Edric followed Mira through the crowd, noting how the nobles who had been actively avoiding him now seemed oddly interested in his destination. Their whispers followed:
“Galenmurk? Really?”
“Well, who else would take him?”
“The dud hero and the halfling Regent…”
The alcove’s curtains were drawn back, offering no privacy from curious onlookers. Unlike the other spaces where attendants fussed over elaborate place settings, this table showed signs of hasty preparation—mismatched glasses, crooked placemats, wrinkled tablecloth.
A single diminutive figure occupied Galenmurk’s partition. Her snow-white hair and pointed ears marked her elven heritage, while her round features and small stature spoke to her halfling blood. She wore practical clothes barely passable as formal wear, though the quality of the fabric and subtle embroidery marked her station. She stood atop her chair to meet Edric at eye level; She still would have barely reached Mira’s shoulder had she been on the ground.
“Welcome, Edric, Bow Hero,” she said, her voice carrying quiet authority despite her size. “I am Zylenaia, Regent and Acting Ruler of Galenmurk. I speak on behalf of my province and king when I say: we would be honored to sponsor you, sir hero.” She paused, measuring her next words carefully. “The gods have bestowed upon my country an impossible opportunity—one I could never have dreamt possible. I will not dare be so foolish as to squander a miracle.”
Zylenaia lowered her head in a show of respect—a gesture that would have been undignified for a king, but their relative ranks were ambiguous enough to allow it. “I stand here not to demand, but to beg for your devoted assistance. Please help me preserve my precious home and people.”
The sincerity in her voice struck Edric silent. Beside him, Mira’s breath caught audibly—clearly as stunned as he was by this unprecedented display of humility from a ruler.
Zylenaia raised her head, crystal-blue eyes meeting his with unflinching directness. “I thought long and hard about what I could offer you.”
“We have no coin to spare! We have no special weapons to give you! No grand masters to train you! Nor open land could I offer! Galenmurk has no resources to spare supporting a dud hero.” Each declaration rang with blunt honesty.
“There is only one thing I can offer you—something no other kingdom represented here would ever dare give you. Come live in my lands and among my people, and I will grant you freedom and autonomy to your heart’s content, with no forced obligation.” Zylenaia held his gaze with a determined intensity rarely seen. “I’m afraid that is all I can afford.”
Having finished her proposal, she stepped off her chair, adjusted it herself, and sat down to await a reply.
*Freedom.* The word resonated through Edric like the toll of a bell. After days of chains and forced compliance, the simple offer struck a deep chord. He rubbed his wrists absently, studying Zylenaia’s face for signs of manipulation or deceit but found only that same direct intensity.
Without breaking eye contact, Zylenaia stood and reached for a glass bottle. The red liquid inside caught the light as she poured three glasses of wine. Mira’s sharp intake of breath at the third glass almost made Edric smile. The Regent gestured to the chairs. “Take your time. This isn’t a decision to be made lightly.”
Edric accepted both the seat and the offered wine. After a moment’s hesitation, Mira followed suit, though she kept her hands folded in her lap, not daring to reach for her glass.
*She’s good,* Edric admitted to himself. The Regent’s approach impressed him. She was right—the best he could hope for elsewhere was to be used as a political pawn, trained under constant supervision. This was… different.
“May I speak?” Mira’s voice was carefully modulated, professional despite her obvious discomfort at being seated at a noble’s table.
“Of course,” Zylenaia replied.
“Won’t this damage your political standing? The other nobles will accuse you of harboring a criminal and enabling a dangerous man to wander free without oversight.”
“Let them talk.” Zylenaia waved dismissively. “Many already consider me an illegitimate Regent. What’s one more scandal?” She shrugged, the gesture somehow elegant despite its casualness.
*On my own terms.* The possibilities Edric could pursue as a free man began unfolding in his mind. Even without resources or backing—perhaps especially without them—this might suit him best. Anything provided by a wealthier ruler would come with strings attached.
“Why?” Edric voiced the question pressing on his mind. “If I have no obligation, what’s in it for you?”
Zylenaia’s smile was sharp and knowing. “I’m making a gamble.” She took a measured sip of wine. “I’m betting that an honest, independent hero who makes my kingdom his home will do more to benefit and protect my people than even having all three heroes chained to my demands. Not that I could normally afford even one of Ayzelsted’s heroes.” Her crystal-blue eyes met his again. “As I said, your freedom is the only thing I can afford to offer. Without that, I don’t obtain a hero. At most, I’d get a discontent prisoner, which I also can’t afford.”
“Why so certain I’m that honest or competent, given what you’ve seen?” Edric challenged.
Zylenaia set her glass down, studying him with that same penetrating gaze. “You refused to risk the life of your ally even though it earned you only scorn from the crowd, knowing you’d most likely miss. A dishonest man wouldn’t do that.” She lifted her glass again, letting the silence stretch before continuing. “They saw a dud, a failure, and a coward of a hero who shoots worse than a child.” Her lips curved slightly. “I saw a man with no skill for bows and arrows maximize their potential as unconventional weapons. You still lost, of course, but I can tell you’ll grow.”
“How did someone like you become Regent?” Edric asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
Zylenaia swirled her wine thoughtfully. “I was a commoner once, but ice magic is both rare and critical enough to elevate anyone’s status. When the king and queen died in the last major raid…” She paused, something dark flickering behind her eyes. “They left behind an infant heir, still teething. The kingdom was in chaos. Nobody wanted the regency—too much responsibility, too little reward. But someone had to step forward.” She shrugged. “So here I am, doing my best to hold everything together.”
“Is it…” Mira hesitated, choosing her words carefully, “...safe, living in Galenmurk?”
A startled laugh escaped Zylenaia. “Safe? Gods, no. We’re a frontier kingdom with demon beasts nipping at our borders and winter approaching.” She took another sip of wine. “But we survive.”
“What about living arrangements?” Mira pressed, her practical side asserting itself. “Accommodations?”
“I can provide room and board in Castle Larkenshire. It won’t be fancy,” she warned. “The castle has seen better days. If you wish to stay anywhere nicer, you’ll need to earn your keep yourselves.” Zylenaia sighed. “We’re still rebuilding from the last raid. I’m trying to get everyone out of tents before the snow comes.” She gestured self-deprecatingly. “Have I scared you off yet?”
Edric met her gaze steadily. “I accept.” *Not much of a choice really,* he thought, *when the alternative is a life in chains.*
Mira’s hand drifted to her chest, touching something beneath her clothing—her own crest, Edric realized. After a moment’s consideration, she nodded as well.
Being the object of Mira's religious devotion disturbed Edric. While not religious himself, he felt that it was wrong to worship any living mortal man—especially himself. Regardless, he set aside his discomfort. This wasn't the time or place for those qualms.
“Well then,” Zylenaia said, her businesslike tone returning. “All that’s left is convincing the Queen to release you into my custody.”
An awkward silence fell as Mira glanced about the sparse alcove, clearly expecting Zylenaia to summon an attendant to request the meeting. The Regent suddenly found her wine glass very interesting.
Mira’s eyes swept the empty alcove once more. “Regent Zylenaia… where is your staff?” Her raised brow suggested she already knew the answer. “You came entirely alone, didn’t you? You don’t have a single attendant here.”
Zylenaia’s guilty expression answered before her words could. “The personnel I do have… are not remotely presentable here.” She winced slightly. “Bringing them to a formal gathering would cause more embarrassment than arriving unattended,” she confessed.
Mira’s unimpressed stare could have frozen water.
“Mira?” Zylenaia attempted weakly, making an awkward gesture. “As a fellow servant of the Harold…”
“Yes?” Mira cut her off, her tone carrying volumes of controlled judgment.
“Might you arrange an audience with the Queen regarding Lord Edric’s transfer?”
Without her own staff, she was forced to ask a favor of a hero’s attendant—an egregious breach of etiquette.
Mira stood abruptly and straightened her clothes. Then she grabbed her untouched wine glass and downed its contents in a single motion, pausing for the last drop. She set the empty glass down with a crisp *clink*, her composure fully restored. “Of course, *My Lady*.” She stressed the honorific with a flawless curtsy. “I shall see to it immediately.” She excused herself and departed.
Zylenaia’s awkward laugh followed her out. “Well,” she said to Edric, “at least she didn’t refuse outright.”
Edric watched his attendant go, perhaps seeing something in her he hadn’t noticed before.
The Queen’s pavilion dominated one corner of the great hall, its rich purple fabric creating a room within a room. Golden threads caught the light as the heavy canvas shifted with the air currents. Warmth spilled from the entrance where sunstones burned—a stark contrast to the hall’s cathedral-like chill.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Halric stood at attention beside the Queen, his face unreadable as they approached. His eyes locked onto Edric, hand resting casually on his sword hilt. The silent warning was clear enough.
Inside, the pavilion felt stifling after the hall’s cool air. Incense burned in ornate holders, something floral and exotic that made Edric’s heightened senses twinge. The Queen sat on an elevated throne. Tapestries lined the walls, dampening sound from the hall outside and lending the space an air of diplomatic privacy.
The contrast between the two women could not have been starker. Queen Valerius sat resplendent in elegant dress, exuding both beauty and majesty. Across from her, Zylenaia’s practical frontier wear—though well-made—seemed almost rebelliously understated by comparison. The Regent’s small stature was particularly evident before the Queen.
A brief, awkward silence stretched as Mira remembered there was no one to properly announce Zylenaia. Protocol demanded that an attendant make introductions, but Zylenaia had none.
Mira stepped forward smoothly, her voice clear and professional as she made the formal introductions for both Edric and Zylenaia. If there was any impropriety in another’s attendant performing this role, her perfect execution made it hard to object. Still, the Queen’s slight frown spoke volumes about her opinion of frontier antics.
The heavy canvas sealed them in. Edric fought the urge to tug at his collar as sweat prickled at the back of his neck.
The Queen’s silence stretched uncomfortably, her attention seemingly focused on adjusting one of her rings. When she finally spoke, her tone suggested she was addressing common petitioners rather than a fellow ruler. “You wish to claim custody of the failed hero?”
“Your Majesty honors me by hearing this request.” Zylenaia’s formal cadence was flawless, though her accent remained evident. “Indeed, I come seeking custody of Sir Edric, that he might serve Galenmurk and, through us, the greater realm.”
“Serve?” The Queen’s laugh held no warmth. “He’s demonstrated nothing but contempt for our traditions—a liability better contained than employed.”
“Your Majesty is wise to be cautious,” Zylenaia conceded, bowing her head respectfully. “His… reputation for defiance precedes him. Yet perhaps that very nature might prove an asset, properly directed?”
The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“A hero confined to a cell grows weak, his skills dulling like an unused blade. When demon raids come—and they will come—what use is a warrior who hasn’t trained?” Zylenaia’s argued. “Galenmurk offers space to practice, challenges to overcome. The chaos of frontier life would keep him productively occupied.”
“You speak of your territory’s instability as if it were a virtue,” the Queen observed acidly.
“I speak only truth, Your Majesty. My shame at Galenmurk’s current state runs deep.” Zylenaia’s humility seemed genuine, though Edric caught the faint quirk of her lips. “Yet that very disorder might serve your purposes. A hero too busy surviving has little time for… mischief.”
The Queen’s fingers drummed once against the arm of her throne. “And when this ‘busy’ hero decides to simply walk away from your frontier challenges?”
“Then he would find himself no better off than now,” Zylenaia replied smoothly. “But if given purpose, freedom to train, space to prove himself…” She let the possibility hang.
The Queen’s gaze shifted to Edric, studying him as if seeing him anew. “You propose to rehabilitate our failed champion through hard work and frontier living?” Her tone suggested the idea amused her.
“I propose to give him a chance to rehabilitate himself, Your Majesty. The choice would be his.”
“And if he chooses poorly?”
“Then you lose nothing you haven’t already written off as worthless.”
The Queen’s eyebrows rose fractionally at Zylenaia’s bluntness. Behind her, Halric shifted uneasily.
The pavilion’s fabric entrance rustled as Edmund appeared, executing a perfect bow. “Your Majesty, Lady Liora requests to join these proceedings, citing the traditional right of heroes to attend matters concerning their peers.”
*Oh no. What does she want!?* Edric thought.
The Queen gestured permission without looking up. Heavy fabric shifted again as Liora entered, her formal robes immaculate and her bearing confident. She took a position beside Zylenaia, then another step forward without objection—as if to suggest she outranked the half-sized regent.
“Your Majesty,” Liora began carefully, “I must express grave concerns about releasing Sir Edric without proper oversight.”
“Oh?” The Queen’s tone invited elaboration.
“The Harolds’ gifts manifest in unexpected ways.” Liora’s eyes locked onto Edric. “Some skills, some knowledge can be… dangerous if mishandled. Traditional archery may not be his strength, but he possesses… other capabilities that require careful monitoring.”
Zylenaia’s head tilted slightly, catching the deliberate vagueness in Liora’s warning.
Edric glared at her, trying to tell her with his eyes, *Shut Up! And keep your nose out of my business!*
“I would propose a compromise,” Liora continued. “Transfer custody, yes—but with strict supervision. Regular inspections, limitations on his activities. Safeguards.”
The temperature in the pavilion seemed to drop despite the sunstones’ warm light. Edric kept his face neutral, though his fists clenched at his sides.
“You speak in riddles, Lady Liora,” the Queen observed. “What specific danger concerns you?”
“Some knowledge is better left undeveloped, Your Majesty.” Liora’s voice hardened. “Particularly in a frontier territory where desperation might override wisdom.”
Zylenaia’s expression stayed pleasant, but her next words carried an edge. “We may be desperate, Lady Liora, but we are not fools. What exactly do you imagine we might attempt?”
The tension between them crackled like static before a storm. Liora opened her mouth to respond, clearly weighing how much to reveal, when Edric stepped forward.
He’d had enough. Watching the political dance, jaw tightening with each veiled threat, he finally snapped. *Liora with her righteous meddling, the Queen treating me like a broken toy, even Zylenaia sparring for control—it’s all a cage with different locks.* The memory of chains still cut against his skin. Sarah’s face flickered in his mind. How many more days would he waste behind words and protocol while his life rotted away?
“Your Majesty,” Edric’s voice cut through the tension. “May I speak plainly?”
“By all means.” The Queen’s lips curved with mild amusement. “Enlighten us with your thoughts.”
“You have two choices.” Edric stepped forward, ignoring Halric’s hand going to his sword. “Keep me confined—waste resources guarding me, deal with escape attempts, maybe revenge. Or let me go somewhere I might actually be useful.”
Steel whispered free as Halric drew partway. The Queen’s raised hand stopped him mid-motion, her expression touched with wry curiosity.
“Are you threatening your sovereign again?” The Queen’s voice was dangerously soft.
“Not threatening, Your Majesty—just stating facts.” Edric met her gaze steadily. “You can have a permanent problem or a potential asset. Lady Zylenaia offers a practical solution to both our situations.”
Zylenaia winced—this was clearly *not* the approach she’d hoped for.
“You seem very certain of your ability to be… problematic.” The Queen’s tone dripped with irony. “Remember, Halric will eagerly dispatch you should I decide to permit it.”
Edric’s eyes lingered on Halric. He swallowed, realizing he’d pushed too far. Everyone's irate glares agreed that his outburst had just screwed himself over.
The Queen actually laughed—a musical sound at odds with the tension. “Well, Regent Zylenaia, your would-be champion certainly doesn’t lack for foolish confidence. Though I wonder if you fully grasp what you’re taking responsibility for.” Her gaze demanded Zylenaia’s reply.
Zylenaia blinked, clearly surprised that Edric’s bluntness hadn’t doomed them. She recovered quickly, bowing slightly. “You are most generous. I will take your wisdom to heart, Your Majesty.”
Queen Valerius straightened in her chair, businesslike once more. “Then let us discuss terms.”
“Terms,” Liora seized the opening. “Given his… explicit threats, strict oversight is clearly necessary. Monthly inspections at minimum. Detailed reports on his activities, associations, and any projects he undertakes.”
“If I may, My Queen,” Halric stepped forward smoothly. “Regular inspections would require someone familiar with his capabilities and previous behavior patterns.”
The Queen nodded thoughtfully. “You volunteer for this duty, Sir Halric?”
“I would consider it my honor to ensure compliance, Your Majesty.”
*Of course you would,* Edric thought darkly. *Any excuse to crack my skull.*
“Quarterly inspections,” Zylenaia countered before anyone could press further. “Galenmurk’s winter makes monthly travel impractical. And Sir Halric would need somewhere proper to stay during these visits—at Ayzelsted’s expense, of course. A frontier kingdom can hardly be expected to house a noble knight of the Queen’s Guard in suitable fashion.”
The Queen raised an eyebrow at her audacity. “You would have us fund his accommodations while he is in your own territory?”
“Unless Your Majesty prefers he sleep in common barracks?” Zylenaia asked sweetly. “Though that might diminish the dignity of his station.”
Queen Valerius exhaled a long, controlled sigh, her irritation creeping through her poise. “Very well,” she conceded with a dismissive flick of her hand. “Quarterly inspections. Ayzelsted will fund Halric’s accommodations.”
“I must also insist,” Liora interjected quickly, “on oversight of Galenmurk’s trade arrangements. Certain… materials could prove dangerous in combination.”
Edric shot her a bellicose stare. It was obvious what she was doing—trying to restrict access to the components of gunpowder without ever naming them. *Clever,* he thought grimly, *if it weren’t so damn conniving.*
“You would regulate a sovereign territory’s commerce?” Zylenaia’s tone was calm but tight.
“Only specific items of concern,” Liora said smoothly, her politician’s smile returning. “I would work with Sir Halric to identify any… troubling patterns.”
Before the Queen could speak, Mira stepped forward, her voice steady despite the strain in her posture. “If I may, Your Majesty—traditional protocol requires that a hero’s attendant remain with their charge. I would be honored to continue serving Sir Edric in Galenmurk.”
The Queen studied her for a long moment. “A reasonable request,” she said at last, her tone softening slightly. “Though I will insist your duties extend further.” Her gaze shifted pointedly to Zylenaia. “It appears the Regent of Galenmurk could benefit from a properly trained attendant.”
Zylenaia’s ears reddened slightly, but she inclined her head graciously. “Your Majesty is most generous.”
Mira gave Zylenaia the sort of look a tired nurse reserves for a misbehaving patient, then sighed and nodded—accepting the inevitable burden of now serving *two* masters.
“Travel restrictions,” Liora pressed. “He cannot be allowed to wander unchecked between territories.”
“Advance notice and explicit permission required before leaving Galenmurk,” the Queen declared. “With Lady Liora informed of any such requests.”
*A large, open cage is still a cage,* Edric thought sourly, though he kept his expression neutral. Still, it was better than iron bars.
“And weapons access?” Liora asked delicately.
“Sir Edric will require arms for frontier defense,” Zylenaia pointed out. “Unless you expect him to fight demon beasts bare-handed?”
“Traditional weapons only,” Liora said quickly. “Under supervision.”
*She’s really that terrified of me introducing firearms?* Edric jaw tightened as he struggled to contain his aggravation towards her incessant meddling.
“Denied.” The Queen’s tone cut cleanly across the debate. “I will not allow weapon restrictions in a region where mortal danger to innocent life is so high.”
“But—” Liora began, only to be cut off by Zylenaia.
“Thank you, Your Majesty!” Zylenaia exclaimed, both grateful and eager to solidify the advantage before Liora could recover.
The negotiations concluded, and each point was debated and settled. Edric could almost see the web closing around him—a cage of permissions and clauses masquerading as clemency.
Beside him, Mira stood rigid, clearly understanding more of the subtext than she let on.
A scribe was summoned. Quill scratching against parchment, he recorded the agreed-upon terms:
- Quarterly inspections by Sir Halric, accommodations funded by Ayzelsted.
- Advance notice and royal permission required for travel beyond Galenmurk’s borders.
- Trade monitoring for materials deemed “sensitive” by Lady Liora.
- Attendant Mira to serve both Hero and Regent.
- Required regular bowmanship training for the inept archer hero.
When the document was brought before him, Edric found that he could read the ornate script perfectly despite its alien writing. The words formed meaning in his mind as naturally as English.
*I suppose reading the local language is one of Harold’s cheap party tricks,* he thought with a grim smile.
“Remember, Sir Edric,” Liora’s voice slid across the air like silk over steel, “some of us understand exactly what knowledge you carry. I will be watching very carefully.”
“Indeed.” The Queen’s tone held less subtlety. “Should you abuse this arrangement—should you bring shame upon the Harold’s blessing… well, you are familiar with what Halric can do.” She smiled thinly.
Zylenaia rose and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty is most generous. With your permission, we shall prepare for departure.”
“So eager to leave our hospitality?” The Queen’s amusement had a faint edge of scorn.
“There are matters in Galenmurk left unresolved,” Zylenaia replied diplomatically. “The sooner we depart, the sooner Sir Edric can begin proving his worth. We’ll leave at first light, if it pleases Your Majesty.”
“Very well.” The Queen waved them away, her attention already turning to other matters. “Do try to keep your new hero alive, Regent. Summoning replacements is such a tedious business.”
As they exited the pavilion, Edric caught Halric’s final, silent warning glare. The knight’s hand, he noticed, never left his sword hilt.
Edric hadn’t forgotten Sarah. He never would. But despite that, he felt anticipation stir beneath the grief. He found himself looking forward to life in Galenmurk.