The young Lady Scyl of Lionel took another unenthusiastic sip from the tall wine gss she held as she stalked about the floor of the grand ballroom. She had long since grown bored of listening to the chittering of the tits who had flocked around her as soon as they noticed her presence. All of their talk circling endlessly around ‘they said what’ or ‘who is sleeping with who’ was grating enough to make her ears bleed. She reached up to toss a tuft off her majestic, artfully tousled red hair back over the shoulder of her dress, which was sewn of fabric dyed in rich jewel tones reminiscent of rubies and emeralds, and huffed in not a little exasperation, puffing out her heavily-freckled cheeks as she did so.

  “My Lady? Is everything alright?” Asked a Baroness who stood at her side, noticing the momentary drop in her usual regal fa?ade.

  “Hm…? Oh yes, no! Do go on.” Stammered the young Lady from Lionel as she quickly resumed her demure demeanor.

  “... If you insist. Anyhow, as I was saying-”

  Phew! Lady Scyl would have wiped away the bead of sweat dripping down her forehead if such an action wouldn’t threaten to smudge her makeup. That was a close one!

  The Lady had only just come of age a few months prior, and despite her best efforts, she was simply not as attuned to the lifestyle of your average Noblewoman as she would have liked.

  “--What about you, Lady Scyl? Are there any Noble sons who have struck your fancy?” Asked another, younger Noble daughter, suddenly cutting through the conversation to address the distracted redhead directly.

  Scyl retained her composure rather than rushing to answer, making it seem as if she was contempting her response. She tapped her folded hand-fan to her lip and stared up into the air. If she was to answer truthfully she would have answered with ‘none of them at all,’ but that would not have been proper, nor would it have pleased the expectant eyes that surrounded her, waiting.

  Suddenly, trumpets bred out over the crowd, and there were a good many of them pying for a good while too, denoting a guest of most esteemed importance had arrived. “Presenting His Royal Highness, Lord Markefalt Eren Alderic de Thorn Boratan, the Second! King of Boratan!”

  All eyes turned upwards to watch as the young Regent made his grand entrance. Lady Scyl, who was still wearing her usual mild grin as she turned to look, found her expression falling into one of shocked and confused anger as she– and everyone else present, besides–saw the woman on his arm! For there, walking beside him arm-in-arm, was the tall, fair, and well-built daughter of the Baron van der Leigh, dressed in finery which matched his own ensemble. After gaping in a moment of shocked stillness, the ballroom began to come alive again as the two began making their way down the rge and opulent spiral staircase together.

  “Is that Lady Frith?” “The daughter of Baron van der Leigh?” “Oh my word!” Came many startled and excited voices throughout the hall.

  No sooner had the couple’s feet left the final step of the stairs than did a cmoring crowd of Nobles surround them, some of them desperate for the King’s attention, others curious about their retionship, or of how this pairing came about. While the women who had been speaking to Lady Scyl left promptly to join into the newest throng, chasing the most potent source of gossip, the young Lady of Lionel was not so uncouth as to swarm and buzz about it like those other flies. As she pulled another sip from her gss, a second figure approached to stand and observe the commotion from at her side.

  “She performs quite well in that position.” Said the other woman, causing Lady Scyl’s head to snap to the side to face her.

  “Well, if it isn’t Lady Illund who has approached me, how do you do?” The red haired maiden spoke through her most polite smile, her voice dripping with a most saccharine and unfriendly lilt.

  Lady Illund only smiled inscrutably back at her. “I am doing well, Silly.” Replied the bespectacled brunette in a comfortable and untroubled voice.

  “Don't. Call me. That.” Lady Scyl gritted out, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

  “We’ve been pying together since we were babes, Silly. If anyone has the right to call you by a pet name, it should be me.” Replied Lady Illund, adjusting a piece of jewelry which adorned her hair, which was a warm bck color cut at a medium length. “At least until the object of your ambitions reciprocates your… enthusiasm.”

  Lady Scyl turned to gre back over at the Royal couple across the way, aimed particurly at Lady Frith. “Damn that woman!” She cursed. “What did she do? I thought she had been consistently rejecting his advances!”

  “She simply bided her time until she was offered something that she needed. It’s what most Noblewoman do, Lady Scyl.” The youngest of the Illunds replied as she checked her nails for imperfections.

  The King raised his gss then, and the boisterous crowd about him grew silent for a moment so that he might speak.

  “My good Ladies and Gentlemen: I am pleased to announce that Lady Frith van der Leigh has agreed to be my partner at the upcoming Foundings Day Ball!”

  Sounds of adution arose from the excited Nobles and accompanied by a small outpouring of appuse. With no more eyes scrutinizing her own behavior, and feeling most put-out, Lady Scyl stormed off out of the ballroom, leaving Lady Illund alone to watch her departure. She quietly removed her full-moon spectacles and rubbed them with her handkerchief.

  “What a handful!” She sighed to herself, before she noticed a passing servant carrying a rge tray loaded with savory pastries. “Ooh!”

  It had been a few days of arduous work, but many of the vilgers who had remained to aid Castle Petrice with the storage and the organization of the newly-arrived gifts from the Barony were now departing, satisfied with their work and the benefits they had earned by it. To each vilge had been bequeathed a share of the poultry, livestock, and draft-animals, along with a personal stipend given to each person for their work. In turn, this was a beneficial arrangement for the members of the Castle, for they obviously had neither the necessary hands or space to care for so many creatures, so it was a boon to have them taken off of their hands. They did, however, retain the horses, two chickens for eggs, and a milk cow.

  Many of the halls of the Castle were set aglow with their new decorations: Large and lustrous handcrafted tapestries, carpets, and rugs, as well as gleaming trinkets and jewelry in gss dispys. The Ancestors who hung about the pce now found themselves in new company; departed van der Leighs and Petricians now gred at each other unblinkingly and eternally. The Castle Cathedral, even Fatherless as it was, now sported an opulent new Holy Wheel. Niks worried a bit that this symbol of the Son of God, draped in gold and jewels as it was, would be considered a bsphemous mark against him during his inevitable judgment… but as it had been sent from the Church of the Almighty in the Capital, surely it was all well and good?

  A comparatively small gathering of people yet remained in the courtyard after the departure of the majority of the vilgers, townsmen, cityfolk and Lords. For the past several days, during their free time between shifts spent moving and organizing the dowry goods, the Militiamen from Stoppridge and the youths from Thuud, along with several dozen other Petricians from disparate vilges, had taken to practicing drills and formations together, alongside basic self-defense with spears. After the Moot they had all taken to each other quite a bit, and Finona’s people were interested in organizing a formal Militia of their own, for Stoppridge was far to the North.

  Many of these youths had lost fathers, brothers, or other family to monsters–some of them quite recently, too–and were therefore eager to gain the ability to protect those who they had left and exact retribution for their losses. The Count had also just penned a measure incentivising each of the vilges and towns to create such forces, offering wages and the funding for materials paid from the County’s own coffers, which the returning civilians would be bringing home with them along with the rest of their boons.

  Now that the work was all but done, this ambitious group could focus wholeheartedly on their new goals, and the presence of first-css Knights from van der Leigh was a once-in-a-lifetime learning opportunity for everyone present. Niks spent a brief moment watching from a high window as Ser Glorifeld gave an enthusiastic demonstration on the use of the longsword. He grinned down at the scene below him before going on his way.

  While these fresh young hands toiled tirelessly to learn the art of soldiery, Hemsley was busy rushing back and forth between the Castle and the border-town of Tukk, where a great many craftsmen lived and survived day-by-day on the meagre funds they earned from the few travelers who passed through their gate. Even these normally stoic and reserved Petricians were left in an excitable state after they received the Count’s recent missive, for he had pced a great order with their bcksmiths for spears, daggers and shirts of chain, and besides that, the rest of the craftsmen were tasked to make just as many boiled leathers, gambesons, and tabards bearing the crest of Petrice.

  They knew not from where the Count had received this sudden influx of coin, but they were more than grateful for the work. Soon, the ckadaisical little town was energized by a renewed toil and purpose that the pce had not seen in decades. In the coming weeks the results of this incredible economic boost began to flow down the roads and stimute the nearby towns and cities just the same. Word would begin to make its way back up the Road of Benedict, and even further on down the Royal Highway, that the County of Petrice was experiencing a strange and unexpected windfall. Soon enough, a small trickle of merchants and traders would cross Petrice’s borders–a trickle which steadily grew into a raging flood!

  That is, however, a story for another time. In the present, Hemsley was still hurrying on his way down the road, with the Count’s first few missive-orders tucked securely under his arm, and he was even riding on the back of one of their new horses to boot! Niks was yet quite unaware of the huge waves of effect he was about to set into motion with these orders. While he was aware of how they would serve as a shot of lifeblood for Tukk, as well as the territory at rge, he underestimated just how great a shift his bors would cause to pass. You could forgive him for this ck of economic foresight, however, because his sights were currently focused elsewhere.

  Coronton had remained retively quiet in the few days since the Moot had concluded. Too quiet. Niks suspected something was afoot, but he had received no further word on the matter, and so he remained in the dark. The atmosphere in the Castle was one of breath held in anticipation; it was almost as though they were waiting for something to arrive. He did not like the continued silence. Thus, as soon as he was finished with his current tasks, he had decided that he would make his return to the City–only this time with the Knights van der Leigh riding at his back!

  We shall see how that false and criminal Lord fares against the greatest order of Knights in the Kingdom! Niks thought to himself with fire in his eyes.

  Then he recalled the look on Lady Merida’s face the day before, as well as her own decration of intent to march upon Coronton with the men under her own command, with or without him. It appeared that the revetion of the Lord Mayor’s deception, and Alvin Borney’s true fate, had hit her the hardest. All this time she had thought the young man was deceased, and his next of kin thereby rightful in his position–if not his character–never imagining that anything foul could be afoot.

  Whatever we do, I should choose to leave soon, for she looked as though she was ready to take her men and go by herself at that very moment. I doubt she will wait for much longer!

  Still, he wondered… why had the master of Coronton not yet made his move?

  With the Castle Petrice now in sight off in the distance, the 1st Company from Coronton had set their camp on a mostly ft pin set between the many steep hills which made up the majority of the local terrain. They had marched along beside that strange Trench with little issue. Every so often they would spot the small buildings of a vilge in the distance and worry that they might be seen, or even confronted, but no such troubles occurred. The vilges even appeared strangely lifeless, and some of the soldiers wondered if there was something going on that had called everyone away.

  That’s lucky for us, if so. Even if we don’t conceal ourselves, we shan’t be observed! The Sergeant had thought to himself, gncing back at that strange tunnel and shivering slightly.

  Once they had finally reached the pce where they had originally pnned to exit the trench by way of , if they had indeed travelled inside it, they marched a bit further until the Castle was in sight. They made to rest and wait for the arrival of the 2nd Company. There was nothing else they could do, really, for he had been explicitly told that only Rochester had been entrusted with further orders from the Lord Mayor.

  I have a terrible inkling about what those orders might be…

  For the first day or so, the Sergeant was content to believe that the ck of discipline must be the reason for 2nd Company’s continued tardiness. However, after the second day had dawned, and with no sightings of them anywhere, the Sergeant experienced that terrible, twisting feeling in his gut again. It was indeed the same way he’d felt the first time he stared into the peculiar fog that hung in the air within that damnable Trench.

  “Sergeant Wilhelm, sir, what do we do now?” Asked one of his Corporals, looking nervous. “Without them, we have no orders!”

  After a long, ponderous moment during which Sergeant Wilhelm peered back in the direction of that Trench with narrowed and suspicious eyes, he issued his own commands. “We will return to Coronton, posthaste!”