They arrived at Redrock.

  Jean dismounted first and assisted her down. Vero held his arm and did not want to let go, even when she was on the ground. Jean must have sensed her hesitance, or perhaps by his own desire, he held her close to him.

  Jean’s valet intercepted them on their way towards the main hall. “The priest, and the two knights, are already inside. The who- the woman, shall also be arriving. Shortly.”

  “What about the other two?”

  “The student-” Heavy disdain. “-claims exhaustion. The boy is suffering very badly, with dysentery.”

  Vero’s grip on Jean’s arm tightened. Conner had been sick and feverish for days. Pentarch and Heward feared he would die soon. Vero hated to think that he might have survived so long and through so much pain only to die in the midst of his rescuers.

  Jean stroked her hand. “Send the physician to look at both, tonight. I want the boy tended to at once. Get the doctor anything he needs.”

  He had said ‘at once’ and the valet left them without another word.

  Jean whispered into her ear. “He’ll be alright.”

  Vero knew he based this proclamation on nothing besides his own natural optimism, but she felt reassured to hear it. Even beyond her own sense.

  Inside the hall, the tables had started to fill, but many places remained empty. Including the head of the main table.

  Her sword was waiting for her there in the castle armory. Vero took it with her, although she had no belt to affix it to in the dress she wore. No one else in the castle would have the strength to lift it, but she hefted it as though it were weightless. For her, it was weightless.

  Just touching the blade put the shades following her at a distance to give her a moment peace from their whispering, but she was certain they would be waiting for her if she strayed too far from Jean’s side.

  “I have to speak to my manservants for a moment. You may sit down in the hall and wait, if you wish.”

  Vero did not reply, but she did not let go of him. He took this for her answer, and seamlessly led her to several persons in turn, having conversations Vero did not listen to.

  When they were finished, he took them to the place of prominence at the largest table. Pentarch, Heward, and Alexius sat to their right. Jean’s mercenary commander and his men sat to their left. Some of the local knights sat at the opposite end of the table, and she observed that they were the most moderate of their captors, those who brought them food and medicine when they were able.

  “Wladyslaw.” Vero noticed that Jean was using the face and voice he kept reserved for court business. “Are these the men who captured the Margrave of Redrock?”

  “Aye, my Lord.” There were three of them, and each was very pleased by their turn of good fortune.

  “I promised you a great reward, and you shall have it. Tonight, you will eat at my own table, and I have presents for each of you. Bring them out.”

  Jean had spoken to no one in particular, but the almost invisible machinery of servants which surrounded him at all times heard him. A motley assemblage of valets presented themselves, bearing several bolts of fine elven silk in many colors.

  It was a kingly gift, and the men debated the allocation of the bolts between them. Vero was certain they all intended to sell the silks as soon as possible, though she doubted any of them possessed the knowledge to accurately judge each bolt’s respective value in comparison to the others. Their choices appeared guided principally by instinct, which was common for men of mercenary character.

  Jean ordered the first course of food to be brought out and the banquet began, but quietly. The atmosphere was extremely subdued, and Jean conducted his table like a council session, or a court case. Vero put her sword on the table beside her and kept a hand over top of it.

  “I am,” he started, “still deciding what should be done with the Lord of Redrock. To that end, I intend to interview those who have had the closest knowledge of the man. I am already well acquainted with the Lady Veronique.” Vero felt a warm hand on her leg. “And with Brother Heward as well. But I have yet to be formally introduced to the rest of you.”

  Pentarch stood up first. “I am master slayer Pentarch, official representative of the Imperial Order of Dragon-Slayers. My family home is long since lost, and I make no claim to any surname.”

  “You are a member of the same order as master slayer Veronique de Loix?”

  Vero wondered if Jean was attempting to bait Pentarch. If Pentarch was offended by the improper use of the title ‘master slayer,’ or the casual way Jean used the surname he once gave to her, he had too much etiquette to show it. “We do belong to the same order, my Lord.”

  Do you?

  “And you?” Jean looked to the next man in line, and Pentarch obligingly sat back down.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “My name is Alexius,” said the blind priest in a flat voice. “I have been privileged to serve the Veiled One.”

  “The Lady in White is usually served by priestesses, isn’t she?”

  “Men do serve as Her priests in some lands, my Lord. Such as the Republic of Whitegate, where I am from.” He seemed inclined to say no more.

  Jean moved to the templar. “And you, Fra Heward? It is good to see you again, but how have you come back into the company of the Lady Veronique once more?”

  “I had gone to the far north on a mission of penance. I encountered the Lady Veronique there, and I have since pledged my sword to her protection.”

  “You have my thanks. My chaplain is of your faith. If this penance of yours is still ongoing, then I'm certain she could be of some assistance to you.”

  “I have already offered her my confession.”

  “Very pious. I believe we are still waiting for one more member of your party, but we can begin our interview now.”

  Vero ignored most of the food, but she took a small bowl of kykeon, which she hoped would ease the turmoil in her stomach. She also hoped she would not have to participate in this ‘interview.’

  “How did your coterie first come to Redrock?”

  Pentarch spoke for their group. “We were traveling to the south, to consult with other members of our order on certain internal issues I am not at liberty to discuss in public.”

  Vero’s stomach did a flip. She caught Jean casting an eye in her direction. She was sure he would question her further once they were alone. She had already told him most of what happened that afternoon, and she intended to tell him anything else he wished to know in time. Surely Pentarch must have presumed as much.

  Then why did he have to be so evasive? And what was this supposed business about consulting with other members of their order in the south?

  Damn him.

  Pentarch continued, “We came here seeking shelter, and we were greeted with feigned hospitality. On our first night we were treated well, but when we attempted to leave the next morning, the Lord of Redrock ordered us to be seized, beaten, and brought in chains to his dungeon.”

  “He offered you hospitality of his own free will before taking you prisoner?”

  “Yes, my Lord. It was his own men who invited us to dine with him in this very hall.”

  “Was he attempting to interrogate you, or to compel you to confess to a crime committed upon his lands as he held you?”

  “No, my Lord. None of us were ever accused of a crime, and all of us were subjected to torture.”

  “All the men?”

  “Both men and women, my Lord. They were motivated, I think, only out of personal cruelty.”

  “I understand. Please continue.”

  “We were kept in filthy cells and given only moldy bread and dirty water, when we were fed at all. The guards were encouraged to abuse us at their pleasure. They beat the men with clubs and… injured- Theodora in other ways.”

  Vero remembered how Conner had similarly been ‘injured,’ but she was glad Pentarch had been delicate in how he spoke. The boy certainly did not need further humiliation piled on top of the suffering he had already endured. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on her trencher.

  Jean removed his hand from her leg and replaced it with an arm around her waist, drawing them nearer. “For what reason did they abduct you?” he asked.

  “The Margrave’s family have been corrupted by vampyric influence. We were seized on the orders of their undead masters. They often drew blood from us and sent it away, but I know not where.”

  “Father- Brother, you can you confirm this heresy?”

  Alexius nodded his head slowly. “Yes.” He still had the look of a hollow man.

  Vero noticed Dora silently enter the hall and delicately take a seat between Alexius and Heward, which they had kept open for her. Vero tried to find her eyes, but Dora kept them pressed to the table. Vero wanted to go to her, but she feared the emptiness she would have to traverse between Jean’s arms and hers.

  “And you, Brother?” If Jean noticed Dora enter, he did not show it.

  Heward had noticed, and took a moment to realize he was being spoken to. “Ah- I have made a full report to Mother Sarah and your marshal of all the crimes and heretical acts I witnessed while held here. I believe there is more than sufficient evidence to summon an inquisition.”

  A murmur ran through the entire hall. It was the local knights that appeared the most disturbed by this news.

  Jean spoke quickly to retain control of the proceedings. “I wouldn’t like to call for an inquisition- unless it’s absolutely necessary.” He turned to a woman Vero surmised was the chaplain. “Mother, do you believe we have the means here to hold a legal tribunal locally?”

  She was a priestess of the Thesmos. Vero had not noticed her before; she was very small, and vanished into the sea of men when she was sitting beside Jean’s bodyguards. Vero did not recognize her, but she remembered the thunderous row when he dismissed the priest of Helios who had served his father. She presumed this woman was his replacement, the Marquise worshiped the Goddesses of Art and Learning, she recalled.

  Jean was an agnostic, and willing to worship any gods that suited his purpose, usually the Lord of Health or God of Battles.

  Mother Sarah’s clothes were religious, and thus formless, but Vero suspected she had a soft and feminine figure. Scholarly work left little time for vigorous exercise. Her hair was difficult to describe, neither red enough to be red, nor brown enough to be brown. It was longer than Vero’s, but shorter than Jean’s. It curled gently, but mostly fell straight. She wore no cosmetics or paints, but her face was appealing even without them.

  Vero thought she was very beautiful, and she was sure Jean felt the same. Although she was not certain why she should be concerned with Jean’s opinions regarding his priestess at all.

  The old envies and insecurities have already gotten their hooks into you.

  The chaplain cleared her throat to make everyone silent for her to speak. “I believe so, my Lord. Providing that Father Alexius is willing to serve on it.”

  Alexius nodded again. “I am permitted to serve such a function.”

  “Very good.” Jean must have realized that he had filled a plate with food for himself and eaten none of it so far. He took a slice of roast capon, chewed it briefly, but thoroughly, and swallowed. “Fetch the prisoners when we’ve finished eating, we’ll begin at once.”

  The subtle machinery of state again went into motion, but this time, it was soldiers rather than servants who took action. Jean ate with vigor now that he had remembered his hunger. He tried to engage Vero in some distracting chatter with iron-clad cheerfulness and persistence. She did not really wish to be distracted, but once it was clear that he would not be dissuaded, she found herself falling into it.

  “Are you still hungry? Can I have anything else brought for you?”

  “Hm, no.” Vero realized she had finished her meal. Her stomach had finally quieted and she did not want to risk upsetting it again with more food.

  “Perhaps just some bread?”

  “If you wish.”

  Jean called for bread. It was soft and mildly sweet, and Vero pecked at it while Jean brought her up to date on all the doings of her acquaintances and friends in the Fer-Mark since she had left.

  She found Dora looking at her once, but she looked away again when Vero noticed her.

  The supper courses came and went, until the sambocade and brie tarts were brought out. Jean sent a generous supply of cakes to Wladyslaw and his men, and eventually prevailed on Vero to try one tart.

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