Balthazar sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. There was a sunburn there, he could feel it. English summers were short and sharp, and he'd had the luck to be assigned to go all the way to Warwick. A Morganian had been causing trouble there, but not much more than he'd been able to handle with a few hours of work. Of course, the black clothes he had chosen for this task weren't helping at all. Still, the heat had come and he was stuck on a long trip.
He felt his eyes travel over to his water skein, although he knew that it was empty. No matter; the sun was quickly becoming obscured by rainclouds and the temperature was going down a great deal. English summers after all. Even so, he was still thirsty. It had been empty for hours, and he should've stopped to refill it. However, he had calculated that he could make Glastonbury well before sunset if he didn't stop.
It turned out that he was right since the city was in sight now, not even a mile away. If he continued after dark then he would be able to make it to Camelot that day, since it really wasn't that far away. He'd be able to get plenty of water at the Keep, which was only a little further than the city.
That is, if the soldiers didn't drink it all first. Since the last month soldiers had been housed at the Keep for strategic purposes. It wasn't that he disliked all of them; some of them reminded him a little of Letholdus in some ways. It was simply that he loathed most of them that caused him to wish that they'd go away.
Generally they were disorderly, never kept curfew, and shouted far into the night. Anyone who wasn't dead-drunk at night, which many of them were, didn't sleep at all. He knew that Merlin was displeased with the situation as well, but had simply done it to set a good example and show loyalty for Gareth. Perhaps that was why what Balthazar was sure was the worst battalion in the army was housed at the Keep; no one else would put up with them.
Then there was the first and foremost reason for his loathing; the way they looked at Veronica. Yes, he was aware that she could handle herself and that these men held no interest for her, nor did any other man save him, as she had told him. He smiled as he thought of that; thirty years old and still acting like he was love-struck at twenty.
However, the fact remained that the soldiers didn't seem to get the picture. The night before he left there had been something of an incident. A captain had made the very stupid mistake of making comments in his presence about Veronica that were decidedly unchivalrous. Balthazar knew he should've taken into consideration the man's drunkenness, but as it happened he was too angry to bother.
The captain soon found himself missing several teeth from a well-aimed punch. Balthazar, while part of him believed that he had taken leave of his senses, had still had the presence of mind to punch him with the hand with all of his rings on it. The scars that would turn up later would be interesting to say the least. Once the first punch had been thrown; Balthazar found himself in a brawl with several of the man's subordinates cheering and placing bets.
Although he had won another soldier had reported this to Merlin. This had earned him a scolding, yes a scolding, from Merlin. After that he had been laughed at by Horvath and privately castigated by Veronica. They had fought for an hour before she had finally smiled, shook her head, rolled her eyes, and started healing the bruises on his face.
Balthazar hoped that word of the incident had gotten around and that people were watching their tongues about her. Fighting just to fight was purposeless and rather beneath him or anyone who had been born to observe the rules of combat. Still, he knew that if anyone said anything like that about Veronica again then he wasn't going to damn well go up to them and slap them with a glove. Instead, he would break their nose.
As he approached the side road that would take him around the city he saw another rider coming up. Shielding his eyes from the sun he thought he recognized the white mare and maroon cloak that the rider was using. It took him only seconds to realize who it was and, laughing, he jumped off of his horse and hurried to meet her.
Veronica was just sliding off her horse when he reached her. Wrapping his arms around her waist he took her off it fully, swinging her about in the air some. He noticed the sword on her hip and smiled. She had come prepared. Then he set her down on her feet and kissed her. She punched his chest playfully with one hand and slid the hood of her cloak down fully with the other.
"And how did you know I was coming back?" he asked.
"Oh, I didn't," she replied, tilting her head back, "I was just on my way to the market in Glastonbury and apparently I ran into a little luck."
He smiled at her before whistling for his horse to come over.
"Then we'll go together."
"Aren't you tired from your trip though?" she asked, concerned.
Balthazar laughed.
"Veronica, love, I could go on for a millennia," he said, "But why go so late?"
"I wasn't going to go at first," she said, getting back on her horse, "But then, well…I just felt that I needed to get out for a bit. It's just stifling to be in the Keep for too long."
Nodding Balthazar got onto his own horse. They talked about everything and nothing on their way into the city. As they went in they were careful to put their hoods up. Sorcerers were becoming continually controversial and he didn't want to get involved in another fight so soon after his last one.
Once they had they had paid for an inn, it would probably be too late once they were done to head back, and had horses tied up securely Veronica began browsing the stalls. She had her hand on Balthazar's, so he was essentially dragged from around the market with her. He really didn't mind, since he had absolutely nothing that he wanted to see there. Shopping in any form was something that he generally preferred to leave to other people.
However, he could plainly see that she enjoyed it. Although she didn't do it then, he knew from past experience that she haggled like a professional, and he could only suppose that she had done this a good deal in her village. Her eyes found wonder in everything. Whenever she found something and pointed it out to him he feigned the emotion as well, although he knew he could never do it as well as she did it.
This was why he loved her; the joy she found in everything. Nothing escaped her notice, nothing at all. She could move with a grace through the crowds, never bumping into anyone or turning anything over. Next to her he felt so clumsy and jaded that he wondered why she persistently held his hand, why she loved him as much as she did.
He shook his head and banished those thoughts. Balthazar felt that if he thought about it all too much then he'd be tempted to discourage her from staying with him in the first place. Yet towards the beginning of their relationship he had discovered one thing; no matter how inferior he felt next to her she obviously found some sort of worth in him. If he denied that then he would be denying her logic, and he respected her too much to do that. Then again, it probably pointed back to him being so incredibly greedy.
Veronica stopped in front of him in a place where the crowds thinned out a little. He stopped too, wondering what it was that she was doing. She took her hood down, as if trying to get a better look at something. He turned his head slightly, trying to gauge why the look in her eyes was so full of longing.
Finally he directed his eyes in the direction that she was looking. A necklace was draped over a stand placed carefully on a stall. It was a fairly popular design, only much more expensive. Even from where he was he could see the pearls on it, the beautiful craftsmanship. Still, he recognized it as something different as well; a betrothal gift.
Generally when a man gave his suit of marriage to a girl's parents he would give her something as a sign of his devotion, or at least of his wealth. It depended if the marriage was arranged or not. The gift was used at the man's formal declaration of intent, although the girl's parents and he, or his parents, had probably been working behind the scenes for months.
Many women at court had necklaces like that, although they didn't wear them so much after they were married. Now that he thought about it many of those women were ones of Veronica's acquaintance. Even Queen Betrice had had one on for awhile. He looked from the necklace to Veronica, then back at the necklace. The look in her eyes was as if she would draw it magnetically to herself through the sheer power of want.
In that moment he decided one thing; the hell with it. To hell with politics and delicate situations that shouldn't be a barrier. He loved this woman who stood beside him and wanted her more than anything. No one should be telling them not to be together the way they wanted to do because some Kings and nobles were fighting a civil war. To hell with it.
They walked some distance away as he tried to think of some way to distract her. His chance came when someone bearing a pitcher of water accidentally tripped. She was drenched, and the bearer of the pitcher apologized profusely. Veronica told him it was fine, then once he had left told Balthazar she'd need to go change.
"I brought the dress that Morgause gave me because it had a rip around the sleeve," she said, "Needed to be repaired and I've never worked with that kind of fabric before. It's just a small tear though, so it'll do until this dries off."
Nodding he told her he'd meet her at the inn soon. Then he hurried to the stall and pointed to the necklace.
"How much?" he asked.
The woman who was running the stall turned around. She was older, maybe in her forties, and her eyes scanned the table until she saw what he was looking for. A smile lit up her face when she recognized the item.
"Two marks," she said.
He dug around in his pocket for the necessary amount. The woman looked surprised that he didn't try to haggle, but smiled broader at his haste. Picking the necklace up he put it into his pocket. Balthazar would give it to her tonight; she'd never see it coming, not at all. Grinning he started to walk away to the inn.
"Balthazar."
In surprise Balthazar turned around to see Horvath looking at him. Puzzled he asked;
"What are you doing here?"
Horvath smirked.
"Finishing up some business."
Before Balthazar could ask exactly what that was he felt himself thrown back violently. He crashed into a stall, breaking it and scattering its wares. Wood dust clouded the air and he coughed, splinters in his hands and his head spinning. People were running away in a powerful crush now, he could hear their screams and their footsteps. Fighting pain he scrambled to his feet, shocked at what had just happened.
"What the hell Maxim?" he demanded.
Horvath's smirk grew. His sword hilt came up and Balthazar cast a shield to defend himself. The fire that came was dispelled and Horvath shrugged it off.
"I was hoping you'd be here," he said, "Thought I could intercept you. For awhile I thought I'd been too late and I would need to postpone it. Good thing I did not. Lady Morgana grows impatient for your death and luck is against you."
Abruptly Balthazar's shield dropped.
"No," he whispered, "Don't tell me-"
"Oh yes Balthazar, five years," Horvath said, "I've been in her service for five years, and I have to say that it has rewarded me far better than doing those miserable little chores for that stupid old man."
Miserable little chores? Stupid old man? Was that what their apprenticeship was being dismissed as? Then the words 'five years' stuck in his mind.
"Wait, five years?" Balthazar asked in growing horror, doing the math.
A wave of fire came towards him again and Balthazar threw up his shield again. It was cracking now; his mind was anything but clear as the situation continued to grow worse.
"Yes, five years," snapped Horvath, "Five years after finding out that I came in second to you in the only thing that mattered; five years since my best friend betrayed me."
"I never betrayed you!" shouted Balthazar.
"Yes you did!" Horvath snarled, lightening coming out of his sword hilt, "And Merlin took your side! Of course he did! Never mattered that I was the first apprentice; not at all! It never mattered that I didn't see things his way; he never tried to let me understand, only ordered me to! Lady Morgana though, she knows that I'm better than you. That's why she sent me to kill you; the Great Balthazar!"
The shield was cracking all over now. It would come down soon if Balthazar didn't do something, but he couldn't think of anything to do. Horvath had been a second brother, a friend who, while they had drifted apart recently, he had always believed he could depend on. Something inside of his soul was cracking, much worse and much more irreparable then his shield.
"Maxim," he said, his voice sounding tinny, "Maxim we grew up together. We blew up the North tower of the Keep the first time we tried to transfigure a chair, fought Mordred and the Orkney brothers in the mud. There was that time we snuck out for a tournament and when we both escaped that ball through the window. We saved Queen Guinevere, fought countless evils, you pulled me out of a fire. Don't you remember that?"
Horvath nodded.
"Yes, yes I do," he said, "But I don't care."
The next attack he sent shattered Balthazar's shield and part of his soul. He was thrown back and lay there, pain coming from every aspect of himself. Horvath approached, holding his sword like it was an actual weapon instead of a magical form of conduction. Balthazar tried to summon up a defensive spell but all he could remember was Horvath helping him improve his sword handling technique when he was twelve.
"Goodbye Balthazar," Horvath said, raising his sword up.
The thrust that was meant to kill him was blocked. In between them stood Veronica, parrying with her sword. She looked murderously at Horvath, digging her feet into the ground and trying to push him backwards. Horvath appeared to be momentarily floored; he hadn't expected her to be there. He quickly recovered.
"Typical," he sneered, "I should've known wherever he was you wouldn't be far behind."
"Don't make me kill you Horvath," she said, her voice trembling with mixed emotions.
"You wouldn't."
"You tell me," she hissed, "You taught me how to use a sword; you know I can kill someone with it."
Her voice became louder as she continued.
"You've just taught me that a friend I once knew died a very long time ago, that bonds can mean nothing; why don't you tell me?"
"Veronica," he said dangerously.
"But what you never taught me what a person can do when protecting what matters to them most!" she shouted, "And right now I can feel like there's nothing I wouldn't do!"
For a moment their standoff continued. Then Horvath swore under his breath.
"You not supposed to die," he said, "That was part of the arrangement. You don't have to die here, just him."
"You kill him and you kill me too," she said, straining to keep her sword locked with his, "And we both know that you're not getting to him without going through me first."
Swearing once more Horvath withdrew. He took off and Veronica aimed a plasma bolt at him. Swinging his sword he deflected it before disappearing behind the city's walls. She immediately turned and knelt next to Balthazar. Veronica felt his forehead and asked him;
"Are you alright?"
He stared at her blankly.
"He betrayed us," he said thickly.
"Beloved-"
"I've known him since I was ten," he said, his voice rising in anger, "Twenty years and he sells his soul to Morgana for the chance to kill me and everything that he knows. To destroy it all. He wouldn't have stopped with me, wants more than just…than just..."
His hand shot up and gripped hers.
"We need to warn Master," he said, "We need to warn him now."
A/N: I know it's kinda crammed in there, but I couldn't resist using the necklace scene. Only one more chapter to go and a prologue to be posted tomorrow.