Chapter 17 - The Golden Princess

The healer had been an elderly man in his early fifties, his neatly-trimmed beard giving him a distinctly reassuring bedside manner. With a well-lined - but not weary - face and kindly green eyes, he'd examined me for wounds in a quietly proficient way. Finding none, he'd treated my bruises and scrapes with something stinging and herbal, then congratulated me on my victory.

In truth, it'd have taken me a few minutes to heal myself. But I'd had more than enough exertion for one day, and I was more than happy to accept the gesture in the spirit which it was intended. Besides, I had no intention of interrupting a professional at work.

More importantly, the healer ensured that a plate of roast beef, a loaf of bread and a herbed cheese were brought in, then encouraged me to eat before returning to the ball. I'd taken his advice to heart, and fallen on the meal with a will; I hadn't realized how ravenous I was, until the last of the crumbs had been brushed away.

"It's been a long time since anyone drew even with the Warrior-Captain," he'd remarked, offering me a cup of well-watered wine. It smelled distinctly astringent, and I sipped it rarely if at all, warming my hands as I listened. "What a match. If you don't mind me saying so, Sir Stronoff was my favorite to win...If I were a gambling man, that is."

"You've never been tempted?" I asked, half-joking. He'd merely smiled - "Lord Raeven prefers certainties," the healer had clarified, and that had been that.

I took my leave about half an hour later, feeling rather more like myself. As my footfalls echoed through the cavernous halls, the sounds of revelry continued unabated in the distance. Hours remained before the great arc of celebration wound itself to a close, but it felt like our part in this was already over. After my match with the Warrior-Captain, everything else felt like an anticlimax.

I thought of the letter, tucked away in my Item Box. The wax seal remained unopened; Not for the first time, I couldn't help but wonder who Climb served - His voice had been quietly reverent, almost worshipful, when he'd been talking about his lady. That intensity again, ever-so-slightly troubling in someone as young as he was. Still, he looked like someone who could take care of himself, less like a servant and more like...

I caught a waft of scent - sweetly dizzying - as I looked up.

"There you are." Hilma purred the first word, dragging it out long; Her calm violet eyes settled on me, as she straightened from where she'd been leaning against the wall. She exhaled, smoke wisping from her full lips as her wavy blonde tresses fluttered faintly at that slight motion.

"You've caused quite the stir, you know," she said, a smile flitting across her pale features. Her pipe traced a slow path through the air, the embers glowing faintly in the bowl. "They were wondering who you were, before...But now? Their speculation would make you blush."

I felt myself relax, ever-so-slightly. There was something reassuringly casual about Hilma's presence, a languid lack of care that put me at ease. It might have been a carefully-cultivated facade, or some elaborate deception - But here and now, I was just glad to see her.

"And?" I asked. "What do you think?"

Hilma pouted, oh-so-thoughtfully. Canted her head to the side, regarding me sidelong. "Hmmm. That's a...complicated question." Her skirts rustled, her heels making no sound at all on the polished floor as she drew closer, one slow step at a time.

"Would it surprise you if I said - Before, I didn't much care?" Her gaze held mine, for a long moment. "You were something of an enigma...And now, you're a mystery."

"What's the difference?"

"Enigmas can be pondered at one's leisure. Mysteries have to be solved." Another slow drag on her pipe. She breathed out cherry-scented smoke, that feline, somehow lazy smile lingering. "A Grandmaster of a knightly Order, who dances like a Re-Estize courtier and who can face the Warrior-Captain of the Royal Select...It feels like someone should have heard of you, and yet-"

She gave a negligent turn of her wrist, flecks of ash fluttering on the breeze.

"...I don't suppose you'll care to give me a hint?" There was a teasing lilt to Hilma's voice, but the contemplative gleam in her eyes rather belied her coy words. Not for the first time, I wondered exactly how much to tell her. How much she'd believe, even if I did.

I shouldn't have. But I asked myself - What harm could it do?

In that, I was wrong. At that time, of course, I didn't know it.

"One question," I said, and her eyes widened. "-I'll answer any one question."

"One question? That's not fair...Now, I'll always be wondering." Hilma's slim fingers cupped her chin, her brow furrowing lightly as she gave it serious thought. More than once, her gaze darted back to me - Sword, armor, face - a measuring air to her, choosing her words carefully…

"-What does Yggdrasil mean?"

I hesitated. Looked at her, her pale face intent in the light. Somewhere close, the music played on, harps and fifes filling the air with their plangent melodies.

"World Tree," I said, at last. "-It means World Tree."

"The Order of the World Tree…" Hilma lingered on the words, tasting them. She laughed, soft. "It sounds...romantic, somehow. Like the stories of the Thirteen Heroes - They had a knight with them too, didn't they?"

She gave me an expectant look, then frowned slightly when I didn't respond. Another lapse; I was exhausted from the brief, blinding violence of the fight, and that made me sloppy. If not for Wolfgunblood's amulet, I'd probably be supine.

"You only get one," I said, and smiled to take the sting from my words. "May I ask a question?"

"By all means," she said. Perfectly poised, almost regal.

"-Will I see you again?"

Now her eyes brightened. I hadn't been serious - I'd merely wanted to change the subject - but at that half-surprised, half-pleased response, I could have kicked myself. Hilma's slim fingers rose as she toyed with her hair, her gaze going over me in detail, now. Speculative, almost analytical, calculating the curve of muscle and bone under my armor, ticking off scars.

The corners of her mouth twitched, a playfully wicked twinkle to her eye.

"Well, well. You surprise me, Sir Samuel - You're more worldly than I thought, hmmm?"

She leaned forward, and placed a hand flat against my cuirass. "I was just about to leave, but...I have a pleasant little retreat in town. It's in no great style, but it's very tastefully finished; Perhaps you'll care to join me there sometime?"

The wicked twinkle trickled all the way down to the upcurving corners of her full lips.

"-I always have time for a dashing young hero like yourself...Grandmaster."

"You misunderstand," I said, easing her back as politely as I could. Her perfume made my head swim, a not-unpleasant sensation. "I wasn't trying to - I mean…"

Hilma chuckled, a low, soft sound. "I know." Her gaze softened, ever-so-slightly. "Do visit sometime, Samuel. We'll drink fine wine, and talk fine talk of important things, for as long as it amuses." She set her head on one side and considered me, for a long moment. "-Well. If you can tear yourself away from your lady, that is."

"She's not my-"

"Oh? Even better, then. Don't keep me waiting - That would be most ungracious, for a knight."

With a flutter of her skirts, she glided off, headed for the great double-doors. I stared after her for a long time, wondering exactly how I'd got myself into this.

When I turned back, Wolfgunblood was coming the other way. He was smirking, a distinctly knowing gleam to his eye as he approached. He gave Hilma an appreciative glance, even as he folded his arms across his chest.

"She's a fine sight, isn't she?" he said. "Glad you're taking my advice. Live it up a little, eh?"

"It's not like that," I said. I twisted his ring off my finger, cupped it in the palm of my hand. "Thanks for this, by the way. Want it back?"

Wolfgunblood waved it away. "Keep it - It's no biggie. Anyway, I was just commenting." He lowered his voice. "You do know she's a whore, right?"

"I'd gathered," I said, dryly. "How are Gustav and Kelart doing?"

"After that show you put on? A lot better," he said. "It's all political shit, but the Crown Prince is way more interested now. Looks like he's finally taking them seriously." His shoulders rose in a shrug. "Anyway, we're getting the VIP treatment. They're lodging us in the guest quarters - No need to waste time on a trip back, you know?"

He yawned, raising a hand to smother it. "About damn time, if you ask me," Wolfgunblood muttered, almost to himself. "-I've never been so bored."

Now that surprised me. "I thought you liked this kind of thing?"

"Usually, but Marquis Boullope's getting on my nerves. Feels like he's working up to propose, you know? Raeven's got his eye on me, too - So that's not much better."

I could sympathize. I had a good idea what he meant, now; the endless measuring looks, the whispering voices that watched and weighed. And, most of all - the truth that couldn't be revealed, no matter what.

"Bear with it," I said. "The sooner we're done here, the sooner we leave."

I had to hope I'd made a difference, when it came to negotiations. The Crown Prince struck me as someone supremely disinterested in anything beyond himself; Kelart's initial appraisal had seemed both startlingly accurate and depressingly optimistic, in light of the actual thing.

A hundred thousand beastmen, I thought. Had Count Randalse made it to the Southern Holy Kingdom? How many men could he hope to raise? How much aid could Kelart reasonably hope to secure?

In the end, it all came down to numbers - I doubted that we'd be able to muster anywhere close to the teeming hordes of the subhumans. At what point could we hope to secure victory? Five to one? Four to one?

...Two to one?

Even then, I knew; the more soldiers and knights brought to bear, the less casualties we'd suffer. But once the Shrouded Prophet got involved, nothing was certain - I had a terrible sense of foreboding, a single sickly thought echoing over and over again in mind.

In the end, I would have to be the one to face him. Alone, or with Wolfgunblood; there simply wasn't anyone else. On some level, perhaps, I'd been hoping that Sir Stronoff would be the answer - But from my clash with him, I knew the truth. The Warrior-Captain, strong as he might be, would never be enough. Not even if he agreed to accompany us back to our war, something I now knew was impossible.

The thought was a terrifying one. When I turned it over in my head, it felt like the walls were closing in.

"Yeah, about that…" Wolfgunblood was frowning, now. I could hear the doubt in his voice. "How much longer is this going to take?" he asked. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we're done, right? Why don't we just…" He made a vague gesture. "-Y'know."

I had no answer for him. Mostly because I wasn't sure, myself.

"A few weeks, at most," I lied. "Having second thoughts?"

I'd swapped Gnosis for the Interfector. My hand rested on the pommel - Not to draw it, just to assure myself it was still there. To let Wolfgunblood know I had it, more than anything else.

He snorted. "As if," he said, his gaze going to the Interfector. "You think I'd pass up something like that? I'm not letting you off the hook that easily, 'Grandmaster'."

I relaxed, ever-so-slightly. I still had his attention, then - But for how long?

Long enough, I thought. After this, it won't matter.

I thought of the letter I carried.

"There is one more thing…"

As it turned out, Kelart knew exactly who the letter came from.

"This is the Third Princess's seal," she said, as she unfolded the letter and looked it over. She frowned, reading it again. "It's just like you said. An invitation to tea...I'm surprised. And here I thought Princess Renner was mostly oblivious to the going-ons at court…"

"Will you be attending, Lady Kelart?" Gustav's voice was carefully level, but he looked glum - From what I'd heard, things hadn't gone too well. Once the first flush of victory had faded, the Crown Prince had proven himself to be exactly as much as a boor as they'd feared. Never mind that his father-in-law had been right next to him, he'd been more interested in propositioning Kelart than arranging a serious discussion.

It didn't help that the Marquises - at his left and right hands - had done all they could to stonewall as hard as possible. Nothing was set in stone, but it was clear that help wasn't going to be forthcoming without a serious price tag.

The simple truth was, with the Annual War on the horizon, the Royal Army had never been both closer yet paradoxically out of reach at the same time. More than a quarter-million men were assembling at E-Rantel, preparing to pass the winter; A shanty-town of prefabricated buildings was slowly being hammered into shape, to hold the huge muster for the conflict to come.

The Empire's postponement of this year's clash had done every bit as much - if not more - damage to Re-Estize's economy as an actual war. There was confusion about whether the still-gathering Royal Army should remain as a garrison force, or be dispersed back to their far-off towns and villages. Either way, the cost would be astronomical.

Meanwhile, ready for war but with nowhere to go, an assemblage of princes, dukes, earls and counts whiled away their time with intrigue, affairs of court and romance. All the while, the great wounded beast of their army slowly froze, even as more men marched to join their already-miserable comrades.

To Kelart and Gustav, the sight was a dismaying one. As Commander Remedios' adjutant, Sir Gustav had a remarkably clear-eyed and unsentimental view of how an army should be girded for war; he knew this was a disaster waiting to happen, and he wasn't afraid to say so. In private, at least, now that we'd reconvened in the palatial chambers set aside for guests of the Crown.

I had to admit - the place dripped with opulence. Four private apartments, draped in silks and embroiderwork, lit by glass-fluted lamps. Every item of furniture was gilded and carved, with vast windows of tinted glass overlooking the sprawl of the city below - What little of it could be seen, from here.

There was, however, little time to enjoy the view.

"It's an absolute bloody shambles," Gustav said, more than a little queasy. "Forget fighting beastmen - Barring a miracle, they'll lose a third of their forces by spring. It's already a disaster, and no-one's shed blood yet."

I'll admit - That shook me badly. But then, I had yet to grasp the simple truth: So much of war is about details.

"Of course," Kelart said. She had been smiling during the banquet, but it'd faded away shortly after, as if she'd used up her quota for the year. "We can hardly refuse a royal invitation. Besides, the Third Princess could convince Lady Lakyus to aid us - That is, if she were so inclined."

Her brown eyes, weary but thoughtful, narrowed ever-so-slightly. "It seems like Red Drop is currently in the Council State...They're facing troubles of their own too, apparently. What kind, it's not quite clear…"

"-Will the Crown even allow the Blue Roses to accompany us?" Gustav asked. He sounded dubious, his words edged with doubt. "At a time like this...Can the Kingdom really spare them?"

My thoughts were along the same lines. There were only three adamantite-ranked teams in all of Re-Estize. The entirety of Endless Crimson Rain was currently asleep a few suites over, though I had the feeling he wasn't alone. With Red Drop otherwise occupied, that left a single team - Adventurers or not, I had a feeling the Crown would want to keep them close at hand.

"One battle at a time," I suggested, as diplomatically as possible. "We can worry about that later. The question is - What does the Princess want?"

Kelart glanced at me, nodding once in agreement. "Exactly," she said, frowning. "She's something of an unknown quantity, I think. An accessory, at best, to the feud between the Crown Prince and Prince Zannac...Though I can't help but wonder-"

Her voice trailed off. She stared off into the distance, for a long moment.

"...Lady Kelart?"

"It's nothing," she said, at last. "An idle thought, nothing more."

A light shake of her head.

"I suppose we shall find out tomorrow, then," she murmured, almost to herself. Her eyes went to both of us, her gaze sharpening; "Be wary. We may be guests of the Crown, but the Crown's strength is not what it once was. There is...a complex agenda at work, here."

Kelart drew a slow breath. Held it, then breathed out. "Thank you for your aid, Sir Gustav - As always, your presence is much appreciated. I shall see you on the morrow." It was a polite but definite dismissal, and he rose from his seat with something like relief. I made to follow-

"Sir Samuel," she said, softly but firmly. "Stay a moment, please."

You'll appreciate the trepidation I felt, as I turned from the door. Gustav offered me a faintly sympathetic smile, as he brushed past; I couldn't help but think of the conversation we'd had, before all this.

I wondered if he thought I was getting my just desserts.

"Does it hurt?"

Kelart's touch was surprisingly delicate, as her fingers explored the bruises and cuts I'd taken. I wasn't quite sure when they'd happened, in truth; My guess was, I'd been pummeled by flying stones, flung up by my own blows when I'd been fighting Sir Stronoff. Marquis Raeven's healer had tended to them, but they still ached, faintly.

For now, I was glad she'd limited her examination to my head and arms - Even holding back, the Warrior-Captain kicked like a sledgehammer. My abdomen still ached, and a rib twinged in a way I didn't remember before.

"Nothing that won't mend," I said. "It's no trouble, really-"

"Don't be a fool," Kelart said, a note of mild annoyance to her voice. "Herbs and ointments," she sniffed, sounding ever-so-slightly put out. "I'm certain I can do better than that."

The soft glow of the lamps filled the chamber with measured radiance, blurring the edges of Kelart's silhouette as she leaned towards me. She'd insisted that I take a seat, that I submit to her examination; who was I to argue with her? White-and-blue robes rustled, faintly, as the priestess shifted her weight, pressing a cool hand to my brow as if checking for fever.

Her lips moved, as she murmured a brief prayer. Pale light flickered at her fingers, and a momentary warmth tingled beneath my skin. I breathed easier, as the pains and aches eased - I could feel it spreading, coursing through me in a generalized sense of well-being.

"There," she said, a note of satisfaction to her voice. Kelart turned away, dipping her hands in a basin of water, sluicing them clean.

I watched her, for a long moment. Then, a shot in the dark-

"-Is something wrong?"

She stiffened. Her slim shoulders tensed, ever-so-slightly, as she went still.

"What makes you say that?" Calm, perfectly composed.

"Call it intuition, if you like," I said. How I'd known, I wasn't sure - Only that I did. "You…" I hesitated, choosing my words with care. "-you don't seem like yourself."

A thought came to me then, and I lowered my voice. "The Crown Prince," I began, uncertain if I wanted to finish that sentence. "Did he-"

She shook her head. "Nothing like that," Kelart said, crossing back to the seat she'd just vacated. She eased herself into it, her legs together, hands carefully arrayed on her lap, as if seated at a pew. It was a subtly graceful motion, one that told of well-practiced ease.

I couldn't help but wonder about the life she'd lived, up to this point. The Holy Queen had ruled for almost a decade, Gustav had told me, and the Twin Wings had been at her side for most of it. It must have been a uniquely lonely existence, so close to the apex of power; I knew she had few friends, confiding only in Remedios. Even then, there were things she couldn't tell her sister.

Kelart gave me a slow, thoughtful look. As if contemplating a puzzle, one she had yet to unravel.

"That...woman from before," she said. "-Who was she?"

"You mean, Hilma?" I knew it was a mistake from the moment I opened my mouth, but it was already too late.

Kelart's eyes narrowed. "You're on first name terms?" she asked, and I couldn't help but marvel at how they thought alike. "You seemed very friendly with her."

I could have kicked myself. "She's the mistress of one of Earl Fondoll's b-" I caught myself just in time. "...natural sons. Which one, she didn't say."

"And an excellent dancer too, apparently," Kelart mused aloud, a distinct edge to her words. "Though I'm certain everyone saw that, of course." A sidelong look, her lips pressed together. "-You still reek of her perfume, you know. It's impossible not to notice." She kept her voice light, but I could tell that didn't bode well.

I sighed. "I was trying to get the Crown Prince's attention," I said. "I was hoping to get him interested, get him talking...Two things went wrong, though."

"Two?"

"I didn't think I'd have to take on the Warrior-Captain. That came as a shock, believe me."

Kelart bit her lip, as if trying very hard not to smile. "I can see that," she allowed. "And the other?"

I hesitated, but then thought - What the hell. "Well," I said, carefully. "-I was hoping you'd offer…"

Now her eyes widened. Her bobbed hair, ever-so-slightly lighter than Remedios', swayed as she turned her head. It may have been a trick of the light, but I glimpsed the beginnings of a flush to her cheeks; She hadn't expected that.

"I…" A slow breath, then another. "-I don't dance," Kelart said. "Not like that, at least."

I shrugged. "Paths not taken, then." I said. Somehow, I kept my voice level. "It was less than ideal, but that's what happens when you improvise."

Don't do it, she'll kill you-

Maybe I was still riding the high of almost-victory. Or maybe, the events of the day had worn away my sense of self-preservation. But I couldn't help but push it.

Couldn't help but say-

"-You could stand to be a little jealous, you know."

There was a moment's silence, the kind on which everything teetered. For a moment, Kelart's eyes shone with some unknowable emotion - But then she laughed, so suddenly it turned into a cough.

"You're more devious than you look, Grandmaster." She was smiling, amused but somehow sly - "Are you sure I'm not setting a bad example?"

"I prefer to call it 'learning from the best'," I said, and bowed. "Good night, Lady Kelart."

She fluttered a hand, in a negligent good-bye. "Good night, Sir Samuel," she said. "Oh, and...Not a word to Sir Gustav, please. For the sake of his nerves, if nothing else."

That was something we could both agree on.

In winter, Ro Lente castle was a spectacular sight. The potent enchantments that kept winter's chill at bay extended no further than the watchtowers; the first snows were soon to fall, but the Royal Palace was a place of perpetual spring. The bright gardens - much like the one where the exhibition match had been held, last night - were even more magnificent in the full light of day.

We stepped through a tall gateway flanked by royal guards, anonymous beneath their gilded helms. White marble pillars rose in a long colonnade, carved in the likenesses of trees in leaf; Water splashed from fountains, the spray sparkling in the bright sunlight above a perfectly clipped lawn.

"Beautiful," Kelart murmured. She was in a pensive mood this morning, gazing at the bright flowers with a wistful air. "It's like the Royal Palace of Hoburns-" Her voice trailed off, and she fell silent.

I knew why. Great King Buser ruled in Hoburns, now. So did the Shrouded Prophet, the true power behind the throne. The thought of a thousand years of history, trampled under the hooves and clawed feet of the beastmen hordes - It must have been unbearable.

We walked in silence for a moment, our feet crunching on the gravel. It was so fresh, so perfect, I wondered if every stone was cleaned by hand. I hadn't seen a single gardener, but it must have taken a small army to maintain all this.

Sir Gustav had been sent to check on the priests and Kashan. That was one of Kelart's main concerns, I could tell; the temples had offered support, but only so much. And with the Annual War on the horizon, an immense amount of grain had been stockpiled for the Royal Army's use. It was anyone's guess how much a quarter-million men would consume, by spring.

As for Wolfgunblood-

"Princess Renner, you say?" When I'd knocked, he'd answered the door in a silk shirt, an empty glass dangling in one hand. "There's no way I'm missing that." I'd snuck a glance past him, and made out a feminine shape curled beneath the blankets.

I had to hand it to him: He worked fast.

In the full light of day, he looked impressively solemn in his black greatcoat. Rowel spurs clinked, as he matched me stride for stride - Pausing, to caress a blue rose with one gloved hand, the petals dyed red in the gleam of his crimson eye.

"They say the Blue Roses take their name from this very flower," he said. "Who knows what ripples sprang from that moment?"

What indeed. Even as I considered that, I glimpsed the solitary figure waiting at the far end of the garden. The servant from yesterday, Climb. He looked different, now; Shod from head-to-toe in plate armor, he gleamed where he stood, as vigilant as an obedient hound. The metal was too bright, too silvery, to be mere steel - I could tell, at a glance, that it was mithril like my own.

Not just a servant then. Mentally, I revised my evaluation of him upward by a few notches.

He looked up, as we approached. The intensity I'd glimpsed hadn't diminished in the slightest; If anything, Climb looked even more alert, as if he genuinely expected to be menaced by assassins at some point.

He saluted, fist-to-chest. "Lady Kelart. Grandmaster Samuel. Ser Wolfgunblood - Thank you for coming. I trust everything was to your satisfaction?"

Kelart's fan fluttered, turning in her hand. "Of course," she said. "I thank you for your concern. Were you waiting long?"

Climb shook his head, expressionless. There was something vaguely disconcerting about him; He couldn't have been older than seventeen, but he carried himself with a severity that belied his age. Just being near him made me feel uneasy, as if I was being scrutinized by the Social Police.

"It's of no concern. Please, this way - My mistress awaits."

As Climb turned away, Wolfgunblood shot me a look. Is he for real? it said, and I nodded.

Something told me he didn't like Climb much. That, to my mind, was a mark in Climb's favor.

As it turned out, Climb wasn't one for small talk. It was clear that he knew Valencia Palace like the back of his own hand, leading us through the gilded halls, up broad staircases and down long corridors without pausing to take directions or check his bearings. It felt like he'd dedicated the entirety of himself to the singular goal of leading us to our destination, and that nothing would stand in the way.

I had to wonder: What was he, exactly? If I had to guess, I'd have said 'soldier' - But that armor looked both custom-made and expensive, and he was too young to be a member of the Royal Guard. Perhaps he was the Third Princess' bodyguard, the way the Warrior-Captain was the King's...But again, I'd have expected someone older.

It was the looks he got that surprised me. The Palace was, of course, host to an army of servants, as much a part of it as the gleaming knights that stood at rigid attention. That included the maids, who bowed and curtsied as we passed. Something like a spasm of disgust or annoyance would pass across their - invariably - lovely features, when they glanced at Climb; an expression that became surprise or admiration when their gaze settled on Wolfgunblood or me.

For his part, Climb took it entirely in his stride. His face was set, carefully guarded, almost blank. I longed to ask him, but it didn't seem the time. One final flight of steps, a turn into a red-carpeted hallway, and Climb paused before an ornate door. For the first time, he looked hesitant - Raising a hand to knock, then lowering it uncertainly.

"Is something wrong?" Kelart asked, and he tensed as if she'd slapped him.

"It's nothing," he said, and knocked. His knuckles rapped against the wood, as Climb raised his voice: "My lady, your guests from the Holy Kingdom - and Wolfgunblood - have arrived."

"Ah, already? Please, come in."

The voice was silvery, girlish, like the chime of a golden bell. As Climb eased the door open with a measured "Excuse me," I got my first look at the room beyond. It was luxurious without being gaudy, a triumph of good taste over the rich opulence of the Royal Ballroom and the rest of the palace - the rays of the morning sun slanting through the windows, casting shimmering highlights on the polished wood of the furnishings.

But it was the room's sole occupant that drew the eye, that utterly captured my attention.

The Golden Princess - Princess Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself - was an exceptional beauty. Blue-eyed and pink-cheeked, her golden tresses fell almost all the way to her waist, her hair held up by an architecture of jeweled pins, a few stray tresses spilling free to frame the incredible softness of her features.

She wore the dress that every other princess's dress echoes - Layered cream fabric, lace, and silk. The tiny coronet she wore, perched atop her blonde tresses, was the only signifier of royalty...But you could tell, at a glance, that she was the highest form of nobility. It showed in every gesture; the gentle turn of her head, the way her slim fingers cupped her cheek…

She smiled at us all, with the open, simple smile of the truly innocent or the truly stupid.

"Lady Kelart, Sir Samuel, Wolfgunblood...Please, be welcome." She regarded us with open fascination, like a child admiring a new toy - Wonder and curiosity alike dancing in her blue eyes. "-Thank you for bringing them here, Climb."

Climb bowed, in a way that said he lived to serve. For a moment, I pitied him: It took all of a glance to see that he adored her, and all of a moment to know that he never stood a chance. No wonder he'd been so utterly dedicated to his task, like Saint George with his dragon - In his place, I probably would have been, too.

I stole a glance at Kelart, as she curtsied low. "We are grateful for your most generous invitation, Princess Renner," she said, all regal politeness. "-What can we do for you?"

A soft giggle, like the tinkling of fairy dust. "Oh, there's no need to stand on ceremony. Please, join me for tea - I so rarely get visitors." She smiled, turning those limpid, innocent blue eyes - untroubled by even the faintest spark of intelligence - to us.

"After all...I want to know all about you."

"...an incredible match. I don't know anything about swords, but Climb told me it was spectacular - Isn't that right, Climb?"

"As you say, Princess." Climb stood slightly behind and to the right of the Princess's chair, at parade rest; He looked well-accustomed to his position, though his vigilance hadn't wavered. The silver gleam of his armor was a striking contrast to Princess Renner's golden hair. In fact, they just looked good standing together - the lady and the knight.

As if she'd sensed my thoughts, Princess Renner favored me with a sweet smile. "More tea, Sir Samuel?" she asked, the black-lacquered teapot still piping with fragrant steam. Kelart had politely marveled at the magical item, and the Princess had been glad to chatter on about it - It just happened that she had Kelart's favorite blend on hand, and both of them had commensurated about taste, quality and...mintiness or something.

"Thank you, your Royal Highness," I said, and she giggled. It was a charming sound, made more so by the disarming air to her - She was utterly, absolutely genuine, in a way that none of the nobles I'd met so far had been. I suppose the Gods favored both the truly innocent and the truly brainless.

I sipped at the amber liquid. It was smoky, laced with honey to counteract the natural bitterness, softly warming. A million miles away from how it was prepared in the Holy Kingdom, that was for sure. "It's delicious," I said, and meant it. "I don't think I've ever tasted anything quite as good."

"My, how polite," she said. "Please, be at ease...You're among friends, here." She turned her head, the charms in her hair chiming softly, that devastating smile focused on Kelart now. "Your champion is most gallant, Lady Kelart."

"Well-" I couldn't imagine why, but Kelart had seemed oddly tense for some reason. Now, at last, she was starting to soften. "...He does have his moments."

"And Ser Wolfgunblood - You should know, the ladies of the Court speak so very highly of you. All those stories...Such heroism. Such valor - It sets my heart quite aflutter. Of course, none of them told me how very handsome you are...I must introduce you, at some point."

"That's...immensely thoughtful of you, Princess," he said, sounding a little overwhelmed. "If there's anything I can do for you, at any time-"

She giggled, as though he was being hugely charming. "It's a promise, then," she said, smiling even more sweetly. "Rest assured, you'll be the very first adventurer I'd call on."

It was all so very civilized. Enough that it struck me as a little surreal - The Golden Princess and the High Priestess of the Four Gods, chatting as they sipped tea and nibbled on treats. Quite a spread; fruit tarts, sweet biscuits, tiny cakes studded with gemlike slivers of berry and dusted with a fine coating of powdered sugar. The tea sandwiches were so fine you could almost see the filling through them, and they melted in your mouth at the slightest bite.

"Your Royal Highness - As it happens, I've brought you a newly-printed volume on the heraldry of the Royal Kingdom. Do you have that one?"

Princess Renner cooed in delight, stroking the black binding as Kelart presented it to her. "Why, no...But it's always been a particular interest of mine!" she murmured, admiring the golden crest on the tome's surface. "I must-"

Her expression clouded over, in belated realization. "Oh…" the Princess murmured. "How thoughtless of me. Forgive me, Lady Kelart - I had almost forgotten." Her gaze was sincere, but troubled. "I've heard the most frightful stories from the Holy Kingdom…They can't be true, can they? You must tell me."

With the utmost care, Kelart lowered her gaze, her voice grave.

"Your Royal Highness," she said - "...I shall tell you all I can."

It told better than it lived, that was for sure. Perhaps it was because Princess Renner was the best listener I'd ever seen: She seemed positively riveted by Kelart's retelling, of how the Shrouded Prophet had shattered the Great Wall and how the Queen and the Twin Wings had confronted him.

"How awful," the Princess murmured, a hand to her lace-trimmed bosom as Kelart described how she'd been taken captive. Princess Renner's doe-eyed gaze went to me, when Kelart related how she'd been freed. To hear her tell it, I'd ridden to the rescue with Commander Remedios as one of the Paladin Order's knights, then carried her away to safety in my arms.

Wisely, Kelart left out the terrible atrocities the beastmen had wreaked on the population of the Holy Kingdom. I suppose that a lady's parlor was no place for relating the mutilations and the hideous sight of subhumans feasting on human flesh. She left out her own maiming and subsequent healing, though her free hand stole to her shoulder as if at a sudden twinge.

Climb was fascinated, too. He wasn't even trying to hide it: His carefully-cultivated mask of calm gave way to open awe, when Kelart described the liberation of Loyts. At her account of the Paladin Order's desperate charge through the gates, he leaned forward, his hands balling into tight fists as he stared, rapt.

It occurred to me that for all his military bearing, Climb couldn't actually have seen much combat. This was likely the closest he'd ever come to war. He kept stealing little glances at me, at the sword at my hip, clearly wondering if it was indeed the Interfector. For my part, I merely sipped tea and looked appropriately solemn, hoping that I wasn't letting the side down.

Even Wolfgunblood was giving me sidelong looks, now - I could almost tell what he was thinking. That's one hell of a backstory, or something like that.

"...and then we set sail for Re-Estize, knowing that only the Crown could aid us," Kelart finished. It was a long retelling, but - from a brief look around - I wasn't the only one who had completely lost track of time.

Princess Renner sniffed, dabbing at her sapphire-blue eyes with a lacy handkerchief. "Those poor people…" she murmured, looking stricken. "Lady Kelart, I see why you came all this way, now. The Holy Kingdom's suffering is a terrible tragedy, one that casts a shadow on us all."

As she calmed, her expression was ever-so-slightly pained. "But...I am merely the Third Princess. And I have no head for military matters…" she gestured with one pale hand, as if to accentuate her helplessness. "Surely Crown Prince Barbro or Prince Zanac might be willing to help?"

"We've made...overtures to the Crown Prince," Kelart said, carefully. "Your Highness...There is something only you could do, to help us." A pause, letting the words hang in the air. When Princess Renner showed only polite puzzlement, Kelart prompted - "You are a close acquaintance of Lady Aindra, are you not?"

"You mean Lakyus?" The Princess' eyes lit up, as she clapped her hands together. "Of course...The Blue Roses. What a wonderful idea...Oh."

As quickly as she'd cheered up, Renner's expression clouded over again. She really was mercurial, like a child - Pleasant and eager to please, but untroubled by even a modicum of intelligence.

"I was just speaking to Lakyus a few days ago...I'm sorry, but it seems they already have other commitments." Princess Renner offered Kelart a sympathetic smile. "If not for that, I'm sure they'd be willing to help...It'd be a pleasure to put in a good word, for such a worthy cause." A meltingly-soft glance, to one side. "One, I see, that Ser Wolfgunblood has already pledged himself to."

"'Other commitments'?" Kelart echoed, almost cautiously. Her brown eyes were ever-so-slightly troubled, as she set her teacup down onto the saucer. "If I may ask...What might those be, your Highness?"

Renner considered this, for a long moment - Her perfect teeth working against her full lips, jeweled coronet gleaming faintly as she canted her head to the side.

"Tell me," she said, at last. "Have you heard of the Nine Fingers?"

Next: The Nine