The Conjured and the exiles

Leoff shifted his feet trying to warm them from the encroaching cold that permeated the stone fort that he and the other men in his company were now occupying. He lifted his sword above his head, pointing it at the moon as if he sought to challenge it. A single flake of snow fell onto the tip of his blade, but he hardly noticed it as he just stood there in deep thought looking at the dull colourless gem set in its hilt. He wondered if his father would be proud of him. He had not imagined that he would be living the familiar life of a man at arms again, not after what he had been through in the arena. Sometimes he could even imagine that that nightmare had never happened. He was working hard as a proper soldier; it was honest labour, he served with good men, disciplined men, and the basic sword drill and chores was like a well known prayer to him.

To be a soldier was a simple satisfying existence, you just had to do as you were ordered, go here, do this, do that, it would be easy just to forget himself and do as he was told. But Leoff was not stupid, no mater how he might want to forget he knew that what Lord Gaius had in mind was nothing less than starting a war. Looking to the western mountains with the sun setting behind them, he wondered whether he would be able to protect his sister from the coming storm.

Leoff could hear the quietly padding footsteps coming up behind him, but he didn’t even bother to turn around, or for that matter even feel tempted to defend himself. There were only two people that he knew that could sneak up on him so quietly, his sister and Vas so there was really no reason to put for him to put up his guard. A fire warmed hand was laid on the junction of his shoulder, and unlike what would happen with most people, Leoff did not flinch away from the touch.

‘If I didn’t know any better I’d say that you actually wanted to catch a cold.’ The deceivingly soft voice rang in his ears, and for the first time that night he felt some form of tranquility. But it wasn’t always so, not that long ago Vas’s interruption would probably irritated the hell out of him. In response to Vas’s comment Leoff just ‘hmphed’ and slowly lowered his sword, feeling his muscles contract on the way down, the slight twinge in is shoulder and a newer ache in his side. He knew that Vas had noticed the slight wince. But the dark haired man knew better than to offer Leoff pity or sympathy, Leoff did not want it or need it, and so without saying another word began to play his lute softly. Hearing Vas play was the only time the multitude of thoughts that ran through his mind stopped, the only time he ever knew any peace. For some reason this always surprised him. In the cold air that came down from the mountains the lute’s notes rang clearer, truer and more piercing resonating somewhere deep within his soul.

But soon Vas’ s fingers faltered on the strings and Leoff’s face returned to his nearly ever present scowl as his mind once more turned back to the multitude of concerns that weighed upon him worries that his work during the day gave him no time to dwell upon. Feeling he did something wrong by the grim set of his friend’s face Vas moved to leave. Leoff turned to look at him and he did he didn’t fail to notice the look of apology in those dark eyes.

‘Why did you stop?’

‘Despite how much playing for you might appeal to me, I must decline while we’re out here in this freezing weather.’ Vas smiled, glad that he had not annoyed the stoic young man. He chaffed his hands together, and then blew on them. ‘If you came inside instead of deciding to gossip with the birds all night I could play for you.’

‘Shouldn’t you be getting to bed yourself? ‘Leoff asked. ‘Your on stag before dawn are you not if you get caught napping the captain will string you up by your nuts?’

‘Isn’t that your job now sergeant Sheld?’ Vas smiled.

‘What?’

‘Disciplining the men under you.’

Leoff smiled. ‘Not as long as you don’t give me a reason to.’

Vas chuckled and then turned to the Nheimmian man. ‘As for sleeping I’d rather spend some time with you out here rather than back inside.’ He paused a little uncomfortable, but righted himself with a hasty explanation ‘Grag’ s driving me nuts always asking me to sing the same drinking song!’

‘Canal Street?’

Vas shook his head, ‘Worse the ballad of Lord Killdare!’

‘The one that goes, Oh, mother, mother, dear? May I go to the fair? May I go with Lord Roger, Lord Roger of Kildare? And there’s something about stuffing her up with cake? Then...how did it go, oh. And he stuffed it right up her coming home from the fair.’

‘Please no more, if I hear that song again tonight I will hurl myself from the battlements!’ Vas pleaded. Leoff laughed and they fell back in to companionable silence.

‘You should celebrate you know, getting promoted so soon.’ Vas said.

Leoff shrugged. ‘I already had the experience. I was brought up in a castle like this.’

‘I remember you saying, your dad was a Captain wasn’t he?

‘Hmh.’ Leoff replied sparingly, distracted it would seem by his own thoughts as he fell back in to silence. ‘I have to do my rounds in the stables.’ He turned to his dark haired friend who looked at him like a puppy who had just eaten his master’s slippers, hopeful but unsure that he will win his masters approval. That right there was one of the main reasons he considered Vas to be such a bastard. One slightly disappointed look from the man made him feel like an arsehole, Vas probably knew this…making him all the more a bastard. Leoff sighed and relented. ‘Want to come?’

‘Sure, I will help if I can, but I don’t know much about horses aside from riding them poorly.’

‘You’re not that bad.’ Leoff replied. Vas raised a sceptical brow, and Leoff gave a half smile. ‘Ok you’re pretty bad, but with practice you might improve.’

‘Somehow I doubt that.’

The stables were a long open fronted wooden building built against the forts western wall. Horses were tided in lines. It was dark inside; lamps were not to be kept within the for fear of fire so it took a moment for the men’s eyes to adjust to the shifting light that their sole lamp gave off. The faint lamp light that did occasionally reach within cast strange shadows of the horses against the walls. Despite the open front, the warmth of the horse’s bodies and the insulation of the sweet smelling straw made the stables relatively snug.

Leoff made his way down the aisle between the drowsing animals. Leoff pushed the one horse over. It lent against his hand, resting the leg closest to him. Leoff pushed back harder making a clicking noise and finally it reluctantly moved over, giving him enough room to look at its neighbour, a leggy bay.

Vas stood back, watching Leoff feel down the horse’s leg, gently applying ointment to its wounded hock. ‘What happened to him?’

‘He got kicked.’ Leoff indicated to the end of the stalls where a warhorse was tied slightly away from the others. ‘All these horse’s together no bloody room between them; something like this was bound to happen.’ He complained as he stood up, giving the horse a scratch over its back. ‘If he’s lucky the scab won’t harden and scar.’

‘How come you know so much about horses?’ Vas asked curiously.

‘My dad bred them in Nheim.’ Leoff said. ‘When we left we kept some of the horses with us, but when we ran out of money my father had to sell them. For him I think it was like selling his children. I never understood it, a horse is a horse, it has a purpose. But my father, he really loved them; my sister was the same, horse crazy.’ By then he had made his way to where a tall bright chestnut was tethered. He gave the horse a fond rub.

‘Is this the horse the captain gave you?’

‘Yer, imperial thoroughbred, crossed dray horse.’ He petted the horse’s neck.

‘He should be a good weight carrier then.’ Vas said, coming close and also petting the horses swan like neck.

Leoff smiled in the dark. ‘Hay Vas what are you trying to say?’ He petted his belly. ‘Are you calling me fat?’

‘No, but you are a mountain of a man.’

‘You’re hardly a fairy yourself.’ He retorted to the man who was only just slightly shorter than he was himself.

‘Oh you know I think you’re perfect really!’ A mischievous glint came to his obsidian eyes, he patted his friend’s stomach, ‘Of course it wouldn’t hurt you to lay off the pies for a while.’

‘You bastard!’ Leoff laughed and pushed him away. Vas pushed back laughing. Pushing turned in to grappling, and trying to kick the other’s legs away from underneath them. Leoff the larger man got the upper hand for a moment and managed to topple Vas who hit the straw with an ‘Omph!’ Vas still had some tricks up his sleeve and he tackled his friend at the knees so that Leoff to sprawled on the floor. Leoff retaliated wrestling his dark haired companion, taking his head in the crook of his one arm in a mock attempt at a choke hold.

They wrestled like boys, like puppies, or cubs, playing the oldest game in the world, a game where all you had to do was pin your opponent’s back to the ground for the duration of ten counts. The young men rolled about, each trying to gain the advantage, they grasped each others clothes, and limbs looking for leverage. They pried each other off only to clutch close again. Leoff was the stronger, despite only recently recovering from his wounds, but Vas was not to be easily outdone, having play fought his siblings, cousins, and other boys back in his mining town home like semi feral packs of dogs he knew a wealth of tricks to wriggle out of a pinning grip.

Unfortunately Vas over confident gave Leoff an opening and the younger man used his whole weight to force his dark haired opponent to the floor, their straining bodies pressed flush together. Vas twisted and arched underneath him trying to squirm from underneath him as Leoff panting somewhat laughed at his efforts.

‘One, two, three...’

‘No, I can still..’

‘four...five...six.. ‘

Vas thrust his hips up in a last ditch attempt to get his friend off him, he almost succeeded, but Leoff hung on. ‘Seven...eight....nine...’ Finally Vas defeated lay still underneath the younger man and joined in his mirth laughing.

‘Ok,ok, you win.’ Vas conceded looking up to the grinning face above him. Hazel eyes which looked almost golden in the lamp light smiled triumphantly down in to bright eyes of polished jet. Eyes so bright that each man could see his own face reflected in the others dilated pupils. At that moment both men thought the same thing ‘How dose he see me?’ They stayed pressed together in the straw for a moment longer as they caught their breath before Vas laughed and said. ‘Now get of me fatso, you’re crushing me!’

‘Call me that again, and crushing will be the least of your problems!’ Leoff laughed well naturedly and helped him up, then he bushed himself down, the red in his cheeks may have just been from exertion.

‘So what are you calling your horse?’ Vas said moving on to a safe topic of conversation.

‘Borange.’

‘Borange?!’ Vas spluttered. ‘You can’t be serious?!’

‘Why not, he’s big and he is orange, so Borange?’

‘No imagination.’ Vas replied shaking his head. Leoff wondered why his heart remained beating like he had run a race until Vas left his sight.


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Captain Vespa looked at herself critically in the mirror. Her impossibly long brown hair was bound back in its usual plait. Across her forehead was a severely cut fringe which ran just above her brow, so that her weather gilded face almost could be imagined to be a mask. Her lips were full, lusciously curved with an inclination to a sarcastic twist. She petted her cheek and turned her face, her eyebrows were harshly plucked so that the haughty arch to them was even more pronounced. Carefully she applied some kohl to outline her cat like eyes. Pleased with the effect she left her apartment above her barracks in the city and made her way to the plaice a collection of scrolls in hand.

Vespa had come a long way from the little wandering brat that she had once been. Her family were members of the Isra penniless travellers who sang for their suppers. They were never welcome in once place for long, exiled from their homeland generations ago, they drifted from town to town, city to city who at best were suspicious, at worse were openly hostile. Vespa had looked upon the girls in the towns with envy, they knew where their next meal was coming from, they had pretty dresses made from fabric, and not just rags! They had toys, china faced dollys, not just what could be carved from bits of wood.

One day a farmer asked if her troop would stay the winter after helping with the harvest, his own work force having been wiped out by the blood plague, her father thanked the farmer but said no on account of Isra pride, they could not for forfeit their freedom. Freedom’s all very well she thought at the time, but freedom, and pride are bitter and empty meal’s for a child to stomach when there is nothing else to eat. It had been a lean and miserable winter, that of her twelfth year, and so she swore one cold and hungry night that she would when the time came leve her troupe, and go on to something better, something with more food.

When she turned fifteen her troop pulled in to small mountain town far to the west. It was in this place that she decided that it would be time to make good her escape when she saw what she knew was a recruiting drive. The selling point to this was the offer of three square meals a day, a roof over your head, and a good wage. Only one problem presented itself, Vespa was not a man; she was not even a boy. However such problems could be overcome. Her troupe was actors after all, and for years she was used to playing the part of the young prince. And so with a knife she hacked off her long hair, donned some leggings and a boyish swager and headed for the line up.

A tall masked noble, and a young blond man, his captain walked down the line. The functional armour both wore proclaimed them to be military men. From the expression on the young blond man’s face she could see that he weighed them up much as one might look at the points of a horse one might by. Even as they passed her by their countenances did not change but she overheard the Lord with a voice live a rumbling storm saying ‘....The boy as well.’

‘But he is so small?’

‘Veione you need a new page. And after what happened to Lord Rorick’s son I doubt any of my nobles will want to send a replacement.’

‘Look it’s not my fault that I didn’t keep my eye on him when...’

‘Veione, caring for a brat this young might with some luck make you more responsible.’

The blond man laughed. ‘Some luck?’

‘One can only hope.’

And so it was the Vespa became page to the reckless, bawdy, blue eyed captain. And she was happy with her square meals, a comfortable bed, and all she had to do was follow the vigorous blond man around. And she discovered he was every bit as bad as the roomers would paint him, he drank to much, he gambled his wages away frivolously, there were quite a few nights where she was left sleeping on a whore house sofa as Veione entertained not just one woman but two or three. One evening as she fumed at been left under another window on look out for a returning father; Veione noticed her disapproval when he finally appeared he turned to her and drawled, ‘Look just say it, whatever you’re thinking I would rather hear it than have you sheath like that!’ And from then on she would often scold him, surprisingly despite the fact she was just his page he took it with good humour. Not that a word she said made a lick of difference to he behaviour.

But he was never late for work; he was tough but fair, always ready with a word of praise or joke. What he didn’t know about horses was not worth knowing, and he began to teach her to fence, showing her ways a smaller lighter opponent might beet someone much larger. He liked to ruffle her hair roughly as he passed as one might pet a favourite dog. He was a rake, but under all that he was a good man. One couldn’t help but like him when he smiled at you, even if you were angry at him, and she sometimes hated him for that.

It was two months before he discovered that she was in fact not a boy but a young woman. On that terrible day she stood slack jawed in the baths, her arm covering her small breasts, one hand trying to hide what should not have been at the junction of her legs. Veione had calmly offered her a towel. She expected him to be angry, she expected him to cast her out in to the street by her ear. But he just looked at her with those intrinsically kind blue eyes then he began to laugh, laughing until he cried. ‘Now what a fine masquerade you have been leading us in eh?’ He smiled slapping his leg. ‘What a good joke! You had me totally fooled!’

‘You’re not mad?’ She asked, standing with her chin rose defiantly, but his smile was disarming.

‘Not a bit of it.’

‘And you’re not going to send me away?’

‘What, and send away the only person to fool me since our lord, I think not. You’re far too interesting.’ He smiled wider. Relived Vespa managed to smile faintly back. Veione considered her for a moment, he whistled between his strong white teeth. ‘But what to do now?’ he laughed again. ‘ No, he wouldn’t care a fig for that..’

‘Who?’ She asked confused.

‘Oh Lord Darcia, I expect he knew from the outset that you were a girl. In fact I bet my eye that he did. ‘

Vespa remained his page for the next two years. And though he would say that he raised her like a daughter, he was rather more like a young uncle. He teased her, trained her, he took her scolds but continued to do as he pleased. He remained blind to her changes, treating her as the young girl she had once been and not the young woman she had become much to her annoyance. He no longer dragged her along on his amorous nocturnal adventures. As time had passed she became curious about their lord, and realised that it was through him she would find advancement. He was the fount of all patronage, and she sought to impress him. Apparently she had as by age twenty four she was promoted to the rank of captain. Lord Darcia was everything that Veione was not, aloof, proud, responsible, polite, dark, and perhaps a little cold. And she thought herself in love for the first time. Of course a man like Darcia would not be interested in a woman like her.

The captain would admit to being vain, Veione’s influence rubbing off, by eighteen she knew that she had grown up in to a very attractive young woman, when she walked down the lines all the men watched her. And in time she learnt how useful this could be, the only two men who were immune to her goddess like body were Veione and their lord Darcia. Veione’s rejection was still a source of pain that she cared not to look to closely at. As frosty Darcia was she doubted that he could love anything but his lands. Still she was not the only woman in Bala who sighed for him, hoping that he might look their way and allow them the chance to melt his heart. But likely as not the Duke would marry a lady, a political marraige, which honoured his consequence and rank. Vespa’s heart had accepted this though it rankled that he was the only man who did not look twice at her it only made him the more desirable. Now as a captain she had been able to spend more time with the object of her desire’s, trusted, and her advice sought for, she had even managed on rare occasion to engage him in flirtation. But all her idle dreams had been spoiled when that girl had arrived!

It was a nasty surprise to hear that their lord had found a woman while he was away. Even so Vespa had not expected to face a young girl who could have posed as her double. Vespa knew competition when she saw it. And to add insult to injury she overheard one of her own men commenting that Dae, or Daen, or whatever her name was, looked like she could be Vespa’s younger prettier sister. After beasting the ill fortuned scout, making him do two hundred press-ups and clean the privies for a week, she then swore to wage war upon the Nheimmian woman. Unfortunately to date apart from some rather brilliant rumours she had started the younger girl seemed to have come off unscathed.

With more thoughts of revenge in her head she made her way up to lord Darcia’s chambers. As she went to open the door Veione’s warning echoed in the hall. 'You might want to knock before you go in?'

She flipped her plait over her shoulder and leveled a green stare at her old captain. 'I have never knocked before.'

The blond man waggled a mocking finger at her. 'The situation has changed.'

'What do you mean?' She huffed, placing a hand on her hip.

Veione rolled his eyes haven-wards. ‘I mean that our Lord might not be happy about the intrusion.'

'It's her isn’t it; he has the girl with him?’ She hissed.


‘That is none of your business Vespa.’ Veione gave her a keen look. Vespa knew that look; it was the look he had given her when he had turned her down. She was still a virgin, and he was drunk, she had grabbed a handful of his golden locks and dragged his mouth to hers. He had tasted of whisky and rum, and it had warmed her, it had made her blood boil. But then he had pulled back, and his eyes as blue as sapphires, darkened by lust searched her face. With a shake of his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was doing he stayed her wandering hands clasping them in his and held them up to his chest. Apologetically he said firmly, ‘Not like this.’ his eyes were more serious than any she had ever seen them. And with that he left her, the tears that stung her eyes prevented her from seeing if he had looked back as he went.


Shaking herself out of her reminiscence she scowled and showed him the scrolls. ‘I have business with him.’


‘Scout reports?’


‘Yes from the east, Our Lord requested that I get the news to him as soon as was convenient.’


‘Note the word convenient Vespa my dear.’ Veione said levelly, his one golden brow raised in mockery and challenge.


‘This is my earliest convenience!’


‘But it may not be his.’ Veione plucked the scrolls from her hands, his lightning quick reactions faster than she could even hope to match. She knew from experience that he was just toying with her. The blond captain would never undermine her with is childish playfulness in front of her men, but with no one else around he was free to irritate her with his games. ‘If you want them come and get them!’


‘Give them back.’ She demanded.


‘No, you have to take them from me. You used to love this game.’ Veione retorted, his smile wide, his blue eyes bright. But if he thought that she would lower herself in such a way then he was sorely mistaken.


‘I used to love a lot of things.’ She scowled, and then turned from him she didn’t want to spend another moment with the insufferable man. She didn’t fail to notice the hurt in his face, even after all this time they could still wound each other. Even though she was a woman grown he was the one person who knew the few words that could break her, it was the fear of those words and the strange look in his eyes that made her leave. ‘Keep them; make sure you give them to our lord as soon as possible.’


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Leoff lay on the borders of sleep, in that foggy neither world where you are dimly aware of your surroundings as well as the beckoning of your dreams on the other side somewhere like figures lost in mist. The only thing that prevented him from slipping in to blissful unconsciousness was the dull ache in his side. From what Vas had told him it had been touch and go for a while, he lost a lot of blood, his heart beet had been as faint and fast as a small animal’s at times, he had been as pale and cold as a corpse. None of those things were particularly comforting thoughts to try to sleep upon, not when sleep itself was in its own way a small breath of death.


The door of his room open, it was Vas come to share his bed a waft of cool air brushed over his face pulling him towards the shore of wakefulness. On the brief draught came the scent of leather, beer, stew and the other mingled scents of a large group of men who lived together. The strands of a larger fuelled conversation reached his ears before the door closed ‘To be gay, you have to be sexually attracted to a member of the same sex, so you can give your mate a hand job and as long as you don’t fancy him it’s not gay, its just banter!’ Leoff rolled his eyes in disgust, sometimes he really wondered about the men in his company.


Vas who also herd laughed a little as he made his was across the dark room. The fort was overcrowded, and there weren’t nearly enough beds. So when Leoff had been promoted and given his own room and bed sharing it with the dark haired smithy was the least he could do for him after Vas had spent days nursing him. Leoff had if truth be known grown used to Vas’s close presence when they sept.


Leoff didn’t remember much after the match, he remembered some pain, he remembered feeling week, he remembered the sight of the cracking plastered ceiling above him, but above all he remembered Vas. Vas who when he was shivering cold from blood loss lay besides him, keeping him warm with his own body heat, curling around his uninjured side.


By the time they had set out for Cawriad winter had come to midlands, frosts had even began to settle in the Core de imperium. Clear nights ment that sleeping under the stars (though beautiful in their un-shrouded splendour and multitude) was terribly cold. The men, including Vas and Leoff had all huddled together sharing blankets and body heat under the open skies, their mingled breath’s visible in the pale moonlight. Their lips were chapped by the frigid air, their noses were numb, they were tired, but away from the capital city, its stink and corruption they could just be. Their destination didn’t matter at the time, for a while the future was concentrated on the now, and the now right then was to be laying curled up together, warm under two blankets, and above them an incalculable abundance of stars.


Vas sat on the edge of the bed undoing his boots and pulled off his coat. Even with two in the bed it was still to cold to take off socks, breaches or his shirt. Not that any of the men had a nightshirt to sleep in even if they had felt so inclined. Vas slipped under the covers and settled against Leoff with easy familiarity. ‘Night.’ He murmured his usually soft voice slightly horse.


‘You’re voice is bad again. You shouldn’t let them keep you up until all hours singing.’ Leoff chided.


‘I like to sing.’


Leoff smiled. ‘I know. If I can I will try to get you some honey suckle tea to soothe it in the morning. I think that’s what my sister used to use.’


‘Seriously Leoff don’t worry....’


‘It’s no bother. Now shut up gobby, give your voice a rest.’ Leoff murmured. At first they had slept back to back, but in this narrow bed it was far more practical to lay like two spoons snuggled in a draw. Leoff found it was more comfortable to lay behind the slightly smaller man, his arm casually slung over his waist; he didn’t even mind having a face full of his curly dark hair.

Vas to enjoyed sleeping like this, it was reassuring to have the younger man’s mighty heart beating against his back. And mighty his heart was, somehow despite the severity of his last wound Leoff had clung to life, even though sometime it seemed to only be by a thread as fragile as a spider web in those long nights. Nights were always the worst. Vas had feared to sleep, almost as much as he feared the dark. His dreams when did were no better than nightmares. Even now he had nightmares of Leoff’s breathing fading to nothing as he slept;
having him so close assuaged those fears. It was a bitter sweet situation, to have Leoff so close, and yet unable to get any closer, not knowing his own heart how could he possibly hope to know Leoff’s.


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Captain Brand when he was not confusing or terrifying his men with the theory and practice of siege engines, as well as other more exotic machines could be found in the library, that is of he was not hunting on foot with his dog’s and crossbow in the grate western forest. And so it was in the library that Veione found Timor rifling through a big pile of scrolls on one of the large reading desks.

‘Damm, blast and confound it!’ ejaculated the silver haired captain when his search was apparently unfruitful.

His three hounds looked up at their master soulfully, before practically roiling their eyes and laying their massive heads back down again. It was hardly the first time that captain Brand had mislaid something.

‘Timor, need some help?’ Veione asked helpfully.

‘I have lost my glasses!’ he replied exasperated. ‘I had them when I was reading this book so they have to be in here somewhere!’

Veione looking at his friend noticed something and began to chuckle, the chuckle then turned in to full hand hearty laugh until his ribs were actually sore from the effort as Timor continued to franticly ponder out loud where his silver spectacles may be. ‘Oh please, oh, my sides, oh they are splitting!’

‘Veione you are not helping braying like a donkey!’

‘Timor..’

‘Veione not now, I’m trying to think..’ The gray haired captain said impatiently.

‘Timor..’

‘Perhaps I didn’t have them when I read that book, perhaps I’m thinking of yesterday, so may be I put them down in the ...’

‘Timor!’ Veione persisted louder this time.

‘What is it Veione!’ He finally answered angrily turning to the other captain.

With dead calm, though his voice quavered a little Veione replied. ‘Your glasses are on your head.’

‘They can’t be on my head...Oh!’ Timor reached up to his hair where his missing spectacles were perched. Two spots of high colour came in to his cheeks. Veione allowed himself to chuckle again, and Timor joined in this time. The two men then sat down at the reading desk. Veione placing the scrolls he was carrying down close Timor’s messy pile before taking out a large tome to read from one of the shelves. The two men both turned back to their tasks, afternoon sun filtering through the windows high above them.

Veione sighed wearily when the city bell chimed the hour, for the last hour all he had done was stare blindly at the same page of the ancient book in front of him. His mind dwelt elsewhere. What did Vespa want from him? And what did he want from Vespa? He saw no answers in the arcane script. Frustrated he snapped the book shut. Looking up he saw that Timor had been watching him. ‘Time to head to the mess.’ Veione smiled nonchalantly hoping his friend had not noticed his unusual preoccupation. Despite his huge collection of vellum and paper he managed to hand Veione back his two scrolls. ‘Your’s I believe.’

‘Oh, I nearly forgot, thank you.’

Veione made his way to the nearest bar; a small tavern nicknamed ‘the Mess’ due to the large number of soldiers who patronised it. Veione ordered a bottle of ale, drinking it without a tanker, hoping that perhaps for once in his life he might find the answers at the bottom of it. And that was how captain Brand found him drinking with steady determination, his blue eyes far away and slightly blood shot, his face brooding. Timor knew woman problems when he saw them. Years spent in crowded taverns like this one with his men, and Timor could spot a man churning over a female at ten paces.

Opening a bottle of ale, the older man joined Veione at his table. Some things were best talked over with something brewed, and the bitter taste of intoxicating ale was perhaps fitting for talking about unrequited love. They sat in silence for a while; the only sounds in the nearly empty bar were the occasional clank of their bottles against the table. Timor waited for his friend. Veione fiddled with his bottle lid, spinning it, and then slapping it down only to spin it again. Finally he sighed, leaning back to rub his stubbly chin numbly. Timor turned to him. ‘So Veione my old friend what ails you?’

‘What usually ails me?’ Veione gave a half smile.

‘Women.’

‘I have always been such a hopeless fumbler.’

Timor echoed his friends smile, ‘The infamous Veione Faorin, the golden stallion, seducer of virgins, widows and wife’s alike, a hopeless fumbler, say it is not true, otherwise none of us have any hope!’

Veione let out a small laugh. ‘I assure you the stories were....mostly exaggerated.’

The bar maid rolled her eyes, as she placed to more bottles down in front of the men. ‘You don’t fool anyone Cap’n!’


‘Eaves dropping now are we Meg?’ Veione chided, but flashed her one of his most charming grins, despite the bar lady being a plump middle aged woman, in a lace cap, who was extremely content in her marriage.

She puffed up her skirts like a mother hen and cackled. ‘I don’t drop no eves Cap’n. But and business in this pub is my business.’

When they were left to their relative privacy the officers returned to their conversation. Timor then smiled slyly and conspiratorially leaned in to his friend. ‘So who is this woman that is driving you mad? Your behaviour has been strange since we returned in the autumn so by process of deduction if I chance a guess I would say it was Daen....No, its Vespa isn’t it?’

The blond man took in a sharp breath, holding it before he realised it with a groan. ‘Is it really that obvious?’

‘Mmh, not to everyone. Daen noticed that you had been behaving a little strangely; she thought it might involve a female, woman’s intuition. But most people are blind to each others problems.

‘I have always liked her.’ Veione smiled sadly. In the flickering light of the inn he did not see the uncomfortable blush of the other captain’s face. Timor found himself seeking to choose his words carefully, it was this time last year when Vespa, the saucy little minx that she was had seduced her way in to his bed, and the library, and his work room.

‘She is an attractive woman..’ He spluttered. ‘I mean I would if she was interested.’ Timor noticed Veione’s careful silence and he tried to save face. ‘Of course she is not interested in me!’

‘I think you protest to much old friend!’ Veione smiled reassuringly. ‘I already knew, everyone knew about that, they always do.’

‘If I had known how you felt about her I never would have...’

‘Don’t worry about it Timor. Who am I to judge you or her eh?’ The captain replied not quite bitterly. His scorn and loathing aimed only at himself. They talked over quite a few more stout ales. From what Timor could remember the next day of the conversation, Veione had loved Vespa for a very, very long time. Of course since he loved the young woman he had decided that a soiled creature such as himself could not be with someone like Vespa as she once was, pure, proud, and bold. His refusing her had ruined their relationship, whatever that had been. She had never forgiven him. However perhaps with to much vanity on his part he never thought that she would actually love another, but on returning to Bala the waspish woman had been earnest in her perusal of Lord Darcia, and for the first time Veione had known jealousy over a woman.

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a/n; Thank you so much for the reviews ashesxx2xxashes, Alicat1194, Kynrael, and Luinil_Telcontar, they made my day.
Hope you all enjoy the chapter!
I may be a bit slow updating in the next week, New Year and all, but I shall endeavour.