Lencel August, son of the great Legate and Senator, Calliston August, watched the woman he loved out of the corner of his eye. He was trying his very best to control his impulsive need to look at her, but was finding the task increasingly difficult the longer he sat atop his steed. His body did little to help him in that regard. Already his palms were covered in sweat, so much so in fact that he decided to wipe them clean on the flank of his stoic beast, silently apologising to the indifferent creature. His forehead was also beginning to bead with moisture. He found himself praying to the Great Spirit, pleading with the deity to show him favour and have the woman of his dreams believe that the perspiration was a result of the winter sun, not because of his nearly unbearable nerves.

For he was nervous. Perhaps even that word didn't do his current state of mind justice. It was too simple, too basic to explain the rampant anxiety flooding through his body. For the past eight years he had worked himself to the bone in preparation of this very moment. It was a journey laden with hardships, heartbreak, toil and blood. One which he had undertaken because of her. Nearly a decade of his life could be traced back to a sun soaked courtyard and a few softly spoken words.

To the First Knight of Venos, Lady Vera of Myrin.

Lencel had awoken that morning with heavy lids and a light heart, all but bouncing from his bed. The satin sheets, usually so smooth against his skin, felt oddly confining and irritating. Trying to sleep the night before had almost become an exercise in futility. He had succumbed to slumber long after midnight, when his body could take no more of his excitement and exhaustion took hold, forcing his mind into the dark depths of a troubled abyss.

He rose with the dawn, as was his way, and all but bounded down to one of the many sparring arenas on his family's estate. His father was wealthy man, one who had worked himself ragged for the sake of his family Whether it was in the military, as a merchant or in service to the Republic as Senator, Calliston August demanded the very highest of standards from himself. This ideal was reflected in the picturesque home he had bought for his family.

Located just outside of the city proper in the southern reaches, the August household was a sprawling expanse of many smaller dwellings built around a larger building where their family stayed. As Senator, Calliston was allowed a contingent of Legionaries who stayed on the grounds along with the servants who tended to the needs of Lencel and the other members of his clan. In truth, the place was much larger than they needed, with half of the outer buildings not even being in use unless guests arrived to fill them, but Reanin August had fallen in love with the sights and smells of the fruit fields that surrounded the property. It filled the air with a subtle tang of sweetness that made every breath a delight to the senses. His father had even leaned into his mother's love of grapes especially, purchasing a small vineyard on the shores of the River Lith only a small distance from their home to make their very own wine.

The young scion of the August family smiled as he looked through the open windows and out onto the fields that had captured his mother's heart. Today was going to be a good day, he thought to himself, banishing the doubts within his mind at least for the moment. He had training to focus on.

Lencel was thankful to find Zeli, one of his father's guard, already up and training. He'd known the young woman for years, having studied with her at Master Frankel's combat academy. He wanted to purge the energy from his body, to prepare himself mentally and physically for what was to come. There was no one better for the job than Zeli. The young woman had only recently been accepted into the ranks of his father's guard, at Lencel's insistence. As advanced as the Republic was in terms of its system of governance, it still had a way to go before true equality between the sexes existed. Had Lencel not interceded, chances were that Zeli would have been shipped off to some desolate post to the west, as far away from combat as humanly possible. It was a waste of talent as far as he was concerned. She was already better than half the warriors that currently served in the Senatorial guard detail his father was entitled to.

If there was one thing that Lencel knew well, it was that gender meant little in the pursuit of power. The woman who held his heart in her hands was a living testament to that fact.

After a few brief and intense bouts, Lencel bid a fond farewell to his old friend and made his way to the breakfast room, where his mother and father sat waiting for him. His sisters were conspicuously absent, but then they always were these days. Both were caught up in their own lives in the city, the twins older than Lencel by three years. They may be the most eligible duo in all of Yelmora, with suitors arriving day and night hoping to beg his father for their favour. Calliston was never foolish enough to give it, of course. The twins had minds all their own and were incredibly particular in who they allowed to court them. For that, Lencel was glad. Half the men that arrived wore more powder on their cheeks than any woman he'd ever met, a recent fashion trend that taken the young bachelors of the capitol by storm.

“Feeling alright, son?” His father had asked after a few moments of comfortable silence. It took Lencel a moment to focus on the words, his attentions fixed on the food in front of him, “We'll be leaving soon. I have no idea when the Princess will arrive, only that it will be today. We can stop by the Linon tea shop near the checkpoint while we wait.”

Lencel grimaced at that. He despised tea with a rare passion, the complete opposite of his father's near obsession with the subject, both drinking and discussing it. More than once they had visited various teahouses throughout the city, the expeditions usually ending with Calliston having an argument with someone about certain types of leaves. It was to be expected, Lencel supposed, considering his father had once been a merchant who traded in such luxuries.

“I'm fine, father. Just nervous.” Lencel replied softly, his hand shaking slightly as he forced himself to stuff some bread in his mouth. It wouldn't do to faint at an inopportune moment, especially in front of Lady Vera. He could just see it now, even the thought of it making him feel queasy, “It's been... well, it's been a long time.”

“She will be glad to see you, son,” His mother, Reanin August, said fondly, her sparkling blue eyes finding his, “You have nothing to worry about.”

His mother and father were well aware of his infatuation with the First Knight of Venos, though it had taken them years to accept it, let alone endorse the match. It was only after he had graduated from Master Frankel's school that they had finally decided to take his declaration seriously. He couldn't blame them for having doubts. The first time they'd learned of his feelings he had been barely ten years old. What did one so young know of matters of the heart? Lencel himself had doubted for a time and he'd even courted a few of the young ladies from the city but they couldn't hold a candle to the woman who haunted his dreams at night. No amount of pretty girls tittering in his ear could remove her from his thoughts.

She was different.

The first time they had met was eight years before, when she and her sister arrived to help his father with a matter within Yelmora. Lencel didn't know much about it, only that a rebellious element had decided to rear its ugly head in the city, one that wished to see the Republic return to times long past, when they were ruled by a single monarch instead of sixty Senators. The young boy treated the woman from Venos as he had every other guest they hosted over the years: With cold indifference.

That was until he saw her fight for the first time.

It was a simple sparring match that had taken place in the very same arena Lencel trained in every morning. The First Knight of Venos against his father in a friendly contest of skill. Lencel believed that Calliston would win without a doubt. As a Knight, the head of the August household had few equals in the Republic, his rank placing him only one level below being a recognised Master of the Hall. He was lauded by Knights from across the land as one of the finest warriors to ever wield a spear and the accolades he had won while serving in the Legions were almost too numerous to count.

Yet he lost.

The Green General, a man who had fought off countless enemies in the name of the Republic, lost a battle against a woman nearly half his age. Lencel remembered everything about that moment; the dust in the air, the feel of his mother's hand clamped around his own, the speed at which Vera and his father moved. It was beyond breathtaking. For the first ten years of his life, Lencel had been without purpose. Nothing grabbed his attention, nothing made him want to improve or grow. That was until he saw her fight, felt the cold of her Element upon his skin.

The session was over as quickly as it had begun. Vera and Calliston came to a dead stop. The First Knight's legendary glaive, Illithin, resting beneath his chin. Lencel could clearly recall the disbelief on his father's face, an expression which was reflected on his own. The youngest scion of August watched Calliston's Weapon slip from trembling and exhausted fingers. His father hadn't been holding back. She was just better.

That night, at dinner, Lencel asked her to train him. After receiving permission from a surprised Calliston, Vera agreed and so began the two best months Lencel had ever experienced.

The boy endured much during their brief time together, but the lessons he learned from Vera were ones he knew he would carry to his grave. He had been obsessed with learning how to fight like her at first, to master the glaive as she did, but it quickly became apparent that it was not his weapon. His body, though still not grown, was clearly not suited to it and so a sword was chosen instead, the king of all weapons, as Vera put it. She placed it in his hands and he felt a rightness, a belonging that he had never felt before. In that one moment she had shaped him more than she could ever know, placing him on the path of valour and honour. The path of a true Knight.

His feelings quickly changed during their time together. He felt a pounding in his chest at her approach, a flutter in his stomach when she spoke and when she entered a room he was not able to take his eyes off of her.

He'd asked his sister what the feelings meant. Sara had laughed at her little brother, pulling him into a hug and telling him all about falling in love.

“Do you think about her even when she's not around? Do you want to spend every waking moment with her?”

“I do!” Lencel replied enthusiastically, as Sara rocked him gently.

“Then you are in love, little brother. Hold on to it, Lencel. Mother says there is nothing more precious in the world than love.”

And so he did.

Vera left soon after, her business in Yelmora concluded and Lencel heartbroken at her leaving. She had hugged him then, chuckling over his hair to Annabelle, who watched on with her cold eyes. That very night, Lencel declared that he was in love with Lady Vera and she would one day be his wife. His family didn't take his declaration that seriously. All laughed but Sara, who continued to support him despite what his mother, father and sister thought.

He looked back on that time in his life now with fondness, knowing how it shaped him. Despite being so young, his feelings were just as intense as they were the day Vera left. Even when his father had told him of Vera's demand that a man must beat her in combat to be her husband, he hadn't even flinched. He would be that man.

He knew the task was daunting. Vera was the First Knight of Venos and widely regarded as the most powerful Knight of all the countries in central Ouros. The only one stronger was the one she served: The mythical Dark Knight, Queen Gida. But he wouldn't let the difficulty of his task make him stumble. When he was twelve he applied to Master Frankel's combat school. It was something of an institution within Yelmora and in Yeles as a whole. Tales were often told of the exploits of the hero, Frankel, former Legate of the Third and now known as the Sword of the Republic. To learn from him had been one of the great honours of Lencel's life. To be acknowledged by him as a fellow swordsman upon his graduation only six months ago had very nearly caused him to burst with pride.

When he and his father left his house that morning, he held onto those experiences, how they had changed him. He was no longer the boy who had followed Vera like a puppy around their estate. No, now he was a man grown and a warrior besides. He was still unable to best her. He'd only recently Bonded with his Smith and hadn't yet attended Tyra, but the timing couldn't be more perfect. With the Festival of Chivalry happening tomorrow, it would be the ideal time to declare his love for her and his intentions.

If only he could control his nerves.

Lencel and Calliston had been sitting at Linon's for nearly six hours before they received word of the First Knight's approach. The young man brought all his will to bear to master himself. He wasn't accompanying his father today, but a Senator of the Republic, one who was respected by all others. He couldn't allow his emotions to disrupt such a momentous arrival as the Princess of Venos.

Tea cold and forgotten, Lencel mounted his horse, vision swimming and hands shaking as he followed after his father. He ignored the Legionaries around him, ignored the sights and smells of the outer city. He focused on breathing, on keeping his joyous excitement contained.

She looked as beautiful as he remembered. More so in fact.

He immediately spotted her at the gates, almost spurring his horse forward right there and then. But he controlled himself, allowing his father to take the lead as they leisurely made their way down the line of people who were arriving for the Festival. It might have been the longest thirty seconds of his life. All those shifting around him, all the noise that filled the air, it dissipated as soon as she removed her scarf, her scowling features fixing on Calliston. Her annoyance at being ambushed clear.

Her hair was shorter than he remembered, but still shone with the most amazing shade of white. It was tied behind her head severely, as one would expect from a warrior as great as she. Her skin was pale, like liquid moonlight and made all the more radiant by her eyes. They shone like two chips of ice, each as deep as the ocean itself and twice as mysterious. The rags she wore might as well have been silk, for any fabric looked incredible on her regardless. Vera's eyes shifted to him after his father's opening words and he saw them soften, the hardness draining to be replaced by a fondness that made his mouth dry and his heart skip a beat within his chest.

“And young Lencel as well,” Her voice was as smooth as silk, the words running down his back like cool water, “My, how you've grown.”

The young man could barely contain the pride he felt at those words. He had chosen his best armour for the occasion, a set commissioned by his mother as a reward for graduating at the top of his class from Frankel's school. His back straightened and his chin lifted as he greeted the Ladies in return, doing his very best to keep his tone calm and restrained. It wasn't easy but he thought he just about managed it.

Then his father turned to who Lencel assumed was the Princess of Venos, but he wouldn't be able to tell considering he couldn't take his eyes off of Vera. She noticed his attentions and turned back to him, a brow raising in amusement as the smallest of smiles touched her lips.

“It is an honour to see you again, my Lady!” Lencel suddenly blurted out. He realised his mistake instantly. The young man's greeting had interrupted his father's words for the Princess.

Calliston August turned in his saddle to aim narrowed eyes at his son, his expression confused. Lencel quickly realised the reason for this. He had just greeted Lady Vera for the second time.

“Yes, you said that already,” Vera replied with a chuckle, her icy eyes dancing with mirth, “It is good to see you as well, Lencel.”

The young man grinned foolishly as his face flushed, his eyes immediately falling to the saddle of his horse. He continued to smile like an idiot even as his soul began to shrivel from his idiocy.

What was he doing!? He was not some lovestruck boy. He was a warrior, a full grown man with a sword on his hip. Well, it could be argued that he was lovestruck, but he had been hoping to make a much better first impression than making a fool of himself in front of Vera, her sister and their entire convoy by shouting like an idiot. The worst of it was that he could hear Zeli, his old friend, behind him. She was laughing under her breath and he was sure he caught a shake of her head at his expense.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Calliston said with a roll of his eyes as he returned his gaze to the Princess, “I welcome you to Yelmora, Princess. I an unsure if your parents have mentioned me to you before. We attended the Hall together many years ago.”

“Of course, Senator August,” Princess Elora said instantly in reply. If she was surprised by this turn of events she didn't show it in the least, her smile stunning and her beauty serene as her golden eyes fixed on Lencel's father, “My father speaks of you often and always with fondness.”

Lencel finally managed to pull his eyes away from Vera and look upon the young Princess of Venos. She truly was a beauty, one which would make even the most eligible women in Yelmora feel green with envy. Instead of the dress that Lencel had expected, the Princess was garbed in a simple tunic and breeches, each looking rather haggard from travel. Her hair, long enough to fall well past her shoulders when down, was tied up into a haphazard bun which spilled silken golden strands down her cheeks. At her hip was a dagger that was used for anything but ceremony and considering the way the Princess touched its hilt gently, she knew how to use it.

“I am glad to hear it!” Calliston replied with a jovial laugh, “When I heard you were coming I could think of no better way to greet you than at the gates of my city. Please, could you tell me how they are? I have heard no word out of Venos for quite some time. Last I heard, they were still in Dunwellen. Are they well? Did they escape?”

“They are fine and well, Senator,” Elora beamed, “Recently returned from Dunwellen, but safe and unharmed.”

Calliston breathed a sigh of relief and Lencel couldn't help but smile. He knew his father held only the highest of regards for King Julian and Queen Gida. To hear their safety confirmed by none over than their daughter would ease the worry that had followed his father like a cloud these past days.

“That is a relief to hear. I was very nearly going to head there myself to see if I could assist. I am glad to hear they made it back. I was hoping to convince you to stay a while, but now I simply must insist, to celebrate your parents victory over Dunhold. You couldn't have come at a more perfect time, with the Festival of Chivalry just around the corner. I am sure you are anxious to reach the Hall but I assure you it will be well worth the diversion.”

“The Hall?” The Princess suddenly froze. As Lencel watched, the young woman's hands tightened on the reigns of her horse and her eyes were touched by a subtle panic.

That was when Lencel spotted the man who walked behind her.

He was young, of about Lencel's age but he almost couldn't tell because of all the dirt. While the other members of the retinue looked to be worn from travel, this man looked about fit to keel over entirely, his clothing caked in the crimson earth of the Red Road. Lencel watched as he placed a hand subtly on the Princess' horse, staring at nothing in particular as he patted the beast's rump. The warrior noticed something shimmering on his face but it took him a second to identify it: A scar. A silver line that ran from the top of his forehead, through his right eye and nearly to his jaw. For some reason, the sight of this strange protector of the Princess made Lencel's hand shift towards the hilt of his sword, almost as though his body was reacting without his say. This did not go unnoticed by the man, who paused and stared up at him. His open eye was a shining emerald, one which fixed Lencel with an uncompromising stare. Absent emotion, but filled with intent. The warrior slowly withdrew his hand and barely suppressed a shiver.

Why did Lencel get the impression that if he drew his sword, his death was all but assured?

“Yes, of course,” Calliston said, looking faintly confused himself, “You are on pilgrimage to the Hall are you not? For training?

Just like that, Elora's gaze instantly cleared and the scarred man at her feet dropped his hand, “Of course, yes. We are hoping to commission a ferry to take us to Hostor and from there find a captain willing to carry us into the Empire.”

“It truly is a pleasure to see you, Princess, so please do not take offence at my words. But that is a strangely roundabout route to reach Tyra, considering it's on the other side of the continent. Would the Imperial Road not be the wiser path?” Calliston asked musingly as he touched a finger to his chin.

“I'm sure you've heard of the troubles we've suffered recently, Calliston,” Annabelle said hurriedly before Elora could reply, “The Princess and her Knight need training, but after the events of Elora's wedding we thought it best to take a different approach to the Hall.”

“Ah yes,” Lencel's father grimaced at that, his eyes suddenly filling with fury, “Of course that makes sense. A wise move, indeed. I must apologise, Princess. We have never met before, but I hope it is not too forward of me to say that I consider you to be family of a kind, with how close I am to your mother and father. I only wish that I had been there to aid you during that dark time.”

Elora smiled genuinely, sadly, “Your words are kind, Senator, and I thank you for them. But I believe all happens as the Spirit wills them to.”

After saying that, the Princess glanced behind her, to the man with the scarred face. He returned her smile with one of his own. For a moment, it seemed like the two of them saw nothing but each other, the intensity of the stare almost too much to look upon.

Vera ended the moment, and more of Calliston's questions, by cutting in front of the duo atop her horse, white hair touched by the wind, “I think it best if we continue this conversation away from my prying eyes, Calliston. We have no idea who our enemies are nor who we can trust. Best we move this into Yelmora.”

“O-of course, Lady Vera. My estate stands ready to receive you.” The Senator replied, waving a hand at Lencel who immediately nodded and turned to give orders to the Legionaries, “But may I ask... are they...?”

“That man is Orin of Myrin, Elora's Knight and, as of two weeks ago, her husband,” Vera sighed, chuckling as she did so, “It's a long story and one which must wait for the moment. We must move.”

Orin of Myrin. The name caused Lencel to freeze.

His father had been anxious for any news out of Venos since he became aware of Gida and Julian's trouble with Dunhold. Whispers about the wedding had come through only days before. The tale was tall, telling of how a single man, scarred and with sword in hand, had risen from the crowds gathered to celebrate the union of Duke Cellus and Princess Elora. This man had single-handedly fought a Knight despite not being one himself. What happens after that is garbled, more rumour than fact, though they all end the same way: With Orin of Myrin named Knight of the Princess.

Such a story would be more suited to the books read to children than reality, but upon looking back on the tremor of fear he felt after meeting the man's stare, he couldn't deny that he seemed dangerous. The fact that he was Elora's husband was also astonishing, considering that it essentially made Orin the next in line to become King of Venos. Curious indeed, especially so when one considered that all the stories pegged Orin as a commoner. They were treated as lessers in the Kingdoms of Fero, Dunhold and Venos. Lencel wondered if perhaps the tale of the Scarred Knight was far more unbelievable than he had first envisioned.

They made their way through the crowd at a steady clip, the Legionaries moving at the direction of Lencel to gently clear their path and grant the group easy access into Yelmora. He noticed Lady Vera ride over to Orin of Myrin, leaning over to whisper something quickly into his ear before returning to her place in the formation. Lencel quelled the jealousy that arose at the gesture: She was his protector, after all, and Orin was married besides. But Vera's urgency and seeming panic was at the back of Lencel's mind as he rode at their head next to his father.

Could things truly be so bad in Venos? When his father had first heard of the attack on the wedding, he assumed it was an outlier. A psychopath trying to prove some kind of point, but working independently. The way Vera spoke, she seemed to believe there was more to it.

Even if there was, Lencel would be there to help defend them. His father often spoke of Gida and Julian as though they were siblings. That made Elora his cousin after a fashion and the people of the Republic took their familial bonds very seriously. He would defend her with everything he had should the need arise, this he felt in his heart. Of course, if he managed to prove his worth to Lady Vera along the way, all the better for it.

They passed through the checkpoint without a problem, not one of the Legionaries on guard duty daring to stop a sitting Senator from going about his business. They found themselves on the road to the city proper, a long and unbroken line through the outer rural areas towards the Senate building, still far in the distance. Lencel took in the sights and allowed himself a small smile as he prepared to speak with Lady Vera. The flowing fields of wheat shimmered, a sweet scent filling the air that revitalised the young man and helped him to forget his impulsive second greeting. He subtly moved his horse closer to Vera. His father looked at him directly, more than a little amusement in his eyes, but he said nothing and for that Lencel was eternally thankful. The last thing he needed was to suffer more embarrassment in front of the woman he loved.

He quickly arranged his hair as he fell in beside her, noting that Annabelle raised an eyebrow at his presence.

“As I said, it is a pleasure to see you again- you both again, I mean. It has been too long, my Ladies.” Lencel smiled, his white teeth gleaming as he tried to stop his hand from twitching.

“That is the third time you have greeted us, Lencel.” Vera said.

“Is it? Oh, of course, it is. I must apologise, I didn't mean to... Well, I just wanted to say that... It is good to see you again, my Lady. I have not forgotten the lessons you taught me. I have stayed true to the warrior's path,” Lencel finished lamely, cursing himself with every syllable. He was hardly a wordsmith but he did like to think of himself as at least semi-articulate. He wrote a fair amount of poetry in his spare time, at his mother's insistence. Most were about Vera herself but still, he should be able to form sentences.

“I am glad to hear it, Lencel,” Vera smiled then and the young man trembled, “You were so talented as a boy. I'm glad to see that our brief time together did you good.”

“Oh, it did. More than that, I studied with Master Frankel after you left Yelmora, mastering the sword for six years. I am unbeaten in seventeen duels.” Lencel replied proudly.

“Frankel,” This time Annabelle spoke, her frosty tone causing Lencel to wither, “I know of him. The Sword of the Republic, a great man. I hadn't heard he was a teacher, though.”

Lencel beamed, basking in the small praise for the man who taught him, “He is. He trained me in the style of the Formless Sword. Master Frankel truly is a peerless swordsman without match in the Republic.”

A snort from behind the young warrior caused him to turn, catching sight of the largest man he had ever seen. So large, in fact, that Lencel wasn't sure how he had managed to miss him up to now.

The giant loomed over Lencel, his ruddy face staring. His beard and hair were streaked with grey, his large, dark eyes gleaming with an intelligence that belied a man that looked so... well, poorly put together. The large axe strapped to his saddle was a testament to his great strength. The young warrior felt a sudden bout of pity for the man's poor horse.

“Fucking Frankel,” The man shook his head with a chuckle, “He still the Legate of the Third?”

“Ah, no sir. He retired his post about ten years ago now. Do you know of him?” Lencel answered politely, slightly taken aback by the man's tone.

“I served under him for a time, learned a little of his style. He hadn't come up with a name back then. I'm glad he chose the least pretentious option,” The man said sarcastically, raising a wine skin to his lips, the spirit within dribbling down his chin, “Don't get me wrong, he's a solid fighter, but he gets too taken up with the 'rules of combat'. You need to fight dirty sometimes.”

Lencel bristled at that. He held Master Frankel in the highest of regards and he didn't for one second believe that anyone could refer to the Sword of the Republic merely as a 'solid fighter'.

“Leave it alone, Boldrin,” The words came from an unexpected source: Orin of Myrin, who rode slightly behind the Princess, “We're guests, you don't have insult everyone we meet.”

Orin's voice was surprisingly soft, but his tone felt like granite to Lencel's ears. The young man seemed to pull the attention of all those around him, with Vera, Annabelle and the rest of Elora's retinue turning to him. There was a strange aura to the warrior, one which seemed to pull you in the longer you looked. Lencel had seen this phenomenon a few times before, though it was always in great generals and leaders like his father, those who commanded respect through experience. Lencel found himself growing more curious about the Scarred Knight of Venos.

That was when he noticed for the first time another young woman of an age with Elora, riding beside him. She met his eyes briefly and Lencel felt his heart stop. Her cutting steel stare examined him closely, almost intimately. The violence he saw in that gaze was barely restrained, like the tension one saw in the muscles of a predator getting ready to pounce on her prey. Her rough cut auburn hair only added to her fierce visage. Whoever this young woman was, she gave off much the same feeling as Orin himself did, though far more acutely. For some reason, Lencel believed he was staring at an existence far higher up the food chain and one which would end him without a single flutter of remorse. He averted his eyes quickly. What kind of monsters did the Princess of Venos associate with?

“I apologise on behalf of my friend, Lencel of Yelmora. He's drunk.” Orin said with a chuckle. The strangest thing was that when he did so, the seemingly stoic warrior woman smiled at him affectionately, her eyes losing their violent intent and a small flush crawling across her cheeks.

“I ain't pissed, boy. Not yet, at least,” The man named Boldrin said, gesticulating with his wine skin and spilling some of the foul smelling brew onto the ground below.

“I thought you said that all of Brin's brew was gone?”

“Aye, I did that. All for public consumption, this is from my own private stash,” The man boomed with laughter, the sound so loud that it startled all the horses with the exception of his own and Orin's, “Kid's right though. I'm being a jackass. You must be one tough little fucker to get through Frankel's training. He still do that shit with the barrels?”

Lencel simultaneously filled with pride at the compliment and winced at the memory, “He does. Every morning before the sun rises.”

“Spirit, I hated that,” Boldrin sighed then, almost fondly, “His style is solid enough, though it's a bit too showy for my tastes.”

“You are from Yeles, Boldrin? May I ask from where?” Lencel asked politely, he could hardly believe this man was once a Legionary.

“Aye, this land is my home,” Boldrin said fondly, “You wouldn't have heard of where I'm from, I'm sure. I served in the Third for a few years and then the Sixth for a while, some of the best times of my life. I've heard of your father, of course, though I never had the pleasure of meeting him. What about you, young Lencel? When does your tour begin?”

All young men of age are expected to put in one tour of service in the Legions for the sake of the Republic. Lencel himself was no exception and was eagerly awaiting his chance to see real combat, but he would have to wait a while yet before that would be possible.

“Not for some time, I'm afraid,” Lencel said sullenly, “I only recently Bonded with my Smith and so have to wait until the spring to go to the Hall and attend training. Only after that can I take the forty three oaths.”

“Congratulations, Lencel,” Vera said softly, yanking the young warrior from his frustrated thoughts and back into the sun with such force he almost got whiplash, “I'm sure you will make a formidable Knight in the future. Who is your Smith?”

“T-thank you, my Lady,” Lencel blushed at the compliment and smiled at his saddle once more, “A young man from the burrows in the city, named Rig. We Bonded a month ago now. His mother is the Smith of Legate Terrence Burgem of the Fifth.”

“They made Terrance a Legate?” Boldrin said, dirty fingers running through an even dirtier beard, “A good choice that. Quiet lad, but he gets the job done.”

Lencel found himself re-examining the large figure of Boldrin. He was quite bold to speak of Legates and heroes as though they were old drinking buddies that he had only recently parted ways with. Insulting the style of man like Frankel, however slight it may be, was tantamount to treason in Yelmora, the man much loved by the rich and poor alike. Yet Boldrin was currently in the company of Princesses and powerful Knights, so who could say he didn't know Legate Terrence of the Fifth? Lencel had met the man exactly once and that was during his Bonding ceremony with Rig. He had struck the Senator's son as an imposing warrior, one who did not suffer fools gladly. He imagined that even if the Legate did know the giant known as Boldrin, he wouldn't have liked him much.

“What is this festival your father mentioned, Lencel?” Annabelle asked, pulling Lencel from his thoughts and back onto the sister of the woman he loved, “He seems rather excited about it.”

He held a great amount of respect for Lady Annabelle. All those who met her did, for her very presence demanded it. She was the ice to Vera's fire in many ways and Lencel wasn't afraid to admit that the woman terrified him.

“T-The Festival of Chivalry, my Lady? It happens in Yelmora every year, a celebration of the Legions and the service they provide to the Republic.”

Boldrin grumbled at Lencel's words, “Damn. I thought we'd missed it by a month.”

“Problem, boss?” Orin asked, turning to his companion with a raised brow.

“Festival closes down the ports, kid. Doubt we'll find anything to take us to Hostor until its over.”

Orin of Myrin grimaced in response, “How long does it last?”

Lencel took this moment to interject, his voice filled with excitement, “It only lasts a day, Lord Orin, but what a day it is. The food, the wine, the duels: It truly is a magnificent sight.”

“Duels?” This time it was the strange young woman who asked, her grey eyes causing Lencel to hurriedly avert his own.

“Yes, my Lady. Many use the day to settle old grievances, or to prove who is the greatest combatant. No one can refuse a challenge so many among the younger generation see the Festival as an opportunity to make a name for themselves. I-I have even heard that many use the occasion to declare who they intend to marry and to invite challengers to their claim. It ends with a grand ball, one which takes place in the Senate building itself. It makes for an incredible sight.”

“Shit, indeed, Boldrin,” Orin grimaced, turning to the woman next to him, “Chances that I'll have to fight if we stay?”

The woman grinned, a sight which made Lencel shiver. It was so deadly that he was surprised Orin could stand to look upon it, “All but certain.”

“Agreed,” Orin frowned, looking to the mane of his horse, “We should think about making tracks soon. I don't want to have to kick the shit out of a bunch of prissy would-be warriors hoping to make a name for themselves.”

“Confidence is important, Lord Orin,” Lencel said instantly, the words of Master Frankel falling from his lips instinctively, “But I assure you, we have many capable fighters in the Republic. Victory is never guaranteed”

“Aye, I know that better than most,” Boldrin said with chuckle, “But the boy's right to be cocky. Those other fighters haven't been trained by me. Few could beat Orin when he has a sword in his hand and those that could are experienced Knights. Of course, any other weapon and he'll last all of two seconds.”

“I think I'd put up a better fight than that, Boldrin,” Orin protested.

“I think the world of you, kid, but with anything else you don't know what the fuck you're doing. Even giving you a stick to practice with is pushing it.”

As Orin and Boldrin talked, Lencel leaned over to Lady Vera, his eyes still fixed on the Scarred Knight. He spoke in a hushed whisper, “Are the stories of Orin's prowess true, my Lady? They say he beat a Knight despite being mortal himself. It seems unbelievable.”

Vera chuckled at that, her eyes latching onto Orin in a way that made Lencel faintly uncomfortable, “Yet he did just that, after a fashion. Orin didn't beat him until after he Bonded, but he did manage to free me and put a weapon in my hand. All while being beaten to a pulp by a mad Knight. As for his fighting ability, I don't think I've ever seen someone as good as him with a sword. Boldrin is one but I assure you, the difference in skill between them is negligible. Orin has defeated graduates of the Hall in combat, most only a few weeks after Bonding with the Princess.”

“Weeks?” Lencel could barely get the word out, it seemed to stick in his throat. That should be plainly impossible. Lencel himself was only weeks into his own Knighthood and the chances of him beating a Knight who had been trained at the Hall... well, he didn't like his chances.

Vera nodded, her stare still fixed on the Knight of the Princess, “And he's only gotten better since then. Boldrin's right, chances of someone his own age besting him are slim.”

Anyone his own age. That included Lencel.

Lencel fought against the sudden bout of jealousy welling up inside of him. The way Lady Vera spoke of Orin, the fondness in her voice, it was almost too much for him to take. He knew that she hadn't meant to hurt his feelings and yet hurt they were. He reassured himself with the thought that she didn't know what he was capable of now. Boldrin seemed a fine man and a good fighter, but Lencel very much doubted he was the match of Master Frankel. If that was indeed true, then Lencel's superior training would allow him to best Orin. He tried to temper his hubris, to embody the lesson he had just told the Scarred Knight himself, but found it difficult with Vera looking at Orin in such a naked manner.

“Can I ask you something, Lencel?” Vera's words were like honey, so sweet were they that he could almost taste them. It immediately banished the dark thoughts from his mind.

“A-anything, Lady Vera.”

“How did your father know we were coming? Its rather odd. Only the King, Queen and a handful of others knew the route we were taking.” Vera's smile was infectious and Lencel found his eyes drawn to her lips before he hurriedly averted them, staring at the mane of her steed instead.

“I don't rightly know, my Lady,” Lencel turned to his father who was slightly ahead of the group with Princess Elora, gesturing grandly as he showed off the outer city to the beautiful young woman, “He said that the information came from a sound source, though. They knew you would be arriving today, but he was unsure as to the time so we were waiting at the tea room for your arrival.”

“I see,” Vera said, “They wouldn't happen to be working for the Hall, would they?”

Lencel frowned in confusion, “I don't believe so. At least, father never mentioned it to me.”

“Thank you. I apologise if I'm being forward,” The First Knight said with a shrug, “I was just curious. After what happened at Elora's wedding we can't be too careful these days.”

The young man's eyes widened at the implication, “You don't think that we would-”

“Never, Lencel,” Vera placed a hand on his arm and he couldn't help the feeling of warmth that ran the length of his body, “Banish the thought from your mind.”

“Lady Annabelle,” A voice came from directly behind them and Lencel turned to catch sight of the last two members of Elora's retinue. These may be the strangest of all, in truth.

They seemed Ragoran to Lencel's eye, their dark skin and rather colourful clothes a staple of the people in the Eastern Islands. They could be from Corrocoe or perhaps even Wellind, but the distinct lack of animal bones in their hair and paint on their faces was something of a giveaway. The Princess of Venos certainly had a rather eclectic entourage.

The one who spoke was the shorter of the two and clearly a warrior. They way he held himself atop his horse was enough to tell Lencel that even if the sword at his hip was not, “I believe we should move on as soon as possible. Time waits for no one.”

The First Smith of Venos turned her cold stare on the man, “Have no fear, Alden. All is in hand.”

The Ragoran named Alden flushed at the dismissal and made to say something else before coming to a dead stop, his gaze pulled over towards Orin of Myrin. Lencel followed the man's eye and discovered it was not the Knight of the Princess who he was staring at, but the young woman riding beside him. She looked at the man with narrowed eyes and shook her head subtly, prompting an immediate reply from Alden in the form of a bowed head.

Lencel frowned at the sight. He wasn't sure on the specifics of how Elora's guard operated, but clearly the woman next to Orin held a greater degree of authority than Lencel had first realised, to quell the temper of a clearly experienced warrior so effectively.

They continued on their way with no further issues, the conversation becoming strangely banal. Lencel hadn't noticed it upon meeting the small group at the gates, too taken with seeing Lady Vera again to notice, but a strange tension seemed to suffuse them. They looked relaxed enough to the eye, but Lencel had trained with many warriors over the years, the very best that Yelmora and the Republic had to offer. He had grown used to the sight of those preparing for a battle, yet for the life of him he couldn't understand why. He knew Vera to be very pragmatic, she must know that they were safe within Yelmora. No member of the August Household would dare to raise a finger against the Princess, his father had said so himself plainly enough.

So why? What was so terrible that it was causing Lady Vera to act so bizarrely? It couldn't be the fact that they were attacked at the wedding. While a certain amount of paranoia after so terrible an event was expected, to such an extent as this? Lencel was growing more uneasy the closer they got to the estate. The air felt pregnant, the sun darkening, almost as if the world was about to explode at any moment.

They arrived at the gates to the August home only an hour after leaving the checkpoint. His father clearly couldn't feel what Lencel did, because he continued to speak with the Princess without a care, proudly showing off the bounty his fruitful life had offered him.

Calliston August had been born with nothing. His parents were fruit farmers and he'd worked himself to the bone to provide a good life for his family. After going to the Hall, serving in the military and proving himself as a merchant, he had decided that he wanted to continue to serve the Republic in a more public role, winning the Senatorial seat for Yelmora and the surrounding area by a landslide. He was an ideal to Lencel. A man who had gained everything, but had never let it infect his spirit as his son had seen happen to so many others before and since. To remain humble, rooted, was his father's philosophy and one he had worked hard to ingrain in his children. They were never given anything. They had grown up in luxury, but they were always aware that such things were fleeting and could be taken away at a moment's notice. One had to make their own way in the world, had to find their place. It was only when Lady Vera had arrived at their door that Lencel had found his.

“My wife and daughters will be thrilled to meet you and your husband, Princess,” Calliston said, he and the Flower of Myrin slowing to allow the others to catch up with them before they continued down the path through the scenic grounds of Lencel's home, “We have only read about you in letters up till now and I'm sure you would like the chance to sleep in a real bed. Perhaps even a fresh change of clothes! I could send for the tailor at once.”

“Your offer of hospitality is very kind, Senator-”

“Please, call me Calliston.”

“Calliston, We have many miles more to travel and after the events in my homeland, I don't think Lady Vera and Lady Annabelle will want us to stay in one place for too long.”

“Calliston,” Annabelle said sharply as soon they were through the gates, “We must speak.”

The Senator pulled himself to a stop, smiling back enthusiastically towards the First Smith, “Of course, my Lady. I have prepared quite the welcome at the house.”

“Not at the house,” Annabelle pulled her steed to a stop, as did every other member of the Princess' retinue. The Legionaries, taken by surprise at the suddenness of the action, hurriedly followed suit before they drove their mounts into the backs of their honoured guests. “We are far enough away from the crowds. We will speak now.”

Calliston frowned, looking confused as he suddenly seemed to sense the tension that Lencel himself had been feeling for quite some time, “Annabelle? Is everything alright?”

“We would like to know how you knew we were coming to Yelmora,” Annabelle's words were firm, “It is important, Calliston.”

“Ah,” Calliston smiled brightly, “I understand your hesitation but believe me, there is nothing nefarious about it. I was informed by someone I trust.”

“Who?” Vera asked, her voice just as frosty as her sister.

Calliston seemed taken aback my Vera's tone, “Lady Vera, I can promise you that I mean you no harm. Surely you don't think I would do anything to endanger you or your charge?”

“Not knowingly, perhaps.” Annabelle said, “But you don't know the full story, Calliston.”

“Then enlighten me,” Lencel's father replied, his own tone firming to match the First Smith's, “I don't enjoy being lied to, Annabelle. I've spend long enough in the Senate to know when I'm being kept in the dark. I'd have to be an idiot not to considering the lot of you look like my Legionaries are going to attack you at any moment. I am not your enemy, I promise you that.”

“Enough of this shit.”

Calliston, Vera and Annabelle's eyes were all drawn to the young, scarred Knight named Orin. Lencel missed it, but the Princess had moved back towards her Knight and was currently on her horse next to the woman with the intense stare, her face composed. Orin had dismounted, arms folded and stare intense.

“Orin, I have this under control.”

“Clearly,” The Knight of the Princess replied sarcastically, “How far were we going to wander into the belly of the beast before you decided that it might be the right time to ask what the fuck was going on? You told me to be patient and I have been, but I'm not going to head into a trap.”

“Spirit, Orin, I'm handling it!” Vera shouted at the young man. Lencel could detect the faintest hint of panic in her voice, “You don't need to escalate things.”

“With all due respect, Vera, I think its exactly the time to start escalating. It usually works faster. Where's the harm?”

“For us? Next to none,” Boldrin chuckled, his hand fingering the blade of the axe on his saddle, “Could be bad for them though.”

“Did you know that Elora and I escaped the palace in Myrin, Senator?”

Calliston was confused by the suddenness of the odd question and didn't have the chance to answer before the young man continued.

“I'm sure you know Lord Yale, the Spymaster for the King and Queen. He's very good at his job, the best at what he does and that fact I don't doubt for a second. But when we escaped, it was with someone who knows how to stay invisible, who knows how to escape the notice of unwanted eyes. He's so good at it, in fact, that Lord Yale wasn't able to locate us despite knowing our destination,” Orin stared grimly at the Senator, “You did not. You have heard little to no news out of Venos with the exception of the events surrounding Elora's wedding and Dunwellen. There was no way, Senator, you could have known when we would arrive. Especially when we didn't know exactly when we'd arrive. Yet we found you waiting for us regardless.”

“I can assure you, Orin of Myrin, I am no danger to you or your wife. The answer to your question is complicated and one which would be better answered in private.”

“This is private enough. No innocents to get in the way.” Orin shrugged before reaching over to his horse and dragging his sword free of its sheath.

What followed was mayhem. The Legionaries all levelled their spears at the young man, Lencel dragging his own blade free on instinct in the bedlam of shouted warnings. The giant Boldrin ripped his giant axe free and hefted it in his hands, growling as he placed himself on Orin's flank. The woman with the near feral eyes freed both of her daggers, the slim blades seemingly jumping into her hands as she all but snarled at the men and women around her, her lips pulled back to reveal sharp canines. The Ragoran warrior drew his sabre with one swift motion, his teeth gritted as he twirled the blade expertly, even as his companion placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Spirit, calm yourself, Orin!” Vera snapped, holding up a placating hand to the young man while the other was aimed at the Legionaries, “He is a friend!”

“Your friend, maybe, but not mine,” Orin replied calmly, not even looking at the Legionaries, who still shouted at him to place his weapon down, “You and your son seem to be good men, Senator. Vera and Annabelle clearly trust you, but I won't be moving from this spot until I have an answer. If I don't get one that sits right, I'll be leaving with Elora and Tess.”

“Please, Lord Orin,” Calliston began slowly, his hands to his sides, his eyes soft, “Don't do something you will later regret.”

Orin sighed and dipped his head, examining the sword in his hand, “I never regret defending the two people who mean the most to me in this world, Senator. Do not ask me what I would not do to keep them safe.”

The Scarred Knight looked at Lencel's father, his burning emerald eye blazing with the conviction of his words, “The answer would terrify you.”

Lencel fought to keep an involuntary tremble from running through his arm. The world around him suddenly felt denser, as though a storm was approaching and yet the sky was as clear as it was moments before. The young warrior could've sworn he smelled lightning and tasted rain on the air.

“I know it terrifies me."

Lencel watched the Knight of Myrin, flanked by the Princess of Venos, who stared forward stoically. Something in the Flower of Myrin changed then. The dirt, the clothes, all the muck that hid her sovereignty fell away and revealed a Queen in its place. Her eyes, golden and glowing with superiority, were fixed on Calliston. Lencel thought he saw a flicker of something within, a dark star that passed over her iris. So quickly did it appear that the son of the Senator didn't know whether he had truly seen it at all.

The other young woman, Tess, let loose with a predatory smile. Her daggers returned to her sheaths and forgotten. Her glare gleamed with bloodlust, eyes the colour of steel and cutting through all she surveyed. Her canines looked to be sharp enough to slice through flesh with ease as the calm winds of the Republic ruffled her clothes and hair.

“I'll take that name now.”