Chapter 3 [A Quarter League Away and Half of an Hourglass Turn Earlier]

[A/N: Usual copyright notices for Mithian's crew here. Britomart is from Spenser's Faerie Queene. Malodius and Ywain are from Chretien de Troyes' Yvain: the Knight of the Lion. Josiane is from Boeve de Haumtone.]

Hunting party progressed through the woods. Servants and Hangers-On bustled through the area. Yells and screams echoed across the area. Eyes remained alert and ever-watchful for bushes' rustle, leaves' skittering or streak of brown through the thicket. Deer, rabbit, or bird ranked high on Hunter's list.

Charity and the table first…a bit of Sport's pastime too it seemed….

Mithian watched the others' activity from a little ways back. Her eyes swept through the forest. That clearing reflected its counterparts. Activity remained at a standstill. A frown pulled at her mouth. Anticipation had desired Chase and Pursuit. Hunger would gnaw at her subjects' bellies within Luna's next two cycles. Politics and issues pressed down on her as well.

Politics….

Tension knitted her brow. Her back and shoulders tensed. Concerns and Disputes burdened Whitgate's court more so than usual. Nobles argued over shared boundaries. Greed sought to push taxes and tolls above Custom's rates. Brigands lurked in desolate stretches. Border regions needed new surveys. Then, the Old Religion's followers cried out for intervention. A pattern emerged from the reports. Dark clothed vigilante proceeded from village to village. He'd pressure elders. A "trial" commenced. Pre-determined guilt assigned. The stake and flames claimed the accused soon after.

Perhaps Rodor's suggestion to hunt there held a dual purpose. Perhaps, the proverbial stone could kill both birds at once?

Her eyes rolled. Snort escaped her nose. Her eyebrow arched. Gedref is not far from here. I know Father wishes we could have a bigger presence here. Count Bernard likes to make a big display on the Royal Council. He should focus on governing his lands instead. Astolat's relative low yields had concerned Lord Blumenwald and Rodor for years. Bernard fought against royal audits. Wars and concerns prevented Whitgate's intervention in such matters. Suspicions however focused on one man….

…Vigilante? Aredian….

Memoria never let her forget that awful day. Guilt riddled Rodor's conscience. Reyna's screams. Elaine's tears. Her vow to stop such things….

…Vow now spat on….

Count Bernard's hatred must spur this on! She ground her teeth. Gedref's border lay ten leagues at most to the east. Perhaps he encourages Aredian once again? Her fingers tapped the saddle.

"Milady?"

Mithian hand stifled a cough. She spied her fire-haired chambermaid/bodyguard/best friend riding up on her own chestnut-brown steed. She accepted the latter's offered water skin. She swallowed a mouthful from it. "You know my mind better than I do, Britomart."

Britomart bowed at the waist. "I do what I can." She surveyed the woods ahead. "The game's scarce."

Mithian's shrug conceded that fact. "Not much escapes you." She rubbed the back of her neck. Her response held nary a trace of Sarcasm's barb to it. She sucked in a deep breath. "Even in the deadest of winter, there's always something around here."

"Perhaps Count Bernard poisons that too, Princess Mithian?" A dark-skinned woman rode up beside them. Her cloak obscured the gleaming chain mail underneath. A curved blade sat on her back. Resentment billowed in her eyes. "Sir Ywain and Malodius went on ahead."

Pronounced sniff puffed from Mithian's nose. Eyebrow arched toward the newcomer. "Out here, it's simply Mithian, Jasmine. You're a Princess as well as I am."

"Exiled Princess. One day, that will change. For now, I am honored to be your companion, Pr…Mithian." Respect coaxed a royal nod from Josiane. She drew her cloak closer about herself. Frosty cloud wafted from her mouth. "As you are to your father. King Rodor values your aid."

"Aye. That he does." Mithian conceded a nod. Queen Taene's death a decade earlier had brought her brother, Prince Kay, and her into Rodor's political orbit. Martial and Diplomatic endeavors drew Prince Kay away from Whitgate and abroad. Alas, Reader! Close calls caught up to him. An unknown enemy's axe gored Prince Kay's back. Envoys brought the ashes back to Whitgate….

…leaving Mithian to shoulder Advisor's, Councilor's, Crown Princess' and Daughter's respective burdens by herself. Gratitude warmed her for her blessings…namely these companions, Rodor's High Chancellor, Lord Blumenwald, and First Knight, Sir Galahad….

"You are invaluable, Milady. We respect you." Britomart cleared her throat. Conspicuousness reddened her face.

"Thank you, Britomart. I appreciate that." Mithian spied the returning bush beaters. "I believe we have an update. Josiane?"

"I am with you." Josiane urged her white horse after Mithian's. Her eyes noted Frustration and Weariness in the bush beaters' eyes. Furthermore, not even a bird flew by overhead. Even the nearby stream flowed with less than normal force.

Deep Roar echoed over the ridge. Warning alerted the party.

"That was Malodius!" Mithian ground her teeth. Threats and Danger precluded (yet another) hunt for her. "We are close to Astolat. What would be here?"

Sarcastic cough escaped Britomart's mouth. Protests and accusations against Bernard—even to Mithian—still remained above her station. Her eyes narrowed. That man rebels against the King at every turn! When will he and Milady see that Count Bernard is nothing but trouble? She drew her sword. "Behind me, Milady!"

Jasmine dismounted from her saddle. She removed a rolled up woolen bundle. "I will find out for myself." She unrolled the carpet. "Be good, Whisper." She patted her horse's flank.

Whisper whinnied.

"I know." Jasmine tied the reins around the closest tree's branch. "I am sorry, Dear One." She stepped onto the woolen transport. A mental cue later, she floated into the air. Then, she streaked off toward Malodius' roar. Mindset shifted from hunt to confrontation. Cannot that useless count oversee his lands? Really? Perhaps Ywain has this matter in control? By the Prophet! I hope so! She set her jaw as the carpet streaked over the treetops.

Mithian turned to the servants. "Dagobert, remain here with everyone. Britomart and I will be right back." She noted the heavy set man's nod. "Britomart!" She spurred her own horse on.

"Milady, wait!" Britomart shook her head. Rashness urged Mithian ever onward in most regards. Sir Galahad and the King would lecture me soundly. Still, Princess Mithian is right. If it is that vermin, Count Bernard, he has to be dealt with! Hang on, Milady! I'm coming! She urged her own horse to a full gallop. Pursuit built up speed toward the brewing confrontation.

Purpose would uncover much more than bargained for it seemed. Hunt had different game than anticipated….