A Scholar's travels with a Witcher

by Spike368

Sent out to gather the knowledge of the real world. A young scholar from the University of Oxenfurt finds a wounded Witcher on the steps to the inn where he was staying. So he starts gathering the material for his journals. Rated T for language

140. Chapter 140

I often wonder what history will look like when this is all over. When the scholars and historians of the future look back and… barring some invention of someone other than Ciri being able to travel through space and time, I cannot imagine that history will be written any other way than it is now. Which is to look at all the sources on the time in question and choose the account that best fits what else we know.

But when those future historians look back at this period and the events that I have seen. When they gather all the sources and all the accounts of what happened and put it all together to try and find a truth in the middle of all of that that they can believe and that sounds feasible. I wonder what that will look like.

I wonder who it will be that history will decide, woke Sleeping Beauty. I wonder what history will decide about the events regarding the rebirth of the Spider-Queen of Angraal as that has already called into question the histories that were written about her before she was able to put her own side of the story across.

I have already heard of a song being sung in more than one tavern about how Jarl Helfdan and Ciri, star-crossed lovers, dismissed the Skeleton Ship between them. Even now, Francesca's entire life is being rewritten so that she can be the saint that Toussaint, and some say the world, desperately needs in order to be able to find some light in the darkness.

Not that it's particularly dark. It just feels that way sometimes. The world has all but recovered from the wars in all the important ways bar one. The famine is over, the pestilence is over. The outbreak of banditry is being driven back up into the hills, the forests and the marshes by regular patrols of armed men. But entire economies are floundering and it is still taking a lot of time for the world to get back on its feet. Even worse, there is no bad guy to fight against, no enemy to point to and say that they are at fault. Because the bad guys are already defeated.

So I am left wondering how long it will be before Francesca becomes an only child. Some virginal image of purity that the woman herself would not recognise.

How will the Empress' coronation be remembered? How long will it be before the fact that Francesca was part of the entourage of the Empress will be forgotten.

It is impossible to know these things. Impossible. I can only hope that my work will be taken into account when those future scholars settle in to decide what is true and what is not.

The reason I bring this up is that I can absolutely believe that history will remember the destruction of Sir Morgan and the lessening of the traditionalist faction in Toussaint, as being a relatively quick affair. That after the challenge in the courtroom, he and Gregoire armoured up, headed out into the courtyard of the palace and that Gregoire ended the life of the other Knight on the spot. I can also believe that the stories of the women involved will be forgotten. Anne will be the wronged woman (that trope again, I bet the witch of Lynx crag is getting more powerful by the second.) Pure and virginal as history will not like to remember what she had done for a living up to that point.

Freddie's note: I can't remember if I've talked about this before. Professor Dandelion once told me something that I found fairly interesting. He said that in all of the old stories, women fall into two camps. The first is the virginal princess. (Cold, remote and innocent.) The other is the worldly whore (humorous, sexual, wise). Whether the woman is the hero or the villain of the piece will just dictate how these character traits were used. I spent an evening once trying to disprove that claim by coming up with examples from the various stories that I know and he calmly stabbed each suggestion as he pointed out which of the two types the lady fell into.

I imagine Lady Tonlaire will rarely be talked about at all. She will be, not forgotten, not that. I think it is far more likely that she will become a side character. When people ask whether or not Sir Morgan was married people will say "Yes, of course he was." and then move on.

But that's not what happened.

What happened was that Morgan tried to escape the coming duel while trying to appear as though he was accepting it gladly. He didn't do too well at that.

His first ploy was to try and attack the legality of the duel. There are certain things that are required for a duel to happen officially and one of those things was the presence of proper witnesses. Leaving aside the fact that, clearly, the entire court was going to turn up to watch the thing happen, there are still meant to be witnesses for each camp to ensure fair play.

As you will know, they are called seconds. Technically speaking, according to law, a duel that takes place without proper seconds as witnesses is not a duel at all, but rather a brawl, which is criminal in nature and can result in the winner, if they survived in the first place, being hanged for his trouble. The presence, or lack thereof, of seconds is hardly ever commented on. As to why it's necessary, it is something to do with whether or not the duel is of just enough cause that other men would turn up and help a man fight for it. In theory, seconds would fight the duels in the place of the principal if no-one shows up. A clause that is hardly ever invoked as a person who knows that they are going to lose is much more likely to just turn up and get it over with.

It is certainly not a commonly made excuse as it is thought to demonstrate the heights of cowardice. Guess which point of law Morgan tried to hide behind.

"This is preposterous." Morgan protested. "Who would be willing to be seconds to such an absurd claim? This is an insult of the highest order. What man would put his name next to a matter of such ridiculousness. Who would back the word of a whore on behalf of the Brute of Beauclair? A well known bully, rapist and murderer."

It was not his first mistake. Nor would it be his last. But it was a mistake.

Gregoire's face darkened. "I hope you have proof to back up your claims of rape and murder." He said. "Otherwise, even if it is ruled that I cannot kill you on my fiance's behalf, I will certainly kill you on my own."

Sir Morgan licked his lips. He was scrabbling, stuttering and sweating. "Who would put their name next to a cause such as this one. It is ludicrous to expect that…"

"I will." Guillaume called, stepping forward. His wife, Lady Vivienne, stood a little behind him, beaming with pride. "This cause seems just to my eyes and the only reason that you are not fighting me on the ladie's behalf instead, is because Sir Gregoire was faster. Such are the benefits of love I suppose."

The court laughed. Getting behind Guillaume and Gregoire, even if the bigger man misread the laughter for a moment.

"I am honoured." He said to Guillaume. "We are not friends you and I, so I did not feel as though I could ask."

"Pssh." Guillaume grinned and waved his hand dismissively. "I am a Knight. It is my right and duty to support any cause that I feel is just. Just as it is your right and duty to take the lady into your care. As I say, I feel that your cause is just. As for friendship? Do please assume it. I would be glad to call a man who would do what you did today, my friend."

It was a small speech. Butchered from the original effort that was, almost certainly, fed to Guillaume by his wife beforehand which would almost have mirrored Gregoire's speech perfectly. But it had a profound effect on Gregoire who nodded his gratitude to the other Knight.

"There you are Sir Morgan. I have a second."

"The law requires…"

"Oh for the love of the prophets." Gregoire groaned. "Will anyone else serve as my second?" His eyes fell on me. "Lord Frederick. I know that you are the wronged party here and you have no reason to love me. But the rumours of my supposed crimes might mean that others…"

"I would be glad to serve Sir Knight." I said with as ringing a tone as I could manage. The events of the past two days, as well as the effort involved in getting Gregoire to act were catching up with me. Admittedly, I did not realise that at the time. I never do.

Gregoire nodded. "So I have my seconds Morgan. Who are yours? I notice that it is now you that is struggling for witnesses."

Morgan paled and called a couple of friends forward who looked a little sheepish and ashamed to be so used.

But that wasn't the only ploy that was used. Guillaume and I went to work almost immediately in order to gather our… principle's dictates for the coming duel. He didn't care a great deal about it very much. He wanted an apology to Anne from both Morgan and his wife, on their knees, followed by them both turning over any information that they might have gathered to Syanna and her duly appointed representatives.

That last bit was an afterthought.

The rest of it? He didn't really care about it. He didn't care if Morgan wanted to fight bare-chested or fully armoured. He didn't care if he wanted to fight with maces, swords, bows, lances or… and this is a quote "fucking desert spoons."

So during the preparations and the negotiating phase of the duel, which all happened in court, before the court and the Duchess, Morgan began to play another strategem.

"My friend." One of Morgan's seconds began. "Requests that the duel take place in the morning so that he be properly allowed to put his affairs in order."

"No." Guillaume said. "This is regarding a criminal affair and a matter of treason. For all we know, "putting his affairs in order" will be an effort to hide what evidence there still is to be found. Or to gain time to flee."

"My Friend would never flee from a fight. As exhibited by the fact that he is wanting the duel to be to the death."

"So that he can avoid the worst punishments for treason when it is proven." Guillaume said.

"That's as maybe," The Second commented. Yes, I am protecting his identity, he seemed an ok sort for the court of Toussaint. He had not come to our attention as part of the investigation. He seemed like an older man who was enjoying the slow and gentle slide into retirement. "But nevertheless, my friend insists on the delay."

Guillaume and I looked at each other. Both of our instincts went against this but, the honour of the matter meant that we were acting on behalf of Gregoire and we needed to check.

He laughed at us both in a loud, booming and hungry way when we told him about Morgan trying to play for time. He was pacing behind us all as he waited for the negotiations to continue. He looked like a caged animal.

"No." He said. "This happens now. I will not allow Anne to suffer on these indignities for a moment longer than I can arrange it."

He stepped past us.

"Have you forgotten your code of chivalry and Knighthood Morgan." He said. "Our oaths to the Duchess. We are required to be ready for duty at all times. Required to be ready to fight at a moment's notice for precisely this type of reason. So that a quarrel between Knights will disadvantage the Duchess for as small a time as possible. So that our service will be delayed for as small a time as possible. We are required to be prepared to fight a duel, at any time, in any place, for any reason. Merchants, craftsmen and unknighted nobles can request delays and make appointments because they serve in other ways."

It felt like he was quoting something.

"But we are Knights," Gregoire finished. "Oathsworn, anointed and charged with our duties. You should be ready now, this instant. I am ready. Why aren't you?"

"He's right." Syanna called. "That is why Knights wear their armour and weapons to court after all. So that they can leave on a quest at a moment's notice. It would seem that the Brute of Beauclair knows more about being a Knight than you do Sir Morgan."

There was laughter and I saw the barb strike home.

"A tradition." Morgan stuttered. "A tradition that is…"

"I am ready, should the Duchess choose to call on me." Gregoire shouted. "Why aren't you?"

"Who takes such things seriously?" Morgan protested again.

"I do." Guillaume said. "Apart from anything else, how else would I protect the Duchess from the assassin's blade if I am not armed and armoured.

"So do I," said a voice and I was astonished to see Sir Raoul standing, fishing around in his mostly empty paper bag.

Morgan looked at Sir Raoul in horror.

The matter was decided soon after that and the entire court trotted out to the winter sunlight. It was afternoon by that point and I watched the sun falling towards the horizon with a slow, sinking feeling.

But I didn't have time for that, I nodded at Guillaume who was leading Sir Gregoire out to the courtyard by way of the armoury so that his proper armaments could be fetched.

Sword, shield and so forth.

I caught him before he vanished entirely though. "Take your time." I said. "Still a couple of games to play."

"I did not enjoy being one of your playthings Lord Frederick." He admonished me.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I can explain everything, but later. The entire thing hinges on making Gregoire out to be the hero and for that, there are a few other things that need to be arranged. Otherwise the crowd turns on him and therefore us. So take your time. Make sure he looks good and shiny."

He glared at me for a while. Then his face slackened as he looked over at the huge figure of Gregoire that was pacing up and down. "I have misjudged him." He said sadly. "Badly."

"If it makes you feel any better, you are in good company." I told him. The entire country, indeed the entire world has agreed with you up until this point. You can apologise to him later. But I guarantee that he won't mind. He will even be astonished that you care."

"How did you see it?"

"Guillaume, I love you, and I swear that I will tell you later. I will even tell you how ignorant and stupid you have been if it will make you feel better to have someone harrangue you, but for the right here and right now of the matter. You need to get him ready to fight and I need to get Anne into position. I will join you as soon as I can."

As I have said before, Guillaume is one of those people that wears his heart on his sleeve. His expressions showed me what he was thinking easily. I saw impatience, anger, self-recrimination, rueful acceptance, amusement and then determination.

"I will see you there."

He headed off to join Gregoire who was all but dancing with impatience.

I dashed over to my family who were clustered around a weeping and whimpering Anne. had had to sit her down on the steps to the throne because there was a real sense that she wouldn't be able to stand up otherwise.

Emma and Laurelen had their arms round the sobbing woman while Mark, Kerrass and Lady Vivienne stood around and hid her from view.

Syanna and the Duchess were nearby in close conversation.

Anne saw me first. "What… What is happening? Why did he do that? Why is this happening? What… What do I do?"

She was a woman on the edge of hysterics if ever I've seen one.

"Anne?" I said, sinking to my knees in front of her. "Anne? I need you to look at me. Anne?"

She nodded and stared at me, blinking furiously. "Why did he do that?" She asked between sobs. "What is happening?"

"I do not have a lot of time." I told her. "Nor do we as a whole. But in short. Sir Gregoire is about to fight for your life as well as, I think, his own soul. In doing so, we are going to defeat an enemy of the Duchess and one of the more powerful forces against change in the Duchy."

"He didn't mean that?" She was talking about Gregoire and I realised that I was losing her. She was looking at the piece of golden wire that was on her finger. "He can't have meant that."

"My assessment is that he meant every word." Mark muttered audibly.

"Anne?" I tried again. "Our victory is not yet assured. Anne?"

"Why did he do that?" She moaned.

"Because he loves you." I tried. "I think he always has. And if you try and tell me that you don't love him back I am going to call you a liar."

I tried to make it a joke but I think she was too far gone. Her face was crumpling and she wailed with enough emotion mixed into the middle of it that it brought a lump to my own throat. There was despair in that voice as well as a deep grief that I could not fathom.

"Dammit." I swore.

"What do you need Freddie?" Emma wondered. "This is your play."

"She needs to be the Princess." I commented.

"What?"

"In the story of this moment," I said. "She needs to be the virginal Princess that Gregoire is fighting for. We need a plain white dress, her hair needs brushing out. She needs subtle makeup to make her look as though she isn't wearing any at all. And she needs a scarf, something light and floaty."

"What, why?" Mark's voice.

"I get it." Emma said rising to her feet.

"So do I." Vivienne said. "Let's get her to my rooms. We do not have a lot of time. Although, where we are going to find a plain white dress?"

"I might have one that will serve." The Duchess approached.

"Why are you all doing this?" Anne wailed again.

"Fuck it." Kerrass muttered and gestured. White light danced around Anne's head as she calmed instantly.

There was one of those moments when we all turned to glare at Kerrass. "What?" He said. "Come on, you all needed it to happen and there is not a lot of time. You can all yell at me later."

"I was not far off doing something similar myself." Ariadne commented as she got one of Anne's arms over her shoulder.

"I will go and hold them up." Syanna headed to the courtyard. "I can get all, legal and delay things."

"Apart from anything else, I want to see this." The Duchess called as she helped lever the dazed looking courtesan to her feet.

Syanna waved to say that she had heard while she was heading for the door.

"I should go as well." I said. "I have duties to perform after all." I headed to the door before turning back. "And don't forget the scarf."

"We won't." Vivienne called as she was leading the party towards her quarters.

"Freddie wait," Ariadne was next to me in a flash and kissed me soundly before I got a chance to react. "Proud of you." She told me before leaving with the others.

Nothing quite like the love of a good woman to keep you strong.

I sprinted through the palace, picking up my spear and belly knife as I went. Not that I was expecting trouble, but you never know and the truth was that it didn't occur to me to not have my weapons with me.

Toussaint has many, many different aspects to it. One of the things that has surprised me about the place is that… honestly… and I hope that neither group of people gets too offended at this. But one of the things that has been constantly surprising is how similar they are to Skellige in many ways.

And before readers in either part of the continent get so offended that they stop reading. Apparently my readership is not large enough to be able to be cavalier about offending different people. Let me explain.

Both groups of people enjoy a good party and both of them can organise a party, or a feast, at the smallest hint of the need of such a thing. Both have their own code of honour. Both of them have rules that seem to govern their way of life and have rigid caste structures that govern the world that they live in.

While also elevating and hero worshipping those that manage to break free of such. But that's a different argument for a different day.

And they both love stories. Skellige is the land of saga and legend where Toussaint is called the fairy tale kingdom. Not so different really.

Apart from everything else, the similarities are also a factor.

But the other things that they have in common is that they are prepared for a fight, or a duel at the moment's notice. There are rules to go with it all that are also remarkably similar in both cases, but also, everyone wants to see it. The difference between the two, is… organisation. For Skellige, it can happen at the drop of a hat. But for Toussaint? It needs organising. And naturally, there are servants to organise it.

In the time from the duel being announced, they had literally set up stands in the courtyard so that more people could be there to see it. There were wooden frames with steps and chairs and everything. They looked obscenely heavy. Impossible to get it set up in such a short period of time. I actively stopped and came to a skidding halt as I sprinted through the courtyard so that I could stop and see if the entire thing was on wheels.

It wasn't.

Even if it was in parts originally, getting them all into place and reassembled must have taken an extraordinary amount of effort in so quickly.

I looked around briefly before I heard my name called. Guillaume was off in one of the corners outside a pavilion, waving to me and I jogged over. As I did so, I could see Syanna arguing with a bunch of people. I recognised the Ducal herald in the group of people as well as a couple of representatives of the court.

"How's everything going?" I asked Ariadne through our link as I jogged over.

"What? Oh, slowly, far too slowly. We've got her out of the dress and into a bath. Part of the problem is that she's freaking out about the fact that one of the people scrubbing her clean is the Duchess of Toussaint."

A flash of a memory of Anne's naked body crossed my mind and I did my best to squash it as ruthlessly as I could.

"Don't worry about it Freddie." Ariadne told me. "You're only human. One day it will be my naked body that you think about."

She deliberately sent an image of her examining herself in a mirror.

"That was mean." I told her.

"Yes." She admitted. "Just so long as you can stay focused. She will be there. Just keep your man on target. He might be as good a man as you suggest but there is a terrible violence in him."

I nodded, I had skidded to a halt outside of Gregoire's pavilion.

"I won't keep you." I told her. "I love you an awful lot."

"I know. I love you too."

"And don't forget the scarf."

She laughed at me and went back to sorting out Anne's intended clothing.

"How are we doing?" I asked as Guillaume led me into the tent.

"Good actually." He told me. "Gregoire's a bit bemused about the entire thing."

"Is that Lord Frederick?" The man himself called.

"The very one." I called and walked in to find him being dressed by a number of armoured men. I recognised Guillaume's squire as well as a couple of the other squire's that I had seen around the place.

"I would normally do all of this myself before a fight." He grumbled. "But I will admit that it is not unpleasant to have people doing it for me."

Another Toussaint feature was in the corner of the room. A drinks table and I went over to pour myself a drink to restore some energy. Thirsty work all of this being romantic.

"Well take your time." I told the squires. "Make sure that it's all in place good and solid. Don't rush."

"What's happening?" Guillaume demanded in my ear.

I filled him in on what the plan was as I looked around. Once again, the sheer size of the man in question was like a hammer blow to the face. There was a sword in the corner, a broadsword pattern that was easily as long as Kerrass' own sword that he uses two hands to wield. As well as that was a huge two handed sword that was resting in a stand on a table nearby. It looked impossibly big.

"Try and lift it." Guillaume smirked. He had guessed what I was looking at. "I have and I needed both hands at the balance points"

"With your permission Sir Gregoire?" I wondered.

"What? Oh yes, of course." He had been in conversation with one of the squires about armour straps and proper seating of something. "Lift away. Everyone tries."

"You should charge by the attempt." I told him. "Donate the proceeds to a church or a hospital or something."

He considered this. "I hadn't thought of that."

I couldn't lift the sword.

"Brute of a thing." Gregoire commented from the corner. "I wouldn't use it but people expect it of me now. The Brute of Beauclaire hammering away at better men with his ugly sword." The way he spoke seemed off hand. Quiet, as though he had his mind on other things.

Guillaume caught my eye and nodded towards the entrance of the tent and we left to let Gregoire get on with things.

"Bit cloudy for it." I commented. And I was right, the cloud cover was getting thick.

"A bit better for all of that." Guillaume said. "That way no-one would be able to claim that the sun shone off someone's armour and blinded the other."

"Yes, but I rather fancied sun beams to shine down on Anne as she watches." I sighed and gave voice to a small fear. "Gregoire will win this won't he?" The way I said it, almost sounded like a prayer.

Guillaume laughed. "There is always an element in any fight." He said. "Always a chance, another reason that cloud cover is good. There will not be a frost for either man to slip on. But you have never seen the Gorgon fight before have you."

"I have not."

"It will be something to see." He told me.

The courtyard filled with astonishing speed. Word had gotten out that things were happening I suppose and as a result of that, people that hadn't wanted to come to the courtroom to share in Sir Morgan's madness, did want to see him getting destroyed. As we watched and waited for things to get started, we could see a nigh on constant stream of messengers heading down into the city letting various people know about what was happening.

The palace Grooms were doing a roaring trade. A large number of merchants were arriving as well. Any chance to be able to rub shoulders with the movers and shakers of Toussaint politics. To see and to be seen at the highest political events of the land. So as a result, people were streaming in on horseback. All of those horses needed taking somewhere and so the palace Grooms would come rushing out to do little more than take the horses bridle and lead the poor beast off somewhere. And because this was Toussaint, each time this was done, the groom would be given a coin by the noble or merchant that was leaving his horse in the care of someone else.

My father would have been outraged.

As a result of this, the Grooms would probably stand to make quite a bit of money for very little work as there was no banquet planned for the evening. No ball or anything of that nature. I mean there probably was one somewhere in the Duchy but there certainly wasn't one at the palace. Someone had pointed out that it might be seen as bad taste for the Duchess and her peers to be seen partying while there was a serial killer on the loose. So what that meant was that as soon as the Duel was over, then all of those horses would need to be produced back out. They would not have had time to be desaddled or brushed down or anything. So in all likelihood, they were being released into another secure courtyard where they would spend the time eating the Duchess' rosebushes.

Beyond that, the assembling… There really is no other word for it that adequately describes what was happening. The assembling crowd were milling around, having drinks and nibbles brought to them by palace servants that had, like the grooms, risen to the occasion.

I felt an odd kind of conflict in my heart. I said earlier that there are many similarities between Toussaint culture and Skelligan culture. This is true. But now I was seeing a difference and I didn't like Toussaint's version of it.

In Skellige, a duel is a solemn occasion. It is a time for passions and the ultimate culmination of honour. So there is certainly a buzz in the crowd of people that are waiting for honour to be fulfilled, but mostly they are treating the fact that someone is, very probably, about to die with the respect that the event deserves. They wait, jostle for position a bit and then watch and listen. To be sure, they would be the first to cheer and applaud a well fought duel. But it is a matter of respect rather than an excuse to do other things.

Whereas Toussaint was getting ready for this as though it was another form of entertainment. I didn't like that. That was what Tournaments were for. That is a martial sport for entertainment purposes. It is also very different. Over and over again, as Kerrass would be amongst the first to point out, the difference between a Tournament fight or a sport piece of fencing, and an actual struggle for survival, are completely different. The thing that got my hackles up here, more than a little bit, was that this was treated as an extension of the court. It was… it wasn't about the fact that a duel was taking place where someone might die, let alone the fact that the future of Toussaint might change. This was just a passing entertainment to some of these people. Something to watch while they discussed trade deals, the coming parties, balls and tournaments.

It was as though the fighting and the reasons behind that duel beginning in the first place, were the least important parts of it,

This was made even more prevalent when people started to approach Guillaume and I in an effort to play politics. It seemed that there was little doubt in popular sentiment as to who was actually going to win the duel, but people wanted to capitalise on the expected victory. I was literally told to pass on this message to Sir Gregoire.

"Please could you convey my warmest regards to Sir Gregoire. Tell him that I am looking forward to seeing him trounce that fool Morgan. I have always said that there was more to this "Brute of Beauclair" nonsense than people were letting on. Very unfair I thought to paint a man in such hues of villainy without proof or proper evidence. We are supposed to be a reasoning scientific people after all. Will you tell him that?"

"I will," I lied. "I promise that I will tell him all of that."

"Excellent. Tell him that I would dearly like to have him and his new betrothed over for dinner at some point. Perhaps the day after tomorrow. You are invited of course Lord Frederick and maybe bring your lovely fiance with you?"

"I cannot commit myself." I told the man. "I am likely to still be dealing with the business that led to this combat. I will convey your message and invitation to Sir Gregoire although I would suggest that he will have other things on his mind at the moment and over the next few days. So I would not anticipate a swift, or a positive acceptance if I were you."

"Yes of course, of course. But please convey my earlier message."

"I will." I lied again.

That was early enough that Guillaume wasn't yet dealing with his own enquiries on this matter. He told me that I handled that well and that there was no way that Guillaume would respond to all of that in the positive. Apparently the offending idiot had made it well known that Gregoire was a villain and deserved to be treated as such.

"Yes." I responded. "I also noticed that he invited Ariadne and myself as well. So a dinner party where he would almost certainly remind Gregoire, over and over again that Anne had gone from my bed to his. And then reminded Ariadne that she had a competitor for my affections."

Guillaume considered this.

"I have changed my mind." He declared. "You should accept the invitation. You should take Ariadne and Anne together and then watch as the idiot and his insipid wife tie themselves in knots while they figure out that you have Gregoire's undying friendship and that Ariadne and Anne are working on becoming fast friends."

I laughed at the image.

But then it started to get more intense.

We could see the other pavilion on the opposite corner of the courtyard where Sir Morgan was making his own preparations. There was still some traffic of people coming in and out of that tent. He didn't seem to have any kind of monitors or gatekeepers needed on his tent though, or maybe he didn't want them. Not for me to question either way. I wondered if he was trying to politicise his coming defeat and probably, his death.

I didn't think so. He had portrayed himself as being afraid and I more than thought it was more likely that he would be just trying to get into the headspace of the coming fight, or trying to think of new ways to back out of it. I could easily imagine him doing his best to brainstorm with his wife as to what he should do or how they could get out of this mess.

I knew the answer of course. There is always an answer.

If survival was the goal then he would apologise, he would be on his knees begging for forgiveness, but I couldn't see that happening. It would mean that his wife would be guilty in the eyes of the court and the land. For spying on me? Probably an exile of some kind, but for spying on the Duchess? That is treason no matter which way you cut it. So she would be for the headsman.

So the quickest and easiest way out of it would be to let Gregoire kill him. Nice and quickly, let the death be as brutal as possible. The wife, Lady Tonlaire would then be able to blame her husband for everything. That would depend on the evidence that Anne had, and how she had pointed out Lady Tonlaire, but nevertheless, it could be done. She could easily say that she was forced to do it to avoid her husband's disgrace or something similar. And there would be no gainsaying her because her husband, therefore the offending party, would be dead.

I looked to see if I could find the woman in question. She was already on the stands themselves before a seat. She was standing as still as a statue and, for all intents and purposes, she was ignoring the entire affair. She seemed calm, reserved and unruffled. If I concentrated, I believed that I could see how her stance could go either way. She was making herself a mirror for people to project their own interpretations onto. So if people wanted to believe her innocent of the charges, then that could certainly be seen in the figure of the woman standing before us. But likewise, if you wanted to believe that she was a diabolical mastermind, then that could be seen here too in the fact that she was clearly uncaring about what was about to happen.

I found that I was looking forward to the impending interrogation of her. One way or another, she would be answering some very insistent questions.

Syanna was doing well. Demanding that the field be cleared of all obstacles. She had even more servants sweeping the courtyard so that no debris was going to be in the way. She was also arguing with one of Morgan's seconds. The poor man, who I didn't get to know, was doing his best to save his friend's life. Coming up with reason after reason why the duel should not go ahead but Syanna was destroying every argument. The terms had actually been settled rather quickly and having been settled, there was nothing that could be done. But the poor man tried anyway.

Then the fanfare sounded.

"We're on our way." Ariadne told me. I nodded and passed the message over to Guillaume who stopped being polite with the people that were trying to get into the tent. Gregoire had been fully fitted with his armour some time ago and now he had just done some warm-up exercises in the huge, massive armour that he was wearing. Gregoire poked his head into the tent to speak to him while I continued to watch.

After the last echoes of the fanfare died away, the courtiers finally started to take their seats. It was a slow, agonising process and Syanna was getting visibly annoyed with the entire process. It was not lost on her, just as it was not lost on me, that the sun was still continuing, inexorably, towards the horizon and we did not have a lot of time before sunset. We needed this done. We needed this over with so that we could interrogate Lady Tonlaire and find out what she knew so that we could prevent another death. And now we were being held up by the fact that people couldn't be bothered to stop gossiping and take their seats properly.

Then the fanfare sounded again and people started to get the message and properly get into place.

One day, I will meet the director of the fanfare. I want to meet them and ask them a series of questions. Like, "How exactly do you make it so that the fanfare sounds impatient?"

The crowd were still remarkably slow to get to their places though. Lone people showing their reluctance to finish previous conversations in the middle of their… whatever. Last few stragglers commandeering drinks and small snacks from the various attendants. They will not be happy to hear this, but they reminded me of a group of children being told to take their seats as the priest begins his religious instruction. Or students getting into place when the lecturer walks into the lecture hall. You know the thing, where people are reluctant to let go of the conversation that they were having with a member of the opposite sex.

I watched Lady Tonlaire. Not to see what she was doing. She had already proven that she was adept at the courtier's mask. The facial expression that you wear when you want to avoid letting people know what you're thinking. What I was looking for were the people that were going over to her in order to wish her well. Who was giving her words of encouragement, that kind of thing.

It was not as many as I had expected but at the same time, she was not sitting alone. There were other people near her that I took to be some kind of knitting circle that she was part of. Her nearest and dearest. Friends or even family members.

I realised that I had fallen into a trap with this woman. I didn't believe that she was part of the Jack conspiracy, not really. I still found it difficult to believe that a woman could be part of something like that. To do that to women requires a certain level of hatred, or worse, indifference to the female gender that I rather thought, or hoped, could only be achieved by a male.

But I had taken her for granted. She was the wife of a powerful, expressive and outspoken man. She faded into the background, didn't say much and so, automatically, I had dismissed her. And lo and behold, she had turned out to be one of my more powerful enemies.

There is a lesson there. One that I thought I had learned before but it seemed as though I needed to learn it again. I could always claim the excuse that I had been injured and that I was still sick, but that did not… remove the fact that I had made this mistake and that I had nearly paid for it with my life.

Yes. This game is played on that level.

Syanna moved to the centre of the courtyard and turned up to where we were now expecting the Duchess' party.

But first there was another spectacle. Ariadne and Emma led Anne out to the stands where a seat had been reserved for them near the front. This, a position of honour, was kept for her on the grounds that it was her honour that was being protected here and as such, the people of Toussaint seemed to think that it was important that a person watch closely when their lives tumble down around their ears.

I looked at Anne for a moment before I had to turn away. The ladies in my life had done me proud.

I have never met an Elven princess. It's the kind of thing that you never actually get to do, but if you could conjure up the image of what that would look like, then this was what they had produced. She was wearing a white, demure dress. Quilted against the cold but it was one of those, almost old fashioned now, long flowing affairs. Since the Empress has displayed a taste for practical clothing, coats, trousers and boots as well as skirts, that has been the direction that women's fashion has gone in. But whoever had chosen Anne's wardrobe had gone in the other direction.

As I say, it was long, floaty, demure and chaste looking. There were the long sleeves that flap about that also displayed an inner lining of deep, forest green. The dress was simple in it's elegance and I could easily believe that it had come from the Duchess' wardrobe as the Duchess had threatened.

Although I never found out for sure where the dress had come from.

It was all held together at the waist by a green sash of the same shade as the dress' lining. She wore a green choker at her neck and although I could not see it clearly, there was something that glittered on it. Her hair had clearly been brushed so that it hung loose down her back. There is an art to that kind of thing, or so many of the women in my life have told me. You can't just brush it and expect it to lie like that. It takes hours of work. I thought, again, that I could see the efforts of the Duchess' hair stylist.

Of course she has one.

I looked and I saw that there was a green scarf that was draped around her shoulder.

"Thank you." I sent to Ariadne.

"It was a close run thing," she told me. "Finding a dress, scarf, and sash that all matched. Would you believe that we were caught up by a servant who was chasing us with it flapping in the wind?"

"I would actually." I responded.

Anne looked pale though. Ashen faced. Still beautiful but plainly terrified. The red of her face from the weeping had been disguised with clever cosmetics. Something to do with the use of green to cancel out the red apparently although I couldn't tell you why that works.

But she was visibly trembling. I could see Emma whispering in one ear and I could easily imagine my sister leading the other woman through events carefully. Ensuring that Anne didn't trip over anything as she moved while also keeping her mind off all of the assembled people that were watching her. Even despite Emma's guiding hand, I saw Anne stumble a couple of times.

Ariadne had weaponised a glare. She was glaring around herself while she held Anne's hand and supported the majority of her weight. As it was, Anne was leaning on my fiancee with a not small amount of weight and I could well imagine the white knuckled grip that was going on there. But Ariadne had appointed herself as Anne's champion. Not literally as Gregoire was doing that function. But it was more that, any time someone looked, or even suggested as though they were looking down on Anne, Ariadne would glare at them before the offending idiot would quail in terror before the wrath of the elder Vampire.

It is still, sometimes difficult to read what Ariadne is thinking. But in this case? I rather thought that she was enjoying herself.

They led Anne into place and sat on either side of her with Laurelen taking a seat on the other side of Emma.

Then there was another fanfare and everyone stood up again anyway. The Duchess was making her entrance.

I really must make a note to hunt down someone who leads those fanfares. I mean, who composes them all apart from anything else. Can you imagine writing a fanfare with all the harmonies in place to try and suggest a proper regal atmosphere. Something designed to get the people out of their seats and into a standing position. Only to get one of the harmony lines wrong?

Also, where do these people practice? They have to practice at some point. But where do they do that? I have never once been wandering through a palace or a castle to find a room where there's a dozen or so people wearing everyday clothes, practising their fanfares. The sound must be devastating after all.

The Duchess was making her entrance. She had also had a quick costume change. Nothing too overt. A similar golden dress only an outside version that was cut for warmth. She was also wearing a shawl as a sop to the fact that it was still quite cold outside. She was accompanied by Lady Vivienne who was wearing one of her official frocks. Apparently she has several.

I know these things because Guillaume was offering a commentary in my ear. Apparently, as one of the most senior attendants to the Duchess, Lady Vivienne was often wearing outfits that were used as statements. As the Duchess herself could not have too varied a wardrobe, it was up to her "ladies" to do that for her. As a result, Lady Vivienne had a mourning frock, several "angry" frocks although they came to varying degrees. A happy frock as well as numerous others. She also had to keep fashions of the various countries that she might visit. The Duchess was always the Duchess of Toussaint, but her ladies would often have to dress according to the fashions of Toussaint, or the various countries of the North depending on which embassy they were visiting.

In this case, this particular frock was one of "stern regality" with overtones of "contained and simmering wrath". One of the things that Guillaume would complain about was that his wife had thrown out most of his old wardrobe and completely rebuilt it from the ground up. He had a most comedic face on him when he gave me the following gem.

"Apparently there are some occasions where it is not acceptable for a gentleman to be wearing armour." He was most disgusted as he said that. Not able to immediately think of one for himself.

I didn't tease him for this. Sometimes a target is just too easy.

The Duchess came down and moved to her steps with all of the stately regality of a warship. And she slid into position just as easily. She signalled to Syanna before gesturing to a waiting servant to bring her a drink.

"Seconds?" Syanna called. Which meant us. Guillaume and I moved over to where Syanna waited for us. We got there first as it seemed that Morgan was still talking to his seconds.

"How's he doing?" Syanna wondered of us.

Guillaume shrugged slightly. Not enough so that the crowd could see us. Again, it was a little astonishing to me how a man could be so worldly wise in certain areas, while also being utterly naive in others. "He's fine. Kind of wanting to get this all over with. A little bemused to find himself the hero for once."

"I have to admit that I did not see this coming." Syanna was pacing a little, the sound of her armour covering her words as she paced, one hand tucked behind her back and the other resting on her sword hilt. "How did you manage it Lord Frederick?"

"It was not hard." I muttered. "You have all been seeing what Gregoire has wanted you to see for far too long. The fact that he didn't actually know how to do anything else was a problem. But if any of you had bothered to look into it a little, I suspect that you would have been astonished to find a good man."

"But why didn't he join the Knights when I offered?"

"I don't know." I suggested. "It might be money. I don't know but I suspect that his jousting is the only way that he knows how to make money. It is possible that the fact that he could make money from the questing simply never occurred to him. The other option is that he simply didn't think he deserved the position."

"I have a lot to think about then." Syanna commented, frowning in thought before turning towards Sir Morgan's tent with a gesture of impatience.

"Come gentlemen." She called. "Your delay is unseemly."

One of the two came out and made a placating gesture.

"Your opponent is ready." Syanna said. "Why are you not?"

With that rebuke, that man put his head into the tent and said something. The other second came forth at a jog as though he had quickly run out before slowing to the sedate walk that is properly expected.

Syanna paced a little, taking the time to turn her back on the audience and the approaching seconds of Sir Morgan. She winked at us as she did so, which prompted a snort of disapproval from Guillaume. I don't know though. Was it inappropriate? Absolutely but I found that I couldn't blame Syanna for looking forward to the coming display.

I found that I felt sorry for the other two seconds though. It was not their fault that they suddenly found themselves on the side of the villain. A situation that they were obviously unused to, and uncomfortable with. And in any other case, a duel between Morgan and Gregoire, they would have been the plucky underdog heroes taking the fight to the villainous giant.

The slower one of the two was outright stunned as the crowd literally booed him. His look of confusion was pronounced.

"Finally Gentlemen." Syanna said when they got there. "I must say that I am rather displeased with the delays. This is a matter of Ducal security that needs to be addressed and every second that is delayed is another second that the Duchy's enemies are free to cause mischief."

Guillaume cleared his throat. "We would draw the Duchess' representative's attention to the fact that the Gentleman that I represent in this matter was ready some time ago. That the delay is not his, nor our, fault."

"That has been noted." Syanna responded.

The other two men squirmed a little. It was in exactly the same way that time wasting students squirmed when caught out by a lecturer. I have been that person on more than one occasion and I could recognise the movements.

"Further to this," Syanna went on. "The Duchess will not tolerate extended negotiations. This matter has gone on long enough and further delays are cruel. Especially as, on the outcome of this duel, the future of two women rests. Not just the future of the two duellists. Prolonging this matter further will be seen, by the ducal crown, as being cruel and even should they be the victor, they will know the Duchess' displeasure. Am I understood?"

We all nodded.

"Very well. I must formally ask the terms of the duel."

One of Morgan's seconds cleared his throat. "I don't suppose the matter could be settled with a contest of first blood?"

I don't think he expected it to go anywhere. It had the feeling of something that he had to say to just get it out of the way.

Guillaume laughed at him. "This is a matter of honour. My Gentleman is willing to lay down his life for the defence of the lady's honour. Does your gentleman value the honour of his lady less? If so then he is a coward and is further insulting both ladies in question. I feel sure that I would be forced to demand satisfaction on those ladies behalf if that avenue is pursued. I would do that anyway except my friend has the first claim. Such a request is only a further example of your friend's abject cowardice and lack of general…"

"Yes yes, they will do." Syanna jumped in. "Apart from anything else this is something that the Duchess was clear on. The matter includes an accusation of treason. Simply letting the matter go with a duel to the first blood would make for a dangerous precedent for the future. Therefore I am invoking Ducal oversight on the matter. The Duel will continue to the death, inability to continue, or to the yielding. I was hoping to avoid having to do so, on the grounds that I was expecting both parties to act with proper honour in this matter. Another point against your gentleman." She said to the two, openly squirming nobles. "Also, shame gentlemen. This is not a contest. This is not a sport for the entertainment of the masses. This is a duel for the honour of the realm."

"Yes of course." The poor man whimpered in the face of Syanna's wrath. And her artfully increased volume so that the rebuke would carry to the crowds. "A slip of the tongue. I apologise."

"Understandable." Syanna relented on him. "I have little doubt as to who was at fault there. You gentlemen should know that, should this go against either side, that the seconds are acknowledged to be faultless in this matter."

The other two men nodded gratefully.

"I cannot speak for my companion." I said. Not really wanting these men to be let off the hook yet. "But I share the right honourable gentleman that I represent's, outrage and I also share his cause."

"As do I." Guillaume added. "Indeed, The only reason that your man is not fighting me is that my Friend was quicker off the mark."

"Gentlemen." Syanna snapped. "This bickering is pointless and is, once again, leading to delays. Now... weapons?"

The other noble, who was looking at his feet. "The Gentleman wishes to be carrying his coat of arms. Therefore we ask for weapon and shield versus whatever your gentleman wishes."

Guillaume and I looked at each other. "That is acceptable." I said.

"Very well." Syanna said. "And finally then, I must ask if this is necessary. Would either of you back down or offer terms for this duel to be avoided. Both parties should be aware that backing down may lead to legal consequences."

"The Gentleman that I represent demands a full apology." Guillaume got in fast. "A full apology to be delivered, on their knees to the lady that was wronged and her son, by both Lord and Lady Tonlaire. The apology will be public before court as well as in a public venue so that all of Toussaint can see that justice be done, no matter the station of the criminal or the victim. After which, Lord and Lady Tonlaire will deliver themselves to the Duchess' judgement for whatever the Duchy requires of them. They will serve without complaint and without question."

Our opposite numbers exchanged glances. "The Gentleman that we represent requires an apology from Sir Gregoire. The woman will then be turned over for justice."

Syanna nodded.

"One of you may take the offers back to your duellists."

Guillaume nodded. "I will go, although I am fairly sure I know what the Gentleman's answer will be."

Sir Morgan's friend retreated.

I turned to watch Guillaume enter Gregoire's pavilion. There was a short delay before Gregoire's laughter could be heard echoing out across the Courtyard.

"I think you have your answer." I told Syanna.

"It would seem so."

Guillaume came out and nodded. "I'm afraid that the terms have been rejected by the right honourable gentleman that I represent."

Syanna nodded in response.

The other man was much longer coming back. Long enough for Syanna's expression to visibly darken before my eyes. Moving past the amused kind of condescension and onto an angrier, continued feeling. Like me, every so often, she was checking to see where the sun was. Which of course we couldn't really see because it was overcast. That was not as reassuring as you might think.

"The Gentleman says no." He told us.

"Very well. Then an inspection of weapons, primary and secondary please."

This was something that was different about Toussaint than it was in Skellige. There, the duels that I had seen had been inspected by druids and priests. Or in the matter of honour in the woods, it was just assumed that neither warrior would so besmirch his own honour in order to poison his weapon. Here it was a matter of course. Just one of those little rituals that was built into the process.

Think of that for a moment. No law, no rule in existence has ever been dreamed up out of nowhere. So it stands to reason that, in Toussaint at some point, poisoning or otherwise tampering with one or other weapon was so common place that it became necessary to build weapon inspections into the process.

I found that thought rather chilling.

We went over to Gregoire's tent first. Guillaume produced the huge two handed sword as well as a dagger that would have put more than one short sword to shame which he placed on a nearby table. All four seconds and Syanna examined both in minute detail before nodding our satisfaction. One of the other seconds plainly wanted to object to the massive weapon but his friend shushed him before it could get out of hand.

Then we went across the courtyard to where we inspected Morgan's weaponry. The dagger was shorter and thinner, a stabbing weapon. While the sword that he intended to carry was smaller, also thinner and meant for stabbing. A rapier.

Do not make the mistake, as I have, of thinking that a combat rapier is the same as one of those thin, bendy, almost circular blades that is used in a fencing sport. These things are easily as heavy as a broadsword. Just longer and less designed to use the edge. They do feel lighter in the hand but that is a matter of balance rather than anything else though.

We all nodded, there was clearly nothing at fault in either set of weaponry.

"Then bring out your fighters gentlemen." Syanna told us.

Guillaume and I had the longest walk.

"What do you think?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "I still think that there isn't much doubt. But Morgan is being clever about it. He's going to come out with a huge, heavy shield to absorb the blows that Gregoire is going to rain on him while using a quick, sharp blade to find the weak spots in Gregoire's armour."

"Sounds like a good strategy." I found that I was nervous.

"My friend." Guillaume told me. "Do not trouble yourself. As I say, you haven't seen Gregoire fight yet. And Morgan's tactic is not a new one and Gregoire has faced it before. It's, really, the only tactic that might work against the Brute of Beauclair. Also, think of the sheer size of Gregoire. It would take more than one pin prick from that sword to bring down the giant. You could probably stab Gregoire three or four times with that thing before he would even begin to feel it. There is enough muscle there that it will take work to get through all the armour, padding and then skin and muscle to get to anything vital. Do not be too worried."

"Ok, now I am worried."

He laughed. The laughter did much to make me feel better.

I looked over to the stands and where Anne was sitting.

"Does she know what to do?" I asked Ariadne through our link.

"In what way?"

"Gregoire's going to ask for a token. She will need to stand and…"

"Ah yes. I remember. I will warn her."

"Also… She looks a little... Could you do something to make her, I dunno, shine or something."

It was a strange sensation to see Ariadne frown at that distance but to be all but whispering to her and hear her as though she was standing right next to me.

"Why?"

"Picture the scene. When Gregoire asks and the sun shines through the clouds down upon the innocent…"

"Ah. I will speak with Laurelen and see what we can manage."

I nodded.

Then I got another astonishment.

We walked into Gregoire's tent to find the huge man on his knees before a small shrine to the prophet. I would have felt terrible but Guillaume was easily as surprised as I was.

"It's ready." I said.

Gregoire nodded and rose to his feet.

"I never pictured you as a religious man, Gregoire." Guillaume said.

"I always pray before a duel to the death." The big man said. "I don't expect to lose, but at the same time, I would not want to stand before my ancestors, the saints and the prophets without having made some effort to prepare my soul."

"I get it." I said. "It prepares the mind."

"That too." Gregoire agreed. He bowed before the shrine again and went to pick up his shield. I was astonished that it was a surprisingly, to me, small thing. Only a little larger than a buckler which he strapped to his forearm.

"Anne is waiting." I told him. "Don't forget to ask for her favour."

"What?" He looked confused.

"You know. You're the hero here, Gregoire. Ask the ladies favour." Guillaume told him with a smile. "She has a nice, lightweight green scarf to wrap around your wrist or something. You know how it goes. You must have done it before."

"No." Gregoire told him. "No woman would ever have given me her favour."

Guillaume gaped at him.

"This one will." I told him. "She loves you too."

He turned and stared at me in horror. "She hates me though."

I sighed.

"Ok look. The two of you can fight it out later after this is done. Who loves and hates who. But for right now, before the duel starts. Go and accept her favour. If for no other reason than it is expected of you and she made the effort to make sure that she had something to give you. Then kill the other fucker so we can all get on."

He grinned at the last. "That bit makes more sense."

"Make her proud." Guillaume told him and we all stepped into the light.

I have never, never, never felt, seen or heard anything like it. The sound as we walked out into the open air was like a hammer blow to the ears to the point that I nearly staggered with it and lost my balance. Guillaume didn't seem to notice it but it had another profound effect on Gregoire as, like me, he nearly staggered with it.

"Oh Prophet." He prayed. "What do I do?"

"It's a hero's welcome." Guillaume whispered to him. I say "whisper" but it was all but a yell. "Raise your sword in a salute. Just a simple one. Don't shout or beat your chest or anything. Just salute the crowd and the Duchess and of course… The Lady Anne."

"Oh right. Where issss….. Oh." He breathed as he saw her. "Fuck. I need a rose."

For those that might need reminding. A rose is a sign of admiration of a person's beauty and to be fair, she did indeed look radiant. She had shot to her feet when Gregoire had emerged from his pavilion. Leaning on the rail in front of her, she stared at her champion with an intensity that would have bored through the steel of his breastplate. Ariadne had done me proud. THe clouds had parted in just a small way so that one of the beams of sunlight. Something that us followers of the Eternal Flame call "Flame rays." Where you can see individual beams of sunlight breaking through the clouds. It was shining on Anne herself.

It was now certain that the dress that Anne was wearing was one of the Duchess' own. There was some kind of metallic thread that was in the dress itself. Silver and gold if I was any judge and it reflected the light so that she seemed to glow in the light.

Radiant is definitely the right word for it.

"Roses are out of season." I told the big man. "Now go and kneel before her and beg for her favour."

Poor man. I venture that I have been wearing the same expression when I see Ariadne in all her splendour after some time apart. I bet I looked exactly like that when I first saw her when she came to Skellige to meet me. I looked up into the face of the man they call Gorgon and I saw my own reflection there.

Then he blinked as the crowd refused to quieten down.

I don't know what would have happened there otherwise but Guillaume guided him through it with lightly muttered words of encouragement. He raised that obscene, brutal, horrific sword high in the air as a salute to the crowds and to the Duchess before marching over to where the Duchess was standing as well. Guillaume followed, muttering a marching cadence so that Guillaume wouldn't lose his step.

It was a valid concern. Other than checking occasionally to make sure that he knew where the Duchess was so that he wasn't going off course, Gregoire had not taken his eyes off the woman that he loved.

I was looking at the other pavilion where Morgan had not emerged. His curtain twitched though and he had seen that Gregoire was getting all the plaudits that he must have been used to. I could feel the dismay in that party as they saw that this time, they were the villains of the piece.

Guillaume caught me looking and winked at me. I smiled back. This was his arena now. I had done what I could and now the only thing left to do was to sit back and hand things over to the professionals.

Gregoire marched up to the Duchess and saluted again, this time as a Knight would, rather than raising his sword.

"Your Grace," he called as the crowd quieted. "I beg leave."

The Duchess waved. If the Oxenfurt dictionary ever does an illustrated version of their dictionary. Next to the word "Gracious" there would be a picture of this wave. I wonder if there was a tutor that had to teach people how to wave and the different versions of that waving that come up. I wondered if there was an arsenal of them. In the same way that people have a variety of different smiles, whether there are also different waves. An aggressive wave, a regal wave, a gracious wave and so on. This one was a gracious wave.

My mind often goes off on strange tangents when I'm nervous or stressed out of my brain. But I am charged with reporting and recording these things as accurately as possible and this would be no different. I saw that particular wave and that was what I thought. As I say, looking back, it is plain to see that I was tired and struggling to keep myself upright and keep my head in the game. But it is always to see these things easier by looking back rather than at the time.

After her wave, Gregoire moved down the line and again, saluted Anne. I wondered if anyone else noticed Emma shifting her weight so that she could whisper in the poor woman's ear. Anne looked ready to faint and I also noticed that Ariadne was ready to catch her should she end up doing precisely that.

Gregooire started to mutter and Gregoire repeated the words loud and proud for all to hear.

It was not painful. It was stirring in a strange way. Gregoire's voice was obviously not trained. Not for him the smooth and melodious tones of a professional speech maker or a courtier. His voice was rough and primal. But in turn, this combined to make his words come across as being all the more believable, passionate and utterly sincere.

I even give him the credit that the pauses where he was waiting for Guillaume's words to catch up were not too long.

"Lady," he began. "I go now to defend you and the nation that I love, upon the field of honour. I do so gladly with comrades at my side and a smile at my lips. As the light of my life, I would humbly ask, nay I beg, that I be graced with a token of your favour so that you might fight beside me."

I was watching for it, so I saw that Emma's mouth was moving.

Anne pulled the scarf from around her neck with shaking hands. Guillaume, knelt on one knee and offered the hilt of the sword for her to tie the scarf around the pommel.

"Go now my champion." She said, "Go, and may your blows strike true in honour and the name of the lands that we love."

And I thought that the crowd's volume had been loud before.

"Don't wave." I caught Guillaume hissing in Gregoire's ear. "This is not a tournament. Stoic Knight. Stoic hero."

G regoiretook the point. Once again, he saluted the Duchess who gave another one of the little gracious waves before Gregoire led us to the middle of the courtyard where Syanna was openly grinning. Her smile was only slightly defeated by how impatient she was being.

Then Morgan tried to keep us waiting a little bit longer. Gregoire paced while the noise died down and people started to mutter. I wanted to be close but Guillaume pulled me back and out of the way.

"This is the part where he doesn't need our help." Guillaume whispered. "Let him fight."

"I've heard that duels start long before the first blow is swung." I muttered back.

"And they are right." He said, staring at Gregoire in awe. "It's like he's a different person now. This is the Gregoire that he shows the world. In tournaments and the like. It's like… It's a performance. It's like he's playing a part." He shook his head. "I want to believe that the man I met briefly in the tent. The man that I saw in the courtroom is the real Gregoire. But I see this kind of thing and I wonder."

"They are both the real Gregoire." I said. "We all put on different faces in different circumstances. In court I am one man. In a fight, on the road, at home among friends and family, before our parents and before the people that we love. We swap masks and guises as though we are changing clothes."

"I find that thought leaves me sad somehow." He said. "Which is the real us?"

"If you ever figure out an answer, then I know a publisher that would love to hear from you." I told him. "Ah, here we go."

When Gregoire had emerged from his tent. He had been astonished that the crowd had cheered his arrival. When Morgan emerged from his tent. He was astonished at the gentle smattering of light applause that he received. It was the courtesy of the thing that caught him off guard I think.

He had clearly and plainly used the time to get himself into the mental state necessary to make him go outside in order to fight one of the most feared fighters on the continent. Not the best or the most courageous. But one of the most feared. He had heard the crowd's adulation of Gregoire and now he was emerging to hear the crowd being… polite.

He saluted the crowd and the Duchess who managed to make her gracious wave a little colder and more… condescending than it had been with Gregoire. I have devoted a, not small, amount of time to figuring out how she did that.

His wife gave him a small scarf that was tied around his upper arm. All the while that this was going on, Gregoire was pacing restlessly. It sounds like a cliche to say it. And it is, but as I've said before, sometimes cliches are so famous for a reason. Gregoire looked like a caged animal. He was violence contained in the figure of an armoured man.

Finally, after a lot of what Guillaume described as "faffing about". Morgan came on. Black gauntlet on his hand.

"Gentlemen." Syanna said coldly. "I say again, the ducal throne has remarked on the fact that there have been far too many delays in all of these proceedings. It cannot be denied that the majority of these delays fall in the camp of Sir Morgan. This is unacceptable."

Morgan murmured something. One of the seconds stepped forward.

"The right honourable gentleman apologises. He admits that it was his duty to be prepared for this, but he was shocked to be accused of such a thing and as such, his delay was involuntary. He will beg for the forgiveness of the Ducal throne in person after his victory is assured.

Guillaume snorted quietly.

Gregoire did not stop pacing. I wondered if he was doing it consciously and deliberately. If it was a deliberately, calculated attempt to intimidate Morgan, or if it was an automatic thing. If he was barely suppressing his rage and this is how he coped with it. Either way, it was effective.

But it also meant that everything that was said and done was punctuated with the gentle clashing of armour as Gregoire paced.

Syanna spoke.

"In which case the terms are set. The duel will continue until one combatant is dead, unable to continue or yields. Both men should be aware that even the yielding will come with legal consequences. There will be no breaks for rests. Nor will new weapons be provided should weapon or shield become useless. The matter needs deciding and it needs deciding here and now. The world is watching gentlemen. Have at it."

Then, as never made sense to me in this kind of thing, the two men backed off. Morgan sliced the air with his rapier, making the air whistle with a couple of quick cuts. Gregoire watched him, still pacing.

Then Gregoire stopped and laughed. He laughed for a long time and he laughed loudly, before tearing his shield loose and casting it aside in as measured a gesture of contempt as ever I've seen.

"That man should have been born Skelligan." I said to no-one in particular.

"Come black hand." Gregoire sneered. "Let's see if your little pigsticker can do the job." Then he reached up and clanged his visor shut.

Morgan said nothing, closing his own visor with a crash before crouching behind his shield and advanced slowly and carefully. Gregoire laughed again before beginning a slow spin. It was very similar to one of Kerrass' pirouettes.

Morgan dashed forward quickly, hoping to take advantage of the moment that Gregoire had his back to him.

But Gregoire's timing was perfect and the sword hammered into Morgan's shield with a crash that hurt the ears.

Morgan fairly flew backward. I mean, it was more of an onward backward stagger but it certainly turned into a backwards flight. It was certainly that which the poets and singers are calling it in Toussaint as I sit here writing these words.

Gregoire didn't advance. I would have, Kerrass certainly would have and indeed, when I talked to the Witcher later, he was actually rather scathing in his assessment of Gregoire's fighting. At least, until Guillaume gave his own analysis of the duel.

Gregoire was toying with the other man.

For all that Guillaume's opinion of Gregoire had changed and is still changing according to when I last spoke to Guillaume, he did say one thing. Gregoire was violence contained. He wasn't a berzerker by any stretch of the imagination. There was far too much calculation and tactics contained in the way that he fought. But there was a violence and a terrible rage that simmered within the bigger man's heart. And what would happen was that he would unleash this violence in carefully curated and timed moments.

Most commonly in the melee in the various tournaments that he visited. It doesn't always work in the jousting fields and there are far too many rules in the sword and other contests for him to be able to unleash this side of him.

It was there that Gregoire was able to give voice and anger to the raging torrents within his heart. So now, in this moment, he was able to let go of the constraints that he, Gregoire himself, had placed on that aspect of his mind. Instead of being the villain in some organised Knightly display that was partly arranged in order to sell tickets and entertain the masses. He was now a hero. And facing him was one of the many men that had tormented him all his life.

In many ways, Gregoire was not unlike that which Raoul claimed to be, although he would not be able to put it as eloquently as Raoul did. But like them, he had trained as a Knight, had become as deadly as he possibly could be and then had wondered why people hated and feared him for it. Here was one of his tormentors. Morgan the black hand.

And he was finally… finally the hero of the story.

And there was a beautiful woman's scarf tied to his sword to prove it.

I can well imagine how he felt.

There was a philosopher named Jonat who was once asked what his idea of paradise would look like. He was one of those men that argued about moral standpoints and the nature of good and evil. He was not a man given to religious arguments and as a result, he spent most of his time trying to argue different sides of the same issue with the overall question, what is good and what is evil. The point being that either is in the eye of the holder.

I will quote you this piece from his biography, written by the scholar Kevan Tendral. There was a time when Jonat was working on something or another, probably trying to convince a girl that it would be worth her while to marry a philosopher at a time when people still valued money, title and land over the ability to think.

Come to that, they still value that kind of thing.

But a church scholar of a nameless religion challenged the philosopher with the question of "What would heaven look like? What would it be like?" After a certain amount of wrangling over what the word "heaven" meant, eventually arriving at the term "Paradise" Jonat gave this answer.

"Paradise is certainty. To know, without a moment of doubt in either direction, that what you are doing is right. That you are in love with the right person for you. That you are in the right occupation, that your cause is just, that you worship the right God or Goddess. That your King is better than their King. That your side in the war is the right side. To know that your children will live longer than you will and grow up to surpass you in every way. To know that bad guys are always wrong, that good guys are always right. But most of all, the knowledge that when some stupid idiot asks you a stupid question, that you are giving the correct answer."

It might not surprise anyone to know that Jonat was burned at the stake for heresy. It turned out that the church scholar that he was talking to was the second son of a local Duke.

But that was what I saw there, that was where Gregoire was in that moment. He was the hero, his cause was just and by the Flame, the prophets and the saints. He was going to enjoy every moment of it. Could he just have rolled over Morgan? Almost certainly. But he wanted to enjoy the moment. And although some people might call that cruel, I found that I was on Gregoire's side on the matter.

He waited for Morgan to approach him before, in an almost identical movement to the last one, he sent another huge blow hammering into Morgan's shield. Morgan was a little bit better prepared this time and was able to fend off the huge blow that came at him with just a small stagger backwards.

Morgan stepped backwards out of the reach of the huge sword and cut the air with his absurdly slim looking sword, again making the air whistle with the passage. I could almost feel the older man working on the problem in his head. He needed to get inside the reach of the big man's blade in order to be able to make a strike. But the blows were so strong that it was all but impossible.

I remembered watching Skallagrim fighting Kerrass in Skellige and his offering the same dilemma. Except Skallagrim never stopped moving, where Gregoire was just waiting as Morgan did his best to try and figure it out.

Gregoire laughed at him. The laughter was harsh and metallic.

To this day, I do not know whether Gregoire was playing with the older man or not. I don't know if it was a conscious decision, a series of conscious decisions or whether or not, that was just the way that he was choosing to act. I don't even know if Gregoire himself was quite aware of just how… clever he was being.

Morgan was getting frustrated. Unused to being both the underdog and the crowd's least favourite. Especially when it came to fighting the brute of Beauclair. He was getting visibly wound up. He had gone from, only that morning, being righteously outraged at the infringements on his personal freedoms and rights. Where he was downtrodden, hero of the people. Bullied by the Duchess with a growing mob behind him. A Knight and a nobleman at the height of his power. Then he had been accused of espionage and treason and now he was fighting for his life. With a hostile crowd and his opponent laughing at him.

He darted in, going fast instead of slow and cautious. Using very similar movements to what Guillaume had used when fighting the Jack imposter, Gregoire used his armour as a shield. He twisted so that the blade skittered off his back plate. Meaning that Morgan would have to draw back and start another lunge before he could bring the blade to bare.

In the meantime, Gregoire brought the pommel of his sword into play, driving it into the centre of Morgan's shield with one strike before bringing it down towards Morgan's head. Morgan jerked backwards, again staggering backwards.

I didn't think that Gregoire had stopped laughing throughout the entire thing.

"Damn you." Morgan yelled.

Contrary to popular belief, you can actually do quite a lot in armour. It's heavy and takes a lot out of you, that's not in any doubt. But you can still be fairly nimble around it.

Morgan closed again, trying to bring the point of his sword into the play. From the stands, Emma would claim that it looked like Gregoire barely moved while Morgan stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. Accordingly, she claimed that Anne screamed with every stroke, but being closer, it was much easier to see what had happened. Gregoire was a big man, and if anyone has the strength and endurance to do fantastic things in all of that armour, then it was Gregoire.

He certainly moved, but just barely. Small movements. Small twists of the body, small movements forward, to one side, forward, backwards. So every time that, otherwise, Morgan's blade would have pierced flesh, what it met was metal at enough of an angle that the blow was forced wide by the impact.

Guillaume thought it was a masterful display. If in a little poor taste.

"FIGHT ME DAMN YOU." Morgan shouted. His voice rasping with desperation.

Gregoire visibly shrugged and brought his sword round again for another huge strike, again, into Morgan's shield.

Kerrass told me that the correct thing was to give up on the rapier and shield and get into the bigger Knight with the dagger. Guillaume agreed, the ploy of using the rapier hadn't worked. It was not a new tactic to try and defeat the Brute of Beauclair and Gregoire had practised against just such a tricks.

The shield was slowing Morgan down. It was heavy with the fact that it would be expected to take the brute force of Gregoire's blows. But in turn, that meant that Gregoire found it easy to strike him. And Morgan was just not physically powerful enough to brace the shield enough and fight back. He tried it multiple times. Block with the shield while moving so that he could find a target with the rapier. But every time, the sheer force of impact from Gregoire's blows sent Morgan stumbling which, in turn, meant that the attack went wide and missed the mark.

After this kind of exchange went on for a while… I say a while, it was a matter of heart beats at most. Gregoire moved to properly attacking Morgan. I mean, I had thought he was attacking before that, but this was the real thing. He stepped forward and smashed Morgan backwards with a giant swing before following up with his first and last lunge in the entire thing.

I had thought it was pointless. With a blade that size, you barely needed to sharpen the thing and it would still be a deadly metal club. I mean, I knew that Gregoire had sharpened it. But I certainly thought that the point would not be sharp enough to achieve anything.

I just had time for that thought to register enough before I could see what had happened. Gregoire had pushed Morgan back even further with that lunge before, on Gregoire came.

A sword that size should not be able to move that fast. With something that size, you expect the slow, ponderous movement. Inexorable in it's weight and the horror that it would render to the people that it struck. It should not have moved that fast.

As I watched, a small part of me wished that I could have seen The White Wolf versus the Beast of Beauclair. That must have been something to see.

The blows were not fancy. Not for Gregoire the spins, twists and fancy tricks of the Witcher. This was simple, brutal and blindingly fast. Guillaume had been right. This had not been in any doubt at all.

You could see Morgan getting more and more desperate. The two men were fighting in silence now but for the crashes of Gregoire's sword against Morgan's shield. Morgan was still trying to bring his sword to play but it was clear that he just didn't know how. With the constant onslaught he was being overwhelmed as all he could do was to hold on and hope that Gregoire tired.

Gregoire started to batter him around the courtyard, the same way that a cat plays with a ball or a mouse. First one way, then making him stagger the other way. Morgan's shield arm must be going numb as he was becoming slower and slower to get his shield in the way. The protection was getting less and less and a new sound started to echo across the courtyard. At first I didn't recognise it.

Morgan was weeping in fear.

Then he made a mistake. I don't know why or what was going through his mind. I never talked to Morgan about it after all. But he tried to block one of Gregoire's blows with his rapier.

Which snapped.

"This is it," Guillaume stepped forward.

The blow had all but ignored the rapier, barely slowed at all as it crashed into Morgan, partially into the breast plate, partly into the rim of the shield. The metal of the shield shrieked as it tore. Not designed to stand up to such stresses and Morgan fell, some instinct causing him to scurry backwards.

This time Gregoire followed and raised his sword high above his head.

I swear that the blow was descending. I winced in anticipation of the older man's death.

"Mercy." Cried Morgan. "I yield."

By some obscene display of strength, Gregoire wrenched the blow to one side and instead it struck the stone of the courtyard next to Morgan's head, striking sparks and sending chips of stone flying.

Guillaume ran forwards and I ran with him.

"What?" Gregoire demanded coldly, breathing hard.

"MERCY." Morgan howled much louder. "I Yield."

"WHAT?" Gregoire's fury was creeping into his voice. "You Yield? Yield? After everything you've done?"

Syanna got there first. "It's over Gregoire." She shouted so that all could hear. "He Yielded."

"Like fuck." Gregoire swore. "Someone give him a sword."

We just got there as a wet patch started to spread underneath the whimpering Morgan.

Morgan's seconds and Guillaume turned away in disgust.

Personally speaking, as a man who freely admits to pissing himself in terror on more than one occasion, there is nothing that a man can do about controlling his physical responses. Sometimes, our bodies disobey us and there is nothing that we can do.

But robbed of it's target, Gregoire's battle fury was still on him.

"The court of honour is decided Gregoire." Syanna said, as gently as I think she could manage. "You have won."

"Anne is safe." I tried, adding my small efforts. "You did it."

Gregoire tore his helmet from his head. It took some effort as his gauntlets were huge and ungainly. He was gasping for breath and control.

"Now you apologise." He hissed at the stricken Morgan. "He apologises first. Then the Duchess can have whatever's left. He apologises now, or I swear I kill him."

He didn't see Syanna nod in agreement. Morgan's seconds had already turned away in disgust and shame. Gregoire seized the fallen morgan by the back of the breastplate and fair carried his opponent over to where Anne was waiting, tears streaming down her face.

Morgan was dumped in front of her.

"Now apologise." Gregoire hissed. "Apologise now you piss streaked coward. You filth. You dog. Apologise to a woman whose shoes you do not deserve to lick clean. Apologise to this woman who's kindness and goodness…"

I was getting worried. Gregoire was going mad. Whatever he had done to himself to get into the mindset of the duel had been stymied and it was in danger of turning inwards. He was ranting. Morgan was too terrified to articulate even the most basic apology and Gregoire just kept on ranting.

"Gregoire," I tried.

He ignored me, continuing to rant at the fallen Morgan.

Sensing something, Guillaume put a gentle hand on Gregoire's shoulder which was shrugged off.

We didn't see Anne rise.

"It's ok Gregoire." She said gently and clearly. The sun still shone on her and her face was a mask of relief, horror and amazement. There were other emotions there as well but I didn't see them all, or recognise them all. "It's ok." She said. "You have defended me. I am safe. I do not need his apology. He is…" she sneered down at Morgan. "He is beneath me."

Gregoire gaped at her in silence. Then he nodded and seemed to fold in on himself.

The crowd cheered themselves hoarse.

The Duchess was at Anne's elbow. "Sir Gregoire?"

Through an effort that would have been beyond me, he swallowed his rage. "Your grace?"

"We are well pleased. Remove your arms and armaments as I feel we have some things to discuss. This matter is not yet over, although I promise that your fiance is safe, I must monopolise her for a bit longer. Perhaps I could beg you to come and wait on our freedom when you are properly recovered from your battlefield activities and we can discuss your plans for the immediate future."

"Yes Your Grace." He bowed, Guillaume and I followed suit before escorting the big man back to his pavilion.

He was outright trembling when he got back there. Enough so that his armour jingled while he walked.

We got him through the tent entrance before he tore the helmet from his head and hurled it into canvas wall. Then he stood there for a moment, standing as perfectly still as you can imagine before he gasped.

He had been holding his breath.

He took another deep breath and held it, and another.

Then he carefully set his sword on the waiting stand before he sat down and started to weep.

Guillaume made me proud. One of the squires that had come with us to help us "see to" Sir Gregoire was dispatched to the Kitchens for some food and some mulled . The other was ordered to find hot water and bring a bath, before Guillaume himself Knelt at Gregoire's side and started to undo buckles.

"What do I do?" I wondered quietly.

"What it comes down to." Guillaume told me. "Is that we need to get him out of the armour. Basically, you can't go wrong if you undo buckles. Work from the outside in, taking pieces off as you go. I nodded and got to work. It was much harder than I thought it would be and a few pieces in I said as much.

"Slack armour straps are no good to anyone." Gregoire rumbled as he seemed to be coming back to himself. "That would mean that the armour would shift mid-fight."

I nodded. "Every day is a day for learning." I quoted.

He laughed at that. "Isn't it just though." He sighed. "So that is what it is like to be the hero of the tale."

It was like he deflated as he shrunk in on himself.

"Yes." Guillaume was pretending he wasn't noticing Gregoire's shifting moods. "That is what it is like."

Gregoire considered this for a long time. "I am not sure I care for it."

"Oh?"

"Now I must live up to how they see me."

"Is that so bad?" Guillaume wondered carefully. "It strikes me as being better than living down to how you are expected to behave as a villain."

"That is true." Gregoire answered. "But at least, being the villain, I am not invited to attend upon the Duchess immediately afterwards."

"Heh." I chuckled. "You are right there. There is almost surely going to be a ball."

Guillaume sighed as he saw what I was going for. "Ugh. Dancing." He worked a piece of armour free.

"Pointless food," Gregoire joined in, "Watered down wine, pretty conversations where you can just see that the person that you are speaking to is trying to figure out how they can tear your spine out. I hate balls. If there is one reason to lose at the joust it is so that you don't have to go to the balls afterwards."

"Is that why you always let Raoul beat you?" Guillaume wondered.

"That and there really is more money in it if you build up the anticipation." Gregoire grinned. "It's the payoff. I let him win and the crowd goes wild while I swear vengeance. The crowd loves it."

"So you let him win?" I wondered.

"Not always. He really is very good with a lance. On any given day I could not tell you which way it would go between him and me."

Silence reigned for a bit.

"Still," I said awkwardly. "There is one good thing about going to all the balls and banquets."

"And what's that."

"You will have a beautiful woman on your arm to share it with now. I mean, it has to be said, in this company only. That although I stand by my declaration that Ariadne is the most beautiful woman in existence. The ladies that you gentlemen escort, follow closely behind."

"I would agree." Guillaume saw what I was trying to do. Desperately pull Gregoire's mood out of the hole. "Obviously my wife is more beautiful than either of you gentlemen's fiancees. But they are comely ladies nonetheless."

Something rumbled in Gregoire's chest. "She is not my fiance." He finally whispered.

"The ring on her finger begs to differ." I told him. "Even if it is made out of wire rather than solid gold."

"It was a ploy." He answered. "It was an effort to save her. There is no way that she would marry someone like me. She deserves better than one such as I."

I sighed. "Gregoire, I know we do not know each other very well and I have had more than a simple feeling that you might actively hate me. But I once made the mistake of deciding what the lady deserved for her. In fact, I did it twice and both times she told me the same thing. She told me that she gets to decide what she deserves or not."

"Besides big man." Guillaume clapped him on the shoulders. "You just risked your life for her wellbeing. What's not to love?"

"Apart from the fact that a fight leaves me a gibbering mess afterwards. Apart from the fact that I am ugly, I have a temper, I don't know how to talk to women, I can't dance, don't know any poetry, have no appreciation about art, philosophy, history, music or religion. I know swords, armour, lances and horses. I leave the management of my estates to better men. I am a drunk, a rapist and a bully."

"Stop it." I snapped. "You and I both know that you barely drink and that you are not a rapist. A bully? Yes. Probably. But that is a matter of correcting behaviour. Of knowing the problem and taking steps to fix it. Truthfully, I do not know why you have allowed people to call you that before as I have looked Gregoire…"

I was lying at the time but I don't think he needed to know that.

"... and I have found no evidence of anyone that claims that you raped them. You make, admittedly clumsy, advances and then when you get turned down, you take the lady at her word and then move on. It is always a cousin's, sisters, mother's friend who talked to a bloke down the pub who heard it from a passing merchant. I don't know why you stand for it."

"And as for the rest of it." Guillaume was working on the buckles of the breastplate. "You have a fairly standard battlefield reaction. You work yourself up to violence and when you were there, that violence was frustrated and then it has nowhere to go. There are ways to work on that. I can show you if you like. I would agree with Freddie that you have been a bully. The question is, do you want to be better?"

He finished his work and levered the breast plate clear. "I would go so far as to say that you have among the best possible reasons to try. After Vivienne of course."

"And Ariadne."

He nodded unhappily. "I will think on what you both said. I need to talk to her anyway."

He rose and Guillaume stepped in front of him.

"Before you do that though Champ. I would suggest a bath, which I just happen to have prepared for you. Because you stink and a man should not go to meet the woman he loves with armour stink. And something to eat which will help with the shakes."

Gregoire stood and stared down at his hands that were indeed shaking before looking up at the pair of us for a moment.

"Why are you helping me?" He wondered. "I am not a clever man, but I am clever enough to know that… Why are you both helping me. You, Guillaume who have had every reason to distrust and hate me. You Lord Frederick, who is passing me his… his…"

"Stop." I told him. "I cannot speak for Guillaume but first of all I would disagree with you calling yourself stupid. I know enough about jousting to know that it happens in the mind as much as it does in the body and with the skill. You are what I would call, uneducated but you are far from stupid. If anything I would say that you are very clever, even educated very well in certain areas. Swords, lances, horses and the like. As for why I am helping you? I will admit that part of it is because I am helping Anne. She is a good woman and deserves better than what she got. She deserves to be happy and although you have yet to have that conversation with her. She loves you."

He opened his mouth to protest.

"Yes she does." I told him. "Yes she does and you love her back. You have hated me because you are jealous of me. I get that. I understand that. Anne has been very good to me and has been very good for me. Even despite her betrayal which is something I am going to need to think about at some point in the not too distant future. But she deserves better than what she has received at the hands of TOussaint society. Morgan and his ilk. She deserves a happy ending and a new beginning and if I can help her get that. I will do that."

"Would you not be jealous?" He wondered. "You will never know her…"

I held my hands up to stop him. "One of my best friends married a woman that I was all but in love with. I was angry with them both for a long time but it was plain to everyone including me, that they loved each other. So I got out of the way. It was not that great a sacrifice. I have known other women. Women who had been with other men before me and would be with other men after me. That was their choice and I hate neither them, nor the men that they chose afterwards. As for you and Anne? I care for Anne a great deal. I am hurt by her betrayal as I trusted her. But she was used as a weapon to hurt me so I am more angry at the hand that wielded that weapon. I will get over it.

"Why you? I think that you too deserve a happy ending. You have been in the shadows for a long time now."

"Waxing poetic Freddie?" Guillaume teased.

"Shut up." I told him. "Toussaint is rubbing off on me. And you can't claim different."

He nodded to acknowledge the point.

"You have been in the shadows for a long time," I went back to talking to Gregoire. "You were put there by your Father, society as a whole and yourself because you have convinced yourself that you deserve it. I think it is time that you walk in the light."

Gregoire stared at me for a long time.

"I agree with Freddie." Guillaume said, taking a bit more control and steering Gregoire towards the bath. "I have hated and feared you for a long time. You are a bully, I agree with that but I think, compared with Raoul, Crawthorne and the others, it is because you do not know any different. But the man that I saw today. The man that stood up to the entire court of Toussaint and told us that we were wrong. That was a brave man. A noble, good man. That man is one that I respect. Even admire. It is a man that deserves better than to be hated and feared. And as Freddie says. I am a man of Toussaint down to my bones. Is there anything better than a good old romance of the Princess and the Knight. Where Love redeems the brute?"

"She is not a Princess." Gregoire protested.

"All women are princesses in this kind of story." I told him.

"It's what makes the stories so memorable, now into the bath Sir Knight."

"I do not like being ordered around."

"I am still wearing armour and you are in your shirt sleeves while also suffering from battle shock. I reckon I can take you. Into the bath Gregoire."

Gregoire frowned. "Nor do I enjoy being spoken to in this way."

"It's how friends talk to each other." I told him. More than a little shocked that he didn't understand the banter.

He grunted. "Maybe this is why I struggle with friendships." Then he grinned. Suddenly looking like a fraction of his actual age. "Still, it will be an interesting new skill to try."

"Lovely that you think so." I told him. "Now get in the damn bath."

When we finally got Gregoire clean to Guillaume's satisfaction and back into his more courtly outfit we were able to leave and head back to the palace. Gregoire was uncomfortable. He wanted to know what was going to happen and how things were going to happen. He got quite angry that neither of us knew the answer to that.

Still, we made relatively good time and were ushered up the back stairs so that we could avoid all the courtiers that were waiting to speak to the conquering hero. Even so, we could easily hear the gossip starting up. The various people wondering about how the landscape of Toussaint was going to change given recent events. I stopped to listen for a brief moment while Guillaume took the opportunity to get some more heavily watered wine into Gregoire who was plainly nervous.

The main topic was about wondering who was going to lead the traditionalist faction now that Morgan had been destroyed. I didn't get many guesses but one of the suggestions was that Lord Tratamara, the unofficial huntsmaster of Toussaint, might step up. I doubted that and told Guillaume so as we resumed our journey. The man had just lost a daughter, did not have much of a taste for court anyway and his anger would be focused on the people that were running the Jack scam once they were outed. That these people would almost certainly be Traditionalists was something that I was almost taking for granted.

"I've never been up these steps before." Gregoire was looking round in interest.

"They're the back way to the Duchess' private study." Guillaume told him. "She has these used when a person is prestigious enough that she doesn't want them to be kept waiting. Or if the matter is secret and private. Or again, if she wants to send one message in private or another in public. Surprises me that you have not been this way. Sooner or later, everyone that I know that has performed some service for Toussaint learns the location of these stairs."

"I am never called upon." Gregoire rumbled. "There is always a prettier, more prestigious, more charming and more graceful Knight. I tried it, when I was younger. Killed a bandit encampment or two but I was criticised by the Camerlengo for use of excessive violence."

I laughed at him but he appeared to be deadly serious.

"I didn't know you could use too much violence when dealing with bandits." I commented, trying to keep the tone light as well as to keep the obviously very nervous man's mind off things.

"You can when you tread blood into the Camerlengo's carpet." Gregoire commented. I couldn't decide whether or not he was joking.

We got to the landing outside the Duchess' study. Kerrass, Emma, Laurelen and Mark were waiting outside along with Anne's son who gave Gregoire an appraising look. There was also Lady Vivienne who was next to the door, beckoning us in.

Inside the room was Syanna and the Duchess who were conferring closely along with Anne who was sitting in a chair with the attitude of someone who has spent some time breathing in and out to stop the grey on the edge of their vision from spreading out. Ariadne was next to her and looked as though she was talking the other woman through it.

Gregoire stopped at the sight of the stricken woman. His fists clenched on the sword that he wore at his side and I rather thought I could hear his teeth grinding. Then he took a step towards her.

"Sir Gregoire." The Duchess interrupted.

Gregoire stopped in the middle of the carpet. The sound of his name had startled Anne and she looked up at him with teary eyes. They stood there for a while, staring at each other before Gregoire turned and bowed to the Duchess. "Your Grace."

She was smiling at him.

Lady Vivienne shut the door behind us and went to stand near the Duchess.

"Before you make any grand gestures Sir Gregoire, we wanted to make a few things plain." The voice that the Duchess spoke with was formal but her expression and the tone softened the overall feel of the thing.

"Of course your Grace."

Guillaume stood on one side of Gregoire and I took up the other side. I caught Ariadne's eye and winked at her.

"First of all," The Duchess began. "Well fought. I do not think it would be unfair to say that your opponent was utterly outclassed."

Guillaume murmured something in Gregoire's ear. "Doubtless it was the rightness of my cause Your Grace." Gregoire said after a short pause.

The Duchess sighed.

"Also," She continued. "I hope you don't mind me saying that you caught me completely by surprise. I will admit that I didn't think that you had it in you to stand forward like that. I am overjoyed to see that a member of my court has the moral courage to stand for a lady in peril. I am just stunned that it was you. Pleased. But surprised. I beg that you take no offence."

Guillaume murmured something else.

"Your Grace." Gregoire rumbled. "Whatever else I might be, I am a Knight of Toussaint. It is my honour, and my duty, to protect a lady in distress. I only regret that I did not speak up sooner."

The Duchess' eyes narrowed.

"Sir Guillaume, you have served as second with honour and distinction. It is time to step aside." She said to the preening Knight.

"Your Grace," he said formally. "I stand with my friend."

The Duchess groaned. "Prophets save me from the sudden nobility of men. Nevertheless Sir Guillaume, I would remind you that you answer to me. This is not a courtroom and I require Sir Gregoire's answer. Why this time Sir Gregoire. Why this time and not before? If Sir Guillaume opens his mouth I shall have his tongue removed."

Guillaume knows his Duchess better than I do and he claims to have detected an undercurrent of fun to the whole affair. How he knew that. I do not know but he mimed holding his hands out and sewed his mouth shut with a grin.

Lady Vivienne smiled at her husband that suggested, duty permitting of course, that she intended to take him off somewhere when this was all over.

Gregoire considered the problem and scratched behind his ear.

"Truth be told…" He began before swallowing, his voice had sounded like a farmers for a moment. "Truth be told, it is not an easy answer. I do not volunteer because I have never had to. Others, better men and better Knights, have leapt to the fore at every opportunity. If any other man would step forward then I would have been forced to step aside anyway so that Toussaint and her Duchess could be better served by a better man than I.

"Also," he smiled a little bitterly. "It might be said that no-one would want to be rescued by the Brute of Beauclair. Nor would the Duchess have chosen me."

The Duchess in question's eyes glinted.

Gregoire continued. "This time… I nearly didn't. I will confess that and I would have the lady know that I nearly didn't. I don't think I would have either if Lord Frederick had not goaded me into action."

"Yes." The Duchess said, turning her flinty eyes on me. "We shall come to you Lord Frederick."

I bowed. "I look forward to it, Your Grace."

She glowered. "Carry on Sir Gregoire."

"Truth be told, Your Grace. I froze in place. I kept waiting for another man to step forward. There were many points to that. The horror of what Morgan was saying was almost too much to be believed. I kept waiting for someone else to step forward and take up the challenge. I was horrified, appalled even. That no-one did. But I froze, like a cursed Coward."

He shook his head.

"I apologise Your Grace," He turned to Anne. "I apologise My Lady. If Lord Frederick had not done what he had done then I might still be frozen now." His face flashed in rage as he turned back to the Duchess. "I froze, in a way that I have not done in combat. It was too much. Why this time?"

He shrugged.

"Lord Frederick goaded me. Because it was horrific, no-one else was going to do anything about it and... and…" He took a deep breath. "And because I love the lady."

Anne moaned. I looked over and she was wringing her hands, tears streaming down her face with an expression of horror. It was easily understandable why Sir Gregoire mis-interpreted that look.

"I do." He told Anne. "I am so sorry, but I do." He took a deep breath. "Your Grace I beg your pardon but I cannot contain myself any further."

He strode to Anne and knelt before her, both knees and with his head bowed.

"I love you." he said. "I always have."

I checked the Duchess who saw that I was looking at her. She kept her face expressionless but, I swear that this is true, she winked at me.

"I am not much of a man." Gregoire had not finished his declaration. "I have no doubt that I would be a poor husband. I understand your horror madam. We are engaged now but say the word and I will withdraw the offer for your comfort. Or, if you need the protection, we will be married. I will arrange matters that you and your son will live at my estate and that you never need to see me again. I swear that I would leave you alone after the ceremony and that you never need to see, or hear from me again. I am so sorry to put you in this position but I could see no other way to save you."

The big man was weeping as he said it.

"But you hate me." Anne whimpered. "You hate me. You turn aside from me when I come near and you go elsewhere when I am available. Why… what…? You hate me."

"Hate you." Gregoire was appalled. "I don't hate you. I adore you. I would wash your feet if you let me. I would carry you the world over with my own two hands. I would…" He stood up and paced frantically. "I turned away from you because I could barely stand to look at you and know that you would never love me the way I loved you. I chose others because… Because… I did not want to pay for it with you. I didn't want to cheapen… Prophets but it sounds so foolish in mouth now. I wanted it to be special. I didn't want it to be some transaction or think that I would have bought you. I didn't want you to be a slave. Either in my eyes or yours. I count myself as beyond lucky to even live on the same Continent as you."

It should have been corny. It really should. It should have been cliche and cheesy and the stuff of terrible ballads. But the depth of feeling in Gregoire's voice was overpowering.

I looked down and felt Ariadne put her hand in mine.

"Put better than I ever could have said it." She whispered for my ears only.

I saw a similar sentiment in the look between Vivienne and Guillaume.

I also get the feeling that Gregoire would have gone on for longer if he hadn't been struck by a blonde haired woman who used the same force as your standard siege ballistae as she launched herself, weeping, at the bigger man.

She nearly knocked him over. A relatively slight woman versus a giant of a man in his dress armour and she nearly knocked him to the floor. I would have laughed if I hadn't been busy being moved.

We all found intensely interesting things to look at on the walls of the Duchess' study while the pair of them wept in each others arms. There was an interesting portrait of Lord Geralt on one of the walls. Truly I had not seen it's like before and I doubt I ever will again.

Apparently, Lord Geralt hunts down other copies of it and has them burned.

We stood there for a little too long really. All of us with our own thoughts or busy reaffirming our own relationships. I can't speak for everyone but certainly, Ariadne rested her head on my shoulder and I, in turn, rested my head on hers.

The Duchess waited for as long as she could I think. She waited for the sounds of outright sobbing to come to a halt so that it was less sobbing and more a kind of whimpering.

I knew how they felt. I mean, I didn't know exactly how they felt but I think I have a general idea. They had, both of them, but Anne in particular, had come from a place of ultimate despair and resignation. To the point where they were now just beginning to feel hope fluttering in their hearts.

That hurts. I cannot describe it in any other way, but it is a very real, very painful thing. When you have given up to the worst possible outcome. When you know that it's all going to end badly and then someone throws you a life line. When I finally knew that we were going to die when the Skeleton ship came for us. When we finally knew that the Cult was going to overtake us and there was no hope coming. At that final loss of hope, there comes a moment of serenity in despair.

I have found that I got to the point where the worst had happened. It had already happened. There was no fear anymore, I knew what was going to happen. So that when it turned out that I wasn't going to die after all. That the Wave-Serpent had made it to shore or that Kerrass had figured out the solution to the riddle. That onrush of feeling as your body and your brain realises that you are going to go on living after all.

It hurts. I mean it's wonderful but… and this is particularly where I can't speak for Anne or Gregoire. There is also a certain part of you that resents the fact that you are being brought back and I have always thought that it is from this that the pain comes.

There is an old story, and I call it a story because there is no way to prove whether or not it's true. But Queen Helga of Maecht was due to be executed. According to rumour, it wasn't really her fault. She just had the misfortune to come from a treasonous family and was a pawn in her father's games. It is even true that the King didn't want to execute her, but was forced to for reasons of state. She spent her last days surrounded by friends in relative comfort. The King had decided to send for the best Executioner that was available which was a man from Novigrad. The executioner claimed that he was so good with his blade that the expression on the heads of his victims showed genuine surprise that they were dead at all.

But the date was set, the block had been arranged and Queen Helga was determined to meet her end with grace and dignity. She had ordered that the block be taken to her rooms so that she could arrange her wardrobe in such a way as to leave her neck properly exposed and so she would not stumble when it came to it. She got all dressed up, cleansed her soul with her priest and was waiting for the summons.

But the headsman had been delayed on the road due to bad weather.

According to the story it was this that finally defeated the Queen's grace and she threw a tantrum of fear and anger declaring that she was to die today and now she was robbed of this final dignity.

I can understand exactly how she felt.

I also think that the Duchess knows the same kind of sentiment as she waited for the Sobbing to lessen before she called out.

"Much though I would like nothing more than to allow the pair of you to affirm your affection and discuss all of the things that need to be discussed when it comes to planning a wedding and getting to know each other properly. There are other pieces of business that it is essential that we address sooner rather than later."

There was some clearing of throats and straightening of outfits as we all shuffled back into position. The only difference being that Anne clung onto Gregoire instead of Ariadne who went to stand with Vivienne.

"First of all," The Duchess was not smiling although I guessed that she wanted to. "Lord Frederick."

"Yes Your Grace." I took a step forward. Always best to advance into your doom.

"The matter was in hand Lord Frederick." The Duchess told me. "Why did you find it necessary to interfere?"

"You had arranged that Sir Guillaume would step forward to challenge Morgan." I told the room. "That was a mistake."

"Oh?" The Duchess' gaze was like steel.

"For two reasons." I said. "A political one and a romantic one."

"Interesting." The Duchess' tone suggested that it was far from interesting to her.

"Yes." I told her. "The Political reason is that it would make the matter political. It would still be your faction against the traditionalists. Sir Guillaume is a Knight of Francesca and as such, he is well known to be the Duchess' man. The court knows this and although I have no doubt that Sir Guillaume would have trounced Sir Morgan as handily as Sir Gregoire did. It would be clear to some, if not all, that Sir Morgan would have been set up to fall. They would feel your puppet strings around their necks and they would have resented you for it. Even as he lost, Sir Morgan would have been a victim of the Duchess' machinations and her determination to carry Toussaint forward in a way that others are not comfortable with and people would have resisted that. Morgan would have become a martyr to a traditional cause and you would have struggled with that."

"Interesting." The Duchess said again

Lady Vivienne wore an expression that spoke of "I told you so."

"Therefore," I went on. "It needed to be a challenge from outside your normal… and I use this word as your enemies at court would use it. A challenge from outside your normal cronies. Someone who could beat Sir Morgan. Sir Gregoire occurred."

"And the romantic reason."

"Just before court began properly and Sir Morgan started his… entrance. I'm gonna call it his entrance. It was made clear to me that Sir Gregoire loved Anne. I already knew that Anne herself was one of the few people in Toussaint that could see past the facade that Sir Gregoire presents to the world in order that he might enjoy a quiet life. But I had no idea, until that moment, that Sir Gregoire reciprocated. It seemed churlish to me to prevent him from defending the woman he loves from the pieces of filth that would destroy her good name."

The Duchess nodded. "Not many courtiers would think like that." She said,

"But I am not a courtier." I told her. "I am a scholar. And I like to think that I take care of my friends. Anne has been very kind to me and she deserves to love and to be loved. I do not know Sir Gregoire well although I hope to rectify that in times to come. I have felt that he was unfairly treated by the society of Toussaint and now I had a chance to rectify that a little. Thus, I could arrange for my friend." I gestured at Anne. "To be together with the man that she loves." I gestured at Gregoire. "What can I say? I am a romantic and I like to see my friends being happy."

The Duchess nodded. "How very Toussaint of you."

"I shall bathe and take my medicine immediately, Your Grace." I told her.

Syanna snorted and more than one person in the room had a small coughing fit.

"Yes, well. We were aware of the problem, but we did not have enough time to find an alternate champion. Again, it simply didn't occur to us to ask Gregoire."

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. "Thank you Lord Frederick."

"Your Grace." I took it for the dismissal that it was and gratefully stepped backwards. I looked around and found a patch of wall to lean against.

"Lady Anne. I apologise Sir Gregoire but there is still the matter that your betrothed was spying on guests of mine."

Anne reached up and put her arm on Gregoire's chest. Calming him so that she stood forwards. She stood forward and curtseyed.

"Lady Anne." The Duchess said. "It is the tradition of this court that a member of it can rectify great wrongs with service to the realm. I find that I am well pleased with your service. You have brought to light a dangerous intelligence gathering effort, something that we would not have found if not for you.

"Furthermore, it is also known to us that your crimes were committed out of love for your son. Having only recently become a mother myself. I must admit that I would not have known the suffering that you were under had your crimes come to light only a week ago. But now I am more sympathetic to your plight. I cannot condone your problems as your crimes are still fairly serious. You could have gone to the Knight Commander or any other people and warned them of what was happening and we would have saved you. There were plenty of times that you could have passed word to authorities without endangering yourself and yet you chose not to. That was serious, if understandable.

"Further to this, it is also a mark in your favour that you stood up and admitted your crimes rather than to prolong a lengthy investigation that would have prolonged matters and increased the suffering of many people including other guardsmen and palace servants. That shows courage and honour."

Anne had bowed her head at some point during that speech.

"Not that much courage." She said, all but whimpering.

"You would be surprised." The Duchess responded. "Courage is in the eye of the beholder. For instance, I would hate to put words into his mouth but I would guess that the man that would think nothing of wading into a melee or a group of bandits needed as much courage as he could muster in order to declare his feelings for you just now. Courage is a matter of perspective. You risked your own life and the life of your son in order to do the right thing."

The Duchess literally smirked.

"Let us not be too concerned with the fact that you were late to the party, let us instead celebrate the fact that you turned up at all."

Anne laughed.

"But there cannot be no penalty." The Duchess went on. "I celebrate, and will reward your courage. But in turn, I must punish your failure and your crime. You will be put to service. You will serve the Duchy in some way although I have yet to immediately think of how that will go ahead. Until that time, I remand you to the custody of Sir Gregoire, the Knights of Francesca or the family Coulthard while they remain in Toussaint. We will find work for you and you should no of your new duty before they leave."

"I understand Your Grace. I am grateful."

"Do not fear, you will not be cleaning out chamber pots or anything. It will be work for which you are suited and will reflect your talents."

Anne shifted uncomfortably and the Duchess saw it.

"Nor will I be sending you to someone's bed. Have no fear. Part of what must go into things must be a discussion about what you can actually do for us."

"I might have an idea or two." Syanna suggested.

The Duchess rolled her eyes.

"In the meantime," Anna Henrietta smiled. "Sir Gregoire has proven your innocence in many areas. Perhaps you might like to stay and witness the punishment of the people that have wronged you?"

Anne looked nervous and confused.

"No-one can hurt you." The Duchess said. "And if they try to level insults at you or do anything against you, then their heads will roll. They might anyway but definitely if they disobey the laws of honour."

Anne took a deep breath and nodded.

"Then you and Gregoire go and stand with the Coulthard family. Do not be afraid. And someone send in our other guests will they?"

The Duchess nodded to Vivienne who left while we all moved around.

Everyone filed in to stand in the appointed places. At which point, there was nothing really to do other than to wait. I was trying not to watch the interplay between Gregoire and Anne but from what I could overhear, he kept trying to put his arm around her as an act of protection before she would shrug it off and smile at him.

"They're going to need to work on their communication with each other." Kerrass commented to me quietly. Not that he needed to be particularly quiet. I rather think that there could have been a full scale battle going on in the room with fireballs flashing everywhere and the pair of them would not have noticed.

"They've just declared their love for each other Kerrass," I chided him. "After years of pining after each other, it just happened over the most dramatic of circumstances. I'm honestly surprised that Anne can stand up at the moment."

Kerrass grunted. He was unhappy. A running theme for him at the moment and I was worried about him. "How are you doing?" I tried.

"Still desperately trying to restrain myself from knocking Alain's teeth down his throat." He told me. "It's getting darker and I still think that that's going to be the quickest and easiest way to get this done."

"Kerrass." I tried to put as much warning into my voice as I could.

"I know, I know." He blew a breath out of his mouth so that it almost whistled. "I just can't help but think that if there wasn't any of this politics going on around the place… If this was just you and me on the road without any of this nonsense, then the matter would have been solved by now."

"Possibly." I said. "Or we could be dead."

"And by "we" you mean "I"." Kerrass responded. "You are not wrong. But that is always the case isn't it? Anyway, enough about me. I will feel better the instant that you all let me off the hook to go and smack the bastard around. How are you doing? Don't think that I, that we, haven't noticed that you are trying to get by on too little sleep. And also that today has been tough on you as well. I know you Freddie, you Love Ariadne and the two of you are made for each other. But you will not be able to convince me that Anne isn't breaking your heart, just a little bit, right now."

"No, I can't deny it." I admitted. "I am tired. I feel like I am borrowing energy from some kind of future me. I'm going to pay for this, I know it."

"Maybe." Kerrass agreed after peering at me for a little. "Look, I'm going to talk to Ariadne and Syanna. Syanna especially needs reminding that you are not a well man and that you need rest. Both for your body and for your soul. So after this, there will be a strategy meeting and everyone is going to want to know your opinion. After that there is going to be a lot more discussion. We can deal with that. I am going to get Mark to listen to your confession, then you are going to get something to eat before you get an early night."

"I'm not sure I can do that Kerrass."

"What are you going to do that the rest of us can't?" He told me. "This morning there was a raid, this afternoon was a duel and you have been heavily involved in both. Last night you rescued a girl and fought both Jack and a witch to prove my innocence. Correct me if I'm wrong but you're mostly running on the leftover energy from both of those things. You killed men today Freddie and you have to deal with that."

"I don't…"

"If you say "I don't have time" or "I'm fine", I'm going to slap you. This is how you got in trouble in the first place, trying to do too much and deluding yourself into thinking you were alright when you are not. You need to let yourself crash for a bit so that you can come back to work tomorrow with the full weight of your intellect. We need that a lot more than another man patrolling the streets to try and stave off another murder. An effort that will almost certainly not work."

I nodded. He was right, and both of us knew it. Ariadne was watching me as well and judging by her expression, she not only knew what we were talking about but she agreed with Kerrass as well.

Anne was gazing up at Gregoire, her eyes were large and shining.

I looked away.

Which was alright because it was then that Lord and Lady Tonlaire made their entrance followed by Lady Vivienne who, once again, shut the doors behind her.

Sir Morgan Tonlaire, who men called The Black Hand, looked wretched. When I had first met him, it was clear to me that he was a once powerful and strong Knight that was on the downslope of his career. Sam, who had stood at my side while we watched his matches on the field of the tournament, had been able to provide quite the in-depth analysis.

It is a truth that, sooner or later, no matter how fast, strong or talented you are. If you make your living as a sportsman of some kind, or a fighter or anything that uses the body as part of the job, then sooner or later, you will simply not be as good as you used to be.

You find that you need to work harder and work longer to just keep your standard the same let alone to make any improvements. Sam claimed that a Knight can expect to be at the very top of his game for about a decade but then, to the back end of a Knights thirties or maybe, if they are particularly lucky, into their forties. But after that, their body will start to let them down a bit. Injuries take longer to heal, they just can't focus as well, or keep their stance as long.

He hastened to say that this didn't make them useless. Such men then have a wealth of experience and knowledge to be able to fall back on in times of need as well as the other man's fear of their reputation which a skilled Jouster can use.

Sir Gregoire for example.

But it takes a wise man to recognise that his star is fading and to bow out at the right time rather than to make a fool and a spectacle of themselves. His assessment of Sir Morgan was that he was a man who had just begun to pass his peak and slide down the other side. When I first met him properly at the banquet that was thrown in order to honour the victors of the joust and to crown Sir Guillaume as the champion of the Saint, Sir Morgan had seemed like an old fashioned gentleman. His stance was pristine and he wore the grey in his hair with pride. He showed them off like some men show off battle scars. It was his views that dated him. I can't remember how old I thought he was but it was clear that he wasn't young. Well into his forties if I thought he was a day. But he bore up well and if Sam's assessment was right, he still had another five or six years in the top quartile of the jousting field before he would be forced to retire to avoid disgrace or serious injury. At which time he could retire to his lands or become an official, or a jousting master of some kind if he was really strapped for cash.

Now, he looked as though he had aged twenty years and I would not be adverse to describing him as an old man. He was bent and broken. His wrists and ankles were manacled while he wore a plain shirt with the wrists and collar untied. It was the kind of thing that you throw on when you have just got out of the bath. His trousers and boots were better fits and in better conditions. But not by much.

His hair was damp and my feeling of a man just climbing out of a bath was complete. He drooped. He was a man that was barely able to keep himself upright. Pale, trembling almost. If you told me that he hadn't slept for a week then I would have believed you. He looked awful.

Lady Tonlaire however, she looked the same as she ever did. Identical even. She stood tall, prim, proper, spear shaft straight. Head back, shoulders high and her eyes swept over the surroundings as though everything was beneath her. I had forgotten how tall she was. She reminded me of Aunt Kalayn, or rather the Aunt Kalayn as she should have been before my uncle got his claws into her.

Seeing her again in these circumstances made me think that she had been poisoned by life. She was a handsome woman, similar in age to her husband. My feeling was that she had once been a very beautiful woman, one of those ladies who's beauty seems remote and untouchable , like looking at a statue, but something had soured her so that she had been robbed of whatever it was that had made her beautiful.

She was impeccably dressed and made up, her hair was perfect with not a single strand out of place from under her courtly head dress.

I had looked for her after the duel had ended and I had not been able to see her. At the time, I had kind of assumed that she had fled in the face of her husband's loss and disgrace as well as the fact that his loss all but proved her role in the, well, treason that had been perpetrated.

But looking at her now, it seemed impossible to believe that she had fled from anything. Quite the contrary, she didn't flee from people or events. People or events fled from her.

She too was manacled at the wrist and ankle. Of the two people, it seemed that we were more at risk from the lady than we were the husband.

It also struck me that I had never actually heard Lady Tonlaire speak.

"Remove the manacles gentlemen," The Duchess told the guards "and then leave us. We will not require your services from there."

"Your grace?" One of the guardsmen was unhappy with this and raised an eyebrow. I rather thought I saw Syanna nodding in approval

"Gentlemen. In my company I have two of the most famous Knights in the land." The Duchess began. "As well as the Knight Commander herself, a Witcher and a pair of powerful Sorceresses. I do not believe that we are in any danger from an unarmed and unarmoured man."

The guard was unhappy but he did as he was ordered nonetheless, taking the manacles with him.

When he was gone, Lady Tonlaire sunk into a low curtsy. An act that I would have thought impossible given her rather restrictive looking clothing. Then she turned and glowered at her husband who was massaging his wrists. The scorn on her face was rather telling I thought. Her husband clearly agreed as he fairly withered under her gaze. He visibly realised what she was trying to tell him though and turned to bow before the Duchess before straightening.

The room was silent before Morgan took something of a deep breath and sank to his knees.

"Your Grace." he began in a small voice. "Your Grace I beg."

The Duchess said nothing. She was using the same tactic that Kerrass uses when he wants to get something out of someone. He just says nothing and acts expectantly and nearly always, the person fills the silence with words.

Often with words that they shouldn't have been using.

"Your Grace." Sir Morgan pleaded. "I know that I, that we…" He gestured to his wife who sniffed in scorn. I honestly think that Lady Tonlaire was desperately trying not to roll her eyes.

Morgan's voice trembled and he cleared his throat. Guillaume pointedly turned away in disgust, refusing to look at the fallen Knight's shame.

"I know that out… that we are proven guilty upon the field of honour. I know that this means that our lives are yours to do with as you please and that, in the face of everything, that we would not deserve anything better. But please, I beg of you, show mercy."

"Why?" Syanna demanded in what I guessed to be a rehearsed move. "Why should my sister show you mercy?"

The Duchess was examining her fingernails.

"We… I…" He swallowed and started again. "We have served Toussaint and the Duchess most faithfully."

"That's funny," Syanna sneered. "I remember you doing very little to serve Toussaint in recent times. Indeed, since I returned to the realm and took up my own penance, All I have seen you do is further your own glory and your own prestige. In what way have you… served?"

She sneered at that last. I wanted to join Guillaume in turning away. It rather felt like we were pissing on an already broken man. I know the reasons and I know why it needs to be done sometimes and I hate it. But I needed to watch. There might be clues here.

"I have always been loyal." Morgan said. "I might disagree but all I have ever done is do my best to serve Toussaint. To offer views and to speak for the people and…"

"Ha." Syanna sneered. I felt that she was enjoying herself a little too much and I felt sickened.

"But I would never move against the Duchess."

"That's not what you were saying earlier." Syanna countered.

"But in the early part of her reign, she never had a more faithful servant. After her husband died…"

"After, but not before. Earlier, but not now."

Morgan realised he was going to lose that argument. "I know that we are guilty in the eyes of the law. But I swear, I swear that we knew nothing of what was happening. My wife would never be involved in such a thing. Your witness is not wrong and I apologise for what I said. But she might be mistaken. My wife is a kind, gentle and meek woman and she would never…"

I opened my mouth in incredulity as I looked at the astonished and outraged face of Lady Tonlaire as she gazed down at her husband before her face twisted into disgust.

"Oh get up you old fool." Lady Tonlaire Snarled. "You disgrace us even further with your snivelling."

Her voice was actually much higher than I was expecting.

"Prophets curse you for a fool," she went on. It was like she had been a dam, holding back the torrent and now all that water was pouring forth. "After all this mess that you made. All of it. If you had just come and talked to me then all of this could have been avoided and now both of us are going to be hauled over the coals and everything that we worked for, everything that we dreamed of, is going to be destroyed."

Then she hit him. A large, open handed blow to the back of the head. It looked like it hurt as well. Guillaume almost darted forward before arresting his movement.

"Prophets," She went on. "If I had known that you would be that stupid, I would never have married you in the Prophet's damned first place. But even then, it could have been solved if you had had the courage to die like you were supposed to. If you couldn't beat him, you should have died and then I would have been able to say that I was coerced into doing what I did by you. Then I would have been safe, but you didn't even see that did you? You were too obsessed with your own survival. Too cowardly to keep it going. I could have claimed innocence, but now that you have made us both guilty by losing and not leaving us with anyone to blame, the Knight Commander can send in the troops and ransack our home.

"What will they find then Morgan? Do you know? I know. They will find all the correspondence that you have written urging others to stand up to the Duchess. They will find all the reports that I have been sent and all the rest of it and there's nothing I can do to stop it. If you had died, we could have prevented that, we could have saved our sons and daughters at least. But now, even they are poisoned."

She started pacing before stopping and putting her hand to her head.

"Well now it's fucked." She said. "It's all fucked and you have done this by being stupid, incompetent and never, ever listening. You could even have apologised to her and we could have got away with it but you and your damned pride didn't allow that to happen. Oh and before I forgot."

She strode over to the horrified man who was still kneeling on the floor and she hit him again.

"Don't think I didn't notice." She snarled in his face. "Don't think I didn't realise that you knew exactly who Anne was, even before she was introduced. In fact, you were the one that introduced her to everyone. All you had to do was to keep quiet and we could have said that she was mistaken. We could have showered her and her child with gifts and all kinds of kindnesses which would have proven our innocence and we would have been protected. But oh no, you had to…"

She gave up then and hit him a few more times. Syanna stepped forward to restrain the plainly furious woman but Lady Tonlaire stood up abruptly and held her hands up. "I'm alright, I'm alright."

Syanna stayed where she was though.

"We were going to change the world." Lady Tonlaire snarled at her husband. "You were going to change the face of the Knigthood and I was going to change the face of the courts. We were going to be the golden couple, leading the court and the land of Toussaint into a new world where we would be the leaders of that change. And now look at us. A piss-streaked coward and a woman that victimises those weaker than herself because I have nothing better to do with my time."

She spun and whirled on the Duchess, who was clearly caught by being appalled at the sudden shift in the woman, as well as a certain amount of amusement.

"That was literally it." She said, "Building an intelligence network as a hobby. Something to do because I found the grind of Embroidery and sewing to be too tedious for words. Treason as a passtime because what else was I going to do with my time."

She spun back to her husband. "Well now it's fucked. It's fucked and there's nothing we can do about it."

Sir Morgan found a shred of… I don't know. Dignity maybe? Courage?

"But my love…"

"Don't you "my love" me." I think it was that that finally broke her as the first tears slid down her face. She didn't change from an expression of cold fury, it was just that now there were tears. "When was the last time you called me that? Can you remember? I can't. Do not play cheap manipulation games with me Morgan. I taught them to you anyway as I recall."

She brushed the tears away angrily. "Now, all we can do is throw ourselves on the Duchess mercy and hope that she doesn't choose to make an example of us given the facts that we are, clearly, guilty. Both in the eyes of the law after your spectacular failure as well as in actuality. Two arrogant, stubborn, failures."

She sighed and brushed the tears away.

"Curse me for a fool."

She drew herself up and nodded to the Duchess. It was a nod of equals and I saw that strike home a little bit.

"I am sorry, Your Grace." Lady Tonlaire went on. "I have no doubt that we are bound for the headsman but I didn't want this piece of dung to go there without knowing exactly why he got there. If I have any right to a favour, I would ask that you make his death as painful as possible so that whatever it was that Gregoire would have done to him would have been a mercy in disguise."

She considered for a moment.

"Oh, and before I forget. Lord Frederick?"

"Madam?" I wondered. I found that I was enjoying the show. And yes, my mood was shifting and turning on the edge of a Knife. Something I should have been wary of, but ignored.

"Nothing personal Lord Frederick." She said, "Just the price of doing business."

I found that I was angry as well as amused. I checked with the Duchess and she gave me a small nod.

"It's funny." I began. "People always claim that it wasn't personal when they lose. Taking my spear, telling other people about my illness and the way to get inside my head. I don't know, that felt pretty personal to me."

"Not from us." She assured me. She was calm now. "Your enemies though? That I can't speak for."

I saw the play then. I saw what she was going to do.

"You're about to try and make a deal now." I told her. "You are going to stand there in front of everyone and say, "What I know in return for our survival." You have almost certainly figured out terms. What are you prepared to give up? A reduction in lands? You will want to keep your titles and your lives, a significant portion of your wealth in return for whatever you might be able to give us in terms of information. There will always be a bit of a nugget of information that you are holding back until we promise to give you… I don't know… Something. You disgust me."

Lady Tonlaire actually had the good grace to look appalled. "Of course not." She said, "I am beaten. I know I am beaten. And despite the way my husband has behaved, I am a loyal servant of Toussaint. My little games would never have worked against Toussaint, or the Duchess. What my husband…."

She kicked him in the side.

"... forgets is that this whole thing actually started out of loyalty to the Duchess. We were going to be her biggest supporters. We were going to lead the charge on her behalf but… someone lost that somewhere."

"That begs the question as to why some of those reports were gathering information from my own rooms." The Duchess wondered.

Lady Tonlaire shrugged. "To see if I could. I fashioned a weapon that was supposed to be used for the benefit of the Duchy. And Morgan only ever used it for his own advancement. "I need to advance so that we have more access," he said to my continued questions of "When are we going to start to make Toussaint better Morgan?"

She sighed in disgust.

"I will not beg." She said, "I will not claim differently. I was foolish to allow Lady Anne." She scowled at her husband. "To see my face. I don't know why I did that but I have been becoming less cautious in my older age."

"I know why." Kerrass spoke up. "You were bored. You wanted to be caught."

Lady Tonlaire considered this. "It is possible." She admitted. "Although a little… tragic I suppose. Still, I was stupid. Not the first time but I was increasingly astonished as to how much I could get away with."

She shook her head.

"Nevertheless." She decided. "I have said my piece now and I await judgement." She settled herself. "Prophets but it felt good."

The Duchess watched for a moment longer. Even with that, I would be willing to agree that it would have been a mercy if Gregoire had killed Sir Morgan on the field. That way… he would not have had to suffer the indignity of having us all listen to his wife's tirade.

"Despite your words." The Duchess began. "I find I agree with Lord Frederick. I simply cannot trust that you will not use your knowledge to hold something over us. Therefore, I should tell you that you will be interrogated thoroughly. Both of you. But you will be interrogated after I have passed judgement. Before I pass judgement however, and for the benefit of our chronicler in the body of Lord Frederick. I require the full story. What happened here?"

"Errr, well." Sir Morgan tried to regroup but his wife overwhelmed him again.

"We were idealists." She said. "We married, not long after the Duchess' betrothal was signed."

"I was ten," Said Anna Henrietta. "And my departed husband was already in his mid-twenties. Go on."

"It was plain to see that the marriage would not be a happy one. Morgan and I were disappointed with the choice although looking back, I think we were both disappointed for different reasons. For the wrong reasons. I was disappointed because the late Duke was so clearly, such a bad choice that it was almost embarrassing. I think Morgan was disappointed because he rather fancied himself as a contender for the Duchess' hand. I can only see that now of course."

Sir Morgan had climbed to his feet but he wilted a little more under this new assault.

"It was not hyperbole to say that we wanted to change the world. We wanted to shape it, change it, adjust it. At the time, it seemed to me that everyone was so set in their ways. It was plain to us to see that Nilfgaard was rising further which meant that they would, inevitably, come into conflict with the North. War brings chaos but it also brings advancement and back then, when the Emperor had only just returned from exile, we didn't know who was going to win, but it was clear that whoever it was, Toussaint would be destroyed in a proper battle. The flower of Toussaint chivalry would not stand against the Mahakaman crossbows of the North, the Longbows of Kaedwen and the siegeworks of Temeria.

"Likewise the massed infantry of the South when paired with the battle magic of Nilfgaard would destroy us utterly, but we would still hear our parents and our peers boasting of how many soldiers they would destroy. It was laughable. So we were going to change it. We were going to be a team. I was going to gather a cabal of like minded women and we were going to gather the other women behind the Duchess, withholding our favors and ruling our husbands from the bed chambers."

I thought of Ciri's growing cadre of women that she was including in Government, as the rulers of other nations and said nothing. I call them the Empress' knitting circle and it seems to be working as well.

"All that time," Lady Tonlaire continued. "Morgan was going to be gathering those men and forging them into a force for change for the better. We were going to bring industry and justice to the surroundings."

"When did it fall apart?" Syanna wondered.

"It never did." Sir Morgan began. "We are still trying to…"

"Shut up Morgan." Lady Tonlaire sneered. "The grown ups are talking now. Go and play with your toy soldiers. Do not try and suggest to others that you are moving for progress when you have been trying to make Toussaint more traditional for years. You didn't want progress. You didn't want new methods or new technologies. You wanted the old ways, only more successful."

(Freddie's note: In military tactics this is called "The Pellew delusion" and is best illustrated by fortresses.

The problem, as with so much in the world, is the conflict between traditional and progressive views. The one wanting to hold back or go backwards while the other wanting to run forwards as fast as possible. The true line being a mixed balance in the middle. If we hold ourselves back too much then we risk stagnating whereas if we go forward too quickly then we risk leaving some behind or making mistakes that we should have seen coming.

As I say, this is illustrated best by fortresses.

When people used to build castles, they would be built tall, powerful and imposing. It was a psychological thing as much as it was a military installation. You wanted your walls to be bigger, more imposing and more terrifying. You wanted the enemy soldiers to have been destroyed before they even got to your walls while your own men felt indomitable and confident.

So in the pursuit of building castles, if you leave aside all the stuff about them being residences or civic centres. If you boil off all the stuff about them being shelters for people, market places, barracks and things. Also ignoring the argument that a castle is only as powerful as where it is located. Another huge argument of being too remote to be useful versus being too approachable by assaulting forces. If you only think of them as defensive fortifications then we are talking about the walls, how many men and siege engines you can fit on the top of it. Towers for shelter and things like that.

And that has been the science of the thing for a long time. How to build bigger walls without them toppling down. How can we fit more siege weapons on them. How can we fit more men on top and how can we make those men more useful. Staggering innovations that mean an archer can stand on top of the wall and fire his bow directly down onto the troops that are massing at the foot of the wall. Arrow slits which is a balancing act between having enough holes to shoot out of while maintaining the strength of the wall itself. A slant to the wall, making it wider at the bottom than it is at the top, both providing a more sturdy base but also meaning that catapult fire, battering rams and other siege ammunition will be more likely to bounce off rather than damage the wall itself. Not to speak of making it more difficult to get the siege towers up to the walls themselves to disgorge their contents.

And that was the thrust of siege science. Higher walls, wider walls, more siege machines, more men on top of it. As I say, this is leaving aside all the things about killing grounds and gate houses and the like which is a whole other school of tactical thinking.

But recently, there has been a growing fascination with a man called Pellew. He was a Temerian siege engineer who designed King Foltest a new kind of Castle. He was challenged as to how he could make any location unassailable.

My understanding of the matter was that it was a bet first. Someone bet him that it couldn't be done. He had declared, rather drunkenly, that he could design a Fortress that would be impregnable on a flat plain of earth.

Naturally people laughed at him and bet that he couldn't do it and in response, he pulled over a piece of hide and a bit of charcoal.

What he came up with was a short, squat looking thing. There were still towers and things but they were relatively small. The walls seemed misshapen and ugly. And it was not the castle itself that was the most surprising thing. It was the artificial hills that he surrounded it with. He called them "Glacis". Small things that you could climb to the top of without losing your breath. But what they did was to obscure the castle from the eyes of the beseiging forces so they couldn't sight the catapults and the trebuchets. And given that the walls are much smaller, it presented a much smaller target to strike at. Meaning that the things that were fired at them would often miss, sailing over the walls themselves to impact uselessly.

Yes, if that was how a town or city was defended, then the houses behind the wall would take a battering. But that would still keep the wall intact.

He was ridiculed of course but being fairly rich, Foltest had ordered a fort to be built to Pellew's specifications. I will leave you to wonder which of the border forts that held out the longest against Imperial forces. In the end, they were starved out as they were under provisioned.

The military establishment was furious with Pellew, indeed, he was actually assassinated shortly after the end of the war, and it took the world a little while to figure out why. His methods were newer and untraditional. What the military thinkers of the world wanted was new and improved things to bolt onto old techniques. They wanted bigger walls, taller walls, wider walls.

Whereas Pellew argued that the old techniques were becoming unsustainable. That if you build a bigger wall, then someone will just build a longer ladder. That it all needed reworking from the ground up. They wanted to win using the old ways. He showed them that the old ways were becoming clumsy and ungainly.

Pellew's sons are amongst the people that Emma sent to work with Jarl Helfdan and Lord Svein. I'm told that they are already calling the castle that they are building "The Rock".

Another example is the pending fall of the armoured Knight as a military force and this is probably more relevant given the context. In the most recent wars. The South was held back on two fronts. The first was Radovid's superb use of the Pontar river as a natural bulwark against invasion. The second was the sheer power of the Kaedweni Longbows. Northern Kaedwen is a boggy, marshy place. Thick rivers and rocky outcrops. The ground is uneven and unpleasant and is absolutely not place for a Knight to be charging round. So what the archers did was to pick themselves the worst piece of muddy, rocky ground that they could find and put it between them and the enemy Knights and soldiers. Then they would just stand there and empty barrels of arrows into them. True, only one in twenty might find a mark while the rest bounced off the armoured plates. But given that the properly trained archers could fire off one arrow every ten heartbeats. It still adds up.

People are still struggling to overcome this. The Knights and the nobles who are used to the privileged position of being the only people that can afford the heavy armour, resent the fact that an uncultured peasant from upper Kaedwen can defeat them so easily. Armour makers throughout the continent are currently working to find more and more ingenious ways to protect the Knight and his horse from the falling arrows. There is a critical point coming where the balance is going to tip over and the armour of the Knight as well as the armour of the horse will become so heavy and ungainly that it will stop being practical.

So someone will have to find a different alternative to beating the archers with armoured Knights.

Why is this all relevant? Sir Morgan was the kind of man who demands better armour, stronger armour, more secure armour that will protect him all the better.

His wife is the kind of person that would suggest that what is needed is light infantry, or even lighter horsemen, who can close the distance the quicker.

Sir Morgan would say that this would be dishonourable.

His wife would argue that it would work.

He wants to win using the old tactics that are gradually becoming out of date. She is willing to look at new options.)

"I do not know." Lady Tonlaire told the Duchess. "It is entirely possible that my husband," she sneered as she said it, "really believes what he is saying in claiming that that was still his intention. But I don't believe that's true. I don't know for sure as I will admit that I have never really thought about it in that way. I think…"

She tilted her head to one side and looked up towards the ceiling. A classic tell of searching for an answer if ever I've seen one. I found that I started to believe her.

"I think… I think," She rubbed at her forehead. "I think it was when your husband died. Our first child had been born a little earlier and I think it was then. You were still in the prime of your beauty and I was… I think he loved you then and I think he… I think he hated me for not being as beautiful as you any more."

Morgan's face had turned to ash. "No," he protested. "No, that's not true. I have always loved you. I love you still, even if you don't… I will always love you."

I didn't believe him. Neither did his wife. I rather think that he believed it. I even think he meant it but… There was just something. It was the very image of a man who was protesting too much.

"I think that my having children and not being the figure of femininity that I had been. Your youth, beauty and power. I think he regretted not being free to woo you as so many Knights did at the time and I think he resented me for that. Let alone the fact that he had courted me and chased me, now there was the gap… I was truly lucky, I ,that Jack was not killing people back then. I don't think I would have survived."

I noted that down for later. Syanna opened her mouth to interject and follow that line of questioning but the Duchess held her hand up to forestall her.

"I don't know when it happened." Lady Tonlaire continued. "But suddenly, he was no longer spouting the lines to keep his peers happy. He was spouting them because he believed them. It wasn't all his fault. I was devoted to our children because I knew that he would not be. I wanted to mold them and hoped that they would pick up from where we had failed."

Flame but what an awful house that would must have been. I suddenly had the insight that I was looking at my father in female form. That she loved her children was not in doubt in my mind. But in forcing them to be better, I wonder if she had driven them away. Just as Father had done with me.

"It was not all his fault. But at least I do not delude myself into thinking that I am some great hero of Toussaint." Her anger came back in a flood as she scowled at her, now, weeping husband.

"We failed Morgan," She sobbed and snarled at the same time. "We failed and lost and wasted our lives in the name of your ambition. In trying to prepare ourselves for the coming fight, we forgot that we were supposed to be fighting and what we were supposed to be fighting against."

She had tears then and angrily scuffed them from her face. "Curse me for a fool." She growled again.

"My sister," THe Duchess began after a moment, "is positively dancing with a desire to ask you what you know about Jack, but before we get there, I still have some questions before judgement is passed. What were you doing? Why were you spying on people."

Lady Tonlaire shrugged. "It was fun."

Anne sobbed at that which prompted a growl from Gregoire.

"Oh shut up." Lady Tonlaire sneered back. "You were nothing more than a playing piece. Know your place and be silent."

And all the sympathy that she might have gathered to herself vanished in the wind.

"How did it start?" The Duchess' voice was steel.

"It started early. Servants gossip. As Lord Frederick once wrote, servants are invisible. So I made friends with my maid who made friends with other maids and housekeepers. It was soon a vast enterprise. I wanted to know what Morgan's enemies would be up to before they did. As servants, they would always, always betray their masters for the fun of it and the thought that it would make them feel a little bit superior to their masters.

"But over the years, Morgan asked for my advice less and less. And as he went, I had to force my information on him. And then he stopped even listening to that. So there I was, an intelligence master without anyone to talk to. But it was fun to know everything, and to torment everyone. It was fun, to trade secrets and be the spider in the centre of the web. It is… nice to be able to inspire fear."

I was not alone in having an expression of disgust on my face.

"So you are another person that hates everyone and everything." The Duchess said. "How sad for you. You even hate what little bit of happiness that Anne had found and enjoyed the torment that you gave her. Why did you show yourself to her when you broke her? If you hadn't, we would still be chasing you."

"The best part, if you don't coerce an agent into following you, the best bit is always when you force them to do what you say. That moment when they realise that they have no choice?" She sighed happily. "There is not quite any feeling like it. As for why her?"

She sneered before seeming a bit rueful.

"It honestly didn't occur to me that anyone would take her seriously, even if she did try to tell anyone. Certainly not that people would act on it so quickly."

"Yes, well. I think you should re-evaluate your views on Northern Lords. And it shames us all that you think that no-one from Toussaint would listen to the word of a whore." The Duchess said. "Does anyone else have any questions before judgement is passed?"

Syanna opened her mouth.

"Not about Jack or about specific events." The Duchess forestalled. "Nothing that would allow her to keep the information over our heads."

I had lots of questions. But it was all too easy to imagine Lady Tonlaire refusing to answer.

"Do you still love your husband?" Syanna wondered.

Lady Tonlaire considered before throwing her hands in the air. "Yes." she yelled at no-one in particular. "Yes, I still love him. And I hate myself for being so weak." She wept for a short while after that. Not by much. Little more than a small out pouring of tears and a couple of brief sobs before she mastered herself.

Her husband was appalled.

Syanna nodded and stepped backwards.

Later, I would wonder if I missed a signal between the two most powerful women in Toussaint. What happened next had the feelings of another piece of theatre where the rest of us were just players on a stage of their direction.

"Very well." The Duchess began. "Then it is time to pass judgement on the pair of you." She took a deep breath. "Can I trouble someone for some wine?"

Lady Vivienne poured.

"I must admit to finding this particular test rather difficult." The Duchess went on, accepting the drink before taking a sip. "I am struggling to remove my personal feelings from the matter. According to the law, placing a spy in my chambers is treason. As is spying on foreign nationals, let alone my guests. Thus making me an oath breaker. So, according to the law, the pair of you should be marched from here to the headsman. Yes, even you Sir Morgan. You were complicit in this and you know it. The courts of old would not even hesitate before having you watch your wife's head part ways with her neck before you were made to kneel before the block."

Sir Morgan had looked hopeful for a while there, which made me hate him all the more. He would have been quite happy to throw his wife to the wolves in order to preserve his own miserable existence.

"It is also true that you, Lord Tonlaire, have been a thorn in my side since time out of hand. Your appalling display deserves some punishment but I cannot help but feel that I am being petty here."

She shook her head. "I struggle to think what I am going to do with the pair of you."

She stared at the pair of them for a long time.

"If I may Your Grace?" Anne stepped forward and stammered. "I would plead for mercy. It seems appalling to me that this is all happening on my account."

"I agree." Emma said. "I would plead for mercy. This is all getting a bit much."

The Duchess laughed.

Sir Gregoire frowned and started to look angry.

"Oh, put your temper away Sir Gregoire." The Duchess teased. "I do not laugh as an insult. It just occurs to me that one of the measures of Knighthood, and therefore of Toussaint, is to show mercy and we are consistently being shown how mercy is done by foreign nobles and people who, and I mean no insult, woke up this morning as a whore, even if she is now a lady."

Anne looked astonished. Gregoire was visibly working through the Duchess' speech to see if he could find offense in any of it. He could not.

"Well, now I have to be merciful." The Duchess went on. "I mean, two of the wronged parties have asked for clemency, it would be churlish of me to turn that down. But there does need to be some kind of punishment."

"I have a punishment in mind." Syanna said. "If I may, Your Grace?"

The Duchess nodded. Syanna bent down and started whispering in her ear. The Duchess listened intently, nodding along. Then she smiled at the end. "Yes, I do believe that that would be fitting. You may deliver your sentence, Knight Commander."

Syanna nodded and grinned at Lord and Lady Tonlaire. "Your punishment is to receive your heart's desire." She said, "Sir Morgan. You have just become the Duchess' biggest fan. You will be a guest of honour at the Duchess' table and you will receive a title as befits your station while meaning that you will have a seat at the Duchess' privy council. You will have an opportunity to make your case in the council chambers but after the Duchess' decisions are made, then you will lend nothing but your full-throated support to everything that she says. Everything that she says. Every word. Whether you agree with that or not. If you start saying things in private against what the Duchess says, then you will be found to be a traitor due to talking about things from the Duchess' council chamber. The punishment for that is already set at castration, followed by quartering."

Morgan paled at the thought.

"Your jousting days are done. This due to you being called to a higher duty. That being your service to the council. But your praise of the Duchess starts today. From today, you will praise her decisions and tell everyone that you are grateful for her, astonishing, mercy,"

"Which is true." Lady Tonlaire commented. "It is indeed astonishing."

Syanna ignored her. "From now on, you are the Duchess' foremost ally and friend. If you waver, if you hesitate, if you continue to take actions that we even dream of as being critical of the Duchess, then you will be sentenced accordingly."

"So it is tyranny then." Sir Morgan's courage had come back in the wake of being told that he was not to die.

"Do not be a fool." His wife said. "You will have every opportunity to tell what you think in the council chamber. Did you not listen? She is offering you a post in government. Even if, as I suspect, it will be relatively minor and ceremonial until you can prove yourself."

"Your wife is wise," Syanna smirked. "You should listen to her more often. You might find that you don't hang yourself with your own tongue if you do so."

He paled again.

"As for you Lady Tonlaire?"

Lady Tonlaire squared her shoulders a bit, smoothed down her dress and wiped her face before nodding to show that she was ready.

"You work for me now." Syanna told her. "I have the right of conscription to the Knights of Saint Francesca and I am using it for the first time now, with you."

"You can't do that." Morgan protested in horror.

"She can." The Duchess snapped. "She can and she will. Remember what your sentence is, Sir Morgan. Full throated support in public and," she gestured to the assembled Coulthards, "we are in public."

"You will work for me." Syanna said again. "Your agents are now my agents. Your information is now my information. You will hold nothing back, your position will be public. You are my head of intelligence although your agents can remain private. We will come up with something so that they can communicate with you confidentially. You will answer to Captain de La Tour, myself,the Duchess and one other that I shall place over you. You served yourself and your husband, and now you will serve the realm."

Lady Tonlaire frowned in thought. "You will make me the most feared person in Toussaint."

"That is correct." Syanna said. "And a lightening rod for disgruntled nobles."

"My chances of survival will not be great." Lady Tonlaire had started to pluck her lips in thought.

"To that end, you will be training a replacement to take over when you either succumb to the Assassin's blade, or become overtaken by age and illness. In, say, five years time you may retire to your estates, or continue to serve the person that you have trained. We will add them to the list of people that you answer to."

"And who is this person?"

"Well, the newly named Lady Anne also needs punishment."

Anne herself, gasped.

Lady Tonlaire frowned again as she turned to look at Anne. "She is too soft-hearted for this type of work. I do not mean to insult in that way. But it is still the truth."

"No." Syanna said. "She is too soft-hearted to be needlessly cruel. She will earn her agent's loyalty. Where you ruled your sources with fear and blackmail, she will use loyalty. Care and the fact that they are serving the Ducal throne instead of your petty whims. Remember, this is not a game any more. You will be serving Toussaint. There are plenty of people who you have forced, that would serve much happier in the cause of Toussaint."

Lady Tonlaire nodded in thought.

Then she grinned horribly. "You are giving me that which I have always desired." Then she laughed and almost did a little jig. "Oh Your Grace. The opportunity to be listened to? To have my thoughts and desires taken into account. I do believe that you have given me my heart's ambition. I thank you."

"Do not thank me yet." The Duchess said. "You should both know that your continued survival as well as the status of your children and your lands are contingent on your obedience in this matter. If either of you shirk in your new responsibilities then the life of the other is also forfeit. As are the lives of your children. The headsman's axe hovers over you both and you would do well not to forget it. At the first whisper of either of you turning against us, all of us, then you die."

"We understand." Lady Tonlaire said in glee. "Don't we Morgan." She cuffed him round the ear.

"Yes, yes I understand." Sir Morgan looked as though he was on the edge of falling over.

The Duchess wasn't finished "We will add to this matter that a significant portion of your lands will be removed from you. Half of that will be given to Lord de Gorgon and his wife. The other will be returned to the Ducal crown. You will be fined five thousand crowns. Payable by the end of next year's harvest."

"Yes, Your grace." Lady TOnlaire agreed. Still containing the joy. This time she only had to glower at Morgan who nodded his agreement to the terms.

"Excellent." The Duchess agreed. "Then from here, I believe that Syanna and her team will have questions for you Lady Tonlaire, about your knowledge of the Jack killings. Lord Morgan, you need a bath. The stench of your cowardice clings to you."

Morgan nodded miserably before looking up at his wife.

"Just so we're clear." She hissed down at him. "If I hear word that you have gone against this, most magnanimous of deals, then not only will I inform the Duchess and the Knight commander of your betrayal. I will ask to march to the block beside you. I will beg to wield the knife that cuts your balls off and to be your executioner before I walk to the block myself where I will set my neck across it with a happy smile. You disgust me, you awful piece of filth and I disgust myself for being unable to stop loving you."

Then she spat in his face.

Morgan was so beaten by this point that he didn't even wipe the spit from his face.

"Was that entirely necessary?" Syanna wondered.

"It made me feel better." Lady Tonlaire said. "Necessary? No. His enemies have given me what I wanted. What does that say about us? About me?" her face darkened. "About him?"

Syanna had no answer to that.

"Very well," The Duchess began, "Lord Tonlaire, I expect you need to go and find a place to freshen up and ready yourself for the ridicule that you will receive as you sing about our mercy to the heavens. Lady Tonlaire? I believe that your service starts immediately and that my sister and her colleagues have questions for you. If I may though Knight Commander?"

Syanna bowed.

"Sir Gregoire and his intended, should be given a weeks notice before Lady Anne's new duties began so that they may get their house in order and acclimatise to their new lives."

"I quite agree, Your Grace." Syanna bowed again.

"Your Grace," Sir Gregoire's voice piped up. "May I speak?"

The Duchess considered the huge man. "Does it require the presence of Lord and Lady Tonlaire?"

"It does not Your Grace." The big man's face twisted in disgust.

"Then away with you," The Duchess' dismissing wave was as close to an insult as a simple gesture like that can be.

Gregoire led Anne into the middle of the room while Lord and Lady Tonlaire left.

"I want to do this before witnesses." He said. "People are quite right in saying that my reputation is not wonderful. I am partly to fault for that."

"Not as much as you might think." I spoke up. "People were putting you into the hole and then you allowed it. Do not take too much blame on that score for yourself."

Gregoire, and a couple of the others present nodded although I could see that the man himself would still need some convincing before he allowed himself to believe that.

"But I will not have it said that I forced you, Anne, into doing something that you did not want to do. So again, as I said earlier in the courtroom."

He took a deep breath.

"I love you." He said. "The desire to marry you is sincere in me, I would beg that you never doubt that. Never. No matter what others might say to you on the subject. Never doubt that. I do not care about your past. I do not care about your former profession, indeed I am pleased that I was able to cross your paths and know you as a result of that. No-one will ever insult you for any of that in my presence or in a way that I can hear again. Not and survive as well.

"I do not care that you already have a son. I shall make him as good as my own, including making him my heir, if you, and he, wish it. I do not care that you are… provably not a virgin going into a marriage.

"I love you. However, I understand that although I have been well aware of my feelings regarding yourself for many years. To you they are a shock and maybe even a cause for disgust and concern."

I could see the negative in Anne's eyes already, but Gregoire pushed on. I get the feeling that he had practised this speech a little and was forcing himself through it.

"In the heat of the moment, I asked you to marry me so that I could protect you. The question was sincere on my part. However, if you took the ring then in order to save yourself. An action for which no-one could blame you and again, if anyone tries then my blade will demand an answer for it.

"But if you are now having second thoughts. If the Thought of marrying the Brute of Beauclair is repulsive to you then please, I beg you. Say so now and we need never speak of this again."

For just a moment, Anne nearly threw her arms around him. There was just a moment where she almost automatically said yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

"I beg," Gregoire said. "I beg you to think on this seriously. The only example that I have as to how a man should treat a woman is from my father and he was a poor example. I do not know how to be a good husband. All I can promise is that I will try and that I will need your help to do so. Please consider, as I…" He wiped his own tears from his face. "I do not believe that I will have the strength to make this offer a second time."

Anne nodded as a thought slotted into place behind her eyes.

"Gregoire," She began carefully. "It might surprise you to learn that I have loved you for a long time. No." She held her hand up to forestall what Gregoire was going to say. "You have said your piece and now it is my turn."

I nodded, so did Lady Vivienne and Syanna I think.

"I have loved you for a long time. But it is also true that I have loved you. Gregoire de Gorgon. Him I would marry. The man standing before me I would marry in a heartbeat. Indeed, if there was a priest nearby I would ask it to be done now."

Mark cleared his throat. "It can be arranged."

There was some small laughter at that. "I'm hardly dressed for the occasion." Joked the Duchess. "But after today, I don't think I can allow the two of you to elope, I would make a fuss of the two of you."

"But," Anne continued and the room fell silent. "As I say, you, I would marry. But I would not marry the Brute of Beauclair. I have known you a long time, Gregoire, a long time. You take on this mask, this persona of the Brute. And when you become him, as I have seen before. You frighten me. I can understand temper, but who you become when you go to Tournaments or contests. Him, I will not marry."

Gregoire frowned as he thought about this.

"I don't know how to do things any other way." He said, stricken

Guillaume stepped forward. "My friend." He began. "You have taken the first steps away from that today. Today you were a hero, embrace that and it will fall into place."

"How?" Gregoire begged. "I really don't."

Guillaume laughed. "Ah my friend. I will teach you. As will all of your friends. I suspect that you will find that you have many now. My first lesson is this. How will you use your strengths differently?"

Gregoire frowned in thought. Then he brightened before turning on Syanna. "Knight Commander?"

"Sir Gregoire?"

"My sword is yours if you would have it."

Syanna grinned. "I would and gladly. Although I am forced to wonder. I did offer you service before and you turned it down. Why not then?"

Gregoire frowned. "I saw what you were trying to do. I suspected that it would hurt you more than help you if you had the Brute of Beauclair under your command."

Syanna laughed. "That might have been true." She admitted. "But no more than the Traitor who brought about the Night of Long Fangs."

Gregoire frowned. "I had not thought of that."

"Still, I will need you I think. And that must start immediately. We are still under threat."

Gregoire nodded and turned back to Anne. Who had tears streaming down her eyes.

"Anne?" He wondered. "I'm sorry I don't…"

"Yes you fool." SHe laughed. "Oh prophets yes. I am so proud of you. Yes."

Gregoire stared at her. Then his face began to fold. "Proud of me?"

We all found reasons to examine the art work again.

"Then I must begin my service." Gregoire said. "My Lady…" Then he laughed. "My Lady. I would speak with your son and then, I will begin service. With your permission of course Knight Commander."

Syanna was laughing. "Yes of course. I will get things going, Lord Frederick? Master Witcher?

We all started to file out but I hung back.

"Freddie? You coming?" Kerrass wondered.

Anne and Gregoire had emerged from the room and Anne's son, Fabrice, launched himself at his mother who quickly knelt to accept the hug.

"I will." I told Kerrass. "I just want to see this."

Kerrass saw what I was looking at and nodded. "So long as you are not going to depress yourself Freddie. I will tell everyone that you will be along."

Emma and Mark passed me. "We will take Anne and make sure she's ok." Emma told me. "You know, while you and the boys work."

I nodded. Anne was in the process of introducing her son to the huge Knight.

Ariadne also put her hand on my shoulder as she passed. "Cauterise the wound properly." She told me. "I love you and I will see you in the council meeting where I will ensure that you do not stay up too late. You have done great things today and you need to rest."

I nodded. "Thank you. I love you too."

Saying that never ceases to get a smile to her face.

Fabrice was looking up at the huge Knight and shuffled up to him. Anne saw me watching and said nothing.

"Are you going to be my father?" the child asked Gregoire.

Gregoire frowned before kneeling. I don't know if he did it automatically or deliberately. But Kerrass would have approved. Where possible, get yourself on the child's level.

"That is an interesting question." He said to the boy. "The answer is that that is not up to me. It is up to you and your Mother. I hope so, but, that is up to you and I encourage you to take your time to think about it."

Fabrice nodded and thought about that.

"I've never had a father before." The lad admitted.

"I have." Gregoire said. "He was spectacularly bad at it."

Fabrice giggled and a plainly astonished Gregoire smiled back.

"I've been thinking about this though," Gregoire went on. "How I would have liked to have been treated though and whether or not I am going to be your Father, you and your mother will be coming to live with me which means that I am responsible for you. So I would like to make a pact with you."

"What's a pact?"

"A promise, an oath between the two of us as the men of the household."

Fabrice nodded solemnly.

"I promise," Gregoire began. "That I will never lie to you. Not ever. That might mean that you hear something that you don't want to. There might be answers that leave you feeling awkward or embarrassed. But I will never lie to you. Do you understand?"

Fabrice nodded solemnly.

"So, in return, I expect the same thing. Never lie to me Fabrice. We will make mistakes with each other. We are going to upset each other and make each other angry. You are going to do things that I disapprove of and make me angry. And when you make those mistakes, or have those accidents, I need you to tell me. I might laugh, I might cry, I might get angry and I might be disappointed. Do you understand?"

Fabrice nodded again.

"But Fabrice," Gregoire went on. "It will be nothing compared to how angry I get if I find that you have lied to me or kept things from me. You will not have a better champion than me, except maybe your mother, but if you lie to me. Then I will be upset. I cannot stand people who lie for their own purposes. Do we have a pact?"

Fabrice considered and nodded. Gregoire held out his hand and shook Fabrice's little hand. Even while the small hand disappeared into the huge.

"Now," Gregoire wondered. "Do you have any questions for me to start us off?"

"Do you love my mother?"

I wondered if the child really knew what he was asking.

"More than breath." Gregoire told him. Anne gasped as he spoke but neither Gregoire or Fabrice noticed.

"Will you make her happy?" The boy asked.

Gregoire chuckled. "By the Prophets lad, you don't start off with the easy questions do you. Well, I promised I wouldn't lie." He looked up at Anne. "I don't know." He said. "Just as my Father didn't teach me how to be a good Father, he also didn't teach me how to be a good man, or a good husband. I can promise…."

He turned back to the boy. "I can promise that I will try. With all my heart and every day until the day I die. Both her, and you as well."

Fabrice considered this and decided he was satisfied before throwing his arms round the astonished Knight.

I decided that I had seen what I wanted to see and turned to leave, driven by a growing lump in my throat that was started by something that I did not recognise. Neither Anne or Gregoire deserved, or wanted my tears. Especially not the boy. But, it is a truth that no good deed goes unpunished and I heard Anne calling my name as I walked away.

Cursing myself for a fool I turned to face her and gave her my best smile.

"Are you not going to say Goodbye?" She asked. She still had a certain delay to her words and a fuzziness to her gaze which suggested a person coming to terms with things.

"Is it Goodbye?" I answered. "I have no doubt that we shall see each other soon. Not least because I expect an invite to the wedding."

"Are you joking?" Gregoire had walked up, he looked kind of amused, shocked, confused and overjoyed at the fact that a little boy was holding his hand. Well, his finger, holding a still gauntleted hand was a bit more than could easily be expected. "You and Guillaume… You stood next to me at what is possibly the most important moment of my life. Any man that would stand next to me in the hardest points would, I hope, stand next to me in the most joyous."

Right there and right then, I couldn't think of anything more horrifying. The black part of my mood was rising.

"I would be honoured." I said, shaking Gregoire's hand.

"Thank you Lord Frederick." he said, staring into my eyes. "I mean it, for everything. I might not be much of a courtier, but I recognise a courtier's hand in all this," he gestured between Anne and himself before taking a breath. "I will admit that I thought badly of you, Lord Frederick. You deserved better at my hands."

"I will forgive you Sir Knight." I told him. "I would imagine that it is a hard habit to break, being used to everyone hating you for no reason."

"It is." He admitted before smiling. "What. No speech about how I had better not hurt her?"

I found a laugh from somewhere. "What would I do otherwise, call you out? Let us be fair Sir Knight. You would split me in two for my impertinence."

"True," he admitted.

"But in all honesty, I have always found such speeches demeaning. Both to you and to the lady. She can take care of herself I fancy."

"She can."

"Would you excuse us, love?" Anne asked her betrothed. "I have words to say to Freddie."

Gregoire's eyes narrowed in suspicion for a moment before he visibly frowned at himself and shook his head in shame. "Distrust of people is a hard habit to break." He said. "Of course you have private things to say to each other. I will be at the end of the hall. I shall see you soon Lord Frederick."

"Freddie, please. I think you've earned it."

"I am less certain. Come along Fabrice."

The big man walked to the end of the hall, carefully keeping his stride slow so that the boy could keep up.

"Thank you Freddie." Anne told me as she watched the huge Knight walk away. "Thank you so much."

"I am sorry you had to go through hell to get there."

"I have been through worse." She said, a shadow of pain crossed her face. "Are you alright though? You look a little…"

I sighed. Of course she had seen through my mask of false cheerfulness.

"I am… not." I decided.

She nodded a little sadly. "I am so sorry Freddie."

"What for?" I snapped, a little harsher than I had meant to. "I am sorry." I told her.

"No, it's I who am sorry," My brief flash of unfair rage washed over her. "But I doubt I can be there to help support you in these last days of your hunt for the killers. All I can ask is that you try and take care of yourself, at least a little."

I looked out the window to see that Dusk was settling and the sky was turning dark. crimson.

"I suspect that a few people are conspiring to mother me." I told her. "I have already been told that I am heading for an early night."

"There are worse things." She said before taking a deep breath. "I don't want to leave it like this Freddie. You were among the best clients I ever had. Enough that I thought of you as a friend and I would have looked back on it all fondly. I felt as though I was doing good work with you and that I really helped you. I really believed that I was contributing. I am excited by my new life and I am looking forward to what comes next, both married life and the work that I have ahead of me. But I am sorry that it ends like this between us."

"How else would it have ended?" Again, there was too much bitterness there. I didn't mean it and I took another breath. "I'm sorry again." I said.

"And again, it is I who am sorry. To answer your question. When you were feeling better and properly well. When you were leaving Toussaint or when our contract ended, I had something planned along the lines of one last perfect evening. I would have had you take me to a play, followed by a nice meal in a local, up market tavern that I know before taking you to a room somewhere where we would have made love for as long as possible before falling asleep. Then I would have parted from you as gently as I could in the morning. I would have looked as beautiful as I could manage and the tears that I would have shed at our parting would not have been feigned. Not for you."

"That sounds nice." I admitted.

"But instead, I betrayed you. Hurt you and if I am any judge, I have broken your heart a little."

"A little bit," I admitted, trying for a smile.

"And in return, you have given my son a father, me a future where I do not have to sell my body for a living." She laughed. "Not all clients are as pleasant as you."

I laughed at her. "I will take that compliment."

"You should. And you have given me one of the few men that I have been able to love. Hardly seems fair."

"I would pay that price." I said. "You deserve it."

"Thank you for your kindness." She told me. "I will see you soon Freddie, I do not wish us to be strangers, although I will leave it for a while until you are feeling more comfortable."

"Thank you."

She went to offer a hug and Flame curse my disobedient body, I flinched backwards.

"I can't." I said, the lump back in my throat. "I really can't. I am sorry."

"Oh Freddie." I could see the wet shine in her eyes in answer to mine. "It is I who am sorry."

"Take care." I told her.

"You too." And she was gone. Gregoire looked at her for a moment and hugged her. She said something that I did not hear and he looked up at me with an unreadable expression before he nodded towards me. The new family unit turned and left.

I sighed and looked back out the window. The sun was setting over Beauclair and I decided that I could allow myself a small amount of time to brood. I went and stood, looking out the window and let a few tears stream down my face.

I have been lucky enough, in my life, to know a number of wonderful women. Of those, the greatest is the one that agreed to marry me. I give thanks for her every day of my life.

But Anne was another. I don't know how much of our time together was part of her doing her job, or how much was a genuine connection between the two of us. I dare not ask her now because I do not know if I want to know the answer.

I spent some time watching the sun set, I rather thought that it was going to rain soon. But after a brief time, I could no longer prevent the guilt that was scrabbling at the back of my mind, trying to tell me that I needed to be doing some work and helping people rather than moping around. I found a servant who told me that Syanna and the rest were working in a certain room and they took me there with little complaint.

It was another one of those meeting rooms. Long table, drinks nearby, pastries and fruit provided. Ariadne was waiting for me and gave me a quick hug before passing me a cup of honeyed tea. There were also a lot more people in the room. A number of other Knights that I didn't recognise as long as several guardsmen and Lady Vigo was in the back. As I walked in, it appeared that the meeting was not going well.

"What do you mean that you don't know who Jack is?"

"I'm telling you that I don't know who Jack is." Lady Tonlaire screamed back.

I swallowed a hot piece of sausage, a little bit faster than I probably should have done.

"For those of us that are just turning up." I wondered. "What's happening?"

"Lady Tonlaire claims that she doesn't know what's happening." Kerrass added helpfully.

"Dear Prophets, is this the group that finally managed to unearth my presence?" The lady in question wondered. "I was resigned, but now I am a little ashamed."

'I wouldn't worry." Syanna said, sounding tired and rubbing her eyes. "Freddie's the real brains of the outfit. But still…"

"And Freddie needs to go to bed and get some rest." Ariadne insisted.

"Yes, I knew that he was ill and he is looking a bit pale." Lady Tonlaire frowned at me.

"Ok look." I said. "While I drink my tea, can someone please explain what is going on?"

"I have been trying to explain to Captain De La Tour here that I do not know who the killer Jack is." Lady Tonlaire said. "These attacks are utterly disgusting and I would never have had any part of it. If I had found out, then I would have found a way to get the information into your hands. And I was looking."

"Oh?" Syanna wondered.

"Why yes. Those poor women. No-one deserves to die like that."

"So do you have any ideas at all?" I wondered.

"Ideas? Theories? Certainly. But nothing concrete. For a start, I am unconvinced that it's only one person but..."

"I don't believe her." Damien insisted.

"I do." I said. "She wanted to make the world a better place, this is a backwards step for everyone isn't it. We know that."

Damien grumbled.

"Thank you Lord Frederick." Lady Tonlaire snapped. "Finally a sensible person."

"I am many things." I retorted, "but I am pretty sure that I am not sensible."

Kerrass snorted.

"I must check though." Syanna said. "Is it definitely not your husband. Is he definitely not involved."

"Of course not. Do not be absurd."

"Why not?" Syanna was implacable.

"These deaths are despicable. My husband was as revolted by these events as anyone."

"So then why...?" Damien demanded.

"That's enough." Syanna snapped. "We do not have a lot of time for speculation. And we can tie ourselves in knots trying to get our new head of intelligence up to speed. What we need now is a target. Who are they going to go for first. Freddie?"

"Yeah?" I looked up from where I had suddenly found my head sinking.

"Freddie, you look grey."

"That's weird because I feel a picture of health."

Guilaume and Kerrass grinned.

Ariadne did not.

Syanna allowed herself a smile. "Today has been a big day for you." She said. "I know it, we all know it and after yesterday with the Witch and your other… problems. It is a small miracle that you are upright at all."

"Hear hear." someone muttered. Lady Tonlaire was looking at me curiously.

"So Ariadne has threatened me with actual death unless I get you to your bed as quickly as possible. To that end, we will do that detailed thinking, I want a starting point from you. Who are they going to come after tonight? What are they thinking now?"

I took a deep breath.

"They have to know." I began, just letting my mind speak while the rest of me tried to relax. I had been pushing aside the physical reactions for a while now.

Strong coffee can only do so much.

"They have to know." I tried again. "That we are closing in on them. The pool of suspects is getting smaller by the day. They have to know that we're on to them. We know about Alain…"

"De Moineau?" Lady Tonlaire asked. "But Jack killed his wife."

"We think that they were clearing a way for Alain to be able to marry Lady Caroline." Syanna said. "It's complicated and we will explain everything after Freddie's gone to bed."

"And it's well known that the man's bored of his wife." Lady Tonlaire mused. "And he's a snake as well." She shuddered.

"And we have their pattern." I went on. "We know that their objective is to undermine the throne, make Syanna and the Knights look incompetent and to remove power from the Knights and The Duchess."

"I am looking forward to hearing how you came to those conclusions." Lady Tonlaire said, a little too eagerly for my comfort. "I mean I can believe it. There are plenty of people who would want to do that, but resorting to this?"

"In short." Syanna said, "It's the only theory that fits all the facts. Don't interrupt him though. We will explain everything while we wait for the next crisis to come up."

Lady Tonlaire nodded.

"I think that there are two options." I said. "The first is that they go to a dragon Fire level. Or that they move to protect themselves."

"One at a time Freddie." Ariadne told me. "What is the Dragon Fire level."

"They have to know we're closing in on them, so they either double their bet or walk away from the table. Doubling their bet means that they go after a VIP. My family, Emma would do, after all. I know that my family are well protected so I use that as an example. Someone like Lady Vivienne or if there's another female advisor that the Duchess depends on. Or another female VIP that the Duchess should be looking after above all others."

"Lady Anne." Guillaume suggested. "After today, it would devastate Toussaint if she died."

"Lady Caroline as well." Damien said.

"Lady Caroline is at the Chapterhouse of the Knights under so much guard that she is probably wishing that she was back with the Witch by now." Syanna said. "And anyone that wants to get to Anne will need to go through a love sick Gregoire. But I will double that guard anyway. But let's save the ideas, what would "walking away from the table" look like Freddie?"

'They will try and find a scapegoat. They know that you, and the Duchess, will never allow this crime to go unpunished." I told them all.

"Too fucking right." Someone muttered. It was a female voice.

"They will want to set up a scapegoat. Someone that is easily believable to have killed all the targets so that they can wash their hands of this attempt at a coup and regroup for another attempt down the line. So who would it be believable that could do all of this and therefore, who would that person go after. Who would their scapegoat choose as a target."

"Witcher Kerrass." Lady Tonlaire said. "I would say the same of Lord Geralt were he here and…" A light went on behind her eyes. "Oh. You know that there's more than one attacker but you kept that secret so that… Oh that's good." For the first time, she looked as though she was impressed. "You people are cleverer than I thought."

"Ok. That's lovely and everything but…" Damien snapped, clearly unhappy with her presence.

"I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH." Syanna thundered. You could have heard a pin drop when she was done. "Right. Ok, that makes sense to me Freddie."

"And me." Damien agreed after taking a breath.

Lady Tonlaire looked astonished at the rage in Syanna's voice. She looked as though the world was changing before her eyes.

"Right. That's it Freddie. Go and get some rest, spend some time with your family and relax. We will need you tomorrow. Ariadne?"

"I will go with him." My fiance said, wrapping her arm around me.

"Everyone else? Who's the target. I want names, no-one's too stupid a suggestion. I want a curfew as well along with penalties for whoever thinks that it doesn't apply to them. Move it."

I did as I was told. I was astonished at how tired I was. Despite this it took me an age to get some sleep. I ate with Emma, Mark and Laurelen who wanted to talk about Anne and Gregoire. I was congratulated on my actions and the things I had done over the last couple of days. I played some cards with Mark to help get my mind off what was going to happen next.

He let me win.

But I was sinking fast. There was no doubt in it.

Ariadne took charge and ordered me to a bath where she acted as nurse. She bathed me and got me into bed, literally tucking me in. She lay on the bed next to me and held me tight as I went through some stuff. I won't bore you too much to talk about it here. Suffice to say that I wept, shook, sweated again and then she soothed me as eventually I fell asleep.

All told, I got three hours of sleep.

"Freddie?" Ariadne was shaking me awake. "Freddie? I am so sorry but I need you to wake up now."

"What? Whass' happening?"

"Freddie. I have hot coffee and a set of sausage pastries that I will force down your throat before I allow you to dress and go out."

I blinked at her until I could see her face.

Which was stone.

"What is it?" I demanded.

"They need you. Lady Duberton, the Colonel of the Imperial Regiment's wife. She was found battered to death at the bottom of a cliff on the edge of town."

"Oh no." I groaned. The vision of a bright, cheerful if subdued, pretty but not beautiful, woman swam before my eyes. Dressed in black with her face bracketed with blond curls that had fallen loose from her head dress.

I had liked her and her husband and had spent some time trying to make friends with the pair of them.

"They need you Freddie."

I nodded and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

(A/N: Sorry for my brief delay. I had a birthday in the middle of that with a not inconsiderable hangover to get over which delayed my writing. There is a tasty no-prize waiting for anyone that can guess which part of this chapter was written while I was still recovering.

There will be a longer delay before the next one comes out as well as I am going away for a week and it is my wife's policy that I am not allowed to take my laptop with me on holiday. Which is fair enough as neither is she.

Have a good time folks. Some people are seeing social restrictions lifting which is lovely, but remember that the virus isn't gone yet. Stay safe out there and thank you for reading.)