CHAPTER THE FOURTH

Wayfrith.

Belle and Philippe left the tavern quietly, in the same manner as they had arrived. The horse, well fed on straw and vegetables from the tavern's garden, was moving at a brisk pace, and the first day of traveling went smoothly.

In fact, for the first two weeks of travel, their trip seemed almost suspiciously devoid of any trouble, and yet, Belle had a lingering feeling that there was something wrong — but then again, maybe it was all in her head. Since leaving the Jolly Bargemen, Belle had felt oddly empty, and her temples ached. Her heart, too, seemed to be beating at a slightly faster pace than before. She had the strangest feeling that her heart knew something she didn't. But of course, that wasn't possible.

It was on the third and final week on the roads back to Avonlea, when they arrived in the Frontlands, that Belle's premonition that something had gone seriously wrong began to come true.

Growing up under the tutelage of various teachers, Belle had long ago learned the names of all the heads of state in the realm. The Frontlands, which were a week's travel from her father's castle and the capital itself, were under the jurisdiction and governance of a man who was known only as the Duke. Not even Belle's teachers had been able to tell her his true name, all those years ago.

The Duke had always been a highly militant and hot-headed man, who valued his army above all else, and was — unlike many of the chiefs of neighboring towns and regions — not one to gamble away the coffers of his state. All the gold he collected from taxes, and any wealth created by the towns he governed, was used for the training of his army and the purchase of weapons.

In peacetime, it had not been unusual for the Duke's men to do the rounds at least once a month, recruiting one or two young boys and farmers who were dying for a bit of adventure. And their parents let them go, knowing there was no real risk to their lives if they joined in times of peace. Even one of Belle's cousins, on her mother's side, had joined the Duke's army some years ago. Last she'd heard of him, her cousin had been promoted to the rank of Major.

The town she'd just arrived in was the town of Wayfrith, which was where most of the captains and higher ranking officers came from. The sight of men in uniform in the town of Wayfrith was not, and had never been an unusual one to Belle. What she didn't understand was the tension in the air. There was a stench, too - something reeked of copper, though she didn't linger on what it was. All around, in every town they passed and on all the main roads, people seemed to be moving frantically, with their heads bowed low and backs hunched, as though to stay hidden. But hidden from what?

The Frontlands were largely farming lands, renowned for their wheat and their sheep. The garments of some of the members of the Avonlean High Court were spun from the very finest Frontlands wool, and Belle's favorite bread at breakfast had always been made with Frontlands flour. Both the wheat and the wool were known to be of superb quality, and the Frontlanders had always been peaceful, yet proud people. So what was their reason for hiding now? What reason did they have to be so afraid?

Loud voices up ahead interrupted her thoughts. After hesitating for the briefest of moments, Belle put one foot in the stirrup and lifted herself onto Philippe's back. She strained her neck a bit; the shouting grew louder, and she was able to pinpoint it. It was coming from somewhere to her right. She moved Philippe in that direction, and came to a stop when she saw the crowd that was growing in a cluster around a large signpost. She dismounted, and pushed her way past grumbling townspeople to see the sign from up close.

HEAR YE

All Men, Hale and Able, all Ages,

Are to Report to Ruauxfort Barracks for

Assignment in the Duke's Army.

Those who do not Comply

Shall be Punished.

G

Belle blinked. Ruauxfort was the Duke's castle, so it would have been logical if the scroll had been signed with the Duke's stamp and crest. Instead, the notice had been signed with the capital letter 'G,' which was embossed in silver, embellished with curls and furls, and delicate lines. Beneath it sat the royal crest of Avonlea, and the red wax seal that carried the imprint of a ring that Belle had seen used many a time for that exact purpose.

There was only one man who could have signed the decree. The name of her father was His Majesty, Sir Maurice de Gaule*. The shield crest, of course, was her family's own. It depicted a fleur de lys on a slate-blue backdrop, protected on either side by a noble swan. Each swan bore a silver sword, so that the swords made an 'X' at the point where they intersected above the fleur de lys.

When Belle had been younger, she'd complained to her father that their crest didn't seem very brave to her. Weren't noble crests meant to be huge and even a little scary? Uncle Leo's crest had great big giant lions on it, after all.

But he'd simply laughed.

"Oh, don't be fooled," Maurice had said, eyes twinkling. "Swans can be ferocious."

"Like me!" young Belle replied.

"Yes," said her father, "Exactly like you." He winked and tapped her on the nose, before strolling away and leaving her standing on the spot, gazing intently at their crest with fresh, sparkling eyes.

Now, Belle looked at the crest and felt sickened. What on Earth had happened in the six weeks that she'd been gone? Belle had never known him to approve a decree with the word Punishment in it. She'd have never thought him capable of such a thing. It would have been in line with Queen Regina's way of doing things, perhaps. But not her father's.

Looking about her, she quickly realized that it would be prudent to put up the hood of her cloak. It wouldn't do to get recognized now. Lifting it, she concealed her face from view, and left the crowd behind, which grew angrier the longer they stood looking at the sign.

She needed to get back to Avonlea. And soon.

"Go, Philippe," she said. The horse whinnied, then set off at a near-gallop despite the cart they were pulling.

Six more days, Belle thought, and she'd know the truth.

AUTHOR's NOTE:

Hello!

So, about the asterisk:

* de Gaule: "of Gaul." Gaul is a very old Roman appellation for France and the French. Given that we know Maurice and Belle's last name in Storybrooke is French, I thought it would make sense for them to have a family name in their world as well.

Wayfrith and Ruauxfort are names I invented.

"Uncle" Leo is a pre-existing OUAT character. More on that later, however. ;)

Onward!

Thanks for reading,

- Ismann