Chapter 74

After going through several streets and two alleys, Harrid found himself in front of the house; an old ragged building that was barely standing.

He walked up to the door and knocked. A moment passed before the door was opened by a girl, Yanna.

He stared at her shining eyes. They were what he found loveliest about her. Some had called her cursed because of them, because of the way they captured one's attention. "Yanna," he uttered with a dry throat.

It took her a moment to realize who it was, then concern crept onto her face. "Harrid, are you well?"

Before he could answer, a shadow appeared behind her. It was one of the guards the lord had sent to protect her. He glanced at Harrid and seemed to recognize him, then he stepped back into the house.

Harrid moved his eyes back to Yanna.

She gestured for him to enter, and he did. She led him into one of the rooms and then turned around, staring at him. "Tell me."

"I'm well, Yanna. I just wanted to see you," he said, refusing to meet her eyes.

"You're lying," she said, pointing at his face and chuckling. "You can't lie to me, Harrid." She paused for a moment and laughed again. "Heh, you can't lie to anyone."

He sighed and chuckled nervously. "It is nothing. You need not worry about me."

She fiddled with her hair for a moment, apparently puzzled. Then she stepped closer and took him by the hands, pulling him towards one of the chairs and sitting him down. "I have no one else to worry about."

He sat down and gazed at her eyes again. How clever they always seemed. The first time he'd seen them, they'd invoked some kind of trust from within him, trust in her. They had become friends since then; companions in the struggle of hunger and treading alleys.

"Speak," she said impatiently, jerking her face closer to his until he could see nothing else but her features. She was scrutinizing him, waiting to catch him trying to lie again.

He smiled anxiously and fidgeted in his seat, wishing he could run again. "Master Rudolf." He threw the words out, neglecting to say anything else.

"He's training you now, right?" she tilted her head. "Has something gone wrong with your training? Did you do something wrong?" She narrowed her eyes.

The continuous questions didn't give him a chance to answer. He gave her a glare for her lack of faith in him. Then he said, "I didn't."

"Then what is it?" she said, withdrawing her head. "Tell me already, Harrid." She gave him a tired look.

"Ahem," he gulped, twisting further into his seat. "Master Rudolf. He . . . He told me that I have to marry his daughter if I want to continue receiving his training and become a knight."

Yanna froze for a moment, then she seemed to get a grip on herself and relaxed. She gulped too. "And what did you say?"

He rubbed his head and flashed an embarrassed half-smile. "I ran."

"You ran?" She stared at him, perplexed.

"Yes. He surprised me." He paused for a moment and looked at her, his eyes drooping slightly. "But I didn't accept." He smiled.

Yanna frowned. "Why did he want you to marry his daughter?"

Harrid took a breath. "He has no sons. He wanted me to carry the name of his family, and he wanted me to have children of his family as well. He said I had to marry his daughter for my children to be truly of his family,of his blood. Carrying his name isn't enough. He even said that I only need to have a child with his daughter, and I would be free after that."

"And what was your answer to that?" she asked.

He smiled wryly and said, "I was running."

Yanna sighed and shook her head. "We can't go back to the streets Harrid."

"I know," he nodded.

She was silent for a moment, apparently contemplating something. Then she looked at him with determination. "Accept it, Harrid."

"What?" He jumped up, staring at her. "But . . . I can't." His eyes were unmoving, still fixed on her.

"You must," she said. "You aren't the lord's attendant anymore, and you know Master Rudolf is closer to the lord than we are. If we return to those alleys again . . . " She shook her head. "You must accept. You would become a knight, Harrid. We wouldn't have anything to fear anymore."

"But . . . " he stepped closer to her. "You."

"I know, Harrid," she gave him a sad smile and extended her hand, touching his fingers. "I will wait for you. You only need to have a child with her. So that we may become stronger. I'm learning how to read. You must learn how to fight."

"I—I don't know," he looked at her hand that touched his.

"It would be worse in the streets, Harrid. We would never be able to stay together. I've seen what happens to girls who show signs of growing up."

He gulped and nodded, clenching his fist. "I will accept."

She stepped closer and held his hand tighter. "I won't go anywhere."

He nodded and felt his heart beat louder than ever. "I will return to Master Rudolf before nightfall. Perhaps he will forgive me."

ß----------------------------------------à

Gerald flipped another page of his brother's journal and continued reading. He was near the end, but he hadn't read anything peculiar so far.

'Father is hiding something. I heard one of his guards whisper to him about trespassers from the south. It must have been that devil spawn, Westwell. What more does he want? Does he want to rob our coffers too? A wolf like him won't be sated with the mine he'd taken. The more we give him, the more he will covet.'

Gerald stopped. He hadn't heard about any trespassing from Arthur. The minister wouldn't have neglected to mention something of that sort when he'd asked him about the neighbors to the south.

'I ask and ask, yet he refuses to give me an honest answer. Yesterday, he even silenced me. I was so furious that I couldn't even find the journal to confide in for a whole day. My anger had blinded me from seeing it lying behind the candles. I must be going mad, but I won't let myself become him.'

Gerald raised a brow. He'd found the journal behind the candles as well, but not in his brother's chambers. His brother's inability to find the journal on the mentioned day also led him to have some doubts. Perhaps his father had found it and had returned it a day later. He skimmed through another two pages, both about his brother's buried anger and his promises to change everything. Then he flipped a few more pages until he reached the tale of a different day.

'I haven't seen father anxious like this for years. Something seems to be in the works, but he won't speak to me. I often find him pacing or in deep contemplation. He hasn't been this lively for a very long time. Perhaps it's something about my siblings? I will have to wait if I want to know.'

Gerald stopped reading when he heard a knock on the study's door. "Come in."

Frederick stepped in with a book in his hand. "My lord."

"Frederick," Gerald said, glancing at the unfamiliar book in the lad's hand. "Is someone without?"

"No, my lord," Frederick said. "I've brought this for you." He raised the book in his hands. "I thought you would like to read through it. It's a rare one." He approached the table and laid the book down.

"'The High Covenant'. It's a difficult one to get indeed," Gerald said, taking the book in his hands. He ran his hand over the smooth leather cover and the title carved into it. The High Covenant was quite well known across the continent. Two hundred years ago, all the Battlesaints on the continent had gathered and swore to not break the Covenant. Apparently, they had that no Battlesaint or Battlemaster was to be allowed to murder sovereigns. Gerald was not aware of the details of the Covenant. He only knew that it was what prevented the strongest Warriors of the continent from attempting to take the lives of Kings.

"Yes, my lord. This book is harder and harder to find the farther you travel south. Its author is still alive in the Kanad Kingdom."

Gerald nodded and rested the book on the table.

Frederick glanced at the bookcases in the study and then looked at Gerald. "Can I . . . ?"

"No," Gerald said, taking the journal in his hands again. "I will return your book when I finish it." In the corner of his eyes, he saw Frederick forcing a smile and nodding.

"My lord!" a breathless yell came from outside. Gerald recognized it as Robard's.

The knight trotted into the study followed by Arthur. The pair entered with red faces, obviously from anger.

"What is it?" Gerald stood up. Their voice suggested that he wouldn't be able to continue his reading for the day.

Arthur gestured for Robard and spoke first. "Lucas has sent word. His scouts have spotted a group of men passing through the southern pass. They aren't merchants. We believe they might be Count Westwell's men."

Gerald frowned. "What makes you think they're not merchants?"

"They didn't continue north, my lord. They've headed west. Lucas even thought that they had entered the basin with your consent at first."

Gerald's frown deepened. There was nothing southwest of Ard except a large forest. Were they heading there? "Are there many of them?"

"No, my lord," Robard said. "According to the scouts, there are about twenty of them. Some are armed, and some aren't."

"Why do you think they're Westwell's men?" Gerald glanced at his old minister.

Arthur pressed his lips then said, "because they seem to be prospecting he mountains for ore veins, my lord."

The corner of Gerald's mouth twitched then his jaw clenched instinctively. "He is a damned devil spawn," he muttered to himself. He'd thought that their neighbors to the south would begin to understand that his house wasn't the downtrodden prey it had been before, and the Baronies' attempt at befriending him had led him to believe that he was on the right path, but it seemed that things weren't going to be that simple.

"Summon Gasper."