Chapter 13

  Olivia Gendrel

  Peeking around a pillar, Olivia caught a glimpse of Aimon sneaking through the corridor ahead of her. She waited patiently until he was gone. Moving quickly, she followed after him as quietly as possible.

  Given that Aimon seemed to be headed toward the guest wing, she presumed that Jason Roost had likely gone back to his room. Thus far nothing seemed out of the ordinary. So why was he creeping after him? She had to find out.

  As Olivia went after him, she noticed her heeled shoes clacking loudly against the stone underneath. Their sound threatened to betray her location. Without much more of a thought, she quickly tore them off, gripping them tightly as she felt the floor's cold touch. Olivia took a few steps forward. Quiet. Much better.

  She pressed her back against the wall as she slowly rounded the next corner, her heart thudding against her chest. She had arrived at the stairwells that led up to the guest quarters. Aimon had already begun his ascent, his back covered in shadow as he went.

  Olivia held her position until he was gone. Once the sound of his footsteps had faded, she began slowly creeping her way up after him. Fortunately enough, everything seemed to be running smoothly.

  By the time she reached the second flight of stairs, however, her breath suddenly stopped.

  His back against the wall, Aimon’s gaze was on her, his face contorted in a mix of shock and frustration. What are you doing here? was what he seemed to be saying to her in silence.

  I could say the same for you, Olivia thought. But alas, he had seen her, and now was not a time for talking.

  Raising a finger over his mouth, Aimon turned back to his front without a word. Olivia quietly fell in behind him. She cursed herself for having been caught. You're about as stealthy as an elephant.

  Stuck behind Aimon, she couldn’t see much more than his back. Jason Roost’s room had to have been around the corner to her right, of which he was likely observing. She wanted to see for herself what he was looking at, but was unwilling to break silence to tell him. She opted to go around him instead.

  Aimon was quick to block her way with his arm. Giving her a rough nudge, he warned her not to go ahead.

  I just want to see what's happening. She bit her lips out of frustration. Unable to protest aloud, however, she went back to her spot. The last thing she wanted to do was risk unveiling their cover.

  Still trapped behind him and unable to speak, she resigned herself to simply standing there until something happened.

  After what felt like an eternity of silence had passed, she suddenly heard a door swing its way open to their right. A pair of heavy, metal footsteps fast approached them. Olivia panicked. Someone's coming!

  Aimon turned back to her, a look of horror etched across his face as well. He gestured frantically, urging her to move at once. She obeyed without hesitation. Racing together down the stairs, they tried to be as quick and quiet as possible. Her heart racing, Olivia prayed that their presence had gone unnoticed.

  Upon reaching the first floor, they fled until they reached the garden, their safe haven. Olivia had to stop and catch her breath amidst the flowers. She was relieved to have escaped.

  Aimon hunched over, resting his hands upon his knees. “I thought I told you... not to follow me.”

  “I had to,” she replied. “I wanted to know what you were up to.”

  Sitting down in the grass, Aimon groaned as loudly as he could. Raising his head up high, he sighed and closed his eyes. “…Of course you did. Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Indeed, why wouldn’t I?” Olivia crossed her arms. “Here's your chance to tell me why you were stalking after Jason Roost. That’s what you were doing, was it not?”

  Aimon opened his eyes, giving her a side-glance. “I suppose there’s no use in lying.”

  “Precisely. Spit it out.”

  His lips tightening, he checked around to see if they had been followed. Then he laid himself down fully. “I’ll be blunt about it. Jason Roost is not a trustworthy fellow. I want to see where he’s going.”

  “So, you’re going to follow him into the city? That’s why you're skipping lunch?”

  “Precisely,” he said.

  Olivia scoffed, setting herself down next to him. “Do you realize how brazen of a plan that sounds? What if something happens, what if Jason Roost figures out you’re spying on him? What are you going to do, then?”

  Aimon gave an amused laugh. “You’re acting as if he’d hurt me. What could he possibly do? Besides, I would beat his sorry arse in a fight.”

  Whatever that big-headed ego of yours says… Olivia rolled her eyes at him, her frustration growing. “You’re not taking this seriously at all, are you?”

  “Of course I am, Olivia!” Aimon stood up at once, his voice rising. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew exactly what was going to happen.”

  Olivia rose from feet as well. “And what was going to happen? I get concerned for you and tell you not to follow through with a reckless plan, and you’re too stubborn to listen to me?”

  “No—” he blurted. Then, as he sat down again, he hesitated. “…Yes.” Turning away from her, he pressed a hand against his forehead. “You heard and saw what I did, Olivia. How did Jason Roost just happen to know who I was? I’m no prince, I’m no lord, I’m just… a squire from a lesser house. None of it feels right."

  Her temper simmering down, Olivia sat beside him. In a way, she didn’t disagree with what he had said. Even before Jason had arrived, the whole ordeal with regards to his lavish gifts had already seemed rather strange.

  “I understand,” she told him. “I just… don’t want you running off into danger head-on. We don’t know Jason Roost, and… we don’t know what he’s capable of, either.”

  “That's precisely why I’m going after him, Olivia. If he’s up to no good, then I’m going to find out. Like it or not, I’m going after him. You can’t stop me.”

  A dull ache settled within her chest. She ripped up a few blades of grass and mindlessly played with them. Powerless in the face of Aimon’s stubbornness, she doubted whether or not it was even right to keep on trying. Just earlier in the day, she had already failed in getting him to turn down Jason Roost’s challenge. What point was there in continuing? She had small hope of holding him back.

  Biting her lips, Olivia had no choice but to accept defeat—for the time being, at least.

  “…Fine.” The word felt like poison being drawn.

  “I’m glad you understand,” Aimon said, rising from his feet. “I’ll be back before supper. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know by then.”

  Just as he turned around to leave her, Olivia stood up and grabbed him by the wrist. Clutching it tightly, she looked him in the eye. “Promise me, Aimon,” she said. “...Promise me you’ll come back—unharmed.”

  Pausing for a moment, his brow rose in confusion. “…Unarmed?” he spat. “Why would I promise that?”

  “What?” Olivia was equally as confused. “That’s not what I—”

  “It was a joke,” he said, laughing. A self-assured smile crossed his lips. “Fear not, my lady. I shall return in one piece. I swear it.” After giving one last bow, Aimon took his leave and departed from the garden.

  Left alone once more, Olivia stood there in silence as she weighed her options. In a way, Aimon had been right to regard Jason Roost with suspicion. There was no denying that. After all, Houses Gendrel and Roost were historic rivals. As her uncle often said, You can never trust a Roost.

  However, she disagreed with the way in which Aimon was going about in his plan to spy on Jason Roost. If they were indeed going to spy on him, it had to be done in a manner that was much better organized—with the proper men and resources at their disposal. It was wrong to rush into the fray, as Aimon was doing so now.

  Despite having failed in stopping him from going, she refused to sit around idly and wait. What if something were to happen to him? What if Aimon was hurt? What if he...

  Olivia couldn’t bear to stand the thought of him dying. Perhaps, indeed, she was overthinking, but she cared not. She cared only for the wellbeing of her closest friend, who was now running off blindly into the unknown, motivated by nothing more than a hunch.

  In the past, she had been there to get him out of trouble when needed. This time, however, it seemed the matter would be entirely out of her hands. She considered following him herself, but such a plan was unlikely to be much better than Aimon’s.

  Olivia had to speak with someone about this—someone she trusted, and soon. The first person in mind was her father. Surely, the Archduke of Galeria had enough power at his disposal to do something tangible about her predicament. If she couldn’t find him, then she would seek out her brother, uncles, and mother instead.

  Slipping her heels back on, she left the garden in search of her father.

  Anthranor Arathan

  “Unbelievable. You used to squire alongside Cormund Gendrel?”

  “Indeed, my prince,” Ser Dorristan replied. “The both of us had the honor of squiring under Ser Jolston Selbane.”

  “The Ser Jolston Selbane?” Anthranor was in awe as he poured himself a bowl’s worth of soup.

  Chuckling, the knight nodded. “In the flesh.”

  “Incredible…” Taking a spoonful of soup, Anthranor gently blew at it before drinking. To have squired for Ser Jolston Selbane was perhaps one of Ser Dorristan's greatest feats.

  “Were you close with the Archduke?” Anthranor asked.

  “Indeed.” The knight smiled. “Even though we haven’t spoken for quite some time… I like to think we still are.”

  “I heard the Archduke lost his eye when he was around my age. Would you happen to know how?”

  “As a matter of fact, I would,” Ser Dorristan answered. “But, I’m afraid that must be a tale for another time. Perhaps after we’ve arrived at Hildan, the Archduke and I can tell you together.”

  That sounded good enough for Anthranor. “I'm counting on it,” he said.

  Smiling at him, Ser Dorristan took the ladle from the pot and filled his own bowl of soup. “We’ll be arriving in Hildan within two days. How are you feeling? Are you nervous?”

  The prince set his bowl aside, clasping his hands together. He gazed deeply into the campfire.

  “A little, " he admitted. "But it's more like... I miss my sister and my grandfather. I haven't seen them for weeks, now. This is the longest I've been away from home."

  “You’re not alone in feeling that way, Anthranor.” Grabbing a stick, Ser Dorristan used it to stir the fire’s embers. “When I was around ten years of age, my father sent me to the capital to begin squiring under Ser Jolston Selbane. Calthorne was a long way from home, so that meant I wouldn’t get to see my family again for quite some time.”

  “How long?”

  “Years,” Ser Dorristan replied. He had a small, bittersweet smile on his lips. “I remember how I used to yearn for the wisdom of my father, the loving embrace of my mother, and the mischievous company of my brothers… I missed my family dearly, just as you miss yours now.”

  “But, as time went on, I got to grow on my own. I got to explore the Nine Realms, travel across the seas, and train under the greatest knight ever known. And… I made new companions, as well.” He gave a knowing look.

  Anthranor smirked. “Did you meet a girl? I don’t imagine Cormund Gendrel was your only companion.”

  “I did meet a girl once,” Ser Dorristan said, chuckling. “When I was fifteen. Ser Jolston had taken us to this small, quaint town in the east of Brunzhal. We were young and handsome, of course, so… naturally, we drew the attention of a few girls or so.”

  “What was her name?”

  The knight smiled fondly. “…Natalia,” he said. “Sometimes I called her Talia.”

  His curiosity stoked, Anthranor couldn’t resist asking more. “What was she like?”

  “Magic.” Ser Dorristan’s voice grew reverent. “When I first saw her, that’s exactly what it felt like. I can still remember how her beautiful, luscious brown hair looked, and the way her eyes seemed to glitter…" He sighed longingly. "It was as if the Creator had just revealed the greatest treasure in all the world.”

  A great big smile made its way across Anthranor’s lips. Is this what love felt like? Would he get his chance of experiencing such a wonderful thing one day? And if so… when would it be?

  “What happened next?” There was a strong hint of vigor to his voice. “Did you spend a lot of time with her?”

  The knight chuckled. “I did. Often, we took a stroll along the river, or merely went around the village together. It was simple… but it was nice.”

  Then Ser Dorristan sighed, his gaze lowering. “However, because she was commonborn… Our love could not continue. No matter what, I knew my father would never have approved of her.”

  Anthranor’s heart sunk, his sense of wonder shattering. He had not been expecting such a revelation. Reduced to silence, he could only stare as the campfire flickered.

  After a brief moment, he spoke up again. “So, you…”

  “I let her go.” Ser Dorristan’s face was a weary one, his voice faltering. “I did what I believed was right at the time. I tried to let her down easy, to make it as painless as possible, but in the end, she… ran away from me in tears. And that’s the last I saw of her.”

  “At times, I wonder if I made the right choice, in the end.” Ser Dorristan laughed to himself, a sad smile on his lips. “Even today, I still find myself thinking about her at night. Twenty-three years later, and that girl has never left my mind."

  He looked to Anthranor. "In life, as you grow older, you’ll be made to choose. When I was fifteen, I was made to choose between love or duty. I chose duty that day. I cannot tell you the better choice between love or duty, but just know…” He gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever choice you make, it will be the one that you’ll have to live with. For the rest of your life. Remember that.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Anthranor was stunned. His words failing him, he was unable to speak. ...Is that what love was? Pain and suffering?

  He wanted to ask Ser Dorristan this very question, but one look at his face made him reconsider. Perhaps a different time would be better—he had already pressed him enough.

  The prince rose onto his feet, a light smile on his face. “I have just conceived a wonderful new idea, Ser Dorristan,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, two ideas, actually. But, firstly, I’m going to write my sister a letter, as soon as we arrive in Hildan. That way, we won’t have to send one of our skyfarers, and she’ll be able to send her own to Hildan Keep without having to worry about us being on the road.”

  Ser Dorristan furrowed his brows. “You can use one of our birds, my prince. We’ve got three; more than enough for you to use.”

  “No, no,” the prince protested. “In case we need to use them for emergencies, I won’t risk it. I can wait until we get to where we’re going.”

  “Very well, then. What was your second idea?”

  “It’s got to do with my training. We’ve only been dueling in single combat until now, but what about pitting me against multiple opponents at once?”

  The knight rubbed his chin, clearly intrigued at the thought of it. “Well, it certainly wouldn’t hurt. But the Trident typically has single combat, are you sure it’s worth including it in your training?”

  “Well, you’ve got a point, but what if they change it this year? I wouldn’t want to be caught off guard.”

  Ser Dorristan smiled. “Now that I think about it, I do recall years where the Trident had free-for-all melees, with well over a dozen contestants involved. They just haven’t occurred in a long time.”

  “Can we try it, then?” Anthranor was eager to test his mettle. He had certainly improved from his training with Ser Dorristan and Ser Tony, but he wished now to challenge himself by facing multiple opponents at once. After all, such a method better portrayed the reality of war, and with the possibility of a largescale melee in the Trident, it wouldn’t be for naught.

  “Of course, my prince. Shall we begin within the hour?”

  The prince smirked. “I’ll let the others know.”

  Arthur Gendrel

  Ser Rufford Cosway’s blade streaked through the air toward him like a bolt of lightning. Twisting his body, Arthur barely dodged in the nick of time. Then, just to his right, Ser Xavier Larston followed up with his own attack against the young lord by swinging for his chest.

  Arthur checked the knight’s blade, having moved quickly. Before he could counter, however, Ser Rufford emerged from the left and struck him on the side of his helm.

  Staggering from the blow, Arthur nearly fell, but caught himself. Both knights then rushed him at once. Their swords clanging against his one after the other, Arthur was forced on the backfoot. Steel clashed loudly against steel. He could feel his strength wavering. The weight of both swords finally brought down the full brunt of their power, and Arthur soon fell before them, his own sword cast aside.

  Too tired to move, the young lord merely laid there, his eyes staring blankly into the gray, cloudy sky above him. Perhaps it might rain.

  “I believe that’s enough training for now, my lord. We’ve been at it for a while.” Smiling, Ser Rufford offered him a hand.

  Arthur took it and lifted himself up. He rose a brow at Ser Rufford. “How did I do?”

  The knight dusted off his shoulder pauldrons. “You’re getting there, sure enough. But, you need to be faster, more agile. You move too slowly, and you think too much.”

  Sighing, Arthur tried not to take his words too harshly. Sure, they hurt, but he knew such criticisms were valid ones. If he wanted to do well in—or even win—the Trident, he had to get better.

  “You don’t have to do it, you know,” Ser Rufford said.

  Arthur looked at him. “Do what?”

  “You don’t have to fight in the Trident.” The knight collected Arthur’s fallen sword and returned it to a nearby rack. “In the end, it doesn’t really matter all that much anyway. It’s just a distraction for the people of the Nine Realms to sit down and forget about their woes. Nine days of cheering, drinking, and watching people hit each other."

  Arthur couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like something you’d enjoy, Ser Rufford.”

  The knight chuckled, shedding his helmet to let his long, dark hair flow. “Perhaps, but I’ve already got plenty of chances for that here, do I not?”

  Wheezing into a hearty laugh, he gave Ser Xavier a firm slap on the shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Ser Larston?”

  “Of course, Ser Cosway.”

  “But, do heed my words—” Ser Rufford’s face grew serious. “It’s all just a distraction, my lord. Nothing more.”

  “A distraction?” He frowned.

  “Yes." Stepping back, Ser Rufford took his waterskin from a table and drank from it. “I’ve been putting some thought into it lately.”

  Ser Xavier gave an amused smile. “I didn’t know you could think.”

  “Shut your trap, Xavier.” Ser Rufford threateningly pointed at him, although he lacked any real intention of harm.

  The Larston knight merely raised his hands. “My apologies, ser,” he said mockingly, fashioning a bow.

  “Ser Xavier,” Arthur called him out, his voice stern. He wanted to hear what Ser Rufford had to say. “That’s enough, let him speak.”

  “Apologies, my lord.”

  Turning back to face Ser Rufford, Arthur bade him to go on. “What do you mean by ‘distraction?’”

  “You remember the day when Ser Vance Otto left the city with some one hundred men on horseback, do you not? Have you ever wondered where they went?”

  “Father told me they were headed to Warhall,” Arthur replied. “They were being sent to help the Greencloaks deal with the bandits wreaking havoc in the Bothic.”

  “As I said before—a distraction. That’s what the Trident is. They’re even hosting it earlier than usual this year. Has it not occurred to you the oddness of it all?”

  Ser Xavier gave him a skeptical look. “Perhaps the Crown simply wishes to provide merriment for its people to enjoy sooner than we had anticipated. We have enjoyed a lasting peace for nearly fifty years now, why must we worry?”

  “Bah.” Ser Rufford brushed him off. “Say what you will, Ser Xavier, but my suspicions remain.”

  He turned back to Arthur. “I suppose, what I was saying, my lord, is that you shouldn’t worry so much about the Trident. It’s not as big of a deal as the world would have you believe. Have you considered dropping out of the roster?”

  Arthur’s lips creased with uncertainty. He had been so confident before, why was he doubting himself now? If he did drop out of the running, however, he knew that word of it would spread like wild fire across the Nine Realms. What would become of his reputation? Would his father be disappointed? Perhaps the Trident was indeed a farce, but as the pride and heir of House Gendrel, he felt he had little choice but to fight.

  “I can’t,” he said. “…It’s my duty. I can’t back out now.”

  Ser Rufford’s face was a solemn one as he nodded. “Very well, my lord. Then we shall continue with your training, as usual, on the morrow. For now, I’ll be off to my chambers. Good day, you two.”

  After bidding him farewell, Arthur looked to Ser Xavier. “...Do you believe the Trident serves as a distraction for the Nine Realms?”

  The Larston knight smiled. “Of course I do… but in a good way. You’ve already attended the Trident thrice now, have you not? You know what it’s like. It’s a time of cheer and good sport, something for us all to enjoy in our otherwise mundane lives.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re wrong.” Walking toward the barracks, Arthur took off his helmet. Ser Xavier tagged along closely behind him.

  “But,” Arthur went on, “I don’t believe Ser Rufford was necessarily wrong in questioning the sudden… redeployment of Imperial troops from the garrison. Do you think there could be more to it than bandits?”

  “There’s no way to know for sure. But, I would personally suggest we leave it for the Emperor to worry about. I do believe the Bothic Lands are out of your father’s jurisdiction.”

  “They are, but regardless, I worry about the people who live there.”

  Ser Xavier smiled. “My lord, you have a good heart. Rest assured, however, His Eminence is more than capable of dealing with the chaos. You need not be concerned.”

  “I hope so.”

  Stepping inside of the barracks, Arthur stripped off the rest of his practice armor and neatly set it away. All of that training had made him tired and hungry. He wanted food, soon.

  “Is it nearly time for lunch, Ser Xavier? Do you know?”

  He took a gander outside, only to be disappointed by the cloudy sky. “I must admit I lack such knowledge, my lord. Perhaps within the hour?”

  Arthur shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t matter much; we’ll be called to eat regardless.”

  Having changed back into his regular attire, consisting of a white shirt and green pants, Arthur strapped on his longsword and left the barracks. Ser Xavier followed him back out into the training yard. “What do you plan on doing now, my lord?”

  He wasn’t quite sure. It would mostly be limbo until lunch came, and then afterward…

  “Arthur!”

  The both of them stopped, turning around as Olivia came running up to them. Her face looked ghastly. Something was wrong.

  “Olivia?" Arthur frowned. "Are you alright?”

  His sister keeled over for a moment to catch her breath, panting. Seeing that she was barefooted with her heels in hand, he presumed she had taken them off in order to run faster. Her friend, Aimon Mosenclaw, was nowhere to be seen.

  “Aimon…” she muttered, as if answering him. “He’s gone after Jason Roost. He’s going to spy on him. I wanted to tell father, but he’s not here—”

  “He’s gone to spy on Jason Roost?”

  “Yes—”

  Arthur cursed the boy in his head. The consequences could be dire if he were caught by Jason Roost, or if something terrible were to happen to either of them. House Gendrel’s reputation hung on the line. What on earth was he thinking? That bloody fool. “Where did he go?”

  “In the city.” Olivia stood up straight, her breath still coarse, her voice unsteady. “He’s probably already gone by now, but I don’t know where he went. I tried to convince him otherwise, but he wouldn’t listen—”

  “No.” He stopped her there. “It’s alright.”

  Stopping for a moment, he tried to think of what could be done. Given that his father was absent, that left his uncles. Even if they were inside the castle, however, there was little time to spare in trying to find them. That left Arthur himself, heir to Hildan Keep, as the one in charge.

  But what could he do? Hildan was by no means a small city, and as his sister had told him, they had no clue of Aimon Mosenclaw’s whereabouts. It was like shooting an arrow blind in the dark of night.

  Arthur tore through his mind for ideas. When nothing feasible came up, he thought at once of his father. What would he do? Surely, his father would have pursued a cautious, sensible approach. Whatever decisions he made would have to be quick, yet smart. They could scarcely afford to make a huge mess out of this.

  “Ser Xavier, assemble a contingent of ten of our household guards at once,” Arthur commanded. If anything were to happen, they needed a force ready to immediately respond. “Gather them in the courtyard, and instruct them to remain there on high alert.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The knight clutched the hilt of his sword. “Shall I fetch Ser Rufford, as well?”

  “Do so, but only after you have assembled the guards. Then have him report to the courtyard as well. Quickly!”

  Obeying him, Ser Xavier went away, going as fast as he could in his armor.

  Arthur began jogging through the castle alongside his sister. “If we’re going to be spying on our guest, we should be doing it properly. Aimon’s a damned fool.” He shook his head. “Are you aware of why Jason Roost went into the city in the first place?”

  “I am,” she replied. “He told us that he was going to explore with his giant of a knight, Ser Titan. He intended to return by dinner.”

  “I see.” Arthur remembered that Jason Roost had a keen taste for wine and ale. Not a drunkard, but an 'enjoyer,' as he called himself. During their travels, he would often indulge himself as they sat around a campfire. “Perhaps he’s taken to trying out the local taverns. I reckon that’s a good start of where he might have gone first.”

  “We can’t really make a big scene, can we?” Olivia brushed her way past a statue. “I don’t think it would be sensible to send out a hundred guards to go scouring the streets. It’d be a bad look.”

  “Do you know where our father is, or our uncles?”

  “He’s at the tourney grounds again, making sure everything’s running smoothly. I believe Uncle Martin went with him, as well. Have you thought about consulting mother?”

  “No,” Arthur replied. “She’s got more important things to be worrying about at the moment. Have you seen Uncle Andrew?”

  Just as they were approaching the entrance that led into the courtyard, Ser Andrew emerged from behind the corner of a hallway. Arthur’s body smashed directly into him, and brought the both of them to the floor. Groaning in pain, he was quickly helped to his feet by his sister.

  “Watch where you’re going, the both of you!” Ser Andrew wearily rubbed at his shoulder as he rose onto his knees. Upon seeing their faces, his look of outrage turned into one of concern.

  A number of guards rushed by, hurriedly running with their lances in hand.

  Ser Andrew narrowed his eyes. “…What’s happening?”

  Still reeling from the hit, Arthur was unable to immediately respond. Olivia stepped up beside him. “It’s about Aimon, uncle,” she answered. “It’s a long story, but he’s run off to spy on Jason Roost. We don’t know if something bad might happen, so we’re preparing for the worst. We could really use your help… We’re not quite sure what to do.”

  Their uncle gave a sigh, scratching his chin. “So that’s where he went…” he muttered. “That fool of a squire. I take it you’ve already placed the guards on high alert?”

  Finally catching his breath, Arthur nodded. “Not everyone, but I’ve instructed Ser Xavier to find Ser Rufford and assemble ten guards in the courtyard. I don’t want to make a big scene in the city.”

  “Ten is plenty. Come on, let’s move.” Ser Andrew led them into the courtyard, where ten guards, along with Ser Rufford and Ser Xavier, had assembled as planned.

  “Ready and waiting, my lords and lady,” Ser Rufford said to them. “Any further orders?”

  “I trust you’ve already been told what’s happened, along with the others?”

  “Yes, my lord Arthur, Ser Xavier was kind enough to inform us.”

  He sighed in relief. The stress of it all was beginning to get to him. “Good.”

  “Is something the matter?” The captain of the gates, Phillis, had emerged from behind.

  They all turned around to face him. Arthur wasted no time in issuing him a command. “Prepare to open the gates. There's a crisis at hand, and we may need to send men out into the city.”

  Visibly perturbed, the captain gave a light bow. “Right away, my lord.” Then he was gone.

  Ser Andrew looked to his nephew. “What’s your plan, Arthur? To go after Aimon and bring him back here? Even if we find him, things could get ugly if he refuses to come quietly.”

  “Yes, more or less, that’s what I’m thinking, uncle.” He doubted whether or not it was the right move, but they simply could not allow Aimon to lurk around by his lonesome. At the very least, they had to find out where he had gone.

  His uncle rubbed at his chin. “How much time is there? Do we know?”

  “Jason Roost said he would be back by supper,” Olivia said. “I presume that gives us at most several hours, but even then, we can’t be sure if he’ll return beforehand.”

  “We should start by searching the taverns, and then the marketplaces and common areas,” Arthur recommended. “If he intends to explore the city as he said he would, he’ll most likely be there.”

  “Right, then.” Ser Andrew gave a nod. “We’ll split up the men, strip them of their armor, and send them out to see if we can find either of them. We just have to find one. We'll try to get Aimon back however we can.”

  “Why must they remove their armor?” Olivia asked.

  “Draws less attention. More conspicuous. They can act as if they’re taking a break from their duties.”

  Ser Rufford stepped up. “I would like to accompany them.”

  Ser Xavier joined him at his side. “Me, as well.”

  “I want to go, too,” Arthur said.

  “Not you.” His uncle’s voice was stern. “One of your knights may go, but the other must stay here with you.”

  “I want to help!"

  Ser Andrew grabbed him by the shoulder. “I’m not about to risk your life if anything goes wrong. Remember what happened in Cosway? As I have told you before, we cannot trust a Roost. We don’t know what he’s up to, if anything at all. Stay here, where you’re safe, and can still issue orders if anything happens.”

  Despite how badly he wished to go, Arthur knew there was no changing his uncle’s mind. “…Alright. I’ll stay.”

  “Good. Leave it to me. Ser Xavier, you'll remain here with my niece and nephew."

  The knight bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

  Ser Andrew looked to Arthur next. “When your father returns within the hour with Uncle Martin from the tourney grounds, you must inform them of everything that’s happened. Do you understand?”

  He gave a nod. “Yes, uncle.”

  Ser Andrew turned to face the others. “Get your armor off, quickly! You can just leave it on the ground, we’ll deal with the mess later. Follow me!”

  As their uncle and his men went to the gate, Olivia came up beside Arthur. “Do you think we should tell Anna about this?”

  He wanted to say yes at first, but hesitated. From what he had seen and heard before, his little sister was more than likely smitten in love with Jason Roost. Given her poor history of keeping secrets as well, she was not worthy of his trust on such matters.

  “No,” he said. “It’s better if she doesn’t know. At least, for the time being. We can’t tell her that Aimon Mosenclaw was spying on Jason Roost. He must not know. Our secret wouldn't safe with her.”

  Olivia nodded. “I don’t believe she’s trustworthy, either. But I think Mother should at least know of this.”

  “Mother is much more trustworthy than Anna. You should find her and tell her what’s happened.”

  “Right away.” Olivia left at once.

  Arthur glanced at his knight. “Ser Xavier, accompany my sister and assemble another dozen of our guards in the courtyard.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Left by himself, Arthur contemplated on the consequences that would come from Aimon Mosenclaw’s rash decision to pursue Jason Roost. Depending on how things happened from here, the very future of House Gendrel was at stake.

  His father had labored for many years to uphold the Emperor’s promise, the Vecturo Passe, within his fiefdom. Such times of peace and prosperity required, at the very least, amicable terms with the other seven noble houses.

  Although the centuries-old rivalry between Houses Gendrel and Roost was a seemingly endless one, it was a feud that, at worst, remained behind closed doors. If word were to leak of House Gendrel spying upon its honored guest, the firstborn son and heir of Archduke Gerald Roost, he feared for the diplomatic disaster that was to come.

  Given that the situation was no longer in his hands, however, all there was to do was wait… and hope for the best.