Elewýs was alone. She stood with her back resting against one of the fabric hung pillars looking over the heads of the other guests. An empty circle as wide as she was tall imprisoned her, an invisible line that no one dared cross no matter how curious they might be.

It was lonely being tall. Everyone looked up at you. It was impossible to have a prolonged conversation as each side either had their throat crushed or stretched as they tried to look at the other person. It was even worse when no one dared to talk to you. Her glum mood must have shown. There was only one person in the room who stood a chance of understanding her isolation. People kept their distance from him too.

“You alright, lass?” said Cempa.

Elewýs nodded.

“This is the party of a lifetime, at least for folks like us. You should enjoy yourself more. Drink and dance a little.”

Elewýs laughed, “Can you imagine that? A single step of mine would likely knock my partner to the floor or leave them clutching their stomach, gasping for breath.”

“Bunch of pansies,” said Cempa. “Here, give this a try.” Cempa passed her his drinking horn. It was large enough not to look silly in her hands. She sniffed it.

“Don’t be so cautious, it’s only a bit of mead,” said Cempa. Elewýs took a sip. It was unbelievably delicious. Viscous and sweet, with a delicate, clean taste. It reminded her of roses. She’d never had anything like it.

“Apparently it’s the speciality of one of the lords here, lord Rhodomel I think. His family’s been making it for years. They thought so much of it they named themselves after the drink,” said Cempa.

“I can see why,” said Elewýs, her cheeks flushing. She handed back the drinking horn.

“Take care though,” Cempa grinned, “It’s incredibly strong.”

Elewýs nodded again.

“Feeling better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Am I the first person to talk to you all evening?”

“The King spoke to me before the ball began and gave me these studs.” She touched her ears, “He said no lady should be without jewellery. I had to kneel and he stuck them through my ears before I could say otherwise. I jumped and almost knocked him over, but he only laughed.

“He gave me these clothes too. I’ve never had someone try and dress me before. The woman was so nervous though, kept calling me ‘milady’, only she wasn’t strong enough to lift the clothes and her hands shook too much to do the ties, so I did most of it myself. Fits perfectly, even though I was never measured for anything.”

Cempa chuckled, “You look regal and fearsome. Guess the old man likes you. He seems harmless, but he’s a sly bastard, so take care, or you’ll be jumping to his tune in no time.”

“I don’t think compliments are your strong suit.”

“No, I suppose not. Before I forget, I meant to tell you I’ll be leaving tomorrow with the rest of the troop. I was supposed to be getting my old job back, but given the face Duke Mánfeld pulled when he saw me, I don’t think that will happen any time soon. We’re going to Sir Wulfslæd’s old family home. He’s hired us all to keep his home safe, but I expect we’ll spend most of our time clearing land, fixing buildings, and digging potatoes. We’ll only be fighting if the King calls Sir Wulfslæd up, which is unlikely, or if we have some opportunistic visitors.”

“What should I do?”

“You can do what you like, but Sir Wulfslæd’s hired your parents too, so if you don’t want to stay here and be doted on by a crazy old man, you can come with us.”

“What about my mother?”

“I can’t answer that, but from what I hear the place is big enough that if you don’t want to see her, you won’t.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Elewýs sighed, “Is it really fine for me to come with you? What would I even do?”

“From what I’ve seen, you can do almost anything.” Cempa smiled, “Perhaps you can be the resident master of the hunt.”

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“What’s that?”

“You’d manage the wild game herds, provide meat when asked for, scout out for exciting targets when a hunt is called, and stop poachers. It’s a very important position and means lots of time spent outside.”

“I’d like that.”

“You can even sleep in the trees if you like.”

Elewýs scowled, “I prefer a proper bed.”

Cempa laughed, “Sorry, I thought you were the nature type. It’s a position for life, usually because the poor bastard gets gutted by a boar, but I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“Can you really make all these promises?”

Cempa puffed himself up, “Of course. I get to be the Bailiff when we’re not bashing people on the head.”

“How big is the estate?”

“Three thousand two-hundred acres, or five square miles. Almost half of it is woodland, the rest consists of pasture and a little arable land. The house, outbuildings, and gardens cover about ten acres, or so I’ve been told.”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot.”

“It’s five times more than your average knight, but only a tenth of your average minor noble, like a Baronet. I don’t know why his title is hereditary, but it’s not completely unheard of and probably why his family has such a large estate for their status.

“Technically, Earl Bourdekin, the person who we tried to visit in Éabrycg is his direct superior and the land would normally belong to him to give out to whomever he wished, but because his title is hereditary, it’s owned directly by the King, rather than through someone else. I imagine there is some family story behind it all, but even Sir Wulfslæd doesn’t know what it is.”

“Life is simpler when you live in a forest.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Cempa smiled, “So, how about a dance.”

“I’d rather have another helping of mead.”

“Of course, my lady. I’ll get it for you right away.”

Elewýs giggled at Cempa’s bow; she was starting to cheer up. Elewýs touched her ears, they were a bit sore.

Silver and clothes for a single word in public is a fair bargain. I almost look pretty in them too.

Cempa returned with a one gallon, clay pitcher in one hand and a brimming horn in the other. Cempa passed her the pitcher.

“I like being waited on,” said Elewýs. “Does the master of the hunt get their own servants?”

“Depends on what the lord of the Manor can afford and how much they like you.”

“I thought that was up to you.”

“I doubt I will be making many of those decisions. You know how Sir Wulfslæd is. He likes to be involved in everything. I’d wrangle you a cottage, but I doubt you’d fit.”

Elewýs took several gulps of mead, “I never fit anywhere anyway.”

“Wow, it’s all doom and gloom with you today. You’re not a crying sort of drunk are you?”

She made an almighty sniff. The circle around her jumped back. Cempa patted her arm.

“I’ve never been drunk,” said Elewýs. “My dad couldn’t afford to take me drinking when I was younger and the Galdorcwide don’t brew anything strong. Fustrendel said it was to ward off temptation because drunk Drýmenn are volatile.”

“And you actually believed that? I bet they had a secret stash somewhere.”

“There’s only so much whortleberry wine you can drink. You feel sick before you get drunk.”

“You didn’t try hard enough,” said Cempa. “Proper drinking takes preparation, perseverance, and a touch of desperation.”

“Or mead,” Elewýs said, taking another sip. Elewýs held out her pitcher and Cempa clashed his sloshing vessel against it.

“Or mead,” said Cempa. “Don’t overdo it though or you’ll end up like that.” He pointed outside. Elewýs’s father was swimming naked in the fountain, “You’re supposed to be a lady now.”

“Please, no more. I’m mortified already.” Elewýs looked away from her father and Cempa’s amused, drunken grin. A flash of yellow caught her attention. Elewýs saw a short man holding a lump of Feorhhord Gimcynn. His whole hand pulsed with squirming black veins. For a moment her vision filled with lines of colour, one of which fed from the chest of a tall sickly man to the stone in the short man’s hand.

“Cempa,” she could hear the panic in her voice. Cempa tensed, “Can you see the two people over there.” Elewýs pointed her pitcher at the suspicious pair.

“Those two are trouble, don’t look too closely.”

“The thin man is holding a lump of Feorhhord Gimcynn.” It was hard to keep her voice down, “Where did he get it?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, I doubt he took it from the Wúduwésten,” said Cempa. “That pair won’t know anything. One of them is a coward and the other is a perverse lunatic. Don’t go anywhere near them.”

Elewýs nodded.

“Come on, let’s take a walk,” said Cempa.

Her dour mood returned with a vengeance. Cempa presented his arm.

A sweet, ridiculous gesture. He’s trying to distract me and I am going to let him. I can’t reach that low though.

Elewýs placed her free hand on Cempa’s shoulder and let him lead her outside.