As it turned out, Melridge’s manor was on the far side of the city, far away from the northern gate and the guild hall. The place was known as New Honor, being the other-and most recent-district filled with nobles.

Volsten was familiar with it, though he had no idea the largest of the homes belonged to Sir Richard Melridge. A glaring hole of knowledge for a knight, but he never came to New Honor to sightsee, unless the sight being seen was a noble lady.

Any impact the revelation may have had was overwritten by the stinging of sweat in his eyes. The trek was long. Not unbearable, if one didn’t value their time, but long nonetheless, and the summer heat made it a wet trip.

Even that wouldn’t have been much of an issue for him, except for the fact that he carried Maren like a farmer’s harvest. The trek was not unbearable-for him. He had trained for years at the academy, and after it, to the point that his body was as fit and ready as a man’s could be without the aid of magic.

The same could not be said of a noble girl whose longest trip outside of a carriage was the short walk to Blue Street. He had felt the wilt in her body on the way to Hilda’s. Not long after leaving, she fell against him with heavy breaths. The Scarlet Beast had offered to carry the woman on her back, but Maren snapped at her like a wounded animal.

That left him. He protested in his mind, but took up her burden without a word otherwise. And that was how they walked, with Maren’s arms crossed over his chest as they passed curious onlookers.

In truth, it wasn’t so bad. Maren was nowhere near the heaviest thing he’d carried in his life, and the feeling of her breasts on his back was a welcome distraction. Still, to carry a person was always an awkward affair. What made it an annoying affair was Melridge’s insistence on showing her dreadfully freckled face every few moments, as if he would sink to the Narrows with his prey like a summoned demon.

They passed from the street to a finely set path of reddened brick. The path led under an arbor, trained with roses. Volsten thought the symbolism a little on the nose.

There was no gate to separate the manor from the rest of Tregar. And that made sense. Who would be idiotic enough to test their might against a house such as this? Even if one was too young to know the stories surrounding Sir Richard, his daughter’s reputation (and it pained Volsten to think such a thought) was more than enough to deter the unscrupulous.

After the arbor, the courtyard. Typical, as far as noble estates went, though the fountain was more forceful than any he’d seen. Outside of the courtyard was where the estate truly grew interesting. More than anything, it resembled a massive garden. Arbors stood at regular intervals, and though many were trained with roses like the one at the entrance, many still were adorned with a different variety. Brick paths interwove the blooming flowerbeds and created a sense of order among them. Servants went about the flowers, chatting amongst themselves as they tilted water-filled pots.

Goddess, Vora would love this, he thought.

Melridge halted. Had Volsten spent a moment more admiring the estate, he would have run her over.

He shifted Maren around on his back. From the way she breathed, she wasn’t far from sleep. “It’s bloody hot out here, you know,” he said.

Melridge wheeled around, smacking him in the face with her hair. It was…wet, to say the least, and was proof that the sun spared no one. Rivets of sweat trickled down her face, leaving it a glistening mess. She wiped at her forehead. “When we enter, don’t say a word. I haven’t explained this to my father yet.”

Volsten blinked away a few threatening drops of sweat. Melridge’s face was unlike before. The general disgust at his presence was there, but tempered by unsureness. Goddess, was she nervous? He couldn’t tell, but anything to leave this heat behind. “Yes, yes, whatever! May we enter before I and the lady cook?”

Melridge didn’t budge. Instead, she poked a finger into his sweaty chest. “We’re not going anywhere until I know you understand.”

Volsten stared at her, sweating.

“Say it, or you can fucking roast for all I care!”

“Oh my goddess-yes! YES! I shall take a vow of silence stronger than a Sister’s celibacy. I will not utter a word lest Inera cast me into oblivion. My mouth will be as tightly shut as Nisva’s tomb. My lungs shall-“

“I fucking get it!”

By now, a few of the servants had stopped to gawk. Nosey people, but it was likely that Melridge had few friends with her attitude. To see her leading someone home was cause for curiosity, if not concern.

They made their way up the steps. Before Melridge’s hand could make contact, the door opened. Volsten was two steps lower, his vision obscured, but the opener had to be exceptionally short. He could see nothing of them near Melridge’s head. What he could see were legs, covered with black stockings from shoeless foot to thigh. Beyond that was a skirt of considerable frilliness.

“What-shouldn’t you still be at the guild hall?” Melridge asked with an air of annoyance. “It’s the middle of the day!”

“When I heard you were going home, I had to leave. I can’t walk home at night without you.”

“And why is that? You aren’t a baby, you know! Also, you didn’t really go home, now did you?”

“Noooo,” the girl at the door said, “but I am a vulnerable young maiden. Danger lurks in every alley of this city, which is why I need a big, strong knight to protect me.”

Melridge groaned to hear it. “No shortage of those in the guild. Get one of those next time.”

“I’ll think about it, but it’s no trouble to the guild. Jessa promised it wasn’t. So, please, don’t be angry with me!”

“Pay no attention to the well-done nobles behind you, my ladies. We’ll just cook in our juices until you’re satisfied.”

A pink-laden head peeked from around Melridge. A pang of recognition hit.

“…Karpila? The guild receptionist?”

The head slipped back more quickly than it came out. Her stocking covered knees turned inward. “Alex,” she whispered, apparently underestimating his ability to hear four feet away, “you brought him home? I…I thought it was a joke! Having a man like this around is dangerous. What will Sir Rich-“

“Oh, will you shut up? And get out of the way!” Melridge didn’t wait for her command to be heeded, choosing instead to barge past the small woman.

Karpila looked shocked for a moment as she was shoved not all that violently to the side. Before Volsten knew it, however, she was in front of him, hand extended in greeting.

“Sir Volsten, we meet again! A pleasure.”

Volsten nodded. Karpila’s hand was still offered to him, and he didn’t know how else to make it clear that he couldn’t shake it. “If you’ll excuse me, Karpila, but my hands are currently filled with the thighs of a sleeping noble lady. You wouldn’t want her to fall off, now would you?”

Karpila’s beaming smile lessened, and as a consolation greeting, she curtsied. When she looked up again, the smile vanished. “Oh…she isn’t sleeping now.”

If Volsten didn’t know any better, he’d say that she looked afraid. “If you don’t mind, we’ll be going inside. Terribly hot, you see.”

Karpila obliged and went in first. Melridge stood further in with a scowl on her face, clearly bothered that he didn’t follow her like a good little dog. It was almost worth it to step back and spite her. Almost.

As they entered, he turned to Maren. “Are you able, my lady?”

“I think so,” she said. He released her legs, and she slid from his back. Immediately she took hold of his arm. The house was relatively cool, and he was thankful for that.

Melridge’s home was unlike other noble homes. Most that he visited had a foyer of some sorts, bereft of all but the barest trappings of a home. Further in, there would be separate rooms filled with the typical elegance of nobility.

This was the opposite. Upon entering, one was bombarded with a well furnished and lit room. A carpet ran from the door to a stairway that led up and deeper. To its side was a place that looked marvelously cozy, with padded chairs and a couch surrounding a homely wooden table.

A man sat on the couch, and its orientation meant that his back was to them. All one could see was the shine of his dark brown hair, cut to go no further than the middle of his neck.

Someone squealed. Awfully girly as it was, his head snapped to Karpila. Her head turned from his gaze at such speed as to cause her long ponytail to swish like a horse’s tail. Bloody girl must have been staring at him the whole time, but it was rather clear that she hadn’t made the noise. Neither did Maren, who made no sound unless he addressed her.

Melridge ran over to the sitting man, just now turning around, and wrapped herself around him with a great hug. “Daddy!”

Volsten blinked several times. The direction of the squeal made it obvious, but…it was rather hard to believe.

“Oh, my angel!” Sir Richard said. “I knew you would come home early, but as to be here already? A welcome surprise!” He noticed the three of them, and smiled as he stood, still with Melridge draped around his neck. “And you’ve brought friends! How wonderful!”

Volsten took him in. He was a surprisingly thin fellow, reputation aside. Not to the point of sickliness, but a far cry from the massive man that Arel proved to be. Then again, Volsten himself was quite the large man. His perception of size may have been skewed, and stories always made men out to be larger than they were.

He and his daughter were nearly the same height when she stood straight. That was not a knock to him; Melridge’s height, like many other things about her, was offensive.

“No,” she said, crossing her arms. “A friend, who was already here, a guest, and a prisoner.”

“An honor to meet you, Sir Richard,” Volsten said. “First Sir Arel and now you. If I was a boy-“

Melridge was around the couch and in his face in a moment. “What did I say, Bandages?”

Volsten narrowed his eyes but decided against further provocation. This was her house, after all. But by the goddess did he want to put his fist in her mouth.

“Now, now, sweetie,” Sir Richard said, taking his fuming daughter by the shoulders, “that’s no way to treat a guest. Especially a man with a noble look about him.”

If sweat was a noble’s look, Volsten had no knowledge of it.

Melridge pouted. Truly an unsettling sight. “But Daddy! He’s a prisoner, not a guest! Arel himself tasked me with guarding him. It’s of utmost importance to the guild!”

“Strange. I don’t recall the guild handing off sentenced criminals to knights. Shouldn’t he be under the tower?”

“Well, he hasn’t been sentenced or proven to be a criminal yet,” Karpila said. “There’s a bit of a strange thing going on that he’s connected with, but not proven to be the cause of. Alex is meant to both protect and imprison him.”

Melridge stared daggers at her small friend, but Karpila seemed unbothered.

“Ah, I see. Thank you, Lady Dalamoore.” Sir Richard turned his gentle gaze to him. “Your name, sir?”

He gave a triumphant glance at Melridge before answering. “Sir Volsten, Knight of Camara.”

Sir Richard’s half-closed eyes widened. “Oh, you’re also a knight? That’s exciting news. My daughter seemed disinterested in her peers.”

“You two have spoken enough!” Melridge slipped from under her father’s hands. “You! Come on. You’re staying in the basement. I’ll show you there.”

Sir Richard shook his head. “Let us speak for a moment, Alex; there’s plenty of time for him to be shown to his quarters.”

Melridge groaned loud enough for it to be called a scream. “You fucking-if you say anything out of line to my father, then Arel be damned! I’ll kill you!”

“Language, Alex!” Sir Richard said, appalled.

Melridge’s face softened. “Sorry, Daddy. I’m ridding myself of this armor.”

She stormed off in the direction of the stairs.

“I must go help her,” Karpila said. She sounded nothing less than elated. After a curtsy, she scurried off in pursuit of her friend, frilly pink skirt bobbing as she did so.

Sir Richard watched the two women head up the stairs. Once they disappeared, he turned to the two left before him. His eyes lingered on Maren. “Who is the young lady attached to you, Sir Volsten? She looks familiar, almost as if…” he trailed off as he took a closer look at her. “Oh, you’re the youngest of the Biriths, aren’t you?” Pity overtook his face. “The other ladies like to bathe after they come home. Given the trip here, wouldn’t it be a relaxing time to join them?”

Volsten mustered all his faith and asked the saints to compel her towards yes. They heard not his prayers. The tightening grip on his arm was unmistakable.

“Very well,” Sir Richard said after a time, his countenance flipping back to pleasant. “To speak with you, Sir Volsten, I haven’t much to say, other than to express my excitement in you being here.”

Volsten slicked back moistened hair. “Excitement, Sir? I must admit that I’m quite puzzled as to why you would say that, given the circumstances we meet under.” Or any circumstances, really. Not many fathers would be pleased with their daughters bringing a stranger home as a guest.

“Strange as they may be,” he said, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder, “I’m a believer in fate, Sir Volsten. Does it matter how you and my daughter met if you’re together now?”

Volsten wondered what the absolute fuck Sir Richard was talking about. “With all due respect, Sir, I’m at a loss for your meaning.”

“Be kind to my daughter,” he said with a squeeze of Volsten’s shoulder. There was power in that voice. In fact, it was vaguely threatening.

“What she is owed, I will give her.” Volsten said the words with all the kindness he could bear to bring when thinking of Melridge.

Sir Richard chuckled, but seemed satisfied enough to turn away. “I wish I didn’t have to do this, but my daughter is the lady of the manor, and she has decreed the basement your quarters. I don’t think the same holds true for Lady Maren, but I get the feeling that she wants to join you there as well. Would you go now? You may sit with me, if you like.”

“May as well get this over with,” Volsten said. “We’ll go, though a bath is in order given our current state.”

“Of course. I’ll call for a maid.” Sir Richard rang a tiny bell situated on the table. A moment later a Tenraki woman in the black and white of maidery arrived. “Show these two to the basement’s lower room, would you?”

The woman bowed and hurried over to them, where she bowed yet again, though not without getting a decent look at Volsten. “Right this way,” she said, without a hint of accent.

They headed to a door to the left of the stairs, but before they could enter, Sir Richard spoke. “Oh, will you join us for tea later, Sir Volsten? It’s quite a good, relaxing time.”

“Perhaps,” he said. It was a half answer; his mind was preoccupied with how strange Richard the Gallant turned out to be.