Libramentum

Chapter Five

Ilsmera allowed Eleanor to sulk for a few days. She had few visitors aside from servants and her cousin, who had fortunately been within the castle walls when the city had been attacked. From what she gathered from Taliyah, most people only had a small notion of what had happened. They were aware their attackers were not human, but none other than the city guard, a few survivors, and the knights had seen the creatures that Ilsmera had dubbed the Korgs, a race bred from orc slaves and crafted into the perfect, submissive warriors. Who employed them was unknown, but the shattering of the seal had most certainly released them, as the blighted race had not been seen in hundreds of years.

The attack had been to probe the city and test defenses. A surprise raid had cost them the lives of many city folk, who were now terrified of another assault. Soldiers were marched in, assisting with the patrols and city guard, in case of another attack. With the tourney just a week away and the thousand soldiers who not occupied the capitol, the city was filled to bursting. Prices of nearly everything were rising, especially since many merchants decided the port would not be worth visiting as long as it was at chance of being laid to siege and their ships being put to the torch again.

More attire was delivered, but Eleanor remained in her night chemise, refusing to leave her chambers. She was determined to waste yet another when a heavy knock echoed throughout the room. It wasn’t the polite, light hand of a servant. 

Cracking the door, she glanced out dubiously at her visitor. She was met by the tall chest of Draqio standing outside her door. 

“You going to stay in your room again all day?” he asked her gruffly. Draqio didn’t wait for her to invite him in, pushing the door open, revealing that Ser Athalos was also behind him. “How many forms have you learned while hiding in here? How many spells?”

Eleanor closed the door behind them, leaning up against it as she crossed her arms and glared at them. “None,” she replied sternly, trying to shake the shame that crept over her as she reported it.

“None?” Draqio repeated incredulously. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing,” she muttered glumly, glancing down at her bare feet. 

“After you did so well? You need to keep on your studies and get better!” Draqio insisted, taking a seat at a table, pouring himself a glass of wine. 

“I didn’t want to kill those… things. I don’t want to kill anything! I’m a healer, I’m not supposed to be fighting, what is the use of these forms? Haven’t I acquired enough?” her voice was steadily raising as she spoke, her cheeks flushing as the onslaught of emotion she had been dealing with began flood out of her. 

“They were monsters, it does not matter. They are subservient creatures with a hive mind, they do not even think on their own. Why do you grieve for those beasts?”

“I grieve for life! Monsters they might be, but they were living. The more forms I add, the less capable I am of controlling my instincts. I attacked before I knew what I was doing, I couldn’t control myself. It might be monsters now, but what if one day it is men that I have to kill?”

“You know the battles we will be fighting will likely not be men,” Draqio told her pointedly.

“Eleanor, if not for you, I might not be standing here,” Athalos interjected suddenly. “Killing isn’t easy. It shouldn’t be, but you saved more men helping than if you just observed. Could you really watch someone die and not do anything?”

She couldn’t. That much had been obvious as she had barreled in to save him, heedless of the moral repercussions that now tore at her innards. “I am becoming what I never wanted to be,” she protested weakly. 

“Stop your whining,” Draqio had had enough of her complaining. The large man took a menacing step forward. “You’ve left your home and are now in service to the king. It was a different story when it was believed you hadn’t the power to fight back, but now that you do you’ll use them, whether or not you want to. That much is obvious by how compelled you were to help at the port. Perhaps if you got over yourself you could choose when you’d prefer to assist rather than being driven by these instincts.”

Eleanor sniffed at him, her anger boiling over. She had a retort on her tongue, about to challenge how he could be so callous with someone of noble blood. He should have known his place and hers, he had no right to speak to her as he did. But the words died on her lips and she had a moment of clarity.

What am I becoming? Is resisting it doing more harm than good? I’ve never been one for titles or formalities, she thought, standing up straight. While she didn’t like how Draqio had spoken to her, there was truth in his words. Why should her pride be in the way of helping others? Her gifts could save people, even if it meant she had to dirty her hands. In fact, Athalos might not even be standing before her if not for her magick. 

Eleanor gave Draqio a dubious glare before sighing, uncrossing her arms. “It’s going to take time for me to get used to this. The idea has never sat well with me and I don’t think I’ll be able to change overnight,” she admitted.

“It takes years to train a proper warrior, we just don’t have that luxury,” Draqio finally relaxed. “You need to learn more forms, we’re not leaving until you do. Then your training will resume as it was before.”

Grumbling to herself, she nodded and left her spot beside the door. “Go ahead. Choose which ones, I don’t really care,” she told him nonchalantly. 

The next few hours were spent learning three forms. She began with the bear, which was astoundingly not as difficult as the dire wolf had been. There was a sense of peace and relaxation she hadn’t felt with the wolf, along with wisdom. The bear was both patient and caring, but it was a sight to behold when pushed over the edge, as it was tenacious and ruthless. 

Athalos insisted that another flight form was learned and so she observed the golden eagle’s form. Similar to the marsh harrier, she found that birds were incredibly intelligent and insightful. There was little to no issue learning the massive raptor’s form. It was the last creature that posed the most danger of the three.

Another ferocious animal was chosen, similar in size to the dire wolf. Night sabres were large wild cats that dwelled in jungles. Renowned for their stealthy and silent kills, men feared the solitary creatures for their prowess. When assuming its form, Eleanor discovered that she was lost among the hunt. Her obsidian fur was a rippling mass of muscles, corded and ready to strike at any moment. There was no rage, but instead an insatiable lust and hunger. While she could see through the haze of emotions, controlling the sabre was another story. 

Once Draqio was sated with her progress, he did decide that her work for the day was complete. Eleanor was putting one of her gowns on, when Athalos addressed her. 

“It’s only going to get harder from here out. With the tourney coming up and the threat of another attack, we may have need of your presence and skill. If the enemy were to approach, you would be the only one with the ability to infiltrate without them realizing,” Athalos told her as she worked at tightening her dress behind the shade. 

“Very well, has there been any more movement since the attack in the port?”

“No, but the king and prince are preparing for another. It’s believed that attack was meant to be a suicide mission to probe our defenses. It was unexpected and we were ill prepared. It shan't happen again.”

“I hope not, we lost a lot of men that day…” she trailed off as she came around to sit at the vanity. Almost you as well, she thought, brushing a sparsely toothed comb through her loose curls. 

“Yes…” he agreed solemnly, reminded of the near m******e that had occurred. The event reflected upon him and despite the knights arriving as soon as possible, there was still muttering between nobles and commoners alike that they should have been more prepared. Only those who witnessed the attack truly knew what had happened, but everyone loved to put their two cents in, especially when it came to criticizing someone of a higher position than them, as if they were so much smarter.

Eleanor lowered her brushed and glanced back at him. “You seem tense,” she observed. Caught up in her own dilemmas, she hadn’t even bothered to think about how he might have been coping with the attack. He was acting commander when his cousin or uncle were not in the city and with the burning of many ships and the deaths of some knights and city watchmen, the blame fell upon his shoulders as their leader. She knew, she had been there, the monsters took a handful of men to defeat. 

“There has been a lot going on since that day. Preparations to be certain it doesn’t happen again… People to pay out since their beloved ones were killed. Funerals to attend…” he trailed off, closing his eyes as he suppressed a sigh. “Nothing that should I be worrying you about.”

“You came here to worry about me, yet another thing on your immense plate,” Eleanor said, frowning. She rose her from seat so that she could sit at the table with him. Before, she had not noticed how tired he appeared. There were dark circles around his eyes and his expression seemed fixed in a permanent grimace. My own problems seem so trivial when compared to the responsibilities that he has, she thought, shame washing over her in a wave. The least she could do was to try and make him feel better. “Is there anything I can do?”

Athalos smiled at her kindly, but she could see the strain it placed on him. “No, this is my duty and I chose it.”

“My door is always open if you’d like to talk about it,” Eleanor insisted gently. “You seem like you have a lot on your shoulders, sometimes just talking about it helps.” She could recall her heart to hearts with her own father, always telling him about how she felt. However, in the court, sharing personal information about yourself proved to be a weakness if the person were ever to betray you. Eleanor wasn’t that kind of person, but she knew that Athalos would be hesitant to say anything, despite their growing friendship. He wasn’t the type of man she expected to ever betray her and so she held fast to the attitude that she would treat him likewise. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he told her as he rose.

Eleanor felt a bit of disappointment, but it was expected. Men didn’t like to show weakness and Athalos was certainly no exception. “Very well, you probably have a lot of important things to do. I shouldn’t keep you here any longer.”

She had begun walking him to the door when the knight paused. “It’s nice to get away from work sometimes,” he c****d his head at her and for the first time, Eleanor thought she saw the first real smile from him. “Take care, my lady. Hopefully, I shall get more time to come and speak with you once I get more of my arrangements under control.” Athalos took her slender hand in his callous ones. “Less than a week until the tourney, beware of all of the suitors who may try to earn your token,” there was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he pressed her hand to his lips and then departed.

Eleanor stood at her door, shocked for minutes, as she cradled the hand that he had kissed. The knight ceased to surprise her, just when she thought that their relationship stepped past nothing more than formalities of guard and ward, he did something to make her believe contrary.

He’s not manipulating me, is he? Deep down, she wanted to hope that he wasn’t. The complement of her hair, the kiss on the back of her palm, did he have some ulterior motive? How would that benefit him? He had too much to work on as it was, could he truly have time to scheme? He’s one of the good ones, she insisted mentally as she retreated back to her vanity to finish preparing for the day. 

Eleanor met with her cousin in the gardens for lunch. She had seen little of Taliyah in the days passed and it seemed her suitor had occupied much of her time. 

Taliyah was a bit late, but she approached with a bit, fat, dumb smile on her face. “How are you feeling? I heard you were a little under the weather since the attack in the port,”

Eleanor nodded as her cousin sat down at the table with her. What the girl knew was only a sliver of what occurred. Taliyah was aware that she studied with the sorceress and to work with the military, but of her true skills, few actually knew that the dire wolf had been here. Many assumed she had been a creature summoned by Ilsmera to aid them. Going along with the lie had saved her from many questions. It didn’t change the fact that people still stared at her, knowledge of her healing skills spreading throughout the castle. 

“Better, I was a bit exhausted from my work. How have you been? Good I assume?” she asked, taking one of the finger sandwiches to nibble on.

The delighted sigh that came from her cousin’s lips attested so. “Wonderful! These past few days have been marvelous. Ser Jasper is just so amazing.”

Feigning interest in the man, Eleanor gave her a kind smile. “Ser Jasper?” she repeated, so they were on a first name basis now? The question brought color to Taliyah’s cheeks. “What about him is so wonderful?”

“He’s courteous and charming. He’s taken me to do things that I’ve really enjoyed, like riding in the forest, and enjoying some meals around the city that have theatres performing,” Taliyah detailed.

Sounds dreadfully boring, she thought. What would be her ideal courting situation? Most ladies wanted to be pampered and brought to do things, but watching shows and going on relaxing rides sounded… drear. She wanted to go on exciting rides with her hair blowing in the wind. She wanted to go on boating trips where she could help with the rigs. She wanted to enjoy exotic dinners where there was fighting going on as entertainment. She wanted to sit in a glade of tall grass and wildflowers and waste the whole day just talking. 

“Nothing else has happened?” she asked. 

“I’m positive I’m going to give him my token for the tourney… Have you decided who you’re going to give yours to? I hear that you’ve been spotted with Ser Hollyhock quite a bit.”

Sipping at her tea, she considered her answer carefully. Would he even be attending the tourney now? He had so much work to accomplish, he might not even have the time for it. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted honestly. “I know there are many who would take it, but there aren’t really many I want to give it to. Perhaps Ser Athalos, though I’m not certain.” Would he consider it to be too much? She didn’t really know where their relationship stood. What if it made it awkward? 

He’s complimented you and kissed your hand today, you dolt. Why wouldn’t he take it? She reminded herself silently, but she couldn’t help but feel doubtful. She knew there would be a lot of other ladies that would want him to wear their token, if they had not already approached him about it. She expected that he was too wrapped in his own work that he hadn’t considered it, but it was also possible there was someone he preferred and she just didn’t know him well enough to know who it was.

“Why not? You don’t really talk to any of the other knights,” Taliyah insisted. “He’d be a fool to say no. You’re from one of the most prestigious houses in the kingdom and it would be looked upon favorably, since he is also from a house of similar power.”

It was a smart match, that much was true. But so it the royal family. How did I forget about them? “Prince Luras requested my token back when I first arrived,” she commented. Eleanor hadn’t contemplated it much, since she hadn’t seen the princeling since. The queen might have been expecting her to give her token to Prince Lucan, which as far as Eleanor was concerned, neither Lucan or Eleanor really had interest in the other. Certainly, they could make use of each other when it came to working in the military together, but Lucan had made it clear that he would not marry her and she didn’t mind. Eleanor did not want to be queen, especially now more than ever. What would people think of when they learned of her other powers? They certainly did not suit a queen.

Taliyah made a face, quickly correcting herself. “Oh, that’s an honor…” she drawled, her eyes scanning the area as she made certain no one was around to over hear them. A small shake of her head said otherwise. “But I think Ser Hollyhock is more suited for you. The two of you would make a handsome couple.”

“I thank you for the notion, but the both of us are far too busy with the ongoings in the kingdom to worry about marriage at this moment,” Eleanor retorted, wiping her sweaty palms on the skirt of her dress. Even mentioning being betrothed to Athalos made her nervous. 

“People get married during wartime,” Taliyah scowled. “Why are you so uncomfortable talking about this? It is part of your purpose as a lady to get married and you’re lucky that Ser Hollyhock pays so much attention to you. I know many ladies who would trade positions with you in an instance.”

“Yes, but none of those ladies are mages, Taliyah. You must understand that I am in a more delicate position than other people,” the girl also did not know that Athalos was assigned to work with her. The guise of courtship had even fooled Taliyah. 

“I’m just warning you not to squander the chance you have. Ser Hollyhock is very well respected and I know that your family would certainly approve of the match.”

My mother, you mean, Eleanor thought, denoting that despite their chat earlier in her arrival, Taliyah still looking out for Tansy’s want. The notion alone made her want to choose someone else, despite the fact that she would have gladly given Athalos her token. It would be predictable. Perhaps she ought to give it to Prince Lucan, just to see his reaction and that of his mother. But that was toying with fire and she preferred not to burn herself, just so she could prove her cousin wrong. 

“If you haven’t decided just yet, perhaps a visit to the courtyard might give you ideas. There are certainly many to choose from there,” Taliyah added as she took a lemon treacle.

“How are your studies going?” Eleanor began abruptly.

“My studies…” she drawled. “Not very far, I’ve been occupied with more important things.”

More important? Eleanor was gobsmacked. A few days with a suitor and the Beesbury believed her fling was more important than the art of healing. Controlling her distaste, she simply nodded. “You won’t be much of a healer if you don’t learn the basics,” she replied coolly.

Eleanor had hoped for a glare, a look of disdain, or even shame, but Taliyah shrugged. “I’ll get to it.”

When the war begins, will you get to it? Or will you be too busy groveling in front of Ser Erenford? 

She was growing more cross by the minute. “Why don’t we go for a walk? I’m getting a bit hot sitting here in the sun.” They were only picking at this point and she wanted to find other people to chat with so she could evade these conversations with Taliyah. 

“Certainly. It is always good to walk after a meal,” the girl chirped.

The pair left the gardens and went through Goldenhour to head out to the busy courtyard. More knights had began training after the event in the port and with just days till the tourney, their numbers kept increasing, even though their births were less renowned. Just as the knights increased in number, so did the ladies. Most kept in flocks like sheep, shepherded by the most handsome and wellborne men who trained in the yard. Scanning the area, Eleanor was disappointed when she didn’t see Athalos, but she knew he likely had more important business to attend to than showing off in front of the nobly borne women. 

“Oh look over there!” Taliyah squealed, dragging Eleanor along with her. 

Two men were sparring, a gathering party watching the strikes and parries. Observing, there was a lot of flourishes and showmanship. The exchanges created gasps and delighted ‘ah’s and ‘ooh’s, but it left Eleanor crosser. She’d watched her father fight and he’d never put half the effort that these two did. They looked more like dancers than fighters, fleet on their feet, and putting effort into appearance. It wasn’t practical. Between the duo, it was, as it was an art to make such a fight look so fluid and seamless, but a true fight…. Her father would have just knocked one of them down with his shield. They had poor guard stances and were constantly going in for attack rather than waiting for an opening. It was hasty and would cost them a limb or their life if they fought on the battlefield in such a careless manner. But the crowd slurped it up like the sweetest vint of wine in the city.

Finally, the knights decided to call it a draw, breaking off to a dozen clapping hands so they could cool off and retrieve some water. One of the men turned toward them, eyes lighting up. Handing off his practice sword to a squire, the knight first approached Taliyah.

“Lady Taliyah, how wonderful to see you here today.” This could be none other than the gallant Ser Erenford that she’d heard so much about. He was a man of moderate height, though he only overstepped Eleanor by a couple of inches. He was lean, well muscled, and had a sharply carven face that was cleanly shaven. He features were so sharp that a beard might have done him well, but he let the woman soak in his handsomeness instead. He had shoulder length flaxen hair that was damp and sweaty. 

“You fought spectacularly!” Taliyah complimented dumbly.

“Thank you, but it was one of my lesser days. Had I been up to full strength, I could have easily bested him, but I did have a hard practice routine this morning,” the knight boasted nonchalantly, stretching his shoulders as if they pained him. His eyes sidled over, giving the Blacktyde a look over from head to toe. “And this must by your cousin, Lady Eleanor.”

Blacktyde to you, she hissed silently, a forced smile coming to her lips. “Yes, I have heard so much about you Ser Erenford, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Yes, likewise. Are you excited for the tourney? Have you chosen a knight, yet?”

Is he trying to scope me out for his companions? “Yes, it will be the first tourney I have attended. As for a knight, I would prefer not to betray who I have chosen, but I do have someone in mind.”

Erenford didn’t seem delighted by her answer, but he accepted it. “Your first? Don’t mind me for saying, but a lady of your age ought to have seen half a dozen by now.”

“Jasper... Lady Eleanor hasn’t been to the capitol before this.”

“Yes,” Eleanor began, prickled. “Not everyone has that luxury, especially as a sickly child. I am fortunate I am as strong as I am now.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, my lady. I was just observing that you’re a bit older than many of the unmarried ladies here,” he said, digging his grave further, as he glanced at Taliyah as if to prove his point. 

“They say, with age, comes wisdom. Alas, it seems that it might be case to case, especially with men,” Eleanor retorted evenly. “If you beg my pardon, I do believe I see a knight I am more fond of.”

Sweeping past them, she knew that her cousin might be upset with her. But she didn’t have to stand for his mockery. If he preferred young girls to a grown woman, that was fine, but to tell her to her face was another story entirely. 

“Lady Eleanor, I hope this time we meet that we don’t get interrupted by another event.” 

She whirled around and relaxed at the sight of Ser Merek.

“You’re a bit red-faced, are you alright?” he asked earnestly.

“A bit vexed, but nothing like storming away from the issue won’t solve,” she replied, exhaling deeply as she pressed her fingers to her temple. “Excuse my language, but it Ser Erenford always a bigot?”

The man’s eyes widened at her words before he blurted out into laughter. He covered his mouth, trying to calm himself down. It took a good minute, but eventually Merek got himself under control. “Jasper? Yeah, he’s a bit of a bigot. Thinks he’s better than anyone else with his fancy moves, but to be honest I could defeat him with a sword and I’m much better with a bow. You saw what using a weapon other than a bow has done to me,” he gestured at his chest, where he had once been wounded. “Why do you ask? Did he attempt courting you? You definitely are a no nonsense type of woman.”

The pair sat by a tree before Eleanor answered. “I’m not a no nonsense, but I don’t take insults to my face very kindly. He called me old and made fun of me for not being to a tourney before,” she pouted.

“You’ve never been to a tourney before?” Merek asked incredulously and was swiftly reprimanded by a glare. “Sorry, yes, the point. And you’re not old, there have been ladies who’ve wed much older than you. So I take it he wasn’t attempting to court you then? He has always preferred the freshly flowered ‘women’.”

“No, thank the Gods he wasn’t, he’s like a peacock. All feathers, but no talons. I saw how he fought and it was very shoddy. More like dancing than true fighting and I’ve seen fighters from the City States to know that it wasn’t one of their queer forms. It was choreographed.”

“There’s a brigand of knights here who use this fancy dance style. Everyone likes a good show and there’s many who soak it up without knowing that it’d be useless on the battlefield. Your enemy won’t wait for you to flourish your sword a quarter turn, he’ll just gut you and move on to the next one. But like I said, it’s used here and I suppose it has its place, especially with the tourney coming up. The commoners tend to like the knights who make more of a show. However, it won’t win them a tourney, just attention. Which is one in the same. When they lose, the ladies will commend them and say how they put a good effort in and should have won. It’s the same every time.”

“Doubtless you will lead with the archery event, from what I’ve heard.”

“Unless the Goddess has sent a new challenger from a far off land who can outmatch me, likely. However, winning one event doesn’t win a tourney and I know that Ferren and Wendwater can easily unseat me on a horse. They can also beat me in sword as well as Prince Lucan and Ser Athalos, among some others. But I can settle for winning just one event, that’s more than most can boast.”

“I have no doubt in your ser, perhaps if you had more confidence in yourself, then you could win… And if you practiced properly,” Eleanor insisted. As honest as he was, he had held his own in the port. She had not gotten to see him fight, but Athalos had said he was a dervish at mixed combat with bow and curved sword or dagger. 

The golden man scratched the back of his head, chagrined from the reminder of his blunder. “Perhaps with a token from my lady, I’d have a better chance at winning the other events.”

She recalled their first exchange in the infirmary and the knight’s flirtatious advances. But she did not find him boring or too persistent, he was modest and easygoing, as well as had a good sense of humor. She could speak unlike a lady and the Merek seemed not to judge her for it. He had also seen what she could become and no sliver of fear showed in his eyes. She ought to have expected that he would ask. “You know, the prince has asked me for my token as well.”

Merek cursed softly, but there was mischief in his tone as he swung his arm in a dramatic gesture. “The prince! How could I ever compare to Prince Lucan? Surely you have promised it, then?”

“Not Lucan, Prince Luras.”

Merek just stared at her. “Are you really considering giving it to him?”

“No,” Eleanor snorted, covering her mouth to prevent herself from chortling further. “If he was really so keen with me, you’d think he’d try to arrange more meetings with me before the tourney. I haven’t seen him since my arrival.”

“Then my chance is better than I thought! Unless… you do have someone in mind. There have been a lot of rumors circulating about you and Ser Athalos. The servants notice that he visits you quite often.”

She didn’t know who was watching her, but if Merek knew, then it was likely common knowledge within Goldenhour. Now, she was beginning to care less and less for what reputation she had. It was diminished daily, whether she tried or not. But it mattered naught, those who wanted to associate with her did not let petty rumors stop them from engaging her attention and those who let the words bother them, were not worth what precious time she had free. 

“He’s not courting you, is he? That would be a shame.”

“A shame for you, that is,” Eleanor corrected.

“Yes, a shame for me,” he pouted.

Should I tell him? “If I tell you, how do I know you won’t alert all the other suitors lurking, trying to garner my attention?”

“Why would I do that? I’d prefer if they thought that! Most fear Ser Athalos, he’s known for his temper.”

“Temper?” she echoed. Ser Athalos was stern, but she’d never seen him angry. Exasperated was another story.

“He’s a man who strives for perfection and when he doesn’t see it in his troops… He’s not afraid to call out knights who are slacking or not properly performing their duties. A lot of people dislike him for his honesty, think he is rude, and do not want to be reprimanded by him. They call it ‘his temper’, but if they’d just do their job they wouldn’t ever get on his bad side. So, many steer clear of him to avoid his gaze, even if it is in the casual setting of the court. I assume they’d steer clear of you to avoid him, as if they’d think he’d pick on them because they’d talk to a lady he fancied. Only a few of us know better.”

“Yourself included, it seems.”

“I wouldn’t consider myself his friend, but I do think of him as a reliable acquaintance and ally. It is pretty cut and dry with him and I take my orders without argument. But some people get their knickers in a bunch and can’t do something as simple as that… Anyways, is he courting you?” Merek turned himself back to the point. 

“No,” Eleanor replied crisply, the word sour on her lips. She didn’t realize how much she would have liked it until she told someone aloud. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking of giving him my token.”

“Darn,” Merek muttered, but his voice did not sound disappointed. “Perhaps you will consider me as a choice as well, my lady. I might even win if I were awarded such an honor.”

“You know, it sounds like you might not have been trying hard enough in the past to win, if you’re that confident a small token would suddenly put you ahead of everyone else.”

“I haven’t really had a reason to win before,” Ser Merek retorted, lifting his head in the direction of where he heard his name being called from. Ser Ferren and Ser Wendwater were motioning him over, dressed in padded armor, preparing for some training. “It seems my break if over, I’ve got to prepare to win this tourney now.” The man smiled at her boldly before getting up and jogging over to his companions, leaving Eleanor to contemplate the conversation.

There were two people she could give her token to. One that wanted it and the other that was an uncertainty. Eleanor originally had wanted to give it to Ser Athalos, but she couldn’t help but be worried by the mixed messages she received from him. Ser Merek on the other hand was crystal clear about his favor toward her and she found that he was refreshing to be around. It had been a mistake to tell him she wasn’t being courted, it would only make her efforts toward Athalos obvious and if he rejected them, Merek would be aware.  She might also offend Merek by favoring Athalos after their conversation. Would Athalos cherish the token as Merek obviously would? Was it a risk she was willing to take? Or would it be better to just go the safe route?

What do I want? Who do I want? Closing her eyes she dwelled on it, but found herself split. She felt that she needed to talk to Merek more, perhaps in private where there would not be prying ears. Too many would notice if she invited him to her chambers, especially since Athalos habited them enough. There were too few days and Merek also needed to train without being distracted.

I shouldn’t bother him… I should just choose him and be done with it. The rare compliments from Athalos might mean nothing and I shouldn’t take a chance. But what if Athalos did want her token and she gave it to Merek? Eleanor was becoming frazzled as she contemplated the two. And then it struck her. What if I give it to neither?

A gentle rap on the door stirred Eleanor from her late night studies. Wrapping her robe tightly around her, she cracked it open to see a servant standing there. 

“My lady, I apologize for the intrusion this late, but I was told to deliver this to you,” the young man held out a seal note, bowing before he dismissed himself.

Thumbing the seal, she leaned against the door, staring at the grey wax that was freshly stamped upon it. There was no sigil, causing her to wonder who would bother with a note at this hour. Athalos would have just come to tell her himself, unless he was in the field for some reason.

Unfurling the parchment, scrawled in script was, ‘Meet me in the gardens.’

Her brows furrowed, did Merek send her the letter? He might have signed it if he did, there was no name to go along with it. He wasn’t a sneaky person or at least she didn’t believe he was.

Eleanor found the newest of her dress collection, the only piece that had been charmed to change with her forms. She would see who it was before they could see her. Slipping the attire on, she opened the glass doors to her balcony and assumed the golden eagle’s form. Beating her wings, she took off into the air and sailed down toward the gardens.

It was dark, few torch lights littering the area. The garden was not well lit at night. Even so, she could detect movement among the thicket. Settling on the branch of a tree, she observed, ears open, head c****d, feathers bristling as she hunkered down.

“Are the others almost here? It’s a bit chilly tonight,” she recognized the voice as Ser Erenford, curious if he had sent her the note. To say she was surprised, would be lying. He was a gluttonous man and if he had attempted to invite her for a midnight rendezvous without Taliyah knowing…

No, he’s not waiting for me, Eleanor thought as she watched Erenford pass with another knight. They were congregating and she had stumbled in on whatever event they were planning. She followed them through the trees, taking perch and watching as other knights gathered. Toward the rear of the gardens was a large bonfire that overlooked the bay, walls low enough to glance down the palisade. 

Among the knights, she identified Prince Luras among those collected around the roaring flames, which cast a hellish glare upon those gathered. 

"Kallot, Erenford, you two did your patrol, correct? To make certain there are no little servants scurrying around too close? I would hate for my mother to break up our fun if one of her little pawns were to overhear us," Luras remarked, eyes dancing madly with the light of the fire. 

"Yes, nothing that we could see," Erenford commented, rolling his shoulders in a disdainful shrug. 

"We have Quillen posted as guard tonight," Kallot added with a reassuring nod.

"Very well, let us begin," Luras declared.

In all, there were half a dozen knights collected with the prince. Among that number was Erenford, Kallot, Yarrow, and a few others she didn not know by name, but could only assume they belonged to the Court Chevalier group. Eleanor's feathers bristled as she watched, wondering what she had stumbled upon. It was obviously some sort of secret society and in such a brazen area... Perhaps that was the point, to put it in a place that no one would suspect, making it less suspicious.

"No Stassos tonight?" someone commented.

"I knew he didn't have it in him. All smiles and charms, that one, but not gall to back it up," Luras mused, crossing his arms. "Let us begin the meeting. With the tourney drawing near, most of the ladies are like bitches in heat, excited to offer their tokens. Where does everyone stand at this point? I want detailed reports."

Each knight spoke about their endeavors, about the ladies that fancied them, and the ones they were most interested in. At this point, the gathering seemed innocent, aside from some of the derogatory manners they spoke about women from time to time. 

"Very good, let us move onto our next topic. Bribes and politics. Have we received any bribes within the last week?" Luras asked.

"Another from Lady Raina," Kallot stepped forward, offering the prince a small tote that appeared to be filled with dried herbs.

Opening it, he fingered through the bundle and smiled, tossing it into the flames. The fire popped and became a brilliant emerald blaze before it balked and simmered down to half the original height. 

"Green, the color of envy. I assume it is against her sister again?" Luras sighed wistfully.

"Yes, no different than what we were doing before. Spreading rumors, keeping the other ladies away from her... However-" Kallot drawled, his fingers twiddling nervously. "Even if she makes no friends with the ladies of the court, she had already earned herself the trust of the Commander and it would seem Oakheart, Wendwater, and Ferren. Her cousin also stands beside her.... for now," he glanced over at Erenford and gave a sly smile.

"Hm, and if Athalos stands beside her, you know very well that my brother will," Luras shook his head, displeased by what he was hearing. "But it does not matter. Her friends are not those with strong standing in the court, they are just those with their lines tied to the military. And she will let none of us get close to her otherwise, so we will take our victories where we can. Are there any other offerings?"

Another knight stepped forward with a bundle. "An offering from Lady Juniper against Lady Bahiti. It would seem that Lady Bahiti has gained the favor of Ser Gillheard and Lady Juniper is not very pleased by that. Gillheard is a man of principle and honor, if he were to discover that Lady Bahiti is no maiden..."

Luras picked through the pouch and tossed it in the flames. Kicking up again, it shimmered a bright yellow before dying back down. 

"Who would like the honor? Lady Bahiti is an exotic beauty. A ride in the King's Wood, followed by an attack by bandits would be so unfortunate, wouldn't it? Of course, they'd let her go after they were done with her," Luras feigned sorrow, glancing at his fingernails as he proposed the wicked act.

Looking among themselves, two knights raised their hands. "It will take someone pretending to be on the trip with her."

"I can take her with Lady Taliyah for a ride tomorrow after breakfast," Ser Erenford volunteered.

Eleanor could barely believe what she was hearing. They were planning on attacking Lady Bahiti and stealing her maidenhood! And they wouldn't be paying someone to do it, they would be the criminals! Whoever had sent her the note knew that this group existed and knew that she would be able to eavesdrop unnoticed. At this moment, revealing herself would do nothing but betray her. She had to stop the attack on Lady Bahiti somehow and reveal the knights as frauds. At least then, she could begin unraveling this evil little circle. 

How many had they hurt? Chased away from the capitol because they had attacked and shamed them? Why did they do it? Did their sick, twisted minds gain some sort of satisfaction from hurting others. Her father had warned her that the capitol was full of vipers, but from her perch in the trees, she only saw rabid dogs. And Raina... Raina was purposely ostracizing her from the rest of the court. Eleanor had done well enough to not mingle, but she had wondered why no one approached her and attempted to learn more. Now it made sense. Whatever gossip these men were spreading, it certainly kept the rest of the court away and muttering about the rumors.

There were no more offerings and the topics became lewd, about fantasies some of the men had. Eleanor listened, trying to discern more information, but some of the descriptions were so vivid and wicked that she was convinced that those in this group were mad. 

No wonder the King does not trust his youngest son. He's s psychopath! she thought as the meeting was adjourned and they planned for another in a week's time. Eleanor remained in the tree for a few minutes, eventually unfurling her wings and taking to the sky. Circling above, her mind raced as she tried to devise a plan for the morning. In her chest, she could feel the rage of the wolf trying to overtake her.

'Rip them limb from limb. Teach them a lesson. Hurt them. Hurt them bad,' the wolf snarled.

No accidents. I need to hurt them where everyone can see, show everyone what they truly are, Eleanor rationalized, pushing her instincts beneath. They were going on a ride in the King's Wood, a path that was frequently traveled. She would need others to help her, under the guise of a hunting party... They could intercept the attack, without garnering suspicion. Eleanor could take the form of a hunting dog or a falcon, lead her companions to the monsters. But the fight would have to get far enough that there was enough to charge on. She would need to wait until the last possible moment to try and save Lady Bahiti, even if that meant terrifying her.

Maybe Merek and the others... she thought, diving toward the courtyard to see if any of them were out training. Many knights and warriors had stayed up late to continue to train for the tourney. Roosting in the old oak, she glanced around, trying to find them among the bodies.

"Oh fair eagle, what pretty eyes you have," someone greeted from below.

Bringing her eyes to meet them, she noticed Ser Stassos had acknowledged her. She c****d her head at him, daring him to continue.

"I wonder what those eyes have seen tonight," he mused, placing his practice sword against the trunk, offering his arm for her to land on. 

Piqued, she swooped down and grabbed onto his vambrace. 

"I hope you enjoyed the show tonight," he whispered low, brushing down her feathers against her head. "Sorry I could not be there... Not my type of crowd."

He sent the note, she thought, recalling that the other knights had noticed he was not at their circle. Eleanor observed him, narrowing her eyes. But why? If he had been one of them, why would he betray them? 

He couldn't reveal them alone. He needed help and they must not have revealed everything when he was there... I might have mistook him for worse. But how did he know that I could shapeshift? There were a few questions that she had for Ser Stassos, none of which she could ask in this form. 

Eleanor flickered her wings and then beat them hard, launching herself into the air. She gave a low trill and sailed over the portcullis, choosing a secluded area outside the gate to land and revert to her human form. Waiting patiently, Ser Stassos trotted up a few moments later, grinning like a fox.

"So it is true, I believed you were the wolf, but..."

"You were not certain until now?" she filled in, crossing her arms. The conversation she had eavesdropped on had soured her mood, twisting her stomach into all sorts of knots. On top of that, she didn't exactly have a very good relationship with the man in front of her.

"I thought to risk it, if you could shapeshift, then you could hear what was going on," Stassos remarked, his head on a swivel as he glanced around to be certain they were not being followed. "This topic is very sensitive. May I suggest that we walk somewhere else? I know a few places that should be safe enough."

"Very well, I have questions for you," Eleanor agreed. 

"Here, you will draw attention dressed like that," he offered her his cloak.

Wrapping it around her shoulders, she drew the hood up and followed Stassos into town. He selected a tavern and found them a table in the corner. A barmaid appeared to bring them some drinks before flouncing off to tend to more needy customers. 

Eleanor left her hood up, aware that her eyes would warrant attention if others noticed. "What did I bear witness to, tonight?" she asked him after taking a sip of the mulled cider.

"A brotherhood of a sort. Only the 'best' are chosen for. If you ask me, I'd say only those mad enough to forsake common courtesy and take what they want when a woman won't give it. Not to mention the bribes..." Adaro sighed, staring into his cup as he spoke, as if he were ashamed.

"Why did they invite you?"

"The women like me and I like them, I suppose they thought I take rather than accept what is given. It's not my fault if women let me into their bed chambers, I don't try to weasel my way in. I attended one meeting, assuming that it was just some fraternity where we spoke about our women, tried to give tips to our brothers, have a few drinks... Of course, it wasn't that. It was all wrapped up in court politics and some sort of dark hedge magick. Once I saw that, I knew I'd never go back," he muttered something in his language beneath his breath, marking a cross motion against his forehead, lips, and chest, a shudder running through him. "It is ungodly. But I knew that even if I left, others would be hurt. I didn't have a solution that until recently and even then it was a long shot."

"One of their targets is with my cousin and I have a feeling he's just biding his time for now. But I have new intel that requires... Help. I can't do it on my own, I don't want them aware that I know. So I would have to remain an animal the entire time," Eleanor proposed. She hadn't ever considered trusting Stassos, but he had been the one to point her to this, the one he originally sought help from. Despite their first bout when she had arrived, she could see he was not dishonorable.

"I'm listening," Adaro leaned in.

"I need you to grab Ser Oakheart, Wendwater, and Ferren, arrange for a hunt at dawn at the King's Wood. Of course, you'll need a proper b***h and I know of the best one who'll lead you right to the game. I hear there are bandits in those woods, it would be good timing if we intercepted them while hunting. Tell Merek that I requested he be there, he will not ask any further questions. We can fill them in after."

Ser Stassos nodded and leaned back in his seat. "Think of it as done."

"Good," Eleanor muttered, her thoughts dark and swirling within her head. She inhaled the rest of her cider and stood. "Then we are done here. Would you walk me back to the castle, Ser Stassos?"

"Please, Adaro is fine.”

"I don't understand why you're dragging us on this hunt so early," Merek complained loudly as he drew his horse after Adaro, a man who was on a mission. "Everyone knows you're supposed to go before dawn, not at it."

"Just follow me," the foreign knight snapped, bringing his destrier over toward the kennels. "Ah there she is. Waiting all pretty too," Adaro gestured to a russet dog that was alarmingly stoic at their arrival. Most other dogs would have wagged their tails, become excited, and even barked as they approached. 

"All this for-" Merek began, but cut himself off when he saw the dog's irises. "Very well, let's get on with it."

"You can't be serious," Lief commented, but Oakheart didn't supply an answer.

The party mounted up and departed from the city, dawn sliding away as they made it beneath the verdant canopies of the King's Wood. It was a beautiful day, the wind rustling the boughs, creating a cacophony of fluttering like the wings of thousands of butterflies. Sunlight slid through the leaves to playfully cast a glow on the riders who followed the shaggy hound down game trails. 

"What are we tracking?" Merek asked finally as Adaro leaned down, offering a small token for Eleanor to snuff.

"Large game today, dangerous too," Adaro responded.

They made circles round the forest for a couple of hours, unable to pick up a trail to the scent. By that point, Eleanor was becoming restless, wondering if her sense of smell would be keen enough to pick up Taliyah's smell. Again they circled round the game path, but this time, her mouth watered and she could taste the delicate rose petals and marigold in the back of her throat. 

A shrill bay escaped her lips, the knights perking up behind her as she followed the trail like a bat out of hell. They dropped further behind, by the command of Adaro. It had been decided that once she deemed it safe to approach, she could give a howl. The trail flanked the King's Road before it split off onto a scenic path often used by nobles wishing to go on a leisurely ride. Wildflowers and ferns lined the path, interfering with her scent trail, causing her to pause and take a few loud snuffs before she found it again.

The path detoured and went into the wood, a thin game trail that was only wide enough for one horse at a time. The vegetation was thicker, more difficult to squeeze through, and overgrown with bramble. Further down, it diverged into two roads, on the ground she found a glove that did not belong to Taliyah; it was a woman's. 

Eleanor paced in circles until the men caught up with her. She gave a low huff and started padding down the path to the right.

"Wait here," Adaro directed, his voice fading behind her.

Her ears picked up over voices, the path widening. "Look out!"

She strained to hear the sound of a horse whining and the scream of a woman. 

"Behind me!"

"Lady Bahiti!" Taliyah squealed.

The path began to quake beneath her paws. Darting into the undergrowth, a riderless horse thundered away in fear. Creating her own path, Eleanor juxtaposed the road as she padded swiftly in the direction of the scuttling and scrambling. Feet trampled hard down on twigs and leaves, creating audible crunches and cracks. There was a muffled sound like someone was holding a hand over a person's mouth.

Eleanor crept forward, as low as her haunches would allow in this form. She was no night lion, but she managed to move along quietly. She came a top a slight incline, looking down at two men whose faces were covered with a scarves and hats, obscuring their features. Dragging along with them was a tall, thrashing woman with skin of mahogany. She was gagged, hands tied as they dragged her along like a hog.

"Put her over here," one of the men directed as they propped her up against one of the trees. "We'll show the lady a real good time, won't we?"

Eleanor observed until she knew there was no returning. She let one of them pull their trousers down slightly before she let out a deep, resounding howl and charged from her position in the brush. She caught the first one off guard completely, bowling into him, sending him splaying into the grass and leaves as he tripped over his pants. He fell face first, with a heavy 'oof' as he sank her teeth into the back of his leg. The leather of his boots created too much of a barrier for her teeth to get too deep, but the coppery flavor of blood did speckle her tongue. 

There would be a lapse in time before the other caught up and surprise was the only upper hand she possessed. Now that the bewilderment had faded, the other had reached for his sword, an item too rich for a mere bandit to be carrying. Shaking her head, Eleanor's teeth dug deeper and deeper until the man writhing beneath her screamed in pain. 

Releasing him, she snarled at the man with a sword, pacing in between the two of them and Lady Bahiti. She could smell the fear of the man she had attacked, but Lady Bahiti... Only perspiration emitted from her, her eyes leveling at those in front of her with a dignified expression.

"f*****g curr, I'll gut you right here," the swordsman threatened as he took a menacing step forward. 

Eleanor snapped at him viciously, blood leaking between her teeth. Driving toward her, the blade rushed by as she stepped to the side. Humans were slow compared to animals, but he did retain a sword that had a longer reach than she. With no armor, it would sink straight into her flesh, uninhibited. 

Biding her time, she danced with him for a bit, every once in a while feigning a lunge to get him to back off. Her ears pricked at the sound of hooves and she raised her head to call again. The second human was rising again, a dagger flashing in the light as they tried to pincer her. Low to the ground, she was running out of options and shapeshifting to a larger, more powerful beast was out of question. Her full hand could not be revealed now.

An arrow whistled through the air, a warning shot as it whistled by the sword-bandit's head and plunked into the tree just behind him. When both of their heads turned to observe where it had come from, Eleanor seized her chance and leapt at the injured one again. Slamming him to the ground she locked her jaw around his wrist, only at that moment, with fury blinding her, that she had chosen the wrong hand. Pain laced her side and she released his wrist in a yelp of agony.

Someone grabbed her by the scruff and hauled her away, throwing her away and to the ground. The others were descending on the group, there was nowhere for them to turn and run. 

"What have we here?" Ser Stassos inclined as he dismounted, leveling his sword at the two before him. "A successful hunt, I would say. Reveal yourselves."

Lief was by Lady Bahiti's side, cutting her bindings. The dark skinned woman pulled down her gag and glanced over at the hound that had saved her. 

"Is this your hound?" she asked in a thick accent.

Merek trotted down last, lowering his bow.

"That is-" Lief began before noticing that Eleanor was not standing. "Ser Oakheart!"

The smile faded from Merek's lips, just as the men were about to pull their masks up. He struggled off of his horse, tangling himself in the stirrups as he clambered over toward the fallen hound. "Elle..." he muttered, running his fingers through her fur to see that she had been wounded against her right flank.

Fortunately, she was awake, but she whimpered quietly, tail slowly wagging. "Take these bastards back to the capitol to face justice for kidnapping and attempted defilement. Throw them in the dungeons to face the King's wrath for attacking a Lady of the Court. Ser Stassos, please tend to Lady Bahiti," Merek ordered abruptly, the playfulness vanishing from the golden knight as he slid his arms under the hound and began walking away from the party.

Ser Oakheart's pace picked up once they were out of sight, finding a quiet brook to lay her back down by. "My lady-" he moved his hand from the wound to reveal his hand and arm now crimson with her blood. 

In the privacy of the woad, Eleanor shifted back to a human, her face as pale as a sheet. Her fingers scrabbled against the wound on her abdomen where the dagger had found purchase. "I missed... I attacked the wrong..." she flinched when she touched her own wound. It was deep, painful, and she was bleeding a lot from it. With each passing second, her energy was depleting and she would not have the strength to repair any of it.

I must heal what I can, stop the blood loss. I... I cannot heal it all, she realized, trying to clear her mind so that she could stitch the wound up. However, the fainter she became, the less clarity she had. The blood. Stop the blood.

Her skin was numb, crawling like millions of tiny spiders were dancing on her wound. The deepest part was repaired, the internal injury fusing together, but her strength failed her at the surface. She was unable to close the wound and completely stem the bleeding.

"I need pressure... Applied to the wound. I-I can't heal anymore," she managed, glancing up at Merek with a weary expression. "I can hold a form for a short while. At least until we get to the castle."

Eleanor slipped into the form of a fox, sagging on the ground as Merek cut away part of his cloak. He bound her abdomen tightly and swaddled her fatigued body in the remaining fabric, carrying her in his arms. Ferren was waiting with his horse, the others had already started back for the city.

"Merek..." he drawled, his eyes spotted the wrapped fox in his arms. "Is that?"

"Yes, and she's injured. We need to get her to Wendell.”

The dungeons reeked of piss and s**t, rat squeaks resounding against the stone walls. Not a soul spoke, for there was no point in doing so. Few every saw the light of day again and when they did, it was often just to go see a headsman. This is where they were fated to stay until the king returned to interrogate them. They had been caught and now they would pay the price for something they attempted to do. However, they had gotten away with it before and only now did the Goddesses see fit to punish them. 

Chainmail c******g and hand sliding against the stone walls grated against their ears. Would they send someone to torture them? To find out about the circle?

Ser Merek Oakheart materialized in front of the barred door, his eyes dark, hooded, and grim as he glared at them, strong arms crossed. 

"Enjoying your stay, boys?" he asked sweetly, observing how they were tied to manacles, hanging by their biceps, feet barely brushing the ground. 

Merek brandished a key and unlocked the door, letting out a low and wistful sigh. "You know, I really liked that hound, and you had to go and stab her, didn't you? Which one of you was it, Halor or Nievene?"

When neither lavished him with an answer, Merek chuckled and pulled up a stool from the corner of the room, sitting between them. He spun the skeleton key around on his gloved finger, glancing between them. 

"You both were quite bold. Attacking a foreign lady, attempting to r**e her. For what reason, I wonder... Hm, hm, hm," he stopped spinning the key and tapped his lip. "You could tell me now and save yourself the pain. I already can assure you that the king does not take these types of things kindly. And you know, you two seemed very well prepared... Almost as if you had done this before."

"Go to hell Oakheart," Halor spat, attempting to get Merek in the face, but he wasn't close enough.

"I'm certain that's where you'll end up. Now, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Which one of you bastards put a dagger in my dog?" he waved the key between the both of them. 

"I did, blasted curr! Is that what you want to hear Oakheart? I tried to kill the damned beast. You train it yourself? I hope it died choking on its blood," Nievene shouted, spittle spewing from his lips.

"Very good, I like talkers. It makes things easier," he reached to his belt and removed a stiletto dagger. "I've been given permission by Prince Lucan to conduct an interrogation. Would you like to find out why they call me The Needle? I know all the right places to poke and prod without killing you. It will hurt, oh yes it will, but always remember, if you're honest, I'll hurt you less."

People always wondered how a talented ranger like Merek had been able to discover vital information. It wasn't handed over to him. Why kill the enemy immediately? They were much more useful after being interrogated, each man a wealth of knowledge. These two, he expected, had some dirty secrets that the king would love to hear about. And truth be told, Merek knew he would enjoy hearing them squeal like the pigs they were, especially after one of them had stabbed Eleanor.

That's always been your weak spot, hasn't it, Oakheart? Women and children, he smiled to himself before brandishing his dagger. "So who wants to begin? Ah, and Nievene, this is for that lovely hound you so boldly claimed to hurt." Merek took the thin blade and slid it into the man's hip. "That spot is usually a place for pleasure, but I suppose, that doesn't feel good at all? It hurts more once the dagger comes out, but don't worry, the entrance wound is small and shallow so you won't bleed out from it."

Nievene shuddered, a breath of pain escaping through his lips before a shrill whine whistled out of his throat, the blade slowly removing itself. Blood puckered against the cloth and Merek wiped the blood on his shirt and gave the man a wicked smile. 

"Let's continue now that I've gotten that out of my system."

The once solemn dungeon, only filled with the skittering of rats, echoed with the anguished cries of men. A servant traveled down the stairs, albeit nervously at the sounds that only grew louder as he approached. It simmered down as he arrived in front of the barred door. 

"Ser Oakheart... Wendell has sent for you," the servant peeped, glancing at the three men in the musty chamber like a mouse before an enormous, veracious feline.

The knight straightened, the two men before him panting laboriously, covered in a layer of sweat. Their rags were dotted with tiny red pinpricks, muscles quivering from their flesh tensing under the strain of the torture. Ser Oakheart turned and smiled graciously, returning the small blade to his belt with a dexterous slip of his hand. 

"Thank you," he bid, the servant scurrying off as fast as their legs would take them without seeming rude. "I'll be back to learn more from you. Contemplate your solitude and remember, if you talk, I'll hurt you less."

He received no combative answer as he departed, locking the cell back up. Did he enjoy this work? Once, he had been repulsed by it, despite the benefits it awarded. Eventually, he became numb, even taking pleasure when those he tortured deserved it. This was his justice, for those that they had hurt or killed, he would return it to them tenfold.

Merek ascended into the castle and made his way to the Inner Sanctum. He had not visited Lady Eleanor's chambers until he had dropped her off for Wendell to inspect. She insisted that no one could know that she was injured or that she had been with them. 

We shouldn't have let her get so far ahead. If we were closer, we could have stopped them before they... he ran over the mission in his head several times over. What they could have done better? He wished that Eleanor had come to him and explained what was going on, rather than trusting Adaro to fill them in. Merek hadn't learned about what truly had been going on until Ser Stassos pulled him aside after and explained.

Rapping upon the oaken door, Wendell cracked it and gave him a dubious look over. He opened the door just wide enough for him to slip in. 

Wendell was not the only person inside of the suite. Ser Hollyhock and the sorceress, Ilsmera, were also in the room. 

Ilsmera was perched at a nearby table, silent, watching, and withdrawn as she delicately sipped at the crystal chalice of red wine she possessed.

Lady Blacktyde was lying in her bed, hair fanned around her, blankets pulled up over her white chemise. Her condition was stable and she was awake.

"Ser Oakheart... Would you like to explain to me why Lady Blacktyde is here, injured?" Ser Hollyhock began, his voice strained, just holding onto the edge of of his composure. 

"It's my fault I got hurt, don't try to pin the blame on someone else," Eleanor retorted haughtily, her eyes burning despite her feverish features; skin pale, sallow, cheeks flushed.

"What were you even doing out there!?" Athalos demanded, rage boiling over.

Merek observed, he had seen the commander launch himself into a fury before. It was best to stay out of his way, negate the casualties, an wait until he regained his composure. 

"My duty, what needed to be done. I had information that they were going to do that and I had to catch them in the act. I'm sorry that I wasn't as strong in a dog's form," she didn't sound very apologetic. 

"Don't mess around in forces you can't even begin to fathom. The prince's escapades will be dealt with in time," Athalos retorted sharply.

Eleanor paused, her nostrils flaring. "You knew? You knew that the prince was doing this? Does it not bother you that a lady would have been r***d today? How many more people have to get hurt before something is done about it? I-I-" her face shifted from flushed to a vivid red.

Wendell rushed to her side as she clutched at where her wound was. "My lady, you need to calm down or you will stress the wound further."

"Get out," Eleanor told him in a small voice, closing her eyes, inhaling gently as she tried to calm herself. "Get out of my chambers, right now."

Ser Hollyhock's anger fled him, his eyes softening as he looked at her, but he did not defy her. Not after the woman felt betrayed by him. Without another word, the knight swept himself out of the chambers, leaving the room silent until Wendell spoke up.

"My lady, you should really drink this and rest," Wendell ushered, offering her milk of poppy.

"Merek, did you know?" she ignored the healer.

Straightening, the blonde shook his head. "No, this is the first I've heard of it, but I must say that I'm not surprised. Prince Luras has always been the type who takes what he wants when it is not given. A group that he created to do so while using these 'deeds' to circulate politics in the court is not far-fetched. What does disgust me is that a good portion of the court had to have known of this... Most knights were probably unaware due to our positions and I'm rarely in the capitol this long either."

"Did Adaro fill you in?"

"A little, I acquired the rest of the information from the little piggies in the dungeon. Most of the information, I shall spare you from, but this will be taken care of. The king does not tolerate these kind of things," Merek assured her.

"Are you certain the king isn't aware as well?"

"If the king was aware, Prince Luras would be hanging upside down by his toes in the dungeon. I assume his mother has been shielding him until this point. I wouldn't expect the queen to condone it, but willfully turn a blind eye? More likely..." he drawled off, noticing that Wendell was glaring at him. "But this is a conversation for when you are better rested."

Eleanor frowned, but finally admitted her defeat and accepted the draught from Wendell. She eased back in her bed and let out a low sigh, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. She looked so frail, so exhausted in this state. It was hard to believe this slender woman could be capable of turning into beasts that could destroy monsters. But not every form she had was strong enough and perhaps she had overestimated her own strength and skill.

They will pay. One drop of blood at a time, until the king returns, he promised her silently.