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Lancelot had been met with no words at all from the burly steward. At first this did not greatly disappoint him, for the approval in the man’s eyes seem to suffice well enough. In fact, Lancelot noticed that Master Nathan looked very pleased indeed—until his eyes found the pendant. If Lancelot had been two years younger, he would have acted in guilt, and perhaps made an attempt to exonerate himself under the scrutiny of the steward. But now having aged some, he didn’t even lower his eyes to his long-held gift from Alanna. He continued to face Master Nathan in his mild-mannered composure—and whatever discomfort he may have felt was kept within.

The steward seemed to have accepted the pendant wordlessly. Lancelot walked by Alanna’s side as they followed the silent Master Nathan. He devoted all his attention to the interior of the manor—Alanna’s girlhood home; the dwelling in which she was born. Lancelot had not yet been to the castle in which he was born, and he wondered if it was still intact, since it had been attacked and ravaged by fire twenty years ago. And so he did not know the true sentimentality of visiting a place of one’s birth—until he came to the home of the lady he loved.

The only noise that came from Lancelot was that of his booted footsteps and soft clinking of mail armor. He was hushed, treating the stone dwelling with the sacredness of a church. The old home seemed to cultivate a quietude in itself—the worn carpets, the soft glow from the antiquated candelabras, aged dormant paintings… the empty thrones.

The throne room did not proclaim tragedy, however. Lancelot’s heart warmed when he espied Alanna softly gazing upon the chairs on which her parents and brothers once sat. Master Nathan spoke at last, and then excused himself. Inspiring even more admiration in Lancelot, Alanna turned to him, radiating the utmost joy. How beautiful and glorious she was that she could think of her largely deceased family and wallow not in the grief, but instead take delight in her own bright life and the fondness of her memories—as surely they would all prefer if they were alive.

He felt honored indeed to have her include him in the joy of her homecoming. He secured her closeness to him by wrapping his arms around her as she clasped him. As she spoke delightedly into his shoulder, he happily agreed as he stroked her hair. Indeed, he found it very wonderful that her home had not changed since she left.

Lancelot readily accepted her adoring peck, and would have kissed her in return if she had not been so eager to continue with his tour. He followed her tugging, and gazed more intensely at the thrones when she called attention to them. She was of a more noble stature than he initially imagined. Her father had been a lord, after all. And he presided over this little village with true goodliness, it sounded. He tried to imagine the lady and lord of Greensbury, sitting on their thrones and listening to the needs of their subjects. He could not readily picture her father, but had a thought as to what her mother looked like… an aged version of Alanna, of course.

His attention was called immediately back to young Alanna when she grasped his hand with sudden recollection. He met her sheepish look with one of loving sympathy. Somehow the delightful blush on her cheeks eased his own nervousness on the matter of how he would be introduced to her sister.

“Dearest Alanna… I shall not be offended by whatever you wish to call me. You need not reveal all at once. Rather—act as what strikes you in the moment, and I will follow suit. Perhaps, what is most important is how you will explain your own return.” His brows lifted in encouragement as he gave her a soft pat to her shoulder.

Mennah gladly wore the lovely ring around her finger, and joined hands with Armand as they slowly left the garden. She wished she could prolong the experience within the lush and fragrant place, but contented herself with the fact they were leaving to announce their intentions, be officially betrothed, almost as good as married. The torture of waiting though would take about a month though as they waited for their friends and family, well Armand’s family, for her only known family who would want to come was Ralcia. Though, she’d been in contact with some loch fey from up North lately, trying to learn more of her father’s family. Ralcia was hopeful to learn more of her late brother in law and his kin, but Mennah was not so hopeful. Her father had told her only once of the horrid wars that had ensued up North while he was a lad, and highly doubted any of his family remained living.

Not wishing to dwell upon that particular thought she turned to her love and smiled up at him. “We should probably wait to tell Ralcia last if we are to make the announcement ourselves. I love my cousin dearly, but when she becomes excited about something it’s likely the entire Shire will be informed by her within the hour.” She said making a jest.

~ _ ~ _ ~ _ ~ _ ~ _ ~

Juliana smiled at the suggestion. A small cozy village to hide away in sounded excellent at the moment. They could decide upon what to do next after they’d had a proper meal and some much needed rest. Juliana had been praised as the more resilient of the two sisters, but found even she was exhausted after such a torturous trip. By now they’re coachman was coming to and woke with a start at the sight he saw. He gave a shout of alarm in Gaelic, and Juliana quickly turned around and assured him they were friends and not here to harm them in Gaelic, before turning to their rescuers and smiled.

“We’d love to be escorted by you Milords, ‘tis quite kind of you to offer.” Juliana said pleasantly. The odd little furry lad then went off about how their gallant Knights were infact not yet knights. She raised an eyebrow to the furry little lad.

“I see. It’s a shame you’ve not been knighted yet, but you’re all gallant fighters with noble hearts, so I’m sure you’ll knighted by a fine Liege Lord soon. Mayhap the only delay is that too many a lord wish to have the pleasure and they’ve yet to decide who will have the honor.” Juliana said not loosing an ounce of her pleasantness. It mattered little to her that they were not yet knights, they had just been saved by an honorable lot, that was what truly mattered.

Lionel repeated the ladies’ names in his head. Mary and... Juliana. Such a lovely name. But... Oakford? Where was that? He wished he knew Britain better—even though he had been traversing it for two years. Well, apparently it didn’t matter much, for they did not even know where they were—and judging from their accents, they had lived in Britain for quite a while.

As Bors suspected, Lionel was pleased at the thought of bringing the ladies to Greensbury. There would be more time to speak and mingle with the lovely creatures (as Lionel was an eighteen-year-old young man, and quite fond of pretty ladies). Hopefully they would find out more about their predicament, and why they had to flee Oakford in such a hurry. And as Lionel had wished, Juliana agreed to be escorted to Greensbury.

Lionel’s mood soured when Semya made himself known again. The impertinence of having the monkey boy call him by his given name and without a respectful adage—made Lionel’s ears turn pink with annoyance. True, he was not a knight. But at least he was a prince, and surely he would become a knight. Every able-bodied man in his family was a knight. He was quite confident in his abilities.

And of course, Semya announced to the ladies that Lionel was not officially a knight. Lionel had to strain not to shake his fist at the vexing beast boy. A deliberate act of vengeance against him—they were now officially foes. When he saw Semya scurry up to the ladies, Lionel took a protective step forward. If the little pest lay one hairy finger on the fair ladies, Lionel would be sure to pounce on him.

He eased in his aggressiveness, however, when Juliana expressed her opinion, now that she knew that her rescuers were only squires. He wanted to hug her in all gratefulness. What a fine lady she was! Lionel smirked at Semya with satisfaction. Then his expression turned nice and wholesome when he turned again to Juliana.

“You are very generous with your flattery... Lady Juliana,” Lionel thanked, his dark eyes unusually warm. “In truth, my fellows and I are too young to be knighted. I ‘ave not been a squire for more zan four years.” A full length of training as a squire would span for seven years, when a young man hoped to be knighted once he was one and twenty. Of course, there were always the truly gifted squires who were knighted earlier than that.

Lionel glanced at Bors and imagined that he was the closest to achieving knighthood... him and Lancelot. One more year at most, and surely they would both have it. But instead of dreaming of what it would be like to be a true knight, Lionel turned to the ladies in need.

“Let us depart, then. Greenzbury iz so very close, and you ladies look weary. I can carry one of you on my steed.” He looked at either lady, although his eyes certainly favored Juliana. He held out his hand to whoever would accept it, and once they did, he would help them mount.

Maraud watched as Roryn held Aurora in his arms. Aurora babbled adoringly and roved his face with her little hands. Truly, he was a splendid father... did their romance suffer some since Aurora was born? Yes, perhaps it did... but Maraud had new insight into the motivation behind a fey woman’s natural inclination to rove from man to man. They did not want to stay with a man so long that they would become dull to him—a regular fixture to his life, once he became unimpressed by their magical ways and shallow beauty, and wanted them only for his banal domestic needs. When there was nothing new or special about lovemaking, and when in fact quarrelling would largely replace lovemaking; when the game was over and there was nothing left to look forward to except more screaming children... the fey so feared such a fate.

But Maraud had gone against the grain, and bravely discovered the life of a fairy homemaker. It was certainly not always glamorous, and often felt... un-magical. She had to purposefully think of ways to use her magic, so as not to forget that indeed she was a magical being. Just as she had to put in more effort to be romantic, more effort to continue to be alluring to Roryn—more effort to love him in return, when in fact the game of courtship appeared over—when it was her natural inclination to find a new man to pursue, it was her duty to stay with the father of her child. And she did, and she prided herself on the fact that she had stayed completely true. It was not impossible to do, after all.

And so, this moment when she stood outside their home with Roryn was not unlike many others. She wasn’t thinking of all these things, either—but merely watching her mate hold their child, her expression mild and content.

Once Mabuz had put away the deer hides so that wolves wouldn’t be attracted, they set out on a stroll through the woods. Maraud gently swung her basket, and admired the blooms she had to choose from. She did love foxgloves, and they were abundant, but she could not get past her superstition that they were bad luck to bring into the house, and besides that they were poisonous, and lately Aurora had been fond for sticking all manner of things in her mouth. And so, Maraud settled to pick some bluebells and orchids instead of the foxglove.

Mabuz walked beside Roryn, so as to lean over and tickle Aurora occasionally. He was close to Aurora like an uncle. He remembered seeing her for the first time, a perfect newborn swaddled in samite and clasped to an exhausted Maraud’s bosom. Then he had watched her grow, and now she could walk and talk and feed herself, although at the moment she was regressing by babbling and allowing herself to be carried by her papa.

Maraud had filled her basket to her content, and now halted in her steps and turned to Roryn. “Dear, I was thinking that we should take a holiday in Rozeshire. I would very much love to see dear Mennah again—she has turned eighteen, you know. And I do wonder where Lancelot has gone to now. I can’t help but spy a bit into the future, and see that if he travel to Rozeshire, we will encounter many of our old friends in the upcoming month... and none of them have seen our sweet Aurora.” She smiled at her daughter, leaning in to kiss her cheek where Roryn had kissed it before.

Mabuz’s face brightened at the suggestion of seeing Mennah and their other friends again. He even wanted to see Lancelot, amazingly. It had taken him two years of distance from his foster brother to appreciate his good qualities—although he knew that they could never be good friends. He had also never seen Rozeshire before, nor really travelled very far from Roryn’s dwelling for a long while.

“I would like that!” he exclaimed simply.

Alanna's eyes softened once again at Lancelot's words, and she rested an appreciative hand over his. It gave her great strength, knowing he was beside her. Just as it had during the past two years, when they faced bandits and brigands and all manner of unpleasantries, side by side. This challenge was just a bit different. And knowing that he would not be insulted if she failed to inform Adaline of their entire history together in the very beginning...this was just about as comforting as knowing he would be there. After all, they likely had a greater depth to their two years of togetherness than most couples did that had spent a lifetime together. One could not expect an outsider to their romance to possibly understand it all in a brief discussion!

"Thank you, beloved. Just having you beside me..." Alanna smiled almost vacantly, at a loss for words. So she simply rested her free hand on his rough cheek, leaned up (for he had grown a good deal taller than her during their travels) and finally delivered the proper, sweet and lingering kiss that had been storing itself up since their last one. If she hadn't been in such a romantic state, it might have occurred to Alanna that Adaline and Nathan might have returned in time to catch the lovers together, which would have made easing into an explanation impossible. But it seemed fortune was on their side and Nathan's old steps were slow, for there was no interruption. And when she pulled back at last, with a contented sigh, Alanna merely flashed her sweetheart a blissful smile and stroked his cheek once more. "I suppose I shall start with the simplest truth...and then work towards the finer details of it, shall I?"

The pair were allowed a few more moments of quiet, wherein Alanna quietly pointed out the significance of some of the older paintings...some merely gifts from talented peasant workers...and with embarrassment pointed out a chip in one of the benches that had resulted from a rough game with her brothers and a broken spade. She would have liked to show him a treasury, or a fanciful work of art commissioned by a great master...but Greensbury truly was a small estate, with a small manor, that had been lorded over by a peasant who had turned himself into a knight. There was no magical armory or beautiful mosaics within the guest rooms, and there was no team of chefs to slave over a grand feast like there had been in Lancelot's villa. But it was still her home, and she was still pleased to show him what she could.

But then, the break ended with the sound of softly swishing skirts and delicate footsteps coming to a dead halt at the exit Nathan had disappeared into. An almost inaudible gasp sounded as Alanna turned to face the newly arrived woman: a lovely creature, with pale hair like moonlit wheat and the same brown eyes as her sister. Lady Adaline had pressed one slender hand to her pale chest, her mouth partially open in a rather unladylike display of shock. The slender girl was frozen, stunned into a statuesque state. Alanna took a faltering step towards her sister, whose eyes were beginning to line with moisture, and then the younger woman cried out in a sudden eruption of emotion.

"Sister!"

And in a flash both girls had closed the distance, throwing their arms around one another and weeping as they kissed and embraced. This went on for several moments, the reunited siblings apparently oblivious to the rest of the world. As the women shared their moment, Nathan stood firm in the doorway with his own eyes glistening. Yet no tears fell, and after it seemed the Greensbury daughters were not likely to settle down anytime soon, Nathan strode forward in silence until he stood next to Lancelot and quietly clasped the young man on the shoulder.

"Come, my lad. Some things are not meant for men's eyes." And the elderly man, who still bore the strength of a few healthy oxen, guided the squire out of the greeting hall and into an adjacent room full of dusty old scrolls and cracked quills. Nathan's eyes drifted several times over his guest, and in particular the familiar necklace, and finally he spoke. "'Tis indeed a lovely pendant you wear, Sir du Lac. Might an old man inquire as to where you found it?"

-------

After a few terse moments with Lancelot alone with no company save the gruff Steward, Alanna and her younger sister entered the room arm in arm and with their cheeks still moist with tears. Both women looked simply elated, and one could only guess just how much catching up they had managed in the brief time they had been together. Alanna hurried forward with her younger sister in tow, brushing nervously at the tear tracks on her face as she stopped to grasp Lancelot's hand.

"Sister, may I introduce Lancelot du Lac? He is my dearest friend...and my dearest companion. We have been traveling together for some two years now," Alanna explained eagerly, her voice itself practically singing praises for Lancelot. It was true, he was her dearest friend and companion. He was also her dearest of various other areas, but she had left enough of a hint for the time being. Adaline already looked as though she were about to swoon from the shock.

"Sir Lancelot, it is indeed my greatest pleasure!" Adaline greeted, curtsying deeply

Semya giggled. He loved making people laugh, but something about how he irked Lionel was even more amusing, and he found he enjoyed it the more he did so. He stuck his tongue out at the would-be knight, "Oh please! I just helped you save these pretty girls and you thank me by treating me like some mindless animal! How chivalrous of you, oh noble knight!" he said and bowed in a very mocking tone.

"He has anger problems." he playfully said to the one named Mary, "But I'll bet he's a good guy when you know him a while!" he said, still managing to be nice toward Lionel, despite is growing love of irking the young man.

"So are we waiting for someone? Let's go to Greensbury! I can't wait to see it!" he said, dancing around like a child on Christmas Morning. There was noting Lionel could do to stop him from coming along. Even if he tried shunning Semya, the monkey would just keep following.

---

Roryn walked with the woman he thought of as his wife, as well as his friend and protoge'. Along the way, he played with Aurora, tickling her with an occcasional kiss to her cheek. After a while, he decided to let her sit on his shoulders.

Around this time, Maraud suggested they go to Rozeshire, "I would love to go, Dear, but..." he said with a sigh, "How will we get there? We have no horses, and we certainly can't borrow any kelpie from the Lake... I'm not even sure I know the way." he said apologetically. He wished he could be the human map they sometimes thought of him as, but he just wasn't, unfortunately.

"Unless, of course, you have the power to transport us there with your magic?" he asked, suggesting the only thing he could think of.

Lancelot knew from experience, that kissing his sweetheart was not the wisest thing to do when there was the possibility of interruption. Their present location in a musty, old castle especially gave him déjà vu. But from that amorous look beneath those heavy eyelids of hers, he saw clearly that she was in a special type of mood, and he felt a like inclination. As he promised, he followed suit and lowered his head so as to expand upon their earlier brief pecks. It was a sweet and sentimental kiss, but still restrained—for after all, he was in the presence of the thrones where her parents had once sat. Although they were not there, and he didn’t imagine that they would haunt their old manor, he still wanted to honor them by being loving, but respectable, with their daughter.

The feel of Alanna’s lips lingered with him once she pulled away. He stood entranced before her as she caressed his stubbly cheek. He agreed to her statement without even pausing to comprehend it: “Yes, anything, Alanna…” he murmured vacuously. Of course, he recovered his facilities quickly enough when she showed him the paintings, although his thoughts were still quite fuzzy, and none of the paintings made a lasting impression on him, when they were competing with the full-figured young woman standing beside him.

What did make a lasting impression on him was the entrance of Alanna’s sister: a respectable young lady with the lightest blond hair he had ever seen. It was an immensely emotional reunion, and Lancelot took a step back so as not to interrupt the natural course of gasps and tears. He felt his heart ache out of empathy for both young women, but mostly he respectfully looked aside, until Nathan led him away.

In the scriptorium, Lancelot stood dazedly, his mind vivid with the moving image of the embracing sisters. He sniffed away the slight tearfulness that overcame him, and faced the steward, who was looking intently at him. What was this man seeing when he studied him, Lancelot wondered? The squire was now accustomed to being sized up and appraised, his blazon mentally imprinted, as an opponent would do before a duel, or even as some ladies would after being rescued. Of course, based on his upbringing as well, Lancelot had always been the center of much observation. But he had never been gazed upon in such a manner as by the steward of Greensbury manor. It must have been the pendant again. When finally asked about it, Lancelot told the old steward the abridged truth: it was a ‘token of esteem,’ from Alanna, in exchange for a treasure of his own (but he did not say it was a ring, for that implied betrothal). He also told Master Nathan that he was aware that it once belonged to the late Lady Etain of Greensbury.

The interview was not all enjoyable, because the steward said hardly a word, and his opinion of Lancelot was yet mysterious. But soon enough, the sisters returned, and Lancelot was relieved by a face he knew held nothing but admiration for him. He squeezed Alanna’s hand that grasped his. She did not often cry, but Lancelot was not at all troubled by the evidence of her tears; it was entirely appropriate for the situation. And in combination with the joy on her face, her tear-streaked visage was positively radiant. Her sister, also, was admirable in her refined beauty.

Lancelot’s heart throbbed wildly when Alanna finally introduced him. He felt the blood rush to his face, although outwardly, he showed his pleasure in his smile and his brown eyes, bright and full of love, although his brows hinted somewhat at his self-consciousness. Two years was a long while for an unmarried man and woman to be in each other’s company. And since Adaline and Nathan were not meeting his cousins yet, they may assume that Alanna and Lancelot had been traveling alone. Perhaps this matter was what was causing the shock on Adaline’s elegant face.

However, Adaline was amiable and courteous enough when she said her first words to him. Lancelot pulled his eyes away from Alanna and met eyes with her sister. Their eyes were the most similar feature between the sisters, but in other matters of appearance, they were quite different—particularly... their figures, although Lancelot refrained from studying Adaline’s slim frame with too much interest. Their contrasting manner of dress suited them well. Adaline was of a more boyish figure, but wore a dress that elegantly draped about her, while her older sister was of a heavenly figure that would be far too eye-catching if she did not clothe herself in modest, boy-like tunic and chausses. She still caught Lancelot’s eye often enough, though—definitely more often than he would readily admit to.

“Lady Adaline!” Lancelot gushed with an enthusiasm that had grown from much anticipation. He bowed as she curtsied. Then he stood and faced her again and could not contain his smile. “It is a true honor to meet the sister of my dear friend. I have nothing but the highest regard, for you, milady, and your remarkable manor and this splendid village. I hail from a small Lake, you see, some hundred or so miles south of here, between Peterborough and Beale Valet. Before I met Alanna, I wouldn’t have even been able to tell you that much about its location. I owe much to her, for showing me the realm outside my small home.” He sent Alanna one more heartfelt glance, and then smiled again at Adaline.

Adaline smiled serenely at Lancelot's eagerness in their meeting, and though she was yet young and inexperienced with matters of the heart...she had spent enough time meeting with newly arranged couples to recognize the encompassing glow that emanated from the stranger's eyes, illuminating her sister's form as though it were a valid light source. And she recognized the equally luminous gaze in Alanna's eyes, and the way her elder sibling seemed to brighten each time her adoring gaze crossed with that of Sir du Lac's. Though they appeared to be aiming for some discretion, the bond the pair shared looked to be more powerful than their self control. But since they had not entirely owned to a romantic connection, Adaline decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and merely assume that they were indeed platonic friends...who had not yet confessed their love to one another. So she greeted Lancelot with the same grace as she would any other strapping stranger, and chose to ignore the fact that he looked so amorously upon her recently recovered sister.

"And any friend of my dear sister's shall always be welcome in Greensbury. I am so pleased to hear that you approve of our humble home! We have little, but what we do possess is at thy disposal, Sir du Lac. I do so long to hear of your adventures with dear Alanna..." Adaline's warm brown eyes swept quickly over Alanna's strange appearance...the carefully mended men's clothing, the loose and (in comparison to Adaline's, and indeed any other fashionable lady) wild long hair, the deeply tanned skin...and even their father's sword!...and she tried to imagine just what a respectable lady would be doing in such a state for two years. She would be most interested to hear what Sir du Lac had to say about the matter, for he looked to be a most effective knight! "...But where are my manners? Oh, do forgive me! I have failed to introduce you to Master Nathan!"

Nathan shifted his gruff self into a slightly less gruff position, shaking his wrinkled head. "Nay, Lady Adaline. I have become acquainted enough with Sir du Lac. Do not interrupt thyself on my count."

"Nonsense! Master Nathan is our family's, and Greensbury's, most trusted counsel. A more steadfast and worthy man I have yet to meet, and though he speaks of himself humbly, he is by far our most trusted source of guidance. He has been faithful to our family since even before our father became Lord of Greensbury. They traveled together as errant knights, and fought together, and when our father met our mother-" Adaline flushed as she realized that she was rambling a bit, and shyly patted Alanna's arm that she still had her own linked into. It was this action that caused Alanna to realize she was still squeezing Lancelot's hand, and with a blush she discreetly released it. Now both sisters were tinged pink, and neither seemed sure of what to say or do.

"Perhaps the young Sir du Lac and the fair Lady Alanna are weary from their travels?" Nathan offered at last, clearing his throat and nodding towards the door to suggest the party take leave of the somewhat cramped and very dusty writing office. Adaline and Alanna looked at one another, unsure, and Nathan continued. "Mayhaps the travelers would be pleased with a touch of noon meal?"

"Ah, yes, an excellent idea, Master Nathan," Adaline blushed more deeply and nodded a bit more quickly than a graceful lady might have in a normal situation, making a sweeping motion towards the door. "Please, come and allow us to serve you! We do not have any fancy cuisine here in Greensbury, but surely something more pleasing than...than berries and mushrooms."

It was apparent that Adaline had little idea of what survival outside of the village was like, and Alanna smiled at the endearingly flustered girl as she was pulled out after Nathan. As they went, she flashed another adoring smile at her lord, out of sight of Nathan and Adaline...and mouthed a heart-felt 'thank you.'

--------

While Lionel bickered with Semya, Bors made an educated decision to let them quarrel in peace. As long as Semya did nothing truly damaging to Lionel, and Lionel did not become too upset with the situation, then having them pick at one another was better than causing a great stir by trying to parent the both of them. And at the moment, Bors was distracted by and focused on seeing to the comfort of Mary and Julianna, and seeing them safely to Greensbury. He hoped that Lancelot would not be too bothered by his private hours with Alanna and her family being cut short.

Juliana smiled at Lionel, and took his hand. She had always been the more outgoing of the two sisters, while Mary was rather shy. Neither of the other men had offered a hand, so she shifted awkwardly for a moment while Juliana mounted with Lionel. Mary gave a meek, but not unfriendly smile to Semya in response to his jokes. She didn’t wish to be rude to any of them, even the odd little furry man. She did take a minuet to admire their rescuers though. Lionel was of average looks, but held a noble heart that her sister seemed to fancy. Then there were Bors and Kantus, both very kind and hansom men, Bors especially. Though she doubted she looked at all appealing to any of them. It had been commented many a time that Juliana was the fairer of the sisters with her naturally dark, but warm and kind good looks and outgoing well spoken nature. Those traits were quite contradictory to her own, though still a kind and loving Christian woman, Mary was a soft spoken and at times meek young Lady. Her looks were also strikingly different from her sister. She was beautiful yes, but with her soft curls of golden hay colored hair and light blue eyes, it was a far cry from her sister’s striking beauty. There where many times when she wished she could be more like her rose of a sister, but contented herself with the fact that at least she’d make a good wife one day. At least she hoped so.

“’Tis true we’re quite tire. We are in our debt my good Sir.” Juliana said with a charming smile to Lionel.

Kantus was pleased with the situation in general. They had rescued two lovely damsels in distress, and to boot they were both lookers. Though he found himself in the same boat as Lionel when Semya the Monkey King noted out loud that the men were not knights. Though he had become more modest over the past two years, he still desired to be held in high regards by beautiful ladies, as did most any man,and so this statement from the stranger annoyed Kantus, though clearly not as much as Lionel, for he took a protective step forward when Semya approached the ladies. In truth Kantus couldn't tell if it was a gesture of dominance, or a genuine play for protection. Likely it was a combination of the two.

Kantus softened his guard somewhat when Juliana so diplomatically relieved the tension of the situation, for if anything broke out between the two then Kantus would be forced to support his brother in arms. Noticing Lionel's gesture of offering the hand to a lady, and then seeing Juliana take it, Kantus followed suit short behind Lionel by following his chivalrous example, and offering his hand to Mary. This secretly pleased Kantus, as he thought her to be the more attractive of the two, and Kantus justified this potential sinful line of thought by convincing himself Bors was to good a man to carry with him a woman, and probably wouldn't care either way, which was probably true anyway.

Lancelot du Lac’s smile became more forced when Adaline spoke at length about Master Nathan. The family’s most trusted counsellor, a source of guidance, a close companion to Alanna’s father; almost a brother, as it sounded... he had served his post a long time, and most definitely had known Alanna since she was born. This was all well and good, and Lancelot was pleased to meet such a man, so highly esteemed in Alanna’s house. But... Lancelot had the grave impression that Master Nathan did not like him.

Of course, it was not obvious at all, and Lancelot was assuming much. In truth, the squire did not know how to interpret the steward’s lukewarm reticence. Lancelot was an open person himself, and he was quite candid in his opinions of his acquaintances. And most people seemed to like Lancelot, excepting the villains he throttled. Of course, there were the men who he butted heads with, but they were few and far between, and it was near always a rivalry over leadership. As far as he knew, he did not challenge the steward’s position, and had behaved his best. What did Greensbury’s beloved steward find wrong with Lancelot du Lac?

It must have been because Nathan did not see him as a proper match for Alanna, Lancelot thought as he noticed Alanna blushingly release his hand. Then his eyes lowered when Nathan addressed him by his epithet, emphasizing his youth and Alanna’s beauty... mentioning the aspect of ‘travel’ twice. Perhaps he found it improper that Lancelot had travelled with Alanna for so long. Surely that was it. Having been a young man once himself, surely Master Nathan had insight into the temptations of the flesh that Lancelot had faced while being in Alanna’s company... wandering in the seclusion of vast forests.

Lancelot managed to overcome his discomfort, and met eyes with the elder man when he suggested a meal. As he focused on maintaining a friendly ease about his visage, his stomach growled loudly. “Pardon me,” he excused his bodily sound with mild chagrin. “Indeed, a meal would be greatly appreciated.”

He was not starving, but Adaline’s comment about the food of the forest reminded him of his often scant meals. He had grown even leaner since his life in the Lake. For two years he had gone without the richness of fairy food, and along with growing stronger and taller, he had lost all extraneous weight. The pickings of the roots, shoots and small game could never satiate as well as the large meals that were prepared in castles. How he longed for some wholesome, buttered bread, and some salted, spiced beef or pork... and a dish of plump, dill-fed snails.

He was salivating and hoping that his stomach would hush up as he followed after Adaline and Nathan. His wants were roving from the meat and potatoes, and on to what he might like for dessert. Honey and berries were the fine delectables of the earth, but how much they would be improved when baked with flour and eggs, and topped with butter and cream... And while he was thinking of these tasty cakes and pastries, he was well aware of another sweet temptation... smilingly adoringly at him, mouthing her appreciation on honeyed lips. Curse his lavish upbringing! If only he had been raised in a nunnery, and knew nothing of sweetmeats and beautiful women. His inclination was to lick his chops and mouth all manner of love-wanting things to his dearest... an inner conflict which resulted in a restrained smile which made his mouth but a firm line that twitched ever slightly at the upturned corners. It could feasibly pass as a smile... yet, there was nothing he could do to conceal his hungry eyes.

Alanna caught the look in Lancelot's eyes, which was only enhanced by the tightness of his smile. And though her cheeks reddened just the tiniest bit, her smile widened just a touch more. She recognized the unsatiated gleam in his handsomely dark eyes, for she knew that she had been caught with it in her own...more than she would, as a lady, willingly admit to. And though she didn't know what she had done to trigger it this time, as usual she merely wrote it off as a natural feeling that surely all youths were prone to. Besides, neither of them had truly acted on the depths of such desires...and so there was no sin, she was certain of it. So she had deemed moments when she found herself on the receiving end of the hungry looks to be taken as nothing but flattering, and left it at that. She did, however, once more catch hold of his hand as they were led away from the scriptorium, away from the meeting hall, and through a few more of the narrow passageways into a dining hall that was not even a fraction of the size of the villa's. Yet it was still large enough that those in Greensbury Manor would be able to feast without knocking elbows with one another, and there were at least a few tables and benches.

"Please, sit, I shall see to our cooks about raising up a quick meal for you both," Adaline offered, her eyes bright as she guided the visiting couple to a waiting table. She knew that there must be a grand (by Greensbury's standards) celebration for her sister's return, and all of the village people must be made aware of it, but for now she simply wanted to stifle the sound of Sir Lancelot's grumbling stomach. So she hurried away to the kitchen in a dignified manner, leaving Nathan, Lancelot and Alanna alone. Alanna continued to subtly clasp Lancelot's hand beneath the table, and looked positively thrilled with the situation. Nathan looked very much like his stern self, his old knees popping as he eased himself onto a bench across from the un-announced lovers.

Lionel was so annoyed with Semya that his eyes went cross a moment. That was as he breathed deeply to himself, a precaution to keep him from pounding the monkey man’s head in. The lad had just stuck his tongue out at him! And then mocked his chivalric adherence!

“You are a mindlezz animaux,” Lionel grumbled in return, the statement barely discernable amidst the thickness of his French brogue. He gnashed his teeth when he saw Semya chuckle something to Mary—some vile slander against him, no doubt. What it was in truth, he did not hear.

He did hear dancingly Semya announce his anticipation for seeing Greensbury. Lionel groaned audibly. What business would this foolish primate have in the small village, anyway?

Of course, the French prince’s mood was much improved when fair Juliana accepted his hand with a most pleasing smile. After indulging a moment in the feel of her hand in his, Lionel helped her to mount first, and then climbed on so as to sit behind her while grasping the reins. It was a good thing he was sitting, for all the sudden his knees went weak when she turned and smiled charmingly at him.

“No, I do not hold ladies in debt,” he told her, putting on a very noble air. “But I will insist that you allow us to accompany you until you are safe among your kinsmen, or whichever able-bodied men you trust...” his eyes passed over the coachman—clearly the lad did not offer sufficient protection for the two ladies. “You said you hail from Oakford, but you did not tell uz for what reason you had to flee? It iz my duty to know, Lady Juliana, so that I may further assist you.”

Before riding off, Lionel’s black eyes passed over his fellows—Kantus had duly offered his hand to the other lady. The coachmen would follow on foot with Semya, unless Bors gave him a ride. There were four bodies strewn on the grass. Three were dead and bloodied, and the fourth was alive and dazed, having been comically harassed by Semya. Lionel was not adamant about burying his enemies, so he saw fit to leave the corpses, and allow the peasants to search and bury them. He gently kicked his horse’s side, and rode down towards Greensbury.

It was indeed very pleasant to share a saddle with a fair lady who was petite and warm. Lionel did not often have the pleasure. As he rode along, he made knightly conversation with Juliana, apologizing first for the fact that she had to see men slain before her.

“But it was better that they were slain rather than you two ladies,” Lionel justified. “I despise all men who try to hurt ladies. They deserve to be put to death.” He prided himself on his moral absolutism.

Soon enough they entered Greensbury, and Lionel halted his horse on the village green. He appraised his surroundings a moment, and then turned to consult with Bors and Kantus. “I think we should knock at the doors of the chateau, no? These ladies need rest!” he noted adamantly, as if Juliana and Mary would keel over at any moment from exhaustion. “Surely we will gain admittance, since we are friends of Alanna. And I expect to find Lancelot and Alanna in the manor, unless they are... touring the orchard first.” 'Dallying' would be a more appropriate verb-choice no doubt, but out of respect for his kinsman, Lionel never hinted at Lancelot behaving dishonorably, even in jest.

Marry looked up at Kantus as he held out his hand, and a shy smile spread across her face as she accepted it, and carefully mounted with Kantus’ help. Juliana smiled at the conversation, though a bit wistfully as it turned toward them and their flee from Oakford.

“We found it necessary to run, as we were no longer safe there. Our father died recently, and our neighbor, Lord Harold, wasted no time invading our land and taking over. We were the only problems for a full take over, and so his intentions were made clear. He intended to make one of us his bride, and the other a mistress for him and his men. As you can imagine, I couldn’t let that happen to either of us, so we fled.” Juliana explained, her face loosing a touch of it’s shine just thinking upon it.

The early morning sun peaked its first rays over the rolling hills of Saxon country, as a small column, weaved its way through heading towards the nearest known Saxon village. All seemed well and the day ahead seemed like another sunny day.

That morning Arthur’s small force had been bolstered by two hundred more men, from the border fort. This brought the total up to around five hundred men at arms and about ten Knights of the Round Table. The line moved forward with a purpose, a purpose to bring revenge to those that had been hurt by this Saxon scum.

At the head of the column Arthur sat upon his Black Steed, his right hand playing with the hilt of his sword, when Durfel spoke up from behind him.

"Sir to the east" his call was one with worry in the words.

Looking to the east Arthur saw the approach of one of the 4 scouts he had sent out, returning with great speed, just behind him the starts of a dust cloud could be seen, the Saxons had heard of his march. Arthur was about to turn to call out a plan when another call went out from the back of the column.

"My lord to the south"

Arthur watched as another of his scouts appeared, they were only told to return on the site of the enemy they had been surrounded, they must of been betrayed. Arthur thought quickly, thinking back to when they had last ventured this way. It then came to him; calling back to his knights he spoke

"Knights of the Round, get the men to the west with all haste there is a hill we can make are stand" Arthur spoke, and with a nod his knights began to shout out orders to the men.

An hour had past when the Saxons could be seen marching towards there position. They had taken up on a steep hill; the men formed a shield wall all the way around the Knights at different points to encourage the men to great feats of heroics. Arthur Stood at the top of the hill, with fifty men around him, he would watch and send the men were they need to be were the line looked like crumbling, with himself at there head, by his side holding the dragon banner high stood Durfel, with his own sword stuck in the ground just in front of him.

"Today my warriors, my brothers, we stand in the face of odds more than we have seen before" Arthur’s voice boomed out over the gathered men as the Saxons uncounterable in number began to circle the hill "Today is the day we become heroes, today we can break the Saxons here and halt there advance into are country. Today you stand in the defense of all those that can not defend themselves, Mothers, daughters, son's, today you may die but, you will be reborn in the heavens, were you will feast for eternity at the table of are ancestors, with your battle brothers and the kings of old"

All-round the hill, the men cheered and began to call out there battle cries, banging spears swords axe's against shields. Then all went quiet as a lone figure walked out of the Saxon lines, and in a rough English called out a challenge to Arthur, calling him a coward, a son of a whore, and other such insults in his own tongue.

The man watched as the Britons went quiet, then they separated as Arthur step through them, and began to descend the hill towards the challenger, drawing Caledfwlch as he walked, lifting his shield with the red dragon embezzled on it

"I accept your challenge Scum" Can the reply as Arthur came within earshot, of the Saxon.

While sitting on her father’s shoulders, Aurora first kept her hands on his head, and then tried to reach up and grab at tree boughs. The only thing she managed to grab was a tiny leaf, which she discarded after examining closely.

Maraud halted after Roryn spoke. She was pleased that he wanted to accompany her to Rozeshire, but she was also slightly disgruntled that he would worry over how they would get there. Although, that was one of the things that she liked about him—that he was infallibly practical.

“Rory! Of course I can get us there by magic… we can be there in an instant!” she snapped her fingers to show the expediency of her magic. Of course, they remained were they were, since she had not willed their departure. “Just because I haven’t used it for two years, doesn’t mean I have forgotten how to do it.” At least, that was what she hoped. It was possible for a fey to get rusty if she had not exercised her powers regularly.

To show that she was not entirely annoyed with him, Maraud patted his cheek fondly. “Now. I have not spoken to Mennah lately, but I’m sure she will welcome us. I don’t see why we could not leave today, even. Let’s return to the house, and pack our things.” She turned around, and gestured for the two men to follow her back. It had been a short walk, but she had been expecting that she would have to spend more time convincing Roryn to come. Her one concern was if Mabuz should see Mennah again. He wanted to, but would Mennah be pleased? Maraud decided that it would be best for them to meet again, at least to reconcile.

Kantus smiled at Mary as she took his hand and he aided her in mounting his charger Lamina before mounting himself. He removed his helm that he forgot was there after he launched himself upon Lamina, retying it to its position oh the side of Lamina, who gave a snort at the added weight, for she was still tired from their long journey. Kantus stroked her main once more lovingly, and again reassured her that she would be resting soon, with all the hay in the world to lavish upon.

Kantus followed Lionel's lead as he guided thew group towards Greensbury, with Semya following with the group. It was rather surprising to Kantus that the monkey king could follow so quickly while on foot. Kantus also felt himself hoping lady Mary would not find herself cold upon Kantus' rustic chainmail. "Are you comfortable, milady?" e called back to Marry to inquire about her state of comfortability. Other than that Kantus did not say much during the trip, for everything he thought of saying seemed touched with arrogance, and if Kantus was ever to become a true knight like Lancelot, then he would need to follow his example of modesty. Something Kantus still found difficult to do.

However when Lady Juliana mentioned about her fathers kingdom crumbling, he opened his mouth in shock, surely the High King Arthur would not tolerate such in-fighting amongst his kingdoms. Well, whatever the situation, Kantus would ensure to the ladies safety, and he knew Bors and Lionel and Lancelot would as well. "I am truly sorry to hear about the fate you and your kingdom has suffered... but I assure you, you could be with no better knights in all the world to ensure your safety than us." Kantus almost winced as a piece of his arrogance shone through, but he really did intend this more as a comfort than a brag, though it likely came out as equally both.

Eventually the horse backed party reached the town of Greensburry, and Kantus relished the beauty of the scenery within the city. Surely Alanna was a lucky woman to find herself born into this estate. Then, Lionel consulted the group about their next actions, and Kantus agreed. "Aye, we should indeed find rest for the ladies, and I too see no reason to be rejected from the mannor, though I also need to find a suitable stable for my horse, for she is weary from our journey. Of course she can wait until the ladies are taken care of."

For some odd reason, Kantus had a bad feeling, and he found himself wondering what the Monkey King was up to, and what impression he would leave upon the group when they reach the gates of the mannor. Whatever the impact of his presence, Kantus felt it probably wouldn't be good, and he felt himself getting slightly annoyed by the fact that the monkey king was tagging along. True he had an uplifting spirit, but Semya wa smuch too jester-like for Kantus' pride to be able to be seen with. But Lancelot had allowed him in the group, so somehow Kantus rebuked the thought and held faith in Lancelot's judgement.

Lancelot sat down in the modest dining hall. He felt jittery, not only from the eager anticipation of a good meal, but from the fact that he now found himself in a place that he had travelled many leagues to reach. He wanted to speak more with Lady Adaline, and so he hoped she would return soon after giving her order to the cooks.

In the meantime, there was something else making his insides squirm—Alanna was holding his hand under the table. It made him feel like him and Alanna were children, sneakily hiding their affections from the imperious Master Nathan. Of course, they were not much older than children. Although, according to the medieval lifespan, they were well into adulthood by then. But Lancelot liked holding Alanna’s hand, and did not often have the pleasure of doing so (after all, when was there ever time to hold hands when crossing swords with foul brigands?). Even though it was mildly risky to do so, Lancelot continued to intertwine his fingers with Alanna’s, and affectionately stroked her palm with his thumb.

As he continued to fondle Alanna’s hand, Lancelot faced Nathan, and decided to have another try to befriend the gruff steward. “Master Nathan, Lady Adaline mentioned that you had travelled with the late Lord of Greensbury. I would be honoured if you would recount some of these adventures. I wish dearly that I could have known Sir Robert. Alanna has spoken nothing but the highest praise for her father.” He turned his eyes tenderly to Alanna for a moment, and squeezed her hand accordingly.

Looking back to Nathan, he continued: “Most men find it unsuitable that Alanna wields her father’s sword and accompanies me on quests. In fact, we have been met with cases of quite vehement disapproval...” Lancelot glanced at Alanna again, and clenched his jaw in recollection of being heatedly denounced by several knights they had met in their travels. Lancelot had even been challenged to duel, the opposing knight believing he was not treating his lady right by putting her in harm’s way. Then his jaw eased, as he moved past those memories, and could fairly accept them as natural consequences. At least Alanna’s own family had not berated her behavior.

“But I have continued to support her, for I believe she is competent in her skills as a ladyknight. We have faced dozens of perils together, and in all of them she was of use, and even saved my life in several accounts. Just last month we fought against the bandits of Cheshire, who were holding the Countess of Cheshire captive, and Alanna near rescued the Countess single-handedly. And before that, we slew the Manticore of Garloth... a most wicked beast. The legends are true; indeed they have three sets of teeth. But Alanna displayed the most of her merit when she headed the effort to save a dozen children from roasting on the spits of the Giant of Walweitha.” Lancelot’s eyes lit with passion as he remembered the daring rescue. “I shudder to think of how foul that giant was, who would feast on a man’s limbs as we would a lamb’s. And Alanna was the one to smite him with the lethal blow, having such brilliant aim with a spear. I swear to you, Master Nathan, Alanna has the strength of iron in her arm.”

Lancelot was smiling proudly at Alanna, and would have continued to describe the grisly details of more of their antics, had food not been brought in at that moment. The dripping fangs of manticores and giants feasting on people was not at all suitable conversation for dining. Lancelot cleansed his hands in the washbowl, and then, after praying briefly, began to gratefully consume the food set before him. There was some type of delicious roasted fowl—perhaps capon. There was another dish of bread to be dipped in a thick pottage. He was also given a tankard of barley ale, which was fine for satisfying his thirst. The whole of his meal satisfied his stomach just as he had expected the home-cooked food of a manor would.

Alanna felt her heart quiver with every stroke from Lancelot's thumb, but she was pleased that at least she managed to keep her expression of pleasure on her face dimmed down to a mere serene smile. It was so rare that they were ever experiencing a moment of both peace and privacy, so even now when she was reunited with her beloved home and family, she was pleased with the opportunity to be affectionate. Even if it was beneath a table where she had once chased away a mangy cat that had bitten poor Adaline.

When Lancelot began to speak of their past ventures, however, Alanna did indeed blush modestly. Hearing him speak of her actions in the past made them sound so much more glamorous than they had been! True, she had slain a few beasts and rescued a dozen or so children. But that had simply been the only choice at the time, and she had made a vow to protect those who could not protect themselves and wield justice as her blade. And surely, she had more often than not been scoffed at for her strange lifestyle...once or twice she had even been accused of some sort of witch craft...but Lancelot had stood fast by her side, and surely that deserved more praise than her own meager contributions. So many lives he had saved, so many foes he had conquered! Yet he sat there and eagerly described her actions over the past two years, as though she had somehow earned more praise than he.

"I have wielded my father's sword faithfully, it is true...but Sir Lancelot grants me far too much credit!" Alanna protested mildly, her cheeks warming once more. She squeezed his hand and glanced shyly at him, then looked back to Nathan, whose expression was mostly unreadable...but held a trace amount of approval. "Sir Lancelot is the bravest of men, Master Nathan...he has bested countless foes, often despite injury or fatigue, and as he has said...he has stood faithfully by my side as I have his, no matter the challenges we have received."

Alanna's cheeks grew a bit warmer as she caught herself staring adoringly at Lancelot, drinking in the fetching scruff on his cheeks and the precious manner with which his dark hair curled around his ears. She had begun dreaming of the expressions on his face during some of their more demanding trials, and the valiant light that shown through his eyes while he proclaimed whatever it was he felt needed proclaiming at any given moment. Her heart had begun to flutter as she lost herself in the warmth of his pallor and the strong lines of his jaw, and it took a good mental shake to drag herself out of the state. If only she could love him just a little less!

"Why...why once, Sir Lancelot even fought a terrible, plague-breathed dragon...and defeated it with but a broken lance! It was the stuff of legends, I swear to you I have yet to hear of such a feat from another man..!" Alanna wished to exclaim more of the wonderful heroic deeds of her beloved, but by then Adaline had returned. And despite the younger sister's curious looks, the meal was being served and there was a tender-hearted lady present who would likely not have enjoyed hearing about how the dragon had continued to fight with half a lance stuck in its bleeding wing.

As the food (delicious and wholesome, if humble, just as she recalled it) was passed and served, and just as Alanna had filled her mouth full of bread smothered in stew, Nathan finally spoke.

"Lady Alanna...I must ask...why have you chosen to wield your father's sword? And Sir Lancelot, how is it you came to be of a different mind than all who have challenged the lady's mannerisms?" Nathan raised his mug and took a deep drought as Adaline raised her delicate brows in interest. Alanna nearly choked, having hoped (and knowing she had done so in vain) that this question would not arise. Once she had composed herself, she cleared her throat several times and nervously twisted the ring on her finger.

"Master Nathan..." She started, then changed her mind and went in a different direction. She cleared her throat once more, then spoke so softly that one might have thought she was uttering a prayer. "As you know, Master Nathan, my good Lord and Father was a humble, noble-hearted man. But hardly a nobleman...being so only just, as a reward for his valor. Lord Robert, my goodly sire, was worthy of the greatest of honors in court. But he busied himself with caring for his family and subjects here in Greensbury, and never pushed his own name forward. My brothers were like men, being noble of heart and soul...and surely would have brought much honor to our father's name. But all were deprived of this most just reward, in a cruel twist of fate that..."

Here, Alanna had to pause, as her voice grew tight with emotion. Both she and Adaline (and in truth, Nathan) had become a bit misty-eyed, thinking of the tragedy that had fallen upon the family. But after a moment, and with a self-prescribed squeeze of Lancelot's hand, Alanna continued. "With mother and father, and our brothers, gone...it seemed that our family name would end with little granted to it. My father would pass through history unknown and...it was too much to bare, even the thought of such deprivation to such a worthy man. I wished to earn honor to my father's name, to my family's name, even if it meant...And so I...I took up my father's sword, and learned to fight as a man. I go forth with my father's spirit, and his blade, and battle injustice as he once did...and grant any honor I may glean to his name."

"Just as he once strove to earn honor for his children, as his own father failed to do for him. I see." Nathan's gruff voice was lined with a foreign emotion, as he roughly rubbed at each of his eyes and folded his arms with a single terse nod. Adaline was sniffling and dabbing at her eyes, patting her sister's hand approvingly. After a moment of silence, Nathan emit a rumbling sound that might have been a clearing of his throat and waved his hand impatiently at the girls. "Eat, eat! Scrawny women are highly unattractive, plump thyselves up or there'll be no husbands for either of you!"

Then, Nathan fixed his stern eyes upon Lancelot, seizing his mug and taking another deep drought. "And you, Sir Lancelot. You approve of this lady?"

When Lionel had heard what had befallen the ladies of Oakford, his mouth had gaped. But he said nothing, noting that Juliana did not appear eager to talk about the death of her father and the attack on her home. But internally, he was reeling. He had never met Lord Harold, but he already loathed him more than any other man. Clearly, the man was wicked and unprincipled... not only springing upon an estate after that Lord had recently passed, but desiring one daughter as his wife, and the other as mistress for him and his men! Lord Harold was a lewd demon! ‘I’ll ‘ave ‘iz neck!’ Lionel asserted internally.

He boldly nodded his head when Kantus affirmed them as fully capable of protecting the ladies. Lionel even went a step further, and promised this to Juliana:

“We cannot leave you unescorted, Lady Juliana, not with your estate usurped and zis Lord Harold... with such desires for you and your sister,” Lionel said heatedly. “I, personally, will fight with him if I need to. You only need to tell me how far to Oakford, and in what direction, and how many men Lord Harold has. I will be pleased to be rid of him for you, Lady Juliana.”

Of course, he didn’t know how many men he’d have to face to get to Lord Harold, and he may very well perish by ambush if Harold’s forces were great. But Lionel was not thinking of the reality of the situation. He was only running his thumb and forefinger along the dark mustache that was sprouting on his face, picturing himself presenting Juliana with Lord Harold’s head. He may very well be rewarded a kiss for his heroic deed...

He snapped out of his reverie when he remembered that the ladies were in need of immediate hospitality.

“On to the chateau then,” he set forth on his steed again, carrying his head high as he passed peasants on foot. Eventually, they came to the stone wall that protected the manor. Lionel spotted iron rings attached to the wall, through two of which were tethered Lancelot and Alanna’s chargers.

“Here we are,” Lionel said as he dismounted. He held out his arms to help Juliana down from the saddle. Once her feet had touched the ground, he looked down at her a moment and took in her face, struck by her beauty. Then he cleared his throat, and promptly took a step back. Surely she would not appreciate him gawking at her.

After he tethered his charger, Lionel turned to the coachman and requested that he stay to watch their horses and guard them from being stolen. Then he addressed Kantus. “Lamina can rest here for now, my friend. I’m sure that the manor has a suitable stable beyond zis wall.”

“Come, Lady Juliana. You will surely be welcomed here. We are good friends with the daughter of the late lord of zis chateau,” Lionel assured Juliana. “Will you accept my arm, milady?” He offered his arm to her, so that he might walk with her to the gate, where they would await a steward or seneschal.