“Sister...” Falki warned, and the Duchess frowned with irritation.

“A moment, Falki.” She growled, fretting with the tiara. Her maidservants had been driven to find an outfit that was just perfect and she had changed several times before settling on the high-necked but snug dress that left her shoulders bare and had a short but impressive lace train. She picked up a filmy matching lace shawl and draped it across her shoulders and nodded to herself. He would be suitably impressed.

“You did hear what he said to me, correct?” Falki called, and she nodded a little, eliciting a sigh of frustration from her maidservant, who was winding her braids around the back of her head and securing them with long silver pins.

“Yes, brother, and I agree, this is grim news indeed.” she replied, pitching her voice to be heard in the room where he waited with increasing irritation.

She stepped out into her drawing room, where Falki was at his customary place at one of the side tables, restlessly picking things up and putting them down again. She smiled a little. He always did such things when stressed.

“Let’s go, dear brother.” She announced, and he whirled, startled. He eyed her from toes to face.

“Changing clothes, sister? You...” He trailed off, and then sighed with frustration. “You intend to stuff yourself into that bear’s jaws, don’t you?” He demanded angrily, but she merely raised a cool eyebrow at him.

“Your responsibilities to the Duchy, to the household take precedence over your desires, sister.” Falki warned.

“I know, Brother.” She replied, and glided out the door of her drawing room and nearly walked right into two guards arguing with a winged elf. She drew up, startled.

“Duchess. It is well met to see you in good health.” The winged elf nearly shouted. Elenora had only met a few winged elves in her lifetime. They lived on a mountaintop, in a compound they called “The Eyrie” and preferred to be left alone. They had, however, sworn to help defend the castle should it be attacked.

“You came for the alarm?” She inquired, thinking quickly, and the man nodded. “We feared the worst, most especially with the Hymir on the west veranda. We feared that the castle had been overrun.”

“The Hymir?” She asked, hesitantly.

“You call them giants, My Lady.” The man replied. “The terrible monsters of the Northern Avalanche.”

She blinked a few times, and then remembered Daveth was supposed to be waiting for her on the west veranda.

“You didn’t... you didn’t kill him, did you?” She asked. “He is under the employ of the White House.” The man shook his head in confused wonder. “He was under careful watch when I left to find you, My Lady.”

“How fortunate. I was just about to begin my appointment with him.” She replied coolly. “You may accompany me.” She commanded with a gesture and the elf bowed a little, a wry twist to his mouth.

*****

“You will not move from that spot.” The female winged elf warned Daveth, who shrugged.

“Okay.” He replied. “To make my position clear, I’m a commander in the Seventh Seal, an army invited by the Duchess. I’m here to meet with her and make my report.” Daveth offered by way of explanation. The girl just glared at him harder.

Daveth had to figure out a way to defuse the situation, as volatile as it was. He was out of his league, in the territory of nobles and royalty, and while he was certain his stunt downstairs hadn’t won him any favors, the least he could do is try and talk to the elven woman down to a level where she at the very least, wouldn’t brain him at the soonest opportunity.

His eyes fixed on her mace.

“Your kind know the secrets of working with steel, don’t you?” Daveth asked curiously. He spoke softly, trying not to startle her any more than he already had.

The elven girl eyed Daveth warily. She’d been doing that since he’d spooked her, after all.

“Your kind have known the secrets of steel for some time now, Lord Commander Daveth.” She replied quietly. “I’m not sure what it is you expect from me that you cannot get from human blacksmiths.”

Daveth snorted a little. “Unfortunately, the blacksmiths from Nauders are only familiar with bronze and ironsmithing.” He eyed her as he said this, and nodded to himself as he judged her reaction. The Nauders natives had struck a bargain with the winged elves of the Eyrie, and they had a peaceful relationship... but the elves had not shared the secrets of steel-smithing with their human counterparts. Nor did they intend to, it seemed. But an idea began to blossom in his mind.

“I’d like to place an order for a very specific request.” Daveth added with a smile. “And to ease your conscience, it’s not for weapons or armor, either.”

She frowned. “What is it?”

Daveth grinned boyishly. “Tableware. I want a knife, a fork, and a spoon for personal use.” He announced, and her shock and confusion were so comical he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You’re quite mad, aren’t you?” She asked amzedly. “Steel tableware? Nobody in their right mind would want tableware made from steel.”

He shrugged. “I’m asking. I even have some steel I can provide.” He rummaged around in his knapsack and pulled out an ingot and proffered it to her. When she refused to take it from his hand, he set it on the table and gave it a little push with his fingertips to slide it nearer to her.

She glanced down at it briefly, and then, ever-watchful, back to his face. She reached down and touched the ingot lightly with her fingertips. “You understand that with this much steel, we could likely make ... many sets of tableware?” She asked hesitantly.

“In that case, make me two.” He replied with a chuckle. “But don’t skimp on it. I don’t want some raw hammered lump of metal, I want to proudly hold up my fork and say “this is my fork, crafted for me by the finest elven steelsmiths”.”

She blinked slowly at this declaration, and tucked the slim ingot into a pouch at her waist without taking her eyes off of him.

*****

The Duchess stepped out onto the balcony, eyes first on the elven woman, and then to the giant taking his ease at one of the stone tables. The other two winged elves joined the woman.

"This is Commander Daveth." The Duchess vouchsafed for him. "He's under my employ. He might lack a certain degree of... refinement, but he will not harm me." She announced.

The trio of elves eyed each other, and the elven woman touched the pouch at her hip where she stashed the ingot he'd given her.

“It will be as you say, Lord Commander Daveth, though you are quite mad for asking for such a thing.” She finally said, and launched herself into the air, huge wings beating slowly.

*****

The Duchess stepped further out onto the balcony, eyes following the retreating figure of the elf.

“Was that Eirina?” She asked curiously. “The winged elves of the Eyrie do not often come down here. Tell me, what did you two speak about?” She asked, gazing up at him.

Daveth smiled at her mysteriously. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details, but it ended with her calling me a madman.”

“So she did. For what reason?” She asked curiously.

Daveth chuckled. “I said some insane things, of course.” He replied simply.

The two winged elves that were with her glanced at each other, and bowed before the Duchess. “With your leave, my lady.” They murmured, and she nodded. They launched themselves into the air and flew after the female.

“Die zeit steht still und es wird Herbst; der Herbstwind hält.” The Duchess began, settling herself in front of him, hands clasped together at her waist.

“Hmm?”

“It means, “Time stands still and it becomes autumn; The autumn wind holds”, my lord.” she said, smiling. “A line from one of our legends.”

‘It sounds melancholic, somehow.” He said carefully. The girl nodded.

“I imagine it would, to you. It’s easy to make that connection. For the Edelweiss, the White Nobles, Autumn is a time for reflection and contemplation. It can be ... melancholic, at times.” There was a pause as the wind blew some stray leaves across the massive veranda, empty of furniture except the single table and the two people.

“You bring grim tidings, Lord Commander.” The Duchess began, facing him squarely. Daveth nodded, and pulled out a carved smoking pipe.

“I have my suspicions... and I think that there’s going to be blood before the winter.” He said finally.

She glanced to the side. “I would hear your reasoning, Lord Commander.” She said quietly, moving to the edge of the veranda as Daveth struck a lucifer and carefully lit his pipe.

“A mage grabs a handful of people and magically brainwashes them into starting riots. Shouting nonsense in the streets. Setting fires. That’s what we do know.” He puffed on his pipe a moment. “What we don’t know is what else they’ve done. Are they behind the bandit attacks? Have they planted magical commands into the minds of normal peasants, normal peasants that love and support the House of Edelweiss? Magical commands so sinister that they have no idea what threat they themselves carry?” He sighed heavily and placed his massive hands on the balustrade. “Each one unaware that they’ve been drafted as expendable soldiers in a war of noble rivalry.”

“That is...” She trailed off. “That is ghastly. Ghastly and unwarranted, Lord Commander. We cannot instigate Witch Hunts under such suspicions.”

“It may be necessary.” Daveth replied stubbornly.

“Have you heard the tale of the Zauberjackal?” She asked, glancing up at him curiously.

He shook his head.

“There was a man that was accused of witchcraft and sorceries infernal. No one knew who he was, but they all believed that he could turn into smoke and disappear, that he could bespell the rats and bring terrible plagues and unnatural vapors upon the people. That he had a magical coat with many frightful powers.”

She sighed. “One hundred and fifteen men, two hundred and eighty women, and forty children were burned alive, Lord Commander, and nobody that was caught confessed to being the feared criminal. Each story of his powers became more frightful, more terrifying. He could kill with a look, curse with a simple gesture. He conspired with demons and stole the dreams of the righteous.”

“Stories like this are in every land, Duchess.” Daveth replied.

She shook her head. “It happened ten years ago, Lord Commander. I saw the pyres from my bedroom as a child. My mother, the Lady Sybella had no choice but to let the fear run its course and she taught me- she taught us all what can happen if fear is left unchecked. No witch hunts.” She vetoed strongly.

Daveth nodded. “I agree. But I will not be happy if I face farmers and farriers on the battlefield.” He sighed. “And without cannon.”

“Cannon?” She asked, startled. She blinked a few times. Daveth nodded. “We’ve heard things. There’s going to be a frightful battle. It’s going to be a great bloody mess and we don’t have the cannon to reduce the losses.”

“Might I loan you one?” She asked curiously. His head whipped around, and she smiled at the shock and surprise there.

“You have cannon?” He asked, and she shook her head. “We have one. Also an amount of ball and case shot as well.” She paused for a moment.

“During the Great War, Angland sent out dispatches of many things. Food and medicines, blankets and clerics and most importantly, weapons. We received several of these dispatches, Lord Commander. if you feel it necessary to your efforts that you have use of them... we could provide them to you on a provisional basis.”

Daveth cocked an eyebrow. “You said several dispatches, but mentioned only one cannon. What was the rest?” He asked. She smiled up at him enigmatically. “If you can put it together, you will be welcome to use it, Lord Commander. Come this way. I will show you.”

*****

Daveth eyed the long, low ramp leading down into the gloom of the castle’s underbelly doubtfully.

“Duchess...” He started, and then stopped. “No.”

She glanced up at him, and then frowned. “No?” She repeated doubtfully. “I don’t understand.”

He shook his head, and she tightened her fingers on his hand. How had her tiny hand found its way into his? he wondered.

“That’s no place for a dress like that.” He replied, eyeing her critically. She colored a little, hoping it wasn’t visible in the low light.

“I hardly care about whether or not my dress will get dirty, Lord Commander.” She said, and took a step forward to settle the argument.

“I care. I’ll probably get cursed at if I allow the Duchess of Nauders to get dirty.” He muttered, and then added something in a language she wasn’t familiar with. He sighed testily, and scooped her up in one deft move.

She let out a yelp of shock. “What?! No! Put me down you brute!” She yelled.

“Comport yourself with dignity, Your Highness.” Daveth replied with a sarcastic grin.

“How can I?!” She retorted hotly as they began to descend. “Let me down. It’s not as if I haven’t tread this path before.”

“In this dress?” He asked. She shook her head, and he laughed.

“Relax. I’m just going to carry you. Hold our torch aloft for us to light the way.” He replied.

“You’re an uncouth, incorrigible brute.” She scolded.

He shrugged. “Okay.” He replied, unconcerned.

They continued down the ramp in silence, punctuated by a few brief conversations.

“Don’t drop me, Lord Commander.” She muttered in a tiny voice.

“Never, My Lady.” He replied casually, eyes probing the darkness.

They continued for some time. “Several doors ahead of us.” He mentioned, and glanced around. “I’ll have to put you down for a moment. Hold up your skirts, there’s dirt everywhere.” He admonished, and she glared up at him.

He gently set her on her feet, and gripped the skirts of her dress and raised it dutifully so that it didn’t track in the dirt.

“Ugh. Your train is going to get dirty no matter what you do.” He muttered angrily, and took the torch from her and held it aloft.

“Which one, Your Highness?” He asked curiously. She considered the doors.

“The far door on the right.” She decided.

“Very well.” He replied, and scooped her up again. She squawked in outrage again, and he chuckled.

“You are too arrogant by half, Lord Commander.” She accused. “You should know your place.”

“I do know my place.” He replied casually. “If you want me to treat you like a Duchess, maybe you shouldn’t call me “Lord Commander”.

She smiled a little. “How should I address you, then?” She asked softly.

“I have a name.” He said, and she raised her pale eyebrows.

“Names are sacred, and full of power.” she said softly. “We don’t address someone so casually, you know. To address you by name... It’s unthinkable.” She glanced up at him to read his expression. He smiled a little, eyebrow raising. “Then I guess you’ve got no recourse but to put up with my arrogance.” He replied simply. He set off at a brisk pace, causing the torches’ light to waver.

“Daveth.” She said in a near whisper.

“Yes, Elenora?” He replied straightaway.

“I’m not too heavy for you, am I?” She asked in an equally quiet voice.

He rumbled laughter. “I’ve worn armor heavier than you, Duchess.” He replied offhand. His eyes suddenly widened.

“That’s a cannon.” He observed. “I’m going to set you down now.”

She nodded, and he lowered her to her feet.

He circled the metal demon, using the torch for illumination. “Most cannon are recasts, or constructed from what people have seen in old books and preserved manuscripts and blueprints.” he explained as he peered into the bore. “This doesn’t mean they’re worthless, but it’s easy to damage them. The barrel can warp or develop cracks or flaws because of imperfections. This cannon was made by a master at the peak of their craft, and then packed in preservative greases and spells and you’ve kept it here, unmolested in the dark for the past three centuries.” He suddenly let out a short burst of hungry laughter and she took a step back. “I can’t wait to try it out.” He said with a predatory grin.

“You said there was something else?” He asked, and turned to her. She nodded, and gestured to a row of heavy crates stamped with the device of the Golden Lady, a shield with two crossed swords behind. A stylized lily was emblazoned in the shield. She held his hand, tiny fingers gripping his, dark eyes on his face, searching for his expression as he opened the crates. The thing they’d received from the Anglish Empire three hundred or so years ago had been packed carefully in preservative grease and protective charms. Those that knew its proper assembly and use were long dead, victims of an ambush that the Nauders Duchy had not been made aware of until too late.

“Do you know what this is?” She asked him quietly. He nodded a little. “Sort of. I’m a fighter, after all. It’s my business to know weapons. This design, though. This complexity.” He gestured with his free hand. “It’s beyond me. I’d like to have Aldric take a look at it. He’s more versed in firearms than me.”

“Can you use it?” She asked curiously. He glanced down at her. “I hope so. Something like this would be a great equalizer.”

She looked up at him and nodded. “Very well, if you can use them... if you need them, you may have access to them with the provision that you endeavor to return them in good working condition.”

He nodded. “We’ll try, Duchess.”

She smiled at him. “Are you going to carry me out of here?” She asked, and he grinned.

*****

Aldric snorted when he saw what was in the crates. “I’ve got no fucking clue whatall this is.” He said, glancing up at Daveth. “I’ll message one of my friends in Darnell, though. We’ll know what it is and how to use it when the time comes.” He snorted. “I don’t know how you convinced the Duchess to let us use these, Commander, but I’m sure you can understand how much of an advantage this gives us.”

Daveth nodded. “I know, Aldric. A two-pound gun with cartridge ammo and a... I dunno what it is. Some variation of the arquebus wagon?” He shrugged. “If there’s an engagement, this fight will be heavily favored on our side.”

"So how'd you get her to give up this hardware?" Aldric asked, scrutinizing Daveth carefully.

Daveth shrugged. "I gave her a pinch and tickled her under chin. She giggled and handed them over." He replied and Aldric immediately frowned, brows drawing together.

He pointed at a crate. “Have a sit-down, Commander. I think we need to have ourselves a talk.”

Daveth gave him a puzzled look, but seated himself carefully.

“I don’t mind if you fraternize with the rank and file as long as you’re discreet. I didn’t have any issue with you and Aurene, and I don’t think I have to tell you the importance of treating the men, women, and elves under you fairly.” Daveth nodded. “What’s this about, Aldric?” Daveth asked.

Aldric shook his head. “What I can’t approve is fraternizing with the clientele.” He stepped away, turning and pulling out his tobacco pipe and pouch. Taking his cue, Daveth did the same.

“The Duchess is young and naive. She’s probably got a crush on you because you’re unknown, foreign, and exotic.” He gave Daveth a wry look. “It probably also helps that you’re seven feet tall.”

“Wait, Aldric, you think I’m sleeping with her?” Daveth asked, confused. Aldric shook his head. “No, I’m saying that I think she’s got a little crush on you. In a way, it’s cute... and in this instance it worked out for the Seal, since we now have a cannon and... whatever this is...” He said, gesturing to the stack of crates, “I’m going to need you to put some distance between yourself and her. It’s inappropriate and uncouth. Let’s keep our dealings with the royalty of Nauders strictly business.”

Daveth took a breath. “All right. I see where you’re coming from. I’ll assign myself to the outer patrols for the time being.”

Aldric nodded.