Arthan left the widow’s bed quietly, unsure whether to wake her up or not. It would be impolite to sneak away while she slept, but he didn’t want to interrupt her peaceful sleep. He pulled his pants on and passed the white shirt over his head, quickly buttoning it up. He was about to give Geraldine a gentle kiss on the cheek when a young boy burst into the bedroom. He reflexively pulled the blanket over her, hiding her small but perky breasts. 

The boy suddenly froze when he saw the large man in his mother’s bedroom. A governess came running after him, as fast as her dress allowed her to. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw him and she quickly tried to drag the boy out of the room while apologizing profusely. 

“What are you doing in mama's room?” The boy asked in a tone that was meant to be commanding but instead came off shaky. The small boy was trying to stand up for his mother, Arthan realised with amusement, hiding his smile.

“What is your name, boy?” 

“I’m Leslian!” He said proudly. 

The noise woke Geraldine up. She wrapped the blanket around her figure and got up from the bed. 

“I’m sorry, Arthan.” She said, giving him an uncertain look as she helped her governess lead the boy out of the room. 

He smiled to her and stepped in close, catching her wide hips as she passed him and kissing her softly on the lips. Despite her height, he still had to bow his head down to reach her lips. “No worries.” 

She smiled happily, enjoying their intimacy and glueing her body to his.

“I have to leave on that witch-hunt. Parceval is probably waiting for me already.” The instructions had specified that they were to depart in the early morning, he remembered. He was late then. 

“Will I see you again?” She inquired hopefully, though her expression told him that she would accept his decision either way. 

“Yes.” He assured her, caressing the smooth skin of her cheeks. “I will let you know as soon as I am back.” 

She offered him a broad smile and another kiss, deeper and more intimate. 

That smile was still warming his heart even as he left the household. He strode back to the castle quickly, where he had quarters because of his status as a Silvered Knight. Normal knights in the service of the king received only a small room, but he had several, though it was still a far cry from the luxurious residences of even the smaller lords. 

He found Canil there, who had already made him a bath, though it was getting quite cold. His squire had been informed of the mission by Tristan’s in the early morning. The knight of the Blue Swan was not without thoughtfulness, and he thanked him mentally. He washed and took a new set of clothes on, after which he put on a tunic of chainmail and parts of plate armour. The rest, the squire had already packed and placed on packhorses. 

“Parceval is waiting for you in the courtyard.” The boy said nervously, probably afraid to be caught in a dispute between the two knights.

“I know,” Arthan said calmly. On the way out, he handed a message to a servant meant for Stella, to explain where he was going so she wouldn’t worry. He didn’t like leaving without saying his goodbyes to her, but there was no time. They were already too late as it was.

Arthan found Parceval in the courtyard, waiting at the gate. The man was slimmer than most knights, and his armour was light. He had no helmet on, his dishevelled brown hair giving him a bit of a wild and unruly look. In combat, he relied more on speed and technique than heavy armour, wielding a longsword that was lighter than the norm. He was accompanied by a squire and a page, who each held the reins of packhorses, following them obediently."

“You’re late,” Parceval commented drily. He looked annoyed. 

“My apologies. I was only informed of the task yesterday evening.” 

“So was I, but then again you were out partying,” Parceval said sourly. “Did you at least get laid?” 

Arthan snorted at the beyond inappropriate question. But Arthan was the one in the wrong here, so he granted him a response this one time. “I did.” 

Parceval broke out into a grin. “Ha! I guess it was worth it then. You are hereby forgiven.” 

Arthan couldn’t help but smile. Parceval had that effect on people, his unrelenting joy was contagious. “We should go.” 

The royal castle was situated on an elongated island that separated the large river of Lameine in two. Originally, Parth had been a small town protected by the waters and the high walls. These defences had made the isle easily defensible, and it had never been taken by force. The city had eventually expanded to both the northern and southern banks, and now only the wealthiest could afford to live on the isle, where it was the safest. 

They rode through the isle from the palace, the streets of stone offering ample space. Everything was of stone here, a sign of prestige and a way to limit fires in the summer. 

The five of them crossed the largest bridge to the south. Here, everything was built of wood, and the streets were muddy and dirty. Here lived the artisans and craftsmen, the merchants and all the city-dwellers. Still, people here were rich compared to the slums on the outside of the walls. The soldiers standing guard at the gate nodded respectfully as they passed. 

Outside of the large and high walls, the less fortunate lived, having built their houses up against the walls and out. The tallest of the house didn’t even reach halfway up though. Then there were endless fields of wheat. The soil around Parth was fertile and the climate temperate, giving good conditions for the cultivation of crops, which were sorely needed to feed the immense population of the still-growing city.

They soon turned away from the main road and took the smaller paths between the fields. Occasionally, they had to cross some of them. Parceval was the one who supposedly knew the way, though it seemed to be his squire who was leading the way. The lad was the responsible one in their group, or so it seemed. 

“My name is Calder, sir.” The squire responded when Arthan asked. 

“You seem to be quite capable with a map.”

He shrugged modestly. “I do my best.”

Arthan glanced at Parceval, who was laughing with the two boys after having told them a story. “I’m guessing it wasn’t Parceval who taught you that.”

The squire smiled. “Sir Parceval has many other skills, but not that particular one.”

Arthan left the boy alone after that, realising he wasn’t too keen on talking about his past, the way he had been avoiding the subject.

But Canil and Parceval’s page, a boy a couple of years younger named Kensel, were getting along. They rode at the back of the group, each with a packing horse in tow, while no doubt bonding over their similar conditions. 

Most of the day passed quietly, and there seemed to be no end to the fields of crops, except the occasional piece of woodland. Sometimes they came across a bristling river running its way through the landscape. 

“The night will soon be upon us,” Arthan commented, gazing at the horizon where the sun had disappeared behind large and dark clouds, promising a turbulent night. “We need to find a roof to stay under.” 

“I hear you,” Parceval said, turning to his squire. “Calder, where was that hamlet you saw on the map?”

The squire squinted his eyes. “An hour away, I think. I’m not sure if we’ll reach it in time.”

“We’ll have to try,” Parceval said with a shrug, giving Calder’s horse a clap on the behind to get it going. The squire almost fell off his horse as it bolted forward. The others followed suit.  

The clouds moved even faster than they had anticipated. Soon, the rain started pouring down in droves. 

Suddenly Calder called out to them, trying to get their attention. Arthan blinked furiously, trying to see through the water blurring his eyesight. The squire was pointing at the barely distinguishable shadow of a farmstead not too far. 

“We’ll find cover there!” He shouted to get his voice through the pummeling rain. 

Arthan nodded and drove his horse to a full gallop. He saw the others follow in the corners of his vision. They reached the house and the two knights immediately dismounted their horses and Arthan knocked heavily on the door. He repeated it a few times. 

“We’ll take the horses to the barn!” Calder screamed while pointing at a large structure on the other side of the farmstead. Arthan nodded, smashing his fist against the door again, harder. They were all completely drenched. 

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

He was considering simply barging in when the door suddenly opened inwards. A middle-aged man appeared ten paces away, a crossbow in hand. The one who had opened the door had to be hiding behind it, meaning that they were at least two. Arthan immediately focused his attention on the crossbow. If the man offered the slightest hint of shooting, he would duck and throw himself out of the way. It took time to load a crossbow, Arthan simply had to avoid the first bolt. 

“Who are you?” The man shouted. 

“We are silvered knights of Parth!” Arthan yelled back, keeping his calm despite the armed crossbow pointed at him. The man took notice of his simple but expensive-looking armour, as well as the sword hanging at his hip. Only nobles could wield swords, as they were the weapons of the highborn. A commoner found with a sword would at the very least receive a thorough whipping.

“What do you want?” The peasant asked, lowering his crossbow. 

“Shelter from the storm and a night’s sleep.”

The peasant stretched his neck to spot Parceval, who flashed him a smile despite him too being cold and completely drenched. “How many are you?”

“We are five. Our men can sleep in the barn with the horses.” Arthan assured him. Canil had just come back from the barn with a sack of food, which he handed to his knight. 

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, at first light.” Arthan told the page who nodded and returned to the barn. He was increasingly impressed with his page’s foresight. 

The peasant eyed the food and nodded. “Come in. I’m Gillick.” He said, lowering his crossbow. 

The two drenched knights walked in heavily, immediately dominating the room by their presence. Gillick was by no means a weak or short man, but his stature was nothing even compared to Parceval, the smaller of the two of them. 

The door closed behind them, and a young woman revealed herself. She was pretty, with freckles and curly blond hair. Her eyes were big and awed, while her mouth hanged slightly open. 

“That’s my daughter, Jania,” Gillick said.

“I am Arthan Karendis and this is…” 

“My name is Parceval.” His companion interrupted, turning to face the girl. “What a lovely house you have! Would you like something to eat?” He said, showing the food-sack to them. “It’s on us.” 

Arthan gave him a sour look which he either didn’t notice or simply ignored. 

“It’s getting late…” Gillick began but Parceval persisted. 

“Nonsense, I insist.” He said, taking a seat on a stool at a rudimentary table. Arthan was hungry and took a stool too, and soon enough the two peasants joined them. Jania sat next to Parceval, who offered her a piece of bread and salted meat. The two slowly began warming up to each other, while Arthan examined Gillick. The man didn’t seem much upset by the evident intention of his fellow knight. 

“Are you alone here?” 

Gillick froze, giving him a considering look. It was never good to reveal vulnerability, but in the end, he nodded affirmatively. “We’re alone. My wife and son were murdered while I was in the city with my young daughter. A local band of brigands.” He spat, his mood darkening considerably. 

Arthan stopped eating. “My condolences.”

“You knights should do something about this sort of stuff. That’s why we pay taxes, isn’t it?”

The problem had probably never even reached the capital. It was too small. “I’ll see what I can do. We’re here to take care of the witch.”

The farmer nodded approvingly. “Yes, she too has been a plague to our land. Dark times, we live in.” From his perspective, perhaps. For Arthan, times had never been better. He had never before been neither as rich or as famous as he was at the moment. 

“Could you tell us where to find her?” Arthan asked, hoping to avoid a trip to the hamlet and instead go directly after their target. Gillick nervously shifted his weight on his stool. 

“Yes, I went to her a few years back, when we all still thought her to be an old and retired healer. But my old and sick mum got worse and died shortly after we had visited her.” He explained quickly, probably afraid to be considered associated with her. 

“So where can we find her?” 

The farmer described the way. They were to head southeast until they hit a small river and they should follow it through the forest, the witch’s hut would lie near its banks in a clearing. 

Arthan was thanking him just as Parceval and Jania stood up, catching his attention. The knight picked up an old broom placed against the wall and handed it to her, as he began teaching her sword stances. She was giggling and he was playful. He got close to her in his teachings, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. 

“I will separate them if it bothers you.” Arthan proposed. If he saw anyone flirting with his sister like Parceval was with Jania, then he would probably rip the man’s head off, mildly put. 

Gillick sniggered. “Heh. You offer is appreciated, but this family could use the goodwill of a noble.”

“If you say so.” Both of them knew that Parceval was likely to simply ride out the next morning without a single thought for the girl, but Gillick probably hoped for the miracle that the two actually fell in love or even that Parceval took her with him as a mistress. 

Soon enough, Parceval and Jania disappeared into another room. Arthan was grateful that they managed to keep it somehow quiet. Gillick showed him another room and he fell asleep almost as soon as he hit the crude bed. 

The next morning was nothing unusual. They ate breakfast and prepared to leave the farmstead. Parceval slipped a ring off his finger and gifted it to Jania, who was blown away by the gift. Gillick seemed happy too, the ring was probably worth years of income for them.

Later, as they continued on their trip, Arthan couldn’t help but bring it up. 

“A risky move, to give the ring to her.” Parceval arched a brow. “She could have blown up in your face, thinking you saw her like a whore.” Arthan pointed out. 

“Arthan, she’s a peasant… She has no grasp of such subtilities.” He then grinned.” But if she had been offended, I would simply have told her that I was lending it to her and that the ring symbolised my promise to come back for her.” 

“And would you?”

“Well, yes, it’s on the way back.” He said with a toothy grin.

Arthan chuckled despite himself. “You must be the biggest heartbreaker in Parth.”

“Well, not to be modest, but there’s at least on who has me outclassed.” Parceval gave Arthan a meaningful look. 

Arthan nodded slowly, realising who he was talking about. “Hellias, the bewitching heart-eater. But isn’t he just an urban rumour?”

Parceval shrugged. “Every rumour originates somewhere, and this one is not even a decade old. I have met ladies who told me of friends that had been seduced by him.”

“Well, in any case, you shouldn’t be proud to be compared with such a sorcerer.” He shook his head pensively. “If you ever tried to court my sister, I’d probably cut you to pieces.”

Parceval laughed. “Only if you caught me.”

He glared at him, trying to discern whether he was serious or not. After a moment of feigning, Parceval exploded with laughter. 

“I’m joking of course. You’re quite the protective one, aren’t you? Are you not afraid of leaving her alone for almost five days?”

“Stella is not as careless as she seems. She knows how to take care of herself, mostly.”

“Right. I hope you’ve made your peace with the fact that you’ll have to hand her over to another man eventually.” 

He shrugged. “I want the best for her. If a worthy man appears, I’ll hold back. Until then, I can’t let the first passing bastard with a bit of charm run away with her.”

“Right… What about yourself? Was the woman at the party someone you would see again?” Parceval asked curiously. 

“We’ve only just met, but I like her.” He saw his companion’s enquiring stare and revealed her name.

“Geraldine? The widow?” Parceval laughed, apparently finding his situation funny.

“You know her?” 

“Intimately, I’m afraid. She has been quite active since her husband’s death, which left her a fortune. She has no need for a new man and enjoys life to the fullest. A female version of me, I suppose.” He said pensively. 

Arthan annoyingly tried to undo the image that had formed in his mind. But more importantly, had Geraldine slept with Parceval, since he knew her this well? And who knew who else! “I wasn’t aware.” He muttered. 

“You’re so busy protecting your dear sister’s chastity, you let yourself be charmed by the first gal you came across.” Parceval pointed out with a chuckle. “You should be a bit more careful, or your heart is going to be ripped out and torn to pieces one of these days. It won’t be pretty.” 

Arthan snorted. “I can take care of myself.” 

They soon found the small river Gillick had described and followed it into the woods. Parceval had begun speaking to his page, going on an elaborate explanation to Kenneck’s simple question about women. The guy was shameless, Arthan thought. Still, he took good care of his page and Arthan felt the need to do the same. He sensed Canil getting increasingly stiff as they approached the witch’s hut. 

“You have something on your mind?” He asked, slowing his horse down so that they rode side by side. 

Canil hesitated, licking his lips nervously. “It’s just… About that witch, how do we make sure that she doesn’t curse us? How can we defend ourselves against sorcery?” 

“No sorcery is a match for a sword. It is a tool to manipulate minds and corrupt souls, not to fight battles, my page.” Arthan reassured him. 

Canil nodded slowly. “Alright.”

“This evening, after we have defeated the witch, I will see to your training,” Arthan promised him. The page’s mood lit up, and he nodded more vigorously. 

“Yes, sir!”

They rode along the banks of the river through the forest, which wasn’t as thick as he had feared. There was more than enough space for the horses to get through. 

They found the hut in a clearing, not even thirty paces from the bristling river. He saw a bucket of water next to the river, filled to the brim. The hut was small but well-built, made of firm oak. Parceval drew his sword and slid down his horse, followed by Arthan. 

“Stay here.” He commanded the squire and pages.

They marched up to the hut with long and determined strides. Parceval cautiously pushed the door open, his sword ready the tip pointing forward. 

Just as he stepped in, an old woman sprung out of hiding and tried to cut his throat with a dagger. He caught her wrist in his hand, the dagger glancing off his gauntlet. With a twist, the old crane had to let go of it. He pointed his sword at her throat. 

“Are you the witch Krasnia?” He asked nonchalantly. 

The woman spat but missed. “And who are you, to come barging into my home with weapons in hand?”

“We are silvered knights, commanded by Prince Hadrian himself to remove your head from your shoulders, witch.”

“Witch-hunting, are we? I am surprised, I had hoped these things would stop with our new king.”

“He has been king for two decades. The hunts never ceased.” Arthan said, finding the comment strange. How long had she been hauled up here?

Parceval gave her a questioning look. “Are you senile? Why would the king stop the hunting of witches and sorcerers? They are a plague to our society.”

She broke out into a hoarse cackle, her wrinkly and thin skin twisting into a mad grin. “You think you are succeeding in killing us off? You are led by one of us!” 

Parceval snorted. “Hadrian is a sorcerer as much as I am a widowed woman.”

“Not Hadrian, you fool. I am speaking of Arkansas, the grandest sorcerer that ever lived, the bane of…” She began gurgling and drowning in blood as Parceval’s drove his sword through her throat.

“That was nothing short of blasphemy…” Arthan commented. 

“And stupid beyond words,” Parceval added, wiping his blade off. “Let’s return, our task here is done.”

“No, we’ll need to burn this hut and her corpse with it,” Arthan said, causing his comrade to sigh in resignation. 

.