Vero was, Jean believed, the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

  His men fanned out onto their separate assignments, but he no longer paid them any mind. He saw only Vero. He rode to her and dismounted, but she had reached him before he was back on his feet.

  Jean held her against him tightly and she did the same. She was still strong, but felt emaciated against his chest after her imprisonment.

  Was there no way we could not have come to her sooner?

  “Others- still in the donjon… cells,” she rasped.

  “Henri!”

  The marshal and his men were pulling the defenders out of the barracks where they had gone to hide, depriving them of their weapons and armor. He raised a hand to acknowledge his commander.

  “The others are in the donjon! Make certain their safe!” Jean ordered.

  “Aye!” replied Henri.

  “They’ll be well seen to, my love. Are you well? Have you been hurt?” He kissed her cheeks; she felt so frail now.

  “No, I- feel rather faint…”

  “Are you hungry? Did they feed you, beloved?”

  “Yes, some. Not- not very much.”

  “Here, water!”

  One of his bodyguards provided Jean with a waterskin. He pressed it to Vero’s lips, they were parched. After a moment she started to drink. He could see lice and fleas moving in her hair and clothes, she had been covered in their bites. She was trembling.

  Henri emerged from the donjon with six more prisoners. Each of them appeared to be in the same emaciated and dazed condition as Vero. Five of them were male, the last was female.

  The first man was much older than the others, he looked like he was in his late forties or perhaps his early fifties. He was missing several digits as well as a couple whole fingers. His hair was grey, and he had a hard look in his eyes like an old soldier. Although the effort clearly taxed him, he made a point of walking erect with his head up.

  The next man Jean recognized after a moment, although he had no notion of how the fellow came back into Vero’s acquaintance. Fra Heward was a templar knight of the same divinities Mother Sarah worshiped. He was in his middle thirties, roughly of an age with Jean himself. His eyes were sunken from his recent travails, but he still had the large and formidable build of warrior. His age and health kept him in a better state than the others. He walked with the same vanity as the first man, only it seemed to take less of a toll on him.

  The third man appeared to be in his late twenties, or perhaps early thirties. He had a much more slender build than the others, and made no effort at hiding his desperate state. He walked assisted by the shoulder of one of Jean’s knights. Despite the display, he did seem to have a handsome face, and his dusky skin suggested a southern origin.

  The fourth man was probably the strangest member of the entire group. Jean was not certain how old he was. At times he looked younger than himself, then a moment later he seemed much older. He had a marble holy symbol of the Veiled One around his neck, which none of his jailors appeared to have the courage to take from him. He was emaciated like the others, but it seemed to have no effect on him, other than to lend him an even greater aura of mystic piety. His eyes stared forward unseeing.

  Something about the blind man left Jean feeling chilled.

  Vero whispered into his ear. “The priest is Alexius. He can hear thoughts, or at least he once could. Be cautious.”

  Where have you been, and what have you been doing, little Vero?

  The final male was more of a boy than a man. He was a handsome youth, and tried his best to walk forwards unaided. Although a knight remained right behind him, and often had to steady the lad. He looked at Jean plaintively, and Jean felt a strong sympathy for him.

  Henri carried the woman in his arms. She was rather fair to look at, but dressed like a prostitute. Her hair was dark and her skin was olive. Her body was very rounded and traditionally feminine, but Jean had seen, and hired, courtesans with finer figures before. He felt compassion for her current condition, but with Vero in his arms, he found the other woman uninteresting except for humanitarian reasons.

  “The older man is master slayer Pentarch- you know Heward… the boy is Conner, a slayer apprentice. The other one is Ramiro. She’s my- the woman is Theodora.”

  “Strange company you keep these days, cherie.”

  “I-” Vero tried to speak, but came over faint.

  With the military situation well under control, Jean’s body servant and some trusted camp followers made an appearance. Jean pointed them towards the other rescued prisoners. “Take care of them. Food, fresh clothes, medicine, anything they need. I’ll look after the Lady Veronique myself.”

  “My sword,” said Vero. “And some journals I had with me written in Sylvan, they must be found. It’s urgent.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “You’ve heard that, Henri?” Jean asked.

  The Marshal nodded.

  “Put Lyam on it, I want them found and brought to us in my tent immediately.”

  Wladyslaw showed himself once again before Jean could depart. “We found the Margrave hiding under a table, where do you want him?”

  “Take down the names of the men who found him, then put him in his own dungeon. Tell him that he can wait there until I’m ready to meet with him over supper. Understood?”

  “Aye, my Lord.” The man was wearing a bravo’s smile and walked away with a victorious mercenary’s swagger.

  Everyone around them was glad that the battle had been easy. Only one soldier wounded on their side, four fools died to defend their master, and a couple more locals were injured. Even the defeated looked relieved by the results, although they were still shy for fear of abuse by the victorious- as appropriate to a people vanquished in the midst of ignoble aims.

  Jean left Henri in command now that everything was stable, with orders to speak to the other former prisoners and find the names of any guard or knight who caused offense towards them. They were all to be put into the dungeons with their margrave. Then he took Vero back into his camp.

  Her clothes were filthy, and he sent a servant ahead to draw a hot bath for her. At his tent he quickly doffed his armor and the grooms took it away. When they were alone together, Jean removed her lice infested clothes and helped her into the wooden tub.

  Under her clothes, Vero was as muscular as an athlete. Her arms, legs, and back were covered in fine white scars. Most of them were old, but some had been acquired since she had left him. There were bruises all over her, in unpleasant colors.

  Why did you leave me, chere? I could have kept you safe from all of this.

  He had seen her in worse straits, but only once.

  Jean still considered her more beautiful than any woman he had ever known. Her figure was not classically feminine, but he already had his fill of women like that- courtesans with bodies like that other woman they rescued from the tower.

  Vero’s legs were very fit, her breasts were two small perfect tear drops, and her face was very fair to gaze upon. He could think of no other woman while she was near to him.

  She sank down into the water, which distorted his view of her. While she had been his mistress, Jean enjoyed whenever he could see her undressed, because she rarely let him. Even when they made love, she always tried to hide herself under the bedclothes. The scars embarrassed her.

  The ones along her arms were steady, clean, and regular. The result of blood sacrifice in her work. There were others on her back and down her legs, which were small and shallow, but highly irregular. Some were new hunting injuries she had acquired since leaving him, but something very terrible had also happened to her before she ever met him.

  At first, Jean had speculated it was something her master Aquinas did to her—the man was an utter blackguard—but they did not appear to be lash marks. He could not think what could have caused them.

  Jean removed his upper clothing. He took a cake of soap and brushed it up and down Vero’s arms, then her torso, and finally down her thighs all the way to the ends of her feet. The smallest toe on her left foot was missing. She was covered in filth and grime, but under it, more bruises and angry red bug bites revealed themselves.

  When her body was completely scrubbed clean, he ordered her to take a deep breath and then hold it. She did so, and he pressed her head under the water to rinse out her hair and wash her face. The dead bodies of lice floated to the surface of the water above her. When he pulled her back up, she seemed to have been refreshed by the dousing.

  “You release me just to drown me?” Her voice was weak, but a little of her old fire had returned. There were some smoldering coals left to build up again, at least.

  “I’m only attempting to clean you up a little. It seems you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble since we parted ways.”

  “Why are you here?”

  He kissed her. “To rescue you, cherie.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Famished, but my stomach has been unwell.”

  Jean sent a servant for biscuits and wine. While they waited, he finished washing the muck and vermin from her hair.

  “I’ll have fresh clothes brought for you. Your whole wardrobe is here, and I insisted my tailor come with them if they’re in need of any alterations. Do you have a preference in attire?”

  “My head aches terribly, you chose something.”

  The biscuits arrived and Jean served them to her, alternating between glazes of jam or butter. He fed them to her along with a strong red wine he hoped would help her rest to get her strength back. The food made her more talkative for a time, before the wine pulled her back towards sleep.

  She told him in simple terms what had transpired to her.

  Her order was hunting vampyres in the far north, but they had been betrayed by some of their own. Their fortress was seized by these conspirators, and they had been fleeing south for allies before they were lured into a trap by the Margrave of Redrock. That bastard violated the laws of hospitality by accepting them as his guests, before putting them in irons.

  Jean took the main points, but when she felt tired, he suggested that she should sleep until supper. Something to which she readily agreed.

  He helped her out of the tub and dried her. There was a camp bed already prepared for them, and he briefly settled into it next to her. She pressed her face to his breast, and he rubbed her back the way he remembered that she liked. After a few moments, he could tell by her breathing that she had fallen asleep.

  Jean stood up and left the tent. His valet met him outside and accompanied him to his next destination.

  “How are the others?” he asked.

  “Well enough, my Lord. Washing, eating, or sleeping, in whatever order suits them.”

  “Good. I want a physician to look at each of them eventually, whether they want to see him or not. Tell them each I’d like them to attend supper in the great hall of Redrock with me tonight, but if they feel too unwell to attend don’t press them.”

  They entered a tent with several chests of clothes. The servants held up several dresses for him, two of which took his interest, the rest he ordered put away. They were both red, which Jean thought would match well with Vero’s hair. The first had more complex and intricate inlays, and a deeper more expensive burgundy color. The second was simpler, with a bright and gay red color.

  Jean picked the second. Vero hated elaborate gowns, and she preferred light colors.

  Along with it, he chose several pieces of jewelry; rings, bracelets, and necklaces. He used emeralds as a theme, to match Vero’s eyes. He paired them with silver pieces marked by inscriptions dedicated to Mother Luna, whom Jean knew Vero prayed to- when she was inclined to pray to any god. Vert and argent were also, incidentally, the colors of his house.

  Finally, he selected a mild perfume with the scent of rosemary. Her favorite.

  Once his choices were made for her, Jean left his valet to finish selecting fresh clothes for the others. He returned to the tent where he left Vero sleeping.

  She was exactly as she had been. Sleeping like an innocent, Jean beheld the most precious treasure he had ever possessed; once lost, now returned to him once more. For the first time in many years, he experienced a rare sensation he could describe only as total joy.

  Jean removed the rest of his clothes and climbed back into bed next to her. His movement disturbed her momentarily, but then she wrapped her arms around him and fell right back to sleep.

  After another few minutes, Jean dozed off beside her, in perfect contentment.

  If you're in a position to support my work financially, I have a Uncut versions of all publicly released chapters are available there at the free membership tier, as well as pieces of flash fiction not available here on Royal Road. The early chapter reward tier list is hidden in spoiler text:

  $3 - 5 early chapters, this tier is available as a one week free trial

  $5 - 10 early chapters

  $7 - 15 early chapters

  $10 - 20 early chapters

  $15 - 30 early chapters + the exclusive short stories

  If you've enjoyed this book you can also leave a rating, review, follow, and/or favorite. According to my analytics, most of you aren't members of Royal Road, but even without an account, you can still support my work just by sharing, boosting, and recommending this story to anyone you think may enjoy it. I have listings on and

  Also find me on and .

  Thanks for reading!