Lord of the West

Chapter 4

AN - 10.06.08, i have given it a bit of a retweek, but it's nothing overly drastic!


Positions and relations

Captain Vespa was on the high road heading back to Bala. In her small leather pouch were missives from Lord Darcia. And there was one in her breast pocket that Lord Darcia had written for Daen’s eyes only. Vespa stuck her spur-less heals in to her horse's side harder than was perhaps necessary and canterd down the grassy verge bordering the road that the colum of men were travaling upon. Vespa as a scout usually had two speed that she travailed at, fast and very fast and now she was irritated by the slow pace that the cavalcade of injured men that she escorted were maintaining.

As she rode the scout captain chewed over her problems. Veione she told herself was not among them, and that she was a fool for letting a man distract her from her ambitions in life. Now that she knew his new opinion of her, that to him she was just another week woman, she could set him aside with no regret.

“Get back.” Were the words that now stuck in her mind like barbed arrows. Despite years fighting by his side, despite years of fighting on her own, becoming a Captain by her own skill he still thought of her as a vulnerable female to be kept safe. She had taken him as a lover only for him to forget that she was more than that.

They had been laying siege to castle Dor, Lord Darcia had decided to undermine the walls and then lead his forces through that small gap that the crumbled wall. It was a cunning plan as the defenders expected the attack to come at the main gate and not from the rear as Lord Darcia and enough men to prevent suspicion were to appearances sake were readying a battering ram and asembaling forces there in battle array. Forces hiding in the undergrowth, her scouts and rangers included had swarmed over that gap like ants coming out of a stirred nest. Timor was the first to be injured; his arm was crushed by piece of falling brick work, having uncharacteristically misjudged the stability of the wall as one of the first to scale the crumbled section.

The fighting once within the castle walls was intense and at close quarters. Kef’s infantry men, mostly brawlers by nature anyway were in there element and fought hand to hand with the castle’s defenders. Captain Tann himself was a fearsome sight, wheedling a grate axe he mowed men down beneath him cleaving off even fully armoured men’s limbs. Vespa and her scouts however used their bows to take out the castle's own archers or anyone intending to poor hot oil over the Duke's forces.

She had been leading her men towards the keep but baring the way standing in the open arch was a giant of a man. A man for shear size could have rivalled Captain Tann. He was dressed in full heavy armour, a large round helmet upon his head, a war hammer in one hand an axe in the other, and so far he had been repelling every effort to brake through in to the keep single handed. “We must get through!” She ordered her men as she was engaged in defending herself with her short sword. Maybe it was not entirely fair to pit so many of her men against just one, but fairness never came in to war. However it was to her horror that the giant dispatched two of her men with one mighty blow of his war hammer.

She screamed like a hawk in fury and swooped down upon the man. The man had laughed when she approached. “Go home little girl.” He had said. The smile that Vespa had given him was as sharp as a serpents bite. She ignored the fear she felt in facing such a gigantic foe, she ignored that when she could she fought with bow and arrow at a distance, or a sword in the back when they hopefully weren’t looking. She was a tigress, she didn’t freeze up in the face of danger, today with her sword in her hand she was death itself.

She discarded the plane blade she had been wielding and drew out Haures, her demon short sword. Haures sill had not fully awakened, Veione had teased her that she had bonded with a lazy sword, but asleep or awakened it was still ferociously sharp. The huge man was still laughing at her as she readied herself, he would not she promised herself be laughing long.

Vespa rushed upon him, hoping to pit her speed and skill against his brute strength. She had drilled against Kef before, though admittedly not for some time. Vespa’s tongue was as acid as always and she taunted the gate keeper. He lashed out at her viciously with his axe, but Vespa with a sway of her hips moved aside. The hammer came now, but again Vespa dodged. Growing more confident Vespa looked for an opening for her blade. The gate keeper struck again, but his result was the same and rather than waiting to dodge the hammer blow Vespa stabbed and stabbed deep.

The man twisted, more agilely that Vespa had expected him capable of and razing his arm he deflected her blade, though not without taking some damage, Vespa’s sword slicing through his armour and scoring a deep gash in his flesh.

Having now tasted blood Haures decided to bester itself its sight making her own keener. Vespa rushed forwards now, deciding that she could beat this man. As she concentrated on finding a weakness in his defence. In retrospect she had been overconfident as when she dodged she was not swift enough, to engrossed in waiting for an opening that she did not notice the fall of his hammer until it struck her until it glanced against her shoulder and her arm suddenly went numb. But at least it was not her sword hand.

An edge of desperation came in to her movements, but she was still determined, this was a hard fight but she could win, she would win however a single mistake could prove fatal. Stealing herself she faced the warrior again getting ready to rush upon him once again with Haures in her head urging her in to battle, telling her to ignore her pain and she wondered how much control over the demon she really had. still he blosterd her flaging courage. She was hard pressed, the huge man's reach and strength were emense, she felt as though her limbs had lead weights atatched to them. Tightening her sweaty grip on the blade readying herself to make a rush attack, she was panting hard and her shoulder was throbbing, but her desire to win was still sharp and her whole world narrowed to just her opponent. It was going to be risky, if she was not swift enough he would undoubtably cleave her in two with his axe....

She felt herself jerked back by a strong hand on her shoulder. Wareing a helmet and with the general noise of the mealy she had not herd the horseman behind her. It was Veione, “Get back Vespa!” he shouted and pulled her up over the bow of his saddle like a sack of potatoes. Vespa had no choice but to hold on. Veione’s spear with the weight of his horse struck the gatekeeper hard, piercing his armour and sticking him like a boar during a hunt. Vespa would have been impresed buy such a mighty blow being delt if she had not been so lived and shocked.

He pulled his horse about and drew it to an abrupt halt. Vespa wriggled trying to let herself down but Veione pulled her up to sit astride in front of him. He drew back his visor and reviled his worried sapphire gaze looking her over swiftly and then meeting her own eyes. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“I’m fine. I didn’t need your help.”

“I thought you might say that.” Veione smiled at her, and lent in for a kiss, tightening his arm about her.

“Dam it I am not a damsel in distress Veione!” Vespa scowled and pushed herself away from him. She landed on her feet and has stalked away. How could he have interrupted her like that? Her enemies fell swiftly after that, she was a furious banshee as she fought, but after a while the rage left her leaving her feeling impotent and week. Vespa pushed herself long in to that night taking a more active interest in the clearing up and regaining of order after a battle than she was accustomed to doing. As she jerked a spear from a corpse she thought over her ills. How could he, how could Veione humiliate her like that, showing her that despite all her efforts, and all her training that she was still unreliable, and incompetent. And worse her men had seen it all.

Vespa had not been this angry over anything since Veione had turned her down in her adolescence. She had thought that Veione respected her as much he cared for her but the minuet that she had sucame to him rather than holding him at a proper distance he began to treat her like something fragile. Today she had not been a comrade with he could fight side by side with, someone he respected; she had been nothing but someone who needed rescuing.

As she moved to the head of the marching coulomb, her arm still in a sling she knew that in this world she needed to feel strong and competent to survive not protected and vulnerable. Doubts cost lives. But facing that man had made her face a truth she had not been willing to admit to herself, this was one of the reasons her rage ran red hot towards Veione, by noticing her weakness she had been forced to see it. His actions had eaten in to her self confidence like water eroding a river bank. Her stubborn will and courage to fight men on equal terms had nearly got her killed. For years she had been telling herself that she was a warrior but perhaps she was deluding herself.

Vespa had faced her death; it was not the first time that she had faced mortal peril. In this life she doubted it would be the last. She hoped that exact time she had faced the odds and survived that it had made her stronger. Vespa liked to be seen as a warrior, she liked to ride out at a head of men, she liked to excitement of battle and the detail of planning a campaign, she liked the strength of her limbs, the skill she had, she liked that she was a honed weapon, every scare she bore was a mark of pride. But that life could it last forever? Men, they could fight until the strength in their limbs failed with old age, but what of women? There would come a time when Vespa could, would bare a child and on that day she would not be able to ride off in to the dead of night to face unknown foes. Had Veione foreseen this, and did she want that? It was not until the white walls of Bala came in to view that the Captain put these thoughts for the time being aside.

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Lady Sienna thrashed out wildly; But Terent only laughed and caught hold of her wrists as she sought to gouge out his eyes with her red lacquered nails. He tore her clothing from her, her gauzy robe put-up little resistance and was ripped easily from her body to lie at her feet like the wings of a crushed butterfly. "No! Enough is enough Terent!” Sienna cried out in annoyance as she struggled futilely with her husband. He ignored her and with more strength than she thought he could probably possess held her down on the bed. She tried in vain to emasculate him with, kicking out but it was all to no avail and he forced himself inside her.

It hurt, it really hurt. She was outraged and terrified never had she been used so roughly. And she knew what was lubricating his stabbing thrusts was not her own natural desire but blood. Changing tack she pleaded with him but above her, Terent ignored her and continued to pound in to her helpless body. “Terent I didn’t agree to this.” She complained. And she hadn’t. Trust Terent to steal what should have been willingly given. “Terent let me go!” She shrieked indignantly.

He laughed. “I think not. I know what those nails of yours are capable of. You would have my eyes out like some demented cat should I lose you now.” Sienna snarled in rage lending weight to his accusation. Some traitorous part of her pointed out the justice of such an act, had she not treated young Leoff in exactly the same way that Terent now treated her? They started it. She answered herself. That is what sex is, its power. If you’re not taking then someone else will take you.

It had not always been like this, Sienna had not waylays been a creature bitter and twisted. Once she had been a girl with dreams of fairy tale’s, grand balls, and hansom suitors. It had been her eldest sister Horatia who Lord Edouard had proposed as a match for his son. Horatia’s affections had been elsewhere engaged. Sienna had thought to sacrifice herself in her sister’s sted. It was the last unselfish thing that she had ever done, though her motives were not entirely un-altruistic for she had seen immediately the convenience of the Edouard’s wealth and social standing. And Terent had of course been very hansom even if he was a notorious rake and gambler. But Sienna thought that with her beauty and charm that she could tame him, that she could rap any man about her elegant finger. She had been wrong.

What a fool I was, she thought to herself. For the first few months of her marriage Terent seemed to have taken permanent residence within Sienna's body. Though it slightly disgusted him to think it, Sienna had not know if she would ever feel normal without Terents's stiff desire within her, reminding her that she was a creature meant to be touched, to be fondled, to be desired. Terent was twisted. Terent was a perversion. And she had loved him. With every invasion of her body, with every demeaning command whispered into her ear, Sienna had felt the promise of that romantic life slipping further and further away. Gentleness and care had been exchanged for intensity and relentless pleasures. Desire and pain became as one. And although she'd resisted in the beginning, Sienna could feel himself beginning to crave the darkness being inflicted upon her. She had given up on lovemaking. And when she had caught Terent with two cheep harlots in their bed she had given up on love.

It could have gone on for hours or for minuets, Sienna did not know. It drew to an end when she had lost the will to struggle and Terent let out a low grunt before rolling off her lax body. Sienna was staring up at the hangings above her bed. Terent either did not notice, nor did not care about the vacant look in her eyes. “Good girl. You see you enjoyed it really.” He said and kissed her forehead, tapping her cheek. She rolled her deep brown eyes up to look over his sweaty face. I should spit in his face she thought, but he would undoubtedly have hit her if she did. Cringing away from the memories of the last few days she closed her eyes. Better to hate than to be afraid. And she hated Terent. But more then all of those she hated that deep in her perverse little heart some part of her told her that she should have enjoyed this.

“I hate you!” She hissed, scrambling off the bed and gathering her silken robes to her.

"Do not act the victim, Seiena." Terent said. "Is that the theme of your life -- ever the victim of circumstance, It’s never your fault is it?" Terent . "Take responsibility for what you do, Sienna. You asked me for this. You asked to be mine. You asked to be a part of this. "

She began to cry, collapsing down against a silk panelled wall. Her face in her hands she sobbed. Terent watched her for a while, smirking at her misery. But after a while he ordered her to be quiet and sought the covers and sleep. When his breathing had evened out Sienna once more creped close to the bed. She stood over her husband. In sleep his face was relaxed, his mouth hanging open and the lack of strength about his cheek and jaw could be seen more clearly. He looked gormless Sienna mused. She reached out, her hands turning in to claws. I could choke the life out of him right now she thought as her heart hammered in her chest. The bruises on her body ached, bruises he had inflicted upon her when she had told him that she had not wanted to be part of his plot anymore when her nerve had failed her. He had hit her, and told her that she had deliberately turned away from the Emperor and thrown in her lot with him. Sienna had never been hit before, and it was the shock of it more than the actual pain that even now so unmanned her. When Terent stirred slightly in his sleep and she jumped away. Sienna fled from the room, her bare feet slapping the marvel tiles, her bejewelled ankle bracelets jingling like small bells.


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Lord Edouard was furious. He had been astonished when Sargon had announced that he was going personally to the West. That was not what Lord Edouard wanted in the least. When he had brought Lord Sindri before the Emperor the Emperor had only agreed to send a small force to take the south and place it under a regency until the whole situation could be sorted out, as was suggested by lord Edouard. However the next morning in front of the assembled council he had changed his mind entirely and was going to go himself to deal with the Duke.

Lord Edouard as he had the past week could be found in the council chambers until the small hours of the morning in deep discussion with various of the other councillors and advisors trying to untangle this most dreadful of coils while concealing his part in it. He was looking to leave when Lord Salford approached him. “Might I beg a word?”

The old man sighed wearily, but he answered politely. “You may.”

“Somewhere private, It regards Terent?”

Lord Edouard’s eyes narrowed suddenly much to the discomfort of Lord Salford, “I see,” He said softly, “Follow me.”

They found a deserted corridor and Salford asked, “What did you know of your son’s recent movements?” Edouard opened his mouth to speak, annoyed at such a frivolous question when the court was in tumult. He closed it however, Salford was not a fool, nor was he a man who asked foolish questions. What had Terent been up to the last few weeks? Lord Edouard could not answer that question; he had been too concerned with his own business to bother much with as to what his son’s activities were. “Quite so.” Salford nodded. Edouard suspected that perhaps Terent had once again committed some unspeakable scandal once again. He watched Salford carefully wondering what he wanted. Salford did not leave him in anticipation for long. “Have you perhaps noticed that the emperor has made your son a favourite?”

“Salford,” Lord Edouard said softly. Lord Salford looked up. “Are you very discrete?”

The younger noble looked him full in the eye, “Of course.”

“And what do you want for this?”

“Nothing.” Salford answered, “I merely have asked whether you have seen your son recently.” He paused and studied his bejewelled shoe buckle with raised quisling glasses. “I have noticed that things involving the Emperor, scandals for instance have a tendency to implicate other people, friends and acquaintances even.”

Lord Edouard took his meaning with a small smile; this one would go far in politics. “I need not have asked.”

Lord Edouard decided that the morning was quiet soon enough to have words with his son. Now that he knew who was putting stupid and dangerous ideas in the Emperor’s youthful head he could now undo to damage. Edouard was a man who was used to having his house in order, his son included.

He had not expected to enjoy his interview with his son but it turned out to be more unpleasant than he was prepared for. He was writing at his desk when Terent was ushered in to the room announced by a footman. Lord Edouard was reading through a missive as Terent paused on the threshold of the study eyeing his father. “You may sit Terent.”

“No thank you. I cannot stay long I have an appointment to attend at the tenth bell.” His son said impatiently as he fiddled with his riding crop. “What did you want father?”

“You’re going riding? Who with?” Lord Edouard asked as he looked over his son’s puce jacket, and top boots.

“Not that is any of your business fathers, but I am escorting his imperial majesty.”

“Yes I have heard that he had been favouring you as of late.” Lord Edouard said in carefully measured tones.

“Father you don’t sound very pleased. I thought that you would be happy that I have finally gained the favour of Sargon.”

“Don’t be so flippant Terent, it is blasphemous.” Lord Edouard warned. “Not even the emperor’s mother can call the Emperor by his given name.”

Terent laughed, “It is not like he will overhear father!”

“Some one might. I will not have scandal brought down upon us!”

“What do you mean father. I assume that you have not called me in here to tell me off about not calling the emperor by his full title?”

“Your right.” He said. “I have received some disturbing intelligence from various sources regarding your influence over the emperor.”

“Oh, I thought you would be glad that I was close to the emperor, after all that was what you have spent your life doing father.”

“I advise the emperor, I serve him. And you should to, what worm got in your head to encourage him to ride at the head of the army to the west. No emperor has been in battle for centuries, and do you know why?”

“He might get killed.” Terent answered. “And with no hair yet I imagine that might cause a problem.” There was something in his son’s voice that made his guts turn to ice. A suspension that had been lurking at the back of his mind now reared its ugly head, at first he did not believe what he was hearing. There was no way that his son could have come up with such a devious plot.

“That was your intention wasn’t it?”

“Don’t speak so loudly father someone might hear.” Terent laughed.

“Be silent!” Lord Edouard hissed. “This is treachery!”

Terent smiled, “Yes, yes it is. Father you don’t seem to understand, this plan is fool proof. The Emperor comes with me to the West and then he dies in a battle, dear, dear, how tragic.” He patted his eyes for mock tears. “Now then Father you will of course have to step in as regent again, you are after all so very well respected. With no heir it might be time to start a new dynasty.”

“Become the Emperor!” Lord Edouard spluttered. As a man whose entire life had been spent in the service of the Empire had trouble in comprehending that anyone could think to kill the Emperor.

“Father you always have set your sights rather to low, but I have rather more ambition.”

“To low, what you propose is madness!”

“Madness?!” Terent sighed, “I thought it a very clever plan. Think on it father.”

Lord Edouard looked thoroughly offended. “I will not think about this. And If you know what is good for you Terent neither will you. You will forget this nonsense immediately!”

Terent’s mouth hardened in to a thin line, but then a cruel smile twisted his face. “You see father I had though you might say that. Your captains are currently in my pay they realised that by backing me they will be suitably rewarded. Father you know your men were really very easy to bribe, but I suppose that is what comes with hiring mercenaries. You see there is nothing that you can do to stop me.”

“Terent if you think I will not turn you in….”

“Fine do so. Do you think that the council will believe that you have nothing to do with this father?” Terent moved closer, “Remind me what the punishment for treachery is? Oh yes torture and then execution. I’m sure that you will enjoy that. Anyway you have detained me from quite long enough.”

With that Terent left leaving the old man reeling. It was some minutes before he could gain enough composure to think the situation through rationally. He decided that he needed more information and summoned his daughter in law. It had been some time since he had spent much time back at his home so he had not seen Sienna for some days. Today she was a wearing an uncharacteristically sober gown, however when she moved he could see the lived bruises against her pale skin that she could not quite cover up. It was probably another thing he could lay at his son’s door.

Quietly and with absolute calm he asked the young woman in strictest confidence whether she had noticed a change in Terent’s behaviour and whether she knew what he was currently involved in. Sienna had laughed bitterly at this, and then in a flurry of words he had not expected she had told everything that she had known. Terent had always needed to brag to someone and apparently when Sienna had began to show her nervousness about his plot that was when the beatings had began to make sure that she remained quiet.

“Has he really bribed my men?” Lord Edoard asked.

“Some of them, not all.” Sienna answered. “He has shown me letters, I don’t know which ones though and he would not tell me who they were.”

“Then he is cleverer then I had ever imagined possible. Oh!” The old man gave a little distraught cry before he staggered. His daughter in law rushed up to him. “How can I have been so blind!”

How could he, who prided himself on his ability to read people have misjudged his own son so disastrously. Previously the lack of drive in his only son had irritated Gaius immensely. He had thought that his son was as weak and pointless as the lifestyle he surrounded himself with. Terent was useless Gaius would have bet money that if he asked his son to explain her motives or ambitions in life his son would have absolutely nothing to say. Apparently he had been wrong. Just as he had been wrong about his daughter in law thinking that she was nothing more than a pretty picture you couldn't help admiring, until you realized that it symbolized nothing. By coming here to him after his own son had savaged her proved there was some steal in her somewhere.

“He needs to be stopped.” Sienna pointed out calmly.

“But how? If we turn him in we will be considered just as guilty.” Lord Edoaurd sighed, “I know the system, traitors family’s always suffer along side them.”

“I think you know how.” The young woman answered him, her dark eyes as hard as stone.


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Their had been no word from Lord Darcia for over two weeks, although the High Priestess who had known Darcia since birth made light of it saying that Lord Darcia never wrote anything unless he was forced to Daen felt the silence was ominous, and knew not why. Daen wondered through the garden and sat in the grassy cloister. With her face turned to the sun leaning back on her arms anyone passing would think she was simply enjoying the spring sunshine. But little Cira who was engaged in making a daisy chain for the Lady heard the wistful sigh the young woman let out every so often and the distant look in her eyes. It was Saile now, the month of the willow and all about them flowers had bloomed, sun shone down, and birds sung yet Daen was still filled with an un-assuagable emptiness and doubt.

Had she said too much? Too little? Did she guard her heart too closely? Had he forgotten about her? Was all this uncertainty the price of love? Was it even love that she felt? Did he really love her or did he just want her? When the reply did come it was born by Captain Vespa, who had been sent back to Bala to begin to look to the defences on the border.




To my guarded little one,


When I return I will find you a ring more befitting your slender fingers.

I would that you reside in the palace until I return. Without hubris or partiality the plaice gardens are by far superior to those of the temple at this time of year. I have sent a letter to my senshal to collect your things and to arrange an escort. Our friend Timor was injured in the taking of Castle Dor, the wound is not I think a life threatening one but he would probably benefit from your healers knowledge.


Andaras



Though the letter assuaged a few fears it only served to stir up new anxieties. She had been truly annoyed with Darcia at his calm assumption that he would do exactly as he wanted of her. He would have known that his mastery would chafe her, and she could practically feel him laughing at her annoyance as she read through the missive. It was as the Priestess had said about Lord Darcia, he often did not so much as force you to do something as much as make it impossible for you to do anything but his will. Even sending Timor back to the plaice was part of his way to make sure that she did as he wanted.

Never the less Daen returned back to the palace as her lord bid her, for the day that she had the letter the plaice steward arrived at the temple door with Thuharu saddled and awaiting her with an honour guard of men. She fumed over this as there was no way she could refuse without losing face in front of the men who had greeted her so warmly. However she ventured comment to Vespa who rode out with them that the guard could have been better put to use elsewhere. Vespa nodded, she to was out of temper with the male species and their tyrannical assumptions of control though she did not divulge as to why. On the ride back both women were in total accord that all men were bastards and they would be better off without them.

Darcia’s missive had woken a mired of feelings in her Daen’s. She no longer questioned that she loved him, or that he loved her. But what of his intentions for their future together? She had not thought of her future for a long time, running for ones life often puts an end to dreams that reach any further than surviving the next day let alone considering having a relationship. Daen wondered at herself, a few years ago she would never have thought that she would have slept with a man out of wedlock, and now here she was blanching at a proposal, that is if it was what Darcia meant by his talks of rings.

Daen wondered if she would be happy to remain his mistress? The problem would lie in that as a grate lord Darcia would need to marry at some point to beget himself an hair. And should Daen stay as only a mistress then one day Darcia would eventually have another woman in his life. Just the thought of this spectre in the future was enough to turn Daen inside out with fear, a fear that made her almost physically sick.

But again there was a problem. The bride that by all rights Darcia should have was a gentle born noble woman with political connections or at least fortune. He could have even married a woman from the south of his lands to prevent rebellion. Daen had no family of any consequence that did not wasn’t her dead. She had no fortune, and nothing really more to recommend her that a pretty face. How could she marry him knowing that? And what of Darcia himself, he was pretty well insufferably overbearing now, as a husband he would probably be worse. More bossy, more protective and as his wife he would have the right to do it. She had to smiled fondly over that.

Once back in the palace Daen found herself heartily glad to be back there for the orderly life in the temple had been slowly suffocating her. Still she could not bring herself to enter his rooms; instead she chose to sleep in the Duchesses’ apartments directly opposite from the Duke’s chambers. It was an odd kind of torture to know that only one door away from (though she was loathe to admit it even to herself) her true home. She refused even to open the door fearing the strength of her own emotions should she do so.

Rumours of Darcia’s possible nuptials seemed to have spread through out the town let alone the palace like wild fire. How people found it out when Daen had not told a soul confouned the young woman. She suddenly found her position in the plaice much more gratly changed than she had expected it to be and she was suprised by it. Having been brought up in a court of suspision and intreege was she well versed with court polatics but having been somewhat of a dubious quanity throughout her life she instinctivly ignored disapproving glances and gossip. It was probably because of this that she had for the most part ignored those who wipserd about her unseemly relationship with Lord Darcia.

The result of all this was on reterining to the palice she was sudenly confronted by people who usualy ignored her presence sudenly bowing and scraping to her, or asking her for her guidence. For instance Daen had been plesently suprised when on her first night back at the palice the house keeper asked her what her preferd menu was. Daen had thought that this was just a nice gesture of welcome on the house keeper's behalf, when it happend the next day, and then the next daen began to suspect a change. The penny finaly droped when the gardeners requested an audience with her to discuss what she wanted doing to it. "We were wondering wether your Ladyship agrees with puting a budlia along this walk?"

Daen had put aside the book that she had been pursuing at this. Her eyeborows raised in faint suprise. "Surely you should be asking Lord Darcia about this. Or the head gardener?"

"I' am the head gardener." The man replyed.

"Oh I' am sorry i did not know." Daen sighed and then looked over his plans. "I do like budlias." She mused. "They atract buterflys don't they?"

Daen had ininvertedly touched on one of the head gardeners favoarte subjects and he spent the next half hour discussing the various types of buterfly that lived in the mountinous regions of Marchadia. Later he renderd himself odious to his fellows over supper informing them that he knew a real Lady when he saw one, and that it did not depend on fortune whatever ill-informed persons might have liked to have thought. Many people had disputed this fact for a while, Sybilla or not it was unseemly to be sharing the bed of a man you were not married to. The true native Marchadian’s were less concerned about this, for the earthy mountain peoples it was enough that the frosty Duke had taken her to his bed, but those who aspired towards Imperil courty life were more scandalised by their Duke’s domestic arrangements. However even those with reserves over Lord Darcia's choice in partner took note of the rumours of approaching nuptials started to call her the Lady, though it was deemed far to soon to begin calling her the Duchess.

Daen unaware of the general discussion about her was in Timor’s workshop re-bandaging his shoulder as he told her of the campaign so far. From the young Alwen’s first battle, the sieges of various towns, and how Lord Darcia was himself. “How’s Vespa today have you seen her?”

“She is impatient, she wants to set off back to the army as soon as possible.” Daen answered. “At least her shoulder is only bruised and not broken.”

“Is she still in a bad mood?”

Daen let out a snort of amusement, “She’s a bit short of temper, but for once not with me.”

“Ah, no she is angry with Veione.”

“Oh?” Daen said, “What has Veione done now?”

“I have not asked.” Timor grinned and shrugged his shoulders, instantly regretting that movement. “And Veione is at a loss as to what he has done.”

“Stay still.” Daen chided, “Men honestly.”

“Well speaking of men and women troubles Lord Darcia had been a little distracted of late, restless but our Lord seemed in particularly good spirits when I left him.” He smiled knowingly, “I was wondering just what made him as pleased as a cat has got the cream?”

Daen’s lips quivered as she repressed a smile and her cheeks flushed coyly. “I expect that he must be glad that he is wining.”

“Yes, but what has he won exactly?”

Daen she was interrupted from replying by the entrance of the head lady in waiting Lady Phenn. Lady Phenn was a distent relation of Lord Darcia, a prim noble woman in a neet hoop skirt, whom Daen thought rather looked like a ship at full sail as she swept in to the room. The ladys in waiting were position's that had long been ignored with the absence of a duchess for many years, but with the prospect of having a new duchess to serve the older woman had found that her roal within the court had the prospect of a revival if only she could integrate herself with the young woman Lord Darcia had chosen to be his mate.

Lady Penn had been reluctant to do so at first having herd rumours that the Nhemian woman had been sharing her lords bed, and as a noble lady she did not want anything to do with the Duke’s mistress. However with marriage looming this changed the situation some what. Lady Phenn although a relation to lord Darcia, it was only a faint conection, they were third or fourth cousans at best, and although she was a noble by birth, her famaly had been poor. Lord Darcia's mother had employed her as a lady in waiting, and since then Lord Darcia had alowed her to live within his walls and given her an alowance out of respect of his mother's wishes. Lady Phenn was very much in awe of his Grace, part from fear that his kindness might be revoked at a whim, and admaration, for he was a very fine man, and he had been so very kind to her. It struck Lady Phenn that she could repay Lord Darcia and secure her precarious position by preparing the young woman for life as mistress of Bala. The girl had promice, she was beutiful and natrauly graceful, she just needed some polishing.

As a matter of pride the noble woman had sought out Daen (who was well known for her strange ways and sometimes scandalous behaviour) to instruct her in the proper way for a noble woman to behave. "I'm sure that Lord Darcia would be pleased should you learn more of the ways of his court." Lady Phenn had enthused. The young woman had replyed that she was sure that Lord Darcia would undoubtably be pleased. her reply had been polite and all that it should have been, but lady Phenn had the distinct impresion that Daen had been laughing and so far her well meaning efforts to teach the young woman had been somewhat unsatisfactory. For although the young woman would listen to her politely to her lectures, there was always a disarming twinkle lurking in her eyes, some hint of lurking amusement.

Lady Penn approached with the look of one who’s sense of propriety had been outraged. She addressed herself to Daen curtsying low and then saying in her stateliest manner. “I beg your pardon my Lady but I feel that it is my duty to tell you that the cook and the house keeper have had a falling out and that they are fighting in the courtyard, the cook has threatened to leave!”

Timor burst out laughing.

“This is no laughing matter Captain Brand!” Lady Penn sheathed.

“Quiet so.” Daen answered managing somehow not to smile. “And what has caused this? Oh tell me as we walk.”

“Daen you don’t mean to embroil yourself in this cat fight do you?” Timor asked.

“Well who else is going to stop it? I would like to try to smooth things over.”

They swept out of the workshop and set across towards the palace. Lady Penn was forced to scurry to keep up with the young woman, offending her dignity further, but she managed to scold the young lady for being alone with a man despite being betrothed, such behaviour was not seemly she solemnly informed Daen. Daen to her credit managed to keep a straight face.

Later Timor managed to catch up with the young woman at dinner. He waved his knife at the table as she entered. “I see you have managed to stop the cook from leaving I assume that you were successful in reconciling the warring cats?”

“No only time will do that.” Daen said buoyantly as she flopped down in to a chair. “The best I have achieved is to flatter each in to thinking that in these troubled times that if either failed us now that the palace would fall to pieces.”

“I always though that they were bosom companions.”

“Oh they were, but they are shockingly jealous of their positions.” Daen sighed, “It seems that they are all in a pelter over Darcia asking me to marry me. I never thought that my marrying Darcia would cause power shifts in the house staff it is all very strange. They are all vying for my attention, and arguing, it’s very uncomfortable.”

“It’s been a long time since this house has had a mistress.” Timor smiled, “perhaps a shake up will do them all some good.”

“Perhaps, I cant help but think that they would not behave like this in front of Lord Darcia.”

“No i dare say they wouldn’t.”

Daen lay her chin on her hand, “I think it is going to be very hard here until he comes back.”




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Leoff stood upon a temple crossing tower looking out over the flat Lowland countryside griping the stone wall firmly in his hands. The wind blew his golden brown hair and his cloak all about his tall form. Behind him sprawling out on the roof top floor out of the wind and enjoying the sun was his dark haired and merry eyed companion. Vas’s jet eyes were thoughtful now and admiring as they rested upon Leoff, pondering him.

Leoff did not move for a while or speak. He was frowning, and Vas knew that the young man would not be looking at the fair land below him but at the encampment of Imperial troops one thousand strong and not half a mile from the town. Vas watched him respectfully, glancing from Leoff’s stern brow, a determined jaw outlined clearly in the bronzed lean cheek. Leoff’s feet were set well apart and firmly planted. It was Vas thought that the pose stood for all the strength and purpose that Leoff possessed. He rolled over on to his side and supporting his head on his slim hands continued to watch his friend.

Vas was a well made man, but his shoulders were noting in comparison with Leoff’s. With a sigh he turned his eye’s resolutely back to the young man’s rugged face. Vas had not been told why they had tramped out of the town of Yepres to make there way up the small knoll on which the temple lay and then ascended it’s steps and put on to the crossing tower’s flat roof. Vas knew better than to ask, he felt privileged to have been able to follow, along with a bit depressed at how whipped he had become. Leoff had been silent all the way and now he stood just as still a frown on his brow and a grim ness about his mouth deep in thought.

“When are we going to move from Yepre’s? Are we to remain here for long?” Vas asked finally growing restive, yearning for the bustle that the Imperial city provided. “I hope not.”

“When I know I will tell you.” Leoff said curtly. Vas was in no way abashed and he sat up hugging his knees.

“It is soon then I think.” He said shrewdly and looked speculatively up at Leoff. “You have something in your mind, I can tell.”

“We need more information before we act.”

“Well that is why we are here is it not?”

“Come on we have work to do.” But other than that Leoff vouchsafed no answer but a jerk of his head to indicate that he was leaving. It was not until they reached the privacy of the inn that they were staying in that he informed Vas of his plan. They had come to Yepres to confirm what they had heard back in the last town. However any real information had proved to be hard to come by, even with the army on it’s door step the towns people knew little more than what they had already discovered on the road, and that was hearsay and conjecture.

“We will have to get in to the camp to find out anything of any value.” Leoff said decidedly.

“But they aren’t letting anyone in. Well apart from washer women and whores.” Blake who had joined them pointed out. “And I can’t pay them enough to get them to ask for us either.” He added glumly.

Vas sniggered, and Leoff grimaced in distaste before saying. “We will have to go in disguise.”

“What as whores? Leoff no offence but you would make a singularly homely girl!”

“As soldiers you idiot Blake.” Leoff said exasperated. “But we will need to get some armour from somewhere and Imperil surcoats. The only thing is armour is not exactly cheep, and the imperial surcoats are not just something’s that grow on trees either.”

Vas rubbed his chin meditivly. “I can take care of the armour. It might mean been a bit light fingered to get some, but I could modify it to look like imperil armour.”

“The surcoats I can get.” Blake grinned and grabbed his crotch. “I know which washer women might have some.”


Later that evening Leoff found himself accompanied by Vas doing a spot thievery. Vas had come up with a fairly simple, if a slightly risky plan. Leoff would get himself arrested and thrown in the city jail. Which Vas had discovered was in the watch tower, which was coincidently where the watch armoury was. Leoff was to then tie a piece of white fabric on the windows of his cell on the second story and then Vas would lower Loke down to him. Hopefully this attempt at a fugitive nocturnal venture would be more successful than when they had attempted to steal back Leoff’s sister from Lord Darcia’s city tower. Leoff had bulked at Vas’s plan but unable to come up with anything better he had reluctantly agreed to it. He was more than a little concerned about leaving Loke alone, but after wrapping the blade in sacking, and extracting a solemn promise from Vas not to touch the demon Leoff had decided that it was going to have to do. It was almost funny how Leoff was happy to admit that he was a murderer but his conscious was stung by the thought of theft.

Unlike the Imperial city Yepres slept. Leoff had found that there was a certain kind of man who liked to pick on big men to prove something and it did not take long for Leoff to find such a man. A few broken tables later and the city watch had been called in and Leoff pretending very drunk was escorted to the watch tower. The three hours he had now been waiting seemed an eternity. Dark thoughts assailed him, what if Loke managed to gain control of Vas? What if Vas had always meant to steal the sword from him? There was a sound like scraping from above him, looking out of the bared window as much as he could he saw something descending towards him. There was a muffled clink as Loke bumped up against the iron bars.

Reaching up Leoff managed to catch hold of his blade just as Vas above him let the rope go slack. For one terrible moment Leoff thought that he had dropped the blade, and that it would fall to the cobbles below to wake the guards. Fortunately Leoff secured his hold and then drew Loke safely within the cell.

Vas had somehow remembered his sister’s rune spell, it seemed that his bardic memory did come in handy occasionally. Soon Leoff was moving through the shadowed halls, his eyes and ears scanning for anyone who might be moving. Worryingly he felt a tremor of anticipant excitement radiating from his demon sword. “If you think your having an outing tonight Loke you have another thing coming.” Leoff whispered.

There were no torches lit in the tower now. Ypres was a sleepy market town, prosperous and soft, the watch men were all long abed. The watch men were used to dealing with tavern brawls, pick pockets and domestic disputes, sensible common folk they would have laughed at the news that a Nhamian warrior was now creeping through their tower with a demon sword in his hand. Demon swords ranked up there with dragons as far as these people were concerned. Though Leoff smiled they would be scratching their heads over his disappearance the next day.

Leoff managed to find the armoury and loaded up on all the pieces that they required. Vas was waiting for him outside when he emerged from the tower door at street level. They retuned to the inn they were staying at having hidden the armour in sacks. The next day Vas worked on it changing it in to a fair semblance of Imperial armour, hopefully close enough to fool them for a few hours at least. Blake did not return with the surcoats until the next morning looking thoroughly pleased with himself, though the lines about his eyes were testament to him not having got much sleep that night either. He fained off working the metal sighting a headache, and by the smell of ale leaking from his pours Leoff could well imagine why.

“We will have to cut our hair.” Vas said as he looked over his handy work. “All Imperial soldiers have shown off hair. It would be a dead give away if we didn’t.”

Leoff nodded and went downstairs to ask for a pair of shears. Vas took them from him and looked at Blake who was then passed out across the bed, his mouth hanging wide open. Grinning widely Vas took the shears to his dormant cousins main. “He is going to be furious about this; he was always really vain about his hair.” Vas giggled.

Leoff found it hard to keep a straight face and the cracked in to a wide boyish grin. Vas then set to work on Leoff’s locks, though he lamented it was a pity. Vas was the last to have his hair cut, Leoff doing the honours, though Vas insisted on tidying it up at the front himself, as the young man had in Vas’s opinion no sense of style.

When dusk fell they walked out of town and dressed in the make shift costume. Though initially nervous as to weather it would work they were not stopped by anyone and soon found a place to sit by a camp fire. The camp was apparently made up of various different regiments, and so new faces did not cause any unwanted questions. In the dark it was hard to tell who was who in any case. Many of the soldiers were happy to spin a yarn, to ready to in Loeff’s opinion who looking around the soldiers noticed the ill discipline and other signs of novice behaviour that were like eyesores to him. The news that they found out was not heartening in the least, for the thing on everyone’s lips was that the Emperor himself was going to lead his armies to the West. Though he would be coming with the main force, this the vanguard was heading for the west in the morning and would be there in only two weeks.

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A/N:

Thanks for the review luv_bug, I aim to please.

Kitsunekilala, lovely to have a new reader, and thank you for the review! No need to go insane just yet, and chapter 5 should be up very soon as well.