Chapter 5

It was late in the evening when they arrived at Tristania, the capital of Tristain. The tall white walls that formed the perimeter of the city reflected the dying sunlight, setting it aflame. Outside the walls were vast crop fields that stretched on for many acres all around the city, and even now farmers could be seen hard at work, pouring all of their effort into the scant few hours of daylight that remained.

Henrietta's procession came up along the western road. As they trundled along, the farmers nearest to them quickly set down their tools and dropped to their knees to bow until the princess and her entourage had passed them by. When Alex saw this from inside her carriage, he found that it made him feel uncomfortable, not so much from the sight of them paying deference, but because it was yet another reminder that he was truly in another world. More than that, however, he was just glad that they were finally here. It's about damn time, he thought to himself.

The distance between the Academy and the capital was not an especially long one. At his top speed, it wouldn't even take an hour for Alex to make the trip. But by carriage and horse, it had taken them most of the day.

It had been an enlightening journey. Alex had discovered something about himself that he had not known. As it turned out, he was not fond of sitting around for hours on end without anything to do, and it drove him nearly mad with boredom. It was not something he was used to. Back in Manhattan, Alex had always been on the move. He had always been hunting, always running, always chasing down the next clue that would lead to the answers he sought. Even when he wasn't actively doing anything, it had almost always been for a purpose, like a lion hiding in the bush as it waited for its prey to walk by.

He was beginning to understand why Henrietta was so eager – or perhaps he should say desperate – to make friends with him. This boredom that he felt was surely not even a tenth of the ennui she suffered as princess for all these years. Were he in her place, he would also grasp at anything to break the tedium. He could sympathize with that.

The procession stopped before a set of massive oaken gates bound in dark iron. The soldiers on top of the walls appeared from behind their crenelated parapets and hailed down at them, and the lead guardsman of the procession responded.

"Open the gates!" he shouted. "The princess had returned! Open the gates!"

There was a brief flurry of motion on the ramparts as the guards moved out of sight. A few seconds later, the gates began to groan, creaking inwards as though it were the maw of some terrible beast yawning open. They began moving forward again, passing between two rows of city guards, who, like the farmers before them, bowed as they passed.

Tristania was not a large city by the standards of what Alex was used to. Compared to the towering heights and the sheer breadth of Manhattan, Tristania was a far more grounded sight to behold. There were relatively few buildings here that reached more than two or three stories high. In the outermost districts, nearly all of them were only a single story tall. The exceptions tended to be clustered around the central districts, giving the city the overall impression of a hill, slowly sloping upwards from base to peak.

Judging by this layout, it was obvious to Alex that the closer to the heart of the city they got, the wealthier the people that lived there were. It made sense, then, that at the very heart of the city, the peak of that hill, would be where the wealthiest and most powerful people in Tristania lived.

The royal family.

In other words, Henrietta's family.

A thought suddenly occurred to Alex as he glanced over at Henrietta and frowned. While she had been unusually accepting of him, would her mother and father, the queen and king, be so tolerant? Somehow, he doubted that. His mind was a dark place, and it instantly began to assume the worst.

He knew from talking with Henrietta and from the reactions of those at the Academy (Jean Colbert aside, though he struck Alex as something of an oddity) that, even in this world of magic, he was still sufficiently unique enough in what he could do to be horrifying in what he did. What would Henrietta's parents do when they learned what their daughter had brought home with her? If all they did was try to make him leave, that was fine. But if they tried something more extreme, if they actively made themselves into his enemies... then there would be problems.

A strange, twisted part of himself almost hoped that they tried to kill him, not because he wanted to die, but because having enemies around him was something he was familiar with. And in this world, where his sense of reality had been so sorely abused over just these past two days, he would welcome anything that could help stabilize his sense of normality.

It took only a second for Alex to quickly push that thought out of his mind, however. He recalled how immensely frustrating it had actually been to fight a war by himself. He did not want that again. And wasn't his entire reason for sticking around Henrietta instead of just taking off on his own precisely so that he could see something besides what he had known in Manhattan? It seemed to him that hoping that the rulers of an entire country would make themselves into his enemies was a counterproductive thing to wish for, then.

"Is something wrong?" Henrietta asked. Damn. He hadn't meant to stare for as long as he did.

"No." Alex averted his gaze again. "It's nothing."

By the time they arrived at the palace, the sky had begun to take on an amethyst hue, and the stars were beginning to shine. The road that led up to the palace was lined on either side with flowering trees, their petals and leaves rustling softly in the cool breeze and filling the air with a pleasant scent. A white fence demarcated the estate, broken up by three entry points, and between it and the palace's outer walls were well kept grounds. To the sides, where the fence ended, large apartments that resembled small mansions helped to box in the yard.

Past the outer wall was a paved courtyard. Here the clip-clop of the horses' hooves rang loudly in the evening air. One hundred men, each dressed in the same sharp uniform with a blue tabard emblazoned with the sigil of a white flower over an eagle's wing, had lined up on either side of the pathway and saluted them as they passed by pressing peculiar swords over their hearts.

The swords were made of a lustrous metal, but they lacked both an edge and a point. Its "blade" was thin and round, about half an inch wide, and overall closely resembled fencing foils. Alex couldn't see how they could be used as weapons. In which case, were those things supposed to be wands? If so, then it was now clear that some sort of medium was required for the mages to cast their spells, or at least aided them in it. That was useful information.

After they passed through the courtyard and continued past the inner walls, they arrived at the palace proper. The palace was a monument of art and architecture. It was constructed in gleaming white marble, which shined like a jewel even in the dying light. In the interstice between the palace's front steps and the portcullis of the inner gates, two rectangular water pools hemmed in the pathway that connected the gate and the door. White lotuses floated on these waters, and a few dragonflies could still be seen flitting about. Further away, flowerbeds and topiaries helped to add a touch to this vision of paradise.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Henrietta said.

Alex looked at her curiously. "You called it a cage before."

"And it most certainly is," Henrietta agreed. "Yet even a cage can be made beautiful if one gilds it with enough gold."

"Is that so?"

"It is so," Henrietta nodded. "But what of you? What do you think of it?"

Alex shrugged. "It's not bad."

"I'm beginning to realize that you are not one to mince for words," Henrietta smiled wryly at him. "Still, this is the first time I've heard someone say of the Palace of Tristain, which is said to have no equals in all of Halkeginia, to be 'not bad.'"

Alex grunted wordlessly in reply. She was right that he didn't like to waste words, but the truth was that fine art had never been an interest of his. So while he could appreciate the beauty of the palace, he didn't feel anything in particular towards it. And by now his eyes had already left the palace for something more important: there was a group of people waiting for them up ahead.

They were a group of soldiers dressed in the same blue outfit as their peers one gate back, but there was one among them that was dressed differently than the rest. Their leader, Alex supposed. He was a man with a wide-brimmed hat, a dark blue cape trimmed with cloth-of-silver and with the same flower-and-wing sigil of the tabards on its back, and possessed a sharp gaze that seemed to pierce through everything.

Their carriage rolled to a stop in front of these men. Before one of them could even begin to move to open the door, Alex had already opened it instead and hopped out. It felt good to finally be able to stretch his legs after so long.

"Alex," Henrietta said from behind him, still inside the carriage. She looked amused, perhaps for the same reason the others stared suspiciously at him. "Will you lend me your hand?"

Alex hesitated for a moment. Then silently, and with some reluctance, he held out his hand, letting Henrietta take it so that she could climb out of the carriage with grace. Mazarin's carriage parked behind theirs, and he climbed out soon afterwards on his own.

The men all bowed, dropping to one knee before the princess. Henrietta allowed them to rest there for a second before raising her hand and saying, "Please raise your heads, my loyal knights."

The knights stood back up as one. Alex noticed that most of them still had their eyes on him, rather than Henrietta. The one with the cape stepped forward, and Henrietta held out one hand for him as he took it and bowed again, at the waist this time, and kissed the back of it.

"Welcome back, Your Highness," the knight said. "It is good to see you returned to us, safe and sound."

"My thanks for receiving me, Sir Wardes," Henrietta said in perfect response. "You fear too much. It was only a short trip to the Academy."

Alex snorted behind their backs. A "short" trip. Right.

"And who is this stranger that is so privileged as to be able ride with you, Your Highness?" Wardes said, turning cool grey eyes towards him.

"He is my familiar," Henrietta replied. "Allow me to introduce you all to Alex Mercer."

Wardes frowned, while behind him the knights all shared a look.

"He is... a human?"

"No," Henrietta said, looking as though she had been expecting this question. "He is a member of a highly intelligent shapeshifting species that is not native to Halkeginia."

That's not a bad cover story, Alex thought. He might have to use it for himself sometime, should the need ever arise.

"I see," Wardes said softly. "So the rumors are true."

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Henrietta said. "What rumors?"

"There has been some talk amongst the nobles of how Your Highness summoned a monster in human form as her familiar." Wardes glanced aside at Alex again, and there was a certain look in his eyes that made Alex decide then that this was not a man he could get along with. "But perhaps this is a topic better suited for a more... closed setting."

"If you have something to say about me," Alex said aggressively, "say it to my face."

Wardes arched an eyebrow at him. "So, you can speak."

"Obviously."

"I've no words I needs share with you, familiar," Wardes turned away from him. "Know your place."

Alex growled and took a step forward. Spying this from the corner of his eye, Wardes's hand went to his sword-wand. But before anything else could happen, Henrietta had taken a step forward, placing herself between the two of them.

"There is, indeed, much to learn about my familiar, Sir Wardes," Henrietta said with a frosty smile. "But while I do not know what kind of rumors are being spread, I think you would do well to be wise than to pay heed to such frivolous gossip."

"Of course, Your Highness," the mage-knight said. "My apologies."

"Your apology is accepted," Henrietta nodded. "More importantly, how is my lady mother doing?"

"She is resting now, but she still grieves for her late husband, our king. She has not left her room today either."

"Has she eaten, at least?"

"Only a little," Wardes replied. "And less by the day. Sometimes, Queen Marianne will hardly even touch the food the servants bring to her. The healers tell me that if she continues this for much longer, she puts her life in grave peril."

"I will speak with her on the morrow, then," Henrietta said. "Perhaps I can persuade her."

"If anyone can, it is only you, Your Highness," Wardes agreed.

"Yes." Henrietta turned to Alex. "I sent word yesterday for your room to be made ready by our arrival. Come with me. I'll show you where you'll be living from now on."

Alex nodded, and he followed after the princess. As they left, he glanced back over his shoulder to throw one last glare at Wardes, and it was for that reason that he noticed the knight leaning closer to Mazarin and whispering something into his ear.

"Cardinal," the mage-knight said quietly, "if I may have a word?"

"Please pardon the mess, Viscount," Mazarin said as he led Sir Wardes into his study. "I haven't had the time to put things back together, and I despise allowing the servants to do anything more than a light dusting. Never know when they might accidentally throw away some important report thinking that it's merely a piece of scrap paper or when they might misplace a book in the name of organization."

"I understand, Cardinal," Sir Wardes answered.

"Come, sit, sit," Mazarin said, gesturing over to two comfy armchairs by an unlit fireplace. He placed a few logs into the hearth and set them afire with a quick spell from his wand. "Now, what is it that you wished to speak with me about?"

"It is the matter of the princess's familiar," Sir Wardes explained. "And of the rumors that surround it. Although Her Highness instructed me to ignore these rumors, I must admit that what I have heard puts me ill at ease. I was hoping that you might offer me your wisdom."

"Certainly. Though I must admit I have yet to hear these rumors as well." Mazarin sighed. "It always surprises me how quickly word gets around. Perhaps you could enlighten me first?"

"Of course," Sir Wardes said. "The stories come in many different shades. Some say that Her Highness has summoned an ancient vampire who has starved for many centuries and now hungers for flesh and blood. Others say it is in truth a demon of the elflands, or perhaps from further beyond. Still others claim it is a fiend, one given shape and form by Her Highness's spell. There are more, but those are the least outlandish among them. But regardless of how they say it, all share the same common thread: the princess has summoned some sort of monster."

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to that," Mazarin sighed bitterly. "I knew that it would, but still I hoped. In a sense, all mages summon monsters, but hers – that 'Alex' – is just too different from what we've ever seen. It troubled all those who laid eyes upon it."

"What was it like, truthfully?"

"When Her Highness first summoned the creature, it was like... an overly large slug, I suppose, black and red and dying," Mazarin said. "But after it devoured a crow whole, all those there saw as a corpse was born, and as a dead man came to life. Founder preserve us, I pray I never see the like again."

"If it is truly as monstrous as you say, do you think we ought to be concerned?" Sir Wardes asked. "For the princess, I mean. Pardon me for overstepping my bounds, but not many are ready to be led by a young woman, especially one that is preparing to wed a foreign king, much less one that harbors such a demon in her own home."

"They will talk, as they always have," Mazarin agreed. "We cannot stop it. And yet you are right. I too cannot help but be worried for Her Highness's sake."

Sir Wardes nodded. "We have not the slightest idea of where this creature came from, what it desires, or what it is even capable of. When I think of that, I find myself unable to relax for even a second, worrying for Her Highness's life. Worse that this creature appears capable of some degree of self-thought."

"It is unnaturally intelligent, for sure," Mazarin said gravely. "Did you know? On our way here, the princess insisted that she be left alone with the beast."

"She would not allow you to ride with her?"

"The princess wished to speak with her new familiar, one-on-one," Mazarin explained. "She would not budge on the issue."

"And now I fear," Sir Wardes said. "She places too much trust in something that is far too much of an unknown."

"Yes," Mazarin said. "Sadly, this trust comes from her loneliness, her desire to have a friend."

"What of my fiancee, Louise Francois?" Sir Wardes frowned curiously. "Are they not friends still?"

"The occasional letters only do so much to assuage Her Highness's feelings."

"Then what if we were to have Louise live here in the palace as one of Her Highness's ladies-in-waiting?" Sir Wardes suggested. "With her childhood friend here with her, I think that Her Highness would not depend so much on that familiar."

"It is a possibility," Mazarin said thoughtfully. "What do you think? I dare say that you know the youngest of the Valliere better than I. Would it work?"

"Louise has always dreamed of attending the Academy of Magic," Sir Wardes said. "But she would never dare to refuse a royal command. Moreover, her own family believes that she is wasting time at the school, so they would be in support of this move."

"You speak somewhat harshly of your own fiancee," Mazarin observed.

"I love her with all my heart," Sir Wardes replied. "And while I believe in her latent talents, it does not mean that others do."

"Except for the princess," Mazarin sighed. "No, while it is a good idea, I fear it shan't work. The princess would never allow her own feelings to stand in the way of her most cherished friend's dream. Alas, at times I fear she is far too kindhearted."

"It is a noble characteristic."

"But not one that is always conducive to good rulership."

"It is true," Sir Wardes agreed gravely. "My predecessor was a subordinate to Karin the Heavy Wind, for a time, and he grew to despise her Rule of Steel. When he was named captain of the Griffin Knights, he defied her by attempting to lead with a kind heart. But kindness so often has a tendency to lead to softness, and softness to a weak hand."

"The Flight of the Griffins, I remember," Mazarin said. "The most humiliating rout suffered by any branch of the Tristanian royal forces in its entire history."

"A most disgraceful lack of discipline, and our eternal shame," Sir Wardes said bitterly. "But I digress. Apologies."

"It is nothing to apologize for," Mazarin said. "In fact, it has given me much food for thought. You are right. While a kind heart is a noble attribute, at times it must be tempered with steel. Her Highness – bless her soul – has too much kindness and not enough steel."

"What are you saying, Cardinal?"

"On the morrow," Mazarin said with a solemn expression, "I shall make a request of her to summon a new familiar."

"That... is rather drastic," Sir Wardes frowned. "Surely there are alternatives."

"There are no benefits to keeping that familiar," Mazarin said. "If it is as you say, then these rumors will only continue to spread, damaging the princess's reputation, making it more difficult for her to rule, and that's assuming that it does not turn on the princess first. Best to nip it now, while we can."

"But that will only engender new rumors," Sir Wardes argued. "In order to summon a new familiar, the previous one must first be dead. What will the people say when they learn that Her Highness had her current familiar killed just so she can summon a new one?"

"They will say it was misfortunate," Mazarin said. "For it is precisely for that reason that now is the only chance we have. Of those that were there for the festival, very few have seen the princess's familiar since it was summoned, and so they only know it as they last saw it: dreadfully weak, and dying. It is not so unreasonable a fiction to say that it perished of some wound or illness suffered prior to its summoning, or from being summoned to an unfamiliar environment. We have a precedent of a similar incident happening, after all, as the princess's grandfather proved."

"She will never agree."

"Then what would you suggest that we do, Viscount?"

"I would..." Sir Wardes began, before he was suddenly cut off as the door to the study slammed open.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Mazarin cried as a gasping knight stood at the door.

"Cardinal, Captain," the knight wheezed. "The princess... the princess and her familiar... they're gone!"