Watching the crimson and gold streaks of sunset over the bay of Bordeaux from the walls of Fine Keep was a singularly relaxing experience for Sir Edward. His arms were able to rest comfortably against the gentle incline of the crenellated tops of the wall as he observed the forest of masts that blanketed the bay, the fishing fleet and dozens of trade vessels made their way to snug berths alongside Norglander longships and a half dozen of the Duke’s galley’s that kept watch over it all. Beneath the beauty of it all Edward could see the very real wealth that it all represented, his family had never wanted for anything and the sea trade was a large portion of why.

The sea air was fresh in his lungs and tasted of salt and fish, a much more pleasant aroma than the mud and piss of Siegesstand. His mind may have been in turmoil over the developments of the day, his Grandfather had granted him great honour, but more than that he had placed the weight of the succession and the crown on his shoulders, through it all though, there was a

warm feeling in his chest at being home. The politics were there and they would always be a part of his life due to the accident of his birth, but as he looked over the bay at the view he had to admit there were compensations. A firm hand fell on his shoulder and a deep voice brought a

smile to his face as an older man leaned alongside him, “big day for you,” Sir Richard said.

“Just another day in the life it seems.” Edward answered his father.

Richard barked out a rough laugh that always signalled his odd somewhat ironic views of his life, as though it was all some big joke that only he got, “that’s what I’ve been telling myself for forty years boy, but here we are anyway,” Richard looked at his son and the smile he wore was enough to lift Edward’s heart, it was filled with the pride and love he had always

hoped to earn. Richard saw the look on his son’s face and the smile dimmed slightly, his hand slid across to Edward’s far shoulder and squeezed his son in a one armed hug.

“Clem tells me you’ve turned into quite the warrior my boy,” Edward leaned into his father’s side, feeling the reassuring weight of the man who had always been his protector, “your mother and I are so proud of what you’ve achieved,” Richard made sure his son met his eyes, “we’re proud of you son, never forget that.” As if the show of emotion was too much for the old

knight he straightened up and let out a rough laugh, “come on, your mother has arranged a family dinner for us all, and you know what she’s like if she doesn’t get her way.”

Edward chuckled at the thought of being scolded by his mother as he had when he was a small boy, “lead the way my lord.”

**********************************

Dinner was a healing experience for Edward. Everyone sat at table and there was no discussion of the kingdom or their fears for it. Sir Clement played japes and joked all night slicing through any social stresses or tensions with ease in a way that only the Count of Arlay could. The spread was so large and the keep so well served that even William was dragged into a seat by his knight and ordered to enjoy himself, something that was helped immensely by the attentions of one of Edward’s younger sisters, and her attentions managed to leave the boy a blushing mess much to the amusement of Sir Edward himself.

Midway through the meal, the Duke took notice of the boy seated beside his grandson and included him in the conversation, “so lad, they tell me you’re William, my grandson’s squire, tell us how you came into his service?” The old man’s voice was warm and welcoming but his eyes were sharp as he looked on the flushing face of the young squire.

“Y-your Grace,” William stammered, unused to the attention he was now receiving. Edward was a well born knight and everyone knew it, but in the field he had always been a junior captain, noted for his friendship with Duke Felix but of little account beyond that. His knight placed a steadying hand on William’s shoulder. The squire looked to his master gratefully before taking a deep breath, “the truth of it your Grace, is I brought him some water and he felt that was deserving of reward.” As he got the words out he stared at his hands.

Duke Eric laughed out loud now, a deep rumbling sound of purest mirth, “that must have been some good water,” he chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye.

“It was during the attack on our fort, if memory serves I was hurt and we had repulsed an attack, then I see this boy running across to us, no armour to speak of nor any weapon in hand, simply to give me a drink, it was one of the bravest acts I’d seen all day, especially with a company of crossbowmen staring us down,” Edward answered in turn, receiving an approving smile from his father in turn.

Sir Richard looked at William with new eyes, “bravery deserves reward, as does the simple act of helping those you serve with, well done young man.” William all but glowed at the praise, “if it’s alright with Edward I would like to offer reward as well, come see me when you are free of any duties.”

“Oh my lord, I couldn’t, Sir Edward has already done so much for me, he trains me and he outfitted me, I couldn’t possibly accept anything more when I have done so little.” William begged, his pride thoroughly deflated by his own humility at the prospect of this family of warrior nobility doing even more for him.

“That’s something we do need to discuss,” Duke Eric now spoke up, “Edward, do you think you can tone down your spending habits?” There was a rueful grin on his grandfather’s face as Edward flinched, “it’s not a problem yet and you’ve made good investments, but you’ve spent the value of several counties on this project, might be time to let it rest for a while.”

“Oh your grace, I swear I’ll pay it back!” William jumped to his feet in defence of his lord. Duke Eric merely raised a hand and waved him to his seat.

“That’s very admirable young William, but unnecessary, the truth is the cost of your harness is the least of my Grandson’s expenses, he’s maintaining quite a company at our expense as he’s only technically employed for fifty lances, isn’t that right Edward?” Eric received a nod from his grandson, “and how many are you maintaining within Schwarzberg?” He followed up.

“Two hundred lances.” Edward answered with a deep red crawling along his neck and cheeks, “I’d hope Duke Felix would have increased my indenture by now.” Eric nodded.

“Understandable, not that it matters currently, as I hear it the war down south is stagnating, the Grand Dukes are starting to bicker as the Emperor’s health deteriorates,” that was news to Edward and his head snapped around, “I’d hope you might summon your company and come serve the Crown directly, but that’s a conversation for later,” at a stern glance from his daughter Eric wrapped up his thought, “after all I swore no talk of business at dinner,” he smiled at the Lady and moved on to less important topics.

**********************************

The next day saw Edward standing in a solar on a small platform as a small army of tailors pinned and measured him for new clothes, all in his favoured black but with the embroidered red dragons of the Black Knight marked out. His harness had already been taken by the castle armourers and they were in the process of blackening it all with oil, while his new helm was enamelled in a glossy black with the red dragons picked out on the sides of his visor. His identity would be kept a secret for the entirety of the first day of the tournament and so he would wear no identifying marks. New banners, clothes and the rework of his harness were all part of it. Even a new sword had been commissioned, hilted in ivory with a dragon’s head carved into the pommel.

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Duke Eric sat off to the side observing his grandson, he had to admit the boy had grown into both his royal and de Marche heritage. From his mother he had inherited the blonde hair and blue eyes of the royal lineage, and if rumour was to be believed he had inherited even more than expected, and as far as Eric was concerned rumour was correct, he had already been informed what lay sleeping in a covered wagon bed in his courtyard, many had already heard the subtle growls of the slumbering beast. From his father Edward had grown into a giant of a man, he was six feet and four inches tall already and broad across his shoulders, he had a strong jaw and a broken nose that only served to humanise his features, something that Eric was sure would serve him well with the trials of courtly love that awaited him, without the slightly crooked facial appendage the boy had looked somewhat fae and a little too close to elvish.

“So when are we going to discuss the young lady, I know it’s on your mind.” Eric said.

Edward looked across at his grandfather with a sigh, “Am I that obvious?” He asked, receiving only a nod of confirmation, “I am not upset, just surprised, I knew it would happen one day, I just assumed I would have more time, I also never expected to be much of a bargaining chip, I’m the third son after all.”

“Well Richard is already married and Eric is taking orders with the Order of Roland, you’ve missed a lot in your time away, beyond that the Steward has a daughter and no son, so Marie is not a viable option, that leaves us with you, and now you’ve made yourself a truly valuable gem for anyone’s coronet, a powerful war hero from the south with lands in his own name as well as a scion of my house, regardless of our link to the throne being as dubious as it is.” Eric explained.

Edward nodded, “So what’s the plan?”

“It’s a simple one, when we arrive at Seageld my brother will welcome us with a private audience where we will discuss his plans for the Throne’s future and your role in it, from there you will be our Black Knight and win the heart of the Steward’s daughter whom will serve as the Maiden of the Tower.” Eric watched his grandson’s face intently as he said the next part, “we also need you to win, every event you enter, including the Black Knight’s Tower, must end with you as victor.”

Edward gulped audibly at the prospect, he was good, he knew he was good, but to be the overall champion of a Grand Tourney hosted by the King himself was a herculean task.

“Once you’re done here, see the armourers, I want to make sure the whole harness fits exactly,” Duke Eric said.

That broke Edward out of his reverie as he looked at his Grandfather with suspicion, “weren’t they just blackening it?”

“I thought about it, and I had something better prepared.” Eric told him with a sly grin.

**********************************

It was a week later that the entire procession of the Duke’s household rolled into Seageld. A hundred belted knights in their finest modern harness, belts of gold at their waist and a cavalcade of wagons carrying the entirety of the baggage. It was an awesome display of wealth and power in a way very few of the great lords of Arturia could manage. At their head road the Duke himself and the de Marche family. Sir Edward sat easily on Bohemund’s glossy back, clad head to toe in blackened plate and maille. Dragons were engraved into the breastplate one in red enamel and one in silver, both appeared to be roaring at the other in the symbol of the constantly warring dragons of Arturian mythos. It was yet another political statement and Edward knew it would enrage the McCulloughs when they saw it. William was likewise removed of all identifying marks and wore entirely black with a stifling executioner’s hood to cover his face.

A mile out from the city the entire caravan had paused to brush their doublets and shine their harness as much as possible, and Bohemund was clad in his new barding and caparison, red dragons leaping across his sides. Edward’s own Mesnie had been clad in Bordeaux colours and mixed in with the Duke’s men, so in as much anonymity as they could manage they escorted Edward through the streets of Seageld, the ancestral capital of Arturia and seat of every great king since the time of Roland.

Once they reached the palace, the king’s Steward took control and began arranging billets as an army of servants fell on them like an ambush of friendship. The Duke, Edward and Sir Richard were immediately escorted into the King’s private solar for an audience, leaving the ordering of their column to his Lady Mother.

“His grace, Eric Fitzroy, Duke of Bordeaux,” The herald announced as they entered the room, “The King’s Champion, Sir Richard de Marche, and the Black Knight.” Each man bowed deeply to their king before kneeling before his small throne, it was not the throne of state that he used in his great receiving hall, merely the one reserved for such private audiences. When the herald left Edward was able to see his uncle for the first time. The King while a relation, had never met his great-nephew before, and for the first time each sized the other up.

What Edward saw was a man in his mid-fifties, pale and drawn with a slump to his shoulders and dark bags under his eyes that spoke of incredible exhaustion. The man smiled at his Black Knight however and the simple act wiped years off his face and Edward caught a glimpse of the man he had been.

“There is no need for subterfuge here young Edward, you may remove your helm and breathe.” The raspy voice of the king left no doubt as to his condition, “what you see before you is the result of a man who has never learned to control the energy within us, unfortunately the royal line bred true within me, but I lack the ability to connect with a familiar, a cruel joke I find,” the kindly old man’s voice dripped with irony as he looked at his family members. He extended his hands and gestured for them to rise.

“I’m glad you have come my brother.” Eric stepped forward and embraced his younger brother in the most gentle embrace Edward had ever seen.

“I always will your majesty.” Eric said.

“You can use my name when we are alone brother,” The King snapped pettishly, earning a smile from Eric, “have you informed him of what is going to happen?”

Eric shook his head and gestured to Edward, “I felt it would be best to come from you,” and the King nodded.

“Very well,” he locked eyes with Edward, “you know Edward that I am without an heir, and as much as we wish it weren’t so, I don’t have long left, I have already lived far longer than expected, if someone with Talent can not form a connection with a Familiar eventually the energies will turn on them and begin breaking down the body’s defences, as it stands the slightest ague or sniffle could see me dead,” he shook his head in irritation at his own weakness, “already the vultures are sniffing, the Laird McCullough is the most ardent of my detractors and has already publicly called for me to name him heir, we have even confirmed the Duke of the Southern Marches has begun making plans to issue a similar request,” the distaste was evident in the king’s features as he looked around at them, “Your older brother Richard, has recently had a son, I intend to name the child as heir,” the words were met with silence, shock written in every line of Edward’s face, his family was to be elevated to the Throne, no longer a cadet branch but the Royal House itself. Edward once more bowed to his King.

“We are unworthy of such station, but I swear to work as hard as possible to prove our blood is worthy in the end,” Edward swore, “but why tell me this?” He asked.

“Your brother will be in grave danger after this proclamation is made, and his whole family, I wish to entrust them to you, the heir will be made your ward, the safety and future of this kingdom will be entirely in your hands.”

“I am just a knight your majesty, surely someone else is more deserving.”

“No, you are not just a knight,” the king answered sharply, “you will serve as our Black Knight, and show the entire kingdom that we have an invincible knight acting as the Shield of our Heir, more so, you will be named as Marshal of Arturia, my mailed fist.” The king met the Duke’s eyes, “there is of course more, you will be made a Count, with lands in northern Bordeaux and along the border of my Principality, the writ will be completed before the conclusion of the tournament and you will be made heir to Bordeaux.”

Edward stood up instantly in shock, “But that Duchy belongs to Clem!” He shouted.

“Sit down boy.” Eric’s irritation was quick and hot as he push Edward down, “Clem knows and has accepted, he is happy with Arlay and is well rewarded regardless, do not think we have not thought all this through.” Edward bowed his head shamefacedly.

“Forgive me your grace, and your majesty.”

“Be easy Edward, Eric we knew it would be a shock, it’s not like we’re in public just now.” The King shook his head, “things are tense Edward, forgive us our snappishness, there is much fear and frustration, I expect a declaration of war by the end of the week, when I make the proclamation, I will need my Marshal ready to lead us against the McCulloughs.”

Edward could only nod at the suggestion, “I will summon my men, and be prepared for the day.”

“Good man, tomorrow you will meet your future bride and begin your first feat of arms for the Tournament, we expect great things.” The King said ominously.