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Veronique was not the sort of woman who enjoyed elaborate gowns. The very idea of them grated against her nature. They were difficult to get into, difficult to wear, and difficult to get out of. Fortunately, while she remained mistress to the Marquis de Fer, she had a maidservant provided, to assist her in managing the wardrobe.

And despite her hostility towards them, Vero had accepted the dresses, and jewels, and other gifts. From their first meeting, she had anticipated that he might lose interest in her at any time during her long recovery. And in that case, then she would need those gifts to finance her transition into whatever it was that she intended to do next.

Vero watched the mirror vacantly, as Antoinette stood behind her with a brush, and tried to work the kinks out of her hair. She preferred to keep her hair short, but it had grown down to her shoulders during her convalescence. Jean seemed pleased by it, she believed, so she kept it that way, despite how atrociously tangled it became every night. She marveled at the patience Antoinette exhibited, gently working each knot free. If it had been up to Vero, she would have just wrenched the brush free, pain be damned, just to have the thing done.

She had spent the autumn in the marquis’ camp, while he was on campaign suppressing the earls of Umbria. Once the rebellion had been put down, they returned together to winter at his ancestral estate- a drafty and dour old castle, built into the northeastern foothills of the Ruby Mountains. Her wounds, gathered while subduing the vengeful spirit of a nobleman’s sister, had healed. They had healed slowly, but they had healed.

The marquis made certain that she had the finest priests, with their finest spells and poultices. While she was still undressed and unencumbered, Vero took the opportunity to once again test their effectiveness. She waved off her maidservant, and opened the chest at the foot of her bed. From inside she withdrew her dead master’s long sword, her sword.

The weapon was unnaturally light, but remained perfectly balanced between blade and hilt. The scabbard was plain rough leather, and the hilt had no jewels or adornment of any kind to distinguish it. Vero drew the blade. It was free of rust, and even without recent care, its edges remained razor sharp. Lines of runes, etched in silver, ran along both faces of the blade.

Vero attempted a few simple techniques. Her body responded slower than it ought to have, but she attributed this to her recent lack of training while she mended. Her range of motion was nearly uncompromised, but not quite. There was no disguising the fact that she had lost flexibility in her right leg. She knew there would be no further recovery, not everything was broken in such a way that it could be repaired, no matter the skill of the surgeon. She was just thankful she could still move as well as she could.

Vero returned her sword to its chest, and allowed Antoinette to begin dressing her. “You seem fully recovered my lady.”

She hated to be referred to as ‘my lady’, but Jean had insisted that Vero be addressed as a noblewoman, so long as she was his mistress, at least. “Not quite. I’m nearly a second slower, and my right leg gives me less dexterity than it did before the accident.”

“Well, you’re unlikely to be required to fight anyone at a banquet, so I don’t suppose a second’s tardiness will matter, my lady.”

Vero sucked in her breath as Antoinette cinched the gown closed. She could barely breathe in the damn thing. She had become accustomed to binding her breasts to hide her femininity. Now she found herself in a different binding, intended to achieve the opposite effect, to shrink her waist and accentuate her chest. Wearing it almost gave her an average woman’s bust, but not quite.

The hem was long and intended to drag along the floor, making it a certainty that she would endlessly have her legs tangled up in it. It had ribbons, ruffles, and other flourishes she didn’t know how to identify. She had never seen a less practical garment, and Vero badly envied Antoinette, in her plain servant’s dress.

“How is that my lady?”

“Suffocating.”

“I’m sorry my lady. Is there anything you would like me to adjust?”

Vero gingerly made her way back and forth across the room, practicing walking with the hem dragging around her feet. When Jean gave it to her, he asked that the seamstress instruct her in how to move in it. She was told that it was not the style to lift the dress with her hands, which had been her first instinct. When Vero had asked why, she was told that it was unfashionable, and unladylike, which was the end of the discussion. Instead, she was expected to walk without lifting her feet, but gracefully, so as not to give the appearance of shuffling. It was an esoteric skill she had yet to grasp, not that she had made much of an effort to do so.

She sat down on the bed. “I don’t think it’s intended to be comfortable. It should be bearable for one night.”

Antoinette sat down next to her. “I could tell them you’re not feeling well.”

The banquet was being held to bid farewell to Jean’s cousin, the Duc de Emmoi, who had fought alongside him in Umbria. She doubted the marquis would have any time for her that evening, the Duc disapproved of her relationship with his cousin, but she had been invited to attend.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Vero looked over at Antoinette’s face, and it was plain that the maid was worried about her. Vero kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’ll be fine Antoinette.”

***

Vero and Antoinette had seated themselves in the least busy corner of the crowded hall they could find. Jean was occupied with his cousin, and seated around them were their vassals, including the Earl of Kaer Longus. She was not eager to join them.

Even so the banquet was not so disastrous as she had feared. The spiced lamb and wine were both excellent. The courtiers all kept their distance from the mistress they half-believed had bewitched the marquis, but that suited her tastes as well. Vero really wanted no company other than her maidservant.

“You look very pretty this evening Veronique.” The marquise Marie had approached them from behind, unheard in the din of the crowded hall. She was positively radiant; in an extraordinary gown she wore like a second skin. It was, if anything, even more flamboyant than Vero’s dress- covered in strings and buttons to no purpose which Vero could determine. Her face was painted just enough to highlight her gods granted features, and her long blond hair fell down nearly half way along her back. 

She was accompanied by a train of handmaidens, each more beautiful than the next. They hung around the marquise like jewelry, and each of them only added to her mistress’s own glamor, rather than detracting or overshadowing her in any way. They spread out around the table.

“Th- thank-you. I mean to say- you look very beautiful as well my lady.” Vero replied, hating the way her nerves made her stammer.

“Are you alright dear?”

As it became clear that the marquise intended to sit there, Antoinette quickly stood and offered the chair beside Vero to her, and the marquise took it graciously. Although Vero would have much preferred her to stay, Antoinette stood back with the other maids, to give them some privacy to speak.

The marquise was several years older than Vero, and even a couple of years the senior of the marquis, but she certainly made a good match for him. Vero found them a very attractive couple when she saw them together. She definitely made Vero feel very plain and awkward by comparison.

Vero took a large swallow of wine to try and calm her voice enough to put it on a single track. Then she caught a glance from the marquise, which reminded her that gulping down wine at the table was another distinctly unladylike gesture, and she put her cup back down again. “I don’t usually come to these affairs. I hope my presence here doesn’t offend your ladyship.”

The marquise gave her a smile which made Vero feel as if she was staring into the sun, and she quickly averted her eyes down to her plate. “And why should I be offended by your being here, Veronique?”

By way of an answer Vero directed her gaze up, across the room toward the most crowded corner of the banquet hall, in the center of the assemblage was the marquis. Following her gaze, the marquise began a refined little laugh, before demurely restraining it to a smile.

“Oh Vero, I hope you don’t take offense, but you have the moral sense of a farmer’s wife. So, my husband goes to bed with you. I see no reason why that should bar our friendship. I would even say it give us greater impetus to interact harmoniously.”

Vero realized that she was already past the point of caring about how it might look, and emptied the remaining contents of her cup. “Not to put too fine a point on it my lady, but I was raised in a small village, and had I not left then there’s every chance I would have been a farmer’s wife.”

The marquise put away her smile. “I can see that I have offended you, and that was precisely the opposite of my intention.”

Vero motioned for a servant to bring her more wine. “I suppose this will sound very silly to a courtly lady such as yourself, but when I was a little girl, my mother told me that for every man, the gods created a woman, so that they could love one another and form two halves of a single whole.”

“And you believe I am standing in your way?”

“No, I believe I’m standing in yours.”

Vero felt a gentle hand placed on top of hers. She looked down at it, then followed the body it was attached to until she reached the marquise’ soft eyes. “I sensed you had been avoiding me. In fact, I insisted that you be invited this evening so that we would have the chance to talk. I can see that I should have extended it much sooner. Life has pains enough without us torturing ourselves. What your mother told you wasn’t silly at all. It was very beautiful and true in its own sort of way.

But I want to be clear the marquis and I are married because my father had two daughters and no sons; once the War of the Bastards was over, he began to mistrust his nephew, whom he had put on the throne, so he gave him my elder sister to tame him, and in case that failed I was married to the largest landholder in the kingdom as a counterweight. The first time I met Jean was at our wedding. I think he’s a good man, and I’m on very pleasant terms with my husband, but I don’t love him, or any other man for that matter. My children will inherit this land, and that’s all that is important to me.”

Vero didn’t know what to say. She watched while a servant refilled her cup, and wanted to reach for it and drink it all at once, but she had already had several, and thought better of it.

After a prolonged silence the marquise added. “And whatever your connection to my husband, I do hope that we can be friends Vero.”

***

Vero’s balance had faltered when she tried to stand up, so she leaned heavily on Jean, as he assisted her up the stairs. An elderly female servant was waiting in the bedroom, she deftly pulled Vero out of her clothes, despite her difficulty complying with the woman’s instructions. Once she was naked, Vero flopped down onto the bed as quickly as possible, and tried to make some sense of the room, which she felt certain was shaking. Jean’s servant undressed him in the outer room, and he entered once the old maid had time to leave.

Jean rolled her over onto her back to make room on the bed for himself, and laid down next to her. He began to kiss her at the nape of the neck, and his hand move across her breast. Then he stopped.

“Is something wrong, Vero?”

“The Umbrian earls have been subdued. You said that once you had no further need for his troops, you would bring the lord of Kaer Longus to justice.”

Jean nodded, and tried to adopt the serious demeanor he used while he attended to official court business, even though he was still giddy from drink. “You’re right of course. Things are certainly sufficiently settled now- that a trial shouldn’t bring too much chaos. I’ll inform my Sheriff to begin the proceedings. First thing tomorrow.”

He began to kiss her neck once more and ran his hands up and down her body until he stopped once again.

“I can have my sheriff called up right away, if it would please you. I’d need to put on some clothes first, of course.”

“I need to leave.” The words had left Vero choked for a time, but finally she had gotten them out.

“Are you feeling sick? You had several- well, we all had several cups at dinner.”

“I mean, I need to leave the castle.”

Jean looked shocked. “This instant?”

“No, not this instant of course, but soon.”

That seemed to settle him down. “Of course, it is rather formal, not to mention drafty here. This place has been the seat of my family for centuries, but I wouldn’t call it warm. I have a hunting lodge in the mountains southwest of here, we can go there. The snow should be melted enough-”

“I mean to say, that I need to leave you.”

She had prepared for him to get angry, shout perhaps. Instead, his voice was quiet, wounded. “Why?”

Vero continued to stare upwards and the spinning ceiling. She could tell that Jean was looking at her but she knew that she didn’t have the courage to look back at him. “I don’t belong here. I’m not supposed to be here- with you.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You’re just feeling cooped up because of the winter, and because of your healing, I’m sure of it, but that’s all over now.” She really wished he had started shouting instead.

“I’m not.” Vero protested weakly, but Jean continued to speak at an increasing pace, until he was running on only a single breath.

“We can go out riding now that you’re feeling better, and hunting too while we’re at it. I’ve had new hawks arrive only a week ago now and I haven’t even taken them out yet. Just this evening I was speaking to my marshal, and I told him that I wanted you to teach some of our skirmishers your fighting techniques; no forbidden secrets mind you just whatever basics your order would allow you to pass on, and who knows I may even come and try and learn something myself.”

Weakened by the wine, Vero felt her eyes watering, and she bit her tongue to keep from making any noise.

Jean stopped, and lay down quietly next to her for several minutes, before continuing more quietly. “I won’t force you to stay. I just ask that you stay long enough to give me a chance to try and make you feel like you belong here.”

Vero was too far past words to form a coherent response. So, she shifted over so that their bodies were directly adjacent to one another, and began to cry once she was certain the sound would be muzzled by his chest. Jean put his arms around her, and the wine finally, mercifully, winked her out of consciousness.

***

“Vero, my head hurts.”

Vero had been drifting on the edge of consciousness for some time, aware of the physical sensation that her stomach was not quite right, but with no sense of identity, or perception of the outside world. Then, the sound of Jean’s voice pulled her all the way out of slumber’s womb.

Without opening her eyes, Vero took the shaving razor she knew Jean kept on his nightstand. She opened the very tip of her left index finger just wide enough that a tiny trickle of blood came out, and began to trace a pattern along her stomach based on memory. Then she opened her eyes, and moved to make the same signs along the marquis forehead.

He caught her hand and held it still until she asked. “Would you like me to take care of your head, or not?”

As a reply, he let go and allowed her to continue. She finished the signs and, to complete the ritual, she climbed on top of him to stimulate their vital essences into action.

They had been making love for half an hour or so, when a knock came from the door, followed by the frail nervous voice of the marquis’ squire, who slept on a pallet in the outer room. “I’m really terribly sorry to interrupt- that is to say… to wake you, my lord. But my lord’s chancellor is here. He insists that it’s very urgent, and that you must come right away.”

Both of them stopped moving right away, they held still while the lad spoke, and for a few moments after, before Jean replied. “Tell the chancellor, I’ll meet him in the solarium, as soon as I’m dressed.”

“Shall I send in the servant to dress you, my lord?”

“No, I think I’ll tend to that myself this morning. See to the chancellor and make sure he has everything he needs.”

“At once my lord!”

“And go fetch that woman who knows how my dress goes on.” Vero yelled out after, before the boy had the chance to leave.

“Ah yes! At once my lady!”

Once they were certain the squire was gone, they finished as quickly as possible and the marquis stood up at once to begin pulling on clothes. Vero climbed back under the blankets, intent on another few minutes of sleep. Before he left Jean returned to her side, took her hand, and kissed it.

“I really have spoken to my marshal about you teaching some of your techniques to my retainers. If you’re feeling well perhaps you could spar with some of them this afternoon.”

Then he left and Vero went back to sleep.

***

“I’m not sure why you would ever leave voluntarily. He’s the richest man in the kingdom. I’ve heard that even the crown owes the marquis money.” Antoinette advised Vero between mouthfuls of roast duck.

“As if one will ever collect that debt.”

Antoinette tentatively offered her reply, like a rabbit wary of a stepping into a trap. “Surely the king must have a lot of ways to get money if he needs it?”

“I’m certain he does, but suppose the king decides he doesn’t want to pay his debt with that money; then what is one supposed to do?”

Antoinette pondered the question, and evidently couldn’t imagine an answer, because she remained quiet while they finished lunch, which was Vero’s breakfast. After eating, Vero waited idly by the window while she finished digesting, and watched the men sparring in the courtyard. 

Antoinette entertained herself with some needlework in the corner, where she was diligently went about pricking her fingers and swearing quietly, until at last Vero stood up and began to climb out of her dress.

“Go and fetch me an outfit, with pants and a shirt please.”

Vero had already tied the gown into knots immediately after returning to her room, when she tried to loosen its vice like grip on her chest by herself. Now she had some difficulty getting completely free, even with assistance. At last, she did so, and redressed in the trousers and doublet which Antoinette had brought.

“Are you going riding my lady?”

“Sparring.”

“For the gods’ sake why?”

Vero couldn’t think of an answer but she left for the courtyard anyway. As she left the bedchamber, she nearly stumbled into a young serving boy from the kitchens carrying a tray of sweetbread.

“Terribly sorry my lady- I was told to bring these, bring them to you. The man said, he told me that the marquis ordered this brought up from the kitchens- for you, my lady.”

The whole business struck Vero as rather smarmy, so she dismissed him with a wave. “Of course, he did.” Then called out to her maid. “Antoinette, take care of the lad and we can eat the sweets together when I get back.”

“But they’ll be cold then.” She objected.

“It will be fine, and don’t you dare eat them without me.”

“As you say, my lady.” If Antoinette was trying to make an attempt at hiding her sulk, then it was a poor one.

Vero left them and hurried out to the yard. There she walked over past the practice ring to where the training swords and tough leather pads were stacked, and began to look for some that would fit her size. The marshal had noticed her as she crossed the yard, and he approached to speak with her as she was putting on her pads.

“Lady Veronique, I don’t mind telling you that I don’t like this. I’m not so prejudiced as to deny that you know some techniques. But frankly, I can’t let one of my men hurt the lord’s mistress, and they’ll just be wasting time better spent actually fighting; dancing around trying not to hit you.”

“Tell them I expect them to try and hit me, and if I get hurt then it’s my own fault.”

The marshal grumbled something Vero couldn’t hear, although she could make a fair guess at its content, and he returned to the others. Once her pads were on, Vero approached the entrance to the ring. The sparring had stopped, and she became unnervingly aware that everyone in the yard was watching her.

Plucking up all her confidence, she marched into the center of the circle and looked over to where the marshal and his soldiers were gathered. “Which one of you is first?”

Each of the men traded glances between themselves ranging from the awkward to the dismissive, until one of them, a giant mountain of a man, stepped forward grinning. “Fine, if you’re all too frightened to fight the little girl, then I will.”

The giant was armed with a sword and shield, but Vero turned away a proffered shield of her own in favor a keeping a small dagger in her off hand. There was plenty of room in the ring for several groups to be fighting at once, but everyone seemed to be taking the opportunity to gawk at the oddly matched pair. Since they were all watching, Vero felt bound to give some sort of instruction, so she began. “This is a fair sort of matchup, since a Slayer expects to be fighting something possibly much larger, and definitely much stronger, than yourself.”

The giant bowed with a faint blush. “Thank-you my lady.”

“Because of this, Slayers rarely fight with a shield since it is always our intention to evade rather than block directly which, even under the most ideal circumstances, will still leave you with a broken arm.”

Vero assumed a fighting stance and the giant did the same. They circled each other but, despite his earlier boasting, in the moment the giant appeared to be disinclined to attack her, so Vero stopped and began to lecture again.

“A Slayer also expects to be underestimated by a creature which sees ‘just a human’. A knight may naturally recoil at receiving such disrespect from an opponent, but your enemy’s lack of awareness is nothing but a weakness you can-”

As she had expected, the giant had stopped to listen to her speak. When she had relaxed her guard, he had instinctively done the same. She didn’t waste a moment, but rather attacked at soon as his concentration had lapsed. She darted forward and passed by him, before turning and swinging with all her might at the back of the giant’s leg, which knocked him down to his knees.

Momentarily lost in anger due to his pain, the man let out a roar and tried an awkward spinning blow to hit her, but she easily side stepped the blow. She landed another strike of her own along the side of his head, which left him dazed long enough to continue her lecture.

“After his initial surprise, he then made a hasty unthinking move to cover his mistake and save face, which I also took advantage of. If these had been real swords the first strike would have crippled him, and the second killed him.”

The giant punctuated her lesson with a laugh and returned to his feet. “I deserved that for being such a chivalrous fool. I won’t worry about hurting you if we spar again for real.”

Vero nodded and resumed her fighting stance. The giant did the same. This time he did advance on her. He swung with careful discipline and it was not so simple to step out of the way. She tried a few strikes of her own, but he easily warded them off with his shield.

As the battle continued, Vero found herself barely staying out of his reach, while he carefully worked her towards the fence. Then, just as he had left her no place else to go, Vero vanished with blinding speed and left him with a long slash along the entire length of his back. They returned to their starting positions.

“Your opponent will always be a willing partner in perpetuating the lie of their own superiority. Your task is to lead them forward and be sure that when you do strike, that it is always a decisive blow.”

A shout came from the crowd. “I’ve heard Slayers know techniques for fighting multiple enemies at once!”

Vero nodded. “Very well.”

The giant eased his way back into the group. “The lord’s mistress has embarrassed me enough for one day. I’ll let other men have the honor.”

“How many?” Another of the soldiers called out.

“As many as you think is fair.”

The soldiers took a few minutes to deliberate, before three of them stepped forward and took up triangle point positions around her. They were all very young, and none of them could disguise the fact that they had only started training. One looked cocksure, but the other two appeared nervous.

Vero continued her lecture while they readied themselves. “When fighting a group, it’s important to understand the composition of your opponents. A vampire may form the cult of adherents, but if the cultists are all peasant farmers, then their numbers will be counter balanced by their lack of skill.”

Then, the moment she had finished, Vero threw herself backwards with a wide swinging blow at one of the nervous men. The attack startled him, but he retained enough presence of mind to block. However, Vero didn’t stop and let her momentum carry her past him, where she stabbed her dagger roughly into his liver.

The confident man saw his chance and rushed her, but Vero sent her first victim forward with a kick to the backside, which sent him tumbling into her attacker and knocked both of them to the ground. Then she turned on her last enemy, who dropped his weapon and held up a hand to yield at once when she gave him a fierce look.

Vero returned to her starting point and let the others right themselves and reassume their positions. A pair of more seasoned men drifted out of the audience to join them.

“Without a definite plan, a group makes men hesitate, since they are constantly aware and taking consideration for their companions at all times. One can take advantage of this through rapid unhesitating action. Strike as fast and as hard as possible until you no longer face a group. Don’t hold anything back, because a group only needs you to make one mistake. The longer a fight goes on, the more it plays to their advantage.”

Again, the moment she was finished speaking she lunged towards the same novice again. This time he was ready. Seeing her come at him, he made a stumbling leap backwards. He stayed out of her reach, but was momentarily distracted while he tried to find his footing once again.

Vero had already stopped her feint and turned back the other way, where one of the veterans had been making ready to take advantage if she tried the same tactics again. She ducked low, and used the flat of her sword to bring up a cloud of the soft sand which cushioned falls in the ring into his face.

The other veteran had initially positioned himself on the opposite side from his partner. Rather than attack however, he circled around her in quick, but conservative, movements to keep up his guard and interpose himself between her and his comrade, who was desperately trying to rub the sand from his eyes.

With three of the men out of their original positions a way out had formed between them. Vero took it, she sprinted towards the fence surrounding the training ground and bounded over it in a single fluid movement. The men watched in astonishment as she slowly circled around towards the gate where the audience was situated.

The marshal’s expression was colder than the others. “Your secret techniques include throwing sand in a man’s face and running away?”

“I know knights have idealized the notion of a ritualized duel between equals. But in reality, even if two theoretically totally equal combatants, which don’t actually exist, met in battle, it would be nothing but a coin flip, and their dispute would be more sensibly settled that way. Fighting fair is only a winning proposition when facing a totally outmatched opponent, and you’re more than qualified to teach them that yourself.

In battle one is either advantaged or disadvantaged. Fighting a superior opponent while deliberately restricting yourself is suicidal, and one person facing multiple skilled opponents at once is an impossible battle. Only a fool stays in a fight she can’t win.”

“Watch this one carefully, she’s smarter than you, Henri.” Jean’s spymaster Ser Frederic remarked glibly. Vero hadn’t noticed him watching before. He stood off, away from the soldiers, with the marquis’ scholar Aeolus. “His lordship has requested all of our presences in the council chamber at once.”

The marshal started off towards them, Ser Frederic continued to stare at Vero blankly while she stood where she was. She wasn’t sure why he was watching her until he added: “Oh, perhaps I was unclear. I meant you as well my lady, my apologies.”

Vero followed after them. As they ascended up the tower to the council chamber, Aeolus dropped back to walk alongside Vero and ply her with questions about what she supposed to be the anthropological origins of her order’s unique fighting style.

The council chamber was a large circular room which took up the whole of the tower’s second highest level, and one had to ascend up to the floor beneath, and pass through the chapel there, to reach it. The chapel housed a large altar to King Helios with vessels of gold, and along with it was a smaller shrine to Queen Luna.

Vero had never been particularly religious. Like many thaumaturgists, she tended to consider the gods as symbolic representation of arcane principles and paid them little mind when she wasn’t preparing a working. But each of her companions queued up to genuflect before the altar, so she took the opportunity to recite some of the prayers her mother taught her before the moon shrine.

“How dare you appear before the Queen of the Gods in men’s clothing, whore!” The chaplain father Ignacio was red faced with rage. He bellowed at the top of his voice at her from the door.

The other councilors looked taken aback. But as Ignacio attempted to advance on her Ser Henri had the presence of mind to place himself between them.

“That’s a particularly unpleasant way to greet your lord’s mistress.” Ser Frederic offered his insight from well off to the side of the conflict.

“My lord,” The priest began vehemently slapping his chest. “is the Lord. The Lord of Light, the Lord of Everything! And the marquis should never have taken any mistress in the first place, let alone an apostate harlot!”

By this time Jean himself and come into the chamber, Ignacio redirected his tirade towards the marquis. “I refuse to attend any council which allows a woman to be present. Let alone one who presents herself as a man and holds ideas beyond her station.”

Jean refused to flinch. “You’ll be silent this instant or I’ll find a new god whose priests know how to show respect to their patrons.”

“I served here under your father, whelp. Your family have worshiped the sun for-”

“My mother often complained how you served under my father. My dearly departed sire is dead, the only deity that matters to him any longer is the Veiled One. Get out!”

Ignacio began to sputter ineffectually. “You- you have no right-”

“I own this land! I have every right! Go back to your high priest, explain to him how you’ll make up the short fall from my house’s tithes!”

Ignacio was stunned into silence, but then he turned on Vero again. “This evil succubus will lead you into nothing but misfortune.” And with that he turned on his heel and stormed out.

The others began to slowly go up into the council chamber, but Jean remained behind with Vero who still wasn’t quite sure what had happened. “I’m sorry Jean. I didn’t do anything to antagonize him.”

He gave her a disarming smile and a kiss. “I know you didn’t. I’ve intended to rid myself of that man since my father passed on. This is as convenient a time as any.”

“Won’t this cause trouble?”

“How could it? Is a son responsible for supporting his father’s catamite? The high priest will send me a new chaplain or he won’t. I only ever prey to the Lord of Medicine anyway. Let him speak ill of me, if he will.”

Jean took her by the arm and led her up into the council chamber where he brought her to a seat beside himself at the head of the table. The three council members Vero had come with had been joined by the chancellor, the steward, and the sheriff.

The chancellor, Ser Renaud, began the meeting. “Will the chaplain be joining us?”

Beneath the table Jean placed a hand on her knee, but he kept his face serious. “I have removed father Ignacio from his position. Our chief scholar will be forced to advise us on both theosophistry as well as the arcane until a new chaplain arrives from the Imperial City. Please begin your presentation.”

“Very well.” The Ser Renaud stood up and began. “Several of my lord’s vassals have fallen ill this winter. This is not in itself unusual, of course. However, the number and severity of these incapacitations is both large, and growing, so that it now begins to pose a definite threat to our security. To date a count, a baron, and over a dozen landed knights have died, and many more are ill. Through a consultation with my colleague,” he motioned to Aeolus sitting beside him. “we found that everywhere these illnesses seemed to follow in the wake of my lord’s train, and are far too precise to be a matter of chance.”

“You believe a member of the retinue to be a maleficar?” Ser Mattias, the sheriff, asked Jean.

Jean looked toward Ser Renaud, who nodded.

“I’ll have my men begin a search of everyone’s rooms immediately.” Ser Mattias rose to put his stated plan into action immediately, but was brought up short by the clicking tongue of Aeolus.

“And I suppose you know what to look for to identify a maleficar?” When the sheriff didn’t reply, Aeolus continued. “If you begin charging around like a wild bull then you’ll only make the task that much harder.”

“Then what do you propose?” Ser Henri asked in his usual chilled baritone.

Jean cleared his throat to bring the council’s attention back onto himself. “I have decided to request the services of a professional, Vero?”

Jean squeezed her leg and all the men in the room turned to look at her. Vero cleared her own throat, although she was only concerned with making certain her voice didn’t crack. “Although a magus may use his powers for evil, he- or she, still remains a human, or whatever other sentient it started as. The Slayer’s Code prevents me from taking a contract to hunt any living hominin, for any reason. That’s a matter for the law. I could perhaps assist in his, or her, identification… but nothing more.”

“Of course, I would not ask you to violate any binding oaths.” Jean turned to Ser Mattias. “Are your men competent to subdue an apostate mage?”

“Unquestionably. If your lass can find him, we can put him to ground.”

“It’s settled then. I’m putting Vero in charge of this investigation, and I expect each of you to offer her your full support with whatever she may need.”

Each of the council members voiced their support and Jean dismissed them. Vero waited until they were alone together before asking what had been on her mind. “Why ask me to do this? Surely your spymaster or sheriff would be better suited to the task.”

Jean pulled them closer together so that they were leaning against one another. “Because I trust you Vero, I happen to think you’re the best woman for the job. Neither Frederic or Mattias know anything about magic or poison,” Vero wasn’t certain about the claim that his spymaster knew nothing about poisons, but she allowed Jean to continue. “and Aeolis is too much of a scholar to lead a search for a criminal. I’ll see to it that you’re given a fee of course.”

“Money isn’t what I want from you.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I don’t know.” Vero could feel her mood turning morose. Rather than relent to the emotion, she decided to try and rebalance her humors. She kissed Jean who returned the gesture eagerly. When they broke the kiss, she found that she did feel better. “I suppose I’ll start with the sweets you sent, if Antoinette hasn’t eaten them all by now.”

“Sweets?”

“The sweetbread you sent-?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Vero searched for any sign of jesting in his expression and found none.

She rushed from the council chamber, with Jean following close behind her. Together they raced through the castle until they reached Vero’s apartment. After reaching her destination, Vero was suddenly seized by the thought that she might not want to see what was inside, and stopped just outside the bedroom. Once she was certain Jean was beside her, she nudged the door slowly open.

“Antoinette, come here please.”

There was no response so Vero tried again.

“Antoinette come to the door this instant!”

There was still no reply and Vero felt a terrible certainty about what they would find. Taking Jean’s hand, she led them both inside. In the bedroom, by the window her fears were confirmed.

Antoinette lay unmoving on the floor near the window. Vero knelt down beside her to check for any sign of life, but found none. Jean quickly pulled her into a tight embrace where they stayed until the body had been taken away.

***

Vero walked down the stairs towards the wizard’s laboratory located beneath the castle. Jean had stayed with her for hours, until a message arrived from the capitol which called him away. He had told her to stay in her room, but only minutes later she had left, almost as though in a trance.

“Where are you going?” Ser Mattias’ voice startled her out of her reverie. “You shouldn’t be alone my lady, not under the present circumstances.”

Vero didn’t turn around to face him and began her advance down the stairs once again. “I must see her at least once- before the autopsy.”

Ser Mattias walked in lock step behind her. “I’ll accompany you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Vero found herself hesitating in front of the door until Ser Mattias opened it for her. “My honor compels me, my lady. I hope you understand.”

 She nodded. They moved together through a small straight corridor to another door into the laboratory itself. A mechanism held the second door locked shut until the first had been properly closed and sealed.

Inside the laboratory, Antoinette’s body lay on a slab in the center of the room, stripped naked and deathly pale. Aeolus stood nearby scribing notes onto a sheet of vellum. All around the perimeter of the room, set into the walls, were creches containing an assortment of scalpels, tools, parchment, and other paraphernalia of his profession.

Ser Mattias looked all around the room, while trying his best to avoid noticing the body. He may have been content to ignore the indignity, but Vero was not.

“Could you not leave her at least the barest shred of dignity?”

Aeolus clicked his tongue at her in his accustomed peculiar way and closed the door behind them. “I know she was your friend, but all that’s left here now is meat. Meat, but meat that we can learn from. Once I make the incision in her chest, I’m sure her spirit will fly free from this place.”

Vero ran her hand through Antoinette hair. She pressed her face against Antoinette’s cheek, but her skin felt cold.

“There’s no guarantee of that.” The chill in the basement began to affect her and Vero wrapped her arms around herself. “Once you’re finished with the autopsy, you’ll make arrangements with a priestess of the Lady of Bones to have her placed in an aviary for a proper funeral.”

“Suppose I should miss something during my initial investigation?”

“See to it that you don’t.”

Aeolus just clucked his tongue and shrugged before going to work.

Vero stood back but remained to watch, despite Ser Mattias’ suggestion that they leave. Aeolus paid neither of them any mind whatsoever. Once his initial inspection was finished, he began by opening Antoinette’s chest cavity. It took him a great effort, eventually requiring Ser Mattias to help, after which the knight left for the hall outside to vacate his dinner. Aeolus carefully removed the maid’s organs one at a time, carefully weighing and examining each, before placing them in a brazier to burn down to ashes. He captured the smoke in a glass instrument placed over the flame, which appeared to be designed for the purpose.

All throughout the process Aeolus took notes and constantly referred to texts written in Liturgical and Elven scripts, neither of which Vero understood. Finally, once he was finished, he stood over the body for a long time, seemingly lost in thought.

At last, Vero intruded on his musings. “What have you discovered?”

“Well,” He clicked his tongue. “it’s poison alright, that’s sure enough. But this was far faster acting and more fatal than any of the maleficar’s other work. Previously, everything was disguised as a natural illness, but the maid suffered a seizure then her heart stopped, a minute at most.”

“At least she didn’t suffer long then.”

Aeolus shrugged, still lost in thought. “I suppose not.”

“Could this be the work of someone else then?”

“There’s no way to tell for certain. But my intuition-” He made a queer sort of face at her. “-tells me that it’s all the work of the same man.”

“If that’s the case then he or she must be aware of our investigation, and feels that they must no longer hide their work as natural illness. But the sweetbread was delivered before the council meeting, so who knew before then?”

“The chancellor Ser Renaud, Father Ignacio, and myself. You believe the maleficar is on the council?”

“Perhaps, but it’s possible the poisoner is just a hireling, working for a paymaster.”

 “Of our two suspects, the former chaplain obviously appears the most suspicious, after this afternoon’s outburst.”

“Of our three suspects- but yes, I agree about starting with the priest. What do you know about him?”

“You think that I am a suspect?” Aeolus sounded more delighted then offended.

“I consider it a possibility of course, why are you so excited?”

“I’ve just never been accused of something so exciting before.” He hurriedly scribbled out a few notes. “You wanted to know about Ignacio, you said? He’s the oldest member of the council, or at least he was. The marquis’ father installed him in the position when he first inherited the title. I don’t trade in gossip, but you’ve already heard the rumors that the previous marquis used him as a woman, which was always something of an open secret. I won’t miss him; all he ever did was toady up to the father when he was alive, and antagonize the son once he was dead. He was originally from the Imperial City, so make of that what you will.” Aeolus gave her a look which told her exactly what he made of the priest’s origin.

“It explains why the old marquis found him so pliant.”

Aeolus chuckled, then stopped, and then started again. “I won’t gainsay my lady’s judgement.”

“And the chancellor?”

“Ah yes.” Aeolus scratched his chin and began to pace back and forth across the room. “Ser Renaud was also raised to his position by the marquis’ father, a decade or so before the old man’s death. He’s the second son of a noble family in good standing; they’ve served the crown in Vermillion for generations, and the man himself as always fulfilled his duties faithfully. I don’t see why he would betray the current marquis now, but there it is.”

“And which crown did his family serve in the war?”

“The true crown, of course, and all the way through the conflict even.”

“That puts them on a very short list of patriots then. What about yourself?”

“I don’t pay attention to politics. I couldn’t even have told you which bastard was which until the whole thing was over.”

Vero shook her head. “I meant what was your history in general.”

“Oh yes.” Aeolus’ eyes lit up. “I forgot that I was a suspect as well for a moment. I came here after graduating from the University at Whitegate where I specialized in alchemy. I hate to say it, but I really couldn’t be the one responsible.”

“Because?”

“I have no motive. Really, I’m just a simple scholar. All I’ve ever wanted was a place to pursue my research, and I have that. Money and politics are really of no interest to me. In fact, the marquis has been very eager to pursue some of my most outlandish ideas that even I don’t really expect to work. So, you see, it really is in my best interests to keep him in power.”

“A lot of people act against their own best interests.”

“A lot of uneducated people, yes. But I assure you I’m nothing of the sort. No, no. I always act in my own best interest.”

***

Vero spent the night with Jean in his room. The next morning, she made her way to the chapel, with the sheriff once again at her side. She didn’t really expect the disgruntled priest to attack her, although if he did so, it would certainly be annoying while she was wearing a dress and had no weapon to hand. It was simply that, given his hostility to her, she doubted she could compel him to answer any questions without proof that she had the force of the law behind her.

The door into the private apartment was open and servants were constantly moving in and out packing up and taking away the priest’s things. As he saw her, Ignacio began to shout at once. “Leave me in peace, whore! In your vainglory you lead the marquis and yourself to destruction. I will not hear your mocking or your scheming, witch!”

Sensing a confrontation that they wanted no part of, the servants instantly found occupations which required them to be elsewhere.

“I have a few questions to ask-” Vero began but Ignacio quickly interrupted her.

“Your charms are nothing to me. Slut! Go offer yourself to the stable hands if your still not sufficiently sated with the filth of your adultery!”

Vero gave Ser Mattias a nod and he attempted to ease the situation as diplomatically as he could. “Father, please. We have been ordered by the marquis to investigate our lord’s vassal-”

Ignacio interrupted once again. “He’s no lord of mine, and the Fiend can take him for all I care now! And mark my words, that is where this demoness now leads all of-”

Ser Mattias brought the tirade to a halt by smashing his mailed fist down on the nearby table. “Listen here now, you bugger! You’re still on the marquis’ land and you’ll answer our questions here and now, or I’ll have you clapped in irons and dragged to the dungeon and we can hold our interview there.”

Ignacio was uncomprehending in his rage for several moments in which he sputtered ineffectually before he sunk down, beaten, into a chair. “It seems the gods have found me too prideful, and decreed that I must face yet further humiliation.”

With the priest sedated for the time being, Ser Mattias allowed Vero to take the lead once again. “I’ll come straight to the point father. We have reason to believe that one of the council members aware of the poisonings before this afternoon’s meeting is involved with the conspiracy.”

“I see your plot now. Not content to merely harry me from my position, you now see fit to have me disgraced, and executed as well perhaps.”

“Father, my only goal is to discover who is behind all of this. Is it you?”

“No.”

“Have you any idea who it could be?”

“You have come to me after desecrating a poor child’s body with that warlock, and then you accuse a holy priest of the sun of black magic? If this is not a cruel jest on your part, then you are simple minded beyond even the limitations of your sex.”

“You are accusing Aeolus of being the maleficar?”

“All mages are maleficars. They vary only in the range of the obscenities they commit.”

“I see. Do you have any objection to us searching through your belongings?”

He began to get upset once again, before remembering his untenable position. “I most certainly do, although I can see that I have no choice in the matter.”

Father Ignacio left in a very black mood. Vero and Ser Mattias spent the rest of the day going through the priest’s personal belonging. Ser Mattias looked through the furnishings for hidden compartments and tapped on the walls, searching for secret passages. Vero let him amuse himself, and concentrated on the priest’s books and correspondence for anything which might be incriminating.

Father Ignacio had been a great collector of letters, and had piles of such, exchanged between himself and the old marquis. Presumably he had reacquired his own side of the conversation after his partner’s death, because Vero found them both together. In his writing, she found Ignacio really quite tender and she could see very little of the bellicose old man who had shouted such horrible things at her.

Vero could confirm that the priest and the Jean’s father were definitely lovers and, to judge from their letters, extremely devoted to one another. At times, their communication became downright lurid and Vero found herself blushing at their implications. The marquis was very bawdy, and Ignacio was almost hopelessly romantic about their union. Through it all she could not help but think, a man so obsessed with perfection and purity would not stoop to the level of black magic, no matter how unpleasant she might find him socially.

At length, Vero found the opportunity to pose a few questions to the sheriff. “Ser Mattias, how long have you been on the council?”

Ser Mattias dropped his own investigation at once, eager for the distraction of conversation. “Not long. I’ve been friends with the marquis since we were boys, Fredric as well, although he was always the rascal of our group. When his father died the new marquis dismissed the old sheriff and gave us positions on the council.”

“What happened to the previous men who held your positions.”

“The old marquis never kept a spymaster. Or if he did, we have no notion of who he was. The previous sheriff was nearly sixty, the marquis gave him some land and put him out to pasture.”

“Do you think that father Ignacio could be responsible for these murders?”

“Are you asking what my instinct tells me?”

Vero nodded.

“I don’t think he is.”

“What do you make of his accusation regarding the chief scholar?”

“It’s my guess that there’s more prejudice in it then serious conjecture.”

Vero put down the letters she had been reading and stretched the stiffness out of her muscles. “That’s my feeling as well, but that would leave only the chancellor. Does he have any magical knowledge or secret alliances that you know of?”

“He’s never studied magic at an accredited university; of that much I’m sure. His family is noble and of good standing. He has no foreign ties that I am aware of, although it wouldn’t be much of a secret alliance if he informed the sheriff.”

“His family home is in Vermillion, isn’t that correct?”

Ser Mattias nodded. “His father and elder brother are both members of the king’s court.”

“I see.”

Vero returned to her letters, and Ser Mattias returned to pulling out drawers looking for false bottoms.

***

Vero walked slowly into the temple aviary. She felt stiff and tired from the previous day’s investigation, which had revealed nothing in the end.

The marquis’ mortuary complex was only a couple hours ride from the castle, but they had taken such a somber pace that most of the morning had already passed when they arrived. Jean was beside her and lent her his arm for support. She decided not to resist any emotion for the time being. Once the funeral was over, she would have no time for anything besides her work.

From above them, far up in the vaulted dome, came the cacophonous calls of countless crows. Besides the two of them, the chamber’s only other living human habitant was the funerary priestess who stood beside Antoinette preparing her for the ritual. After the autopsy, Aeolus had sewn the body closed again as best he could and she now lay in a plain white shift on the marble funeral bier.

The priestess ignored them and continued her work. It was terribly cold in the chamber, and after sitting for a few minutes Jean bundled them both up in his cloak as they waited. Vero practically hid beneath it to obscure her tears.

On the periphery of the room there was seating for the bereaved, and at intervals more mourners began to trickle in and take their places. Vero saw some of Antoinette’s fellow servants as well as an older couple who must have been her parents. Finally, the marquise arrived with her maids. She approached Vero and her husband.

“Are you alright dear? This must have been a terrible shock.”

The marquise directed the question at her, and Vero managed a weak nod in reply. From there the marquise moved to Antoinette’s parents. She took a seat next to them where she did her best to comfort the distressed mother.

Once everyone was in attendance, the priestess began to recite the funeral prayers in Liturgical with a loud and deep voice. Incense had been placed around the body at each compass point and the whole aviary began to fill with thick, fragrant smoke which left Vero feeling lightheaded. With the rites completely underway she soon found herself sobbing uncontrollably.

As the chanting continued the priestess began to cover the body in white poppy petals. Her voice was rising higher and higher in tambour until the whole room seemed to be reverberating from it. Then it abruptly ceased, and in a mass the crows descended, covering the body entirely and tearing it to pieces.

The birds feeding frenzy lasted only a few minutes before there was nothing left but a skeleton and scraps of fabric. With the funeral over, the priestess doused the incense and retired from the aviary, accompanied by several acolytes who arrived at the very end of the ceremony to take the bones away. They would be ground up that evening for reagents, and presumably her parents would also take a pinch to place in their family urn.

Jean gently helped Vero to her feet. Before they could leave however, they were approached by Antoinette’s father with red and puffy eyes. “Thank-you for sponsoring this funeral my lord, I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“It was the lady Veronique who requested it, and I could not in good conscience do otherwise.”

“Yes, thanks to you as well my lady. Antoinette spoke of you often when she came home. She told us what a dear friend you had been to her these past few months.”

Vero couldn’t help but think that if Antoinette had not been so dear to her, the maid would still be alive. She wanted to say something to the mourning father, even if she wasn’t quite sure what, but as she tried, she found herself too affected to manage anything sensible.

Antoinette’s father seemed to understand regardless. “I won’t trouble you any further my lady.” With that he bowed and returned to his wife.

Jean took Vero outside where she sucked in a full breath of fresh air and dried her eyes one last time with his cloak.

“Are you certain you’re alright, Vero?”

“I am. I can’t afford not to be any longer- What is he doing here?”  Vero pointed at the earl of Kaer Longus.

The earl couldn’t help but notice her draw attention to him, so he began to approach them. Vero’s hands balled into fist involuntarily, but Jean took her hands in his and, feigning a kiss, hastily whispered to her. “I’ve received word from the capitol that the crown has forbidden me to move against him. I can’t fathom why. I didn’t know how to tell you after what happened to poor Antoinette. The king has no rights to gainsay how I deal out justice on my land, the earl isn’t even Velian, but this means I have to rally the other major landholders to the cause first. I’m doing my best to resolve the matter swiftly, but I can’t arrest him yet. Please try not to make him suspicious, love.”

The earl bowed. “My condolences on the loss of your servant.”

Vero didn’t respond to the earl, but pulled Jean’s face towards her again to very deliberately whisper back. “Get him away from me this instant.”

Jean nodded. He left her side to grab the earl by the arm and lead him back the way he had come. “Take a walk with me, Conrad.”

Vero watched them depart and focused on stilling the trembling in her hands. She turned to find her horse and discovered Ser Mattias silently standing by. She walked back to her shaggy chestnut mare, and he followed her to mount his own steel gray stallion which stood nearby.

“I’m going to speak to the chancellor. Will you accompany me?”

“As you wish, my lady.”

They found the chancellor in his private office, a cramped little room far back behind the servant’s areas of the castle. It was very secluded, as they approached the door Vero could still hear the usual noise and disorder of the castle, but only slightly, at a muffled distance.

Ser Mattias knocked on the door. The voice of the chancellor soon responded from the other side. “Who is it?”

“It’s me. I have the lady Veronique with me, she wants to talk to you.”

“Yes, of course. Come in.”

Inside, the walls were covered by maps and bookcases, hemming in the small room even further. Taking up almost the entirety of the remaining area was a very fine desk. It looked to Vero to be fashioned of lumber imported from the Whitewood. The chancellor sat behind it thumbing through his correspondence. There was only one seat for a guest due to the lack of space. Ser Mattias stood, practically in the doorframe, where he watched the hall for anyone who might try and overhear them.

“How can I assist you, my lady?” The chancellor asked, keeping his attention divided between her and his letters.

“I wonder, lord chancellor, if you could lead me through your own investigation into the maleficar before informing the marquis?”

If the chancellor was nervous, he hid it very well. “There’s not much to tell, unfortunately. I found the spat of illnesses odd is all, they came to my attention during a routine consultation with the chaplain- Pardon me. -the former chaplain. As a precaution. I checked if any witches, or apostates, or any such types were known to be operating in our region, there were none. And then I brought the illnesses to the court scholar’s attention for his interpretation.”

“What do you mean there are no known apostates near here, may I ask?”

“I have certain contacts at the king’s court. They are a necessity in my line of work. They, in turn, consulted with the university and the temples regarding any priests or magicians suspected of heterodoxy.”

“I see.”

The chancellor must have sensed Vero’s suspicion because he immediately followed with an earnest defense. “I trust my contacts completely. They belong to my own family and their highest concern has ever been the welfare of the kingdom. They would never conspire with a foreign interest to undermine our security; I would stake my life on that.”

“I don’t doubt that, lord chancellor. Thank-you for your time.” Vero stood and curtsied before squeezing her way past the sheriff out into the hall.

Ser Mattias closed the door and followed after her. “And where to now, lady Veronique?”

“Are you enjoying yourself, Ser Mattias?”

He flashed a playful smile. “It is rather fun running around the castle with you and forcing everyone to drop whatever they’re doing and speak to us. But you didn’t answer my question, my lady.”

“I need to speak to the marquise, but I must do it in private so you must wait outside this time.”

Inquiring with the servants, they found the marquise had gone to the old Imperial baths with her handmaids. The baths were located in a light airy room on the first floor where they were kept heated by an underground furnace. They were, of course, segregated between men and women. Vero suggested that he make use of the facilities while they were there, however Ser Mattias chose to remain outside entirely, but still within earshot in case he was needed.

Vero undressed in the changing room and entered the lovely warm and humid atmosphere of the bathing chamber. She found the marquise attended by her maids. Despite the ridiculous nature of the gesture when not wearing any clothes, Vero offered a deep curtsy.

“Oh, do stop being so formal, Vero, and join us.”

Obeying instructions, Vero slipped into the water which she found the perfect temperature for relaxing comfort, and drifted over towards the marquise.

“I need to speak with you, my lady.”

“Well, it seems you’ve already started,” She laughed. “so do continue, please.”

“My apologies, I meant to say that I need to speak with you in private.”

The marquise became a touch more serious, but continued to smile at her. “You heard the young woman; she needs to speak to me in private.”

The maids each began to leave, while Vero came to a stop beside the marquise. Vero waited for the others to depart, but before they had done so she found the marquise touching and studying her arm.

“You’re really rather muscular aren’t you dear?”

“I exercise often, my lady.”

“Yes, I can see that. Your face is very pretty, but if it weren’t for the length of your hair and the slight curve at your breasts and hips, I might easily take you for a boy.” The information was not new to Vero.

“That and a certain other thing which I lack.”

“Well of course there’s that. I didn’t think it bore mentioning.” The marquise giggled again, and Vero felt rather giddy herself in the heat.

“My lady, I have a rather serious favor to ask of you.”

“Well, if it’s serious it had best not wait. What is it Vero?”

“Your elder sister is the queen, and I wonder if you could have her make some discreet inquiries on our behalf. I believe there is a plot against the marquis at the capitol.”

“At what level, of the capitol, are we speaking?”

“The king’s court itself. The chancellor passed on information unknowingly to members of his own family who allowed it to fall into the hands of the conspirators.”

The marquise listened patiently, while Vero unraveled the entire thread of her investigation and the threat of the maleficar. At last, exhausted, Vero finished her story, and let herself sink down into the water until only her head remained above the surface.

The marquise took some time to absorb everything Vero had told her before speaking again. “I’ll do everything I can to help you, of course, I feel I owe it to that poor serving girl. And you Vero, how are you holding up under this burden?”

“As well as I can manage. I may be leaving soon. As soon as the poisoner is caught, I’ll decide. Decide if I go or if I stay.” Floating in the water, Vero felt calmer and more focused than she had since coming to the castle. “I suppose it’s rather arrogant of me, but I’m afraid that I may hurt the marquis.”

The marquise pulled Vero into a soft embrace. “My advice is this: do what feels true to you, don’t fear for Jean. What I see is that he loves you, because he admires you. If you stay only to protect him, he won’t thank you for it.”

When Vero left the bath and dressed again her fingers and toes were wrinkled from the water. The handmaids had been waiting in the dressing room, and helped Vero and their mistress back into their clothes. Outside the dressing room, she found Ser Mattias was still waiting where she had left him.

He bowed to the marquise as she passed with her entourage then turned to Vero. “Have you identified the witch yet?”

Vero nodded and the knight appeared totally astonished.

“Who?”

“We know it’s you.”

Ser Mattias’ jaw dropped, and he began to shake his head. “No! My lady I swear-”

Vero tried to hold her face as long as possible but couldn’t manage a few seconds before bursting into laughter. She felt hysterical and could only speak through laughing gasps. “I’m- I’m sorry Ser Mattias. I do- I do think I know who is responsible- it will take some days- to know for sure. I feel very silly- perhaps I’m just relieved my part in this is over…”

“You’ve certainly been forced to endure a great deal… my lady.”

Vero wiped the tears from her eyes with the cuff of her dress. She was no longer sure if she was laughing or crying. Ser Mattias placed a hand on her arm.

“Allow me to escort you to the marquis’ chambers, my lady.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Thank-you for your assistance.”

“As you wish, lady Veronique.” He gave her a bow and watched as he allowed her to depart alone.

Vero was several steps away and down another hallway, when a servant emerged from a side closet and began rushing towards her holding an armful of wood. She presumed he was on his way down to the furnaces and paid him no special attention, but stood aside to let him pass.

The moment after she had turn away from him however, she heard the thud of the logs striking the floor. In an instant, Vero threw herself forward, while spinning to face the stranger and praying that her feet wouldn’t catch the hem of her dress.

The man held a dagger, and seemed momentarily perplexed that she had moved beyond his reach. In his moment of indecision, Vero grabbled as much of her dress as she could with her left hand to free her feet, and called out. “Ser Mattias, help!”

The assassin lunged again, but Vero evaded his swipe and fell further back. Without weapons, and in the cramped space of the hallway, she couldn’t challenge her opponent directly. Dressed as she was, she wouldn’t be able to outrun him in an all-out sprint either. She began a slow evasive retreat to give herself as much time as possible, and continued to call for help.

The dagger arched out at her again and again, although it never quite reached her. The blade glistened with some kind of oily coating, and she was certain she didn’t want to experience whatever its effects were firsthand.

At last, Ser Mattias rounded the corner with his sword in his hand. The knight appraised the situation in a second, then charged with a roar.

The assassin spun to face him and Vero seized on the chance. She danced forward and grabbed the arm which held the dagger just above the wrist, and held it extended out away from them. “The blade is coated in poison!”

Ser Mattias understood her warning and carefully ended his charge with a well-placed blow to the would-be killer’s immobilized arm. A single slash was sufficient to sever the exposed limb just below the elbow.

The assassin fell to the ground with a scream. After a moment, he regained his senses enough to lunge for his weapon with his one remaining hand. Vero quickly kicked the dagger out of his reach, and Ser Mattias brought down his knee in the center of the man’s back, disabling him.

Saul the Dwarf, the merchant who served Jean as his steward, approached them carefully to see what all the shouting was about. Ser Mattias sent him to find the marquis while he and another arriving guard dragged the assassin down to the basement. Vero carefully picked up the weapon and took it down to Aeolus’ laboratory.

A few hours later she entered the dungeons which were located immediately adjacent to the laboratory. Jean, Ser Mattias, and Ser Frederic were already present and conducting their interrogation.

“In my own house.” Jean’s voice was quiet, but a moment later he lashed out and pummeled the assassin with his gauntleted fist. He was trembling with rage by the time he was finished. “Tell me who sent you.”

The assassin spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground, but did not otherwise respond. He looked like he had experienced at least one beating already. She noticed that Ser Mattias and the guards on hand seemed to be favoring bruised knuckles, the spymaster appeared to have abstained.

He had tried to murder her, and Vero didn’t feel the least bit sorry for his predicament. But as satisfying as it might be to watch, she had better things to do then remain in the filthy dungeon, while the men applied the repeated beatings it would take to break the assassin’s will.

She answered on his behalf. “The Guild sent him. He’s no Slayer, and besides our order, only the priestesses of Affliction know how to create a contact poison like this.” She placed the assassin’s knife on the table nearby.

The poison had dried soon after the attack, but not before she and Aeolus had identified it. A rare herbal oil mixture, invariably lethal unless magically slowed within a minute of exposure. Even then, the recovery would involve a lengthy course of treatment, and survival was not a given.

“Why would the Poisoner’s Guild try and kill you?” Ser Mattias asked.

“As a rule, the Guild doesn’t care about politics, they work for pay.”

The assassin gave Vero a withering look, but said nothing.

Ser Frederic leaned forwards to examine the assassin’s knife closely. “You’re familiar with the Guild, my lady?”

“They’re despicable, they should all be hanged. My former master had some dealings with them, despite my better judgement, and we both came to regret it. Put plainly, I despise them.”

“If the poisoner is just a mercenary, then we still haven’t caught the one responsible.” Jean struck the assassin again. “Who hired you?”

Vero let him have one more crack before interrupting again. “I have a theory as to who hired him, but your wife should be able to confirm if I’m correct or not soon.”

Jean nodded, then turned to Ser Mattias and Ser Frederic. “Continue the interrogation, make use of Aeolus if you have need. I’ll speak to you again tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I will escort the Lady Veronique to her chamber.”

The knights nodded their own approval, and then began to consult with each other about how to proceed.

Jean took Vero by the arm and led her away. Despite what he had said she noticed that he was leading her towards his own bedchamber, but she didn’t voice any complaints. After everything that had happened the last thing she wanted to do was sleep alone.

They lay down together, and although she felt very tired, Vero was also sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep for some time. She closed her eyes and just tried not to think about anything.

A finger began to trace along the lines of scars on her back.

“Where did you get these?”

Vero didn’t reply.

“Are you sleeping, love?”

“No- I… Different places…”

Jean put an arm around Vero and held her close to him. “I have a watch posted at the door. You’re safe here.”

“No, it’s not that. They embarrass me- the scars. May we speak of something else?”

“Here.” He guided her hand to the top of his left ear which he kept beneath his hair; it was cauliflowered. “This happen when I was sixteen, in a melee.” He took her lower to a raised scar along his right ribs. “A jousting injury three years later.” He kissed her neck. “The smallest finger on my left hand doesn’t bend very well anymore after I broke it on this last campaign.”

“I understand.”

“We all have scars.”

“The marquise doesn’t, I’ve seen every inch of her.”

“No, you’re right. She doesn’t.” Jean sat up. “I never met her once before our wedding, but I fell in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her. I was barely a man at that point you must remember, so I was very impressionable. She never returned the emotion, and love can’t exist in a vacuum, not for long at least. It must transform into either friendship or resentment, I chose the first.”

“Did you fall in love with me the moment we met?”

“No.” He lay back down very matter-of-factly.

Vero wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say, but it was not that and she began to laugh.

“You must remember I was several years older when we met. I thought you were a very silly, but also very brave girl, and maybe an exotic sort of dalliance to enjoy while I was abroad. When my men fished you out of the swamp, every priest I queried said that infection had set in and you would die soon. But when I sat by your bed and watched you, I never doubted for a moment that you would survive. The moment you first opened your eyes and I held your hand, that was the moment I fell in love with you.”

Vero stopped laughing. “I fell in love the moment I saw you.”

They were both silent and watched one another for a moment.

Then Jean began to laugh. “I could tell.” Vero quickly joined him.

***

It had taken a few days for the marquise to send her message and receive a reply from her sister the queen, but Vero and Jean remained occupied with one another as they waited. There was no telling how long they might have left together so Vero was determined not to let a moment go to waste. Eventually, the reply had arrived, and at last the plan Vero had devised and presented to the marquis and marquise could go into action.

Vero followed Jean, Ser Mattias, and half a dozen of their knights into the apartment. The earl of Kaer Longus stood by the bed and appeared distinctly unimpressed. The serving girl he was with stifled a scream, threw a blanket over herself, and tried to flee the room. Vero directed one of the knights to grab her for later interrogation, the Guild didn’t hesitate to use prostitutes as their agents.

“I don’t suppose you’d all like to wait outside a moment while I dress?”

“No.” Jean answered for them as a group.

“Well, there’s no need to stand there looking fierce. Sit down, my lord.” The earl made himself comfortable on the bed the girl had just vacated.

“You’re very glib, Conrad.”

“I think I know why you’re here my lord, but I assure you that you don’t know the whole story.”

“You’re a rapist, a coward, and a murderer- and you attempted to kill my mistress. If you have some reason why I shouldn’t hang you then you’d best be quick about revealing it.”

The earl held up a finger. “I’m noble born, you can execute me, but you can’t hang me.”

“Poison is a coward’s weapon, and cowards die in disgrace.”

The earl had clearly been expecting this interview, but despite his earlier bravado it did not seem to be proceeding as he had intended, and he was beginning to look unnerved.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And as I said you lack the whole story. There will be no trial. You’re within your rights to deny me any further hospitality, but I’ll walk free from this estate, I guarantee it. I have assurance from high places that my master will not allow this matter to become public. I am but one link in a mighty chain, one that reaches right to the top.”

“The weak link as it happens.” Jean made a motion and his men confiscated the earl’s sword, which lay with his discarded clothes, and then left the room. They were quickly replaced by the marquis’ wife.

The marquise warmly pressed Vero’s hand, before slipping further into the room and joining her husband. “I’ve spoken to my sister, and we’ve come to an arrangement with your master. We will hold our peace regarding the unfortunate matter of the gold you delivered to the Guild, and the assassin will make the unfortunate choice to take his own life before he can be interrogated. In return, we have royal support to begin a swift investigation into the unfortunate matter of your sister’s demise. It seems my husband already has some reliable intelligence as to who is responsible, so I expect the trial will be very swift indeed.”

The earl turned pale and didn’t say anything else, but turned to face the corner.

After seeing the earl’s color turn, Jean gave a bitterly ironic laugh. “It seems we’ve both learned how mistaken we were to give the king our confidence. Fortunately, my mistake was not fatal. My only regret is that you killed your sister with your own hands, so unfortunately it seems you will be beheaded rather than hanged. Regardless, I think the justice will still bring the poor restless soul some peace at last.”

***

Jean and Vero rode out together. Spring seemed to have finally arrived, and bright flower buds everywhere looked to be on the brink of opening at last.

Vero was traveling light. She wore pants and a tunic, and her breasts were bound tight to her chest. She had considered bundling up all her gowns and jewels to sell at the first city she reached but, in the end, she had decided to leave it all behind. Jeans promised that he would keep them for her.

She had originally thought that she would be walking, but Jean had insisted that she must keep the mare he had given her as a gift. Vero had named her Papillon and she was a very sweet creature, so after some debate, she had decided to accept. Besides the mount, she was leaving mostly as she had arrived, perhaps a little heavier, but lean days on the road would soon take care of that.

“I can’t change your mind?”

Vero shook her head.

“You’re always welcome to return.”

“This isn’t the place for me.”

“It can be. I love you, Vero.”

Vero dismounted and Jean did the same.

“You live in a nest of vipers. Your own king is terrified of you, and tried to have you and your men poisoned. Your lord chancellor’s own family took advantage of his confidence to advance their own interests with the crown. I’m not brave enough to live that way. I can’t understand that kind of enemy. I’m made to hunt a different kind of monster.”

Her legs felt weak and she nearly fell into his embrace. He kissed her and she returned the kiss, but only for a moment before she broke away.

“Good-bye, my love.”

“Good-bye, Veronique.”

Vero got back on her horse and the marquis watched her go.

“I’ll never forget you. Whenever you’re ready to come home, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Vero couldn’t help but laugh. “The first passing fair maiden that crosses your path… and you won’t remember my name.”

“We’ll see…” He might have said more, but Vero wasn’t there to hear it.