6.4

Jewel settled with all the poise and grace she could muster for it, holding in the delight and wonder that coursed up through her fore- and hindclaws as they touched friendly new stones for the first time.

The pavers of Kaeketeh were eager and full of bouncing joy. They metaphorically tumbled in delight at her presence in eagerness.

They reminded her of when the hunting hounds had puppies!

So many feet, hooves and talons had trodden them year after year: burly marchers and Gryphons, heavy lords and delicate ladies. And as she followed behind Zephyrvam and Father’s stately stride, she settled at attention and it was an effort of utmost will to not freeze in place before her appointed position at what one in particular whispered cheerfully up to her.

She had just stepped where an elf had tread!

As soon as the proper announcements and requisite feasting and ceremony was over Jewel was going to walk up and down this courtyard and listen to all they had to tell of this long since passed elf and their delicate yet powerful steps.

Where they had gone and what they had done!

But first she had to make the appearance expected of her station and her Father’s

And there was certainly a lot more to it than she was expecting.

Every footman stood at attention beside them, armor shined and cleaned from the dust of the road. Swords in scabbard but easily seen, shields at their backs and spears held at their sides.

Bromthil was on the line with his men to bring each side to an even thirteen.

Kraok was standing at attention, in armor shined and still smelling faintly of the liquors that had brought it to suppleness and strength.

Yet untested in battle.

He had a newly made riding bow at his back, not as immense as Father’s but it would be long years (if ever) that a knight not born and raised to the way of a Gryphon Rider could even draw such a thing, let alone shoot it with any skill.

In his hands he held the iron-banded coffer which Jewel knew held Father’s tithe in silver and gold to the Countess. An Annum of obligation for all his lands held by a single man. He was admirably steady under the burden.

And then there was Jewel, bringing up the line to stand at Father’s right and slightly back, coiling herself loosely, like a spring or some kind of shining river.

Not so settled as to seem lazy but also not so straight as to seem unready to leap to action.

Father and Mother’s instruction had helped her master it for an event such as this.

Poised to strike but at ease was the impression her posture ‘at attention’ was drilled for.

Something to imply her power but to not dismiss or disrespect her liege lady and countess.

And before them arriving now from the wide doors of the keep was the Countess Bathory and her own attendants.

Three at the head of the entourage, including the Countess.

Twenty to each side of Footmen dressed in armor clearly bearing the crest of Bathory and the County of Viznove.

Of Bathory she was dressed in finery that dazzled with metal and leather just enough to show she had the means to employ skilled armorsmiths but not in a manner that would serve in any way on the battlefield or a hunt.

There was far too much cloth exposed for proper armor and too much material around the legs. The skirts lacked either the give in fabric or the necessary cuts needed to allow one to ride a horse or Gryphon.

It was an outfit suitable only to impress and display — like many of Mother’s gowns in fact.

Her face had lines at the corner of her eyes, along her brow and around her mouth. All deeper than either Mother or Father bore, although only just.

She looked wearier, too. More than Jewel remembered her from her visit to Fort Rochford.

Still standing with the imminence and posture befitting a lady, but also tired in spite of it.

At her left was a man in black robes with finely-done crimson embroidery along the sleeves and collar. His hair and beard were straight and almost pitch black. The hair hanging to just below his chin in a shape almost like a helm around the pale egg of his skull. His beard was just as straight and sharp looking, sprouting from just his chin to a point over his collar bone. The shine of the setting sun made both look crimson.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

At her right was a knight dressed in similar armor as Father, helm closed off heraldry of Viznove and a Gryphon Rider Arrow pointed down.

They strode forward and as pre-arranged Jewel, Father, Kraok, Bromthil and all the footmen dipped down with heads low in observance of their fealty to the Countess.

However before anything further could be said and the ceremony opened the last of their party arrived.

With a sound like mud sloughing from sodden shore into burbling brook, Tsulogothulan appeared in all their boneless glory. Stepping free from the silty water that had swollen up between the pavement stones.

Leaving them pristine as the waters seeped upward to flow into the Weird’s robes.

Jewel found it interesting how the man at Bathory’s side paled even further and boggled at the very sight of Tsulogothulan.

The countess paused a moment to give the Weird a chance to lower themselves to her, but all the Weird did was dip their head in a nod of acknowledgement. The act of an equal rather than a subordinate. It made Jewel want to flinch and hiss a warning at the Wizard but to even hint at it would be even more inappropriate.

After a long and awkward moment dragged between the two the Countess turned her gaze to Father and pointedly ignored the Bog Wizard’s disrespect.

“My Vassal, Jonathan the Third of your name, Baron of Rochford, Head of your House, Wyrmkeeper, 1st Among my Gryphon Lords and 3rd Captain of my Armies, be welcome to my house, to eat at my table and rest at ease in my protection.”

Her voice was rich and strong, used to command but there was a strain in it and an ache that reminded Jewel of when Mother had been crying or how Muriel had sounded during the terrible night of the Terror Boar’s slaying.

As one Father, Jewel and all their party stood back from their supplication (except Tsulogothulan of course who had not even bent more than their neck).

Father spoke as he did to his men when rallying them or at festivals, voice strong and sure.

“As called so the forces in arms of Rochford have rallied. All but half my guard are gathered here before you. I can also promise a levy of two hundred and fifty able bodied men armed in spear or bow to be mustered for summer march this coming year if called.”

He turned to Kraok and gestured forward. The new knight was heavy as he stepped with the weight of the coffer and its bounty in silver but sure footed and straight backed besides the burden.

“Furthermore I give One Hundred and Forty-Nine Knight’s Marks in silver. As agreed for the past five years in obligations for my absences as first among both your GryphonLords and to the Realm’s service.”

Two of the Countess’ Footmen came forward from her entourage and took the chest to no doubt be secured and counted. With the obligations secured Father continued.

“I also give an official introduction of my newly raised Knight, Sir Kraok Boarslayer. Elevated in standing for valor above others.”

The Lady Bathory considered Kraok with a considering eye before nodding to father.

His hand is going to the Bog Weird.

“As well as The Esteemed Sorcerer and Weird of the Uloghai Bog Tsulogothulan, pledged to my service for the next Seventeen years.”

The strange man in black with red trimmed robes paled even further at the declaration of Tsulogothulan’s titles and name. Which was rather amusing, he was the first person she had seen who appeared to have any idea where their wizard hailed from.

“Until I release the obligation or seek their replacement by another Wizard in good standing with Lord Sorcerer and Weird of the Demesne of Ghergeintat, Fizzbunches.”

It was even more interesting how he boggled even harder at Father at the naming of the stupid smug cat wizard.

That definitely suggested something.

Again Jewel had never met anyone who recognized Fizzbunches’ name either.

Bathory offered an imperious glance to the man trying to keep his composure next to her, raising a single brow at him to which he only nodded and then turned to Tsulogothulan with her own acknowledging bow.

“I see, it is an honor to meet one of the esteemed and storied Weirds of Magic. During the feast tonight the tale of how the Lord Rochford came to earn your services simply must be shared.”

And then she turned back to father.

This was it. She knew it was time.

“And last of all I introduce you once more to my Daughter, Jewel of Rochford”

Father took a step to the left and back as he gestured to her and Jewel on cue strode forward as gracefully as she had ever been. Putting every single nuance and emphasis she had been taught into every inch of her coils, every subtle motion of her steps.

Jewel dipped her head in a low bow just barely over putting her snout to the pavement stones of the courtyard.

Pausing the appropriate moment of supplication to her Liege and Countess before raising her head just a bit lower than the Countess’ own, so that she remained peering up at the countess.

“As my fathers daughter, I am here to answer and assure my pledge as my father has, as your vassal to aide in peace and serve in war.”

There was a raised brow as she spoke but not the shock of seeing a beast do the impossible. No, it was more just a shock at her eloquence. The kind of thing that Mother or Muriel might do when she finished a book far ahead of Alexander.

Well that was fair she supposed, Jewel had been far smaller and far less sure of her speech when the Countess had last seen her.

And the surprise soon faded to a delighted smile that soon broke into a wide grin with shining white teeth.

“Oho! Do you oh daughter of Rochford?! Well I definitely accept such a dutiful daughter’s pledge!”

And with that she clapped her hands sharply.

“Then that is the obligations and pageantry done! You’ve traveled long and we will be quite busy tomorrow! Come join me for a meal! The Feast is waiting!”