# Death Dealer



## Childofthewest (Mar 27, 2011)

My fantasy young adult piece. 

Chapter 1: The Death Dealer Appears

	In the forests outside the northern barony, Arganis, a young woman fled for her life. She was a simple farmer’s daughter and had nothing, but it did not stop the advancing highway robber. No doubt he, like others of his sort, were moving steadily south toward the capital of Cesernan. They came into the small port and moved southwards to the capital for better plunder. Other highway robbers had threatened girls of the village before, but young Nina did not think she would ever be among them. 

	Nina’s legs ached from running and he would soon be on her. She had been warned of the dangers of coming home past dark. But she had done it anyway. As her body labored forward to avoid capture, she knew the folly of her choice.

	“Come on, puppet, jus' a lit'le kiss for old George!” A large hand grabbed the back of Nina’s neck. “Play nice with us, love, we won’t bite.”

	“Please, I beg you, I have nothing!” She struggled to get free, but old George would have none of that. He was a bear of a man. Years of living life on the underbelly had made his hands callused and rough. Nina tried to pull away, but George had her.

	“There’s always some lit'le thing a woman can offer,” he sneered and began to drag her back down the road.

	She kicked and continuing her resistance, but the robber was overpowering. “Help! Someone!” Her village was a few miles up the road. Though perhaps if she could scream loud enough the night watchmen would hear her. 

	George slapped her hard across the face, “No one’s gonna come to ya aid, 
Missy. Just you and George out tonight.”

	The leaves overhead rustled. George looked up, but saw nothing. In his moment of distraction the farmer’s daughter pulled away, ripping a bit of her dress as she started to run again. George was too fast for her. He pulled her back and threw her to the ground. The air was knocked from her lungs. She tried to cry, but only a whimper emerged. 

	“Ya really is a stupid girl, ain’t ya?”

	The trees rustled again, but George did not heed it this time. He figured it was nothing more than a small woodland creature. That would be his downfall. George did not see the figure jump from the low branches of the trees and land soundlessly behind him. The young girl did.

	“Ready to meet the makers, little girl?”

	“The question is, are you?” An icy voice spoke behind George.

	The robber turned and saw a figure outfitted as an executioner. Two pale eyes peeked out from under the executioner’s hood and gleamed in the pale moonlight. A sword was drawn and pointed directly at George. The figure was small, short and scrawny. This one would not be able to take down a beast like George.

	“What’s this? A little boy playing dress-up? Ain't that a game for the girls of ya village?” George chuckled, “Run along home, boy, this is a man’s job.”

	George reached out to grab the sword arm of the figure, but he was too slow. The executioner moved faster than George had seen anyone move in a long time. The skill exhibited with the sword was far from supreme, but there was some amount of training there. Whoever this hooded figure in dress up was, instruction on sword play had been given. The figure certainly possessed more instruction than the highway robber had with weapons. In the past George had used his brute force rather than his skill. It had never been a problem before.

 	George barely felt a thing. The farmer’s daughter screamed in disgust and horror as the scarred hand of George hit the ground. It was dark, but the moon provided enough light for her to see the blood pooling. The executioner had moved swiftly and the sword was up for another blow.

	George  pulled back in fear, clutching his wrist where there had once been a hand. The figure advanced and George pulled away. He fled as the figure prepared for a second assault. Nina looked at the hand, resting in a pool of its own blood. She had seen the slaughter of pigs and cattle, but never before had she witnessed the dismemberment of a human. She cringed.

	Turning attention to the girl the executioner sheathed the sword. “Are you alright?” A gloved hand reached out to pull Nina to her feet. She refused it and got to her feet on her own.

	“I’m fine.” The executioner nodded and began to walk away, “Wait!” But he didn’t heed her. She looked at the hand that was left by the horrified George and then began to run home again.

~*~*~

	In the port city of Glenbard, Cesernan’s key port, everyone was buzzing with the news of the man who rode through the lands held by the barony Arganis helping whoever called for aid. It was something virtually unheard of. No one cared about the lower classes. The royal guards in the city only protected those who had money to be protected. Sure a knight seeking attention or a knight with a good heart would occasionally do something. But it was not like this man in Arganis. He persisted, night after night. 

	“It’s about time someone gave a damn about us in the lower classes. The Death 
Dealer is actually keeping us safe, unlike King Frederick’s soldiers who claim to protect us,” The barkeeper of Angel’s Tavern said when the latest bit of news hit the city.

	“The Death Dealer, such a foul name. Has he even killed anyone yet?” A teenage girl asked.

	“Ridley you foolish thing, who cares what he’s called?” the barkeep said, “Just as long as he keeps protecting the less prosperous people of this kingdom.”

	“What else do you call a man who runs about in an executioner’s hood?” A drunk in the corner laughed. “I suppose the Primrose Protector is more to your female likings, Ridley?” 

	Ridley rolled her eyes, “But he could have other, grander names, the Death 
Dealer is low brow for such a great hero.”

	“A great hero?” The tavern fell silent as the usual brooding figure in the corner spoke. Very few in the tavern had seen him move from his spot, much less speak openly. At one point he had been a rusher for the portside tavern, The Emerald Rose. Before becoming a rusher he was unknown. He seemed to like it that way. Now his money came to him mysteriously and he survived only to sit in the Angel's darkest corner brooding.

	“Yes, a great hero, Jack,” Ridley snapped, “He cares about us down-trodden folk.”

	“That be the truth, Mad Dog,” Another man said, “We've not had someone protecting our interests before. He does care.”

	“Cares? He sounds rather self-serving to me. Rides around Agranis on a fine horse with a fine sword, I say this Death Dealer should be handing out some of his wealth. That would really help. He’s probably some noble looking for favor in the court’s eyes. Once he gains that he will forget about us. They always do.” Jack was right there. The other nobles who had helped only wanted to show the king they weren't just glory hounds. But none before had hidden their identities.

	“You sound awfully sure of yourself, Jack.” The barkeep said. “But you can’t honestly believe this man will abandon us as other nobles have, I mean look at…”

	“Look at the lives he’s saved, I know. Look how he hides his face so avoid being discovered, I know that as well. But mark my words, once he gets what he wants, the Death Dealer will be done with us. Heroes are fleeting men who serve no one but themselves.” Jack fell silent and returned to his ale, leaving everyone to ponder his words.

*Chapter Two: The Barony Arganis*

	Tristan Mullery of Escion came from the southern most area of Cesernan. When Tristan was a young boy his father, the duke of Escion, sent him to become a knight in the kingdom’s main city. For years Tristan trained hard and long until his eighteenth birthday came around and he was knighted by Frederick. He survived the trials, took his oaths, and was now proud to carry the banner of Escion for his king and country.

	Tristan returned to Escion to learn how to run the land. For one day he would take his father's place as the duke. As tradition dictated the king could call upon him when war threatened the land or when he was needed for matters of state. Tristan was a fine and well respected knight. He was being groomed to be one of the finest knights Cesernan had ever seen. He enjoyed most facets of his privileged life. Except for the annual tournament. Every year his father made him go into Ursana for the king’s tournament. 

	Tristan tried to avoid going, but there was no way out. He had been going for as long as he could remember, only in the last two years had he begun to compete. Now that his father was a retired knight it was up to Tristan to compete in the tournament for the duke’s house in Escion. It wasn't that Tristan disliked the tournament, it was the fact he could never win. The prize for chief knight always fell on Sir Benjamin of Salatia. Each year Tristan left the tournament sullen that he had failed to secure a victory. As the son of one of the most prominent noblemen in the country he shouldn't have lost to someone like Sir Benjamin.

	Benjamin was a lesser noble from Salatia and since his becoming a knight he had dominated the joust. He had become a knight ten years prior and Tristan believed after he won his shield he'd be able to best Benjamin. Since the joust was the most important piece of the tournament young hopeful knights came every year to compete to gain the honor of winning. Yet every year Sir Benjamin won, making everyone else look a fool. It was as though Benjamin was a born tilter, with a lance in his hand. Tristan hated losing, especially to the same man every year. The man was almost thirty, but he was as young and vibrant as if he'd only just won his shield. Twenty-year olds like Tristan and Prince Drake should have been claiming the glory. 

	And then of course there was the princess. Tristan's other problem with the tournament. Princess Elisabeth flirted endlessly with him and his parents pushed for him to flirt back. Tristan had no real interest in the princess. She was beautiful and kind, but she talked so much. Tristan wanted a woman who was silent. Who listened more to him, than he did to her. That certainly was not Cesernan's princess.

	Tristan sighed loudly as the caravan from Escion entered the castle gates of the king. All the same houses would be there. The high houses of Actis, Escion, and Ursana would be present. Smaller houses and baronies such as Egona, Ghilend and Rewin would also be there. Country bumpkin knights for the smallest fiefs would have knights in the tournament. The same faces would all be presented with the exception of a few knights who had just gained their shields. Tristan moved uneasily in his saddle, annoyed at having to be present only to lose the most important event.

	Tristan’s mother cast her son an angry glance, “Do not be so moody. And give the princess some attention this year.”

	“Mother please, I cannot spend all my time with the princess. She is nice enough, but she is not even quiet a moment.”

	“I do not care. She likes you and so does King Frederick. Do not hurt your chances of winning his complete favor..”

	Tristan rolled his eyes and dismounted his horse. He wanted Frederick's favor, but the best way to do that was to win the tournament. If he could best Benjamin he would have the chance to take up as Frederick’s favorite knight. An honor he so deserved.

	Tristan smiled when he saw Prince Drake coming from the stables. “Drake, you dog.” The prince pulled him into a bear hug. “Good to see you.” Tristan said, stepping back from the prince. He looked jovial as always. 

	“A pity it has to be for the tournament. The same, boring tournament, where Sir Benjamin from Salatia always wins. Then my sister always throws herself at him, as do all the young women. And we loser knights are left to wallow in defeat with not even a pretty young girl to comfort us,” Drake said, walking Tristan and his horse toward the stables. “This year is going to be different, though.”

	“Why do you say that?”

	“Because this year a knight has come from Arganis Barony. The hermit duke has sent his nephew along.”

	A silence fell between the two friends. “Arganis?” Arganis's former lord had been a great knight. People at tournament still talked of him in reverent tones. Any knights who had lived to see him compete gladly tipped their hats in honor. But Tristan was unaware of any man in the Arganis house who was male and of an age to win his shield.

	“Baron Daniel had two brothers, if you remember. George and Leon.” Drake explained, “George took over governing of Arganis when Daniel died. His other brother, Leon, has a son and he has trained and become a fine knight. He has just entered knighthood and he is ready to compete.”

	Tristan had a few fleeting memories of this boy from Arganis. If Drake was speaking of Calvin Hilren at least. He remembered him serving as a squire while Tristan was preparing to take his trials and become a knight. They had been two years, maybe three years apart, but Tristan never mingled with him. He had been a squire when Calvin was a page and it always seemed below him to mingle with pages. 

	“Well then,” He said, “Perhaps it was worth coming out to the tournament this year.” If nothing else this new knight would provide some new blood to the tournament.

~*~*~

	Grace Hilren had only been to Ursana once in her life, when she was nine, her father’s last tournament. That had been nearly eight years ago. Things were much as she remembered them. She even suspected she had the same room as before. There were two beds in the room. One great queen sized one and a small cot pushed into the corner. At the age of seven she had shared the room with Cassandra. Now at seventeen she still shared the room with her loyal handmaiden.

	The young woman opened the shudders to let the room air out a bit. It was warmer in Ursana, where the king kept his palace, than it was in Arganis. Grace was unused to such blistering heat this early in spring. 

	Grace had been born in the far northern most land of Cesernan. It was not as rich as some of the other areas, but it was the most beautiful. Its vast forests and large pine trees were renowned as the best for ship building. Then there was the snow. Though snow was not common place, even in the winter months when a white blanket did cover the land the pine trees were at their most beautiful. No other province could boost such beauty. 

	Right now in her home the weather was pleasant, certainly not too cold and far from hot. Ursana was different, spring had only just begun and Grace felt as though summer had hit her. Ursana was loud and too much of a change from the peaceful forests of Arganis. 

	She sighed; it had been so long since she was out of Arganis. The last time she had really ventured anywhere was just before her father’s death. Her father had been a lord and a well respected knight in the halls of King Frederick. However, when Grace was but seven years her father died after being thrown from his horse. His neck was broken from the fall and he died instantly.

	As a woman her mother was deemed unfit to take control of Arganis by Cesernan law and therefore married her husband’s brother and allowed him to govern. Her mother became like a ghost after that. She barely left her room. She just sat there and lamented for her dear, dead husband.

	After her father’s death Grace felt as though her life was a dream. Each day she wandered aimlessly around the castle in Arganis. Not speaking much. Her childhood friends and servants, Cassandra and Donald, who now served as her cousin's manservant, were her touch with reality. They feared greatly that she was becoming a ghost like her mother.

	It wasn’t until Grace was thirteen that she awoke from her dream. She and Donald were out for a ride through the woods. Donald often took Grace out for long rides to see to it she didn’t rot away in the castle amongst the memories of her father. On this particular ride they came upon a young girl being bullied by some men. Donald scared them off, but Grace sat there, unable to do anything. She realized then that her grief for her father had lasted too long and she needed to help other whose grief was still near. Grace decided to be selfish no more.

	Her uncle Leon, the arms master in Arganis, worked with Grace as he worked with some village boys. Leon believed the women of Arganis needed to defend themselves and so he trained some village girls as well. Most just learned the basics of defending themselves, but Grace was interested in weaponry. When all the other girls left she stayed with the village boys to learn sword techniques. 

	Grace continued by herself to learn the finer techniques with a sword. When she felt she was ready Cassandra helped sew an executioner’s hood for her and Grace had a leather jerkin made to fit her small form. That had been barely a year ago that she first became what people these days were calling the Death Dealer. She was not fond of the name, but there was little she could do to change that. 

	She adopted a completely different persona as the Death Dealer. The Death Dealer didn’t care for names like Grace Hilren did; rather the Death Dealer had one goal, to see to the rescue of those who needed it. Life was different under the hood.

	Grace looked out onto the rolling hills of Ursana. She looked past the king’s grounds and the city beyond toward the hills; they were a comfort in the hectic world of the court. Though it was considered a province, Ursana was the name of the capital city of Cesernan as well. The chief palace of King Frederick was larger than all of the grounds for the Arganis castle. And the city that surrounded the palace was a bustling place, even more so now with the tournament beginning. The whole experience was overwhelming for Grace. Calvin had insisted she come with him to the king’s tournament. He felt it would do her good to get away from her mother and mingle with other members of the noble class. Grace disagreed; there was little the nobles could offer her here. She sighed and looked away from the window. The room was empty, leaving Grace with an uncomfortable feeling. For a tournament ground, everything was too quiet. She should be able to hear others milling about outside her room.

	She crossed the room and opened one of her trunks, the black jerkin and hood looked back at her. She pulled out the hood and put it over her left hand, her sword hand. “You have already become a legend,” she whispered to the hood. The empty eye holes just stared back at her. “How does that make you feel?”

	A loud rap at the door caused Grace to jump. She quickly stashed the hood back into her trunk and slammed the lid shut. “Come in,” she called to the knocker.

	The rather plump frame of Cassandra opened the door, much to Grace’s relief. “Milady, they are calling for everyone to come down to the feast. The king has prepared it for the knights on the eve of the tournament, Calvin sent me to find you, and you are already late.”

	Grace let out a groan she had tried hard to suppress. Cassandra looked at her lady and shook her head. She knew Grace Hilren better than anyone and she knew what Grace wanted to do rather than feast at the king’s table.

	Cassandra softly closed the chamber door and moved closer so Grace would hear her whisper, “There will be plenty of time for that, later. Right now you are expected at the feast and there is no time for you to change into proper dinner attire. You will just have to go as you are.”

	Cassandra looked over Grace. The girl had not even bothered to put her hair up, her dirty blonde locks fell past her shoulders and looked as though Grace hadn’t even taken the time to brush them out since she had woken up. Her dress was a plain forest green with a faded gold trim. The other women of the court would look at young Grace as though she were little more than a servant, but there was no time to change her look. Cassandra blamed herself. If she hadn’t been taking in the castle she could have seen to it that Grace was getting ready for the feast.

	“Brush your hair at least.”

	Grace rolled her eyes and grabbed her brush off the dresser. A few brush strokes made a world of difference. She looked less like a vagabond now.

	“Hurry up, your cousin is waiting for you, so he may escort you to dinner.”

~*~*~

	Calvin looked as though he belonged among the court nobles. He was full of pride for his role as knight and he moved about with ease, making small talk where it was needed. Grace was at his arm, allowing him to lead her to dinner. She never thought her cousin was one for such social gatherings, but it appeared now that perhaps he did belong here. However, she looked nothing like the other ladies. Calvin may have the ability to blend in, but she lacked such a talent. Grace was far from interested in any of this anyway. She hoped Calvin would allow her to leave as soon as the feast was over.

	“Young Calvin of Arganis?” An older woman snaked through the crowd and stopped before Grace and Calvin. Grace immediately disliked her. Her eyes were condescending as she looked at Grace, her smile was fake, and her tone of voice made Grace think one word, patronizing. Servants and Uncle Leon had warned Grace that ladies from high noble houses were different from the country ladies in Arganis. She understood a little better after one glance at the woman before her.

	“Oh Calvin, it has been some months since you have been here. It's been nearly six months since last you graced us with your presence. When you earned your shield, isn't that correct?” Calvin nodded politely. He had been knighted there in the court of Ursana. Had it been so long ago? “And I hear you are competing this year. How exciting.” She clapped her hands and giggled, Grace forced out a smile when the woman looked at her. She was expecting some sort of response.

	“And who is this lovely lady?”

	“Duchess Katherine of Actis, may I introduce my cousin, the daughter of Lord Daniel of Arganis, Grace Hilren.”

	Something flashed in Katherine’s eyes as she looked upon Grace again. “Daniel’s only child? I am surprised. I thought you would look more like your mother, dear. Lady Dedre was one of the most beautiful women in Cesernan. Yet you are so plain and you have your father’s eyes, far too wide for a woman.” Katherine smiled again, “I do hope you will sit near us at the feast, Calvin, but I must be off now.” Grace noted that the invitation was extended only to Calvin.

	Grace watched her rush to a group of other women, ranging in age from girls nearer to her age of seventeen to old grandmothers. She could hardly believe someone had so casually insulted her and then acted as though nothing had happened. Katherine spoke to the other women and they looked toward her.

	“Do not mind the gossip, the women will accept you soon enough.”

	Grace looked over at the gaggle of women Katherine was with. The younger ones were giggling as they glanced her way and the older ones were shaking their heads as though Grace was somehow a disappointment. 

	“Somehow, I highly doubt that.”

	Grace found herself between Calvin and the extremely fat lord of Egona during the feast. Katherine was seated across her and kept giving her disapproving stares. It made Grace so nervous and angry she just picked at her food. 

	“No wonder you are so skinny,” Henry of Egona said, brandishing a chicken leg at Grace as someone else might shake a finger. “You are missing out on a fantastic feast; King Frederick really went to great lengths this year.”

	“I am afraid the atmosphere in this room has caused me to lose my appetite, sir,” She said quietly, flashing her eyes quickly in Katherine’s direction. The duchess’s attention was engaged elsewhere at the moment.

	Henry seemed to understand and nodded, “Do not mind Duchess Katherine. She is a hound and you are simply a fresh piece of meat. She will talk about you and there is little to do that can change it. All the court women are like that, even our fair Queen Bethany takes part in the gossiping around here. But you, you will hopefully be different,” Henry said helping himself to Grace’s roll, “Most ladies let it go and soon join Katherine after taking her verbal abuse in silence. But you are disapproving and I do hope you stay that way. It would be nice to have a conversation with a female and not have to worry that what is said is going to be repeated in some circle.” 

	“I will keep that in mind, though I think you have little to fear. I plan on returning to Arganis as soon as the tournament has ended.”

	“You should try to stay a bit longer, the tournament is such a small part of what happens here during the spring and summer months. And if rumors be true you have not been outside your home since Daniel died. Think about staying for a while. These tournaments are not what they used to be and new blood is always needed.” Grace nodded and Henry smiled. “Every year the same people come out, it seems so long since fresh faces were seen here. Besides you bring new conversation, new stories. Calvin has lived in Ursana for so long trying to win his shield he has no new stories for us.”

	“What about you, Grace?” Grace looked up and found a good number of people were staring at her, expecting some sort of answer. In her conversation with Henry, she had missed the larger conversation going on around them.

	“Pardon me?”

	“You are from Arganis, what do you think of this Death Dealer who rides around the north and deals with those robbers and such?” Katherine asked. Grace knew she was waiting for her to stumble over her response, to say something unacceptable.

	Grace had little time to think of an answer that would be completely accepted by those around her, so she quickly said what she believed they wanted to hear.

	“It is a vulgar name for someone who has not yet killed to our knowledge. But I believe he is doing a service by helping rid our fair kingdom of some of those who live only to harm others.” Grace paused, all eyes remained fixed on her. “Arganis and her port have long been subjected to thieves, murderers, and pirates. It was time our villagers felt some sort of safety. After all the guards at the Arganis castle do not have the resources to protect every cabin in the north lands.”

	“I agree,” Henry piped up, taking a break from his food. He gave Grace a quick smile before continuing. “This Death Dealer may be going over the king’s guard and army, but he is protecting the common folk and what is a kingdom without its common folk? Our valiant peasants work the land so we might eat at feasts such as this.” He raised his wine glass, “A toast is deserved to those hard-working vassals and to the Death Dealer who is willing to protect them.” Others in earshot raised their glasses in an agreeing toast with Henry. 

	Grace looked at Sir Henry and smiled. If nothing good came of this trip at least she had found a friend at court.

~*~*~

	Tristan Anders wished he had been closer to the Duchess Katherine of Actis. He would at least have the chance to get a better look at the young woman who had come from Arganis. If rumors were true she was Calvin's cousin and the only child of Lord Daniel. This was the first time Tristan had seen her. She had spent much of her time locked away in her chambers and had been late coming to join everyone else for the feast. He would have to have Katherine introduce them, even though from the looks of it, Katherine was not too fond of the young woman. 

	Tristan leaned over and whispered to Prince Drake, “The girl, from Arganis, is it that she is Lord Daniel’s only child?”

	Drake nodded, “A reserved thing isn’t she? I have hardly seen her speak to anyone but Calvin and Henry since she came down from her chambers. But there is something about her,” Drake paused and looked Grace over from across the feast hall. Her face was turned away and she seemed completely immersed in a conversation with Henry.

	“I saw her first,” Tristan gave Drake a light punch on the arm. 

	“You did not, I saw her when she first arrived and I’m your prince. Do you really want to anger your one day king over a woman?”

	“Perhaps over that woman.” Tristan and Drake both looked directly at Grace. As though she sensed eyes upon her she looked up and met their wandering eyes. A shiver ran down Tristan’s spine, a woman had never held his gaze for so long without looking away or blushing. This one just stared back with a great intensity in her gray eyes. It seemed unnatural for a woman to stare so. She was not embarrassed as it seemed she should be. 

~*~*~

	It bothered Grace to have people staring at her, but she would stare right back to make them just as uncomfortable. It had worked, the prince and the other young man both looked away from her piercing stare. She sighed and turned her attention to Henry. Had their code of chivalry failed to list staring among its pages.

	“Trying to scare off the lads, are you?” Henry was finishing up the last of his dessert, as he spoke a bit of pie dribbled down his chin and into his beard. He laughed a bit and wiped it off.

	“Trying to stop their staring.”

	“Let sleeping dogs lie, I always say. If they want to stare let them, might show Katherine a thing or two if Tristan of Escion and Prince Drake are after you. For one thing she might not think you plain anymore.”

	Grace nodded. She was far from plain, but no one here really knew that. As far as anyone was concerned she was the late Lord Daniel and Lady Dedre’s reserved daughter, who did not share her mother’s looks and had her father’s eyes. The less everyone knew the better.

	A few guests had begun to get up and follow the king and queen into the great hall for some after dinner dancing. Grace pushed herself away from the table and bowed her head to Henry.

	“It was a pleasure to speak to you this evening and hopefully I will have the opportunity again, but for now I am tired and am going to retire.”

	Henry rose from his seat and took Grace’s hand, lightly kissing it. “Do not fret about the ladies of this court, young one, it will improve for you, I promise. Show them what a fine lady you are, join me in a few dances and then you may head to bed.”

	“I do not know…”

	“It will only be worse for you if you decide not to come to the ball. The rumors will spread quickly you are a northern barbarian who cannot dance.”

	Henry held out his arm. Grace made a face and crinkled her nose, but in the end she took the offered arm. Henry led Grace into the great hall where couples had already begun to pair off. Even Calvin had found a young noblewoman to dance with. Henry faced Grace and took her hands gently.

	“You are not some norther barbarian are you? You do know the dances, I assume?”

	“Of course.” Grace had been raised like any proper noble girl was. She knew the proper manners for court. How to curtsy, the many different dances she needed to know, how to conduct herself in the presence of young men. The only thing her training had not prepared her for was how to handle gossip circles. 

	The first dance was a quick one. Henry smiled down at Grace, giving her hand a squeeze. “So rumors that those in Arganis are less than civilized are untrue. You dance as well as any woman here. Perhaps better.”

	“Your compliments are unnecessary, Henry. I learned how to conduct myself in court a long time ago, just like all the other women here.”

	“Must be the breeding you have from your mother. She was the most fashionable woman at court before her marriage and your birth.” He winked down at her.

	The next dance kicked into motion. Henry was ready to lead Grace once more, but Prince Drake cut in. “Henry, may I have the honor of leading this young lady in a dance?”

	“I could not possibly refuse my prince.” Henry placed Grace’s hand in Drake’s and strode from the floor. He joined the crowd of onlookers. Grace felt abandoned. Henry had left her in the care of the prince. There was little he could do that would have been worse to her.

	Grace was panicking inwardly, though outwardly she kept her demeanor collected. The prince was dancing with her and that meant that all those not dancing would be watching her with a critical eye. She knew for a fact Katherine was not dancing and she would be watching closest of all.

	“There is no need to be nervous, milady.” Drake said, smiling down at Grace.

	“Who said I was nervous?”

	“Your sweaty palms speak for themselves. But worry not; those in court will not speak in their circles if you falter. Not when the prince is involved at least. They'll do it behind closed doors so as not to impart my wrath upon them.” Drake smiled, leading Grace around the dance floor. He was lying. They would talk twice as much closed doors or no, but she appreciated his effort to ease her nerves.

	She liked him for that. And as long as she was in his good graces, gossip circles would be more hesitant to make her a victim. But now she concentrated on the dance, because no amount of good graces would save her from gossip, especially if she fell or stepped on Drake’s toes.

	Drake led her around the ballroom through another song. This one slowed and the prince pulled her in closer. Grace felt strange having his hand rest on her waist. If she continued to dance after this she knew full well she would falter. After the dance with Drake, Grace decided it was time to turn in for the night. The house banners, the many colored dresses, the talking, the laughing, the closeness to the prince, it was all too much for Grace to take in. She thanked Drake for the dance and turned to excuse herself from the dancing.

	Her exit was apparently not something some of the other knights wished to see. Upon seeing her break from their prince three swarmed around her. One was the young knight who had been seated next to the prince, the one who watched her so intently. Looking at him closer Grace felt her face getting red. He was the most handsome and dashing man she had ever laid her eyes on. The men of the Hilren line were notorious for being short, stocky folk. This man was tall and muscular, with wavy brown hair he had tied back. He was beardless and had brown eyes that were reminiscent of a big, playful dog Grace had once played with in Arganis. His nose was small and perfect, clearly his hadn't been broken like her cousin's had. He looked to be in his early twenties.

	The other two knights were not nearly so handsome as this one. They bore scars and the signs of broken noses. One was older than the other two, probably close to early or mid-thirties. His hair was an auburn color and his skin pale. The other was closer to the first knight's age and he was darker skinned with thick black hair he had cropped short. He was scarred more than the other two, but his black eyes were happier.

	“My lady,” The knight who had sat with Drake said, “You don't mean to leave us, do you? Not when so many knights wish to lead you in a dance. Please, favor us with your name, lady.” 

	Grace assumed, and correctly so, that these three already knew her name from the gossip circles that had formed around the room. Still it was bad form on her part not to honor their request. “I am Grace Hilren from the Barony Arganis to the north. And who are the fine knights who stand before me?”

	“I am Sir Tristan of Escion,” The first one said. “This,” he signaled to the oldest of the three, “Is Sir Benjamin of Salatia and this rough looking man, is Sir Edmund of the fief Pirate's Bay.”

	“You are very different looking from the other knights assembled Sir Edmund.”

	Edmund was the first to take Grace's hand and kiss it. “Before conquerors from the northern countries set foot on Cesernan it was covered in tanned folk like myself.” His eyes were filled with mirth. “That was centuries ago and my father is just as fair skinned as everyone else, but my mother is from the Nareroc Islands.” The spice islands off the south eastern coast of Cesernan were famous for their warm, jungle climates and dark skinned natives, the same sort of natives who had once lived all across Cesernan. Grace was familiar with the histories, but had never met a Nareroc descendant. 

	She wanted to hear more, but knew it was rude not to acknowledge the others. “And Benjamin of Salatia?” She offered her hand to him. He took it gladly and kissed it. “I have heard of you. The man who tilts as though he was born upon a horse with a lance in hand.”

	“Aye, that be true,” Benjamin talked with a country twang Grace had heard some of the peasants around Arganis use. He was not so wealthy a knight as Edmund or Tristan it appeared. 

	Finally she turned and offered her hand to Tristan. “And Tristan of Escion.” She recalled some scandal from Escion. It had happened just before the final tournament her father competed in, but she could not bring forth any memories about it. All she remembered were hushed tones between her father and her uncles. Her brow creased as she tried to remember what had happened.

	Tristan misread her expression and stated, “I realize I am not so renowned as Benjamin or so exotic as Edmund, but I do come from the Mullery line which is Queen Bethany's own line. Certainly that should impress you some.” He laughed and offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you through the king's gardens.” The other two knights scowled at him. They didn't like that he had asked before they did.

	Grace wanted nothing more than to head into her room and get some rest before her own nightly activities began. However, she didn't want to be rude and disgrace her cousin's name by refusing a relation to the queen. She took the offered arm and Tristan led her into the king's garden.

	Other couples were making use of the quiet garden to make declarations of undying love, others were doing less appropriate behaviors. Grace had often wondered what such things would be like, but in Arganis men saw her as a feisty youth and not as a courtable young woman. That suited her fine most days, but her Uncle George felt at seventeen she should already have had marriage proposals, perhaps even should have been wedded and bearing sons. That's why he had insisted, as had Uncle Leon, that she needed to go to the tournament. They hoped she'd be snatched by a worthy noble family and a marriage proposal would follow sometime in the summer months. Grace did not like this prospect. She shivered to think of herself as a wife in the next year.

	Again Tristan misread the signals her body was sending. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I would think a northern lady such as yourself would not find Ursana cold, especially since summer is on our doorstep.”

	She looked up into Tristan's face. He had a gift for misunderstanding her. Still she smiled at him. As a man he couldn't understand how she felt. 

	“I heard a nasty rumor you were going to leave after the tournament has ended. Did no one tell of the wonderful festivals King Frederick holds here in the summer? The tournament is not the only attraction.”

	Grace attempted to step away from Tristan's grasp, but he held her close. “I should be going,” She whispered. 

	Tristan turned her so she was facing him. He stood a full head taller than she. He had her by the shoulders, holding fast. A playful smile played on his lips. Suddenly he pulled her into a passionate kiss. 

	Grace had sneaked through the stables before and stolen kisses from the young men who tended the horses in Arganis. But they had been simple pecks, not totally encompassing kisses like the one she now found herself in. Moments passed, but too swiftly and yet too slowly at the same time. She broke away finally, feeling dazed at Tristan's bluntness. Her cheeks were a deep crimson and she felt them getting hot. 

	“You are a bashful maiden aren't you?” Tristan held out his arm again for her. “I will escort you to your room, my lady.”


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## CaptainWilliam (Apr 10, 2011)

I like how this was done, but the only thing that really stood out to me was the struggle in the beginning.


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## avestHom (Oct 16, 2016)

I liked it. But I think there are two many characters in the beginning of your second scene, Just my view.


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## Eric Romano (Oct 17, 2016)

I liked the Northern Barbarian touch!


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## Ptolemy (Oct 17, 2016)

Hasn't this thread been dead for 5 years?


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## avestHom (Nov 22, 2016)

This is a good story. However there seems to be too many characters in a short time, in which for the writer it's hard to cover each character, his or her worldview, his or her emotional relation to the protagonist (by emotional relation I mean feelings such as hatred, respect, fear, confusion, love, and things like that.) Then there is also the emotional relation of the characters towards each other, let alone the emotional relation of the Protagonist to each one of them.
In the end, that's only my personal idea.


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