28th Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY
The Royal Palace, Chendl, Furyondy
The king of Furyondy tapped the head of his mace into his gauntlets of his left hand.
The hazel eyes of Belvor IV, His Most Royal Highness and Pious Majesty, wandered again from the massive pillars carved in the likenesses of his royal predecessors to the cold blue eyes of Sir Hallian who stood obediently at the feet of the pink marble slabs that supported the royal throne.
The knight recognized the impatience in the eyes and manner of his liege but could do nothing other than clear his throat in an empathic manner and turn again to face the bronzed double doors at the far end of the chamber, some forty feet distant.
Sir Davos Rahldent, standing by those doors, must have heard the sound of approaching footsteps, for he suddenly gestured to two nearby servants, who each grasped the handle on one of the doors and pulled.
Nesco Cynewine, flanked by Comitello, slowly entered the throne room.
Lady Cynewine was clad in brand-new chain mail, over which was a blue tabard. Emblazoned on the front of her tabard was the royal insignia of Furyondy. This was a downwards-facing silver crescent on a blue field in the upper right and three stacked golden crowns on a red field in the lower left.
The ranger carried a round metallic shield with antlers painted on an azure field, its reflection of the numerous torches a testament to the shield's pristine condition.
Nesco wore neither helm nor coif and her brown hair had been cut back down to its usual short length, not quite reaching her ears. Her own eyes stared straight ahead, but the nervousness in her expression was all too evident. She glanced over to Comitello as she had done several times during their walk down the long hallway outside the throne room, but the aristocrat was already moving away to stand dutifully off to the side.
It had in reality been over fifteen minutes earlier that Comitello had shown up and informed Nesco that she was to don her new armor and pick up her new shield, both of which had been waiting for her when she had returned to Chendl and appear at once before the king. However, it seemed much shorter than that to her.
The fact that it was nearly midnight turned a merely unusual request a downright bewildering one for her.
Nesco spared barely a glance at the chainmail-clad Household Regiment, standing stiffly at attention alongside both mosaic-filled walls. She had just noticed something else that arrested her attention.
King Belvor was wearing his full plate armor.
Then she saw that the six figures occupying the scalloped niches against the far wall were also all armor-clad.
On the far left was the elf Cerenellyl, an ambassador from The Knights of The High Forest. The Verdant Order was one of two other knightly societies allied with The Knights of Furyondy. Nesco did not know Cerenellyl beyond their casual meetings at royal functions.
Next to the elf stood Sir Damoscene, in newly-cleaned leather armor. The next niche was occupied by Sir Juntaros, clad in his plate mail.
The leftmost of the three niches on the other side of the throne held Sir Selzen Murtano, also resplendent in plate mail and looking quite different than when Nesco had last seen him. The fifth niche held Sir Gideon, a young knight and friend of Nesco when she had been out in the field with the Azure Order.
Nesco had just started to feel guilty about not keeping more in contact with her fellow Order members when she saw the last man among the six.
Lady Cynewine stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes flew open wide.
Sir Alexor Cynewine stood stiffly in his old but shining full plate, his eyes fixed squarely on his daughter.
All six were smiling, and all six bore expressions of expectant pride.
Nesco wanted to turn and run.
The ranger, trying desperately to keep her knees from giving out on her, looked back up at her sovereign. The king's handsome face smiled benignly at her from underneath his open visor. He nodded slightly.
Nesco took two quick steps forward and fell down upon one knee. She thought Sir Rahldent was announcing her, but sounds weren't coming through very clear to her brain right about now.
"Your Royal Majesty," she somehow managed. "I am ever your loyal and expectant servant."
"Rise, Lady Cynewine."
It seemed to take an embarrassingly long time for Nesco to regain her feet, but perhaps that was only her own skewed perception, for no one's expression changed.
"Nesco Cynewine," Belvor pronounced, using the full weight of his impressive mien. "You have returned to us in triumph, having made your king's will manifest in a manner which exceeded all our expectations, my own included; and do not doubt for a moment that my expectations for you were very high indeed," the monarch concluded, his smile fading to accentuate his sincerity. The smiles of the sextet behind him, however, grew still wider.
"Nesco Cynewine," the king repeated, "it is the judgment of your liege that you have performed not one, but numerous acts of exceptional honor, bravery, courage and-"
The rest of his words were lost. Nesco was suddenly submerged in her resurgent panic.
No! No! By Zeus, not now!
It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
Once the shock had begun to wear off and the reality that she and her friends- Tojo and Talass included- had returned from the last leg of their months-long quest, Nesco had done some intense deliberating in a very short period of time. Numerous possibilities and divergent paths lay invitingly open before her and yet the one which called to her the loudest promised neither riches nor glory.
She could still hear Elrohir's voice.
…we would all be very, very happy if you would come back with us to the Brass Dragon... to live with us.
And despite whatever had transpired between Elrohir and his wife in the Room of Return- and there was no doubt that it was something serious- Nesco knew this was the path she wanted to travel, no matter what the cost.
But she thought she would have time to prepare. Time to broach the subject delicately with her family, her friends in the Order, and most importantly, with her king.
But she was abruptly out of time, and out of options.
Her eyes still fixed firmly on the floor, Nesco did the unthinkable. She interrupted her king.
"Your Royal Majesty, forgive me!"
King Belvor fell silent.
"Please forgive your most unworthy servant, but I must speak on a matter most urgent! I beg Your Highness to grant me this boon!"
Nesco raised her eyes to meet those of her liege. She did not dare to glance at the six people behind him. She knew what she would see in those faces. Surprise, possibly disapproval.
Belvor, always the diplomat, showed only a cool and neutral demeanor. Eyes narrowed slightly; he gave another brief nod.
Nesco rose again to her feet. It seemed to take even longer this time, and she was certain this time the king noticed it.
"Your Most Royal Majesty," she began, keenly aware that the next words she spoke might change her life forever.
"In the months I have spent in the company of these brave and heroic people, I have learned much- not only about them, but unexpectantly-"
She hesitated, a vision of Aslan's face flashing briefly through her mind's eye.
"- of myself as well," she continued, her voice trembling even more than she had imagined it would in her numerous rehearsals of this moment. "Know that I am ever your loyal subject, ready to render any service, even unto my life, at your command, but they have offered me a place among them at the Brass Dragon Inn. I have-"
Again she hesitated. This was the part she knew she would have the greatest trouble explaining. The ranger placed her hand over heart for emphasis as she continued.
"-not a vision, but rather a sense that these good men and women have yet great trials before them, and I desire to be at their side in these struggles. This might lead to a conflict with my other duties and so I once again beg of you, Your Majesty, if my Lord is pleased with my service thus far, do not begrudge your servant her one request, nor think ill of her for it."
Nesco's lips trembled, but she plowed on.
"Heavy is my heart for speaking these words, yet as certain it is for the path on which it leads me. I painfully ask you to grant me the right of secession-"
She heard a gasp from the far wall.
"-and accept the resignation of my commission from the Azure Order."
A silence as heavy as any that had preceded it in the chapel that morning descended upon the royal throne room.
Nesco kept her eyes firmly planted on King Belvor's face, or at least as much of it was visible beneath the raised visor of his helm. More than ever now, she did not dare to look at the people standing behind him. She didn't need to.
She could imagine all too well the look of loss on Juntaros' face. His fear of losing any chance of being with Nesco being realized before his eyes.
The consternation on Damoscene's face. Wondering why his star pupil was deserting the organization she had wanted so vehemently to join less than a year ago, and wondering how Belvor would judge him for her desertion.
And most of all, the hurt and betrayal on her father's face.
I didn't want it to be like this, Nesco's heart cried out from within her chest. I thought there would be more time.
King Belvor sighed. All eyes and thoughts returned to their monarch at once.
"Nesco Cynewine," the king began.
This time, Nesco's name sounded very different on his lips to her now.
"You place your liege in a most uncomfortable position."
His gaze, which had been looking almost wistfully upwards, snapped back down to bore into Nesco's face.
"You ask me for a boon which you know full well I cannot in good conscience refuse. The Archpaladin's Duty to The People stipulates that you shall not serve here when your heart lies elsewhere, and His Duty to A Lady, especially to one of such virtue, makes my decision one of mere formality. I of course shall be candid, Nesco Cynewine. Your leaving the Order is a great blow- for me, for your peers and for all the good people of Furyondy. Nevertheless, I shall grant your request, Nesco Cynewine, but know this first-"
King Belvor sighed again and seemed to stand still taller in his great silver-plated armor.
"As I am sure you have realized by the great deeds you have accomplished and by your summons here tonight, if you do wish to reconsider this decision of yours, which I cannot help but regard as a hasty one, know then that your knighthood is not only assured,"
His hand went abruptly to the hilt of the sheathed sword at his side.
"It is at hand."
Nesco closed her eyes.
Deep down, she had suspected it, but she couldn't afford to dwell on it. It was the greatest of many things that were calling her back from this momentous decision.
Knighthood.
She had wanted it, desired it, craved it so bad she could taste the anointing meersalm oil on her tongue. She could feel the flat of King Belvor's holy avenger tapping on her shoulder.
Her father's dream fulfilled. Her own pride in finally proving herself to Joseph, once and for all.
Nesco opened her eyes. Either the throne room was starting to tilt to one side, or she was in serious danger of collapsing.
"Your Royal Majesty," she said, not quite sure how the words were squeezing past the parched and cracked desert of her throat. "This boon was once my life's wish, and your offering even now brings tears to the eyes of your most unworthy servant, but my heart stands fast in this matter."
What a goddamn lie. You have no idea what you really want, Nesco. Aren't you giving up everything just to chase an impossible dream?
Nesco tried her best to ignore her inner voice, concentrating with all her might on the face of her monarch.
After several agonizing moments, Belvor nodded again. Now his voice sounded weary.
"As you wish, Nesco Cynewine. You have your king's blessing. Go in peace."
She turned to leave.
"Lady Cynewine!"
Nesco's heart slammed back and forth inside her chest cavity. Her feet stopped before expected them to and she nearly stumbled before turning around.
The voice had not been that of King Belvor.
Sir Alexor Cynewine was looking, not at her daughter, but at King Belvor. The elder knight's eyes moved down to his shield and then upwards to meet those of his liege.
After a moment, Belvor nodded to show he had received the unspoken message. He turned back to Nesco and held forth his right hand.
"Nesco Cynewine," the king said yet again, and now the weariness in his voice also carried the unmistakable tint of reproach. "Surrender your shield."
The ranger glanced down at her new shield, emblazoned with the Azure Order's crest. It took a moment for her to understand and then she moved forward slowly, like a sleepwalker, until she was just close enough to offer it to her liege, her arm fully extended as if she was afraid he might lunge forward and attack her.
King Belvor took the shield without a word.
Nesco bowed low and, trying desperately not to run, strode briskly out of the throne room.
Silence, not Belvor, reigned for a few seconds.
Then the king assumed authority again.
"None of you had any inkling of this?" he asked, not even bothering to hide the displeasure in his voice. His question was asked to all six, but the monarch's hazel eyes centered on Sir Damoscene, Sir Murtano and Sir Cynewine. All responded in the negative.
"A great loss for the Order, my liege," offered Sir Juntaros, his voice carrying the dim hope that his king might reverse his decision.
Belvor nodded but seemed distracted. "Yes," he murmured, again tapping the mace into his palm.
"Fortunately," he said after a few moments deliberation, "there exists an option to ameliorate this loss."
The sextet looked at their king curiously. He repaid their looks with an almost mischievous smile.
"Future services," he said cryptically.
Not bothering to explain, Belvor's gaze swiftly landed on the knight still standing by at the foot of his throne, the scroll with the words of the knighthood ceremony still clutched tightly in his gauntlet.
"Sir Hallian!" snapped the king. "Bring me Aslan!"