Upheaval and Change - Tales 16

Seth approached the King after asking to see him privately. He was not out to crucify his rival, but maybe ruin his image a bit. He bowed lowly and said,"Thank you for agreeing to see me."

Hawk smiled. He was in a good mood. "I heard you found a knight to look after you. Well done, you have made a good choice."

"Thank you, I believe so as well. I am eager to begin,"he said with a smile wondering how to bring it up.

"now what can I do for you, I do not suppose you are here with out a reason." The King said.

"Well, I am not sure it is my business sire, but I am wondering about Jon Sanglett. I hear he is going strait for lady Browen's hand is this true?"He hoped that was alright and not to intrusive.

"from what I hear he is." Hawk said, slightly amused. "So maybe you should speed things up too. don't let him get too far ahead."

Seth looked at the King and asked,"What do you mean?"

"why don't you tell her, that you are training to become a knight, and that you hold the Kings favor." Hawk said with a grin on his face.

A mixture of surprise and horror flickered across the captain's features as she dropped to her knees beside the fallen knight. She should have known his condition wouldn't have allowed such an emotional shock. "Nia," she said, striving for perfect calm in her voice, "do you have smelling salts available? And where is his bed?"

Nia was doing her best to remain calm, but failing miserably. "What's wrong with him?!"

"He's simply been overcome with emotion," she suggested matter-of-factly, propping his head up on her lap. His face had entirely drained of color. "Nia," she reminded gently. "The smelling salts?"

"Yes? Yes! Somewhere! um..." she scrambled about the room, looking this way and that. She rummaged briefly through her own pack. "Here!" she shouted triumphantly, and raced back over to Deirdre, a small bottle in her hand.

Throwing Nia a reassuring look, she uncorked the cap and waved it slowly underneath the knight's nose. "Sir Amlyn?" she prodded gently. "Sir Amlyn?"

After a few moments his eyes gradually started to open. They were glassy and hollow, as if his vision was focused on some far away place. At the same time his lips began to move as if he were speaking, but he made no sound and gave no indication that he recognised their presence.

Waving a hand before his face, the captain was startled to find that his eyes still focused beyond the movement. Something was terribly wrong here. Her stomach turned in worry; this was no simple fainting spell.

"......"

"We cannot hear you!" said Nia. "What are you saying?"

Amlyn was trembling slightly, as if fighting something from within. "...... Nay," he finally whispered. "Nay... I shall not succumb." He blinked once, his eyes misting over. "The time for fury lies not now without focus, but when nightmare becomes reality and a true cause becomes known." He blinked again, squeezing a tear from his eye.

"Nia," Deirdre whispered quietly, trying to get the girl's attention. "Go fetch a healer, quick as you can." The seriousness in her tone bit the girl to the bone. At this point, Deirdre was certain the man had lost his senses, in more than the physical term.

"I do not need one," interrupted Amlyn. He sat up quickly, surprised by where he found himself. "But I thank thee for your concern," he added, seeing the worry in both women's faces.

"Nevertheless," Deirdre answered quickly, "I would much rather you see one." She nodded towards Nia to prod her to move. "That was no simple fainting spell," she added, partially in hopes of sending Nia off faster; she also hoped for some sort of explanation of Amlyn's offhand nature towards his collapse.

Amlyn looked at Deirdre for a moment. "Go Nia, fetch a healer," he said finally. She nodded and quickly left the room. When she left, Amlyn slowly rose to his feet, picking up the dress once more. He held it in his hands, seemingly lost in thought. The edges of his lips turned downwards, brought on first by a frown, which then slowly melded into a grim expression of determination.

Rising to her feet in one graceful, smooth motion, Deirdre took the moment of silence to brush off her breeches. She glided closer to him, her concern stemming from him standing so quickly. "Whose gown is that?" she finally asked softly.

Amlyn continued to run his hands through the fabric. He recognized the scent embedded into the dress. But he knew that there was every chance that the blood and tearing had been created by someone else who had obtained possession of it. Was it real, or was it a carefully crafted prop? He could not say, although he hoped very much that it was the latter.

It was then that he discovered he could smell something else. Stronger, yet as delicate and somehow familiar. He realised that Deirdre had moved closer to him, and he remembered, as if from a dream, that she had been cradling his head in her hands as he came to. Embarrassed by his fainting and subsequent emotional lapse, he moved away from her.

"I..." How much should he reveal? Amlyn did not wish to risk others becoming involved. "...cannot say for certain," he said in frustration, knowing even as the words left his lips that they were a poor attempt at evasion.

Deirdre frowned, straightening. She hated being lied to. "With all respect, I doubt you would have been overwhelmed unless you knew exactly whose dress this was," she argued, riled.

Amlyn had been fighting with his emotions and memories since regaining consciousness. Anger, amor, sadness, amusement, all played about inside him like a yard full of young children, pulling him in all different directions at once. But it was all due to being distracted by the familiar black wave of rage that threatened to grip his being and thrust him on an immediate path of bloody retribution and revenge. With Deirdre's insistent pushing at the very subject that triggered his state, it finally spilled out.

He could no longer feel his wounds. A new fountain of vitality and strength blossomed within his core, and he felt like he could run as fast as a horse for days. His vision sharpened, even as the shadows in the room suddenly lengthened. He harnessed the source and fed slowly on it, determined to make it last until he met with the Order and verified the nature of the garment. Fire then turned to ice.

"I am sorry, Captain," said Amlyn slowly. "But I did not realise I was being interrogated." He moved towards a chair and sat down, arm resting along the top of his right leg. "The dress belongs to Lady Eleri of Dinodig. She is my mother by birth," he added. He waited silently as if for the next question.

If Amlyn expected her to react to that, he was sorely disappointed; she didn't even bat an eye. Disgust filled her stomach, however. She was quickly losing respect for this White Order - anyone who would stoop to such underhanded methods as this was not worth her regard.

"I'm sorry," she replied, as stiffly as he had announced her certain death. "But I would like you to understand my position." She was frustrated with his sudden mood changes and his evasiveness. She had hoped for a clear cut case and now was thrust into a mess where those who she considered on the side of justice were proceeding with practices beneath assassins.

"I am responsible for the health and welfare of _everyone_ who resides in the castle, everyone from his highness to the scullery maids. When a charge such as this is brought forth, I find it my duty to investigate; what guard would allow a known killer to reside beside her king?

"But as I come to know you, Sir Amlyn, I find that despite your arrogance and evasive nature, in spite of your temper and rude behaviour, I believe you are not at fault. Not to the point that this group brings their obsessive hunt to." She paused for a breath, her words as cold and emotionless as his were.

"So, if you would like me to remove them from the palace grounds, I would be more than happy to."

Amlyn did not hear the last question, for he still digested how she had described him. Not including evasive, being arrogant, rude and of foul temper were things that he had seen in her. He was certainly getting the sharp edge of the sword, and he certainly didn't like it either.

But for some reason, his anger waned. In the past, he was sure it would have come to striking out. If not at her, then at something, _anything_. At the moment however, he felt hurt and greatly wronged. It was a subtle change, and part of him wondered at it's significance.

"I am many things," he said calmly. "Reckless, cruel and arbitrary amongst them. Should you wish to add what you have just said to that list, then I shall not argue with thee. In fact," he said, getting up. "Since you are such a good judge of a man's character, then clearly I be neither worthy of your pity, nor the time ye would invest in acting on my behalf."

He walked over to the door and opened it. "Please leave," he said. "I shall deal with the Order with blood and violence. Mayhap there would be less pain in that, then the wounds you have already placed upon me."

She smiled through tight lips and nodded her head to him. "As you wish. But be sure that neither I nor my king will allow something as barbaric as this to happen within the confines of this city." She turned to glare at him, only a half step from the door. "Whether you wish to die or not," she added, turning on her heel.

She was stopped abruptly by a breathless Nia followed by a worried-looking healer. Pausing long enough to gaze at the child compassionately, she rested a hand on her shoulder. "You are a good girl, Nia. No matter what happens, come to me. I will find a place for you." And with that, she was gone.

Nia looked at Sir Amlyn in confusion. Instead of acknowledging her concern, he turned to the healer and said, "I am sorry to have wasted your time. There is no need for you here." Despite a half-hearted protest, he dismissed her again. Nia moved inside, and Amlyn closed the door.

Before she could speak, he got in first. "There is nothing to discuss. She heard, but did not listen. I... I am going to lay down for a while. Amuse yourself as ye will." With his last words, Nia could almost read a tinge of bitterness. But no other help was forthcoming, as Amlyn retired to his room straight away. Nia was left in a room with memories of a stranger lying about, forgotten and abandoned. For now.

Ciaran found the room with little difficulty. In training when the other Squires had been wrestling he had been studying in here, and this room was not too far from that of Lord Iorwerth, for whom he had been Squire. Until the fateful day of the hunt. But now was not a time for memories, it was a time for beginnings. He knocked at the door.

Nia opened the door and looked at Ciaran with a suspicious stare. "Yes? Who are you?" she demanded.

"Watch your tone with me girl, I am the High Knight of Air, and will not take offense only because you are a stranger here and do not know me."

Nia's tone softened but doubt still lingered in her eyes. "What may I do for you sir knight?" she said cautiously.

"I am here to see Sir Amlyn, I have been told he is within this room, I did not know he had company." He grinned childishly.

Nia blushed. Arrogant pig, she thought. High Knight be damned, she gave him her best icy glare. "Sir Amlyn is resting at the moment. He is ill and not to be distur-"

"Nia! Who is it?" said a voice from inside.

Nia turned her head away to one side, but still managed to keep an eye on Ciaran. "A... knight wishes to see you my lord!"

There was a pause and the sounds of movement in the room beyond the door. Nia looked at Ciaran again. "You are barely older than I am," she murmured.

"I am probably younger, but I have aged a lot in the past year." He winked at her. "Though I know not your age, I think you may be older."

Before Nia could fire back a volley, the door swung open. Amlyn stood waiting, dressed in a loose woollen shirt and faded brown leather pants, sword resting in his hand. His skin was slightly pale and off-colour, but a fire seemed to burn brightly in his eyes. "Can I help you?" he said slowly.

"Sir Amlyn." Ciaran stood his full height as he said this, trying to dwarf Amlyn like a Giant to a Man. "I am Ciaran LeafMane, High Knight of Air, and though you know it not, we are already acquainted. May I come in."

Amlyn looked at Ciaran. He had heard his exchange with Nia, and was not impressed with either her or Ciaran. But upon seeing the young man, he suddenly felt sorry for him. He considered it insane to thrust such a title upon someone so young. Often it was hard enough to prove your worth as a simple knight. But to be made a high knight so young was a potential disaster waiting to happen. It made that person's life more difficult, as expectations would be high indeed. He certainly appeared to be a strong and well built lad. But Ciaran's attempt to draw up to his full stature while announcing himself made him look insecure. They were both the same height anyhow.

But Amlyn ignored Ciaran's inexperience. There was no such thing as the perfect knight: everyone had their flaws and weaknesses. He had more important things to be dealing with rather than analysing his first impressions of vistors.

He turned to Nia and said, "I believe you have an errand to run."

She nodded, and slipped out around Ciaran, not looking at him.

"Please, come in Sir LeafMane." He stepped back from the door to allow him inside.

"Please, dont be so formal Amlyn, we are already good friends, though this is our first meeting" Ciaran's drawn face betrayed a hint of the child he still was. "Well, first meeting you know of. But I will enter, thank you for the courtesy."

"May I get you something?" said Amlyn, limping over to a table covered in meats and cheeses. He placed his sword onto a clear space to one side.

"You may find this strange of a High Knight, Amlyn." Ciaran stated "but there is nothing I hate more than posh food and treatment, cease the courtesies, I dont even live inside the castle my friend, but wander like a hermit. You may have heard of the prodigal Knight, and if you have, well that is me."

Ciaran noticed a tabard hanging over the foot of the bed. Black in colour and with a red tau cross, like the shield at the gate. He pointed at it.

"Your clothing?" Amlyn just nodded. "Well that makes things a little more clear, and will bring me to the matter I came to discuss..." Amlyn suddenly interrupted.

"You say we have already met. I assume you were the one that brought me to the archdruid."

"You're almost right" stated Ciaran bluntly "True I saved your life and brought you to the ArchDruid, but I also filled a captains gap in your line that you seemed afraid to fill, and kept your attack together. I also shouted the warning about the Knight bearing down on you."

Amlyn just looked at Ciaran.

Ciaran turned his sharp eyes on Amlyn. "But that is not what I am here to discuss. Tell me about the White Order, and your connection with them, and bear in mind that if you speak wrong, the Kings Guards cannot be here in time, I want the truth." That was when Amlyn noticed the small warhammer slipping out of Ciarans sleeve. Then Ciaran placed it on the table and laughed. "I hate the White Order, they hate you, we have something in common, but I want to know why. I will not hurt you, just tell me!"

"You are not a High Knight." said Amlyn, disdain in his voice.

Ciaran looked at Amlyn in amazement.

"You drag your King's name through the mud, entering my room with my permission and then threatening me, while I am a guest of his Highness." Amlyn was livid. "You presume we are 'good friends', yet you insult me in the same breath by calling me a coward. I show you the courtesy that your title should demand and you have done nothing but spit on it." Amlyn stood in front of Ciaran and looked him in the eyes. "You cannot gain people's respect from a braggart's words and the force of arms," he said in a low voice. "You only gain their fear and their hate. And while it is too early for me to hold hate in my heart for you, you have not earnt either my fear or my respect. If you intend to live up to that title, I suggest you amend your attitude and behave like a man should. And not a boy."

The slap on the back almost sent Amlyn flying. "You've passed, friend, you stood up to me when you had no chance of victory. Ever since I saw you on the battlefield I saw a warrior after my own heart. I am sorry if you took me wrong, and whilst the respect I have for the King is not too high, to be brutally honest, I have the utmost respect for his father General Iorwerth." Ciaran laughed aloud. "Now I know you are of a mettle to help me, here."

He tossed the hammer at Amlyn, who noticed it was of soft metal and no use in battle. "I made it myself for just such an occasion. Forgive my childish ways, but I am but a child still, and I had to know whether you had strength to withstand the coming trials, and whether you were deserving of having a friend by your side." He pointed at the hammer. "Keep it, as a token of friendship."

Then

he turned towards the door and made to leave. "I will be at your side when they find you."

Amlyn let him get one foot outside the door. "As honour dictates, I fight alone."

"Honour be damned!" replied Ciaran, his back still turned "Honour has no meaning to these men, so they do not deserve honour shown them."

"I know not of your hatred for the Order, except to know that they must represent something else you despise. That you know hatred at all is disappointing. If you can put your overconfidence to one side long enough, then let it be for this moment when I tell you to let it go." Amlyn placed the useless hammer down on to the table next to his sword. "They are here for me, and I will answer their challenge. I will not add any further dishonours upon their accusations by involving others, for whatever reasons. My honour is my own to defend."

"Then if I cannot assist you, I will issue an alternate challenge of my own. You do not understand my hatred," and he turned, a fire burning in his eyes "No, you could not understand, but I must defend the honour of my village, a warrior of which was accused of being a member of YOUR warband. That is why I recognize your colours, and why I hate them."

Amlyn had no idea why the lad would wish to risk posing as a High Knight. It seemed his hatred was real enough however. It inspired him to momentarily look at his own view of the Order of the White Shield. And no matter how hard he tried, he found that he had not enough reason to muster up the same... enthusiasm that Ciaran seemed to hold. It would lead to bad things later, he thought to himself.

"If it helps, I have need of a second. But I offer this on the condition that no matter what happens, you must accept the outcome and not interfere, in any way. I expect your word of honour as a 'high knight' Sir Leafmane. Nothing less. A true friend would do as I ask."

"I am a true friend." said Ciaran turning back to the door. "But I also have as much claim on these men as you do. I will keep the duel fair, and be your second, as you wish, but should you fail..." he left the words hanging in the air.

Amlyn shrugged, suddenly tired and disinterested. He was happy to let Ciaran leave and take his brashness elsewhere to someone who may be amused by it. Should I fail, he thought, whatever happens afterwards would no longer be any concern of the dead. "The fight will be in three days, by the north gate."

Ciaran nodded. "Now I have to leave, another is within this castle who has blighted my honour and because of whom I have not lived a normal life these past few months. Lord Gretsworth stole my life when he kidnapped my masters wife, and this is a vengeance true and just. I will be there for the duel, and I will keep your honour." He paused in the doorway, turning to the corridor. "But I will have revenge!"

Amlyn closed the door behind him. And sighed. When Nia got back, he would get her to lock the door and refuse any visitors until morning. Things were already complicated enough as they were.

The Amlyn who entered the great hall early the next day was a completely different man than the one Hawk met yesterday. Although Sir Amlyn still limped, his stride was longer and faster, and his head was raised high. He was covered in a large dark leather surcoat, over which he wore a black tabard with a large red tau cross. By his side hung the ugliest sword Hawk had to admit he had ever seen.

Sir Amlyn crossed the floor and kneeled smoothly at the foot of Hawk's chair. "Your Highness," he stated in greeting.

"My lord," Hawk said. "I am glad to see you are doing better." Amlyn looked up at the King. His face was still pale, but the features were firm and grim. Hawk noticed that his eyes burned with a large amount of passion and emotion. From what, he could not say.

Hawk rose. "Lets walk in the gardens, my lord. I would like to talk to you privately."

Amlyn said nothing but did not hesitate to rise to his feet and follow Hawk out of the hall and into the garden. He was not curious as to what the King may have wished to discuss with him.

"Tell me about yourself," Hawk said when they were alone. "What kind of man are you? What do you believe in?"

The question took Amlyn by surprise, though he did not show it. "At this moment my lord I am thinking only of the next hour. If the circumstances were different, I would more inclined to think logically about the question. Alas, I admit I have nothing other than bloodshed to tell you of."

"Then tell me about that." Hawk did not seem shocked or anything.

Amlyn pondered once more, digging past the black thoughts that roamed within his head for a honest appraisal. "I am feared by an entire province. I am responsible either directly or indirectly for the slaughter of countless men, women and children. I have spent most of my adult life fighting in a war that I still don't understand."

The King looked at him. "What made you slaughter women and children? Are you an evil man?"

Amlyn looked down at the ground for a moment and frowned. "Evil is a lot more insidious than you think, your Highness," he said. "It feeds off a person's weakness." Amlyn thought back to the confrontation with Ciaran the previous night. "Your fear and hate are manipulated by skilled and clever people, and you are made to use it against those who stand to lose the most: the weak and vulnerable. You lose respect for yourself, and in the end you lose hope and submit to the cause of violence, because you cannot remember anything else."

"I understand better than you might think," Hawk whispered, remembering how close to despair he had come himself.

"Years ago I was considered an evil man. What I am now, I do not know. I fought alongside your men at Tamith, but does that make what I did before right? Can I be evil and good at the same time? Or is there no such thing as good or evil?" Amlyn pondered a moment further. "Perhaps there is only right or wrong. But then, a knight enforces the law by right of arms. I am stronger than the commoner, therefore I am the authority. Hence there may only be the strong and the weak." Amlyn rubbed his chin. Finally he sighed and looked at the King. "I don't have a simple answer for you, your Highness," he admitted. "But in the end, it is always other people that make the determination of being good or evil on your behalf."

"Do you regret the killing? Are you ready to repent? Repent with your whole heart and soul, and do good for the rest of your life?" Hawk asked.

"I can swear that I regret everything I've ever done before. I cannot, however, be capable of much in the way of good soon." There was a hint of sadness in voice. "I go after this to meet the Order. I am forced to spill the blood of those I have no real wish to harm once more, regardless of how they see me."

"I will not have that. No more bloodshed. Therefore I want to be present when you meet the order, and we will find a solution." The King said.

"Your Highness, when I say 'meet', it is only a more polite way of saying 'fight'. They have laid down their challenge and I have agreed to respond. You may discuss it with them should you choose, but the time draws close and I think they will not wish to alter what is to happen." Amlyn frowned again. "If I may ask, why would you wish to interfere in such a matter?"

"There will be no fights inside my kingdom." He said, "I forbid it. And believe me, I have that power. You will hold that meeting in front of me, and then we'll sort this thing out, one way or another." He acted every inch the King now.

Confused, Amlyn considered his options. He regretted mentioning the duel to the King now. It made things extremely difficult and inconvenient. It would have been much easier to fight and be done with it, but such matters seemed to be handled differently in Abertawe. As he was speaking with the King, he needed to give careful consideration to what he said in the next few moments, lest he risk offence.

"Do you intend to resolve every issue such as this that arises for those knights that serve you? Is there not enough in the way of duties as King that you must perform, that would allow you to take their matters into your own hands? Please forgive the nature of my words, but as a knight it is my duty to defend my own honour, and to have others do so on my behalf..." He shook his head. He couldn't finish the sentence, for even the concept sounded bad enough.

"If that involves a major blood letting, yes I will interfere. I see it as my duty, to defend my subjects, and knights are subjects. You could never survive this on your own. And I will see to it that you will have at least a fair chance." The young King said gravely.

Amlyn recognised the loophole and took it gladly. "Your highness, at the moment I am errant and cannot be called one of your knights," said Amlyn. "I serve no lord at this point."

"You served my father at the border. We owe you for that. And you are on our land." He said.

"I chose to fight for your father of my own free will," said Amlyn. "You owe me nothing, your highness. And while this is indeed your land, that alone is not enough to claim my fealty and make me one of your knights. I say this with the greatest respect for you and those who serve under you. I simply wish to make it clear that there are no debts of any sort."

"I know that." Hawk said. "If that was possible, would you want to stay?"

I cannot wander forever, thought Amlyn. "Once I finish with the Order, then I will pledge my sword to your crown, should you desire my loyalty. Besides which," said Amlyn, turning to face the King, "I must ask a question: what do you see when you look at me?"

"Honestly? In you I see what I could have become, if things had gone just a little bit differently. And I see a spark of the man you were, and could become again." The King said quietly.

Amlyn could find no answer for that. It was not the sort of response he was expecting. After an uncomfortable pause, he said softly, "Do you think I can hold my own against the Order, as I am now?"

"To be honest again, right now I don't think so. You are weak from your wounds, and they are with many. And I do not think that is fair." The King replied.

Amlyn looked away at the flowers that lined the path. Colours of fire, red and yellow and orange set the beds alight with a sunlit flame that no doubt would please the eye of many who walked here.

"I know my weaknesses." He pondered for a moment. "I received a visit from the boy who calls himself the High Knight of Wind last night. He saw a wounded older man, of no great stature, and in his overconfident manner thought that I would have no chance should I raise my sword against him." Amlyn turned back to the King. "He probably would have been right," he said quietly. "I cannot best good knights man to man, particularly as I am now."

Hawk nodded.

"But I have fought day by day in a war that stretched years. I have learnt much about how to fight in chaos. Should I meet most good knights in the confusion of battle..." said Amlyn, pausing. "I would win. That is the edge I will take with me to the Order, along with my wounds and my passion. They underestimate me at their own risk."

"I still prefer it, if you hold this meeting here, in the palace," the King said.

"I would not want blood spilt within your home, your highness. As I said, I do not believe there will be any parting on friendly terms. This may be hard to believe, but I'd prefer an unfair fight at this stage."

"See that you meet him in the open and I would like to send one of my people with you as an impartial judge, because I want it made clear that I will not condone a killing on my ground." Hawk said seriously.

"As you wish, your highness." Amlyn was happy to compromise along these grounds, and relieved that he did not assert his authority immediately. As long as it was someone who would not become involved. "I am to meet the Order in the next hour, so they had best be ready soon."

"I will see to it." The King promised.

"I respect your advice, and I thank you for your hospitality and kindness. All I can offer you is the assurance that I go to this without hatred or bitterness for those involved. I had not contemplated my own honour much in the past, but now for various reasons I feel it is more important than ever." He stood back and bowed before the King. "If I am successful," he added, "I will return and pledge my loyalty to you, as well as swearing to make amends for any of my past wrongs."

"In that case come back and we will discuss your future in this kingdom", he promised.

Amlyn began to leave, but paused. "I think you will make a just and compassionate king," he said. "I am glad that I had this talk with you." Then he turned and walked out of the garden.

Hawk watched him go. He hoped he would work things out, and come back. There was a lot of good still in the man, hawk was determined to bring it out.

Seth approached Deirdre the next day as he promised looking like he had had very little sleep, but was just as curious as before. He had prepared in every way he could think of not knowing what to expect. He bowed and said, "I am ready to be your squire."

"Are you sure?" she asked coolly, not moving from where she sat. She fingered the small cluster of grapes she had been picking at with little appetite. "I had an interesting conversation with Lady Bronwen yesterday, Seth."

Seth looked up to her with surprise and asked, "What about?"

"Well, you, of course," she answered simply. "What else would we speak of?"

"I'm not sure. What was spoken about me if I may ask?" He wondered if she had confided something in her.

"Seth, why do you want to become a knight?" she asked flatly, suddenly. The sudden question completely threw him off balance. "And I want the truth."

"Partly to become more noble and partly because it is a dream I had, but never thought I would attain." He answered honestly.

The captain didn't flinch. "And not because you want to be a better candidate for the princess' hand?" she asked, her piercing gaze almost boring right through him.

"That was part of the reason, but not all of it," he said just as honestly.

"The knighthood is NOT to be used as a way to attract women, is THAT understood?" she asked harshly, her anger evident. "That is disgusting and it is not what the organization is for. I have a good mind to deny my previous acceptance of you as my squire!"

Seth stood and said, "Please, it was a side issue ma'am. It was not even close to my main reason. Please

understand that. I did not want to become a knight to win over Lady Bronwen. Granted, that may be a side effect that would be good, but I am after Knighthood so I can serve the Kingdom better." He was adamant and very serious.

Deirdre eyed him critically, her face betraying none of the myriad of thoughts flowing through her mind. "Okay, Seth. I believe you; I also have faith in our king that he would not appoint you for such reason. But if I find different..." She grimaced.

Motioning for him to sit again, she waited until he was comfortable. "Let us start with your education, since it is not might that makes right, but knowledge that is the key to power. Can you read?"

"Yes," he nodded with a smile. He added, "Thank you for believing me."

With a curt nod as a reply, she rose smoothly from her chair to a pile of texts behind her. Handing him the Bible, she opened it to the first page. "Read the first chapter aloud. I want to check your level of learning," she explained simply.

He smiled and said, "I've read this before, but you got it. In the beginning..." And so on until he was finished. He pronounced everything correctly and well.

He was taught by the same man about God and his word and how to read most anything.

Deirdre smiled at the rendition, but only while the man was engrossed in the text. She didn't believe much of the One God religion, but she had to admit that the text was beautiful on its own, despite the overtendency to dwell on genealogy. Especially while read by someone with such a grasp of the words.

"Good," she said in the same tone that made him wonder whether she truly thought so, or whether she was simply glad she didn't have to teach him the letters. "Now, how is your Latin?" she asked, handing him another tome.

"Not as good, but I do know quite a bit. Tuus magna," he said as a compliment. He wondered what she had in store for him.

"Good. Then I want you to start by studying these books," she began, handing him three leather-bound and well-worn books, "on strategy, counterattacks and court rules and regulations." She had picked up that final book in the palace library; her own lacking in that skill had prompted her to be sure that Seth was knowledgeable. "When you finish with these, tell me and I will get you more." She studied his statement, expecting some sort of reaction.

He looked at her and said, "I will let you know." He was looking forward to learning all of these things since he had no clue on some of them. He read them until about six to seven hours passed. He finished and

He returned and said, "I am finished. I am sorry if that took too long."

Deirdre stared at him, astonished. "Too long?" she repeated dumbly. "I hadn't expected to see you for several days, Seth!" she exclaimed, despite herself. Laughing to herself, she motioned for him to sit. It seemed this squire wasn't as good as she had expected after all.

He was more. Oh so much more.

Codi started to the sound of the farmer's voice, awakened from her napping state.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, this is as far as I go. Tis getting late, so you should hurry, now." In the dimming light of the evening, Codi could make out a warm-hearted smile on the old man's face. Perhaps he had a grand-daughter her age.

"I very much appreciate your help, sir." Sore and jostled, Codi grabbed her things – a lantern, a few provisions, and the pack with her spare clothing – and climbed off the back of the hauling wagon. Dusting the hay from her skirt, she was met with a kind thought. Approaching the farmer, she began to fish through her pouch. "I don't suppose you could direct me to a decent inn, sir?" Codi smiled, holding up a few coins in thanks.

The farmer chuckled, waving away her offer away as he said, "I'm afraid I don't know about the inns, but I'm sure you could easily ask one of the townsfolk who keep residence here. Catch someone before they're all to bed, but you be careful!" And with that, the old man flicked his reigns and ordered the horse on a route toward home.

Codi stuffed her coins back into her pouch and lit her lantern, the sound of the wagon slowly fading into the distance. The evening became quiet, and she had some ways to go before she would be immersed within denizens. Situating her belongings, Codi was soon on the trek.

So much to be done, thought she. A job must be found, as well as a bed to call her own... and how good it would be to sleep on a bed again! The girl mused in her thoughts, and after what seemed like an eternity of walking, Codi finally found herself among buildings. An inn would surely be close to the main road, she pondered. Her eye was distracted by a figure nearby, and she peered in its direction.

"Excuse me!" Codi held up her lantern instinctively, trying to get a better look at who she was addressing. "Excuse me! Could you please direct me to a nearby inn?" She asked hopefully, politely, and though not without a hint of caution in her voice...

After Sir Amlyn left the King's presence, he walked out of the garden and back to the foyer where he had left Nia. She saw him coming, and quietly fell into step with him as he passed her, heading through the main doors and out into the courtyard. She followed him accross the paved expanse, still marvelling at how smoothly he managed to stroll despite the lingering wound in his leg. Her thoughts were interrupted when Amlyn gently grabbed her on the arm and guided her to one side of the courtyard gates. He then stopped, and placed something into her hand.

"Take this," he began. It was a small leather pouch. "Should anything happen to me shortly I want thee to sell it."

Nia opened the pouch into her palm. A single, large red ruby spilled out, glinting brightly in the morning sun. She glanced towards the black sword on Amlyn's hip, and saw in disbelief the empty socket that once housed the stone in her hand. He then told her the minimum she should accept for it. She was shocked even further. "My... my lord, that is a small fortune!"

"It is only a third of what it is worth. It is perfect and flawless, and the smart merchant will recognise it as such and will know of the return they may earn by it's purchase and reshaping. Put it away, in a safe place," he said.

Nia popped the gem back into the pouch and secured it. A million questions spun through her mind, but she felt a sense of foreboding that prevented her from asking even one.

Amlyn then handed her a piece of sealed paper. "This is a letter of authorisation. I had one of the King's heralds witness it. It will legitimise thy claim to sell the ruby on my behalf."

"Why are you doing this?" Nia said.

Amlyn smiled weakly at her. "Ye must remain here, for there is one last task I require of thee."

"But... You wish to go alone?" She stared at him, aghast at his disregard for his own well-being. She could still see the layer of pale sickness through his features.

Amlyn sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. "Why are ye concerned now, and not before?"

"Why won't you accept help with this?" she said, ignoring his complaint. "You allowed me to stay, yet now you still seek to abandon me, even at the time that you know you need me the most!"

Amlyn tucked his right hand under the armpit of his amputated limb, using it to hold his good arm against his chest. He scrutinised her for a moment, narrowing his eyes. She glared back at him.

After a while his gaze softened. He looked away at the castle for a moment, then turned back to face her. His shoulders and head drooped slightly, matched by a sadness that drifted into his eyes. "Nia," he said, "I am past the point where I could truly have any hope of reaching what you aspire to. I know ye are fond of calling it grotesque self-pity, but unless ye could experience the same sleepless nights that I endure, then I think thou could understand not. But the point is, I hope that ye never do understand. Thou can become something much greater than I could ever be. But to grow in my shadow is to take on something of it. And I could never continue to live knowing that I could pass on a part of my legacy to someone who deserves it the least."

"So you would choose to turn your back to everyone who would make their own choice to trust you," Nia said, her voice laced with sorrow of her own.

"Aye," he said. "My ability only ever came from anger and rage. Without them, I am nothing. With them, I cannot even control their consequences."

Nia reached inside her surcoat and pulled out the pouch and letter. She took Amlyn's hand and placed the items inside. Closing his fingers over them, she said, "I have faith in you. I have long been scared of you, but now I know that it's only been fear from who you are now. If you think I can rise to something greater, then that tells me that you can do the same." She nodded. "When that happens, it would truly be something wonderful to be involved with."

For a moment, Amlyn saw a strength and maturity that was like seeing a mother give birth to child. He felt a sense of awe that was quickly overcome by a feeling of despair, as he struggled to understand what he had done to deserve such faith, given freely. He turned his back to Nia and took a step towards the gate, struggling to keep his composure.

Nia watched him fight with himself. She wished he would for once accept his own vulnerability and pass beyond it. But then he spoke once more, this time only to give his instructions as to what she must do. He did not turn to face her again, nor did he say goodbye. So she waited where he had left her, and wondered what it would take to break through the walls he had so carefully made for himself. If she ever saw him alive again.

As Amlyn left the courtyard, he finally realised that the persistant sickness inside was the loneliness he had always ignored.

Nervously biting her lip, Deirdre crept up to the doorway. The doors were slightly ajar, just enough to allow her to peer through. She didn't want to interrupt Lord Iorwerth - she was certain he had enough on his mind for three men. Poking her head in further, she looked around the room, trying to spot the king's father.

Iorwerth was pacing, he was not a happy man. He was worried about his wife, his daughter, make that daughters, his younger son. And he was thinking what he could do for his older son, Hawk was taking on too much himself. But he looked up when he heard a noise in the door opening. Then he smiled, the female captain of the guard was one of his favorites. "Captain, come in. What can I do for you?"

Slipping in through the crack in the doors, she gently pushed them shut behind her. "I have a question, my lord. That is... I need your advice. I mean-" she halted, frustrated and embarrassed.

"My lord, I find myself at a loss. Lady Bronwen's bodyguard, Seth, has recently become my squire... but I must admit that I haven't a clue as to what I should do." She flushed. "I never served at court myself, nor was I ever a squire myself. I am completely ignorant." It took a lot for her to admit that final sentence, and she was more than afraid that this admission would lower the man's opinion of herself. And this was one opinion she did not want lowered.

Iorwerth succeeded in not smiling because he knew she would take that wrong. "I`d be honored though it's not that difficult, squires were made to make our life easier so you use them for all the rotten jobs you hate doing yourself." Now he smiled, "and there is the little detail of teaching them all you know and make sure they make good knights."

"But my lord," she began, battling back the urge to pace nervously. "I know so little of being a knight myself." Her lips twitched into the beginnings of a crooked smile, though her eyes were almost desperate. "I make it up as I go along. Are there specific teachings that I do not know of?"

"Go with your feelings." He took pity on her. "And if you need advice, if you are ever not sure, come to me. I will help." Iorwerth said with a fatherly smile.

Deirdre smiled gratefully, her relief clear on her face. "Thank you, my lord. That means a lot to me." She turned to go, then paused and turned back. "How are you, my lord?" she asked suddenly.

Iorwerth was taken by surprise by the question, he did not have the time to put on his usual poker face. "I am fine." He lied, trying to hide that he was worried to death about his children and his wife, but being a high noble, and older than most people around him, he had nobody to confide in.

Biting her lip at the expression of pain that passed across the general's face, Deirdre's emerald eyes softened. So rare an occurrance, Iorwerth was struck by how... feminine... her features could become once the harshness was wiped from it. Suddenly sure of herself, Deirdre glided closer to him, a faint smile touching upon her lips. "My lord, you and your wife have been so kind and accepting when no one else would be. I have depended on you both for advice and support, but I have never had the opportunity to tell you how much I have appreciated you.

"Recently, I've only been able to stand by and watch as problem after problem hits you and you have withstood the deluge bravely, but, for the most part, alone." She paused, not wanting to bring up the pain of the loss of his brother. "But I would be honored if you... that is..." Her fluid speech began to fall apart as her mind caught up with her heart. "If you need anything at all, or even an ear to listen, know that I will always be nearby."

Iorwerth was taken aback a little bit, none of his subordinates had ever dared do a thing like that. His first urge was to get angry, he was the general, he stood above them, he did not show fear or any kind of feeling. Sometimes he wished fervently that he could, for these days he could not even to his wife, Isa was too fragile right now.

He smiled. "Thank you, my lady. From almost the moment we met, I have come to view you like one of my daughters. You are dear to my heart, and my wife's. And I thank you for this offer, but it is not right. A father does not ask his daughter for advice, but I am pleased that you care." He finished gently.

Deirdre bit her lip; not in fear or trepidation, but to keep it from trembling like a child's. Impulsively, she dashed forward and once again, her tiny size belied her speed. In an instant, her arms were wrapped about the general in a hug, her face pressed against his massive chest. "Thank you," she whispered, lacking anything else to say.

Iorwerth felt a little uncomfortable, he had not expected that from her. At the same time it made him feel very good, and he smiled.

Pulling away, her face coloring at her sudden outburst, Deirdre bowed low. "If it is okay, I would like to head to the infirmary to check if your son has been brought in yet, my lord."

"I would be grateful if you do that. And give him my love." Iorwerth responded. "And remember, if there's anything I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask."

"And you, my lord," she added gently. "I will always be here for you."

Seth sat atop of an outcropping that viewed most of the city at night. It was a short walk from the castle but held a spectacular view. He was crouched down and deep in thought as he stared from the city to the heavens. He had recently dawned a white wweighted claok to aid in his training. He did not wear this everywhere, just for his training.

Seth thought about the Princess and how much he truly loved her. He knew she was trying to protect herself, or him, or mayeb even both. She hadn't said it, but he knew by what she did say. He just hoped he could figure out some way to win her over or find some way to get her out from under the Earl.

He had already arranged for a dozen Roses to be sent to her with a small note telling her once more that he loved her. He hoped she would take it well. He would have to figure out what to do. He was not sure how, but knew that he had to. He rose and went back to his lodging and took off his weighted clothing. It seemed to way a ton at first, but he was beginning to get used to it. As much as you can at least. He layed down and fell alseep with bronwen on his mind. The next day was tiem for more squire work.