The Kingdom of Mederva

The bright and rare grin that flashed across Ephraim made Giselle smile even more, and even though she was now burying her real feelings, it was nice to see him smile. It was such a brilliant sight that few people had the opportunity to witness it. Ephraim was always so strictly proper and business like that when a grin such as this one was a treat, especially for Giselle. It was glimpse of what he was like when he was a child, and all Giselle wanted to do was take that grin, put it in a bottle and save it.

His genuine happiness was so hard to find these days, and Giselle decided that it was probably best that she had thanked him. Truly, she was happy for this separation, but there was still a twitching in the back of her mind. Most everyone in the castle had known that she wanted to marry him; it wasn’t like she was hiding it. In fact, most people thought Ephraim was a bit dense in not taking notice to her.

Walking with him she lowered her head at his comment, another small chuckle coming from her. Once they were at the door she looked back up at him and nodded. Giselle had heard that the Crowned Prince of Shahari was coming, but nothing was confirmed until that moment. Shahari was a beautiful land, she had heard, but she had never visited the place. She only knew it for its exquisite flowers and divine silk dresses. As far as its reputation went, Giselle also knew that they were very different people. The Ward, like most of the women in the kingdom of Mederva had not traveled the world and experienced the rest of the world.

The traditions and behaviors of the Prince Malik would surely be a surprise to her. Giselle was used to this very proper environment of the castle of Mederva, and although she longed for a bit of adventure and freedom, she did not know of the carefree spirit of the people of Shahari. “Thank you for the warning.” She said in a light voice, a little bit of humor in her undertones. She wasn’t sure how “interesting” this Prince would be, but he probably wasn’t someone she couldn’t handle.

Giselle followed Ephraim’s gaze toward the pile of paperwork. A short-lived frown was on her face as she realized he was still trapped with his royal duties and didn’t have time to do what he liked. “Alas, I have to go see the chef and a few other people about arrangements for tonight. Also…” Giselle interrupted the prince before he could continue speaking. “Perhaps you should forget these papers until tomorrow. After all, another guest is coming to stay in our castle. You can only stay cooped up in this study for so long.” She was concerned for him; Ephraim was constantly hunched over this never-ending pile of paperwork. He needed to relax a little, and act more like his brother once in a while.

Ephraim spoke of the ball again, but this time spoke of the two of them. This thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. After being engaged to Ephraim for nearly seven years she only assumed that she would accompany him to the festivities tonight. She had been his left arm for every ball and public event since she was eighteen. And despite his breaking off the engagement, she knew that she would rather go with Ephraim than a suitable bachelor.

“You need not to be so formal, Ephraim.” She started simply, “I would gladly save you from your boredom, tonight.” Her bright blue eyes looked into his as a brilliant idea popped into her mind. With grace Giselle grabbed him arm and gestured him away from the study and into the hallway. “But first, I must save you from this boredom.”

Turning so that she was still facing him whilst leading him, she walked backward as she spoke, “I will have my lady-in-waiting finish your business with the ball. We, my dear, will avoid all work until tonight and go for a ride.”

Giselle was not entirely confident in her plan, but she felt like it was a necessary attempt. Riding horses was always a popular pass time with the nobles, and Giselle even found it exciting. She often times didn't get to ride without an escort of guards, but having Ephraim would surely substitute for that. If Ephraim were to protest, she would find some way, any way, to get him out of the castle and enjoying the day. After all, there was no better way to prepare for a ball than to have a relaxing morning beforehand.

Isabelle Marcot

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The princess waited patiently as she heard the movement behind her. She felt incredibly stupid as she waited there. What in heaven had she just agreed to. She scowled at herself for it. She was being an idiot, losing focus all because of what? Because some handsome man was simply nice to her? No, she was not about to let him get the best of her. She heard what she could only assume to have been an attempt at a reply to her question. She stood their waiting, her lips pursing slightly and her eyes glancing around the room without moving as she waited for any sign that the dress was being fastened around her.

What on Earth was taking him so long? It was a simple task, put the ribbon through the loops and pull it tightly, it didn't exactly take a genius to work it. She was almost glad that it was one that appeared to make him slightly uncomfortable or at least have some sort of effect on him. It was good, it meant she still had some footing here and the game was not all but lost.

“It's just a ribbon, your majesty not some sort of puzzle. I'm sure you can figure it out.” She told him, still not so much as turning to glance at him. Finally she heard a few footsteps against the floor behind her and felt the movement of the air at her back as the king presumably took the ribbon ends in his hands. She felt the dress begin to shift and pull itself towards the center of her back. She was familiar with the sensation it was one she experienced daily as her handmaiden would lace up the top of her gown for her.

“Well in that case, I'm sure I am not likely to disappoint you.” She replied. Soon enough she felt the dress press itself against her chest firmly and the back ribbon stop moving. She had absolutely no intention of being on any better behaviour simply because it was a king escorting her. If he ended up embarrassed or shamed by something that occurred it was hardly her fault. Especially since she had warned him. No, she was not about to hold her tongue nor would she be any less harsh to those who she deemed deserving of her wrath.

She had decided, being escorted by his majesty would have no affect on her evening. She was here with a purpose and his presence would not get in her way of that. She had absolutely no intention of going back home to her parents' lock and key anytime soon and this King of Effemane was not going to ruin that for her, no matter how nice he was.

She found herself about to tell him that it was fine and thank him but was cut off by a knock and the door to her temporary bedroom opening. “Your highness I- Oh! I'm sorry your highness, your majesty. Didn't mean to interrupt. Please excuse the intrusion.” And with that the young girl, presumably someone sent to help the princess get ready for the day and ensure that she was awake, scurried from the room closing the door quickly behind her.

Isabelle had a smile smile playing on her lips at the girl's reaction. She wasn't one hundred percent what had gotten the girl into such a tizzy. Perhaps it was simply fear of getting into trouble or reprimanded for her intrusion. Either way, Isabelle wasn't overly concerned with it. After all, it wasn't like the words of a chambermaid were anything that might have an affect on the opinion of her to anyone of nearly high enough standing for her to marry.

"Thank you." She remembered to add softly as she walked towards the large door. "I think it might be best for us to occupy ourselves elsewhere before we frighten any more of the staff here. " She said pulling open the door and stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door for King James to close behind himself. "Besides, " She called, glancing over her shoulder. I'm sure we seem quite anti-social up here and there are far better uses of our time downstairs."

Lyanna slowed her pace, which allowed Bliss to quickly catch up to her. She took a small step back when the knight turned sharply.

“Can we walk and talk? The Shahari Prince likely just disembarked from his boat and is riding to the palace as we speak. I need to be there to receive him.”

The handmaind had heard stories of the Shahari Prince, but she had never actually set eyes on him. If any of the rumors were true then this would prove to be a rather interesting time for the castle.

As the knight spoke, Bliss could not help but notice that there was not a shred of a stammer left in her speech. There before her stood, once more, the confident warrior of the battlefield. Whatever had befallen her in the dining hall had left no traces behind. Bliss wondered if she should still even ask about it. What if I misunderstood? She smiled cordially.


"But of course! I do not wish to interfere with your duties." With that said, she strolled along side Lyanna & together they made their way to the stables.

“Is something the matter?” Lyanna tilted a concerned gaze in the handmaid's direction. She had probably noticed the flush of pink in her cheeks that Elijah had elicited with his remarks.

"I was going to ask the same of you," Bliss replied. "Did you truly leave in such a hurry in order to recieve the Shahari Prince?" She made sure to keep her tone pleasant & curious so as to not sound accusatory & risk offending the girl. "It's just that...I thought you might be upset," she explained. "& I wanted to check on you."



"Ah. Pardon my forgetfulness, m'lord," Laurent said. In truth, he was a little embarassed by it. All that time spent devouring historical documents & he couldn't even remember the simple geneology of a neighboring royal family. Glad that education served for something, Laurent. Nonetheless, Malik's comment appealed to Laurent as he took great pride in his homeland & was always glad to hear positive statements about it from others.


He waited for the prince & his servant to get down before he did so himself. There on land a party awaited with horses, the best one (a beautiful, gold hued palfrey), of course, being reserved for Malik Falmari. Laurent mounted his own horse, a white rouncy named Hughe. Su'da was accomadated with a horse similar to Hugh, except a charcoal in color.

He noticed Su'da's scowl as he approached the horses.

"I assure you, they are gentle & well trained creatures." He said to them, thinking that perhaps they would be apprehensive to ride. This thought vanished however when he saw them skillfully mount the beasts & guide them forward. "Ah. Nothing such fine gentlemen as yourselves can't handle," he quickly added.

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Lyanna tried to think of a way to answer the question that would make sense without making her seem like an idiot. Deciding that there were none, she sighed, glancing askance at Bliss. “I did need to go meet him,” she answered truthfully, “but…” she trailed off, struggling to find the right words for the idea she wanted to express. The flagstones moved by underfoot, and a pair of servants opened the doors for them, letting them out into the eastern courtyard, which led out into the stables eventually.

The morning sun was warm on her face, and suddenly, nothing seemed so bad as it usually did, not even her ridiculous behavior. She preferred rainy days, but cool mornings like this were wonderful also. She tried to find pleasure in the simpler things since the complicated ones often eluded her like the trout in the streams back home had evaded her childish efforts to catch them with her hands. Oh, how her brothers had laughed at her then. Sometimes, she still missed living with her family, but… she was doing something honorable, and around people she genuinely liked. She had no room to complain, and so she didn’t.

“I can’t talk to people, Bliss. Well, not people I don’t know, anyway. I just… the secret things that people slip in between their words, the hidden jests and the implications… I don’t always see them. I just assume that everyone’s being serious unless the joke is in their tone, too. I can’t read people worth a… a fig.” She’d been about to say ‘damn,’ which would have been find around the men she commanded, but she wasn’t sure how Bliss would feel about it. Yet another way in which she failed to be delicate and subtle enough.

“I grew up a soldier, not a lady, and I spent all the time everyone else uses for etiquette and comportment lessons on the field, practicing harder. So… I can’t do the dancing with words.” She spun a wrist in a vague gesture for ‘dancing.’ It wasn’t an excuse, really: plenty of people managed to be good at both things. Just look at Ephraim, or the king of Effemagne. They were warriors and nobility, and excellent at both. Maybe a little too informal sometimes (King James particularly), but good all the same. “I’m not mad at anyone, just… frustrated. At myself, for always ending up in these situations where I don’t know what to say or how to be.” She always said too much or not enough, or was too sarcastic, the kind of rough humor the knights employed fully present, but she was unsubtle, direct, and that could be a problem.

“But I probably shouldn’t have said that. You’ve got enough to deal with on your own, right? Nobody here has it easy, I know that much.” It was true that she didn’t know what it was like to be a servant, though she did know how to serve, in her particular way.

They reached the stables then, though, and there wasn’t a whole lot more time before a small party of riders became visible on the horizon. At the head of the column came Laurent, Ephraim’s personal steward, and he was escorting a smaller group than shed expected: apparently just the Prince Malik and one other, a man of ebon skin and what seemed to be a shaven head. Lyanna had never been to Shahari, but she’d met a few people from there, so it wasn’t exactly unexpected. The fact that he seemed to be the only servant attending the prince was more unusual, but perhaps Malik preferred to travel with a minimum of fanfare.

Lyanna assumed a posture of parade rest, feet apart and hands clasped together behind her back, and waited until the party was fully arrived before addressing them. Sweeping into an elegant bow rather than a curtsy, she spoke. “Their Royal Highnesses Princes Ephraim and Elijah de Montefort of Merderva welcome you to their home.” Straightening, she assumed a pleasant expression, if not one that was a smile. “My name is Sir Lyanna du Lac, and this is Miss Bliss Barnard.” She indicated the young woman at her side. “Our stablehands will take care of your horses for you. If you would prefer to be taken to your rooms first, I can show you there directly. Otherwise, breakfast is currently ongoing in the Main Hall, and you are welcome to join.” This was definitely her business mode, and that much was evident from the efficient nature of her tones.

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“So formal!” Malik observed with humor, cocking his head to the side and grinning. “And ah, yes, I have heard of you. Not many lady knights in Merderva, no? So strange.” He shook his head good-naturedly. In Shahari, if you could and wanted to fight, you fought, regardless of whether you were male or female. But, alas, tradition. Mischief firmly intact in his eyes and tongue planted solidly in-cheek, he swept a bow over Lyanna’s hand and pressed a light kiss to the backs of her fingers.

Calluses, interesting. The title was not just for show. He flashed a wider grin when she turned scarlet, and repeated the gesture with Bliss. “And Miss Barnard. Enchanted, I assure you.” Despite his joviality, there was something genuine and facile in his demeanor, and he turned his attention to the two men with him.

“Well, we didn’t get a chance to eat aboard the ship this morning, so breakfast seems like a splendid idea. Lorri and Su’da here are of course free to do as they please.” He knew Su’da would follow him—he took his duties as manservant very seriously, sometimes too seriously. Malik found he couldn't hold it against him, though.

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Ephraim wasn’t sure it was entirely wise for him to skip out on work and go riding, but he’d been breaking his back over arrangements for Malik’s visit, tensions between Merderva and Brunswick-Lüneburg, and various other diplomatic matters. It seemed that his beloved kingdom was slowly headed for a perfect storm of trials, between the succession crisis, an almost-inevitable war, and all the visitors. One misstep on his part or Elijah’s could bring the entire realm crashing down around their ears.

It was easy to ignore the fact that he was a human being with a need for food and rest like all of them when such ponderous thoughts occupied him and he was still forced to deal with the mundanity of social events like the one tonight. But then… he was indeed just a man like the rest, and he’d be lying if he said he’d had any time to himself at all recently. Perhaps one day wouldn’t really hurt. It wasn’t like any of the problems that hovered over his head could be solved with the application of a few hours’ reading and trying not to tear his hair out.

Ephraim sighed through his nose. “All right, I’ll go riding. But not all day.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I really do have to see to some of these arrangements myself, I’m afraid.” He hoped it would be enough—he didn’t want to ruin her jovial mood, or his own relief, but there were simply too many things to be done. He should probably pay another visit to the barracks this afternoon, see how the latest round of recruits was coming along in training. If he was unlucky, he would need each and every one of them soon.

Shaking himself out of it, he managed to keep his thoughts mostly in the present as he was dragged along, more or less, by his childhood friend. “Forgive me for saying so, Giselle, but you’re ah… hardly dressed for riding. Perhaps a detour is on order?” He didn’t mind standing outside her door for a few minutes while she arranged something a little less… delicate for an outing, after all.

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Su’da had to admit to himself that the ride to the Capital was not so bad in the end. Granted it was not his home and was to cold by half but he could not help but admire the scenery and vast green landscape that they rode through. His own home, blistering hot at this time of year, could look like a desert if the rains did not come.

They passed at least one other village, their party receiving the bows of peasants who buried their faces in the dirt as the riders passed. Twice they over took marching columns of troops, a reminder that Medreva was at war, and the soldiers shuffled off the road at a bugle from the Kings Steward, glancing resentfully at the passing entourage.

Su’da was shocked at the quality of the soldiers he had time to flick his eyes over as they rode by. They were shabby, poorly armed, and looked down trodden. Once he dropped back to speak with a member of their Medrevan escort.

“You are at war?” He made it a simply question, it was always best if most people assumed he spoke only basic languages other than his own. The young knight looked surprised at the question and for a second Su’da thought he saw a flash of fear in the mans eyes.

“We are.” The Knight confirmed, speaking slowly as he gestured to the west where distant columns of smoke were barely visible. “The Kingdom of Brunswick-Lunebrg has taken the Western provinces.”

“But your King has party?” Su’da pressed the question, completely baffled that the event they rode to would take place with enemy armies trying to batter down the kingdoms gates.

“He has invited your Crown Prince, maybe to try and fortify his position, but he has also asked for peace with our enemies. They send the Iron Duke for talk. You understand?”

Su’da understood and he thanked the Knight before rejoining the Crown Prince. The Iron Duke, he was familiar with the title but not the man. Su’da had met several of his own people returned from mercenary work who had told them about the Duke of Brunswick. It was also rumoured that the Iron Duke retained two of Su’da’s own people in his household troops.

He pushed the matter further back into his mind as they rode into the Castle, Su’da noting with some surprise that their reception was little more than two women. One of them was a Lady Knight, but otherwise there was no one in sight and he felt the touch of a subtle insult that the Medrevans couldn’t do more than this for a man they hoped to make their ally.

He dismounted with the Crown Prince and observed the two women with an impassive face. His own years in the fighting pits made him an excellent judge of soldiers and he was impressed with what he saw in the Lady Knight. She would certainly be a challenge for the Crown Prince but Su’da knew that no amount of practice, nor armour, could substitute for years of experience. If had to kill the woman, he would do so.

The fine features of the two women were not lost on him though, nor on his master he noted as the Crown prince swept a short bow to kiss their hands. Su’da would do no such thing for he did not expect to be even noticed by them beyond a rude stare or two.

“Well, we didn’t get a chance to eat aboard the ship this morning, so breakfast seems like a splendid idea. Lorri and Su’da here are of course free to do as they please.”

The Crown Prince had spoken lightly enough, and he well knew that Su’da was not going to let him out of his sight, especially not in these new surroundings. He bowed his head slightly and spoke in their native tongue, his voice a deep, yet pleasant, rumble.

“Your servant shall stay to protect you, highness.”

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Three Days Ago - Western Borders of the Kingdom of Medreva

The grey walls of Raneis Castle glistened with the dew of the fresh morning, the clouds hugging the mountains that surrounded it so low that the higher towers of the fortress vanished into them, hiding the yellow and blue banners that hung limp in the dead air.

A clatter of chains broke the still morning, a trumpet challenged the sky, and the drawbridge dropped with a crash over the moat newly filled with rain water that poured from the mountains.

Then a thunder of hooves and the Duke of Brunswick rode forth. He was mounted on a great black charger and wore the fire-blackened armour that was his trademark. With him rode over one hundred of his household troops and at their head went his banner, a great square of blue cloth halved, blue with a golden crown on one side, red with a black armoured fist rising from the water and clutching a sword upon the other.

For the Medrevan soldiers who, up until a few months ago, had been siegeing the castle it was an impressive display and he galloped through their camp without sparing them a glance, his contempt for them clear.

He did return the salute of one Medrevan nobleman, gesturing for the man to ride with them as he continued east. The older man, his senior by twenty years, fell in to ride next to him.

“Off to do a bit of dancing, your Grace?” The Medrevan asked with a small grin.

“If by dance you mean tear the balls off your Prince, then yes.” He laughed. “It is not to late to join me and be on the winning side Baron.”

The older man smiled tiredly. “May I have leave to consider your offer until you return my lord?” He asked. Baron Travan Haverty had been charged with holding the Iron Duke at the Western Mountains and his army had crumbled, his fortresses had fallen and now he was but a shadow of his former self.

“Of course Baron, we are enjoying a ceasefire after all are we not?” The Duke spoke lightly but then he turned slightly in his saddle and locked his eyes on the Baron who shivered slightly at the gaze. “But when I return, if we do not have an accord, I will smash your army and put this country to the sword, so think carefully.”

The older man nodded and then curled his horse away from the Brunswick column. He could feel nothing but despair as he watched yellow and blue of Brunswick-Lunberg ride swiftly alongside the armoured fist of the Iron Duke.

He prayed for peace, if it failed, those same banners would ride his men into ruin.

Bliss patiently listened to Lyanna explain, glad to lend a sympathetic ear. She had not spent much time with the knight outside of the training grounds & their private archery lessons, as one could never convince Lyanna to stray away from her knightly duties, so this was all news to her. She never could have imagined the inner turmoil that the warrior felt in stuffy social situations.

It made sense though & Bliss did not know why she had not realized it earlier. Lyanna had to work extremely hard to prove herself to her male peers, so of course she would not have had the time (or the energy & desire) to learn how to be "ladylike". The handmaid found herself wondering how Lyanna ever managed to get through her younger years, especially so far from the support of her family...How difficult that must have been.

“I’m not mad at anyone, just… frustrated. At myself, for always ending up in these situations where I don’t know what to say or how to be.”

"You need only be yourself," Bliss loftily said. "If you give people the chance to see you, who knows? They might surprise you, Lyanna."

“But I probably shouldn’t have said that. You’ve got enough to deal with on your own, right? Nobody here has it easy, I know that much.”

"No one can known what it is like to be anyone other than themself." Bliss tried to sound casual, but as they drew closer to the stables there was a slight twinge of panic in her words. The handmaid kept an eye out for any unattended horse, lest one try to snatch up her hair or dress in its teeth.

Bliss saw a group of riders approaching in the distance, Ephraim's steward being the only one recognizable. Two, uniquely dressed men rode alongside of him. The larger one with a shaved head appeared to be, almost literally, armed to the teeth. These must be the visitors from Shahari. Her curiosity piqued & she felt a tingling wave of excitement as they drew closer. By the time the party had fully arrived, Bliss had a silly smily plastered to her face.

“Their Royal Highnesses Princes Ephraim and Elijah de Montefort of Merderva welcome you to their home. My name is Sir Lyanna du Lac, and this is Miss Bliss Barnard.” Bliss instinctively did a proper curtsy & bowed her head when Lynna introduced her. It was second nature by now.

As Lyanna continued with the formalities, Bliss studied the guests. Nosy as she was, she was always fascinated by anyone & anything that potentially offered a break from the droll normalcy of every day life. The Prince's pleasant appearance did not escape her attention either.

“So formal!” The prince grinned & Bliss found herself liking him already. He said something more, but she did not entirely listen since she was too busy delighting in the prodigious sight of a Prince kissing Lyanna's hand & consequently making the knight turn bright red. The smile dropped from her face, however, when the royal from Shahiri then repeated the process with her. Her cheeks burned pink. A prince greeting a handmaid in this way! She quickly glanced up at the royal's servant & raised her brows, as if to ask Is this normal?

Her hand dropped to her side & the Prince turned to address his riding party. A riding party which, Bliss noted, was unusually discreet.

“Well, we didn’t get a chance to eat aboard the ship this morning, so breakfast seems like a splendid idea. Lorri and Su’da here are of course free to do as they please.”



Laurent's brotherly worry kicked in when he observed the way in which Malik greeted Lyanna. He was not entirely certain why it bothered him so. She was, after all, a lady & it was not so unusual of a greeting with that considered. He was slightly relieved when he saw the gesture repeated with the handmaid, but not entirely. Laurent dismounted & several of the stablehands came forward to tend to their horses.

“Your servant shall stay to protect you, highness.” The older man said, cearly devoted.

"I will go to kitchen to ensure everything is to your liking, m'lord. Please let me know if you have any special requests, & I will happily oblige." A royal messenger had been dispatched ahead of them, so Prince Ephraim should be well aware by now that his guests had arrived.


"After the meal I must depart from you, however," he explained as they walked to the dining hall. With another guest on the way & the ball tonight, Laurent would have his hands full running errands & accomplishing whatever tasks Prince Ephraim had in store for him. "But you have the good fortune of having the honorable Lady Lyanna to escort you where you desire." He smiled at his friend as he spoke of her & then performed another flourishing bow before he excused himself.

In the kitchens he encountered Elijah's manservant, Dai, helping Horike prepare food. The man seemed to be genuinely pleased in doing so as well.

"Good morning, Dai," Laurent said. He eyed the hunk of meat that Horike & Dai were skillfully carving away at. "Lovely kill."

Although he & Dai did not particularly see eye to eye, Laurent always tried to keep his manners intact in spite of who he may be conversing with. "The guests from Shahiri are in the dining hall, if you wish to let Prince Elijah know where they are."

Laurent stopped one of the servants that were about to leave the kitchen with tray bearing pitchers of drinks. "If you see Bliss Barnard out there, tell her to stop sticking her nose in other people's business & go tend to the princess Giselle, as she should be." he growled. His good humor tended to falter at the thought of someone ignoring their responsibilities, although that wasn't the only reason her presence had bothered him. He knew by now how much the handmaid enjoyed stirring up gossip & scandal, & considering that Ephraim seemed to want to be tactful about his royal guests, the handmaid's presence should be a cause for concern. "I would have told her myself, but the royalty was present."

^

“Oh, tut tut.” Giselle said as she turned to lead the way face forward. She knew that he liked to be in control and that he did have a lot to take care of, but the difference of a couple of hours would make no difference in the scheme of life. But at least he was willing to step away from his stresses for one ride. Giselle could only do so much before Ephraim was worrying about yet another task.

She had not expected him to agree to spend the remainder of the day in play; his willingness to go out for just a ride was enough to satisfy the Ward. When Giselle turned around with a bit more excitement in her walk she let go of Ephraim. The expression on her face would never have led suspicion toward their separation. Giselle had the type of grin on her face that was rarely seen in the castle; this sort of smile was reserved for her secret outings. The smile was full of adventure, a touch of mischief, and composed of sheer bliss.

“I am willing to help you.” She said simply as they continued to walk. She knew that she was not of great political power, but she was more than capable of getting things ready for tonight’s ball. Honestly, she just wanted to help Ephraim in any way that she could. She could see the weight of the world in his eyes, and she sensed his once fun-loving personality turning bitter. She supposed that’s what happens to most every man of power. The world got the best of them, and before they knew it they were dying of a premature death.

“Forgive me for saying so, Giselle, but you’re ah… hardly dressed for riding. Perhaps a detour is in order?” Moving a strand of forgotten hair, Giselle nodded her head in agreement. “You’re right, sire.” Giselle then took a sharp turn toward her chambers. Only a few moments later they were at her bedroom door, “Forgive me, I will be only a moment.” She then gave Ephraim a crooked smile before opening her door and hastily preparing herself.

Undressing was a difficult task when Giselle was without a handmaiden. For a moment, as her hands were eagerly untying her laced back, she thought to ask for Ephraim’s help. But the levelheaded Ward stopped herself before doing so. It would be entirely inappropriate, especially now. Without thinking much more about it Giselle changed into an outfit that was better suited for riding.

Most women did not dare to wear pants, but Giselle had found them to be quite the convenience, especially when she was in town without the permission of the castle guard. Unsure if Ephraim had ever seen her in such clothing, Giselle entered the hallway with ease and confidence.

On top she wore a silvered toned shirt that was brought in by a small leather corset, a silver necklace with a pair of matching wristbands, and a draping green cloak. Her bottoms were simple, yet full of new world flare; she had on a pair of black pants and a pair of matching boots. Truly her outfit was one that a noble women, let alone a royal ward, would never been seen wearing. The only time when women were allowed to wear pants is when they were training in sword fighting.

“Are you ready?” She cooed while pulling her hair into a loose ponytail behind her.

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Two Days Ago - Western provinces, Kingdom of Medreva

The Duke took two quick steps and launched himself into space. His competitor followed suit and the two men struck the water some twenty feet below, both men reappearing on the surface and pulling hard as they raced across towards the small island some two hundred yards from shore. Once an officer, seeking favour with the Duke, had slowed himself to let the Duke win. The Duke repaid him by ordering his execution for he had no need of "bum licking swine".

On this day the young soldier he was racing beat him soundly and the Duke congratulated him heartily when he reached the island with the promise of a purse of gold when they returned to shore. He waved away the mans thanks before diving back into the water and swimming for the mainland where he could see his escort anxiously watching him.

It was their second day in the heart of enemy territory and he had ordered his men to make camp on the edge of a high bluff that afforded excellent protection from any enemy troops. He did not fear an attack, but one did not become the most powerful man in the west by being lazy or foolish.

As he drew closer he saw that a man clad in a white tunic with a blue sword driven into some sort of fruit awaited him, surrounded by heavily armed Brunswick soldiers. He stroked slowly towards them, eyes darting around the scene and at last deciding that the man had, in all likelihood, come alone, he could only wonder why.

His feet hit bottom and he stood, water cascading off his naked body that showed countless battle scars on nearly every inch of it. One in particular that ran from his right shoulder, down across his chest and stomach to end at his left hip. He moved with the grace of a panther as he moved up the beach, unashamed of his nudity, though he did accept a piece of linen to dry himself. The guard who had handed it to him spoke quietly so their visitor could not hear him.

"M'lord. This is Count Nilis Vaunbrun. He has come to surrender." The soldier couldn't resist an amused smile that was mirrored by the Duke. He thanked the soldier and then walked up the beach, wrapping the linen about his waist.

"My dear Count, would you still be interested in surrendering when you learn that I am only passing through on my way to negotiate with Crown Prince, whoever the hell he may be?"

The others eyes grew wide as the Duke approached and he shook his head violently. The Duke was not a tall man, perhaps nine inches over five feet, but his presence and the aura of command that he exuded terrified most men.

"My lord Duke, I only assumed that you were an invading force!"

The Duke looked around in amusement at the encampment and then laughed. "One hundred or so men to conquer Medreva, you do fill me with hope for the coming campaign season."

His laughter stopped abruptly and fury snapped into his eyes. "Bugger off my lord Count, if and when I return with my armies there will be no quarter for you and yours. I have no need of cowards. Get him out of here." These last words were to his men and two of them stepped forward, dragging the stunned Count away to his horse. They tossed him over the saddle and then slapped the beasts rump so that it startled and galloped out of the camp with the Count holding on for dear life.

"Break camp." The Duke ordered, and then to himself, "We have a victory to claim."

“I stand warned.” The King of Effemane said firmly. Oh yes, James had heard of Isabelle’s famous outbursts. He, like so many other young bachelors, was well aware of what the Princess Isabelle was capable of. Well, perhaps not well aware, but at least well informed. He had heard through rumor of the many things she had spit out at some of the most powerful men in the world. She was a handful that was for sure.

The idea of having such a feisty date was not embarrassing in the least. A sort of adventure and challenge came from it. Not challenge in thinking that he would train her to sit tight and proper, no, a challenge of her wits and his combined. Surely there was something good to come from the strong headedness of this Princess. James was sure of it. One day Isabelle’s fearless speech would pay off in the wildest of ways.

Just as James was about to suggest they venture downstairs a servant girl interrupted him. The young thing was shocked at the sight of them, and frankly a little rosy in the cheeks. Thinking that she had interrupted some divine royal affair, she could no longer form proper sentences. A slight laugh escaped James’ lips as the frazzled handmaiden left them to their peace. How silly people were in their assumptions.

His blue eyes followed her first to the door, then his body. She was right of course; a day was never spent well up in the chambers. On top of that the King was growing hungry. Stepping into the hallway he closed her bedroom door quietly before following after her.

“I’m afraid, dear Princess, while in your chambers we seem anything but anti-social.” His eyes flickered with mischief as his words suggested scandal. He was playing with her, trying to test out the waters before he would have to deal with her the entire evening. He was good at this game, you see, making sure that while he spoke the handmaiden that walked in on them heard.

This rumor would spread like wildfire, no doubt. His eyes flicked to the servant girl that was now filled so full of juicy gossip that she giggled as she turned the corner. James smiled to himself before he smoothed past the Princess.

“Oh… And there goes our secret.” James cooed sarcastically over Isabelle’s shoulder. Now the entirety of the Mederva castle staff would think that the King of Effemane and the Princess Isabelle were lovers. He knew that these words of false facts would not bother him, but he could not say the same for the dear Princess.

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Lyanna fought down her embarrassment. She was a knight of the realm, and a Captain at that, and this was what had been asked of her by her sworn liege. She could not and would not let Ephraim down, not when she knew just how hard he was working himself every day in an attempt to deal with the plenitude of issues facing the kingdom. The least she could do was man up (or, unfortunately in this case, woman up), and get these people to where they needed to go.

“I apologize for the lack of a welcoming party,” she said, sticking to her formal script so as not to find herself as thrown out as she had been that morning. “But their Highnesses both have pressing matters to attend to, and will gladly pay more formal and decorous welcome to you at tonight’s festivities.” The primary reason for this party was the Crown Prince’s arrival: Merderva would need the favor of Shahari if they hoped to hold out against Brunswick-Lunberg. Ephraim’s uncle, the previous king, had not been a warlike man by any means, and the army he’d left his sons was basically a shambles. The training regimens for foot soldiers had been a joke, and funding for armament was running dry faster than Ephraim, Elijah, or any of their stewards could find money to replace it.

Merderva’s sole military advantages lay in two things: the small, but elite corps of knights that it had long trained and maintained as a sterling tradition even the previous king could not lead to ruin, and Ephraim himself. He, as she, was a lifelong soldier, but he was also an excellent tactician, and there were those that speculated that the only reason Brunswick-Lunberg hadn’t overridden Merderva entirely was his ability to do a lot with a little. She’d seen the situation firsthand, and couldn’t help but agree. Two thousand of the world’s finest knights did not an army make, and their slipshod foot-soldiers were only just now beginning to receive training up to her liege’s standards.

It was, in other words, a complete disaster. But they couldn’t afford to let this show to potential allies, hence the frivolity of this evening’s festivities. They had to impress and court (figuratively speaking) Prince Malik, and they needed to do so as quickly as possible. Only then would an alliance with Shahari give them serious leverage at the bargaining table with Brunswick-Lunberg, who relied just as heavily on that country’s shipping and the graces of the Sea-Queen as anyone else. It was enough to give Lyanna a headache.

Fortunately, they reached the dining room thereafter, and Lyanna bowed the Prince’s entourage inside, gesturing to the central table, at which nobody currently set head. Elijah had left, then. Probably for the best—it would be awfully awkward for the succession crisis to look so obvious. At formal dinners, that chair was thus far left unoccupied.

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Malik, a man much sharper than he seemed, was aware of a great deal of Merderva’s current woes, and could easily forgive the absence of a member of the royal family from his welcome. He was interested to see if these princes could pull off this little balancing act of theirs. From what he understood, the older one, Ephraim, had the might of the military behind him, but that was a rapidly-dwindling comfort. The younger, Elijah, had the favor of more of Merderva’s powerful noble houses.

As if to make it all that much more complicated, it seemed like one representative from every royal family under the Goddess’s bright sun was here, and none of them could be refused if they wanted to come. Merderva couldn’t stand to lose an alliance with offense, not now. And those alliances needed to get stronger, more official, if they had any hope of taking back their western provinces.

Finding his way easily to a seat at the right of the head of the table, Malik piled his plate with food, apparently entirely unaware of the tenseness of the situation around him. But it was everywhere—even the servants had a certain stiff set to their shoulders, as though of a mind to tough through it and endure, come what may. It was actually a little impressive for a place in such dire straights, and perhaps the spirit of this nation would not break as easily as its arms. Cold comfort, but interesting. The lovely Lady du Lac took up a standing post behind him, and he inferred that she was to be his guide for as long as he wanted one, which would suit him just fine.

The dining room was mostly empty at this point, but Malik was entirely unconcerned by this. He considered using his wit to interrogate Lyanna for a while, but decided against it, instead gesturing for Su’da to take whatever refreshment he wanted. Malik wasn’t one for much formality, and was perfectly fine with his manservant eating at the same table as himself. It was kind of pointless for him to occupy a spot so far away they couldn’t converse, anyway.

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“And you said I was too formal,” Ephraim chided, shaking his head at her use of the word ‘Sire.’ He put up with it when necessity demanded, but it wasn’t his preference. He’d always preferred to exhibit the common touch when possible, perhaps because the first portion of his life he’d spent in much less high a station. He waited politely outside her room, arms crossed over the broad expanse of his chest, back pressed against the stone wall, and closed his eyes for a moment.

His worries threatened, as they always did, but he could hold them off just a little longer. She reappeared a few minutes later, hardly recognizable as someone of her status, but then he looked more like an ordinary soldier than a prince every day, so it was certainly not his prerogative to judge. He nodded once, rolling his eyes a little. “Not really, but it seems I have little choice. My friend is quite insistent, and she tends to get her way. I can hardly object.”

The journey to the stables passed in comfortable silence, and he thought to seek out Celeste, the stablehand usually on duty at this time, but she didn’t seem to be around. A boy, no more than twelve or so, hurried to prepare their horses instead. Ephraim’s personal mount was a sturdy warhorse, a beast fire-tempered and strong enough to carry him in full plate and then some. She was black from head to toe, with the kind of intelligent glimmer in her eyes that indicated to the knowledgeable that she’d originally been bred in Effemagne. His last name-day present from King James, as it happened. Perhaps appropriately, she’d been named Sable, and he hadn’t seen fit to change it.

Swinging astride, he cast a glance at Giselle, just then mounting her own horse. “What say you? The forest, perhaps?”

Isabelle Marcot

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Isabelle turned her head to glance over her shoulder at the king. She felt her lips curve up into a smile at his comment before lifting a single finger, her right forefinger in this case, up to her lips in a shushing fashion, a small smile still on her lips though. She barely suppressed a giggle as she glanced back over her shoulder again to the poor girl who was trying to walk as fast as she could down the hallway without running in order to distance herself.

After the girl quickly turned around the corner with what appeared to be a small smile of her own. Isabelle had a feeling that the rumour of what the girl had seen, and likely both various versions of it as well as people's own theories would spread quickly amongst the palace, and she had a feeling it probably would spread so quickly that it might even make it up a little higher than just the staff before it died down.

She frowned slightly, though not because of the undoubted and inevitable rumours but instead about the fact that King James had made his way ahead of her. She knew that it would have been proper to allow the king to lead their path however Isabelle was not one to blindly follow. She certainly was not about to blindly follow a man simply because he was a man and had a fancy title. But then again, it also wasn't in her personality to follow anyone, she didn't care who they were.

“I assume that it is. However, on the brighter side of things this could prove to be quite entertaining. After all, you saw how she reacted from our just standing there, I doubt that anyone else who hears of our scandalous escapades will be able to hide their reactions.” She said quietly to him as she quickened her pace a little in order to catch up to his majesty and match her pace to his.

“I actually wonder how far our little secret will have gotten by the time we make it down there. I suspect she hasn't managed to keep it to herself even just this long.” She gave the king a small smile before slipping past him and nearly skipping around the corner and down the stairs towards the dining hall to get some food in her stomach before proceeding with her day. She knew it was a good idea to pick up some sort of breakfast first. Firstly because she knew a large portion of staff would be there and several would be coming and going and it was doubtless that their rumour would probably make it there first. Secondly, it was because she knew she probably wouldn't eat until that night and she hardly enjoyed entertaining with an empty stomach, especially since she was hardly pleasant to strangers while well fed.

The blonde did a small twirl as she moved down the hallway, pausing at the bottom of the stair against the wall to wait for the king to make his way down the stairs. "Come along dear, wouldn't want to miss our debut." She sang, softly enough that her voice wouldn't carry much further than the top of the stairs or end of the hallway. She found it quite amusing that the handmaiden from before wasn't anywhere to be seen, she must have ran down the hallway the second she turned the corner. Isabelle nearly chuckled to herself at the thought.

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If his lord saw hope in the bearing of the castle staff, Su’da saw something much different. He was older, perhaps wiser, but his age did give him experience in reading the moods of men. What he read here did not fill him with confidence in their proposed allies.

It was true that all of his combat experience came from the fighting pits and he had never stood in a true battle line, but neither had his liege. The reason Sharai produced so many excellent individual warriors was their lack of any serious enemies to threaten their homeland. True, they waged war on the seas from time to time but he was not foolish enough to think that warfare on the high seas was anything like warfare on dry land where trees, even a hill, could hide an entire army. At sea, battle was fluid, quick, with on tricks, but on land, well, it took a different kind of man to wage that kind of war.

Before coming to Medreva he had joined his master in learning all that they could about the distant Kingdom. The reports of the war that was being waged were scarce but it was plainly obvious that the Medrevans had been caught totally unprepared by their enemies. What surprised him most was that there appeared to be no actual cause for war, anywhere, almost as if the war had begun by some accident or trick of the gods.

His mind was still mauling this over as they entered the grand dining hall. It was an impressive space and he could see how it might look wondrous indeed when filled with people and music but today, with only a few people at the long tables, it spoke volumes about the troubles of the Kingdom.

The Crown Prince sat, the lady knight taking up a stance behind him. Su’da moved quickly to stand behind the Crown Prince, facing outwards towards the Lady Knight. He would not sit at this strange table and have both of them with their backs exposed.

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One Day Ago – Western Provinces, Kingdom of Medreva

“There she is…” The Duke spoke quietly as he shielded his eyes from the sun with an armoured hand. In the distance, barely visible amid the haze that promised a hot day, the bulk of Medreva rose into the sky, topped by its formidable looking castle.

“Going to be a brute to siege m’lord.” The Knight who sat easily in his saddle next to the Duke commented, absently slapping at a horsefly that had settled on his leg.

The Duke grunted his agreement then lowered his hand, looking about him at the wealthy towns and lush fields that stretched away from his position on the crest of a high hill. From here the dirt track lazily wound its way down into the river valley, several stone bridges with mills turning slowly above them making for a tranquil scene. There was wealth here and he, like all soldiers, knew that if there was no other reason for fighting wealth would certainly do.

“If they were as good at soldiering as they are at farming we might not have made it this far this fast.” The Duke said aloud, his companion nodding in agreement. “As for that Castle, we’ve both learned that the Medrevans are rather unimaginative defenders though the bastard Prince is rumoured to be a tougher nut to crack.”

The Duke had many qualities but none greater than his ability to remember virtually everything he saw, heard or read. Over the past year he had read much on the leaders of Medreva, their strengths and weaknesses and in a Kingdom so divided over succession he found many a willing nobleman who would tell all in exchange for a purse of desperately needed gold. Medreva was rift with spies, many of them his own, others split between the two Royal Princes and he was sure that surrounding Kingdoms had their fair share as well.

The two horsemen sat in silence for some time until, as the mysterious letter had promised, a small group of horsemen rode from a barn below and up the road towards them. They wore no marks on their shields or armour and their leader wore a close faced helmet despite the rising heat of the day.

When they were within fifty yards the faceless leader curtly ordered his men to stay and then rode on alone. The Duke kicked his own horse forward to meet him and the two riders came together in a little swirl of dust.

“The Iron Duke.” Said the faceless man as he reined to a halt. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“And I have heard much of you, Count Von Trasel, from your younger brother, nothing good of course.” The Duke replied, a wiry smile crossing his face.

“Of that I have no doubt.” Said the other as he pulled the helmet from his head, revealing short cropped black hair and a nose hooked like the beak of some bird of prey. Two piercing green eyes regarded the Duke from beneath a pair of equally black eyebrows. Von Trasel knew of the Iron Duke, few people didn’t, but sitting on his horse, quiet and contained, it was hard to imagine the fury and terror that he had unleashed upon Medreva. Many might guess at the Dukes nature but the Count, who had known him since they were lads, guessed that his childhood friend would have only grown more intense as the years passed.

“Your note suggested you might have a solution to our mutual… Problem.” The Duke said, interrupting the Counts train of thought.

The other nodded and smiled. “Still straight to the point I see. Very well, yes, I have a suggestion.” He pulled a roll parchment from under his chest piece and held it up. “Myself, along with a number of other Nobles, feel that we might come to an accord. We all wish to see the true heir, Prince Elijah, on the throne. Since most of the western territories belong to supporters of the bastard we suggest surrendering those to you in exchange for you promise not to interfere, or continue your campaign, when we depose of the bastard.”

The Duke raised his eyebrows slightly. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events and he held out his hand for the parchment. “You are aware that I ride to negotiate a ceasefire, and possibly an end to the war.”

“Which we both know you have won,” Said the other man bitterly as he handed the paper over. “You negotiate from a position of total strength. Let me salvage what remains of our nation.”

“With you as the Kings most trusted advisor I am sure,” Said the Duke with a hint of sarcasm. The thin smile on the other man’s face told him he was not wrong. “I will consider it. That is the best I will give you under the circumstances.”

The Count nodded and pulled his helmet back on, faceless once again. He regarded the Duke for a long moment through the helmets eye slits and then shook his head sadly. “I regret we ever became enemies Karl, I really do.”

A sardonic smile played across the Dukes lips as he replied, “Join me for dinner tomorrow night then and, for a night, let us be friends once again.”

The Count gave a curt nod and was gone in a spurt of dust and gravel. The Duke of Brunswick watched him go before riding slowly back up the hill towards his waiting men.

Many more friends would lie buried in the earth before this war was over.

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Celeste had woken up in the morning, early morning, as per usual. Her mother and her normally had to be up for most of the day anyways. She got dressed into her simplistic clothing and slipped her shoes on. The morning sun was just starting to rise as she had gotten up and she was walking along the grounds, that were oh so familiar to her. She was used to seeing them all the time, she had grown up here with her mother, and she was a valued member of helping out with the stables with visitors and people going out and coming in. She also had to care for the horses. She could feel a light breeze flow past her as she continued on to the stables.

Soon she had made it to the stables and she saw the same wooden stables, and the familiar smell of horses flooded in and she smiled, she loved being close to the horses. She began to change their hay, so it was clean and fresh. She normally did this on a regular basis and eventually she finished with that, and she hand fed each horses and gave them love and attention, they needed to be cared for and she was exactly the person to do it, her mother had indeed taught her little things to keep the horses happy. Celeste went up to her favourite horse, which was a black beauty and she had the brush and she began to brush the horse's mane and soon the horse nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck tickling her and making her laugh.

After a few hours, her mother came in and over looked her work, and soon began taking each horse out to get the exercise they needed to keep them well prepared for anything that they needed. Her mother had eventually came inside though and the two of them began to talk back and forth, exchanging pleasant conversation between each other. Soon she was told about having the project of running the stables at the manor where the Duke had been staying, she was so thrilled to hear it but she had to keep her composure, considering that she had an image to maintain but she was just so happy to hear that she'd get to do that, she was being trusted with something big and she was smiling brightly. She hugged her mother tightly and then was later told the details, and she'd have to leave soon.

Celeste was so relieved, she not only got something to help her out in future business but she got to see a new area and she got to possibly be near a Duke. Celeste smiled, all those dreams and foolishness that her brain had once been filled with came rushing back in and she sighed. She would at least get to meet a Duke, she already knew that the Duke was probably going after another royalty or something anyways, and she was just a stable-hand anyways, not like that meant too much. She was excited either way though.

When it came time for her to leave, she led the black beauty out of the stall that it was in, She had previously strapped on the saddle and she had put the reins on the horse already and packed a few things, considering she had to run the stables there, she'd be staying over there for a little bit and she smiled, "It's so exciting!" She exclaimed to the horse with a bright smile on her face. Soon enough Celeste had gotten up on the saddle and sat sideways, wasn't proper to sit with a leg on either side whilst wearing a dress. Celeste was soon on her way to the manor where the Duke was and all the people who were staying there, more importantly the horses.

Once she was there and up at the gate she told the guys at the gate who she was and what her purpose was, and from hearing of her coming beforehand they let her in, and she was directed to where the stables were. Celeste soon found them and smiled, she loved horses, and they were always a comforting sight. Celeste got off the horse and led her into the stables and found an empty stall and put the horse there, and looked around and took a deep breath in and smiled.

Laughter came from Giselle as Ephraim commented. Yes, she was a very insistent woman but what would the world do without women like her. Through persuasion and constant nagging women were able to change their husbands and leaders minds. Being so involved was not lady-like, but Giselle was incapable of being submissive. She would seek advise in times of trouble but she would never give up her ability to act. As one might be able to tell, Giselle did not like being bossed around. Inside of her was a independent spirit; a woman free of social expectations.

“I would have it no other way.” She said coolly, referring to her getting her way. Another smile played on her lips as she obediently walked beside Ephraim. Their footsteps echoed in the hallways of the castle as they made their way toward the stables. Giselle saw few servants as they walked in silence; the emptiness of the hallways was both worrying and relaxing. It made the walk more personal but had the Ward wondering. Perhaps they were all preparing for the ball, or serving their guests.

Before Giselle had time to come to a conclusion they were in the stables. As Ephraim was mounting his horse the young servant boy was working on her horse. She thanked the before whipping her hair to one side and mounting her own horse. Giselle’s horse, Wen, was quite similar to Ephraim’s, dark in color and daringly quick. Unlike most of the noble women of Mederva, Giselle rode her horse often and had a true bond with Wen. They had been on several outings, including a couple of evening escapes.

Nodding her head in agreement Giselle responded, “If only you take me to the waterfall.” Her tone was playful with a wisp of sentiment. Ephraim would know of which waterfall she spoke. Not the grand waterfall near the Eastern Provinces but a simple waterfall close to the Western Provinces. This particular waterfall was nothing impressive but it was spot that the two would often ride to when they were children. The king had a set border within his land where the children were allowed to ride together, but this waterfall was outside of it. It was their dirty little secret as children. Even till this day the king never knew of their riding outside of his allotted territory.

Without another word Giselle clicked her tongue at her horse and began riding toward the forest. At first she was a decent speed, nothing that the Prince couldn't handle. His eyes flicked with mischief as she pushed her speed, seeing if Ephraim would race.

“Just standing there?” The king piped in, “I was obviously lacing up your dress after an intimate night together.” His tone was sarcastic and his eyes were filled with amusement. That was surely what the little maid had seen. Without even thinking the little lady assumed that the royal bloods were developing a scandal. The thought made him chuckle. The staff was always throwing together wild theories and tall tales of those of a higher status, like they’ve nothing better to do.

The King walked at a steady pace, in a happy and confident swagger. His step was so bright that he could have been mistaken for a little skip here and there. Having always been a Crowned Prince and now the King, James was used to having the quicker step. It was a custom in Effemane that the King be ever so slightly ahead of those he was conversing with. It was both symbolic and action of respect. Symbolic in the way that the King was always to lead his follows, and respectful in the sense that his men did not upstage him. Though not entirely keen on the idea, James had developed the habit.

Suddenly, Isabelle was all the chatter, which both puzzled James and amused him. She seemed rather reserved and cold in her chambers but now she was jovial and warm. “Oh I’m sure the kitchen will flutter with talk when we arrive together.” James responded. There was no doubt in his mind that that handmaiden had flown like the wind to the first servant she could find. After that it’s history, one after another until the entire Medervan staff was enlightened. Rest assured that Isabelle’s chambers will be well watched and hesitantly entered now.

With a quicken step and a little bit of a skip the Princess Isabelle had passed him. In instinct James picked up his footing and followed close behind her, almost with the feeling of a race. Just a couple steps behind her he listened to her voice chirp. James rolled his eyes as he met her at the bottom. “Pet names?” He noted, continuing on the path toward food. His hand pressed gently against her back as they grew close to the dining hall. “I like it,” He said before adding in a sarcastic “my love.”

In hopes to continue their suspicious behavior and blazing rumor James spoke at a hearty volume. Anyone who was in the hallway would be able to hear his words. James laughed as he thought of yet another maid overhearing them. Oh what fun it would be to fool all of these servants. Then, with some luck, their rumor might hit the nobles. Only then would James have to call to his cousins to explain. Though he wasn't entirely sure that they would care. Ephraim had his hands full with his duties and Giselle and Elijah was... Elijah. He had no real intention of marrying soon. That man wanted nothing more than to have his fair share of women.

Thinking of his dear cousin, James made a mental note to go and seek him out. It wasn't like Elijah to be far from the social event of the morning. After a brief moment James entered the dining hall and quickly came to realize that Prince Malik was sitting at the dining table. He and Malik had spent some time together when James still Prince and seeing an old friend was enough to make the man grin.

"My dear friend!!" James called as he went over and clapped the shoulder of the Prince of Shahari.

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He noted the lady knight take a few respectful steps backwards when Su’da took up a defensive position behind him, though honestly, Malik could have sighed. It would be the height of folly for these people to attempt to assassinate him, and he knew the knightly sorts weren’t the kind to bother with something like that. If this Lyanna had any intention of slaying him, she would have challenged him to open-field combat in that quaint little way Merdervans had. As if honor had a place in matters of life and death. Malik had his own code, but it was strange and obscure to most, and it did not treat in too many of the chivalric principles as such.

Honestly, he rather wished his manservant would just eat, but he wasn’t going to demand that—he’d have food sent up later, perhaps, when he settled into his chambers. Until then, he supposed it would be like this. The absence of company was honestly a bit dreary, at least until two new people entered the room.

He recognized both on sight, though he’d only ever met one of them. He’d heard a little rumor that King James of Effemagne was present, but he hadn’t expected to run into him so soon. “Ah, James! It looks like being king agrees with you!” Malik grinned and reached up to slap the man across the back in a friendly gesture. James was a fellow who knew how to have a little fun now and then, something that was doubtless sorely needed in such a chill place as this.

The lady with him was also recognizable. Princess Isabelle Marcot, preceded by her reputation for manipulation and wiles. He glanced back and forth between the two and raised an eyebrow, his smile growing fractionally larger across his face as his eyes glittered with mirth. “And her Highness Isabelle. My, my, it seems that Merderva really is playing host to half the world’s royalty. I do wonder what has possessed you all to come to this little mixer of the high-and-mighty, but of course, I shall not pry.” His tone remained light, jocular, but there was a keen edge to it, as though he didn’t really need to ask to understand. And who did? A castle this big—the number of spies was simply outrageous. It always would be; there was simply no avoiding it. He would never deny having a few well-placed ones of his own, for why should he need to deny that? It was a practice that everyone knew about, and almost everyone used. He revealed some things so that what was kept hidden remained so.

Better to tell a small secret, so that people never went looking for the big one.

“Please, both of you, do join me. I simply must share a meal with such illustrious company.” Malik gestured widely, as if to encompass the otherwise empty table and all the freshened food that sat upon it. If none of the Merdervan royals was interested in holding court over breakfast, he certainly wouldn’t balk at the chance. Not when it was bound to be so much fun.

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Ephraim debated the merits of this for a moment, but the waterfall was far enough away from the border of the Western Provinces that it would not be an issue. Not with the armies still caped where they were. So it was with a subtle nod that he agreed, picking up the pace until Sable matched Wen in stride, a stride which increased until both were galloping rather rapidly over the terrain. He didn’t travel too far ahead, of course—the simple fact of the matter was that a horse bred for war could last longer than one for leisure, but he chose to remain at his friend’s side, his own inborn sense of caution demanding it.

They had not quite yet reached the waterfall when Ephraim spotted something curious in the distance. A rider, from the look of it, pushing his horse far beyond the bounds of safe pace. The animal, as it drew closer, was obviously in a lather, a dangerous state if they had much further to go. The workmanlike quality of the armor and it plainness indicated a sword rider of some kind, and not a member of the nobility, but that did not invalidate the importance of what the person was doing.

“Hold here,” he told Giselle, his station settling over him like a shroud. That was the voice of Ephraim the General, not Ephraim the childhood friend, and he spurred Sable to intercept the rider, holding up a hand to call a halt to the man’s forward progress. “Hold, in the name of Merderva,” he said formally, drawing up when the other did.

“Gods save Merderva,” the man replied, his voice leaden with weight of weariness. “I bring a message for their Highnesses. Please, it is most urgent.” As if for proof, the man fished a folded parchment out of his cloak somewhere.

Ephraim blinked. “That is a title that I hold,” he said mildly, and the messenger did a double-take, scrutinizing him for a moment before he dipped his head in embarrassment. It was the color of his eyes that made him recognizable, he knew, for he did not wear the more ostentatious regalia he was allowed.

“B-begging your pardon, Highness,” the man stammered, reminding him faintly of Lyanna, who was like as not having a rough time of it trying to keep up with the boundless energy and verve of the Shahari prince. Replacing the parchment, he pulled out another, and a light of amusement crept into Ephraim’s eyes. It was good to know he wouldn’t actually brandish a missive for Royal eyes only to just anyone.

The second paper, he took, reading over the words and resisting the urge to curse under his breath. “All right,” he said calmly, handing the paper back. “Carry this same message to my brother Elijah, and let no one else see it, do you understand?” The man nodded, tucking the message away again, and Ephraim dismissed him. Lashing his horse with his reins, the messenger took up a full-tilt gallop again, making a beeline for the palace. Ephraim returned to Giselle, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and the guilt was obviously genuine, “but I must return. I have to make arrangements to house the Iron Duke and his party. It seems my request to treat for peace is to be answered in person, long before I had anticipated.” Perhaps the worthiest of all the things he could be doing with his time, but one he dreaded. The lord he was to treat with was not known for his mercy, and it would take more than a few parties and a pleasant stay in Merderva to forge a treaty between these two nations. Ephraim was going into this at a steep disadvantage, and just for one small moment, he cursed the legacy of his uncle for that. But it was no good berating a dead man for his lack of foresight, and he had too much to do to waste any time in so unworthy a fashion.

“We must head back. I’ll have to host him at one of the manses—we’re running out of room in the royal wing.” He would inform the stablemistress to send whomever she trusted the most to supervise that part of it, and the same for the kitchenmaster, the head maid, and several other people. They were going to have to split castle staff to augment the capabilities of the manse. Perhaps he would have to send Laurent as well, to manage everything else. It was going to be a delicate balancing act, but by the time Duke Hastenback arrived, they would be ready.

They would have to be.

Isabelle Marcot

---

Isabelle paused at his comment her face betraying her confusion momentarily at the sound of his comment. She hadn't entirely realized what she'd said and the implications it might have held. She broke into a small smile at James' added notion. She could tell that he had his voice at a much greater volume than necessary in hopes of it being heard by anyone within earshot, she was after all at his side and neither deaf or incredibly old.

She didn't mind though, what difference would it really make to her if the maids and whatnot talked. It wasn't like any of that really mattered. The only time it might become an issue if if it somehow made it's way up to their royal highnesses and keepers of this house. Though from what she had heard of the younger prince's escapades they were in no place to become angered at such a matter. Besides, if that did come about she was sure she could explain the simple misunderstanding and it wouldn't prove to be much of a problem. So for now, it was just fun; a little game of sorts.

Isabelle found herself coming to a halt once they were through the doorway into the dining hall of the Mederva Palace. The hand on her back had been applying -a soft amount of- pressure as they walked and James moved himself along at her side so when he came to a halt the hand was almost invisible at her back causing her to almost instinctively stop along with it. Though she was almost glad to have the hand gone, it had been tolerable, though not entirely comfortable; at least by her part anyway, but then again she also wasn't used to being touched outside of a hand on her arm.

"My dear friend!" Ah that explained it. He knew the man seated at the table, and obviously quite well from the way they spoke to one another. The other had even referred to the king as simply James. Isabelle knew quite well that in their sort of circle first names were reserved for close friends and family. The only people to whom she was ever just Isabelle were her parents. To everyone else she was 'your highness' or 'princess' or something of that sort.

"My apologies, your highness. I do not believe I have had the honour yet, and my companion is apparently both terribly rude and impossible at introductions." She chided in James' direction. She assumed he could only have been the esteemed Prince of Shahari whom she had overheard had arrived but had yet to actually meet the man. "In lieu of that however, I would be delighted to join you. The chance of such a meal is one I cannot pass up." She found herself sliding into a chair near the prince.

She soon found herself graced with a plate of fruits and a small bowl of oatmeal. She picked through the fruit with her fork before settling on a raspberry and piercing it with the fork and lifting it gingerly to eat it. She did not fill the gap of silence that breached the air though. She much preferred to just listen during the beginnings of most conversations. It was always best to go into one knowing to whom you are speaking before actually speaking. And though she had a potentially deadly tongue, often what could be even worse was her sheer silence.

After Laurent chastised her by means of a kitchen servant, Bliss reluctantly departed from the guests. She had hoped to stick around long enough to hear an interesting tale or two but she did have her chores to tend to. Disappointed, she walked up the stairs & towards the bedchambers.

Coming down the hallway, in a flustered state, was one of the fellow servants that had been assigned to Princess Isabelle as a handmaid. Bliss, who was acquainted with the girl, Kaylee, as she had given her a tour of the castle when she first arrived, inquired as to what was the matter.

"Nothing," responded the girl, although her eyes nervously glanced every which way. Anyone would know that she was lying, & Bliss was no exception.

"If this is the way you act when nothing is the matter, Kaylee, I would hate to see you when something is."

The girl turned pink & shook her head. "No-nothing is the matter, Bliss. I...I merely may have seen something I...I maybe should not have?"

"Such is the life of a servant," Bliss replied. "Now...What did you see?"

Kaylee once again scanned the vicinity &, finding it safe, leaned in to whisper to Bliss. "I went to help my mistress get dressed & prepare for breakfast, only to find King James was already doing so!"

Bliss could not help but to laugh, suddenly understanding why Kaylee had seemed so flustered. What a scene to walk into. Poor girl! "Did they see you?" Bliss asked.

"Yes," Kaylee said, clearly embarassed. "I- I knocked before I entered, I swear it! But I suppose I didn't...give them enough time?"

She laughed again. "Is that what you were worried about? Don't fret, Kaylee! You did nothing wrong."

Kaylee still seemed uncertain. She let out a sigh & gave Bliss a cagey look. "Well, I had better be off. There is much to do before tonight."

"Yes, much," Bliss agreed. "I have tasks that need attending to as well. Good day, Kaylee..." Before she continued on her way to Giselle's bedchamber, she mischieviously added, "Be wary of any any closed doors."

Once inside of Giselle's bedroom, she began gathering the bedsheets & any discarded clothes. Bliss took the articles out to the laundress & traded them for freshly washed linens which she took back up to the room. After she arranged the bed properly once more, the clothier arrived with Giselle's gown. They seemed keen on hearing Giselle's opinion of it before leaving, but Bliss explained that the Princess was currently occupied, but to rest assured that the lovely dress would most certainly meet with the Princess's approval.

The handmaid carefully laid the gown out on the bed (along with a more subtle dress for the afternoon) & busied herself in getting together accessories that she thought Princess Giselle would enjoy wearing that night & tidying up the rest of the room.

The ride that Giselle had hoped would calm Ephraim’s worries was intercepted with the most bothersome annoyance. A rider was seen in the distance with the most urgency in his speed. Though his speed would have done well in a race, his expression was far from a winners face.

”Hold here,” Were the first words out of Ephraim’s mouth. Giselle knew that tone; he quickly turned from a friendly prince to the army general. Her light colored eyes watched him carefully as he lifted his hand to halt the rider. Nervous thoughts boiled in her stomach as she kept her focus on the two. There were a number of dangerous people in the woods. There were bandits, terrorists and a collection of other angry people who would be willing to kill Ephraim. Given the chance, many of the nobles would even dabble in the business of assignation to take Ephraim out.

Knowing these threats Giselle was always cautious. Of course there was nothing that Ephraim couldn’t handle, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in danger. Her engagement to him put her in some kinds of danger as well. After all if the prince couldn’t marry a woman who was dead. Not that it mattered much now, but she was sure that most of the kingdom did not know of the engagements cancelation.

Giselle was a bit far off from the two of them. She heard bits and pieces of their conversation. She hadn’t gotten a clear message of what was happening, but she could tell by Ephraim’s body language that it was something that needed to be addressed immediately.

The young man rode off at the same speed he arrived at the command of the prince. Ephraim explained to her the simple issues that they were now facing. Giselle nodded her head courtly, “I understand.” She said officially. Of course she would understand. There always came a time where the kingdom was more important than others, and even more important than himself. Giselle honestly believed that Ephraim would die in the name of Mederva. As for herself, she wasn’t quite sure yet.

“Let’s be off then.” Giselle said. And with that, Giselle started toward the kingdom at a steady speed. Just as Wen was getting into a comfortable pace the horse was startled. A figure, although petite, came from out of the bushes in a desperate attempt to stop the two. Wen stood on her two back legs in fear as Giselle struggled to stay on. The Ward almost fell from her saddle as the horse settled back onto all fours.

A little a fright herself Giselle did not yell at the stranger nor seek to confront them. A little perplexed she just listened to them.

---

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Sophia Van Alstine did not look like the woman that she was raised to become. A noble woman would never have been seen sleeping on the streets, hiding her fine clothes by a drab cloak. The jewelry that she was usually adored with was sold to a mad man in the last town over in order to buy a couple of bags and some food. She was making her way to the castle of Mederva, both for shelter, knowing that the Princes had known her husband, and to inform them of the chaos that was being wrought upon the Western Provinces.

The pale woman had spent the past week in a small pig-farming town. Her feet were sore with blisters and her heart was burdened with grief. She had no way of knowing if her husband was dead or alive, and at this rate without any word, she assumed him dead. Sophia had made this town a temporary stop; it was hidden away and was of little to no value to a higher man. She knew that the Iron Duke would not seek out this land, nor would he suspect that she was being harbored her.

A gentle old man took her in for a couple nights, feeding her for nothing in exchange. Many times Sophia offered to pay in with what little jewelry she had left, but he refused. Out of the goodness of his heart he sheltered her, and quite honestly it was the first time that anyone had ever done that for her. Before leaving to seek out of the Princes of Mederva she swore to herself that once she was back on her feet she would send the man a pocket of gold. Surely he deserved at least that.

Without much word or warning two days ago Sophia set out toward the castle. She left early in the morning, pack a fair amount of food and his whatever valuable belongings she still had. Her goal was to go unnoticed, to blend in and look as if she were not unlike the rest of the poor commoners of this area. Her dirty appearance was already working its part and she exchanged her fine fabric for a more modest outfit. Over these clothes she wore a dark cloak that was tied securely around her shoulders. The hood would remain up throughout most of the forest, for no one would be able to tell who or what she was until approached.

This morning had been particularly difficult. Sophia had fallen asleep in the crook of a large tree. Though she had done fairly well thus far, the Countess Van Alstine was definitely not cut out for the bandits of the forest. Thankfully she was not captured nor harmed, the only inconvenience was that her satchel was gone. Whatever food she had left was gone along with a collect of other valuable things. Frustrated with herself for not keeping her bag securely around her through the night she wallowed in self-loathing for a moment. Even though she had never been stayed the night in the forest alone she thought herself extremely foolish.

Her inexperience had shown through, yes, but at least no one had recognized her. If someone had known her to be the Count Van Alstine’s wife she would have either been put up for ransom or murdered.

With a heavy sigh Sophia lifted herself from her ransacked camp. Gritting her teeth in utter annoyance she set out for the last bit of her journey. If she did not delay she would be able to reach the castle by the evening. She was hungry but if she told herself that she would soon be there it was enough motivation to distract her noisy stomach.

After a journey of about three or four hours Sophia’s feet weakened and her steps grew slower. It was mid morning now, with the sun fully risen and growing warmer. The Countess smoothed back stray hairs that teased at her dirty face as she heard the galloping of horses. One man riding at a dangerous speed had already gone past her; Sophia hadn’t even had the time to even try to stop him. But the sound of steady riders drew close.

Her mind raced with ideas as she spotted the two. One woman and one man, they looked nothing like bandits, she assumed it safe. Sophia had not intended to frighten the woman’s horse but her desperate attempt to get their attention was more than enough.

She bolted out in front of her them her hands raised in surrender and she shouted, “Please, you must help me!” She slowly looked up at the two as she continued, “I am in great need! I must get to the castle, I have urgent -“ Sophia was shocked by the sight in front of her. How foolish of her. Not only was the Ward Giselle in front of her but also the Prince Ephraim.

“Oh… Please, please forgive me your highness.” Sophia bowed down in a courtesy and she lowered her hands to rest properly as she did so. “I did not recognize you.” Sophia raised herself from her bow as she continued. “I’m afraid you would not recognize me as well… I am the Countess Sophia Ermount Van Alstine.” Her voice was subtle; whatever pride she used to have in saying that name was gone. She was stripped of her right to be a Countess and her land was taken over by the Iron Duke.

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One week ago – Raneis Castle, Kingdom of Medreva

Count Raymond Van Alstine was alone with his pain. The last thing he could recall was the twisted look of hatred on the face of a Brunswick lancer as the man thrust his lance into the Counts lower back.

He did not remember falling from his horse or how he had come to be blind but with small movements he had been able to touch his face and his fingers told him that he would probably never see again.

The sounds of battle seemed distant now, the screams of the dying and of their killers echoing through the stone valley beneath the silent battlements of Raneis Castle. Those battlements should have been lined with Medrevan troops but instead, as he led his men east across the mountain pass, it was the enemy who had greeted his tired troops with volleys of crossbow bolts that tumbled his elite knights into the mud.

Then their pursuers had caught up and the Count, for one brief moment, had admired the Iron Duke. The man had predicted everything the Medrevans would do and laid his trap with infinite skill and now the Brunswicker led his army against the Counts exhausted troops.

The battle, if it could be called that, was more of a massacre as the Brunswicker troops poured arrows, spears and crossbow bolts into the Medrevan ranks before finally charging across the rocky ground to carry their swords and axes to the survivors.

Some of the Medrevans, led by their Count, had managed to cut their way free and were edging past the fortress when the gates opened and lancers rode to meet them. On tired horses, unable to lift their blood crusted blades, the Medrevans were butchered on the slopes. The Count had held his own for a few moments but then a lancers blade had found his spine and he fell screaming into the blood and shit.

Voices sounded close to him now and he tried to call out, to attract their attention but he need not have bothered, they were looking for him.

“Over here my lord!” Came a shout and suddenly hands were turning him over and he moaned as pan rippled through his body.

The sound of hooves and then the voice that he had come to hate and admire sounded above him. “Get him onto a stretcher and into the Castle. He is worth more to me alive.”

Hands lifted him willingly onto a stretcher of some kind and then he was being carried across the rocky ground, low gasps escaping him every time the stretcher was jarred as one of the men carrying it stumbled.

All around him he could hear the cries of the wounded, the screams of dying horses, and the cry of carrion birds. He wanted to weep but no tears would come.

James grinned at Malik as he was engaged in his boisterous way of speaking. He had not forgotten the beautiful Isabelle, no, but he hadn’t thought it necessary to introduce the two. Though he supposed after her little comment he should have. Truly, even after being specially trained to be one of the most honorable kings James still failed in some ways.

Not wanting to show his slight embarrassment at not introducing the Princess he merely just rolled his eyes and added his own little comment to the mix. Two could play at this game, and whatever sweet talk they had earlier was quickly turning into a bitter and sarcastic humor. “You really are a Princess, aren’t you? Needing always a man to introduce you.” Though he was not his strongest jab, it would do for now. There would be plenty of time at the ball to get under her skin.

It wasn’t that James wanted to irritate Isabelle; it was just a matter of dominance over her. He had heard that she was terribly sharp and extremely independent but he wasn’t quite expecting this. Perhaps coming back at her wasn’t such a brilliant idea.

“But of course!” James said in a cheery manner to Malik. He would gladly share breakfast with such a fine royal man. In fact, if James had a choice of which royal blood he would wish to dine with Malik would be at the top of the list. Not only did that man come from an intricate and unique country, but he himself was very complex and interesting. There was a lot more than meets the eye with Malik, and perhaps he even had the words that James needed to resolve his conflicts.

After sitting down next to Malik and across from Isabelle he was served a platter of some morning bread, meat bits, and a couple of fruit. He thanked the servant simply and then began eating at a leisurely pace. James almost always ate slowly; he enjoyed food and thought it best to really indulge in whatever he was eating. Unlike his father, who ate his food as quickly as possible in order to get to more kingly business, James took time at his meals.

After swallowing a bit of sweet bread James patted his mouth with a napkin and said, “My affairs here are simple.” in response to the Prince’s comment. He explained his visit to the Medervan castle in one vague sentence, “They are my kin and I am in dire need of a place to deal with the demons.” It was an obvious place to get away from his worries for a moment. While he was here he could see clearly what really had to be done for his kingdom and what else he needed to do in order to have a firm footing as the king.

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The smile left Malik’s mouth, but never his eyes, as Isabelle spoke, and he found himself quite pleasantly amused indeed but the cut of this one’s jib, to use a sailing idiom he was rather fond of. She was smarter than she let on, what with the observational silence and the gumption to introduce herself rather than wait on someone else to do it. Boldness was a trait that Shahari men tended to favor in women, and in this, Malik did not consider himself an exception. His mother was, after all, the boldest of them all, and look at all she had done for the country.

“I assure you,” he said in response to her introduction, “the delight is just as much mine.” He’d never say it was all his, of course, because he was indeed a rather pleasant person to speak with, and that was no accident.

Less reserved than his counterpart was the Effemagne King, which of course Malik had rather expected. There was something very forthright about James, a quality he shared with Ephraim. He knew them both about equally as well, and Elijah in similar measure, though forthright would not be the correct term there, exactly. In all the wheeling and dealing countries did with one another, the royal children always became involved at some point, and it was better to know than to guess.

He was unsurprised that James was here to take the edge off, so to speak. Being a king was not an easy thing, and frankly, Malik was glad that responsibility was not yet his, may his mother live another fifty years. Always the attentive listener, he chewed over his repast thoughtfully and nodded. “And frightful demons there seem to be everywhere, these days. Lurking about in shadows and looming above our heads. The specter of war, of course, but there are more subtle pressures as well, and they no less ponderous, no?”

His eyes slid to Isabelle, though he directed the question at both. There were a few possible reasons for her own presence, but the most obvious was the one he hinted at—the pressure to wed. It was one that his court now and then tried to foist off on him, but he had ever been an independent spirit, and not inclined to do things just because the court thought it wise or best or what-have-you.

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Were Ephraim a lesser man, he would perhaps have refused to even consider this new complication. The palace was already almost full to bursting with foreign guests, refugee noblemen and women from the Western Provinces, some of them cowards who’d refused to do their duty to their (presently nonexistent) king and defend their lands before fleeing. That was not necessarily a crime to lay at the Countess’s feet—she looked less a warrior than he did a prince at the moment, and that was saying something. But it was frustrating all the same, that just when his troubles seemed to be multiplying too fast to keep up with, another should blossom in his path.

But he was no lesser man than himself, and so he did the only thing his honor would allow him to do: he offered the poor woman asylum. “You say you have great need to get to the castle, milady. Then to the castle you will go, and if you have need to speak with me specifically, you may air your worries on the way.” He glanced momentarily between himself and Giselle, then decided that his horse was probably the stronger, and so offered her a hand up to ride behind him.

“Forgive, if you would be so kind, the lack of decorum, Countess, but I’m afraid time is short and matters are urgent.” Hopefully she wouldn’t fly into a fuss—he’d known more than a few noblewomen who adhered to the letter of etiquette so tightly they managed to forget the intent. If she was insistent, she could ride with Giselle, but they needed to get back to the castle, and soon. He had a feeling, somewhere in his gut, that whatever tidings she brought were related to the war—it was evident in the defeat she wore like so many others of her peers wore pride. It cloaked her, weighing down her words and her shoulders in the way only the darkest of tidings could, and he did not envy her that.

Dai

Dai forgot where he was for a second, his mind just faded into what he was doing. It all seemed so natural to him at that moment. Horike was so much like a mother to him, far more than his own ever was. Sure Glynae had some motherly qualities, however the majority of her time was spent on seeking to advance her place in this world. Horike always told him he inherited that from her, his determination and desire to see more of himself. He was caught off guard when Laurent approached them, Dai held nothing but respect for Laurent something he was certain was mutual. He had never been one that made friends easily, Dai was far too concerned on his work effort to care half the time.

“Thank you,” Said spoke at last to Laurent’s comment. “I gathered it this morning.” He smiled softly. “Are the Royals up?” he asked the man.

---

"To be honest, I was wondering that myself." Laurent replied. He had expected at least one Prince to be in attendance when he arrived with their guest. "I've just arrived from Shahiri with Prince Malik Falmari & thus far I have only seen the Lady Lyanna & the princess' handmaid."

He looked at the woman that Dai was helping & took a minute to address her. "Horike, please see to it that a bit of extra effort is put into the food preparation whilst our fine guests are with us." He smiled warmly then, reassuring her. "Not to say that we have ever had a complaint on your cooking, of course. Only that it's important to His Highness that a good impression is made. I trust in your ability to aid in his doing so."

Food was always an important part of dazzling nobles & royals, as far as Laurent's personal experiences in the castle had shown him. Even during his travels abroad the point was made once more. He planned to check in on the kitchens again later...after taking a gander at how the decorators were faring & hopefully after a meeting with Ephraim as well.

He sighed heavily & looked about, as if he were going to find the solution to his problems there in the kitchens. "Who knows where any of them could have gone off to..." He returned his attention to Dai & gave him an inquiring look. "Have you seen Prince Elijah this morn'?"