Altaea

Prologue

“Your highness!” Count Marceau called out suddenly, the double doors of Lucius’ study bursting inwards with a swing of his arms. The man strode purposefully towards the desk, the thick soles of his shoes sounding loudly against the marble of the floor with every hurried step.

The boy stood, hand pressed to the window as he watched the streets below.

“Your highness.” The count repeated, breathing deeply from his brisk entrance. “The enemy are approaching at an alarming rate. You must leave at once.” His shoulders heaved as he tried to measure his tone and volume. But his distress was obvious.

“How did they catch us unawares?” The young boy turned to face Marceau and unlike the older man he showed no outward signs of concern, his voice was clear and authoritarian as he spoke. He did not seem a boy of barely ten years. Such was his manner.

“I do not know your highness. But they are advancing towards Voltas and at this rate they will be here within days. You must hurry.” The man insisted, the veins on his neck straining. Lucius regarded him in the dim light of the study. From his powdered wig and proudly lined face with its pallid sunken cheeks and intelligent blue eyes, down to the long tailed cream jacket over his waistcoat and pantaloons. He was the very picture of nobility. The proud and aristocratic gentleman before him had been a loyal supporter of the young prince these past few years since the death of his mother. Lucius considered the news carefully.

“What is it you suggest?” The young boy asked. His face was impassive. Serene. Long, wavy black hair was tied at the base of his neck into a low ponytail, the loose locks framing his rounded young face.

“That you hurry to the border of Salis.” The count replied with reassuring certainty. “Take this letter.” He reached into his overcoat and handed Lucius an envelope, sealed with his house’s coat of arms. “Take it to my son at the courthouse. He will deliver it to the Salisians to arrange an escort for you.” Lucius’s thin fingers slid the envelope from Marceau’s hand.

“I see.” The child said quietly, turning over the letter in his hands. “And what of Rothion, Marianne and Catherine?” He asked.

“They will be right behind you.“ He assured the prince. “Now. I must go and prepare our men. Be safe, your highness.” The man bowed deeply at the waist before turning on his heel and making his way down the corridor.

Less than an hour later and Lucius’ carriage drew up in front of the courthouse. The boy was ushered into the building flanked by two columns of armed guards who stood to attention outside the chambers of Judge Marceau whilst their prince entered. The Judge bowed, one hand on his breast as the young boy stood before him.

“Your highness. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” The judge said and Lucius produced the letter. From beneath his cape.

“Your father instructed me to give this to you. He said that it will explain what you are to do.” Marceau took the envelope, sliding a silver plated letter opener through the seal and reading it silently to himself. Lucius studied the man quietly as he read. He had the same hawk like features as his father. A long, thin face with a straight, distinguished nose and pronounced cheekbones. The man frowned in consternation.

“This is most disturbing news. You must hurry, my prince. Make for the road West. I will send my fastest messenger ahead with my father’s letter. The escort will meet you in no less than a day’s time.”

“I will inform my men.” Lucius said, but Marceau shook his head.

“No. It cannot be risked. If I am correct then the Sarifen already have spies and agents watching the roads. You would do best to travel covertly. Take only those men you have with you.” Lucius made to protest, but the judge spoke first. “Please my prince, there is no time. You must hurry.” He said and reluctantly Lucius nodded. The two exchanged bows and the young boy left the room turned to leave, his cloak trailing behind. The doors closed behind him as Marceau held the letter over the naked flame of his candle.

It was the tenth day of the ninth month in the year 2916 of the United Calendar. The Mighty Sarifen Empire declared war on Valania. The small kingdom which for so long had stood as the last line of defence against the mighty empire of Sarife was occupied and subjugated by the Imperial forces and now Sarife looms as the world’s greatest power. The Valanian nobility, divided by tensions following the death of the queen, sided almost unanimously with the invading forces. In the deciding battle in the city of Voltas the Sarifen Empire took the capitol city with little effort. Valania became a dominion of the Empire.

The once proud border nation was now little more than a mere territory.

Altaea Saga: The Prince

Eleven years from that fateful day. The country of Valania would once more be wrought with turmoil.

From behind the high, wrought iron fence the sounds of revelry could be heard. Valentia manor glittered like firelight in the dead of the summer night.

Inside the soft and gentle sounds of the violin carried over the crowded ballroom. Couples danced and men and women mingled, the sounds of conversation carrying over the music in a toneless din. The floor of the room was rose marble, decorated in an intricate pattern that called to mind the petals of a flower. The walls too had a pink hue to them, with brackets and decorations of gold leaf. The ceiling above was high and vaulted, painted with a mural depicting a host of angels encircling the sun. A huge chandelier above bathed the room with its light, lending the room a reddish tone. Servants and aids scurried to and fro, tending to the needs of the assembled nobility. The guests could be distinguished by their bright and ornate clothing. They laughed and joked, discussing business, politics and the matters of the court.

It was a breeding ground for betrayal. Gossip and hearsay spread like wildfire amongst the court and a person’s reputation could make or break them. After all without influence, you were nothing. If the King so wished a family could be stripped of their land and their sons sent to battle on distant frontiers. Likewise someone with his highness’ favour was in a position of considerable power. For nobles the court was a battlefield.

Lucenzio Di Amres cast open the doors of the ballroom and immediately all eyes were upon him. He stood there for a moment, framed in the doorway as he surveyed the crowd. It seemed that many of Valania’s nobility were gathered here today. He smiled and laughed quietly to himself before striding confidently into the room, his nonchalant swagger and devilish smirk seeming to draw the gaze of all around him. As he passed a gathering of ladies the man gave them a quick glance. They were dressed in the manner typical of nobility, curvaceous figures emphasized by tightly drawn bodices and corsets. Large flowing dresses with lace decoration and low cut cleavage designed to draw men’s gazes. Their hair draped in thick curls around their shoulders and large feathered fans hid their faces so that only their eyes remained visible. Their skin was pale from the thick makeup, cheeks daubed with rouge like a blush. They fluttered their eyelashes at him in faux innocence. Lucenzio replied with a courteous nod and in an instant the group erupted in giggling laughter.

As Lucenzio passed the group a serving boy crossed his path. Without pausing the man seized a glass from the tray the boy carried. He stopped to sip on the wine and inhaled it’s sweet aroma. Once more he cast his gaze over the crowd. Lucenzio was a handsome man, tall and with proud features. His velvet doublet, with its loose sleeves emphasized his broad shoulders and he wore breeches and tall riding boots. A rapier hung at his side, the swept hilt was polished to a fine silver sheen. He swept a hand through his wavy blonde hair and pondered who to approach. Influence after all was a game of strategy and skill.

"Lord Gideon Ce'dareaux!" The crier bowed and turned all in on movement as Gideon swept into the room his great coppery coat billowing slightly behind him. Two more of the nobility almost seemed to be caught in his wake; Ser Kord Dunnel, a landed knight, and Lord Peotor Sandovak. Both rode under Gideon's command and both accomplished soldiers.

Ser Dunnel had just recently gained his knighthood in service to the crown. Some said it had more to do with his father, a wealthy merchant and friend of the Ce'dareaux family. His pious and humble demeanor make some consider him dull. Lord Sandovak almost matches the Lord Gideon for height, but takes away from the attention garnered by his commander nonetheless.Though the ladies at court call him ravishing, many of the peasantry circulate rumors of his cruel and lustful nature. His long dark hair is thick and full, his pale blue eyes that shine with an ever present ferocity.

Gideon swaggered slightly from the weight of his sword as he navigated through the various gossip nodes, looking for a Captain or even the Lord-General. A few of the more domineering noblewomen were already looking in his direction, nostrils flaring slightly like a wolf smelling blood. He navigated with renewed vigor.

"You know, my lord," Lady Ismanne of Juriden, a southern fief. "My father, Lord Farquad, has often remarked upon your commanding presence, but I had no idea what he had meant until now." She took a dramatic breath, her chest rising and falling heavily.

"Ah, my dear Lady Ismanne. I see the rumors are true.." Gideon looked over her shoulder, he spied Lord-Captain Bernholdt gesticulating and debating with another lord."... your beauty really does rival that of the fabled siren song. Perhaps next time your father can introduce us properly. I shall look forward to it with anticipation."

Before she could respond Gideon strolled passed her and joined Bernholdt's entourage. He saw a few lords he recognized, but most he did not. With his title came an introduction to another level of the game of thrones. He often found himself lacking in common knowledge of his newly acquired peers. Bernholdt turned to look at him, as he laughed at a joke. "Oh! Here he is! The Lance of Valania! Gideon, we were just discussing it and I think that we, as gentry, have the responsibility, nay, the privilege of scouring major roads for bandits and brigands!"

Bernholdt swayed at Gideon expectantly, a overly-filled wineglass in hand. "Well, I believe that it is the duty of any lord with pride to maintain his domain." It grew quiet. Gideon slowly realized that may have just said something wrong. It was better to be seen in control. He could not afford to look a fool. "Of course, I believe in my right set any tariff I wish on trade goods brought through my land, as well."

The night was quiet. At least for now.

The city of Voltas slumbered heavily in the oppressive heat that had scarcely diminished with the sun's setting. Rotting garbage and the stench of open sewers combined to form a heavy malaise which hung over the narrow street, overwhelming the nose and pervading pores and fabric alike. To catch the slight breeze blowing in from the west every house had thrown open the windows of their second floors, out of which filtered the sounds of a few souls yet awake -- somewhere a child cried, while elsewhere a woman laughed softly.

From his place in the heavy shadows of the public fountain on the end of the street, Janos Souan missed nothing. He had crouched motionless for an hour, acquainting his eyes with the dark of the unlit street and familiarizing his ears with the noise of the sleeping city. A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead and hung maddeningly from his brow, but Souan forced himself to remain still. Waiting.

He perked up slightly; his ears had detected a new sound in the ambience. Souan sensed more than saw the dark shape of figure moving cautiously along the street towards him, hugging the shadows of the gutter. From his place by the fountain Souan shifted slightly, and the dark shape turned towards the noise. Janos gave a low whistle and in a single movement the figure scuttled across the street and was at Souan's side, emerging out of the obscuring darkness into the cloaked form of a man. A dirty and frightened face peered through the shadow of a hood at Souan. "Third house on the right," the man hissed.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as sure, Inspector. Three of their kind inside."

Souan nodded slowly. "You better be right."

"Long as you keep paying gold, I will be." The man held out a hand. From his belt Souan removed a small purse and placed it in the other man's palm. The man made the purse vanish before turning and disappearing himself into the night.

Souan stared hard down the street, counting the houses on the right side until he found the indicated building. He marked it in his head, then turned and gave another low whistle. What had appeared as no more than a heavy patch of shadows in the alley to his right now dissolved into the figures of a dozen men, who moved quietly up the alleyway towards the fountain.

"What did the snitch say, Inspector?" The heavy features of the constable gleamed with sweat, his face framed by a heavy helmet and coif. In his hands was a poleax, an ugly weapon that was nonetheless brutally efficient at battering apart mail, piercing armor, and slicing through flesh.

"Third house on the right," Janos repeated. "We move in fast, before anyone can sound the alarm. Be ready for a fight, and remember that I want at least one alive for questioning."

"Yes, Inspector." The constable, a rough old bruiser who had made a career out of brawling in the street, sounded nervous. Dealing with an inspector of the Special Constabulary put most people on edge, when an ill-timed or ill-conceived remark could lead to a sudden and everlasting disappearance.

"All right, follow me." Boots scraped against cobblestones as dark shapes filled the alley. Moving quickly, Souan counted the doors that passed to his right. One...two...three. As the squad formed up on either side of the door, Souan nodded to two constables who carried between them a heavy log battering ram.

"BOOM!"

The quiet of the night was shattered as the wooden door splintered and toppled backward off its hinges. Souan was third into the house, his dagger in hand. The air inside was humid and close, and as a lantern was unshuttered he could make out the room's interior. It was sparsely furnished -- a stool, a rough-hewn table, an iron-bound chest -- and empty of any inhabitants.

"Ground floor clear, Inspector." The house was filling up with constables. Souan passed through a doorway into the back room, a small kitchen with an empty pantry and cold hearth. Another door led into a back garden and the alley beyond, but Janos wasn't worried. He'd left another squad of constables to cordon off the streets and capture anyone trying to escape this house.

A narrow flight of stairs led up from the kitchen to the second floor, and taking a shutter lantern from one of the constables Souan peered up into the murky darkness-- and there almost died. Two crossbow bolts hissed down from above, flying past his head and snatching the lantern from his hand. "Upstairs!"

Men were shouting now. Constables pushed past Janos and thundered up the stairs. There were more shouts, the clash of steel, a scream, and then silence. "All clear!" came the shout.

Souan climbed to the second floor quickly, sheathing his dagger. A constable was waiting for him at the top of the stairs, the spearpoint of the man's poleax tipped with blood. "Looks like that information of yours was right, Inspector," he said to Janos. "It's a regular armoury up here."

The room was filled with weapons: piles of spears, racks of swords and crossbows, and bundles of crossbow quarrels. What immediately drew Souan's attention were two men lying on the floor, one clearly dead. The other was moving slowly in a pool of blood, reaching for a knife which lay on the floor beside him. Janos kicked the blade away. "Don't let him touch anything or try to kill himself," he said to one of the constables. "And fetch the chirurgeon to patch him up. I want him alive long enough for questioning."

"Yes Inspector."

Janos looked about. "There were supposed to be three here tonight."

"The third one escaped through the window, Inspector." The constable gestured toward one of the windows, which opened onto the back garden.

Souan moved to the open window, and leaned outside. A plank had been laid from windowsill to the gutterspout of the next building, providing a means of quick escape to the rooftops. Janos cursed, for whomever it was that had escaped would be long gone by now.

"Clean out the room and bring everything back to the citadel," Souan told the constables. "I want this place cleared before dawn."

The men nodded, and began gathering up the cache of weapons. The constabulary chirurgeon appeared and began tending to the wounded man, who resisted feebly. Souan looked about the room and noticed a cloth satchel half-hidden beneath a discarded blanket. He picked up the satchel and flipped back its cover to find the bag filled with folded parchments. He skimmed them, curious as to their contents, but read nothing more than senseless gibberish. "Did you find anything on the rebels?" he asked, "Any papers, perhaps?"

"No, Inspector. Just a few coins."

Janos sighed. The writing on the parchments were clearly in code, but the key must have disappeared with the third fugitive. He put the papers back into the satchel and closed its flap. "Take these with you," he instructed a constable. "Make sure they're on my desk by the morning."

He stood for a moment, pausing to survey the room. Another rebel safe house busted, another stockpile of illicit weapons seized, a traitor's death for one who had stood against the king-- none of it got Janos closer to unravelling the conspiracy which threatened to plunge Valania into open rebellion and so destroy the peace and order he worshipped. With a final disappointed shrug, Souan trudged down the stairs.

* * *

It was nearly dawn when Janos returned home, slipping through the door and sliding the bolt closed behind him. As he removed his coat and slipped off his shoes, a light appeared at the top of the stairs. "Janos?"

"It's me, dear." He climbed to the top of the stairs to where his wife Lena stood in a night-gown, candle in hand and sleep still in her eyes.

"Late night at work?" Lena asked, giving him a kiss.

"A raid," Janos said simply, taking his wife by the arm. "The girls?"

"Asleep of course."

The door creaked as Souan opened it, but the two small occupants of the bed did not stir at the sound. Both Emily and her younger sister Laila had inherited the black curls and heavy-lashed eyes of their mother, and neither awoke as Janos carefully bowed and kissed the girls lightly on their cheeks. "They look so peaceful," he remarked in a low voice as he rejoined his wife in the doorway.

"That's only when they're sleeping," Lena replied with a smile. "You're lucky not here during the day."

Janos' smile was part-amusement, part-regret. "Shall we go to bed?"

Tomorrow was, after all, another day.

As Gideon spoke, one man appeared less than enamoured. "Perhaps so, but is it wise to tax those who would bring wealth to the land? The merchants will find other routes if need be." He remarked in a low, rumbling voice. Malik peered at Gideon with dark, beady eyes. His jowly face rolled wen he opened his mouth to speak and he thumbed the gold chain at his neck. He was a large man, as wide as he was tall. Malik raised the goblet of wine to his mouth and sipped it lightly. His was a strange countenance, his brutish, offputting appearance contrasting the strangely refined grace of his movements.

"Now, Malik." A woman nearby turned to face him, her features hidden behind the large peacock feather fan that she held to her lips. Lady Victoria was a tall, regal looking woman with platinum blonde hair arranged meticulously in loose curls that rolled down her left shoulder. Though she was approaching middle age she could easily have passed for a woman in her twenties. Pale of skin with only a dash of rouge on her cheeks, her face was framed by the large lace collar of her magnificent gown. She looked to Gideon, offering her hand with a flash of her long eyelashes. "My lord, I don't believe we have been properly introduced." She purred in a low, sultry voice. "Lady Victoria de Cristescu. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. I have heard so much about you." She curtseyed politely, tugging at her bustled dress.

Lucenzio regarded the crowd that had formed around him. It was normal, he reassured himself for these people to be drawn to someone of his standing. Though he had no delusions as to the reason behind their fawning admiration. As the King's closest blood relative he would of course succeed the man if he were to die with no heir. Lucenzio listened blankly as one woman intimated none too subtly her desire to bed him. Her coarse and lewd double entendres punctuated by the forced laughter of her entourage.

With a slight bow and tilt of his head Gideon took Lady Victoria's hand in his, brushing his lips lightly across her knuckles. "The pleasure is all mine, Lady Victoria. Doubtless what you've heard is exaggerated."

Gideon looked down at the fat man before him, it was an effort to keep the sneer from his face. "My lord Malik, a man who is foolish enough to anger the merchants deserves his devalued estates. I was merely suggesting incentives for clearing roads and highways of the villainous bandits which have plagued our country as of late. I'm sure the caravans would prefer to pass through my lands unmolested, tariffs insure a lord's continued vigilance against thievery."

The night was young and already Gideon had grown weary of his fellow nobility. He sighed, masking it as boredom, and drank deeply of his wine. Looking over the lip of his glass he spied Lucenzio. The presence of one so close to the throne would draw the wolves out, gnashing their pearlescent teeth with their painted talons extended. Gideon smiled to himself, letting the image linger in his mind for a moment.

Many minor nobles passed the circle, hoping to be called upon so that they could join with the assembled elite. Gideon realized what a boon he had unwittingly granted to Sandovak and Dunnel. They stood on either side of him like obedient hounds, he was sure their noses had gained an extra inch of air. "Lady Victoria, have you met Lord Sandovak? I assure you that while my exploits may be exaggerated, but his are not."

Sandovak bowed with a flourish before Lady Victoria, "Ah, mon ami! The stars pale in comparison to the daunting beauty of your eyes. I wait in breathless anticipation for you to reveal more of your exquisite features..."

Gideon turned back to Malik, "My lord, I was wondering if you would be interested in supplying my men directly? I find that the hassle of military bureaucracy slows down my ability to wage war on our enemies. If I were to have access to quality items as they appeared I would be able to find a better use for the spoils of war which seem to have have untapped potential on the market." Gideon leaned close, whispering. "For instance; I have recently come across a few immaculate Sarifen tapestries depicting the mighty Emperor. Our allies might find them to be priceless gifts and could curry much favor for the right man."

“Celeste? Celeste! Where, pray-tell, have you been, you useless child?” Mrs. Ploom, the housekeeper of the McFarth household scowled fiercely, bringing a plump, manicured hand onto a wide hip.

“I was only—”

“Don’t start with me. I well as damn have eyes. And I know what it is you’re hiding in that laundry basket of yours!”

Audible giggles were heard a few meters away from the nearby maidservants. Celeste felt her face flare slightly as she slowly realized she had been snitched on. She muttered a curse under her breath. So they had seen her in the library.

“I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Ploom.” Celeste replied as innocently as possible, forcing a shy smile past her lips. She set the white basket down slowly and dared a glance at the rest of the girls who immediately turned their heads, stalking off with superiority.

“Don’t play dull. You’ve been sneaking off to the library, haven’t you? Don’t lie to me, girl. It’d be wise not to.”

Celeste widened her eyes, “I would never do such a thing, Mrs. Ploom. You have been mistaken. I’ve merely been carrying out your orders and my daily chores.”

At this, the old housekeeper screwed her eyes while she searched the face of her newest maidservant.

Maybe, she thought, it was foolish to believe the other maidens, for she knew the moment this child was introduced there had been a spark of jealousy of the tender relationship that had been instantaneous between Lord Nathaniel and the child. You had to be a fool to not notice that the dynamic of the household had changed.

Mrs. Ploom pursed her lips; she was torn. On one hand, she understood the bitter feelings towards Celeste. A child without a family or a home; it seemed she had come from nowhere. Yet here she was, penniless, literate, maid in the household of the esteemed McFarth family, and the sole driving purpose the Lord cared to return from his daily excursions. It was a concept Mrs. Ploom had not been able to grasp first hand. Had the Lord not a mother? Not a father? A housekeeper who had not loved him like a son?

Thus far, it had been none of these people who kept him grounded. But for a maidservant to…it was simply unheard of. On the other hand, however, Mrs. Ploom reluctantly admitted her elation at the Lord’s more frequent visits. The Lord’s presence had certainly made a difference in the dull but wealthy McFarth household. Lady McFarth had indeed seemed more vivacious lately—the sparkle in her eyes had not gone unnoticed. As for His Lordship, James McFarth, one could only say that a happy Lady of the house equaled a content husband.

Hesitant about this realization, Mrs. Ploom licked her lips, patting down her floral dress in a nervous manner, wavering between her feelings of resentment and gratitude for the girl. She studied the young girl with all the scrutiny of a suspicious mother.

“Are you angry with me, Madame? Will you dismiss me?” Celeste inquired self-consciouly, bringing a hand across her pale forehead.

“Well what are you doing just standing there? Show me the basket.” Mrs. Ploom clipped dryly, her previous anger dissipated.

At once, the auburn-haired girl bent down to rummage carefully and thoroughly through the basket full of clothes. There were no books to be seen.

“Fools.” Mrs. Ploom grumbled, feeling slightly shameful.

“Please don’t blame the others.” Celeste pleaded, a strange brightness to her eyes.

The housekeeper frowned, “You are the only one to be blamed! If you hadn’t been sneaking around in the library in the first place…Oh for heaven’s sake, very well! Carry on with your chores.”

“Yes, Madame. Thank you.” Celeste replied solemnly, and for a quick moment Mrs. Ploom wished she hadn’t been so harsh.

She was unable to draw forth an apology as she watched the maidservant saunter away, a light bounce in her steps.

A small smile crept along her chapped mouth.

At once the realization finally struck her: even if the girl had lied, she wouldn’t have dismissed her. Somehow in her mind, she knew she would have complied an excuse for the child. And maybe, just maybe the girl had somehow been able to occupy a small place in her rugged, old heart.

***

As soon as she had been able to escape to the servant’s sleeping quarters, Celeste hoisted up her skirt shamelessly, excitement dulling the nimbleness of her digits as she struggled with the knot of rope discretely tied around her slim waist. Quickly, with the slight fear of being caught, she untangled the rope that held two books attached to her waist. She then slid them underneath her mattress firmly, but not before grabbing two different novels, the ones she had taken a few nights ago. She propped them against her waist, tying them securely with a vicious pull on the cord. She draped her skirt out, making sure no bumps appeared. Feeling a little warm with exhilaration, a devious, yet playful smirk danced across her face as she took a few deep breaths, right before leaving the chambers to return the items she had borrowed.

She breathed a single word, however, there was no hatred or anger in her voice, “Fools."

"You are too kind, my lord." Victoria curtseyed to Sandovak, replying to his flirtatious remark with a coy smile. "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintence. How is it that I have not met you before tonight?" She asked. "It is a good thing we have such brave and able men as yourself protecting us.

Lucenzio Amres swilled the wine in his half empty glass, the all too sweet aroma choking his nostrils. What was this cheap bilgewater these people had been drinking? He regarded the man infront of him with half lidded eyes and barely concealed contempt. Lysander Asturia was the head of an influential and well established aristocratic family and had spent most of his life in luxury. there were various reasons why Lucenio had reason to despise him. He rarely worked and was well known to spend most of his time and money courting numerous young ladies of various classes. His flamboyantly effeminate appearance and attitude were also widely mocked in his absence. The deluded child even had designs on the throne, it was rumoured.

And most importantly, the boy was a moron.

Lucenzio sighed loudly as he listened to Lysander prattle on about his latest conquest. The not-so-veiled insinuations pointing squarely at the middle daughter of the Verona family, suggesting that she had been 'most satisfied' following his latest visit. Lucenzio rubbed his forehead.

"I think perhaps you mistake satisfaction at your leaving for satisfaction at your performance." Lucenzio remaked, loud enough for all around to hear. Far from the subtle and biting wit expected from one of his standing, but Lucenzio had never been one to suffer fools gladly. He watched with a grim smirk as Lysander clenched his fists, a frown turning into a snarl turning into a grimace as his boyish face turned bright red. Though whether from fury or embarassment none could tell. His work done, Lucenzio bowed deeply at the waist with a flourish before turning away.

The crier looked uncomfortable, as he stepped through the door to the ballroom. His face was flushed, as he smoothed his cloths and drew in a deep breath. Maybe it was shame or embarrassment that colored his face but it could have been anger though. Nervous was certainty written on his face, as if he was about to cause the greatest scandal in Valanian history.

“The Lady” he called out, praying not to twist his tongue into knots with the strange names of those he was to announce, “Aliyyah Bahiya Bint Amid Al-dhi’b, wife of Sheikh Asad Hakem Ibn Fawwaz Al-Dahabrabiya and escort!”

“The Lady” the crier continued, “Ghaniyah Imtithal Bint Fareeq Al-Alyah, second wife of Sheikh Asad Hakem Ibn Fawwaz Al-Dahabrabiya and escort!”

“The Lady” he finished, “Haifa Najibah Bint Kareem Al-Baqqar, third wife of Sheikh Asad Hakem Ibn Fawwaz Al-Dahabrabiya and escort!”

Three women appeared through the doorway, in the order that they were named. The first, the Lady Aliyyah was clad in a red silk khalat, which was decorated with flowers stitched in gold thread. A matching red silk headscarf covered her hair and neck. Across her face was a Bushiyya of gold silk, the veil so sheer that it didn’t need eyeholes and was held up around her forehead by a gold chain, set with small rubies, save for the one in the middle of her forehead, which was of good size. Peaking out from under the wide robe, were a pair of red slippers.

The second, Lady Ghaniyah, was dressed much like first. Her khalat was light blue silk, helmed in red and decorated with stars of gold thread. Her headscarf was of the same blue silk and worn in the same manner, as the first wife’s. Her Bushiyya was sheer gold silk, held with a gold chain but set with small sapphires. Her slippers where blue.

The third, Lady Haifa, was again dressed in a khalat but green in color and did not have stitching covering it. Instead the robe glittered with tiny flecks of gold, slipped into the weave of the cloth. Like the other two, her headscarf was worn around her head and neck and was made of the same material as her robe (just like her slippers). Her gold Bushiyya was held up by a gold chain, which was set with small emeralds.

Behind each woman stood a massive man with almost black skin. Uniformly, they were tall, broad chested, well muscled, heads shaven and stripped to the waist. Each wore a pair of baggy black cotton trousers, a pair of black slipper-like boots and a red sash wrapped around his waist. On the left hip of each man, there was a broad blade, curved sword, thrust naked through the sash. On their right hips, were curved daggers. Each wore a guarded expression, as they stood close to their mistresses. The eunuchs behind lady Haifa and Lady Ghaniyah, stood with arms across their chests. The one behind lady Aliyyah rested his hands on the hilts of his weapons.

------------------------------------

The soft sound of a quill gliding over parchment drifted lazily across the study of Asad Hakem Ibn Fawwaz Al-Dahabrabiya, in the royal palace of Valania. Candles flickered, as a breeze drifted in through the windows, causing the shadows to dance on the walls. The almost lullaby of the quill paused for a second, as it was dripped lightly into the inkpot and tapped against the plain brown clay.

“Rebels” said the Sarifen in soft tones, while stroking his short beard with his left hand. Before him was a report for the Emperor about their activities, as well as a request for more of his countrymen, to reinforce the royal guard here in Voltas. One of the Tazhi Spai hounds lifted it’s head and looked towards it’s master, as if awaiting a command to run down prey. After a minute, the dog lowered it’s head back to the rug and went back to sleep.

Asad glanced over at his pack of sight hounds, whom had invade the room and smiled for real. He always looked like he was smiling but he rarely did in truth and not so much since he arrived in this foreign land. Now it just was the sight of his dogs, his wives or many a pretty serving girl, that got a real smile out of him anymore. Or when he counted the gold he had stored in his chambers.

Victoria watched with cool curiosity as the women and their bodyguards entered the room. She could not help but admire the eunuchs and their well muscled bodies. However it was the women that most piqued her interest. They were dressed in the exotic and lavish garb of Sarifen nobles. She wondered what business they had at the party. Most of the Sarifen lords and their families openly spurned the Valanians and their functions. She regarded them from the corners of her eyes.

Lysander reached to his waist for the sword that hung from his belt, gripping the hilt so tight in his hand that his knuckles blanched. One of his entourage steadied him, placing a hand on his arm and the boy quivered with anger, sneering at Amres as the man left. Lucenzio, for his part seemed to have already forgotten the other in the split second it took him to avert his gaze and he now ambled over to another part of the hall. Suddenly and without warning he felt someone seize him by the arm and Lucenzio whirled.

"You made it then, Lucenzio!" The man holding his arm said happily. He beamed at him with a wide grin beneath a dark moustache. "You and I must talk. It has been too long." Jean wagged his finger as though lecturing a child. Lucenzio smiled.

"You are right. It has been too long." Amres nodded with a shrug of acquiescence. "And I would appreciate the intelligent conversation. I just spent the last few precious minutes of my life conversing with that fool Asturia boy." He snorted, sipping from his wine.

"You never were the best at making friends." Jean laughed, looking over to the furious young man as he left the hall and Jean clapped Lucenzio on the back.

"Your sister seems well." Amres gestured to Victoria, still chatting idly with Sir Gideon and his knights.

"As always, she takes care of herself. She keeps harrying me to ask you about your brother." Jean smiled, casting his gaze over to where Victoria stood.

"She is not his type." Lucenzio remarked slyly. Victoria had always been too brazen in her attempts to ingratiate herself with the King. It was all too obvious that she was interested only in setting her son on the throne.

"It seems no one is." Jean barked with laughter. "Watch yourself. If he doesn't produce an heir you'll be the one to take his place." Lucenzio's shoulders shook in a snorted laugh.

"Over my dead body."

"In any case. I shall let you be off. Remember, come and see me when you are free. We have much to talk about." Jean smiled boldly and Lucenzio nodded, making his way slowly to a group of closely clustered men and women in one corner of the hall.

"Lord Amres!" There came a cry and one of the men beckoned him over. "We were just discussing business. Maybe you can offer some advice." Baron Anhalt suggested. As Lucenzio approached he half listened to the conversation, allowing his gaze, along with most of his attention, to wander. He spied a shy looking woman by immersed in the crowds, her dark hair tied back by two braids. His expression softened as he beheld Margaret and they exchanged a playful glance before his attention was drawn suddenly back to the conversation.

"I can assure you, Baron, your investment will be safe. Cornsilk from the West is a prized commodity in Sarife. The women, they use it in their makeup." The man, Galli, rubbed his fingers together as though grinding powder. "And if we can ensure monopoly on the route, then we will make a killing!" He exclaimed. Lucenzio couldn't help but smirk. He hummed to himself as though trying to place a thought and the others looked at him.

"Galli. Wasn't it your advice that the Veronas invest in the northern mines?" Amres said.

"What of it?" The man spat back, guarded.

"Well that venture left them out of pocket by some margin. They had to sell half of their land to cover the debt." Lucenzio smiled grimly. "I merely wish to save the Baron such a costly investment." He could feel the spite rise from Galli like a black cloud. The man's eyes were like daggers. Lucenzio shrugged. "Of course, you've always been know to as one who is careful with his money." He turned to Anhalt.

"A backhanded complement if ever I heard one." Anhalt said, his expression hardening and he frowned.

"I assure you I meant nothing by it." Lucenzio raised his hands in supplication, and yet the mischeivous smile on his face did not fade. Galli sloped off quietly sneering at the tall man.

Gideon turned from Malik, smiling at one of Sandovak's witty comments. "Sir Dunnel is my most trusted friend, and sits at my right hand."

Dunnel smiled politely and bowed before Victoria, his demeanor humble and formal. His garb was drab, but good quality. He seemed at odds with many of the nearby lords. His look, rather than making him look out of place, seemed to mock the gaudy dress of many nearby. "My Lady Victoria, it is an honor of the highest order to meet you. I shall treasure this moment."

Gideon put his arm on one of the passing servants. He leaned in and whispered, "Get me a strong drink from your cellar-man, I tire of this perfume."

--

With a grunt Derfel shifted uncomfortably in his sleep around the musky pillows of the opium den. His limp hand rested on a small end table with a great number of small and fine writing tools on it. Among these were a perfect counterfeit seal of one of the notables of the Merchant's Guild and an open letter to a specific caravan master.

"Caravan Master Rendy Balsh,

You may be aware that a number of caravans have waylaid recently, making investors wary. I send these men to vouchsafe our materials. Do not be alarmed, for they have an ulterior purpose. I have them searching for signs of anything that may lead us to those ultimately responsible. I ask that you give these men a deal of autonomy so that they might best do their jobs. They are my personal men, none will care as to the contents of your caravan.

I understand that this is unexpected, but I assure you that had we not been cautious and had played our hand to soon that nothing would be gained from this.

Walter Lafer, Secretary Posterior of the Merchant's Guild"

--

The servant brought back a wide glass full of a slightly transparent brown liquid. With a bow he extended his tray. "My lord."

Gideon took the glass without looking at the man. He took an overly large swig and bowed before the Lady Victoria and the Lord Malik. "If you will excuse me, I need to return the Lord-Captain here to our garrison. We depart for the border tomorrow. Hail Valania!"

With that he turned from the assembled and departed, his knights in tow. Lord Sandovak with a look of mock disappointment and Sir Dunnel assisting his Lord-Captain in walking.

A woman with raven hair approached Aliyyah, and she smiled softly as she curtseyed, lifting the sheer black dress from her knees. She was tall, with a curvaceous figure that her slim, satin dress did little to hide. Long black gloves ran the length of her arms. "Lady Aliyyah." She started politely, making sure to keep her distance as custom decreed. "It is a surprise to see you and your fellow ladies here. Will your husband be joining us tonight?" The woman cocked her head to the side slightly. She was pale, almost white even without the aid of makeup and her eyes were a dark blue that seemed almost black. She was Lady Daniella Fauvine, the head of the King's secret police, a fact that she made little effort to hide.

At the same time a tall and gaunt looking man took Haifa aside, bowing at the waist. His hands were hidden in the folds of his crimson robes and he wore a high brimmed collar. His curiously pointed features called to mind classical depictions of the devil, with dark hair slicked back to reveal a high widows peak and his thick facial hair styled into a pointed van dyke. He smiled disingenuously at her. "My lady." He offered curtly as though testing the waters. The Lord High Chancellor continued, still not removing the hands from his robes. "I take it the journey was not a long one. Would you care for some wine?"

Lastly another man approached Lady Ghaniyah. He was short and stocky looking, with a jutting brow and misshapen jaw that protruded grotesquely. Though he walked with the bearing of nobility his appearance drew quiet whispers and sneers. The king's youngest brother, James Montenoire swept a hand behind his back and bowed at the waist, looking as though he might topple as he righted himself. "My lady." He purred in a voice like silk. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" He spared a glance to the Eunuch by her side. "It seems your husband spares no expense in keeping his wives safe." He continued, smiling broadly. It was then that Lucenzio arrived.

"Please excuse my brother, milady." The tall man said with a gentle smile. He looked down at James. "I know he isn't the most sparkling of company." Lucenzio slapped the other man on the back and James replied with a guarded smile filled with barely veiled hostility.

Victoria bid the two farewell as they departed and at their prompt the room erupted into a chorus of proud salutes. "Hail Valania!" They cried.

"Such a pity." She cooed in exageratted disappointment.

“I am afraid not” said Aliyyah, her tone light and musical, as she returned the curtsey, “My husband is currently very busy in the palace. The rebels have him very concerned, their growing numbers and the unrest they create. Your own troops have been very valiant and diligent in collecting them, so much so, that my lord husband is requesting more of our soldiers to free up more of yours to hunt these traitors.”

Haifa smiled behind her gold bushiyya, at the offer of wine. She was perhaps the youngest of the three women married to the wealthy Sheikh and the most out going but she was still a little nervous around men (but not the eunuch, as they were not men), having been sheltered from them for most of her life. Her feet shifted but the movement was hidden under the wide hem of the glittering green khalat.

“Yes” she finally said, a slight blush appearing on her olive skin, ‘I would enjoy tasting the local vineyards.”

Ghaniyah was the only one of the Sarifen women to look a little taken aback by the guest that approached her. It wasn’t so much his words, although those could be taken as too bold or unrespectful, but it appeared that he was drunk. Her large bodyguard dropped his hands to his weapons and took a half step forwards, as the second man appeared.

“He has been perfectly charming” she said, recovering with the reassuring presence of the eunuch, “Whom might I have the pleasure of addressing my lords?”

"More's the pity." Daniella said. "But it is good to hear that he is dilligent in his duties. We could use more men like your husband." She cast an appraising glance around the hall. "I fear that the men of this country have forgotten what it means to be a noble." She turned back to Aliyyah.

Nicholas smiled graciously and snapped his bony fingers loudly. A serving boy appeared with hurried steps, presenting a tray of wine glasses to Haifa. He waited in silence until they had chosen and bowed stiffly before scurrying off like a frightened rodent. The Lord High Chancellor lifted his glass to her. "I hope you find it most pleasing." He offered, taking a sip. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Daniella and he stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the woman.

"Lucenzio Amres." Lucenzio bowed with a flourish as he introduced himself to Ghaniyah. He gestured to the shorter man. "And this is my younger brother, James." He said. "Please forgive him any improriety, his is a hard lot." He patted his brother on the shoulder like one would a child. A brief flicker of emotion passed over James' face and short lived though it was there was no mistaking the hatred as he looked up at Lucenzio. "Have no worry. He is not nearly as offensive as his appearance would suggest." He smiled and strangely James did too, chuckling at the comment.

"Truly. You have no idea how difficult it can be for one of my... standing." James made light of his stature.

"It is a shame that our elder brother could not be here tonight. But I hear he and your husband have their hands full these days." Lucenzio added. "Richter speaks most highly of the Sheikh."

***

"Victoria" A strong hand clapped on her shoulder and she turned. Her brother's face smiled down on her through the thin moustache and pointed beard.

"Jean." She replied in kind. "How are you this evening?" She asked and Jean sighed.

"Weary." He said with a sigh. "It's been so long since I last saw you I was beginning to foget what my little sister looked like these days." He laughed. It was a tired, strained laugh. Victoria patted his hand on her shoulder.

"Well, then we should take this time to reacquaint ourselves. Walk with me. There are things I need to discuss with you." The blonde woman said, walking primly from the hall through to the gardens.

Charlotte sighed. The night air was cool against her skin as she stood on the balcony's edge, her elbows propped on the stone railing. She crossed her arms and looked out over the garden of the Valentia manor. Music from inside the hall drifted to her ears, muffled slightly by the glass door behind her. She smiled to herself, enjoying the brief respite of the balcony. She enoyed it here, the vantage point was as good as one could get for watching the manor grounds and she spied a couple making their way across the lawn towards the bottom of the garden. A couple of lovers taking time out from the party she supposed and her suspicions were confirmed when the man took the blonde haired woman aside behind one of the trees. Charlotte giggled to herself, wondering what they would think if they knew they were being watched. Then, with another tired sigh she turned around and returned to the party.

Inside Lucenzio spotted something across the hall and his smirk soon contorted into a frown.

"Excuse me." He said to Ghaniyah, though he did not look at the woman. He marched off in a hurry and James watched him leave out the corner of his eye.

Some time later and there was a thunderous crash as the doors of the hall were swept open.

"Someone, call the constabulary." The young man yelled loudly. "Lord Amres has been assassinated!" He was aghast, his hands caked in still wet blood. Red smears streaked across his jacket and flecked his face. His eyes were wild and staring, twitching as he looked between the partygoers. Charlotte gasped, clasping her hands to her mouth in horror.

A slight smirk crept across Daniella's lips, nearly invisible as she heard the man's desperate cries. She stood back and watched from a distance as a crowd gathered around the distraught young man. She recognised him as Amres' nephew, Stephan de Aurin. Strange that he had not been attendant at the party until now, she thought to herself. two more figures were quick to follow the boy. Jean and Victoria de Cristescu, who shared the boy's anxious looks. They were breathing heavily from the run and Jean braced himself on the door frame.

The crowd parted as James approached the boy, a look of concern written across his face. The short man looked up at Stephan.

"My boy, what is the matter?" He asked.

"Uncle." Stephan said, gripping James by the shoulders. The blood from his gloves stained James' coat. "He's been killed. Someone has killed him." The young man's words were hurried and choked.

"Who, Stephan. Who has been killed?" James took Stephan's face in his hands, looking into the boy's bulging eyes.

"Uncle Lucenzio." Stephan panted, almost in disbelief at his own words. James' expression turned quickly to one of shock as he froze. Stephan rose, looking to the others in the hall. "Someone!" He cried out. "Someone call the guard!" He was sobbing, tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Do as he says." Jean barked, stepping forward into the hall. James turned away, his head buried in his hand.

"Stephan!" Charlotte cried out, running to him. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I-" She started, but could not find the words. He shook in her arms as his body was wracked by sobs and she stroked a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

***

There was a loud, frantic rapping on Janos' door as the messenger called out for the inspector loudly.

"Inspector Souan!" The messenger bellowed, his voice urgent with panic. He stepped backwards and looked up at the windows of the house. "Inspector! You must come quickly! There has been an incident!" The young man shouted. He was a callow youth with lank blonde hair that hung limply about his face. He brushed back the curls from his face as he waited for an answer.

Upstairs, Janos Souan groaned and pressed his face deeper into his pillow. "Can a man get no rest?"

"Don't answer it," Lena said sleepily. "Go back to sleep."

Janos was silent for a moment, wrestling with temptation. In the end, however, duty won out over sleep and with a long sigh swung himself out of bed.

"Isn't there another inspector in the constabulary they could call on?" his wife asked, watching through half-closed eyes as he dressed.

"There are dozens of other inspectors," Janos replied, pulling on his boots. "However, they've sent for me, and so I must do as I'm ordered."

Descending the stairs, he removed his hat and coat from their pegs by the door, and slipped into the hot night. A boy waited for him outside, breathing hard. "Inspector Souan, you've got to come with me!"

"So I gathered," Janos remarked drily, shivering slightly as a cool breeze blew in off the river. "Where are we going, lad?"

"Valentia manor, Inspector. It's about Lord Amres."

"What about it?"

"He's dead, Inspector."

The thin smile on Janos' face vanished in an instant. "We must hurry."

A party of constables and soldiers had already assembled at the River Gate by the time Souan arrived. A horse was waiting for him, and Janos clambered awkwardly into the saddle. With a clatter of hooves on cobblestones the riders made their out of the River Gate and down the switch-backed road to the stone bridge across the River Valans. Souan was no great horseman, and as they reached the far bank he found himself hanging on for dear life as the pace increased to a gallop.



After what seemed an age, but was in truth little more than fifteen minutes, dark and sleeping countryside gave way to the bright lights of Valentia manor. The riders passed through the grounds gate and at last came to a halt before the manor's arched portico. In the commotion a groom appeared and held the bridle of Souan's horse as the inspector thankfully dismounted. He paused for a moment, standing unsteadily on legs that felt like jelly, before making his up the wide stone steps to the portico. "Where is Lord Amres?" he asked the crowd which was gathered before the manor's large double doors.

"This way, Inspector," someone said, and the crowd parted to allow Souan inside. The halls through which he passed were lined with Valania's richest and most powerful men and women, who stared silently as Janos passed. Meeting their gaze, he recognized the fear in their eyes and knew at once all shared the same thoughts. If Lord Lucenzio di Amres could be killed here, no one was safe. Who would be next?"

Souan was led through the great public spaces of the manor to the wing where the family's private apartments were located. Lucenzio di Amre lay where he had been found, his body sprawled half-out of his bedchambers in a pool of blood. Souan squatted beside the corpse and gently turned it over onto its back, revealing a face frozen in a horrified grimace and eyes clouded in death. Amres had been stabbed several times in the chest, which indicated he had been attacked from the front, but examining further Souan could find no defensive wounds or signs of a struggle. Janos sat back on heels, thinking. To be attacked from the front Amres must have seen his attacker, but the absence of a struggle suggested he had nonetheless been surprised. Could he have known the one who killed him?

"Are the manor grounds secure?" he asked one of the soldiers who had been standing by the body.

"Yes, Inspector."

Souan nodded. "Who discovered His Lordship?"

The soldier indicated a fair-haired boy who was sitting cradled in the arms of a well-dressed woman. "His nephew, Stephan de Aurin."

Janos felt a pang of sympathy for the youth, who he could see was scarcely older than his own Emily. "My apologies, my lord," he said with a stiff bow. "I am sorry for your loss. Could you tell me how you discovered your uncle... like this?"

Stephan and Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed and Stephan looked up at Janos. He was wringing his hands, still stained with blood and his eyes had the haunted look of a man who was living in memories. He shook and Charlotte placed a reassuring hand on his back.

"I-" He started, swallowing hard and blinking back tears. "I was walking in the gardens when I heard a shout." His glassy eyed stare peered off into the distance, looking through Janos as he spoke. His voice was trembling. "I hurried to see what was occuring and I saw a figure take flight at my approach. But by the time I arrived..." He swallowed again with a dry throat. "My uncle... he was already dead." He turned his gaze to the floor and bit his lip.

"We brought him inside to see if we could help, but it was already too late." Lord Anhalt said, standing tall by the door of the chamber. His face was impassive as he spoke, and he looked down on Lucenzio's body with stern eyes.

"My lady. The captain of the guard has arrived." One of the servants said to Charlotte and she stood, her hand trailing across Stephan's shoulders she gave him a reassuring look before following the servant out into the main hall.

"Alexander!" She gasped in relief, rushing over to the man who stood, clad in his white and blue surcoat. His sword hung at his side and he rested a hand on the hilt.

"Charlotte. Are you alright?" He asked the girl and she nodded, her eyes glistening wetly with tears. She led him to the room where Janos and Stephan were. "Inspector." Alexander nodded politely at Janos. "I am glad you are here. Your expertise will be most valuable in finding the culprit." He looked down at Lucenzio's body, turning it over he glanced at the wounds. A number of superficial cuts to the abdomen and a single strike below the ribs, upwards and into the heart. Death would have been instantaneous. Alexander frowned.

A black clad woman approached Janos. Daniella whispered into his ear.

"I leave this matter in your hands, Janos." She whispered. "Make this case your utmost priority." Her breath was hot against his neck.

A sharp knocking could be heard before a liveried squire stepped into Gideon's chambers. The slumbering lord opened his eyes slowly, his head thick with the drink from earlier that night. "What is it, Olver?"

The boy stood upright and bowed. "Milord, I fear that tragedy has struck the Regent's house; Lucenzio is dead. Assassinated in the gardens of the villa where you took your ease earlier this eve."

Gideon grunted and slid his feet off the bed and stood, stretching. The squire quickly produced a robe so that his lord could cover his nakedness. "Also, sire, you were seen to leave the event right before the assassination..."

The lord stalked his way across the room quickly, robe trailing behind him. "Yes?"

"Well, sire, I have personally been with you for the entire night and would be honored to put aside any questions with my own personal testimony." The squire hurried to catch up, his stride smaller than Gideon's.

"Olver, this is the first time I have seen you tonight." The lord stopped in front his small mirror next to a claw bath tub.

"I'll fetch some water, sire. And I have no idea what you're talking about, sire, I have been at your side since you made your exit from the villa." Olver bowed deeply and ran off, presumably to fetch hot water.

Gideon looked into the mirror, rubbing his beard roughly.


It wasn't until much later as Gideon stood in the early morning light, with Stoic pacing anxiously beneath him, that what his squire had been implying hit him.The young man thought that Lord Gideon might have had something to do with the assassination. His temper began to turn, but a small and calculating voice in the deep recesses of his mind began to point out that having such loyal subjects was a boon. As the peasants were wont to say, "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."

The Lance of Valania stood arrayed with his knights, the eerie pre-dawn light shone dully on their armor. A light fog settled around the legs of their horses, the air damp with dew. The clanking of armor could be heard alongside the rough voices of men riding to war. Gideon exhaled happily, the air fogging in front of his face.

He looked over to Olver, the boy rode a roan stallion proudly wearing his master's colors. Gideon would have to reward the young man. The boy would make a fine addition to his small army when he came of age. "Olver, come here, boy. I want you to send a man to the Regent's villa and give my deepest regards to the family."

"Sire, Richter might take offense at you not coming yourself." Olver leaned forward as if to make ready to go, but he paused, awaiting his lord's answer.

"I'm sure Richter will understand that I have my duties to attend to. My allegiance is to the cr- kingdom." Gideon shifted his large blade and sent Stoic into a trot. He looked over at Olver, who rode beside him for a few steps before turning to obey. "Stop. I cannot risk offending, but I cannot stay. Fortunately I can leave it implied that my uncle's condolences are mine as well"

A maroon clad messenger hurried over to Alexander. His livery bore the king's crest and he handed Alexander a sealed envelope which the young man tore open hurriedly. His face dropped as he finished reading the letter within and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Stephan." He said slowly, as though in disbelief. Alexander drew his sword and placed it across Stephan's neck. "By order of his highness, the King of Valania, I hereby arrest you under suspicion of the murder of his lordship Lucenzio Di Amres. You are to be placed in the custody of the city watch indefinately until trial." He announced solemnly. Stephan was taken aback and he tried to utter words of protest, but no words would come to his lips. The young boy looked around the room in confusion.

"I-" He started. "I would never..." He was lost for words. Charlotte seized Alexander's arm tightly.

"Please. Stop this Alexander! You can't honestly think Stephan had anything to do with this?" She pleaded, but Alexander sighed quietly.

"It is a royal decree. He handed her the envelope. The broken seal was undoubtedly of the royal house. "I have no choice in the matter." The guards flanking Alexander stepped forward and restrained Stephan, dragging him from the room.

"Please! I have done nothing wrong! Someone! Tell them I have done nothign wrong!" He continued to beg as he was led forcibly from the chamber. Alexander sheathed his sword and looked down at the floor when Charlotte averted her eyes.

"I will do what I can for him." Alexander said to her quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Janos was shocked by the sudden turn of events, although he was too tired and too skilled at his trade to show it. An arrest warrant? Already?? When the body was not yet cold. He deftly disengaged himself from Daniella and made a leg. "I assure you, Milady, I will devote myself to finding out the truth behind this horrific crime."

Moving swiftly across the room to where Alexander stood, Janos muttered into the knight's ear. "Sir Dupres, this is most unusual. Forgive me if I am being too bold, but should we withhold issuing an arrest warrant until I have time to continue with my investigation?"

Charlotte bit her lip as she watched Alexander from the corner of her eyes. Impossible. not Stephan. There was no way he could have murdered his uncle. The thought repeated in her mind ever faster. She could think of nothing else.

"I understand your concern, Inspector." Alexander looked Janos in the eye. "But I cannot ignore a direct order from his highness." He sighed heavily, the decision obviously weighing down on his heart. He gave a terse order to his remaining men and they began to prepare the body. Charlotte noticed a brief, pained look cross his face as the young man left the room and he strode hurriedly down the corridor.

Charlotte blinked back the tears in her eyes as she marched from the room and past Alexander. Impossible. She thought again. Reaching the cold air of the blacony Charlotte balled her fists. Stephan was innocent. She knew this to be true. She balled her fists tight as she swore. One way or another, she would prove his innocence.

***

Outside Alexander impatiently in a nearby alleyway for Janos to appear. When at last the older man exited the manor Alexander stepped out into the light, beckoning the man to follow him before he stole back into the darkness.

"I am sorry Inspector. I did not feel that I could speak openly." He said, looking to and fro to make sure that they were alone. "It is obvious to me that there is more to this crime than meets the eye." He spoke low and with a hurried urgency in his voice. "Take this." He pressed the letter, with its royal seal, into Janos' hands. "If my suspicions are correct, that letter will be the key to finding Lord Amres' murderer." He placed a hand on Janos' shoulder. "I do not know who it may be, but the author of that letter is responsible for Amres death. I am relying on you to find that person and bring him to justice." He said, shaking Janos urgently. "Please. Help me." Alexander stood back, suddenly aware of himself again. "I am sorry. I must go. Remember, that letter is the key." And with that Alexander vanished into the shadows of the alleyway, disappearing into the winding backstreets of Voltas.

***

Ty sprinted up the stairs of the library's tower with long, loping steps. Each stride taking him across three of the stone stairs. In all of his ten years, the boy had never felt so tired and he leaned against the large, oak door at the top of the staircase, taking in long, panting breaths. Morning light streamed through the sparsely placed lead lined glass windows,. Ty hammered on the door with his fists.

"Louise! Louise!" He yelled through the door and a quiet voice answered him.

"Come in. Its open."

Ty pushed open the door and stepped into the room beyond. The large, octagonal room was surprisingly large, with high stone walls that swept sharply upwards into a vaulted ceiling and four leaded windows that opened up onto the sky beyond, offering a magnificent view of the city. The room was perhaps three times as tall as it was wide, and it was certainly wide. Several times the boy had tried to measure its size by his footsteps, but each time he had run out of numbers before he could reach the end. For one such as him, a mere servant, such splendour was more than he could have imagined. A large wooden desk sat in the corner of the room, piled high with books in haphazard towers that looked ready to collapse at the slightest breeze. A high backed chair sat in front of the desk.

"What is it?" The voice asked again and Ty swallowed hard as he struggled to speak, chest still heaving from his run up the staircase.

"There has been a murder last night." He huffed out between breaths. "Everyone is talking about it." He placed his hand on his knees to brace himself. "They say the King's brother, Lord Amres, had been assassinated." He heard Louise hum curiously.

A long, silken strand of blonde hair cascaded over the arm of the chair and a small, doll like face peered at Ty with a blank expression. Ty watched Louise expectantly. The girl was around the same age as Ty, with a pale complexion and round, full features with a small mouth and button nose.

"Is that so?" She asked with muted interest. Her large blue eyes fluttered their long, dark lashes as she blinked. "Tell me more."

The thunder of hooves, followed by clashes of steel and guttural screams, rent the foggy morning air, sending what little wild-life remained in the barren and hilly plains running for the forest. Lord Gideon Ce'dareaux swung his heavy falchion down from atop his mount in the Arc-of-the-Moon, almost severing a gypsy archer's arm at the shoulder. With a flourish of his blade and a toss of the reigns the lord quickly dispatched another archer and a spearman. He halted well ahead of the clearing just outside of the forest to which the gypsy bandits ran. "Fall back! We're done here."

The seven men he had brought with him either mounted or started away from the forest, back to the main road. His squire was one of those that had dismounted during the skirmish. He stood, with his bloodied blade before him, above the body of another swordsmen with his head mostly hacked off. "Two things, young Olver; Firstly, you were told to go after archers, they are the most dangerous to us. Secondly, during a coordinated skirmish you must never, I repeat NEVER, leave your horse."

Gideon turned to look at the knights that had dismounted without a word then started back to the road.


"It seems that the bandits that have been plaguing this pass are Prince Gaspar's personal honor guard." Sandovak finished the letter and passed it to Gideon who read it with raised eyebrows.

"Who the bloody hell is Prince Gaspar?" He crushed the letter in his gauntleted fist then tossed it into the fireplace. They stood with Olver and Sir Dunnel in the parlour of Halton Manor; the manor of the prefect in charge of Geron's Pass.

Olver stepped forward and bowed, "If I may, milord?"

Gideon nodded his head and twirled his hand as if to say, "Get on with it."

"Prince is an honorific given the gypsy in charge of a caravan. The hierarchy is most complex, each caravan is actually like-"

"That's enough, Olver. I had quite enough of gypsies before I got out of bed this morning." Sandovak put his hand on Olver's shoulder and smiled.

Taking a fire poker and shifting a log, Sir Dunnel guffawed. "Is that what she was? Gypsy?"

The embers brightened and ash scattered. Gideon looked into the flames intently, his thoughts a mystery to his comrades. After a few more moments of introspection he spoke, "The letter states that this so called "prince" seeks to hold me to account for destruction of property and murder."

Everyone was silent as Gideon poured himself a glass of a dark and viscous liquor. He took a drink before continuing, "Though this gypsy upstart does have some rights granted to land owners and citizenry he cannot possibly think his word is worth more than mine. I would say he looks only to insult me, but his letter was sealed and notated. Which means he has legal counsel."

Dunnel cleared his throat and asked cautiously, "So, are we going to-"

"I fear we've tarried too long here, I meant for us to stop briefly and halt the banditry that has grown so prevalent in the pass. However, this last week has us no closer to our goal. The infestation is worse than imagined. It is our duty as soldiers of the realm to eradicate this blight upon our land." Gideon was standing now, glass held before him and his other arm tucked behind his back. He glared into the country-side, almost as if he expected to see a grand army in it's fields.

Sandovak spoke up now, "Gideon, the Gypsies are far from untouchable but..."

"Olver, fetch my scribe. I wish to dictate a letter to the Merchant's Guild." Gideon finished his drink and set it on the table. "You miss my intent, Sandovak. I said we must eradicate the bandits."

Dunnel spoke up, "The fact that they are gypsies is irrelevant."

Sandovak smiled, "Just a happy coincidence is all."

# Sarife

Lydia sighed as she strolled through the streets of Salzon, a fairly quaint port city. Although she had only been here for a week or two in aimless travel, she'd grown to enjoy the place. She noticed children playing in the streets while the mother bargained with street vendors.

The way the parent neglected her children stuck a nerve inside Lydia. She watched the little girls run around making commotion, hoping to catch their mother's attention. A small frown formed on her lips.

All of a sudden the sound of a horse's hooves reached her ears. Her head turned towards where the village gates were: a young man atop of a weary looking horse charged through the streets. Lydia's eyes darted towards the innocent kids in the path of the rapidly approaching steed. She grabbed the hands of two young girls and yanked them aside. Just in time for the horse and it's rider to pass them swiftly, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

"Someone's in a hurry..." She blinked after the receding animal.

"Oh thank you!" An elderly woman sighed with relief and wrapped her arms around her daughters, "That was a close one."

"Yes..." Lydia nodded in agreement, her sight still set on the trail of dust left by the horse. She then turned towards the woman, "Do you know that man?"

"I'm afraid not." The woman crinkled her brows apologetically.

"I see." The brown eyed girl hummed with curiosity, "If you'll excuse me."

Uncharacteristically, she began to wander down the path the horse once led. Before she could step any further, a large clump of guards mounted on horses began charging just as the young man before had. Lydia immediately sensed danger and ducked into a cramped alley way and sped down the only direction it would allow. After a few minutes, she figured the scene was far enough away from her. The young woman smoothed down her silver-blue locks and searched for an exit from the dark space. Once she reached an intersection, she exhaled tiredly and turned to exit into the public streets once more.

That's when she locked eyes with a panting young man.