Chapter 1
Month of Blaze, The 16th day, Highday, near noon…
The Sun stood high in the sky, gazing down upon the world, knowing all which transpired under zir gaze, which beat down with the summer heat fiercely upon the region of Silvitas and Stalar, the great twin cities. The farmers worked in the fields, grateful for the light to strengthen their crops. Gnats buzzed as humidity climbed, for the rains had been fierce the week before and the crops needed sun.
At the center of a broad plain, surrounded by hills on one side and with a valley at the other, ran a large and well maintained road. A town sat on the road, with a stream cutting through the southern end. A second road, slightly smaller and less grand, also ran through the town perpendicular to the first. This town existed to guard the intersection of these pathways, supporting itself by taxing anyone who moved goods through its territory.
A mighty company of soldiers approached the town, nearly a hundred and fifty strong if one included those not expected to do battle. Soldiers moved about in standard legion armor, chainmail for most, while Rod Holders and Spear Leaders had breastplates. Knights rode amongst the soldiers, three in total, all in plate armor. Riding beside the soldiers were ten more knights in plate armor and an eleventh knight in robes. Many of the knights were accompanied by young men and women, some in armor, some not, of various ages from seven to seventeen. These were their squires, and almost every knight had one.
A woman knight directed from the front as they came to a halt, beginning the establishment of a standard legion camp. Short pink hair, the color of cherry blossoms, framed a heart-shaped face of pale skin. Her glowing pink eyes surveyed the scene. She nodded with approval. She wore a full set of half-plate armor, with two short-bladed swords strapped to the left side of her saddle. Her red skirt covered her unarmored legs and lent a sense of fashionable flair to the armor. The device of a star of silver was worked into the front of her armor, while her shoulder pauldrons held the sigil of eight stars around a crescent moon on her left. A massive honey badger occupied her right.
Franklin sat her horse uncomfortably because the saddle was ill-fitted, the spine was too tall in the wrong places. “Damn them thieves…” she muttered to herself with a trace of Stalar’s Southarbor accent, scanning the area about her. She gave directions via hand gesture as men in armor, packs and weapons upon their backs, began to pull up to the camp a half-mile from the small town. Two knights remained with the legion camp, following her directions, while the other eleven remained separate. The wagons began to pull up last of all, her junior officers beginning to give directions. She heard the thump of a spear and a huff of satisfaction as her senior Spear Leader, her Eighth Spear, stepped up behind her. Franklin elected to give him a moment as she directed her gaze towards the small town and considered her situation.
Great pillars of purple light, like trees or tentacles reaching into the sky to grasp at the stars, had been reported near this area. Her company was now almost a week and a half out from their legion’s main encampment. The entire Eighth Cohort and four squads of knights had been dispatched to search the area. Franklin’s century, second in seniority, had been dispatched with the Second Knight Company to the area around the town of Daffolid, one of the places to report the sightings. Her husband, the legion’s Praetor, had at least arranged a small gift to her when he dispatched her. The Second Knight company was under the command of her best friend.
Marta had been her fellow squire alongside Franklin and Franklin’s wife, Anna, when they had all started at age seven. Marta’s sponsor, the knight she had squired for, had married Franklin’s, while Anna’s sponsor and their mutual husband had been best friends. The three of them were now here, officers all, finally reunited on a single mission. It was good to see Marta. The catfolk warrior was a straight arrow, unlike Franklin, but they had always gotten along. They’d exchanged letters weekly for years now. Marta was married to her own recently knighted former squire, and the pair of cats were expecting. They’d asked Franklin to be the godfather. She couldn’t say no, but seriously? Her as a godfather?
The thunder of hooves sounded behind her, and she turned in the saddle. The approaching rider rode fast, and Franklin made out a dark skinned half-elf in plate armor. Anna must have good news to ride so fast. She’d been sent ahead to announce their general intentions and presence to the local lord, a Mayor. Towns had Mayors, forts and large agricultural or resource territories had Viscounts, the bigger territories and cities had Counts, the biggest had Archons. Governors oversaw a fourth of the united realm of Silvitas-Stalar, appointed by the Crown who ruled above all.
Anna’s roan mare matched the color of her hair and eyes and skin, all of them a shiny black luster, with the hair of both horse and rider having touches of red mixed in. Her hair was tied up in a bun that left her short pointed ears exposed, proudly proclaiming her mixed ancestry. Franklin felt a smile steal its way across her face as her wife galloped up to her, reigning in and coming to a slow and steady halt alongside her. “And?” Franklin asked with a leering grin.
Anna’s armor was colored bright yellow with a green cloak and green trim. She had the same silver star on her chest, however Anna’s armor reversed the placement of honey badger with the crescent and stars. A green shield was strapped to her saddle. Anna smiled as she removed her helmet. She took a moment to catch her breath before she spoke. “We are fortunate, love. The Mayor of this town seems a generous soul. He has offered the officers a meal at his house, and baths and wine as well. The Inn has been instructed to allow our soldiers to drink, but not to stay. We can send a few teams to get water from the well or the stream, whichever proves convenient.”
Franklin nodded. “Marta will be pleased. Report to her while I see to the men along with the Eighth Spear. Oh, and Anna, ask her to lend us a mounted knight for scouting,” she ordered, still wearing the same leering smile. Anna saluted, leaned over to kiss, and rode off. Franklin dismounted, turning to her Eighth Spear.
The man was the eighth most senior non-commissioned officer in the whole Legion, supposedly assigned to her as a sign of faith and favor in her abilities. Franklin thought it might just be to help protect her and Anna. Regardless, she was glad to have him. He stood several inches taller than her if still not six feet, in worn but well cared for standard-issue legion breastplate, grieves, and colors of green and red. He had a bald head with a circle of graying black hair ringing the top of his head, a neatly trimmed bushy beard a foot long, and held his spear with the ease of experience. He was covered liberally in old scars, but the bright light of his brown eyes had not faded in the seven years Franklin had known him.
“Right, Modulin, let’s get this all organized. I think we place the knights at the center and dig in the troops around them,” she proposed as she watched her soldiers, a full century, spread out preparing camp. “Keep my squad leaders with their own men though. Atticus has seniority, but I’m putting Maglin in charge tonight, I want to see what he can do.”
Maglin and Atticus were her junior knights, not even a year into their knighthoods. They were barely officers, but being knighted counted for a lot in the legion. Every knight was considered an officer, even the ones in the knight companies. Franklin had always found that confusing, since everyone in a knight company had to be a knight except the honor-seekers still trying to earn their knighthoods. A whole company of officers was asking for attitude and discipline problems. She’d seen it herself as a squire.
“Think they’ll cause all that much trouble if they get a spot on the edge?” Modulin asked with a chuckle as he stepped forward, stroking his long beard. He planted his spear in the ground butt first and prepared to holler orders. “And I’ll be certain to send Agritus to ya if’n she complains,” he added gruffly. “Which I’d wager she will.”
“Heh. My squad did when I was just a tiny honor-seeker,” Franklin replied swiftly, watching as Modulin made quick work of organizing the camp from Franklin’s general idea. Not all Knights were pricks or stick-in-the-muds who caused problems for camp security, but enough of them were just the sort. Franklin didn’t see the need to take chances with it. Especially since only Knight-Spear Agritus would be there as the ranking officer in camp for most of tonight. Marta would take her own wife to dinner, and of course Franklin would take Anna as well, which left only one ranking officer out of four to oversee the camp. Agritus was more mage than knight and Franklin’s confidence in her command experience was lacking, no matter her pedigree.
She flagged down a spear-leader passing by. “Fagin, take your spear squad scouting and secure our surroundings. I’ve asked the knight-company to lend you a mounted knight to help. Coordinate with them and get to work.”
“Yes, My Lord!” her spear-leader replied, saluting fist to heart. He turned and started gathering his squad, careful not to shout over the Eighth Spear. Franklin took a seat.
Soon enough, Franklin saw a knight approaching with her helmet off. She was pretty, with fair blond hair and an athletic build fitting of a well trained and rehearsed knight. Her armor was fine quality but very unornamented, save for a device of the legion above one breast. She probably hadn’t been a noble before her knighthood, or had been so minor she couldn’t afford to have her house sigil emblazoned on her armor. Franklin remembered those days well herself.
The woman stopped and saluted, hand held over her heart, arm bent at a perfect ninety degrees. “I am Ser Ava. Ser Franklin, I’m here with a message from Knight-Spear Agritus. She wishes to know your reasoning for placing the knights in the camp center. We demand our pride of place at the front, we are not for hiding behind bloody common infantry.” She actually smiled as she said it, as if the idea she was insulting Franklin or her men completely skipped her mind.
Franklin’s eyebrows flew as high as a kite at the tone, the message, everything. What the fuck? She asked herself in surprise. “Repeat that,” Franklin ordered her. She wanted to be certain she heard it correctly. Had that actually come out of this woman’s mouth? Hell, she hadn’t even addressed her superior officer correctly.
“The knight company belongs at the front. I’m here to demand an explanation as to this affront to our dignity,” she said with a straight face.
“Ser Ava, how long have you been with the Second Knight Company?” Franklin asked Ava, instead of providing an answer.
“A month! I was assigned to this company directly after being knighted,” she explained eagerly. “Ser Agritus picked me out at once. Now please answer my query, Ser Franklin.”
“Ser Agritus must be a very lazy mistress indeed,” Franklin muttered. “Her tastes must only run skin deep. I understand that, my considerations for a one nighter are the same, but imagine taking a woman with nothing between her ears into your bed for a whole month. Still, at least she doesn’t touch her squire, props for that.” Franklin could barely restrain a growl from accompanying her words. Her insult had been going a bit far, but this woman had seriously pissed her off. Ava rocked back as if slapped.
She disrespects my unit, myself, my wife, and can’t even address me properly. After all the shit I waded through just to make it here. “Do you even understand the importance of infantry, or do you just assume my legionnaires are slowing you down on this mission?” Franklin hissed at her, before Ava could retort.
Ser Ava’s face had gone red with rage herself. Her hands had balled into fists. “How dare you insult Ser Agritus! She chose me because I defeated her in a duel for the right! I was the top of my squire tourney for my knighthood!” Her hand went to her weapon, a rapier slung at her waist, but she didn’t quite grasp the hilt.
Franklin glared at the woman as she reclined, having remained seated this whole time. Modulin was still in earshot, doing the actual directing of the camp. No question, he heard every word. “Ser Ava, that really isn’t impressive. Take your pride down a notch or ten. Most of my soldiers can beat Ser Agritus in a duel, she’s a mage knight. Dueling is the last job of a mage knight, it’s nothing impressive to defeat one. Why aren’t you at the academy if you won your tourney, that should have earned you a scholarship?” she added as a question. Franklin had been forced to depend on Kaldur to attend since she hadn’t even managed to achieve knighthood. Marta had won her tourney by beating Franklin. She attended on scholarship.
“You… You…” The fool of a knight had finally grasped her rapier completely. Her hand was shaking.
Bloody hells, she has way too much pride. Franklin knew what was coming. She’d have to put the girl in her place. She might get one more chance to convince the woman to stand down. She had to take it or she’d be just as much the problem here. Compose yourself, idiot. You’re an officer not a rookie.
“Stand down, Ser Ava. If you draw that sword I will consider it an attack on me. You do know the punishment for assaulting a superior officer, don’t you?” The result could be dismissal, prison, even execution. She couldn’t be that stupid. It would defeat the point of everything she was doing. Her pride wasn’t worth death.
“A duel! I challenge you to a duel!” Ava growled out.
Nine Hells. Fuck. Of course she’d do that. It was barely a step better. Barely.
“Why should I accept?” Franklin asked. “A superior officer accepting a random duel from an angry junior knight? I’ve no honor to gain from it. In fact I stand to lose some from this,” Franklin explained gently. She needed something to shock Ava to her senses without making this worse. Well, Ava was extremely pretty, physically. “If I accept this duel, am I correct to believe your reward for victory is dictating where the knight company will be placed in camp?” What an idiotic thing to challenge a superior to a duel for.
“And an apology!” Ava demanded. “Apologize for insulting Ser Agritus and myself and put the knight company where we belong.”
“Fine. However, when I win, you will abjectly apologize in front of, and to, my entire century for insulting and disparaging the infantry. Afterwards, you will join my wife and I in our tent tonight, where you will do whatever we want until morning. Nothing will be off the table.” That had to be enough. Please, please, just back down. Surely this was enough. She couldn’t possibly stil-
“Agreed!” Ava said loudly. “If you’re worthless skills can beat me I’ll give myself to both of you all night long. I swear it on my honor as a knight.”
You have got to be kidding me, Franklin thought to herself. “Ser Ava, Agritus can’t get you pregnant. I can. I will not hesitate to take that risk after I win this duel. Are you seriously prepared for that?”
“You’re still trying to weasel out of this by making me run away? I am no coward!” Ava declared.
“Fine. On your own womb be it,” Franklin muttered. “MODULIN!” she raised her voice.
“Yes, Knight-Lieutenant,” her Eighth Spear replied instantly.
She was certain he’d been waiting for this, probably having guessed where this was going before even she did. “Let’s give this knight what she wants. You know the proscriptions to officiate an informal duel.”
“Informal?” Ava began to protest.
“I will not throw off the entire schedule of this camp by days over this dispute. This is exactly what an informal duel is for,” Franklin cut her off. “My word is good. Modulin, if I somehow screw this up and lose to the puppy, put the knights wherever she wants them within the bounds of the camp.”
“Then let’s start!” Ava snapped impatiently. Where was she getting this much arrogance? That armor did not belong to a member of high nobility. Was she that desperate to stand out? Why was she pushing things this far?
Franklin finally stood up, walking over to a nice empty spot about thirty foot by thirty. Not exact, but it would do. Her men would be putting tents up here in a few minutes. “Knights, please take your marks,” Modulin respectfully requested, standing to full attention, a broad smirk on his face. The legionnaires nearby were all watching, broad eager grins on their faces as they did. They were looking forward to the show.
Ava stood about twenty feet distant on the other side of the space, opposite Franklin. A legionnaire brought Franklin's sword belt to her, and she strapped it on. “Let’s begin.”
Modulin raised his spear high, and brought it down hard on the earth. Franklin bulled forward in a springing motion, one blade flying free of her sheath to knock aside Ava’s rapier. She smashed into Ava in the process and knocked the woman off balance. A pair of strikes with the flat of the blade followed up as she added her second blade into the mix.
Ava wasn’t given a chance to recover her surprise at Franklin’s brutality. The one strike she managed was off the mark. Franklin swept her feet out from under her after smashing her nose in with the flat of her second sword, then landed on top of the woman and placed a sword near her head. “Yield,” Franklin hissed. The fight lasted maybe a dozen or so seconds.
Ava’s eyes were red with tears as Franklin straddled her, pinning her to the ground. “Do you understand your place now?” Franklin’s voice was thick with her frustration. So annoying!
“I… I yield,” Ava admitted, crying.
“Why the hell did you-” before Franklin could ask Ava what she’d been thinking, everyone around them snapped to attention. There was only one reason they’d do that.
A glowing halo of light snapped reflexively into being around Franklin’s head as she looked over to the source. She saw silver cat ears above a wagon an instant before the rest of the cat stepped into view. The catfolk woman wore armor only slightly less ornate than Franklin’s, and without the honey-badger device. In its place were the three angry red marks of a bleeding claw wound, symbol of her clan.
Marta was covered head to toe in gorgeous silver fur. She was tall, nearly six feet, making her tower over Franklin, and her bust was twice the size of Franklin’s. She wore leather boots, custom fitted for her cat-like legs and paws, but her calves were unarmored to give her greater range of movement. Her face was mostly human, but her nose and teeth were still those of a feline predator, while her ears were seated atop her head like any other cat’s would be. She growled in annoyance for a moment, rolled her eyes, and then focused on Franklin.
“Don’t try that bloody innocent act with me, Franklin. Your glowing halo trick doesn’t fool me. Everyone says aasimar are supposed to be as holy as their ancestors, but they’ve clearly never met you,” she growled. “What on the die is going on?”
“The puppy started it,” Franklin pretended to whine. Marta narrowed her eyes and growled louder. “Fine, fine. The puppy really did start this, I have lots of witnesses. She came up to me and started going on about how I’d insulted the knights by putting your company in the camp center.”
“That’s just your prerogative as the infantry officer,” Marta commented dryly.
“Exactly,” Franklin replied, pointing from Marta to Ava. “Not sure she gets that. She couldn’t even remember to address her superior correctly, kept calling me Ser Franklin. She kept getting angrier and angrier, couldn’t hold her temper. She insulted my men’s whole profession, I asked her a few questions, she damned near drew her weapon on me. I won’t claim to be totally innocent, I was seeing a bit of red here, but she came at me, then had the idiocy to challenge me to a duel about it. Modulin.” She handed the explanation over to Modulin while she stood up and got off Ava’s chest.
“Yes, Knight-Lieutenant. The incident occurred as Knight-Lieutenant Starr says. Ser Ava issued a challenge. Knight-Lieutenant Starr had me serve as officiate for an informal duel to resolve the issue quickly.” Modulin was quick, precise, formal, and it made Franklin grin.
“Well, I can see who won. Finish up, then let’s chat,” Marta replied in dry humor. There was a little spark in her eyes.
“Sure, sure,” Franklin agreed. “Alright, Ser Ava. Let’s get this over with. Once you're done with the apologies, I expect you just before the night bell, at my tent. I don’t care what you wear.” After all this, no way in hell was Franklin going to let the puppy get off without following through on every word of their agreement. She’d work out the question of what was too far once she’d cooled off that evening, but Ava was damned pretty, and she was the one who agreed to the bet. It would probably fall to what Ava’s pride would push her to accept.
Franklin stood by and watched Ava make the appropriate apologies, at least to those present. She sent the woman off with one of her legionnaires as a guide to make the rest and turned to Marta. “Satisfied?”
“It will do. You are still a magnet for problems, I see,” Marta noted, flashing a quick grin at Franklin. “However, you did me a bit of a favor with this one.”
“Oh did I? Well, maybe you should join us tonight, like old times,” Franklin jokingly suggested. She quickly held her hands up before Marta could reply. “I know, I know, you’ve pledged to be loyal to your spouses.”
“I do not regret that, but it has been… difficult, lately. Since learning she was pregnant, Mercia has been very hesitant. I see Anna and you still have a very open marriage. How are things with Praetor Gargant?” Marta’s query was asked with sincere concern. “I did not think he was still interested in you, after he stopped coming to see you at the Academy.” Marta had been on deployment during the wedding, unable to attend, and this joint mission was the first chance to spend time together in several years. Franklin had always refused to explain her marriage circumstances via letter. It felt too private to entrust to paper, too important.
“He was. He wrote letters to both of us almost weekly, and still came to see Fayna at least monthly if he was in the capitals.” Fayna was the eldest child of Anna and Kaldur both, conceived when Franklin and Anna had still been squires. “Once both of us were knights, he began courting us. Count Oomori had already conditionally agreed, so that Fayna would be legitimized. He dotes on his granddaughter.” Franklin’s father-in-law had only agreed to let Fayna become her mother’s squire because it let Anna actually raise their daughter. Franklin might not actually be Fayna’s father, but she’d certainly done the work of a father with the girl.
“That part you mentioned in a letter. It must have been tough, spending those four years without him,” Marta said, placing a hand on Franklin’s shoulder.
Franklin didn’t reply at first. Instead, she turned and started walking, beckoning Marta to follow. There was still work to get done before they could change into dress uniforms to meet with the Mayor. Tough, huh? That’s one way to put it. “Being married to a Praetor is not easy. He was already a Tribune when we were wed, we’ve all felt the pressure of it since we accepted his proposal. Cassandra was a big help with everything, I couldn’t ask for a better co-wife.”
“You say that because you aren’t married to her yourself,” Marta groused. “I’ve been bound to her since I was seven. She still has my father wrapped around her finger without even sleeping with him. I love her dearly but she tries every ounce of patience I have. If I compare how Anna describes you against Cassandra, you are far easier to handle.” Marta had served as Cassandra’s squire, then consented to marry her sire upon being knighted as the Squire Tourney’s champion.
Franklin smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she teased Marta. She and Anna had been in love since they were twelve. Married after Franklin was knighted at twenty, they now had three children together. Of course, Franklin also had three children with other women, though only one of those happened after their marriage. “The real trouble isn’t Kaldur. Kaldur promised me, when we were wed, that he wouldn’t expect me to live up to anyone’s expectations but our own: mine, Anna’s, and his. You know his expectations already.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“I remember,” Marta acknowledged. “What are yours? Is it part of this trouble-magnet aura you have?”
“Protect Anna, protect my children, meet Kaldur’s expectations. I don’t need to advance all that far or fast, unlike Anna. I can do everything Kaldur needs of me as a Knight-lieutenant in the infantry, as long as Anna makes Knight-Commander. She’s on track. Knight-Commander Bangalore is very impressed with her, he’s already put her in for a promotion. I haven’t told her yet because it’s still awaiting approval.” It would be easier if Kaldur could just promote his own wives, but that was one of the few acts of nepotism explicitly illegal. Thus, despite serving in their husband’s legion, their promotions depended on the favor of others.
“That’s fantastic! I’ll save the surprise, I promise,” Marta said, giving Franklin a side hug in celebration.
“I appreciate it. As for my trouble-magnet… I’m not sure. I wonder if it might be some kind of curse for not living up to my blood, sometimes. I didn’t ask for an angel to be my great-grandmother, but all the stories say they like to meddle.” At least, she was fairly certain it was her great-grandmother. Problem was, the angel blood was on her mother’s side, and tracking down a prostitute’s lineage was not an easy feat.
They were silent for several steps as Marta considered that answer. Eventually, “The Mayor’s invitation is generous. I suspect he wants something. Probably from Anna or you.”
“The Yearga clan don’t have any connections here?” Franklin asked.
“No,” Marta replied, shaking her head and beginning to clean her other paw-hand as they walked. “Not this deep into Stalar. All our connections lead to Silvitas and run out just past the limits of Stalar City proper. I know precious little about House Daffolid, they’re extremely minor, but they’ve some connection to House Venales, according to Agritus.”
“An Aquitaine would know,” Franklin muttered. “Why does it have to be fucking Venales, everywhere I go? Maybe I’m in luck and he wants us to help him kill a Venales. It must be something to do with Oomori or Kaldur if he didn’t invite Agritus. Her Father is a Praetor and her uncle is a gods-blessed Govenor!”
“I’ll help with the killing, if that’s it,” Marta offered eagerly. “I haven’t forgotten any of what that family has done to you.”
Franklin blushed. “Thank you,” she said with as much gratitude as she could put into two words. “We’ll find out. Either way, I’m glad we can at least have a really good meal way out here, before everything turns to the search. The scouts should have reports by the time we get back.”
“Then let’s get to work. You have a camp to organize and I need to speak to my adjutant about her undisciplined lover,” Marta said with a smile. The pair clasped hands briefing, hugged despite the armor, and went to work.
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“If you’d please love, would you explain what happened with that knight earlier?” Anna asked as the pair of them rode side by side into the town. Marta and Mercia rode a few lengths ahead, sharing a horse. Not that they didn’t have two horses, but the cats enjoyed sharing one. All four women wore formal dress uniforms, which did not include armor. They were on deployment, so they couldn’t simply wear dresses, however much all four of them would have preferred that. Their armor was in their saddlebags, however, just in case, while their weapons were on their belts or backs or strapped to the saddle in the case of Marta’s lance and spear.
“She was arrogant and rude,” Franklin began, quickly explaining the sequence of events. “When she called for a duel, I tried to scare her off by making her body my prize, but she didn’t balk, so we have a feisty young woman who has promised to obey our every command attending us tonight.”
Anna actually smiled. It was a licentious grin, one Franklin rarely got to enjoy in public. “That should be entertaining.”
“And people say I’m the harlot,” Franklin whispered teasingly.
“Well you are, darling,” Anna replied. “I’m not the one with three bastard children,” she pointed out. She leaned over and took Franklin’s hand. “I just enjoy a good diversion with the fairer sex, same as you. Especially with you.” She kissed the back of Franklin’s hand tenderly, causing both of them to blush.
Franklin left her hand in Anna’s as they rode, smiling. “I will enjoy seeing Agritus’s face when this is over.”
“I don’t think it will be that satisfying. I had a chance to speak with her, and she’s even less serious about the Legion than you are. I also didn’t get the sense she was especially attached to anyone. Her lover didn’t come up at all until the poor woman came back red faced at the end, to make an apology to me in person for insulting our century. Agritus just told her to get back to work, didn’t even seem to care what had occurred.” Anna’s expression was pensive as she explained.
“Is she using her legion service to avoid family duties, do you think?” Franklin asked, musing on the question. Agritus wouldn’t be the first noble of a high house to do that, hiding in the legion for their four years of regular service or ten years as a knight. It was safer and more politically useful than becoming a Quester, but far less free. Agritus had far more responsibilities to potentially avoid, too. The Aquitaines were currently probably the strongest house in the kingdom after royals. Even a fourth or fifth daughter would have a lot to do.
“Probably,” Anna guessed.
Franklin had to bite her reins to stop herself from grinding her own teeth. It was one of the few things she truly despised about the nobility. She didn’t like most of them, but she only truly despised the Venales and nobles who used her profession to hide from responsibility. Meanwhile, serving in the Legion was literally her only available life.
In order to bear fruit for her husband’s ambitions, to protect her wife and children, and especially herself, she would be serving in the legion even once her mandatory service term ended in three years, when she turned thirty. She had too many enemies, people who bore petty grudges while having vastly too much power. Even if she could endure disappointing and losing Kaldur, even if she could keep Anna, even if House Oomori agreed to hire her as a knight-at-arms and she kept serving as their deputy-heir, she wouldn't be safe. Only the laws protecting active-duty legion officers offered her real defense. Without that, House Venales would devour her, first for what she’d done to her old roommate, and then for the consequences of their prior attempt at revenge.
“Fucking hell, why can’ these bloody lazy shits running our nation at least put in the work for the privileges they have?” she groused with glowing red veins, a sign of her celestial heritage flaring to life. Glowing eyes, glowing halo, glowing red veins, these were not even the last of them. At least it wasn’t a full moon.
Anna squeezed her hand tightly. “It’s all well, love. Perhaps she is, perhaps she isn’t, but she’s in no position to hurt you. Breath, love, breath. Breath and let it go, don’t let them get in your head again.”
Franklin did as instructed, knowing Anna was right. She drew in a breath, releasing it slowly, and repeated that several times. “Thank you,” she told her wife, taking her own turn to kiss the back of Anna’s hand.
“Always,” Anna replied. They fell quiet afterwards, riding quietly into town with hands still held. The glow faded from Franklin's veins. Soon enough, they were at the town.
The walls of the town were half wood and half stone. A stone base ten feet high, with wood built atop the base to double the height. The gate itself was entirely of stone, save for the thick wooden doors. A pair of town guards bearing daffodil flowers on their tabards guarded the gate, wearing chain shirts. They were most likely not active legionnaires but men directly in the mayor’s employ.
They passed through the gate without even slowing down, for it was thrown wide to welcome them and the men attending it saluted. One of them wore a grey beard, and Franklin judged him to have been an old campaigner by the way he saluted. His posture reminded her of Modulin. All four women returned the salute as they rode past, which earned a wry grin from the greybeard, and a shocked look from the younger man standing beside him. The four women kept riding toward the manor at the other end of town, passing through the town’s central square in the process.
Clop, clop, cl- clap, The sudden interruption of the sound of horseshoes on stone caused Franklin to pull sharply on her reins, coming to a halt. Marta and Mercia’s horse was stopped directly in front of her, blocking her path. Both cats’ ears were up and their eyes were riveted to the sight. Franklin herself couldn’t help but follow their gaze, and even share their surprise, for there was a large humanoid lizard in a cage in the center of the town square, barely a dozen yards away.
Everything about him was huge. Even the two iruxi living nearby, farmers, were not this big. This monster could have easily stood eight feet in height. He bulged with muscles, with no shirt to cover him up. His black scales were nearly coal black all over. Bright ivory white spikes and horns covered his head, while a ridge of red tipped white spines ran from the top of his head down his spine. His head-fins were large too, that same coal black, with little white bone tips poking out. His hands ended in red tipped claws. Only an armored skirt preserved his modesty as he sat huddled in the cage. His large eyes took in everything around him, purple-golden orbs seeming to clearly perceive all his surroundings. This creature...
“Why is there an iruxi in a cage in the central square?” Anna asked loudly. “Who is it and what is it doing here?” she looked around, seeking someone to answer. Her gaze locked on another pair of town guards standing near the cage, looking spooked. She rode her horse toward the cage, and Franklin followed. They stopped perhaps a dozen feet away, just shy of the nervous guards. “Explain.” These guards were dressed much as the first pair, brown tabards with the mark of a daffodil, chain shirts, spears, brown pants. The pair were probably around their twenties.
“He was caught horse-thieving ma’am; he assaulted a guardsman ta boot! The Lord Mayor ordered him made an example of, ma’am!” one of them belted out all too loudly. He looked scared, not of Anna, but of his own prisoner. He kept glancing nervously at the creature.
“That’s Ser Knight, Guardsman,” Anna barked a reply as she glared suspiciously at him. “He wasn’t here when I rode in a few hours ago. Why did no one inform us of this immediately? We’re bloody well here to investigate suspicious activity, and you’ve got someone suspicious on public display!” She practically shouted the last two words, radiating fury . She really was a masterful Knight-Spear. Franklin was going to miss being assigned together when Anna was promoted.
“Control yourself, Ser Oomori!” Marta cut in, now able to play the part of the “reasonable knight” to Anna’s angry knight. “Guard, who do you report to?”
“Ah, the Sergeant-at-arms is Sergeant Barker, Ser Knight,” the guardsman replied, an air of nervous energy now filling his voice as he faced down Anna. Franklin set a hand to her wife’s shoulder, listening to the conversation as she observed the caged iruxi.
Her eyes widened when he stared back, gaze so intense Franklin felt herself beginning to shiver. She tore her eyes away, breathing hard. She couldn’t explain it, but just his angry gaze made her afraid. “I didn’t steal anything,” the prisoner cut in, speaking in only a slightly accented Trade tongue.
Everyone fell silent, Marta broke off whatever thought she’d been having as the rest of the party looked to the iruxi. “You claim innocence?” Marta asked cautiously, her gaze briefly falling on the shivering Franklin. Her eyes widened at that sight, and looked anew at the lizard with increased worry. The iruxi nodded in reply.
“I’m to be amazed he fits in the cage,” Mercia said with evident shock. “How did that be managed? How was he put in it?”
“They threatened my friend,” the Iruxi replied. “Supposed to cooperate with pol- that is, the city watch, aren’t we? Of course, that’s when a fellow expects due process, and I’ve seen none. I stole nothing, but apparently, being, ah, Iruxi? Is enough to convict,” He groused. His way of speaking was unusual, something Franklin could be certain of now that he’d spoken more than a handful of words. Not the Republic accent Franklin had learned at the Silvitas Academy. It was far removed from her Southarbor accent as well. She couldn’t place it.
“Silence you!” the more silent guard at last spoke up, rocking the cage with his spear. The Iruxi locked him with the same gaze Franklin had endured, almost casually, as if the guard were barely worth his time. His fins twitched, and the guard fell to his knees, puking.
“Tch,” the creature retorted. “No spine at all. You’re just the sort the kids would want thrown off the force, out on your ass,” he muttered. “I didn’t steal a thing. I found that horse, running free over the countryside. I helped it out, calmed it down, rode it back to town, quite kindly, and for thanks they want to lock me up for thieving. Didn’t even ask for it back first, just jumped to conclusions. Would have taken my friend if I hadn’t cooperated.”
“A horse?” Marta asked, confused.
“Came into town barely two hours passed, bold as brass, from the west, Ser Knight. Riding on a horse belonging to his lordship Sir Jasper, as had gone missing not three days prior.” Still standing, the less confrontational guard explained as his partner retched up his lunch or dinner. So a local knight was missing? Anna hadn’t mentioned it, did no one think to bring it up? Perhaps he was only declared missing after the horse came back?
“Well, I didn’t steal it,” the iruxi insisted.
“We found poor Sir Jasper’s blood on the saddle!” the same guard countered, sounding angry.
“So you said, but I didn’t put that blood there! The horse was running wild with terror when I found it! I thought it was the horse’s blood!” The iruxi tried to throw up his hands in clear frustration, but the cage didn’t leave him room.
“Sure it was!” the guardsman retorted, angrily holding his spear… though notably pointing it skyward and not towards his captive. Neither guard had pointed their weapon at the iruxi this whole time, even when they used them on the cage.
“This is, hmmm, a story of interest,” Marta said at last. “I will speak with his Lordship the Mayor on this matter, both what he knows and why no messenger was sent to inform us, or at least meet us at the gate. Oh, also with Sergeant-at-arms Barker, about hanging the prisoner in the town square,” she added, a disapproving glare descending from her feline eyes upon the pair of guards. She pointed at the retching guard. “Get that man a bucket and rinse him off, and wash off the cobbles. This is the square, not a farmer’s pasture,” she ordered, then flicked her reins to lead the four knights onward to the Mayor’s Manor.
Franklin found her gaze drifting back to the cage, where the iruxi sat patiently in his cage. He began howling out a song in a language she did not recognize, though it did not sound as though he was a good singer. Perhaps to an iruxi it sounded pleasant?
The Mayor’s Manor was two stories like several other buildings in town, mostly stores with the house above it for the owners to live in. Unlike these, it was easily three times the size, set on the opposite side of a small brook that had apparently been manipulated to run through town. This same brook was where, upstream, some of their legionnaires had gathered water for cooking, washing, and drinking tonight.
A stone bridge led over this small brook, flanked by rows of trees guarding the manor from wind without obstructing sunlight on the beautiful garden spread out before the manor’s front. A hedge rather than a fence surrounded the grounds, which measured perhaps an acre and a half of comfortable and well ordered space. It was beautiful even in the fall with summer long departed and chill on its way. The trees had begun to change colors, yellows and reds replacing greens in a startling appearance and display.
No guards stood at the front of the yard, but two flanked the entrance to the manor. A servant in livery, a butler, approached as they dismounted, followed by two little halflings who took the horses. Franklin stroked Strider’s head carefully before allowing him to be led away. Strider seen to, she looped her arm with Anna, and together they followed Marta and Mercia into the Manor behind the butler.
Before meeting the Mayor, the four of them were taken somewhere to wash hands and dust and sweat away. It wouldn’t do to eat while dirty, much less speak with the Mayor. Whatever he wanted, it was best for them to look their best. Franklin enjoyed the feeling of clean fresh water on her face and hands.
Afterwards they allowed the butler to guide them to their host. A first floor parlor was prepared for them to relax and meet the Mayor. It was a beautiful room, full of wooden furniture polished to shine. Oak and ash seemed to be the wood of choice. Yellow velvet cushions were set on couches and chairs. A low set table was placed between the couches, with coasters for drinks. A lavish cushioned chair was tucked into the back corner, next to an ornate lamp and a shelf of books. It seemed to have some pride of place in the room, standing apart from the other furnishings.
Behind the chair’s back hung a great maul, an ornate rune carved weapon gilded with gold, likely magical. Franklin had not seen such a weapon in some years, as they were rarely used except as symbols of the deity Peace. She wondered if it belonged to the Mayor or one of his predecessors. She would have assumed so outright, except the etched symbol on it was not a daffodil like all the other symbols around town, but instead a red elven glyph meaning “Beautiful Anger.”
She next took in their host, who stood as they entered. The Mayor was about five and a half feet in height. He wore a tailored outfit of brown with yellow ruffs and collar which nicely complimented his blond hair. He wore no beard but had a mustache and sideburns in the mutton chop style, and he smiled broadly. The smile even reached his blue eyes. He seemed happy to see them, a good sign.
Franklin quickly found her gaze drawn elsewhere, however. Flanking the mayor stood a single maid, who was remarkable for the long pointed ears that extended well past her bushel of long blond hair. A full blooded elf was so rare outside the capitol Franklin could count on one hand the times she had seen one. Half-elves like Anna were not uncommon, but a full elf was an unforgettable sight. The maid curtsied as they entered, smiling at all of them. She matched Franklin in height, making her rather short.
Franklin was used to the few full blooded elves she had met being tall. The woman’s green eyes peered out of her pretty and fair face, and Franklin found the smile charming. She pulled her attention away from the question of an elven maid and focused again on their host.
"Welcome to you, Ser Knights, I greet you as guests," the Mayor spoke, taking a step towards them and opening his arms wide. He was slightly portly but walked with a confident gait. "I have the honor to be the Mayor Daffolid, it is my hope you find my home to your liking!"
"We are grateful to be welcomed, Mayor Daffolid," Marta replied, stepping forward to exchange a handshake with the mayor, as was custom for the senior officer. Mercia, Franklin, and Anna each merely curtsied as one. "I have the honor to be Ser Marta Yearga, of the Second Knight company, Justiciar Legion, a Knight-Lieutenant in the Crown’s service.”
Franklin took a half step forward. “I have the honor to be Ser Franklin Starr, of the Eighth Cohort of the Justiciar Legion, a Knight-Lieutenant in the Crown’s service.” There was a knowing look in the Mayor’s eyes. He knew her by name, she was certain of it.
“I have the honor to be Ser Anna Oomori, of the Eighth Cohort of the Justiciar Legion, a Knight-Spear in the Crown’s Service,” Anna reintroduced herself. “I am pleased to be here once again, as a proper guest.”
“I am pleased to host you,” the Mayor replied.
“I am to be honored to be Ser Mercia Yearga, serving the Second Knight Company, Justiciar Legion, a Knight in his Majesty’s service,” Mercia spoke last, looking nervous. Her tail was twitching instead of curled around her waist as it should be. She still didn’t seem comfortable with all the high courtesies of knighthood.
Marta’s tail, in contrast, was properly curled about her waist as she resumed the lead. “Your home is lovely, Lord Mayor. Sadly, a matter precedes further pleasantries. My position requires me to seek answers. Your prisoner… why did you not send a warning or notice?"
The man stopped smiling. "Ah, well, I must apologize, I was caught off guard, but I had meant to. I myself did not immediately learn of the incident, as my Sergeant-at-Arms is in charge of my guards since my only Knight vanished. I admit I should have, but it simply slipped my mind. I do apologize." His apology seemed sincere, but Franklin wasn't the decision-maker in this situation.
"Very well. I would love nothing better than putting it behind us so we may all enjoy dinner together," Marta said. "First though, I wish to send a messenger to our camp to alert them about the matter. A squad will come to collect the prisoner for interrogation regarding possible Republic activities. I assure you that we will not keep him, unless you desire as such.” The Mayor normally had the authority as arbiter of any crime committed or accused in his domain. "We are here on a Crown mission, and we must have priority for him.”
The mayor’s eyebrows rose for a moment, then he nodded. “If you find it acceptable, I will send Merelidia. She is without question the most trusted and competent member of my entire household and a swift rider. If I send her, none of you must miss dinner to deliver messages. You can also remain certain there will be no further mistakes. Please, as a token of apology.” Merelidia stopped serving tea to bow, as if backing up her lord’s plea.
"Ser Starr, provide orders for one of your squads to retrieve the prisoner," Marta snapped out, accepting a tea cup offered by the maid.
"At once, Ser Yearga," Franklin replied by rote, reluctantly releasing Anna's arm to step towards the door. "I will require writing materials." Sooner done, sooner she could enjoy a meal.
"Certainly, Ser Knight," the maid said. Without missing a beat she walked towards the door and out. "This way please, we have a writing desk in the front hall for such purposes," she explained, leading Franklin.
Franklin considered the elven woman as she led the way. She was a pleasing sight to behold. "Might I ask you a question?"
"I must hold my master’s trust, so I will answer only what does not betray it," she replied overly sweetly, never slowing. If anything, there was a touch of stress in the reply.
Franklin mentally paused for a moment. Why on the die would she feel the need to clarify her loyalty in such a manner? It seemed oddly out of place. Usually, maids who didn’t want to answer would just say no or stay silent. They didn’t qualify the response. Well, maybe there was a measure of internal division within the house... "It is simple curiosity. How does an elf find herself serving as a maid in a minor human town’s manor?"
“I have had the honor to serve this house since the previous lord’s days as a Quester. I was his partner. When he returned home, I accepted his invitation to join him,” she replied. A Quester, huh? Not an uncommon thing for bored noblemen to do to avoid responsibilities or Legion service. Taking jobs as basically private mercenaries, Questers explored dangerous areas, hunted monsters or treasure, gathered rare materials, and various other odd jobs.
Miss Merelidia led them into the entrance hall. The writing desk was against the wall, but Franklin did not immediately notice it. Her gaze remained as she assessed the maid. She was… quite fetching. The uniform revealed little but hinted at much.
“Ser Knight? Ser Knight!” Merelidia called her title forcefully, and Franklin snapped out of her review. "The writing desk is here," Merelidia indicated, clearly wanting to redirect Franklin’s focus. "Or did you have some other purpose to pursue?" She asked, not precisely like she was accusing Franklin of anything. Rather she sounded amused.
"You are very beautiful, " Franklin admitted. "I am easily distracted by beautiful women. If I had not already arranged a night's diversion for myself and my wife, I'd be doing a great deal more than stare," she explained. "Now, let's get this letter written." She stepped up to the desk and quickly wrote out a message.
Merelidia gave a warm smile. "Were I not a properly devoted head maid, I might be glad to enjoy such a diversion. Alas that we both have other promises to keep," she pretended to lament.
Franklin was certain the last line, at least, was sarcastic. She sealed the letter with some wax and her seal ring, then handed it to Merelidia. “Deliver this to Sir Maglin. Thank you.”
The maid accepted it with a curtsy. “Would you prefer I depart at once, or guide you back to the parlor?” she asked.
“Best to head out. Another can guide me back,” Franklin replied.
Merelidia nodded, rang a small bell, and directed another young maid, this one just an ordinary human in her teens, to guide Franklin back to the parlor before she went off with the letter.
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Catherine Zerevia Merelidia slipped out the kitchen door as the smell of food filled the kitchen. In one hand she clutched a sealed letter to the legion camp, and in the other, she held a small basket. She directed her gaze to the nearby stable. She reached it in a single leap and opened the door.
"Hello Pepper!" She called cheerfully as she stepped up to the horse in question, a black mare with red splotches all across her flanks. "My Lord has given us a mission tonight, would you like to go for a ride?" She led the horse out of its stall as she greeted and played with Pepper Ann’s head. She liked being scratched around the ears. Pepper Ann whinied, placid under Catherine's touch as she was saddled and readied. A single spirit brushed the horse happily as she worked. A good omen.
More spirits, her ancestors’ remnants, flitted about at the periphery of her vision. It was a comforting sight. They were always trying to warn her about what they could sense. Interpreting their motions, however, did not always go smoothly.
From childhood to now, some fourteen decades, and still she would misunderstand some of their warnings and intentions. They couldn’t speak, they couldn’t make a sound. They could move, shift colors based on mood, and touch nothing but her. She could feel the prickling sensation of their “touch.” Without her, they could do nothing, and even with her their power was so limited. She was still glad of them.
A ride would be nice, a little time to herself. It was going to be a busy evening, she could tell, and a great deal still needed to go smoothly. Both her current lord and her darling Mara would need all the help they could get to ensure negotiations went smoothly.
Once she had Pepper saddled, she mounted up. Together horse and rider trotted out of the stable and turned towards the town square. It would not be a long ride, but was fastest by horse even so, and Catherine Merelidia wanted to get back to the manor quickly.
As she entered the square, three guards looked up to see who was riding at this hour. "Miss Merelidia! What brings you out? Is the Mayor not entertaining guests?" The most important looking asked, stepping forward. He was over six feet tall, wearing a breastplate instead of a chain shirt. He wore a crested helmet to denote his rank, and beneath it his dark eyes roved over her. He smiled, putting his well cared for teeth on display and scratched his brown goatee.
Ah. Sergeant Barker. What joy, she thought sarcastically. At the edges of her vision, her ancestors’ spirits flitted about, angrily avoiding the man and swarming about the caged iruxi with evident curiosity.
"He is. Had you done your job, I’d be there, not here. Instead, I have to run your errands. They were not pleased to discover your prisoner had not been reported to them. I also thought to bring him dinner, since I know you won’t have remembered to feed him," she explained coldly, sparing no smile for Sergeant-at-Arms Barker. The man was a snake. She deeply regretted that she had ever let herself be charmed by his roguish smile.
Worse still, Barker was not merely a snake, he was proving incompetent. She should be in the dining room when her Lord entertained guests, especially these guests. Yet her lord had decided that sending her was the best way to make their guests believe he meant them every courtesy, and so here she was.
"I told you," the prisoner said, joining the conversation. "Didn't I, Mackle?" The iruxi posed the question to the youngest man there. "Barker here doesn't seem very good at his job, perhaps he's going to lose it. Who gets the gig when he goes?" The rookie shied away from an answer, fearing Barker’s wrath.
Merelidia looked at the massive iruxi, studying him intently as the spirits swarmed him without touching him. "So you brought back Goodboy," she muttered. "Did you steal him?"
He locked gazes with her, matching her eyes with his own purple-golden orbs. "Was that the horse's name? Well no, he was running scared when I found him. Didn't have to hurt anyone, don't know why he was there- was his owner important to you? Someone you loved?" He asked, actual concern in his voice. She couldn’t even begin to guess why.
Catherine was silent for several moments, before shaking her head and breaking the locked gazes. "No… not as such." A lie and a truth. She had feared him, not loved him. In a way, that did still make him important. Memories she did not particularly want to recall threatened to bubble to the surface. She focused her attention instead on her ancestral spirits’ continued lack of hostility toward the stranger. It was usually a good sign.
"Then why do you, wait, did he hurt you?" The sudden question caused her to once more look directly at the lizard man, eyes widening and fingers going white as she gripped the reins far too tightly. How could he tell from just a look and a few muttered words? Ghostly images flitted across her gaze for a moment, assuring her all was well. Her hands remained gripped tight just the same. Her ancestors grew agitated, seeking out the source of her heightened emotions, unable to perceive the obvious with their limited intellects.
"Not me," the words came out as more a growl than language. Not for lack of trying, she added in her mind. Her ancestors surrounded her, seeking to shield her, still unable to understand what had agitated her.
"I see, well then. I still didn't touch him, but I feel a bit less sad he's missing now," the lizard… the man said, sitting back down and relaxing in his cage as best he could. It was a gesture so human Catherine couldn’t help but think of him as a human, despite his appearance.
"What is your name, iruxi?" she found herself asking.
"I… Well, firstly, I'm not an Iruxi. I'm a Wyrmblood, not just an iruxi," he corrected. Despite the insistence of the words, there was in them no bite Catherine could read. It was like he was speaking from rote, not emotion. A wyrmblood? What on the die was that? The guards all scoffed, looking at the iruxi like he was insane. This time he ignored them.
"My name… Coal. Coal Glittersgold," he added after a moment, something like a smile of good humor taking shape on his face.
“Something funny there, lizard?” Barker interjected, glaring at the-at Coal. Merelidia felt her face flush and an old feeling welling, an old friend she’d been forced to put away while serving as a maid for her love and then his son-in-law. Her white hands, still tight gripped on the reigns, shook now, quivering just slightly as without warning she felt herself all but boiled over with rage.
How dare that snake interject, she growled in her thoughts, but said nothing. There was no benefit to doing so and making a scene. This had been a strange enough conversation already. Still, she’d actually enjoyed the strange mystery of it all, and as a bonus she’d momentarily forgotten Barker existed.
“Woah, I’m sorry if I said something stupid,” Coal said, holding out an empty hand in a very human gesture of placation. “I just… it’s an old joke with myself, ok?”
“You are not the problem, Coal Glittersgold,” Merelida assured him. “I shall give you the use of my name. I am Catherine Zerevia Merelidia of the elven realm, Head Maid of the House of Daffolid. I must depart on errands, but I shall return. I hope you are innocent, as perhaps then nothing unfortunate will happen to you. As well, here is the food I mentioned,” She held out the basket, waiting for him to take it. “Enjoy a small meal. Bread, butter, a skin of water, and a little brisket.”
“I will treasure this. I hope whoever that man hurt never has to see him again,” Coal said, once more locking gazes with her. His golden eyes were warm, kind, genuine.
She found it was a gaze which, in the moment, she didn’t want to meet. Tight lipped of a sudden, determined to direct her energy somewhere, she broke the stare and spurred Pepper Ann to gallop away, leaving her long hair to wave in the wind.
The camp was a half-mile from the town, as towns did not like having military encampments on their doorstep scaring people away, except in times of war. Currently, the country wasn’t in open war, even if tensions ran high with the Republic to the south and conflict was expected. Even so, Daffolid lands were almost a week of travel from the border and not currently in danger. A long series of forts protected the border, and while they were not up to the standards of elven fortifications, by human standards they were exceptional.
The camp, by contrast, was not so impressive. Or rather, she supposed, it was impressive for being temporary and put together in a single day, but couldn’t be expected to do even as good a job as the city walls in the event of an attack. It did not need to, however. The legionnaires were simply in need of time and a way to funnel attacks where they wanted them. Such had been her past experience watching legions work, though she’d never served. Guards on duty appeared much less lax than the town guard, at attention and with eyes focused. Four men guarded the entrance to the camp, one of them clearly a knight in full armor.
“Halt!” declared the lead soldier. The patch on his shoulder proclaimed him a rod-holder, a noncommissioned officer responsible for discipline in a unit of ten. He stepped forward to act as his officer’s mouthpiece, so as to spare him the effort. The knight’s eyes were monitoring her. “State your business.”
“I bear a message from Knight-Lieutenant Franklin. I am bidden to deliver it to Sir Maglin,” she stated. The legionnaire kept his gaze upon her, slightly surprised, either by her ancestry or her use as a messenger.
“Right,” the officer said at last. “I am Sir Maglin. I can handle it from…” he suddenly trailed off, eyes widening. “Shit! Sound alarm! All to stations, precautions in place, and prepare a fire brigade at once!” he snapped out, shouting at full volume towards the camp.
Her own eyes widening, Catherine spun in the saddle to look backwards, horror descending upon her like the rain as she took in the massive column of smoke above the town. An orange glow of what could only be fire was visible beneath it, flaring suddenly and rapidly growing brighter. “Take the message and get moving! You were being ordered into town to collect a prisoner!” she shouted, throwing the letter to one of the legionnaires and spinning her horse about to make a run for it.
Her home was on fire. It’s burning! Mara!