Áberd strolled with Lady Sigebehrt through the Héahfréols market, admiring her white lace parasol. She cleared her throat.

“Sir, I do hope your attention is on where we are going, rather than me.”

“My apologies, Lady Sigebehrt. I must ask, who made your parasol?”

Lady Sigebehrt sniffed, “If you’re going to stare, at least give me your arm and escort me properly.”

Áberd presented his arm and Lady Sigebehrt placed her gloved hand on his pale blue velvet jacket.

“Thank you, sir, my mother would be shocked and ashamed were she to hear of me walking through the city without an escort. She likes to let her imagination run wild and tells many a tall tale of all the terrible things that can befall an unaccompanied lady in the big city.”

“My pleasure, Lady Sigebehrt. I dread to think what our civilization would be without propriety.”

“For then we could have no impropriety as well, wouldn’t you agree?”

Áberd did his best to look offended at such a suggestion. A small smile peeked from beneath the parasol.

“I’m afraid I will be unable to provide the professional answer you seek,” said Lady Sigebehrt. I received this parasol as a leaving present from my mother, apparently to shelter me from the sun, but I think she was keener on providing a means for me to hide my face. I don’t know whom she commissioned to create the piece, but the reason she gave it to me has little importance as I can’t help but admire its elegance.”

“I only wish propriety allowed me to carry around an object of such graceful craftsmanship,” said Áberd.

“Then let me share it with you.” Lady Sigebehrt hoisted the parasol high above her head, casting a cool shadow over Áberd.

“It will not hide your face if you do that, Lady Sigebehrt.”

“Do I need to hide my face from you, sir?”

“I like to think not.”

“Then stop being such a fuss pot and show me this quaint flower shop you’ve been raving about all week.”

“Of course, my lady.” Despite the urgent nature of their errand, Áberd was enjoying himself.

I do love how Lady Sigebehert strives to maintain an image she thinks so little of. Seeing the ideas bubbling behind her facade is quite refreshing.

“Hewelin Guntard visited our cubby hole again this morning,” said Lady Sigebehrt. “I’d hoped that when Duke Mánfeld left in a huff he would take his Drýmann with him, but he keeps slinking around, obstructing the palace staff with awkward questions. Earl Rhodomel told me the Drýmann received five lengthy letters from his patron last week alone. Whatever do you think they hope to achieve?”

Áberd stopped mid-pace and, following his nose, backtracked towards a small red and white bannered stall. He felt Lady Sigebehrt’s hand tighten on his arm as she tried to avoid being swept away by the tide of people flowing through the street.

“Is he bothering you?” said Áberd.

“Nothing so direct, the man’s a coward. He never says anything without meaning something else whilst trying to pretend he doesn’t. My mother would say: ‘a man should carry out his intentions and be brief about it, not wallow and linger like a self-plumped hog.’”

Áberd coughed, “I’m not sure that was meant to apply to conversations.”

The over enthusiastic calls of confident merchants covered his muttered reply.

The stall he’d spotted was filled with elegantly shaped bread and decorated pastries, “May I tempt you with a small token of appreciation for your hard work, Lady Sigebehrt?”

“I’ve always wanted to eat street food with my fingers,” she said. “I’ve passed so many sights and smells from the cloistered comforts of my father’s carriage, yet the shock on my mother’s face the first time I suggested enjoying a common delicacy was so terrifying I never dared ask again. I’ll have a honey glazed cinnamon roll please.”

She smiled at the vendor, a beaming middle aged man with a square, knotted, white cloth tied around his head and a silver ponytail.

“And I’ll have the apricot stuffed pastry swirl and three pink iced fondant fancies.”

“Four cakes, sir?”

“If the King discovers I visited the market today and didn’t buy him something, I’ll have to get the ladder out again to retrieve the throwing knife he lobs into the top of his four poster bed when he’s annoyed.”

Lady Sigebehrt laughed, it was enchanting, until she snorted. She blushed. The vendor was looking wide eyed as he pretended he wasn’t listening to their conversation.

“One stycas please, sir,” he said.

Áberd reached into his jacket and pulled out a bronze coin. Lady Sigebehrt looked over his shoulder.

“It’s not a very good likeness,” she said.

“You can’t sneak out of the palace if everyone knows what you look like,” said Áberd.

“You’re kidding, right?” said the Vendor.

“Oh, I’m always serious,” said Áberd. “The King was notorious for it thirty years ago. Loved to sneak out with the Queen and visit drunkards’ dives or watch riotous street performances.”

“But the sceattas, they look just like the Queen. I’ve seen the paintings. How did they get away with it?” said Lady Sigebehrt.

“I thought he never left the palace,” said the Vendor.

“No, he doesn’t,” said Áberd. “And that would be telling. At the risk of attracting the wrath of your wise mother, my lady, I believe every man is entitled to a few secrets.”

The vendor nodded at this “But you do know, right?”

“It was before my time,” said Áberd. “But I’ve heard a few stories.”

The vendor, holding his apron close with one hand, leaned forward, “Surely you can tell us.”

“I think I’ll have one of those loaves and a small cheese too,” said Áberd. “I don’t think we’ll be back in time for lunch.”

“Right you are, sir,” said the vendor. Áberd had never seen anyone look so disappointed at being asked to sell more of their goods, “That’ll be four tavits.”

Áberd handed over four copper coins.

“You know,” said the vendor. “There’s some nasty rumours going about how the King can’t protect us from all the trouble that’s been stirred up, blame’s being bandied about on who is responsible, most of it down to this biased competition.”

“Go on,” said Áberd.

“That’s it,” said the vendor, turning as pink as his cakes.

“Are there any names for who can save us all?” said Lady Sigebehrt.

“No, they’re remarkably quiet on that front,” said the vendor.

“Ah, They, about as useful a concept as The People, I wonder who They are this time,” said Áberd. “Thank you for the food. It has given me plenty to chew on. As for the competition. It really is open to anyone.”

“That seems unusually naive of you,” said Lady Sigebehrt. “As I am sure our earnest friend here means; is it not restricted to those who can afford to travel the country or have been trained to perform heroic deeds?”

Áberd munched on his apricot pastry, “Sometimes I think established procedure is wrong. Pudding should always be first.”

Lady Sigebehrt removed her gloves, tucked them into her black wool sash, and accepted the pastry from the Vendor, “You’re wallowing, sir.”

“Heavens forbid I should force my wallowings on you,” said Áberd. “I do not think so. If you have the skill, ambition, ruthlessness, intelligence, and an unhealthy dose of luck, anyone can be King. That has always been the case and it always will be. The difference this time is that the man in charge admitted it.”

The vendor laughed, “I’d never thought of it that way.”

Áberd gave a little bow and dusted off his hands on a purple handkerchief, “Shall we proceed, Lady Sigebehrt? There is the most wonderful bench at the flower shop. I’m sure if we ask nicely we can eat the rest of our lunch there.”

“You mean order enough flowers to fill the whole palace.”

“I think the big city is turning you into a cynic, my lady.”

“No Áberd, I’m afraid that you are the one who has to take responsibility for that.”

I am glad I could renew the faith of a single man. Perhaps our short exchange will be talked about, but there is only so much I can do against the rising onslaught of malicious rumours. A few are fine, but the rising frequency is terrible.

Three days ago Sir Wylde had asked him to pass on three separate reports of arson in Cynehláfordes Port and news of two merchants, murdered along the Hrycgweg, only a few miles from Témúða.

Although shocking, such things do happen, but combined with raided farmsteads, the displayed heads of fantastical beasts, and the appearance of amputated beggars on the streets, an almost unheard of occurrence in the capital, I can only conclude we are in for a terrible time.

I could breach the subject with the King, but he’s been grouchy all week because of a toothache. Well until he cursed three different Gods in one breath and popped his own tooth out with a silver soup spoon in front of the Dúnlic ambassador.

It is good the King’s barbarous feat went down well with the foreign guest, but it doesn’t help me broach the nebulous subject of worrying words to our great and terrible molar spewing monarch.

“This roll is delicious,” said Lady Sigebehrt. “It really is cinnamon too.” She gave Áberd a defiant look, then licked her fingers.

“I’m glad it met your expectations. Perhaps we could ask him to supply a few for the Ball.”

“Is it wise to slight the palace chefs?”

“Thankfully, the current team does not consist of a platter of pride-riddled blancmanges,” said Áberd.

“Except for the pastry chef.”

“He’s alright once you get to know him,” said Áberd.

“Do you ever say a bad word about anyone?”

“Say it? Absolutely not.”

“And that still fools people?” said Lady Sigebehrt.

“Only when I want it too, besides, I enjoy a little showmanship. My words, clothes, and demeanour are like a well constructed suit of social armour that requires daily polishing. The pastry chef really is a nice person.”

“He is a sexist toad. He believes women are incapable of making a decent hot water crust pastry and should not be allowed in the kitchen.”

“An undeniably unique viewpoint,” said Áberd.

“Last time I tried to enter the kitchens he chased me out with a half-empty flour sack and turned the room into a blizzard.”

“I can see how that may have caused you some distress.”

“I had to wait three hours looking like a ghost before they’d send up water for a bath.”

“A great trial indeed.”

“More than I care to recall.”

“I think you missed a great opportunity to haunt the palace though,” said Áberd.

“An ill conceived suggestion, sir. I am not rich enough to be raucous. I have no desire to be labelled as a nuisance.”

“You are quite the opposite, my lady. I would not be able to organise the Ball without you.”

Lady Sigebehrt smiled, “You could and you know it, your shameless flattery will not serve you indefinitely.”

“No,” said Áberd as they arrived at the florists. “But it is going to get us a discount.”