Constant Threat

Samantha A Tibbitts

-1 -
The Five-Faced God:

Paas: the First Face, Life

Moram: the Second Face, Death

Haraz: the Third Face, Healing

Bessar: the Fourth Face, War

Tallar: the Fifth Face, the Land and Seas of Girran

CAST OF CHARACTERS (Part 1):

GENERAL HYRAM CORSAC: Forty-three years of age. Commanding General of the 37th

Courdinian Regiment

PEREGRINE RADMAHAN: nineteen-years of age, greensoldier of House Courdaine

LEONARDO “LEON” ZLADWIJR: twenty-nine years of age, seasoned soldier of House

Courdaine

ALARIC KETZELL: nineteen-years of age, greensoldier of House Courdaine

HORATIO CHAULIAX: thirty two years of age, medic at the Highlands Camp

MALDRIC: thirteen years of age, apprentice to Chauliax

-BACKJACKET-
The first rebellion had been brutally crushed by the High King’s soldiers in its infancy.

Now, six years later, a new king had taken the Throne, and a second rebellion was on the rise,

spreading to all corners of Girran, from the deserts of Loukussa to the snow covered peaks of

the Gaulia Mountains. The flame had been lit, nurtured, and spread by the rebellious

commonfolk of Norres, a town that lay to the west of the river Guaro, and as the new faith grew

in numbers, so did the rebellions, as well the division in numbers between the Theophaneans

-2 -
and the Quintilians. The Quintialian religion, the religion that reigned supreme in the Northern

territories, struggled to put an end to the Theophanes faith, which began to steadily take root in

the South. The Houses of Dorrin, Fallor, and Gunner adopted the Theophanes Religion in

secret, long before the second rebellion was even carried out. The northern nobles of

Courdaine, Mead, and Beauton, along with the High Nobles of House Luwen, followed the five-

faced deity, a religion that the people of Girran had faithfully followed for centuries. But now the

religious tide is turning, and the Northerners found themselves in a calamity that left them

surrounded by sudden enemies, and many threats that always seem to be lurking.

-3 -
 PART ONE:
327th Year of the Chalice
8th month of the Second Theophanes Uprising

Chapter 1:
Parzan Province, Northern Territory
Battle of Korzyg Bridge
Far North, in the snowy highlands of Gaulian territory, Courdinian greensoldiers, fresh

from the training grounds of Castle Vulpes, lay camp in the nearby forests, tingling with a

mixture of nerves and excitement as the eve of their first battle dawned. These newly minted

soldiers mingled with more seasoned troops, many of which had seen their fair share of blood

and death through the fighting of countless battles. Sitting on a log, in the middle of the camp,

one such greensoldier swapped stories with and older man, who seemed to have taken the

younger soldier under his wing, teaching him all he knew in an effort to prevent him from dying

in his first battle, like the countless number of greensoldiers he had witnessed in years past.

The young man squinted through the early morning air, trying to get a glimpse of his

surroundings. His sword suddenly felt heavy, so he placed it back into the scabbard that was

lying in the grass. His shield lay next to it, and he pulled it closer towards him, admiring it and

tracing the design with his finger. He still couldn't believe it was his; and was proud to be

representing King Alistair and Queen Elspeth in such an honored way. The crossed axes of

House Courdaine lay against a background of blue and orange. For the time being, it was

unmarred and lovingly polished, the telltale signs of a soldier that had not yet seen battle.

“Leon.” He said in a low, nervous, voice to the man next to him.

“What is it Peregrine?” the man asked, glancing towards his young companion.

“Has General Corsac given the order yet?” The sounds of dying men all around him was

putting the young soldier on edge, and he fingered the dagger in his belt nervously.

-4 -
 “Any moment now, yes.” the older man said, glancing at the wooden object in his hand.

In his open palm was a small, crudely carved wooden chalice, with a small, circular cross

painted on one side in red pigment. The chalice was small enough that a man’s little finger could

barely fit inside the cup and his fingers could curl all the way around it, hiding it from view.

Peregrine fiddled nervously with the hilt of his dagger, glancing around at the other

newly trained foot soldiers. He glanced at his older companion, whose brown eyes gave

unspoken comfort to his younger comrade. The older man had seen battle before, yet nothing

as horrible and bloody as this. Having this as your first battle, however, cast everything into a

new light.

A young man with a shock of red hair ambled over to him, his outer-armour half on and

his scabbard askew on his hip. His sword was in his hand. Peregrine looked up and chuckled

when he saw him. “Hurry up Alaric. For Heaven's sake, you should have had your armour on

fifteen minutes ago.”

His friend gave a cocky grin. “Eh, it’s fine, Per. Commander said we shouldn’t be on duty

for another hour at the least. Besides, I want to enjoy as much freedom as I got left before I

strap myself in.”

Leon scoffed next to him. “Don’t be daft boy, ye’d best don your armour now. We begin

at first light.”

Alaric hesitated before nodding towards the older man. He finished strapping his

breastplate and shinguards before slipping his blade in the scabbard, adjusting it so it hung

correctly.

“Where’s your shield?” Peregrine asked.

-5 -
 “It’s over there.” Alaric pointed to a tree nearby, where his shield was leaning up against

it. “I’d best go retrieve it.” the young man ambled off, fixing his wristguards as he went.

Peregrine fidgeted, his nerves getting the best of him, and he began restlessly drumming

his fingers on the log he was sitting on. He felt a hand on his, ceasing his drumming and he

looked up to see Leon smiling at him, an the older man patted his hand kindly.

“Ye remember what I’ve taught ye lad?” the older man asked, glancing over at the young

soldier, who sighed, trying to ease his nerves.

“Of course I have.” he answered. “You’re a great mentor Leon, and you taught me well.

You’re the best mentor anyone in this regiment could have.”

The older man smiled.

“Ye’d best do me proud, Per. I’ve mentored others before, but none as good as ye. Yer a

fine one, I’ve got great hope for ye.”

Peregrine smiled and stood up, Leon’s praise adding a bolster to his step. The horn

sounded, and he looked at Leon, who was fetching his sword from where it leant against a

nearby tree. “It’s time Peregrine.” He said, looking slightly nervous himself. Peregrine knelt

before an old oak tree, and pulled his sword out of its scabbard. Placing the sword before him

on the grass, the young soldier sent a prayer towards the heavens.

May Bessar, the fourth face of Quintus, watch over and protect her soldiers, who are

fighting for her. May She and those who have come before receive with open arms those who

will give the ultimate sacrifice. May I live to see another day, and if I do, I will do all of my deeds

to serve Bessar and all the Five of the Upper Realm, and give thanks everyday for my continued

life on this earth.

-6 -
 Suddenly, the drum beat started; the staccato signaling that the young soldier and his

unit were about to ambush the fray of fighting men. The young soldier stood to retrieve his

sword from the grass. When the drumbeat reached a quickening pace, the signal to charge, he

felt as scared as a mouse facing two cats instead of one. Keeping a firm grip on his shield, he

followed his seasoned companions into the thick of the battle, praying to the Gods above that he

might make it out alive.

Almost immediately, he was met with an enemy soldier, bearing down on him with

surprising speed. The other man’s shield bore a white elm tree on a background of yellow and

gold; the emblem of House Fallor. The young soldier’s battle instincts came to him almost

immediately, and he parried the downward thrust that was aimed for his heart. Dodging another

intended blow to the ribs, he stuck his weapon into an opening in the other man’s armor. This

caught the Fallorian soldier off guard, yet did not ease the blows raining on the young soldiers

head. Jabbing at the other man's arm, in an attempt to diffuse the rhythmic strikes, he took his

sword and smashed the pommel into the helmet of the other soldier, who crumpled to the

ground almost immediately. The immediate effect shocked him a little bit, standing over his

enemy, who was knocked out cold. A man ran towards him, and without saying a word, plunged

his sword in the unconscious man’s abdomen. The man’s body convulsed a bit, and the young

soldier felt nauseous, jumping back from the dead man’s body. He felt a hand on his shoulder,

and he looked up to see Alaric, eyes alight with excitement, betraying the concerned frown on

his face. “You alright Peregrine? You look shocked, an’ a bit queasy. C’mon Per, this is what

we’ve trained for. This is our chance.” His redhaired friend grinned. “You feelin’ alright? Should I

call a medic over?” Alaric had mud on his face, and dried blood speckled his leather armour.

Peregrine shook his head, shrugging Alaric’s hand off of his shoulder. “I’m fine Al. I’m

just…”

-7 -
 “...overwhelmed?” Alaric supplied. Peregrine nodded. “Understandable.” Alaric said.

“You’ll be fine, promise me.” Peregrine nodded again, glancing down at the lifeless man in the

mud. A terrifying feeling of dominance sent a shiver down his spine, and with Alaric at his side,

the young soldier threw himself back into the fray of fighting men.

The sun was setting, but the battle showed no signs of slowing down. The ringing of

swords on armor and the screams of dying or wounded men carried long into the night, and the

meadow ran red with blood, mixing with the mud and making it slippery, and easy to fall to the

ground. Peregrine picked his way through the throng, stepping over bodies both alive and dead.

Despite the cold night, the young soldier was exhausted, and he felt sweat trickling down his

neck. Looking around him, it was hard to make out which of the soldiers were his comrades,

and which were not. The banners did little help; some were still standing, yet most were fallen,

trampled underfoot when their unarmed bannerman were cut down. A feeling of terror ran down

his spine as he realized Alaric was no longer with him. He had gotten swept up in the throng,

and must have been pulled off in a different direction; last Peregrine had seen him, he had been

fighting three soldiers at once, struggling to keep his dominance on the terrain.

Something hit him from behind. He stumbled from the force of the blow and fell. He got

up again quickly and faced his attacker, who stabbed at him again, this time with less hesitation.

Peregrine blocked it- the enemy soldier swung his sword in a slashing motion- Peregrine

ducked. The sword flashed by his ear with a whooshing sound. The young soldier straightened

up and swung his sword at his enemy with all the strength he could muster. But the other man

ducked, and it sliced through empty air. Peregrine grunted with effort and and thrust his blade

towards the man’s ribs, but the soldier dodged it and jabbed at Peregrine’s breastplate. Pain

caused the young soldier to stumble backwards in shock, and the other soldier lifted his sword

-8 -
in an arc above his head, in an attempt to finish him off. Suddenly, the man dropped his sword

and his eyes widened. Coughing up blood, he fell forwards, and the young soldier rolled out of

the way. The body fell to the ground with a sickening thump.

Leon stood there, his dagger covered in blood, a wild and crazed look in his eyes. “You

alright, Peregrine? I was lookin’ for you, and thank the Gods I came across you at the right

moment-”

The young soldier nodded his thanks and Leon stopped talking. He hesitated, taking in

the slice down the middle of his armor.

“Let’s get you up then, lad. We still got more men here. You alright?”

Peregrine nodded again, and Leon helped him up. Disorientation suddenly rushed

through him, and he swayed. Leon held both his arms, and waited until the dizziness passed.

Leon gave him what was meant to be a comforting smile. It looked more like a grimace. “Let’s

get moving lad, there’s still men here.”

Though he could feel the blood soaking through his tunic, the young soldier ignored the

painful cut on his chest and, adrenaline pumping through him, followed his friend into the

swarm.

The day dragged on, turning into night, and Leon and his young protege slew soldier

after enemy soldier as the battle wore on. Out of the corner of his eye, Peregrine saw a

comrade stumble and fall, slipping in the mud as he tried to scramble to his feet. But a Luweni

soldier saw his chance and stabbed the greensoldier in the stomach before he could. The young

man’s dying screams filled his ears, but Peregrine was in no state to help him, as he grappled

with a Bueatonese soldier for dominance on the muddy slope. The struggle was soon over, as

-9 -
Peregrine found a chink in his armour and drove his sword through his neck. The man fell,

lifeless, into the mud, and Peregrine sidestepped him as he ran to help Leon, who was still

fighting a Luweni soldier. But he was too far away, and he was forced to watch helplessly as the

soldier fighting Leon gained the upper hand, and swung his blade towards the older man. The

blade caught Leon in the abdomen, cutting him deep across the stomach. Leon grunted and fell

forwards onto the grass, yet the soldier didn’t do anything, just stood and watched his enemy’s

lifeblood seeping onto the grass, a look of satisfied smugness on his face.

The young soldier gave an anguished scream, and all previous caution was replaced

with fury. Grabbing his sword, the young soldier lunged at the Fallorian soldier, who, still

foolishly basking in his own glory, was caught off guard. Thrusting his weapon at the soldier with

all the strength in his body, the already dented armor did little to stop the trajectory of the blade,

and the sword pierced the soldier’s chest, going straight through his heart.

The Fallorian soldier coughed up blood, and glanced up at the young soldier, his eyes

widened in disbelief. His eyes glazed over, and the young soldier could see the light leaving

them, still transfixed on him as the soldiers life extinguished. Pulling his sword out of the dying

man, Peregrine rushed towards his own fallen comrade, hearing a sickening thump as the man

he had just killed fell towards the blood soaked grass.

The young soldier gently rolled his friend over, and felt around Leon’s stomach for any

way to staunch his lifeblood. Leon’s trembling hand stopped him from doing anything.

“Don’t.” the soldier rasped, grasping the young soldier’s trembling hands in his own. “I’ve

not a lot of time left here. Just stay with me, so that when I go, I have somebody by my side who

I know will not forget me.”

-10-
 Grief overwhelmed Peregrine, and around them, the noise of the fighting men seemed to

fade as Peregrine focused on his dying friend. “I won’t forget you.” he promised. “You have

been a wonderful teacher, and friend. You’ve been the family I never had.”

“You have a bright future ahead of you lad. Don’t waste it on this. The life of a soldier is

cold and bleak, and at any possible moment, someone could turn and betray you. The life of a

soldier amounts to nothing. Kill or be killed. Those are the only two options, until, one day, your

luck will run out, and you will be like me, heading towards the pearly gates of Naussambre,

waiting to be judged by the Gods for a life of killing.” Both soldiers fell silent, one feeling his

lifeblood trickling away by each second. “Take this.” Leon thrust something into the younger

man’s hands, closing his palm around it. “Remember me with it, and do good with yer life. I will

watch over ye always.” the hands clasped around his own seemed to weaken and the young

soldier glanced at his dying comrade. A tear slipped down his cheek, and Leon smiled at him

one more time. “Go fight for me, lad. I will be there next to ye every step of the way.”

Leon’s breathing grew shallow, and the young soldier grasped his hand, squeezing it

one last time. But Leon did not respond, and when the young soldier looked up, he saw that his

good friend had slipped away, the light from his eyes forever extinguished. The young soldier

drew his hand over them, gently closing Leon’s eyes, to make it look as if he were sleeping.

Moram, Moram, why must you do this to me? You’ve already taken away one family,

why take the other?

But the heavens were silent, and the Second Face gave no answer. Grief filled him, and

it took all he had not to open his mouth and scream with all the anguish and pain coursing

through his body. The young soldier felt numbness spread through him. A pair of hands grabbed

him by the armpits and pulled him to his feet.

-11-
 “Get up, Peregrine, we’ve no time.”

Peregrine made no effort to look at Alaric, instead staring mournfully at Leon’s body. His

legs gave way under him, and Alaric grabbed him around the torso, preventing him from falling.

“Per, I don’t mean to be gruff, but we’ve no time to grieve now. Later, once the battle is

over, yes, we will have time. But not now. Now is not a good time. Snap out of it.”

The haze that seemed to be muddling his senses lifted off of him, and the frenzy of the

battle came back to his ears. His legs were sturdy and he regained his balance. Alaric let go.

“That’s better, eh?” He said encouragingly, and Peregrine could hear the smile on his face.

“C’mon, the numbers won’t go down on their own. We got to pitch our weight.”

Peregrine nodded and Leon’s words echoed in his head. “Go fight for me, lad. I will be

there next to ye every step of the way.”

Alaric slapped Peregrine on the back. “Let’s go kill those bastards.”

-12-
 Chapter 2:
Eunice Province, Western Territory
The Battle of Hrothgar Lake

The Battle for Korzyg Bridge had been a decisive victory for House Mead and its ally

House Courdaine, but Leon’s death still weighed heavy on Peregrine’s conscious. Alaric had

done his best to cheer his friend up, but in the end he decided it most appropriate to give him

space, and allow him the traditional three day mourning period, as they marched from the

Courdinian Territory of Gaulia in the North to the North-western Territory of Eunice, belonging to

House Beauton. They had met with the mixed forces of House Fallor and House Gunner at

Hoarch Lake. The Battle had been going on since mid-day, and the sun had given way to a

gloomy and overcast sky. Little progress was being made on either side, and Peregrine could

feel his confidence dwindling.

“Alaric!” Peregrine saw a soldier of House Gunner charging at his friend, who was

engrossed in fighting off a Fallorian soldier. Peregrine rushed to intervene, and managed to get

a few blows on the his padded shoulder, but the more experienced soldier nimbly cut his face

and the young soldier dropped his sword as his face exploded in pain, clutching at his right

cheek. A swift kick to the knees caused his legs to give way, and he found himself flat on his

back in the mud. Alaric tried to help his friend, but the enemy soldier got there quicker. The

young soldier had to roll out of the way to avoid being stabbed through the arm, and he

scrambled to grab his blade from the grass. The Gunnerian soldier kicked it, sending it skidding

away, and the young soldier felt the pit in his stomach widen, and he could feel despair yawning

in his face.

“Peregrine!” Alaric yelled, and the young soldier turned to see the Beautonese soldier

lifting his boot. The young soldier tried to move out of the way, but the man was faster, and the

boot met his right arm, and Peregrine let out a howl of pain.

-13-
 Suddenly, the soldier stumbled, and Peregrine looked up to see the end of a blade

protruding from his stomach. The man’s eyes widened and he coughed up blood before falling

on the grass, clutching his abdomen. Alaric, stood over him, a satisfactory grin on his face as he

glanced at his fallen enemy. His gaze returned to Peregrine’s and fear returned to his face.

The pain was too much, and Peregrine’s head was swimming. He tried to move but he

couldn’t, and pain spasmed through his body. His vision began blurring, and he heard Alaric

calling for a Medic to come remove him from the battlefield. Leon felt hands tugging at his

pauldrons, but at his anguished and pain-filled protest, the medic called over the strong

Carryman to move him without hurting him further. Peregrine felt himself lifted off the ground

and the darkness overcame him, and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

Peregrine’s head was pounding when he came to, and he had barely looked around

before the pain returned to his face, reminding him of the deep gash on his cheek. It was still

bleeding, but not as much as before, and the pain in his arm almost made him black out again.

He felt nauseous. The field camp was buzzing with activity, and the noise was giving him a

headache. Men in various states of injury were lying around him. The few soldiers who had

survived relatively unscathed were making conversation with their more wounded comrades, to

provide as a distraction while waiting for the medics, who were up to their necks in wounded

patients, bandages, and broken limbs. A scream of agony and broken sobs rose from a group of

men clustered near the trees; a severely wounded soldier was undergoing amputation, while

two other soldiers assisted the medic in holding him down.

-14-
 Time dragged on, and it was a long wait until a worn out and exhausted man

approached him, a bag in one hand and his equally exhausted apprentice trotting behind him.

His red wrist tattoo identified him as one of the five field medics on duty at the Highland Camp.

The older man took one look at him and sighed when he glimpsed his arm. “The tactics

those barbarians use these days.” The medic shook his head. “I’ve seen worse.” he said to

Peregrine, as if expecting an answer from him. Peregrine found his mouth too dry to say

anything, and at his silence, the older man promptly fussed over him, removing his chest plating

after seeing the deep cut in his armor. The medic cut away at the thick undertunic to more

closely examine the wound. By the man’s frown, it looked worse than both of them had been

expecting, yet when the young soldier craned his neck to see, the man shifted his body to block

it view. He waved over the young boy that had been standing nearby waiting for instructions,

and the apprentice stifled a yawn and scampered over. He made a face when he saw

Peregrine’s wound.

“Maldric, hold this linen for me.” the man instructed, removing various supplies from his

bag. The medic went to work cleaning the stab wound in the young soldier’s abdomen,

occasionally pausing to switch tools or asking Maldric to grab something. The pain was

overwhelming, but it was quickly over, and the medic wrapped the young soldier’s torso with

linen strips.

“There we go, that’s all taken care of.” the Medic said, smiling at Peregrine. He must be

mad, Peregrine thought, to still be cheery in an environment such as this.

His torso taken care of, the medic cut away at Peregrine’s sleeve to look at his arm and

to assess the damage. He sucked in a breath when the arm was exposed. The blood had dried,

and the top of his arm was a deep purple. The medic sat and stared at his arm for a few

-15-
seconds, as if he was unsure of what to do. The medic tapped his hand gently with his knuckles.

“Can you feel it when I do this?” He asked Peregrine.

Peregrine shook his head, glancing worriedly at the medic. “I’ve no feeling in my arm. I

won’t lose it, will it?” Peregrine asked.

The medic shook his head, and Peregrine breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s not as bad as I

feared; but I still have to check your arm, to see where it is broken. This will hurt.” He warned

him.

Peregrine nodded and gritted his teeth. The medic felt his arm up and down, probing it to

feel where the bones were broken. Peregrine bore the pain with gritted teeth and tightly closed

eyes, letting out a pain-filled groan now and then. The medic let go of his arm, his examination

finished, and Peregrine opened his eyes to see the Medic glancing back at him with a serious

gaze. “Your arm is broken, that’s the obvious part. How broken, I can’t be sure, but it is broken

in three or four spots. The soldier did his work well.” He chuckled grimly. “Anyways, I am going

to have to set your arm, and bind it so it can heal properly.”

Peregrine nodded. The Medic reached into his bag, and taking out two wooden boards,

and several leather straps, setting them aside next to him. He turned to the young boy next to

him. “Maldric, go get some men to hold him down. three would suffice. Quick as you can.” the

boy nodded and ran off, returning minutes later with three soldiers.

The Medic ordered two of them to hold his legs, to keep Peregrine from accidentally

kicking him, and the third held his uninjured arm. The Medic set to work splinting Peregrine’s

arm, Maldric assisting him as he did so. The pain was unbearable, and Peregrine let out a

muffled cry of pain, gritting his teeth and jerking his body as if he could somehow get away from

the pain searing his arm. The three soldiers grunted as they held his body down. The Medic

-16-
probed his arm again, this time with much more force, to straighten the broken bones, and pain

gripped his arm like a vice, causing Peregrine to cry out again.

When the ordeal was over, the two wooden planks on either side of his arm were lashed

together by four leather straps, rendering his right arm immobile. “This will only be used until the

bones were healed correctly.” the medic had said, when he had finished splinting his arm. He

dismissed the three soldiers, thanking them for their help, before instructing Peregrine on what

to do and not to do while he had the splint on.

“I’ll leave you here for a bit, and Maldric will come check on you, and report to me if

anything has gotten worse.”

Peregrine nodded and thanked the older man. The Medic sighed and nodded, and

picking up his supplies he made his way towards the Draggers, who were still bringing in men,

both wounded and lifeless, from the battlefield.

“Peregrine! Thank the Gods I’ve found you. I’ve been wandering for ages looking for

you.” Alaric appeared in Peregrine’s field of vision, and he nodded in the direction the medic had

left. “I see Chauliax cleaned you up. Was that you howling five minutes ago? It sounded like

you. Anyways, how are you feeling?” Alaric came and sat next to Peregrine, and relief flooded

him to see his friend alive and well. “I’m better, thank you Alaric. My arm burns like hellfire, but it

will be better in a fortnight, so thank the Gods for that. How are you faring?”

Alaric shrugged. “Better than you, I suppose. I feel it safe to say that much. Not much

more than a few scratches on my arms, but I did get a nasty cut on my arm, but Hargraves

cleaned that one up for me.” He pointed to a large bandage encircling his upper left arm. “This

was in Leon’s hand when the Draggers removed him from the field. I snatched it up before

anyone else noticed it. He would’ve wanted you to have it, Per, I know that much. I’m sorry I

-17-
didn’t give it to you sooner, I just knew you were in pain and I didn’t want to make it worse. I

hope you understand. Here.”

Alaric dropped something in Peregrine’s hand, and Peregrine glanced at it. A mite-sized

chalice carved from oak lay in his hand, the circular, four pointed cross painted in red pigment.

He smiled. “Thanks Al.”

“No problem.”

Peregrine examined the chalice, and Leon’s voice echoed in his head.

“I am your family- families never abandon each other. Never fear, I will always be with

you, guiding you through the darkest of places. But do not live this life forever. Make your own

path, carve your own destiny. I will watch over your always, wherever you go, and whatever

path you choose.”

-18-
CAST OF CHARACTERS:

LADY MIRRANDA: eighteen years old, Princess of House Courdaine. Betrothed to Lord William

of House Beauton

LORD WILLIAM: Aged twenty, prince and heir to the High Seat of House Beauton. Betrothed to

Lady Mirranda of House Courdaine.

AVRAM BEAUTON: eighteen years old, ward to Horatio and Isabelle Beauton and adopted

brother to William

LADY ALEXANDRA: Mirranda’s nineteen year old sister. Betrothed to Lord Victor of House

Luwen

LORD ROBBERT: Mirranda’s brother, aged twenty. Prince and heir to the High Seat of House

Courdaine

LORD ALISTAIR: Patriarch and ruler of House Courdaine, Husband to Lady Elspeth

LADY ELSPETH: Wife of Lord Alistair, Matriarch of House Courdaine

LORD HORATIO: Patriarch and ruler of House Beauton, husband of Lady Isabelle and Father

to William Beauton

LADY ISABELLE: Wife of Lord Horatio, Matriarch of House Beauton and Mother to William

Beauton

LORD VICTOR: Son of High King Fannar, prince of the Quintilian Throne and betrothed to Lady

Alexandra of House Courdaine

HIGH KING FANNAR: formerly Lord Haareth of House Luwen, whose name changed upon

ascension to the Northern Throne

HIGH KING AREVIK: formerly Lord Jiraek of House Gunnar, whose name changed upon

ascension to the Southern/Theopanes Throne

-19-
 PART TWO:
Six Years after the Theophanes Uprising
330th Year of the Chalice
Sixth Year of the Sun

Chapter 3:
Paarthin Castle
Gaulia Province, Northern Territory

- Mirranda Elianna Courdaine -

Mirranda dashed down the hallway, ignoring her mother’s warning to walk more like a

lady. She had been meaning to write the letter all day, and now with Donta Trenai sick and her

needlework class cancelled, she finally had time. Mirranda called out a quick greeting to her

friend Katya, who appeared to be heading to the library, but didn’t bother to stop and make

conversation.

“Mirranda!” Alexandra called, and Mirranda slowed down to a walk and looked behind

her.

“What is it?” she asked, pausing to let her older sister catch up to her, trying not to let

her impatience seep into her voice.

“Mother said I need to take you to the seamstress’ shop later today to get your dress

fitted. She said she has too many things to do, and that I’m the only person who can take you.”

Mirranda groaned. “Fine. but not now. I have a letter to write that I’ve been meaning to

get to all day.”

Alexandra grinned. “Is it to William?”

“Of course it’s to William. Why on earth would it be to anyone else?”

-20-
 Alexandra shrugged. “I don’t know why I asked. Victor and I wrote almost daily when we

were first engaged. I won’t keep you waiting.” she said smiling. “Go write that letter and we’ll go

into town later this afternoon.”

“Thank you.” Mirranda said. She bade Alexandra goodbye before hurrying down the hall

and up a stairway until she reached her bedroom. Unearthing parchment and ink from her

dresser, she sat down at the writing desk, admiring the clear afternoon sky through the window

before returning her attention to the blank parchment in front of her.

My dearest William,

I have been waiting to see you for so long, and I cannot believe that it

is only a week before you finally arrive! I pray that your journey to

Northampton will be one void of mishaps, and that you arrive at the

castle safely. I received your letter the other day, the one talking about

the Plainshield troupe that landed in Malthos Harbour in Greenpool.

How interesting. Did your father request more troops to fill the

soldiers ranks? We have not heard about any plainshields in our area

(not yet anyways), but we did have a new recruitment of soldiers arrive

-21-
from Contu the other day off Davos Port. Perhaps they are of the same

mercenary group that arrived so suddenly in Malthos. Robbert was

telling me about the rebellion that started in Western Lokussa

yesterday. Sadly, it is now in full swing, but praise the Lord, no one has

been killed because of it. Well, not yet anyways, but I doubt it will stay

like that. Why do you think they are so upset with King Arevik? I don’t

think that he’s been doing anything wrong with his new policies in

place. Well, I might have that mindset because they’re not affecting us

at all, since we are so far North and they are in the South, but I

wouldn’t think that a policy asking for more voluntary recruits for

their infantry would raise that many questions. I know you’re going to

tell me not to bother with this, since I’ve no reason to ask questions

about politics, but you know how I can be, I find this kind of thing

fascinating, and I know one day you’ll understand. Robbert chuckles at

-22-
 this, and he gets me all the information he can, without mother finding

out. She says politics and government is no place for a woman. I

disagree. I think it’s important to know about the running of Girran,

especially when it has to do with the High King, and what he has to say

on the matter.

Anyways, enough of my rambling. I cannot wait to see you in person,

finally, after corresponding through letter for the last seven months.

May the Lord protect your travels.

All my love,

Mirranda

Mirranda folded and sealed the letter, and after finding a pageboy roaming aimlessly

around the hall, tasked him with sending the letter to Cormunk, quick as he could.

The boy disappeared down the hall, just as Robbert turned a corner and walked towards

her.

-23-
 “There you are Mirranda. Have you written to William?” he asked, his gaze following the

pageboy as he made his way towards the stairwell. He turned back to her.

Mirranda sensed amusement in her brother’s voice. “Yes, I have.”

“And my guess is that you talked about the uprising in West Lokussa.” He grinned at his

sister’s sheepish look. “I had a feeling you would. I can see what mother means when she

scolds you about such things. You embroil yourself too much in matters that should not concern

you.” He sighed at her annoyed glare. “I guess there is no stopping you. If you would like, I can

tell you what happens at my cabinet meeting with Father’s advisors next Saturday.”

Mirranda grinned. “I would like nothing more.” She could barely contain her excitement.

“Mother won’t be happy about it; she thinks you involve yourself too much in politics. If

you paid half as much attention to your needlework as you did to politics, you’d be able to cover

all the walls of the castle with your embroidery. She’ll have me by the skin of my feet. So you

had better not tell anyone.”

“Of course not Robbert- you know I don’t ever tell anyone.”

“Robbert.” Alexandra came up behind him and glanced at Mirranda. “You’d better not be

encouraging Mirranda in politics- you know that’s none of her concern.”

“Politics have never interested you, Alexandra. But she likes them. It’s best to fuel one’s

interests, instead of dampening the flame.”

“Very poetic Robbert.” Alexandra said dryly. “Don’t you have work to be doing?”

“I finished at the armory with Don Yarvel an hour ago. And Mirranda’s sewing lessons

were cancelled because Donta Trenai is sick with the Pox.”

-24-
 “As are half the other staff, unfortunately. Don Kaslow must have brought back the pox

to the castle when he travelled into town the other day.” Alexandra said. “Anyways, father has

requested your presence at the training yard. Mother needs me to take Mirranda into town to get

the dress she is wearing for the Betrothal Ceremony.”

Mirranda stifled a groan. She glared at the floor. “But it’s still two weeks away. Do we

have to go now?”

“Yes.” Alexandra answered her sternly. “Now come along. We haven’t all day.”

Five days had passed since Mirranda had sent her letter, and William had yet to

respond. Alexandra had surmised that this meant his family was traveling now, and she told

Mirranda to stop worrying. But Mirranda received a letter the following day, which she gleefully

showed to Alexandra when the pageboy delivered it while they were walking in the gardens.

Alexandra laughed, and her mother shooed her to her room so she could read the letter

privately.

My dearest Mirranda:

I look forward to seeing you in a few day’s time. I read your last letter with much

interest, and the Plainshields in Malthos have so far posed no threat to us, so we have

simply been sending out a few soldiers that have been following their movements daily. As

you well know, the Plainshields typically don’t show up in an area unless someone has

conscripted them for any reason, but my father never sent for any, so the reason they

-25-
have come to Greenpool is confusing. It pleases me how much of a liking you have taken to

politics, as I am rather averse to the subject, and I tend to avoid it during the cabinet

meetings. Only the Lord knows why, and he’s probably as confused as Father is with me. We

are on our way to the Castle, and have stopped for the night at a small Inn. It is quite

nicer than most Inns and resthouses, and the Innkeeper knows us well. I look forward to

seeing you in a few days.

All my Love,

William

Mirranda grinned and re-read the letter, placing it on her dresser. She opened the

topmost dresser drawer, where she kept all the letters William had sent her. Each were tied with

a blue ribbon of differing shades, as William knew that blue was her favorite color.

She smiled as she touched the ribbons, enjoying the soft texture of them against the

rougher parchment that was bound in a tight roll. Now that William was actually on his way to

the castle, it still felt hard to believe, and half the time, Mirranda felt like she was floating on

clouds, and would pinch herself to make sure she was not dreaming.

Mirranda looked out the window and into the gardens, where Alexandra and their mother

were walking arm in arm, clearly engrossed in conversation. The sky was a brilliant blue, the

same color as the ribbon that was tied around WIlliam’s most recent letter. Just over the trees,

Mirranda could see Robbert sparring with one of the soldiers in the training yard, Captain Harish

-26-
standing off to one side, and the King to the other, watching them. From where she stood, on

the second floor, Mirranda had an eagle’s eye view of the Castle Grounds, and this was why

she saw the woman running up to the Gardens long before Alexandra and the Queen heard her

rushed footsteps. The serving maid was hurrying towards them, clasping a letter in one hand,

with an anxious look on her face. She dipped into a quick curtsey before handing the letter to

the Queen, who read it hurriedly, Alexandra peering over her shoulder to read it as well. The

pair looked at each other, and then, first Alexandra, then the Queen glanced up at Mirranda’s

window, both with the same worried look on their faces. When they saw her watching them, they

both quickly looked away, heads bent together as they talked. As Mirranda watched, Alexandra

nodded to the Queen and began hurrying towards the castle, glancing quickly up at Mirranda’s

window as she did. Mirranda’s blood ran cold. There could only be one possible reason as to

why a letter sent to the Castle would have concerned her, and it had to be with regards to the

only person she held dear to her heart that was not with her right now.

Mirranda hurried out of her room and down the steps to meet her sister, her breath

coming in ragged gasps. She was running down the hallway when Alexandra rushed towards

her and intercepted her.

“I want to see the letter.” Mirranda demanded, tears blurring her vision. She fought to get

past her sister but Alexandra’s grip was stronger. “Let me go!”

“Mirranda I can’t. There’s nothing you can do. He’s already gone.”

“What do you mean he’s already gone? He can’t be, that’s not possible. Just give me the

letter-”

“You’ve worked yourself into a state; you must calm yourself-”

-27-
 “Give me the letter Alexandra! William might be hurt somewhere and I need to know-”

“Mirranda stop shouting, please. I can hear you from a mile off. What in the Lord’s name

is going on?”

They both turned to see Robbert coming towards them, and having taken in the sight of

Mirranda’s tear streaked face, he must have surmised something had happened. “What is going

on? Is it Mother-”

“It’s William, Robbert.” Alexandra said. “Something’s happened-”

“-And I don’t know what’s happened, because Alexandra won’t give me the letter-”

“-because you’ve worked yourself into a state, Mirranda. You need to calm yourself-”

“-give her the letter Alexandra.” Robbert ordered. “She won’t calm down otherwise, and

she needs to know what’s happened.”

“Do you know?” Alexandra asked in surprise.

“Heavens no. I heard Mirranda’s shouting from the yard, and I came to see what was

going on. I’m glad neither of you are hurt-”

“Thank you Robbert, but William might be, and I need to know what’s happening-

where's the letter Alexandra?”

Alexandra procured the letter from the folds of her dress and handed it to her sister.

Mirranda unrolled it and read it hurriedly. It had been written two days ago, by the

innkeeper of the San Paolo Inn in Greenpool.

-28-
 My dear Lord and Lady Courdaine;

It is with great sorrow that I announce the deaths of King Horatio

and Queen Isabelle of House Beauton. Around half past midnight of

yesterday evening, three men who were booked at the Inn of San Paolo

disappeared, and the King and Queen were found dead in their chambers. We

discovered this when a page boy was sent to fetch them, when they didn’t

appear downstairs when it was time for their departure. Their son is

nowhere to be found, and it appears he may have been taken by the men that

possibly killed the King and Queen. We know not where they have taken him.

Due to the knowledge of your daughter’s betrothal to their son, I

figured it best to sent this straight to you.

My condolences to you and your family during this time.

-29-
 Bartholomew Lockwood, Innkeeper

Mirranda suddenly felt unsteady on her feet, and she sat down on a seat nearby. All her

previous sadness was gone, instead replaced by a feeling of emptiness. She stared at the wall,

her mind blank and she could feel her brother and sister standing nearby, both unsure of what

to say or do. Finally, Robbert broke the silence.

“Mirranda, do you need one of us to fetch mother?” He asked tentatively.

“No.”

Alexandra and Robbert fell silent at Mirranda’s terse reply. “I’m going to my room.”

Mirranda announced. “I don’t feel well right now, so don’t expect me down for dinner.”

“We’ll let mother know.” Alexandra said quietly.

-30-
 CHAPTER 4:

Mirranda looked out the window again, then glanced sadly over to the dresser, where

William’s most recent letter lay unrolled, the ribbon next to it. She had read it two, even three

times, wishing more than ever that he was standing besides her. Now he was somewhere in

Girran, God knows where, captured by three men who might be out to kill him. They easily could

kill him; his parents were already dead. Mirranda found herself too worried to stand still, so she

paced around her room. But he’s the Crown Prince of Beautonese throne. He’s worth something

to them. They can’t kill him; he’s too valuable, and there’ll be a price on their head if they do.

Which means he’s still alive, maybe I could do something about it. I’ve got a chance to get out of

here, away from…

Mirranda stopped pacing and went to her dresser, snatching up the letter and ribbon, as

well as the satchel of coins her mother had given her when she and Alexandra had gone into

town the other day. She still hadn’t given it back, and now she wasn’t planning to. Mirranda

hurried around the room to grab a few other things before leaving, and she headed downstairs

in the direction of the armory.

“Mirranda said she won’t be appearing for dinner, Mother.” Alexandra said, looking up

from her book. The Queen stopped her needlework and looked at her. Robbert glanced over

too.

“Are you sure Mirranda’s okay, Alexandra?” Queen Elspeth asked. “She ought to be very

worried about William. I hope she keeps her senses and doesn't carry out any rash ideas.”

“I wouldn’t put her past that.” Robbert said. “She thinks with her heart, not her brain, and

Mirranda does foolish things when she’s upset.” He frowned.

-31-
 “She does...” Alexandra trailed off and jumped to her feet. She hurriedly excused herself

and made her way to the door.

“Where are you going?” Robbert asked.

“I have to go check on her.”

“Let me go with you.”

“All right then.” Alexandra held the door open.

“I take it we just realized the same thing.” Robbert said, once they were out of Lady

Elspeth’s earshot.

“Yes, we did. And I pray it’s not true.”

With Robbert on her heels, Alexandra hurried down the hallway towards the Western

wing of the castle, and up a flight of stairs. Mirranda’s bedroom door was ajar, and Alexandra’s

stomach lurched.

“Mirranda.” Robbert knocked on the door. There was no answer.

Sunlight streamed through her window, onto her wrinkly but otherwise empty bed. The

quilt was wrinkled, and a few dresser drawers were half open. Mirranda was not there. Robbert

swore under his breath.

“Robbert, please, for heaven's sake.”

Robbert cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

They stood in the doorway for a bit longer before entering the room.

“These are a lot of letters.” Robbert commented. Alexandra looked over to see him

glancing in a dresser drawer.

She looked over his shoulder. All the letters were neatly rolled up, each tied with a blue

ribbon and arranged in an orderly fashion.

“They must be from William.” Alexandra said. “I think she’s kept all the ones he’s sent

her.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

-32-
 “I know Robbert, but this isn’t the time to focus on that.”

“Right, sorry.” Robbert closed the drawer.

Alexandra looked around the room, before noticing the stark bedside table. “Robbert, the

satchel is gone.”

“Really? The one that mother gave us just the other day?”

“Yes. I was in here the other day, and I noticed it. I was wondering why she still had it,

but I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask her.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter much anymore. It’s gone now.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?”

“What do you think I mean, Alexandra?” Robbert asked, exasperation seeping into his

voice. “I know you were hoping that this weren’t the case, that you would find Mirranda curled

up in her bed-”

“I was hoping she’d be here, not-”

“-not run off somewhere-”

“-exactly.”

Alexandra and Robbert both fell silent.

“I hope she brought warmer things with her. And her dagger. And some food-”

“She’s smarter than you give her credit for.” Robbert said. “She’ll have thought of all that.

And more. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she brought an actual sword with her.”

Alexandra cleared her throat and gave him a pointed look.

“Yep yep, language. Sorry.”

“You spend too much time with the soldiers.”

“You seem to have a problem with that. Either way, that is not any concern of yours dear

sister.”

-33-
 “Oh do be quiet.” Alexandra said. She thought for a moment. “It’s not supposed to snow

until later this month, so Mirranda should be fine with the clothes she’s got on, and she appears

to have taken clothing with her. Not too many, but at least her cloak’s gone, so that’s good.”

“And if she does find herself in need of garments, she has coins with her-”

“-do you remember how much was in the satchel?” Alexandra asked.

“I’d say two-hundred silver shillings at the least. Maybe two-eighty.” Robbert figured. “I

don’t remember.”

A moment or two passed before Alexandra spoke again.

“So what do we do now?”

“What else can we do? We’ll inform mother and father, father will send out a search

party to look for her, and Mirranda will in heaps of trouble when she gets back.” Robbert sighed.

“Foolish, foolish girl. She doesn’t understand what she’s doing, and she knows it.”

“She’s just trying to find William.”

“Exactly. That’s all she’s thinking about right now. But she has no way of knowing where

he is. Or what state he’ll be in when she finds him- if she finds him-”

“-or who he’s with. Those men-”

“Yes, and I’ll wager you a copper shilling that it hasn’t even crossed her mind yet.”

Robbert let out a groan of frustration. “She expects to find him alive and well, and she wants to

find him and take him back here. She wants to be his hero. But what if she finds him dead?”

“She’ll not be expecting that.”

“Exactly. Then what? She’ll be all alone, heartbroken, and she’ll definitely not want to

leave him and come home.”

“She’s not mentally preparing herself.”

“Not at all. She’s not playing every possible scenario in her head. She’s not thinking this

through. And that’s what will get her in trouble.” Robbert began pacing around the room. He

stopped and looked at Alexandra.

-34-
 “I have to go after her.” He said.

Alexandra was expecting this reaction from Robbert. “Absolutely not.” she said firmly.

“You can’t. Father won’t let you go.”

“I have to!” Robbert raised his voice in frustration.

“Robbert- think for a moment-“

“I am thinking Alexandra. Once they know she’s of no royal blood they’ll do away with

her in an instant! I cannot-we cannot-let that happen.”

“But she doesn’t know that.” Alexandra said.

“Yes that’s true but-“

“And how do you suppose you’re to stop this? They’ll kill you too. And I can’t go out

because…”

“I know. Because you are bloodborn, not like the two of us. Father will never let you past

the bridge without at least twenty soldiers by your side.”

“Talk to him. It’s worth a chance. You’ve got a better chance than I do, and-“

“-and I can prove myself as a worthy heir.”

“Robbert.” Alexandra sighed, sensing his distress. “You’ve done that many times over.

There’s no need.”

“How do you know? You’ve never seen how he regards me during council meetings.

Whenever I try to say something about the finances or about the lands and our people, he

always interrupts me or talks over me. Even the other lords notice it, but they don’t dare say

anything to him.”

“Really?”

Robbert nodded. “He’s never said once that he’s proud of me. Not even last winter,

when I tracked down the wolf that killed Donta Lysara’s baby, and shot an arrow through its

skull. Donta Lysara implored Alistair to do something about it, but what did he do? Sit in the

Great Room and stew about his own feelings on the matter. I was there. I saw his reaction. I

-35-
was the one to talk; reassuring Lysara something would be done about it. Father didn't even

speak to her. He just dismissed her when he felt the matter was closed. Even I was offended he

would do something like that. Lysara’s husband looked as if he wanted to box his head in. I’ve

never seen him so mad. And after I killed the wolf? What do you think Lord Alistair did when I

informed him? He berated me for putting myself in danger. He said the soldiers could have

handled it. And then with a wave of his hand, he dismissed me, like he’s done with so many of

his other subjects.”

“Father will come around.” Alexandra said.

“Really? Don’t tell me you believe that lie.” Robbert said, a look of disgust on his face. “I

gave up looking for his approval after that.”

“He’s never said he was proud of me either. But why would he? I would never go and

hunt a wolf down by myself and kill it. I’m not brave enough to do that. I’m proud of you Robbert.

I always have been.”

Robbert smiled as he made his way to the door. “Why thank you Alexandra. I really

appreciate that. Now, if you would like to come with me, come now, before Mother sends

Corinne looking for us. I’ve got a hunch about that sister of ours. If she’s as smart as we give

her credit for, then I will have been right all along.”

The Armory was cold and drafty, and they made their way to the back wall where the

swords, shields, and other weapons were stored. “How does she know how to use a bow and

arrow?” Alexandra asked, suddenly sounding very suspicious. Robbert glanced over at

Alexandra, who was giving him the same expression Lady Elspeth did whenever Mirranda

attempted to bring up politics at the dinner table.

-36-
 “Don’t give me that look Alexandra. I gave her a few lessons. There’s really no harm to

it” Robbert admitted, hearing the scoff from Alexandra. He turned to look at her. “I knew you

would do that.”

“She’s taken a sword too.” Alexandra said. “Smart girl.”

“Viggon’s shield is gone.” Robbert said, casting a quick glance around the back room.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been around the soldiers long enough to know whose shield is whose. But you were

complaining about that earlier-”

“That was different. This time you’re actually being helpful.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear the hidden insult, and just go for the sliver of praise that I

could dig out of that sentence.” Robbert said, smirking.

“Oh be quiet.” Alexandra huffed.

Lord Alistair sat down in frustration, still trying to digest the news of Mirranda’s running

away. He glanced up at Robbert, obviously annoyed, especially when Robbert had announced

his decision to go after her. “Robbert, what do you propose me to do? I will not send you out, or

your sister after her. Mirranda has knowingly placed herself in harm's way; she will have to deal

with the consequences.”

“You’re leaving your own daughter to fend for herself in this monstrous world? She’s

never been past Harijsmil, which is not even thirty miles from here.”

“Well, once she gets past our lines, there’s not much I can do.”

-37-
 “You know full well where Mirranda is going.” Robbert said, growing frustrated at Lord

Alistair’s seemingly unconcerned attitude. “But then again, she’s not your daughter anyways,

why would you care?” Robbert knew his attitude could get him in trouble, but he didn’t care.

“Watch your tone, boy.” Lord Alistair warned him. Lady Elspeth glanced at her husband

before turning to Robbert.

“When did you learn about this?” She asked. Her refusal to even deny Robbert’s

accusations was enough to made him laugh out loud. But he held his composure, instead

glancing at Alexandra, who nodded encouragingly from where she stood closer to the door. He

took a deep breath before speaking, looking straight at Lord Alistair the whole time. “I’ve read

the annals, and I know more about my heritage than you’ve ever cared to teach me. My mother

was Zara Araz, a young woman who I soon came to learn was under the protection of your

father, Lord Asvik. She died giving birth to a daughter- who I can only surmise to be Mirranda-

who like me, was taken to be a ward under your household. Mirranda still has no idea that she

is of commoner blood, I shall see to it that it remains this way until her marriage to William.”

“Who told you about this?” Lord Alistair asked, his voice dangerously quiet. His casual

glance over to where Alexandra was standing near the door suddenly infuriated Robbert further.

“No one did. I found this out myself. I was in Lysos, overseeing the grain storage

because you were too busy getting drunk to do so yourself.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Robbert saw Alexandra shaking her head frantically, and he

stopped talking. Lord Alistair stood at once, grabbed his half empty wine glass, and without

warning, hurled it the wall above Alexandra, who shrieked and crouched to the ground

immediately. Robbert flinched and glared at Lord Alistair, feeling his anger heighten as

Alexandra’s shrieks replayed in his ears.

“Watch your damned tongue boy, or I will cut it out.” Lord Alistair looked ready to throw

him out of the room, but he thought better of it when lady Elspeth murmured something to him.

He nodded reluctantly and sat back down. Robbert looked at Alexandra, who had shakily gotten

-38-
back to her feet, but was still very pale. She nodded at Robbert. Robbert glanced at both of

them before speaking again, choosing his words carefully. “I overheard someone talking about a

young woman of the village, who had died years ago in childbirth. He was remarking how the

Lord of the Castle came for her two children; a four year old son and the three month old

daughter. Apparently, the Lord deemed the woman’s father unfit to care for his own daughter’s

children, and they were never seen again.”

“So how did you figure out that the person was talking about you and Mirranda.”

“I’m not stupid you know.”

Alistair glared at him warningly. Robbert paused and started over.

“You’re the Lord of the Castle, and have been ever since Lord Asvik died twelve years

ago. Unless you killed the boy and girl you took into the castle, there could be no other reason

why it wouldn’t be me and Mirranda. Alexandra would have had to be at least two, and Mirranda

and I are four years apart. You needed a male heir, so you looked to your father’s ward to

provide you with one.”

“Alistair-” Queen Elspeth began, but Robbert hastily interrupted.

“No hold on. Sorry. I meant that you were looking for natural born children, not

bloodborn, in order to secure an heir. So you looked to the natural born children of your father’s

wards, and you found my mother. When she died giving birth to Mirranda, you took us in.”

Alistair waved his hand in dismissal. “You were my wards already, and I provided a

service to your grandfather for taking you and your sister off his hands. He would have died

soon enough, and you lot would have been brought here anyways. So I felt it best to take you

now, before you had connections to your home.”

Robbert swallowed. But he did have memories from it. Before he travelled to Lysos, he

had never thought much of it, but once he had returned, the dreams had become more frequent.

Most nights, he would have a dream of a dark haired woman taking care of him, and singing to

him while putting a cloth over his forehead. But that short dream would always turn into a

-39-
nightmare; first of the woman groaning in pain, and then of her corpse lying pale and cold on the

stone floor, blood pooling at her feet. An older man was covering her body with a sheet and a

woman held a screaming baby, taking his wrist and pulling him away from the sight. Get away

from there. The woman would say. Your mother’s gone, there’s nothing we can do.

“You had the pox when you were three; almost died from it. That’s also a reason why I

took you and your sister in when I did. I knew you would be safer here in the Castle, than in that

village.”

Robbert cleared his throat, keen to be back on the topic that they came here to discuss.

“Now about Mirranda-”

“You are not to go after her.” Alistair cut him off, and the hope that had been growing in

Robbert’s chest quickly died. “She’s made her decision, and now must deal with the

consequences of her actions when she returns, whether it be by choice or by force. I will deal

with this.”

“Father no, please.” Alexandra spoke up for the first time, but seemed to regret it almost

immediately.

“Be quiet, girl.” Lord Alistair thundered, clearly losing his patience with the both of them.

“I’ve had enough of this jabber. Now get out of my sight.” He turned to Robbert. “If you do so

choose to go after that foolish sister of yours, it will be me you answer to.”

-40-
 Chapter 5:

Mirranda had been riding for half of the day before finally stopping. Her waterskin

was empty, and the traveling cloak she was wearing seemed to intensify the sun’s glare. Drops

of sweat were trickling down her neck, and Mirranda wiped them off, wrinkling her nose at the

same time. It was never this hot in the castle. She thought. But then again, she also reminded

herself she had been riding for more than half the day, with few trees to provide shade, and

summer was approaching, meaning the sun would be beating down more than ever. She had

stolen a pair of Robbert’s trousers and a tunic before she had left, and she knew he would have

noticed them missing by now. She hoped he would be proud instead of angry, as he had always

told her that dressing as a man would be less dangerous if she were travelling somewhere

alone. Mirranda came to a stop at the side of the road, and using her horse to shield her from

prying eyes, quickly removed her cloak and shift, and donned Robbert’s tunic and trousers. She

checked to make sure her dagger was still hidden in her boot, before putting her shift into a

saddlebag and refastening her cloak. Mirranda travelled for a little longer before stopping at a

stream to let the horse drink, as well as fill up her own waterskin.

Mirranda put her hair up in a bun, as she had seen her handmaidens do whenever they

were carrying a heavy load or cleaning out the chamber pot. The bun was clumsy, to say the

least; Mirranda had never actually done her own hair before. But if she didn’t touch it too much,

she figured it would stay up for the most part, and that was what she needed.

Mirranda shoveled the meat and potatoes as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. She had

never gone without food for so long, and she welcomed the food gladly.

There was a man sitting on the opposite side of the room, who had not moved since she

had arrived. Multiple times she had looked up to see him watching her, and she wondered if she

-41-
should leave. She was saved from having to decide anything when the man, seeing that she

had almost finished her food, sat down at the table next to hers.

“What are you doing here, Mirranda?”

Mirranda was so surprised that she choked on her potatoes.

Mirranda gulped down her water and turned to look at him. “Excuse me?” She was

rather unnerved that a complete stranger would know who she was, and she briefly debated

getting up and just running out of the tavern. But that would defeat her entire purpose of coming

here. Besides, the man was about a head taller than her, and much stronger. He would be able

to catch up to her even before she reached the door.

“Who are you?”

The man guffawed. “You have the nerve to say that? I’ve known you since we were

children. Give it up already. You’re not fooling anyone with that disguise you know.”

Mirranda suddenly became aware of her bun slowly unraveling. She glanced at the man,

who smirked back.

“You were saying?” the man taunted.

“Shut up,” Mirranda said scowling, suddenly feeling irritated and embarrassed that her

ploy had failed.

She glanced at the man a little while longer, trying to place his face. She had seen him

before, she knew that, but it had not been for a long while. Suddenly something clicked, and

Mirranda recognized the man staring back at her. “Avram? What in the name of heaven are you

doing here?”

Avram threw his head back and laughed, so loudly that both the innkeeper and his wife

looked up from their work and stared.

“I have not seen you in years. Otherwise I would have recognized you sooner.”

Avram waved his hand. “No need to apologize Mirranda. I know you do poorly with

remembering faces.”

-42-
 “Oh do be quiet. Don’t rub it in too much. But answer my question. What are you doing

here?”

“I received a letter yesterday from your brother Robbert. He told me you had run off, and

that you would be in danger if you had continued alone. He asked me to join you. I said I would,

as I had just learned about what had happened to William.” Avram said. “I figured you would

come here first.” He reached down and pulled a dagger from his boot, and used the sharpened

blade to pick at his nails.

“I don’t need your help.” Mirranda said, frustrated that Robbert had decided to send

someone else after her. She would have much preferred having him alongside her, instead of

Avram.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, princess.” Avram grew quiet, and Mirranda’s

stomach lurched. “I’ve been out here before, and it’s a dangerous place, especially for a woman

who hasn’t even seen half the world.”

“I don’t need your help.” Mirranda insisted. “I am looking for William, and I don't

remember telling anyone that I needed assistance.”

“Oh really?” Avram asked, smirking. “Then tell me princess, where would your betrothed

be now?”

“He’s in the south.” She said with certainty. “That’s the only place he would taken if he

were captured by Plainshields in the North; they must have been working for the Southern lords.

Either House Gunner, Fallor, or Dorrin-”

“That’s all nice and well princess, but you don’t know exactly where your beloved is. He

could be as far south as the Hyrozian Cliffs in Toulea, perhaps even without the knowledge of

the Fallorians. He could be in the Morag Desert in the West, being buried in the burning sands

by the Gunnerians as we speak-”

“Be quiet.” Mirranda ordered him, fed up with his impertinence. Avram’s haughty smirk

disappeared, and he stared at her with contempt, his grey eyes hardening with anger.

-43-
Mirranda’s stomach lurched a second time; the expression he was giving her was not dissimilar

to her father’s features whenever he was about to strike her.

“You don’t frighten me.”

“Your tone, princess, says otherwise.” Avram rose from the table and sat at hers, a

gesture others might see as friendliness. But there was no friendliness in his eyes, and his

mouth was set in a rigid line. Avram reached across the table and took Mirranda’s hand,

squeezing her wrist hard.

“If you try to run, I’d be able to catch up to you even before you reach that door. Do you

understand?” Mirranda recognized the underlying threat in his voice, and knew better than to

say anything. Living under the harsh rules of Lord Alistair had taught her to recognize that sort

of thing. She glared at Avram, who smirked and released his grip on her wrist.

Avram noted her silence, and gave a simpering, victorious smile. And then the coldness

was gone; his tone changed, and the facade he had put on earlier returned. It was as if an

entirely different person had taken over his body. “Smart girl. I see Alistair has taught you well.

Now eat your potatoes.”

Mirranda didn’t want her stupid potatoes. She sat and stared at him for a moment.

Avram’s ugly outburst hadn’t exactly been a surprise to her, but the quickness of his temper had

been. Perhaps he had become better at controlling it. She still did not trust him completely; she

never had, and it did not surprise her to see he hadn’t changed one bit.

Avram stood up from the table. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Wearing Robbert’s clothing

was a good idea; do you have any others?”

Mirranda shook her head. Avram kept talking.

“I’ll figure something out. Maybe I can go out to town tomorrow to buy some clothes. If

you’re as smart as I think you are, you would’ve brought some coins with you.” Mirranda rolled

her eyes and produced the small satchel from the pocket in her trousers. Avram glanced at it

-44-
and nodded. “Good. We’re going to have to do something about your hair by the way- we’re not

going to chop it off, don't give me that look.”

“Just making sure.” Mirranda said, nibbling at her potatoes.

Avram rolled his eyes. “You’re staying here for the night; I’m going to get you a room.”

Mirranda could hear the ever present threat in his voice, though to other people it might sound

simply like a kind gesture, to her it was an insistent command. She watched him warily as he

stood up, unsure of his next move. Avram’s anger has passed, at least for now, and she knew

he was not planning to strike her; the moment for that had come and gone. Avram turned

towards Mirranda, and held out his hand.

“What?” Mirranda was not expecting this.

“Your satchel. The room’s not going to pay itself.”

Mirranda rolled her eyes and dug it out of her bag, handing it over to Avram. “Don’t take

any for yourself!” She called to his back as he walked away.

Avram turned, smirking. “Don’t worry princess, I wasn’t planning on it.”

Mirranda lay in bed, and as she had been expecting, sleep was not coming easy to her.

She worried about Robbert and Alexandra, about William, but of all things, she worried the most

about her father. She hadn’t thought about all this beforehand; she had been too caught up in

getting out of the castle to realize how furious he would be at her disappearance. Lord Alistair

was a dangerous man when his anger got the better of him, and she had been witness to that

scene too many times to underestimate the lengths he would go to in order to ensure her return.

Soldiers were probably being sent out at this very moment, and Mirranda didn’t doubt for one

moment that Robbert had begged to go after her as well. But she knew Lord Alistair wouldn’t let

Robbert put himself in danger; he had a kingdom to inherit one day, and Mirranda knew their

father wouldn’t let his son be killed due to his daughter’s stupidity.

-45-
 Mirranda sighed and glanced over to the corner of the room, where the shield she had

stolen from the armory was laying next to her bag and her travelling cloak. She briefly debated

taking her things and leaving, as much an effort to get away from Avram as it was to get closer

to William. She knew now his kindness had been a facade, simply to keep himself from being

thrown out by the innkeeper’s strongmen, but Mirranda knew him well enough to know that his

ugly side would return with more freedom the moment they left. Robbert must trust him to some

extent if he had sent Avram to protect Mirranda, but she also knew Robbert was unaware of

how Avram had treated her, as Avram had pulled a completely different attitude whenever

Robbert was around. A lump grew in her throat as she thought of her siblings, and how their

father might take his anger out on them once he learned Mirranda was gone. But she refused to

cry; crying was a sign of weakness, a principle that had been beaten into her long ago, and she

refused to cave in now.

-46-
 Chapter 6:

Paarthin Castle

Province of Gaulia, Northern Territory

“I’m going after Mirranda.” Robbert decided, looking to see how Alexandra reacted. He

was lounging on the window seat, while Alexandra was pacing the room in a small circle. She

stopped at Robbert’s sudden declaration.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew you would go, even if Father forbade it. You two

are both headstrong- it will get you both in trouble one day.”

“It already has.” Robbert said, shrugging.

-47-