pass them. When he looked over to the entrance, he thought to have lost Henry, but quickly spotted him, his face hidden by Theophania.

He felt the alcohol enter his system. This was unlike the small ale of his formative years or even the spiced wine of Norbury Castle; it was far stronger than either of these. He felt immediately disoriented in the crowd, with his only anchor point the bard.

The bard’s story was largely fragmented in Walter’s brain, with each fragment struggling to link back to the last. It must have been some sort of folk tale, with princesses and witches and dragons, valiant knights, evil elderly women, the meanest of fathers. Besides, it sped at a rate that Walter’s intoxicated brain could barely handle.

At the same time, Henry withdrew from Theophania, only giving up his grasp on her breasts at the last moment.

‘I’ll have you know, I’ve bet on you before,’ she said slyly.

Henry looked away. ‘Have you, now?’ he asked.

‘M-hm. I technically owe you three silver coins.’

He was trying to spot Walter in the crowd. ‘Are you saying that will make our coming encounter free, Thea?’ he asked pointedly.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Theophania said. ‘Of anyone here, you’re the most likely to have the coin in your purse to pay.’

His smile dropped.

What he had said, he had meant largely in jest. To realise that he had just been making out with a harlot rather than an enthused fan of his sport, had put him off.

‘Well…’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I’ve lost my friend in the crowd.’

She tried to gently take his forearm, but he slipped out of her grasp at once.

Henry did not imagine Walter to be gone, but he cursed the knowledge that he was shorter than most men there, and therefore largely invisible. Unlike Walter, who had been sorry to step on toes or get in anyone’s view of the bard, Henry manoeuvred through the crowd as if he were an escaping thief. He felt more or less like an escaping thief.

Suddenly, he stood eye to eye with Walter, who appeared more sickly and pale than exuberantly enjoying the night.

‘She’s a harlot,’ Henry said at his quizzical face.

Walter frowned. ‘Sorry?’

‘Maybe go back home?’ he asked.

Walter nodded. ‘I guess.’

Unwilling to lose his drunken accomplice, Henry held Walter’s wrist and led him back out. It was dark out, not even illuminated by the moon, which was a small sliver. Their breath fogged up their vision, and Henry was already readying their horses when he heard Walter drop himself down into the dirt.

‘Good show?’ he asked Walter.

Walter just sighed. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think we belong there.’

Henry untied the reins. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Definitely don’t belong there. Would’ve liked to stay a bit longer, but I think any of the ladies who weren’t on the job were likely disinterested by my… interest in the lady’s bosom.’

‘Will you seek Lady Katherine?’ Walter asked as he scrambled to climb his horse.

Henry swung his leg over the horse’s back with far more grace. ‘Will you?’ he asked.

Walter shook his head softly. ‘I’m no use like this,’ he began. ‘I feel limper than a rag.’

The knight eyed him amusedly. ‘No shortage of honesty in you. Especially not with some ale in you.’