“Let me look at you boy.” His father said as he held him at arms length, Edward was surprised to see they were now on eye level, a rather disconcerting fact. “Evalyn come look at our son.” He called as the lady in the blue gown came to greet her son. She took Edward’s face in her hands and kissed his cheek, her eyes looking over his scarred face with true sadness hiding in their blue depths.

“You’ve been hurt.” She said, as she took in the scars on his cheeks and the sling that bound his arm to his chest.

“Just a few bumps and scrapes Mother.” Edward answered evasively. He fidgeted under his parents’s stare, no matter how experienced or old he got, they had the same effect on him. The younger knight with the party finally approached. He was of a height with Edward but broader in the shoulders, and his face was unscarred. He grinned at his younger brother once he closed the distance and threw his arms around him. Richard pounded Edward’s back with a closed fist.

“I’ve been hearing all about your accomplishments little brother.” He told Edward with extreme earnestness. Edward smiled in return.

“That’s Sir little brother to you.” He answered, receiving a laugh for his efforts. Edward glanced at the high table and received a significant look from von Rabsburg. “We’ve interrupted the meal enough, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk soon, I have a room at the Four Ponies.” He said with a short bow at the waist. Duke Eric offered his grandson an approving nod.

“The boy is right, apologies for my family’s exuberance, your grace.” The old man said with a rueful upturn of his mouth. “We have not seen Edward in several years I’m sure you understand.” The Grand Duke von Rabsburg merely nodded.

“Of course your grace.” He responded as Edward returned to his own table, amidst the demands of his friends to know what was happening and if he could introduce them to his father.

The fire crackled in the stone fireplace, and while the chimney funnelled most of the smoke out through the roof, the not unpleasant scent of wood smoke filled the room. Complemented by the smell of crushed pine needles that Edward favoured, it let an air of homeyness into the inn. Edward sat now in a large armchair before the fire, looking around at the circle of faces that his family brought to the room. Duke Eric, his Grandfather, dominated the room in the only other available armchair, his form wrapped in an ermine gown. Sir Richard, both junior and senior, Lady Evalyn and Sir Clement found seats around the room as best they could. Sir Richard Chandos had also been invited to the meeting as Clem’s trusted lieutenant and an Arturian knight.

Duke Eric met each of their eyes, before he spoke, flexing one liver spotted hand over the flames as he sought to draw the warmth into himself.

“It’s grim news from home I’m afraid, my brother is very ill.” The old man began. “His condition worsens by the day and every doctor within a thousand miles of the capital has been brought in and none have been able to fight the illness.” It was clear to Edward that the news was hard for his grandfather to relay. The King was only Eric’s half-brother and the only legitimate son of their father, but even so they had been close all their lives, Edward knew in fact that they had fought side by side for decades. “I don’t know how, but as news of this sort is likely to do, it got out and the Kingdom is preparing for his death, the lord’s have begun positioning themselves, and without a legitimate heir I’m afraid we could be staring down the road at the beginning of a civil war.” there was a sharp intake of breath from those gathered in the room. Edward’s father rose from his stool and approached the fire, turning to face the gathered group.

“I owe King Brian everything,” He told them. “He raised me up to the nobility, he introduced me to your grace, and in doing so led me to the love of my life.” He looked with adoring eyes at his wife, whose cheeks bloomed with a rosey blush. “I’ve come seeking knights who hold their oaths to Arturia to be iron, the king will need all the support he can muster in the coming months, to name his heir and to put down any stirring ambition amongst the high nobility.” Sir Clement nodded in understanding, looking to Duke Eric.

“You’re formally requesting my knight service father?” He asked, sharing a glance with Chandos. Duke Eric nodded to his son.

“Yes Clem, as my Comte d’Arlay, I request your full knight-service, to be presented at Bordeaux in three months.” The old man rose and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be honest with you all, I may be worried for nothing, my brother may name a successor and the nobles may subside, but I didn’t survive as a bastard in my father’s court by being reckless.” He turned to face Edward next. “Sir Edward, as your lands are in the Empire I’m afraid I have no ability to call on your service, but I would request it, perhaps I can find you a parcel near Bordeaux as repayment?” Edward rose immediately and knelt to his Grandfather.

“Grandfather, I require no payment, my lands are sufficient, and the King is my uncle after all, I will gladly serve my kingdom and family.” Eric nodded in gratitude.

“And you Sir Chandos, my son speaks highly of you, will you be joining the effort?” Sir Richard Chandos bowed at the waist.

“Your Grace, where your son goes I go, he’s my Captain and I’m sworn to his service.” There seemed to be universal agreement. Duke Eric nodded, and after a few words on the necessary supplies for the journey a plan was laid out for their departure within the week. Messages were sent with Sir Chandos to Sir Felix requesting a leave of absence for them all, and most filed out of the room, leaving only Edward with his Grandfather, father, mother and uncle.

“You’ve done very well for yourself out here Edward, I’m impressed.” Sir Richard said to his son. “I knew you had it in you, but to be proven right so emphatically is one of the proudest accomplishments of my life.” The one-eyed knight smiled broadly at the gathered group, “Thank you Sir Clement, I know you were perhaps a little hesitant to take on a squire from the family, but I am glad you did.” Clem grinned winningly at his brother-in-law.

“It was nothing Richard, he’s been a great help in the last few years, and he impressed me also with his dedication,” He looked approvingly at the blushing Edward, “I was worried being knighted so early would go to his head, but it seemed to give him an even greater thirst to prove himself, the tiltyard has become almost an obsession for the boy. When we aren’t out on patrol or in garrison in a border fort, he spends most waking moments in training, compared to when he was knighted he’s now bordering on mastery of the sword and lance, and his poleaxe work is improving with every day, he’s definitely your son.” The words hit Edward like a poleaxe. The praise seemed so great that his eyes dropped to the floor and he tried to say something about being unworthy but instead just a low mumble left his lips. “He’s still not great at accepting praise however.” Clem said with a playful elbow to the ribs.

Lady Evalyn rose and approached her brother, her eyes alight with a storm of barely restrained fury. “And I suppose the scars he now bears and the arm he has bound to his chest show such mastery?” She asked in a deadly hiss, and Clement gulped, throwing a wide eyed stare at his former squire. Edward jumped to his feet immediately.

“Mother, I’m fine, it’s just a bruise from falling off my horse, that’s all and scars come with the job.” He rushed to reassure her, holding up his good hand in a placating gesture. Her eyes softened as he touched her arm, wrapping her son in a velvet embrace. She looked up and met her brother’s eyes.

“I guess I should be thankful you kept him alive at least.” The words though sharp, were softened by a rueful smile that turned up the corners of her lips. Clem grinned and walked over to kiss his sister’s hand.

“Just remember that next time you see him wounded.” the knight said as he returned to his seat. Edward rolled his eyes as he returned to his own chair, sitting back down with a sigh of relief. His back ached furiously, his fall had been a hard one. Not for the first time his thoughts wandered to his squire and if he would recover in the Temple’s care. Duke Eric looked on his family with a contented smile.

“Edward, there is more we would ask of you.” The old man began, all eyes moving to him. “You are a lord in your own right now, which makes you, I’m sorry to say, a valuable bargaining chip for the family.” Edward raised a brow, mimicking unconsciously the gesture he had seen his Grandfather use when he was a boy, this can’t be good, he thought. “The Royal Steward, Jehannes de Hargrave, has a daughter in need of a husband, I’d like to arrange for her to marry you,” the words deadened the room, only the occasional crackle and pop from the fireplace echoing in the still air.

“De Hargrave is a good man and a powerful ally in the court, he also commands the loyalty and respect of my brother’s garrison, I mean to bind him to the family.” Eric rose from his seat with a groan and shuffled to stand closer to the fire. “I am aware this news may not be the most welcome you’ve heard, but you will do as I say, won’t you boy?” Edward gulped, as he once more pushed himself up from his seat to kneel before his Grandfather.

“It may not be the future I’d have chosen for myself, but your will, my hands, your Grace.” He said, bowing his head. Sir Richard looked at his son with approval. Inside, however, Edward screamed, he raged and beat against the walls that trapped him. He was a knight and a lord, he held the right of justice and he carried judgement in his scabbard, and still he was beholden to the whims and orders of his grandfather, and still a part of him wondered if he could grab his horse and ride away, turning his back on it all.

There was another part of him though, that wondered why he was so angry. He’d known his whole life that his marriage would be arranged, at least the first time. He was a nobleman, and he was the king’s nephew, albeit slightly removed and definitely not in line to inherit anything, he was a bargaining chip in the game of political alliances that the true powers played. Edward looked up in time to see his grandfather gesturing to the door.

“Will you all please give me a moment with my Grandson, I think we need to talk in private.” The old duke informed them all in a tone that brooked no argument. Without a word the others filed out of the room, Clement gave Edward a quick squeeze of the shoulder before he walked past. Edward smiled slightly at the gesture, it was a comfort, even if only a small one.

“Get up Edward, I know you are not best pleased with me on this occasion, and I apologise.” Edward’s mouth gaped at the man. Duke Eric never apologised, even to a favoured grandson. “I apologise, but I can not take it back, I can promise you she’s a beautiful girl with a good head on her shoulders, I’m even fairly certain you will get along, you may not love her, but you won’t resent her, I think.” The old man chuckled gruffly as he was taken by memory.

“It is the same thing I told your father once upon a time, when I broached the idea of him marrying my daughter.” Edward raised his brow once more.

“You mean my father wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of marrying my mother?” he asked.

“He was still very new to the ways of court politics, I wanted to protect him and grant him some legitimacy in his place there, and Evalyn had already been watching him so I’m sure it was also part of the father in my trying to make his daughter happy.” He chuckled again, clearer this time. “I’d ask that you meet the girl before you decide that you hate this and her.” Eric’s voice became serious again. “Please trust that I always have my family’s best interests at heart.” Edward nodded. “Good, now let’s get to bed, we have a busy few days ahead.”

Edward’s dreams of a relaxing Yule and a quiet winter in Siegesstand were dashed by the arrival of his family. His time became monopolised by his need to see to their travel. Bohemund needed to be reshod, and the farriers were easy to find, their food was seen to by John who was now Sir Clement’s squire and proud of the fact, Edward grinned every time the boy ran by in his arming clothes, seeming to never take them off. Master Piotr saw to removing dents from Edward’s harness that had seemingly multiplied since he last saw it.

The hardest task he saw to, was visiting the Temple where devotees of the Nine Worthies oversaw the healing and comfort of wounded soldiers. There he sat by Murk’s bedside as the draught the healers gave him put him to sleep for the final time. The internal damage caused by the mace had been too great for their expertise and had taken their toll on the squire who had seemed so strong, that by the time the draught was administered, Murk had become a faded shrunken wreck of the boy he had been. His skin was pale and drawn as he begged forgiveness, for some perceived slight. Edward sat by his bed, held his hand and brushed his forehead gently as sleep overcame him. He sat with his friend and squire until his breathing ceased, and then he stayed until the sun rose and the priests came to take the body away.

It wasn’t that Edward was uncomfortable with death, he had long accepted that death was part of his job, in fact he had done much to deaden himself to the notion, perhaps it was why he sought out the temple whenever they were in Siegesstand, that slim hope of an afterlife, to reassure himself that perhaps he wasn’t a mindless butcher. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps. It was always a perhaps. So he approached the masons in the Fortress and commissioned a marble plinth to cover Murk’s grave, the epitaph read;

Ruprecht von Murkadt

Esquire, to Sir Edward de Marche

A knight in all but name, lays here for the Empire he loved so dear.

Cuthbert and Henry stood vigil with Sir Edward through the night after they buried Murk, and on his epitaph they swore to return to the war, as soon as possible.

Sir Felix arrived with a squadron of knights on the third day to deliver their papers personally, he said it was because they were some of his most trusted men, but Edward knew it was to try and convince them not to leave. Even after their recruitment, Edward knew that a hundred lances was a lot for Felix to lose in one hit. The Oberste offered them anything he could, ranging from several hundred ducats extra to land and titles that Edward knew he was not allowed to give. Clement rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he became more desperate.

“We’ll be gone a few months at most, I promise we’ll be back before the campaign season begins in earnest.” Felix had no response and sent them on their way.

By week’s end their column was drawn up in full order and the twin banners of Edward and Clement were raised alongside Duke Eric and the de Marche’s. Felix rode up and clasped forearms with them and bowed in his saddle to Duke Eric.

“I’ll look for your banners after the thaw, try not to be late, I have a feeling the Vallarese are about to heat things up for us, they haven’t been this bold since 1357, and I don’t want to waste the opportunity.” He said with a broad grin. Duke Eric smiled in return.

“If terms can be reached perhaps my son will lead back a portion of the Arturian army to assist you.” He gave a knowing wink and Sir Felix passed the man a scroll that was bound in silk and seemed to drip wax seals.

“Just don’t be late.” He said, making eye contact with Clem and Edward before turning his horse back towards the gates. Davide saluted as he rode past to follow Sir Felix. Duke Eric turned to Edward.

“Lead us to Schwarzberg first lad, I want to see the land you’ve earned, and then we shall head for Bordeaux, where we will meet up with you, Clem, make sure your host is ready.” The orders were hissed sotto voce, but still they carried weight. The column split in two, and soon Edward was alone with his twenty lances and his Grandfather and parents.