The silence that permeated the kitchen was stifling. For several moments, no one looked anywhere near Sir Harris, as he stood wordlessly seething in his sister’s absence.

Peter and Heather had dutifully stepped further away from the Knights as the air crackled with the promise of violence.

“So… I take it you have some family drama?” Fin asked lightly.

“What a bitch!” Hannah exploded suddenly, her fists curled at her side. “What rank of nobility do I have to be to pummel that woman without being sentenced to death?” Hannah whirled around to face Sir Taylor who jumped at the sudden movement.

“Er-- she’s the daughter of a Duchess? Well… right now only three other noble families rank on her level. Whomever she marries will more than likely inherit the title of duke unless…” Sir Taylor glanced at Sir Harris in obvious discomfort.

“Unless I claim the title for my own damn self.”

No one had seen Sir Harris as anything other than sarcastic or teasing in any given scenario, so the man who stood before them now with rage burning in his eyes and a steely set to his jaw was all the more frightening. How could there be two extreme personalities in one being?

Fin turned to the knight cautiously. “... Sir Harris, I don’t mean to pry, but-”

“I’m a bastard.” Sir Harris’ fierce gaze moved to the cook. “My mother was the wife of a blacksmith who was commissioned by the Duke Iones for a decorative sword. It literally killed the man to make it. He had been in poor health for some time, but the pay was too generous to pass up when he knew he was dying. Within a fortnight the Duke came to our house and offered my mother half the agreed price or nothing. Unless she,” Ire choked the words from him.

“Is he dead?” Hannah demanded, her eyes glinting wickedly.

“Yes.”

“Good. My to do list is shorter,” she seethed, turning her glare back to the closed kitchen door.

Sir Taylor scratched the back of neck awkwardly. “Careful there, Hannah. If you’re heard talkin’ like that you could be exiled or flogged…”

Fin looked at Sir Taylor carefully. After studying him for a moment, his gaze moved to Sirs Andrews and Lewis.

“It occurs to me now, I don’t know nearly enough about all of you. Sir Andrews, I know your mother was a seamstress, but that’s the extent of it.”

The trio of men glanced at each other with unreadable expressions. However, the wordless communication that the three often shared took longer to be settled this time. Sir Harris was oblivious to the exchange as he stormed over to the ale barrel, snatched a mug from the shelf, and poured himself a drink to the brim. Peter and Heather shrunk towards the garden door hopefully.

Hannah gazed at the auburn-haired knight worriedly, her anger taking a back seat to her concern before she then moved her attention to the trio.

“Out with it!” she snapped.

Sir Taylor turned, a small frown on his face at her tone. For the first time in a long time Hannah hesitated, before dropping her gaze, chastened. “I’m sorry. I’m too riled up after that woman.”

The Knight nodded appreciatively before turning to Fin then.

“I am the highest ranking of us kitchen Knights. My father is a lower ranking Baron in Xava, and I’m his eldest. I will be inheriting the title Baron once he passes, as well as seeing that my six younger brothers are taken care of.”

Sir Lewis surprised everyone by speaking next.

“I am the youngest son of my family. My father was a respectable Knight, and we own several acres with tenants just south of Xava. I have three older sisters, and given that they are nearly two decades older than myself, my eldest sister’s husband inherited the majority of the land. My mother found out she was with child shortly after my father’s death--a second marriage you see.”

Fin nodded, envisioning Sir Lewis as the youngest amongst a brood of women seemed fitting.

Sir Andrews shifted uncomfortably, but received an encouraging nod from Sir Lewis that had him stepping forward.

“I am the illegitimate son of Earl Laurent. My mother was his mistress even before he entered into his marriage with Lady Isobel Laurent. Though I came more than a decade after the marriage…” Sir Andrews shifted awkwardly. “After I was born, my mother was cast out. It would seem Lady Laurent was only willing to tolerate her existence so long as there were no bastards.”

Fin’s jaw dropped.

Lady Isobel Laurent had been his dance instructor in the times leading up to the ball. She had been a prim, regimented woman, a cousin to the King…

“I never knew the nobility liked to make their lives so much more difficult,” Hannah remarked awed.

“You think my father or Andrews’ gave a rat’s ass about the price their commoner lovers had to pay?” Sir Harris barked, slamming his tankard down on the ledge. “Did you know I met my father twice before the old bastard died?” Sir Harris poured himself another ale.

“The first time I was four. He came when my mother had sent a letter pleading him for enough coin for firewood so that we wouldn’t freeze to death. The villagers had scorned her as a used woman, and so they all turned their back on us. They didn’t care that they’d known her all her life, or that she had no choice in becoming a mistress.” Sir Harris downed the tankard. “He came. Gave her three coppers, and told her that was all she’d be getting if the child his wife bore next was a boy.”

The room was deathly quiet.

“It would seem the Gods have a twisted sense of justice because all he got was Marigold. Then he never could get that cold bitch of a wife pregnant again.” Sir Harris’ back remained turned to them as he finished the second tankard. “He didn’t return until I was fifteen. He gave me an old sword and said if I wanted to inherit the Dukedom, I’d have to take it for myself. Told him I wanted no part of it. I didn’t want anything he had touched.” Disgust dripped in Sir Harris’ voice as he poured a third ale for himself.

“Then, the glorious day of his death. I received an official summons from the magistrate of Sorlia. Imagine my surprise when the Duchess and my sister saw me and learned of my existence. To this day, unless Marigold marries, I can lay claim to the title. Of course there have been several attempts to have me… dealt with. So I disappeared. I joined the Royal Knights six years ago when Captain Antonio stumbled upon me working as a mercenary.”

No one moved to stop the man from finishing the third ale. Everyone stood frozen to the spot.

“What would happen if you… if you tried to claim the Dukedom?” Sir Andrews risked asking.

“Oh my dear father had several stipulations. I had to have served in the military for at least five years, and completed a year serving a noble household to learn reading, writing, and have the basic understanding of how to run a Dukedom. An impossible task should the Duke or Duchess Iones not want it to happen.”

“I see… how would one learn anything about such a role without learning under your deceased father?” Peter piped up for the first time that morning while sharing a worried glance with Heather.

“There are three other Dukedoms in the Kingdom, remember? One for each city. I just so happened to have served under Duke Cowan in Rollom a year after Captain Antonio found me.” A ruthless chuckle escaped Sir Harris’ lips.

“Clever old git that the Captain is, knew more than he would ever let on. ‘Knew exactly who I was and what the will’s stipulation was. Of course I’ve had my suspicions that he acted on the orders of the King… Otherwise I have no doubt Duchess Iones would’ve put a halt to my joining the household of Duke Cowan.”

The mounting tension in the air was broken by Sir Taylor when he blurted out loudly, “Gods man! You mean to tell us you could be the next Duke Iones?!”

Sir Harris turned around with a cold smile that was eerily similar to the one his sister had given him earlier that morning.

“I never said I wanted it. Never planned on going after it. I wanted to go after my own fortune, but I must say…” He trailed off with a choked laugh while shaking his head. “That brat of a sister is making me rethink a few things. I don’t think I can let someone like her wield power. Not with a war on the horizon.” Slamming the mug down on the ledge, Sir Harris stormed out the garden door without another word, startling poor Heather and making her squeak.

“He was swayed so easily.” Fin blinked as he watched the back of the Knight retreat down the garden path.

“Not everyone is as dense as you,” Sir Andrews muttered under his breath. When the redhead shot him a narrowed eyed stare, the man had the good sense to look away.

“Some people survive by protecting themselves, others by adapting. I think Sir Harris is the latter,” Sir Lewis observed with a frown.

“Or he always had wanted it and just needed an excuse to feel like it was alright,” the witch added thoughtfully.

“I’m worried what his sister will do,” Sir Lewis announced, staring at the doorway.

“You think she’ll try to stop him?” Peter asked, stepping forward to rejoin the group.

“Harris just mentioned that they’d tried to have him dealt with… then there is the fact that his mother died in a fire shortly after his father’s death-”

“I beg your pardon?” Fin’s attention snapped to the Knight in alarm.

“Aye. He joined the mercenaries when he was sixteen? Seventeen?” Sir Taylor looked at Sir Andrews who nodded to confirm the information.

An icy dread crept into Fin’s stomach.

“Hannah, go find Sir Harris,” he instructed with an edge in his tone.

The blonde looked at him, perplexed.

“You’re the only one of us who can calm him down. Bring him back here. We need to figure out how we can help him become the next Duke Iones, and keep him alive in the process.”

*

Pulling the drawstring tightly on his sack, Fin straightened. His mother stood behind him in the doorway of his bedroom wringing her hands anxiously. It was the first morning of his week off of his duties, and Kate was not taking his departure well.

“I don’t like that you’re staying in the city. Why not save your coin and come back at night to sleep here?”

“Because it’s a long walk back and I think it’d be nice to stay somewhere near the sea,” he lied easily. The truth was he knew it’d be suspicious behavior for him to poke around Austice then keep returning to the castle.

“You grew up around the sea, you’ve gotten your fill,” Kate snapped irritably.

Fin turned with a smile to face her. She had been the same way when he had been preparing to come work for the King.

“It’s only for a week. I’ll be back before you know it. Besides, you’re barely here anyway. You’re either with the Queen or seeing to everyone else’s ailments.” Fin planted a dutiful kiss on his mother’s cheek. “You used to go to Rollom for weeks at a time without me.”

“Yes, but I knew you’d be safe at home!” she exclaimed, following her son as he approached the door. “Your familiar hasn’t been back since you left the other night, and you haven’t told me about Lady Jenoure and I-I- Finlay!” She called out as he placed his hand on the door.

With a sigh, the redhead turned around and embraced his mother.

“It’s only for a week. Kraken is fine, I can feel him somewhere in the city. I might even find him while I’m there. Lady Jenoure and I are… fine. Just relax! Maybe invite Hannah and Heather over to have some tea, the Gods know that Heather needs to be less afraid of the rest of the kitchen staff and Hannah needs to be a little less violent…”

Kate made a face that was a mix of hesitancy and concern. “You aren’t painting them as the most ideal of company, you know. Perhaps I’ll invite the rest of your aides over with them… I would love to hear more about all of these alleged adventures you seem to have gotten into since arriving. That Captain Antonio is quite an interesting man as well wouldn’t you say?”

Fin’s face dropped and he turned back hastily to the door.

“Have a lovely week, Mother.”

*

If he were being completely honest with himself, Fin was more than a little apprehensive about leaving the castle grounds. He just didn't want his mother to see and make him feel like an even bigger coward than he already was.

The truth of it was that Fin barely left the area that qualified as his home, and it had been that way since his childhood. Staying where he could protect himself and those he cared about made the most sense to him, so he hadn’t ever taken any unnecessary risks by wandering around in the great unknown. Even the journey to the castle had been wrought with anxiety. Were it not for his ability to defend himself reasonably well, Fin would never have bothered taking a job on the opposite end of the continent. Festivals and other gatherings off grounds were short visits for him, and the redhead preferred it that way.

Now however… something inside him was different. Risking his life to be with Annika had made him feel restless somehow. As though he’d cut away whatever was holding him back from growing…

The moment his foot cleared the perimeter of the King’s lawn, Fin felt his magic leave his body. It was always a strange sensation that he tried not to think about. If he had to liken the feeling to anything, it’d be akin to being untethered and cast adrift into a sea of unknown… Like a ship that had cast off without sails or oars.

In a matter of moments, Fin was strolling amongst the crowds of Austice. The freedom to follow the currents of people, to not feel every object, person, or plant’s presence was somehow quite peaceful. He didn’t feel what everyone was craving, didn’t sense the general mood, didn’t feel inanimate objects hum with the desire to be of use…

Another sense had been closed off, and as a result, Fin felt his other five shoot skyward.

It was exhilarating, passing by bakeries, and groups of gossiping women. He watched people’s faces as they went about their daily lives, consumed in their own thoughts, not noticing his attention on them. The smell of the sea and food cooking, the sounds of chattering and laughter, it was a wall of white noise that was somehow pleasing.

After walking for nearly an hour, the witch decided to grab a bite to eat at a pub that he was nearing on the right side of the road. As he headed towards the establishment, Fin failed to notice three cats eyeing him from the shadows of an alleyway as he passed by. The pub had an bold sign with gold lettering that shone against its deep green background. It swung cheerily above the door announcing its name to the world:

‘The All Or Null’

Taking the step down in front of the green door, the redhead reached to lift the handle when a voice sounded behind him over the noise of the street.

“Turning tail and running already? Good to see those socks are keeping your feet so damn warm.”

Fin swung around, his eyes wide. Before him stood Annika dressed in peasant garb, her long hair tied and hidden under a kerchief, and beautiful face smudged in dirt. She looked like several other women he had passed that morning on the road… only there was no hiding her fierce gaze.

Taking the step back up to place him back on the street, Fin stared down at Annika in the daylight as though in a trance. As he drew closer, the Viscountess faltered as her cheeks heightened in color at his proximity.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

He stared down into Annika’s burning dark eyes that made his heart skip a beat, then surprised her by smiling and reaching down to take her hand.

“Come inside with me, I’d like to buy you a meal.”