“What do you mean?” Mouse asked, blinking at the page boy who stood on the other side of the doorway.

The boy, who had curly red hair and was covered in freckles, shifted but did not falter.

“It is as I have told you, Your Majesty,” he replied. “The order comes straight from General Ralist.”

“One of the largest keeps in Aros,” Mouse said, “and you do not have room for a hundred of my men?”

“I am afraid that is the case, Your Majesty,” the boy answered.

Mouse did not doubt the boy’s sincerity, but she did question the truth of his claim. But just because he believed his master when he said that there was not room for the Empress’s men did not mean that Mouse did.

Given the state of the rooms she herself had been given, she did not doubt that this was merely another one of the General’s attempts to insult and disparage her.

She had been tucked away in a dark and drafty corner of the keep where little sun was allowed in through the windows and where she was certain her path was unlikely to cross with the General’s.

After a moment’s consideration of the page’s words, she sighed.

“Very well,” she said. “But I will require rooms for a few of my personal guard and some beds will need to be brought for the maids.” She paused. “As for the rest,” she shook her head, “I suppose they will have to seek accommodations in the village.”

“Fear not, Your Majesty,” the page said. “I will see that they are recommended somewhere suitable to their stations.”

“Yes,” said Mouse, forcing a smile at the boy. “Please see that you do.”

“Is there anything else that Your Majesty requires?” he asked.

“You might remind Lord Ralist that I am still awaiting an audience,” Mouse replied, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the boy. “Oh, and I should like some water for a bath,” she said. “Warm, preferably.”

She glanced about the dim and sparely furnished chambers behind her.

“And I suppose that means I shall need a basin,” she said.

It felt odd to give the orders herself, but she had not seen Lady Agatha in some time, and she doubted if her own maids had even been told where to find her.

The page bowed.

“Straight away, Your Majesty,” he said.

Though Mouse had been appalled by the General’s own poor behavior, she could not say the same for his household. Sir Conrad had been attentive enough, if lacking in some of the finer points of court decorum, and the page as well had generally pleasing manners.

He was no doubt on his way to becoming a fine knight, thought Mouse.

“If there is nothing else, Your Majesty,” he said, waiting for Mouse to shake her head before producing a sealed parchment.

Mouse looked down at it, searching for signs that it had already been opened but failing to find any.

“It came for you yesterday,” the page said, “by way of royal messenger.”

Mouse furrowed her brow. That’s odd, she thought to herself before remembering to conceal her confusion.

“Thank you,” she said to the boy.

The curly-haired page bowed again and turned to leave down the hall, but Mouse called to him before he had gone more than a few steps.

“If you see your master,” she said, “please thank him for his hospitality and these—” she paused for effect “—resplendent rooms.”

It was a short time later as Mouse sat puzzling over the contents of the letter she had received that half a dozen servants appeared, carrying in a pair of cots and a basin, which Mouse herself directed the delivery of.

None of her own people had yet arrived, and she was just beginning to wonder whether she might not go and search them out. However, just as the last of the water was being brought in for the bath, Lady Agatha slipped into the room.

“Agatha,” Mouse said in surprise, grateful for the girl’s arrival. “I’m glad you have finally found me.”

“As am I,” replied Agatha. “I’ve been looking for the better part of an hour, and if it wasn’t for Lady Signy’s maid, I might never have found you.”

“You were with Lady Signy then?” Mouse asked, closing the door behind the servants when Agatha failed to do so.

“Yes,” the flaxen-haired girl said, throwing herself onto the bed before making a face. “Not very comfortable is it?”

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Mouse laughed.

“I should say not. But it does seem to accurately reflect how Lord Ralist feels about our intrusion,” she said, raising her brows on the last word.

She crossed now to the bath and dipped a hand in the water, pleased to find that it was not as tepid as she feared it might be.

“Do you mind?” she asked, turning to Lady Agatha. “I’ve not seen any of the maids yet, and I fear if I wait for them, I might end up taking something of a cold plunge.”

Agatha smiled and crossed to help Mouse undress.

“Tell me," Mouse said as the girl unfastened her necklace, “what do you think of Pothes Mar? What do you think of Lord Ralist?”

“I have not yet met Lord Ralist,” Agatha said, “and Pothes Mar is certainly a far cry from the capital.” Mouse winced as the girl wrested the crown from her head, taking with it a few strands of hair. “But I do like Lady Signy.”

Mouse watched her as she carried the ornaments to the only table in the room and return to help her off with her gown.

“Tell me more about her,” Mouse said, lifting her arms in anticipation of at last being free of the heavy layers of stiff brocade.

“Well, she is from the Caldiffian royal court, as you know,” said Agatha, digging through the fabric of Mouse’s gown to find the fastenings, “and is the younger cousin of Lady Margarethe.”

“Does she take after her cousin much, I wonder?” Mouse asked, feeling the snug fabric mercifully begin to loosen.

“Oh, I should certainly say so,” replied Agatha, tugging Mouse’s sleeves loose. “She sees much and says even more. It seems she’s been trained in the art of gossip by the Lady herself.”

Mouse laughed. Lady Margarethe was equally renowned for her verbosity and her ability to exaggerate the most mundane of topics. She could be a valuable source of information, if one remembered to take what she said with a grain of salt.

“Did you learn anything interesting from her then?” Mouse asked. Her shoulders were beginning to protest at their prolonged engagement.

“I did, in fact,” answered Agatha, loosening Mouse’s bodice to slip it over her head. “Though I am not certain how much of it I should repeat.”

“Oh?” said Mouse, her curiosity piqued.

Agatha nodded, leaving the top half of Mouse’s gown in a heap upon the floor.

“It is as regards Lady Margarethe and yourself,” she said. “That is, the Empress,” she corrected herself.

“I should very much like to hear it, if you are willing to tell,” said Mouse, stepping carefully out of her skirts.

Agatha bit her lip as Mouse removed her underclothes.

"I'll tell you," she said hesitantly, "but only if you promise not to be cross with me."

"You have my solemn word," said Mouse, drawing a cross over her heart with her finger and stepping over to the bath.

“Well,” Agatha began as Mouse placed a hand on the side of the basin and gingerly stepped in, “Lady Signy said that she was with the General when he learned of your coming to Pothes Mar. The squire came in, Hugo I think his name was, or Hubert maybe, and told the General as everyone was sat down to table that the Empress would soon be on her way. When he heard this, the General said—” but here Agatha paused.

“Go on,” prompted Mouse, lowering herself into the water.

Agatha swallowed, continuing the next part slowly, as if either dreading the reciting of it or being as careful as she could not to miss a word.

“He said, ‘If only Lothar had had the decency to sire a bastard, perhaps none of us would be asked to bow this snub-nosed puterelle of a girl whose only legacy will be that she failed to be born a man.’”

Mouse felt her bottom slide the rest of the way into the bath as her mouth fell open in shock.

She looked up at Agatha, who pressed her lips together, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“No,” Mouse breathed. “Do you think he truly said such a thing?”

Agatha shrugged.

“That is what Lady Signy told me,” she said, passing a cloth to Mouse.

Mouse took the cloth from Agatha’s delicate hand, her mouth still agape.

Under different circumstances, she might have been delighted to hear someone lash at the Empress so unabashedly. She may have even laughed. But the vileness of the condemnation and the fact that it was based on the Empress’s being a woman was enough to make her instead recoil in disgust.

“To think that he makes no endeavor to hide such sentiments,” Mouse murmured, shaking her head. "What must his household think?"

“It is rather reprehensible,” said Agatha.

Mouse dipped the cloth into the water, squeezing it out over her shoulders. No wonder she had been so ill received at the gates of Pothes Mar; the General had not a modicum of respect for the Empress.

“Did Lady Signy say anything else?” Mouse asked, turning her face up to the flaxen-haired girl.

Agatha tilted her head to the side in thought.

“I believe you mentioned something about Lady Margarethe,” prompted Mouse, using the cloth to scrub beneath her arms.

“Oh, yes,” the girl replied. “She said that Lady Margarethe is not really unwell, but that the General had her sent away before you could arrive.”

Mouse laughed in astonishment.

“Is that so?” she said, more as an expression of disbelief than a question. The General’s shamelessness was growing more impressive by the moment. “I suppose she did not say why.”

Agatha shook her head.

“Well, for whatever it might be worth,” said Mouse, “Sir Conrad did not exactly lead me to believe that Lady Margarethe was unwell, only that she was with child.”

“Oh, that part is true,” Agatha said quickly. “In fact, it will be her eighth child if all goes well.”

Mouse reached into the water and rubbed the cloth between her toes.

“That poor woman,” she murmured. “I do feel sorry for her.”

Eight children was a great many for someone Lady Margarethe’s age. She was only a few years older than the Empress, only a few years older than Mouse herself.

“Is there anything else you think bears repeating?” Mouse asked.

Agatha shook her head.

“But there is something I should like to ask you,” she said, “if you do not think it impertinent.”

Mouse laughed.

“You know I am not really the Empress, Agatha,” she said. “Ask me anything.”

“Why do you call him Lord Ralist,” the girl asked, “when everyone else calls him General?”

Mouse rubbed her wet hands across her face and shrugged.

“Because he is not my general,” she answered simply.

Agatha nodded slowly, but Mouse could tell she did not truly understand.

“Lord Ralist was a general in the Arosian army some years ago,” Mouse explained, “and that is part of the reason he earned his lands and titles. But he has since retired, and the army he commands now is a private one.”

“I see,” said Agatha somewhat unconvincingly.

“Even though he has left Her Majesty’s military service,” Mouse continued, “he remains in the Empress’s service as a lord, a vassal.”

She drained the remaining water from the cloth before hanging it over the side of the basin and rising from the water.

“His being called General is more a matter of pride than anything, a way to aggrandize himself. But to the court, and to most people really, he is Lord Ralist,” she said, stepping out of the bath and into the towel Agatha held open for her.

“Oh,” said Agatha, wrinkling her nose in surprise. “So then, what should I call him?”

Mouse rubbed the water from her eyes.

“Call him Lord Ralist,” she said, pulling the towel tightly about her shoulders as a smile crept onto her lips. “If for no other reason than to remind him of his place.”