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Squire's Secret (Benny and Gunner)

It was absolutely silent in the hall, all eyes and ears focused on the young squire. And not all of them kindly, some hoping the cocky little lad would prove himself a fool. And no doubt he would, so young and inexperienced, going up against an experienced orator like Henriot. It was like one of the city’s famous legal dramas unfolding right before them. All had minds like vultures, eager to rip apart even the slightest inch of weakness. Esquire Lancaster spoke their suspicions, with appropriate eye rolls from Henriot, who maintained an aura of arrogant, grinning throughout at such a ludicrous tale. The boy clearly had delusions.

Henriot chuckled when Jacque finished. “Oil? Yes, naturally, we who live by the coasts would prefer to smell like steppe dwellers and nomads, who lay with bears as they do with women. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous before?” He asked the crowd, none of whom shared his laugh or even answered him. Friderick just glared, though his lips were tight, his expression one of doubt. This was too soon, without evidence, and it was looking like it might fail. “My Lady,” Henriot said to Lady Emlyn, “I have always been a friend to your family and have no designs on your land. That this…boy even suggests so is cowardly and disgraceful. I brought this wine here to toast in your name, nothing more. If she thinks it be poisoned, then I will drink it!” He declared, causing another wave of murmuring astonishment.

“Drink it, then.” Lady Emlyn ordered, warded by the ex Marshal and others.

He waited for Jacque to hand him the cup the boy was holding.

That was indeed not the plan however, for the wine was merely a distraction, one being forced to unfold before the proper circumstances could be made. “Here’s to you, my Lady, and to you, my Lord.” He said to Lady Emlyn first and then mockingly to Jacque Lancaster. And in complete silence and watchfulness of the crowd, he drained the cup and smiled bravely.

“You see, nothing at all villainous as this boy claims.” Henriot said and grinned. “Smelling of oil, psh. How ridiculous indeed. You’ve been watching too many tragic plays, my boy.” He mocked further with a grin.

And then it happened. It was so very quiet, and the movement as blurred and rapid as a fly crossing one’s line of sight, just out of arm’s reach. Friderick would not have seen if his eyes had been elsewhere, instead staring at the right place on the table in deep thought and with a frown. A sudden…splatter, a droplet, of amber hue, that struck the surface of the table. In front of all, he moved forward, and captured their attentions, thinking he was about to say something himself, or rebuke his squire. He ran his finger over the splatter, seeing his fingertip stained brown, and raised it to his nose to sniff.

“No one said anything about the steppe lands.” Friderick murmured, wiping his fingers on one another. “Strange that you mention it. Though as someone who does dwell in forests, I can tell you safely they have a different variety of bears as we do in the west. Theirs is a…peculiar odor, one that seems to be more obvious right in this very spot, as if it rained from above. But that’s impossible…” Friderick said, slowly looking up to the ceiling.

The assassin knew he had a very narrow window. When all had exited the hall to the storage shack outside, he had chosen to move closer to a location nearer his victim. But they all returned far too soon and he found himself in a very precarious situation. Only by extreme strength of body did he hide, up in the rafters, his body extended to anchor himself by both his arms pressed to the side of one beam, and his legs to the other, balanced high above the crowd, where none ever had a reason to simply…look up.

But when Friderick did, they all did. And the expression of exertion that the assassin had exchanged to one of shock and surprise, as if the immense strain on his body simply evaporated in that second. They saw him!

Friderick grabbed his sword. The assassin released his legs, still holding the beam with his hands, and swung down and drove both his booted feet into the knight’s chest, slamming him into the wall behind. The guests shrieked, some bolting for the door, but only the ex-Marshal and the servants throwing themselves before the Lady. And Henriot inching closer to them, making it seem like he was on their side. The assassin continued his momentum and released his hands above, curling into a ball and flipping head over toes completely after striking Friderick, landing on his feet in a swirl of dark silks. He was dressed in strange nomadic fashion, wearing a fur hat, having a stained tunic of what was once fine eastern silk, over trousers, and fur-lined boots. As he landed, he immediately jumped again and twirled, foot coming around in a high kick to strike the squire next unexpectedly. A master of hand to hand combat.

With both defenders out of the way momentarily, there was a clear line to the target. A knife was produced and he took aim to throw it. But Friderick was back on his feet and moved to draw his sword. The assassin would definitely make the kill, but the knight would cut him in two in the next second. Self-preservation won and the assassin switched stances, turning to the knight and once again, in a most agile fashion that seemed impossible, kicking the back of Friderick’s palm as it tried to pull out his sword, the act driving the hand back inwards and re-sheathing the sword. Friderick collapsed back against the wall, again, and swore.

The assassian, a nomadic Asoyan warrior, then flipped backwards onto the table, kicking aside food and plates, drawing a second, longer knife. He hissed and bared his teeth at them like a snake, moving his blades in agile fashion, trying to trick the defenders on where his next blow might come. Friderick finally drew his sword, angry that having been struck twice in the space of ten seconds.

“Squire, shields! Protect the Lady!” He roared, as he advanced on the Asoyan who possessed the high ground, and was again aiming to fling a knife right at Lady Emlyn’s chest.
 
Jacqueline’s heart thrummed heavily in her chest, she could feel her arms vibrating as she held the cup. If she was wrong then what? A foolish, false accusation. It had to be him, right? The obsequious rodent he seemed to be. Nervous enough she barely heard a word Henriot said in his own defense, sly and condescending as his tone was. She gave a furtive glance to Friderick, a little fearful to see disappointment. A little ripple raced through her at the lady’s orders for Henriot to drink. A small spark of hope. Not that she wanted to hand the man poisoned wine. It took a low, slow, breath to make her legs step forward once, then twice, to make it over to Henriot and press the cup into his hands. With a salute he drained the cup.

Nothing, absolutely nothing. Not that poisons were instantaneous but he drained it without a thought. A pang rushed through her, a ringing started in her ears as they heated up with embarrassment. She had been so sure. A complete and utter failure. Jacqueline looked over to the lady, preparing for a verbal lashing which would hardly be worse than that mocking grin from Henriot. Though when her eyes fell on the lady she wasn’t even looking her way. The lady’s eyes were elsewhere along with the rest of the assembly. Jacqueline’s head whipped around as Friderick swiped his fingers on the table, she just barely noted the brown stain on his finger tips.

What was he going on about? Though she had utterly missed Henriot’s mention of the Steppes. Her head tilted as Friderick spoke, sort of to himself and sort of to Henriot. Like the others her gaze followed Friderick’s up to the rafters. Raining down oil, that would be…holy God in heaven. Her mouth fell open at the sight of the man pressed to the rafters, muscles straining to keep himself aloft. His spot hidden the man reacted quickly, swinging down and sending heavy boots into Friderick’s chest. His acrobatics were almost mesmerizing as he flipped to land on his feet after the kick. An instant later a foot lashed out and struck Jacqueline sending her sprawling, hand on the hilt of her sword.

The assembly scrambled to get away from the Asoyan, a select few gathering to protect the lady. Jacqueline pushed herself back to her feet as Friderick roared his command. She ripped her sword from its sheath and dashed to grab up her shield. Jacqueline bowled Henriot over as she ran up before the lady and turned, facing her shield to the Asoyan. Barely a second later a hollow thunk rang through her arm as the knife sunk into the wood of the shields. “Marshal, grab what you can as a shield,” Jacqueline said, knocking the knife off. Her gaze darted to Henriot. “And you had best stay where you are and come now closer,” she hissed. The Marshall’s look was incredulous for a moment before he gave a huffing snort and dragged over a table as a sort of barrier. If Jacqueline was the protect the lady it would leave Friderick alone to fight the Asoyan.

The Asoyan assassin growled in annoyance with his missed mark. Damn, pale, little wretch. He quickly turned his attention back on the knight. A far worthier opponent to be sure but he hadn’t been paid to kill him, just the old bitch. He waited for Friderick to strike first, leaping with nimble ease over swings of the sword and dancing to the side. He waited for just the right moment and kicked the full force of his booted foot into Friderick’s face, hoping to land a solid and dizzying blow. Even if blocked he would be able to dance away hardly scathed. The man spoke in his rolling, guttural tongue, trying to taunt the knight into something foolish. Meanwhile he hoped his employer had enough back bone to kill the bitch on their own.
 
Friderick had heard tales of the nomads beyond the Iron Mountains, separating the lands of the Lionhearted from vast, endless steppes of grasslands that stretched to the very ends of the earth they said. It was also a land of warring tribes locked in ceaseless, bloody warfare, coupled with the most extreme weathers, and the utter scarcity of…well, everything. A squire might be an individual raised from young adulthood to be a warrior, but the average Asoyan lived a life that was tenfold as hard and dangerous. They rode and shot the bow by age four. By age six, they said, mothers milked scorpion poison in their children’s milk to strengthen them and weed out the weak. By age twelve, they were cast alone in the winters to survive or perish. By early adulthood, they had the knowledge and survivalist knowhow that took a western man an entire lifetime to develop.

Every instinct, every nerve, was geared towards killing.

But the Baron of Alnerwick’s experience was not lax either. Adopting the Guard of the Falcon, Friderick’s guard was high above his head, and like a striking bird, it came from high places to cleave down upon the Asoyan, whom he outreached. The man was faster, avoiding the strokes of the blade as it carved up furniture about them. Nor did he fear it, courageously risking disembodiment to swirl in and deliver a high kick to the underside of Friderick’s jaw, his head snapped back, blood sputtering from his mouth, and he staggered back with a growl. The Asoyan said something. Friderick spat blood at the man’s feet. That only seemed to excite the nomad assassin.

Friderick had only one advantage. The nomad was quick, light on his feet, and agile. There was only one way to get him to stop moving. He moved in for another dance, the nomad still dancing on the dinner table, long knife in hand, and managed to accurately deflect or parry the tip of Friderick’s sword whenever it got near. Their eyes were locked on one another, the fury and passion for blood so very visible. Good. That was what Friderick fed, suddenly allowing his sword to be unexpectedly knocked from his hand by the Asoyan’s blow, but his fist swung up faster, catching the nomad in an upper cut. Friderick then grabbed the man’s legs and pulled, the Asoyan falling and slamming his back down on the table.

But the Asoyan was made of sterner stuff. As Friderick tried to lurch him closer and beneath him, where he could not only plummet the assassin into submission, but capture him alive, the Asoyan with tremendous core strength swirled his torso over and brought his booted feet to kick Friderick in the side of the face. Not once, but twice, as the other followed it. The Asoyan landed now on his stomach, before he rolled again and brought his knees to his chest, kicking out and leaping onto his feet. He spotted the guarded defence of the Lady and then cart wheeled away, before once more flipping onto the top of a shelf and giving a tremendous leap to nab the terrace of the second floor. He expertly pulled himself up and kicked at something unseen behind the railing, causing it to flip up.

It was his bow, as long and tall as Jacqueline was in height, even taller, and the punch of those bows were legendary. Friderick, who got his sword back up, suddenly sidestepped towards the Lady. “Squire, lock shields!” He roared, as the Asoyan let loose the first shot. There was no bow in the western lands to match it. The arrow punched clean through Friderick’s shield, clean through his mail coated forearm, and out the other side. Friderick gave only a silent rasp. “Move! Through the back door, move! Behind the walls.” He hurried those remaining guests and they managed to get through before the Asoyan could line up another shot.

But he was still there, waiting across the hall, on a floor above, aimed right at the doorway.

Friderick’s arm was on fire. And leaking blood. He could not detach his forearm from his shield. They were all pinned together now. To separate them was painful. He at least broke the arrowhead off. “Squire, the banner behind you. Pass it to me.” He said quietly. Behind Jacqueline on her side of the doorway in the corner was a ceremonial banner of House Amie, the dynasty of the Lady Emlyn. It was tipped with a gold plated spear head, obviously not for combat…but they had nothing else.

Friderick would take it in his good hand. To heave it, this was going to hurt. Badly.

“What are you going to do? He has us trapped here.” The Marshall hissed.

“We can…surrender.” Henriot suggested.

Friderick ignored them. “Listen to me very closely Jacquel- Jacque.” He corrected himself with a gulp of pain. “We got one shot at this. And he’ll have one shot at us. At you. But you’re the smallest and quickest. You have to go and run in there. And get to cover. Fast. He’ll only need a second to track you. But I’ll only need a second as well.” Friderick said, upturning the spear, point downwards, in a ready posturing for throwing it. Jacqueline would have to risk being shot, possibly killed, but he knew the Asoyan was not perfect at the moment. He might miss. Or hit her somewhere…less fatal. He could only hope. Their armor was their advantage. In fact, he pulled his own helm off, tougher and more durable than Jacqueline’s, and tossed it to her.

“Go. I’ll be right behind you.” He urged her quietly, staring at her hard, with a frown. “Promise.” He added in a whisper.
 
While Jacqueline knew Friderick wouldn’t need her help in a fight it was difficult, almost painful, to simply stand there and watch. It should have been thrilling to see such well matched warriors. A beautiful and deadly dance between the pair of them. Jacqueline’s heart pounded against her chest, a cold and sick feeling in her gut. It was nothing like the exhilaration of a tournament, quite the opposite in fact. While she was certain of Friderick’s prowess the fear of potentially seeing him cut down then and there tasted of bile in her throat. Every swipe and swing of sword and knife sent a disconcerting tremor through her. The sudden thrust of a boot into Friderick’s face made her lurch a moment but stand her ground. Protect the lady, that was her job.

For a sweet, fleeting moment Friderick appeared to win out. Yanking the Asoyan down from his perch. The assassin was not going to be beaten so easily. With impressive agility and strength he swung himself up, kicking Friderick again in the process, and wheeled away. All eyes were on the Asoyan as he hopped and flipped up to the gallery above the room. With an easy kick he brought up a tall bow to his hands. Jacqueline heard the collective hiss of worried surprise from those around her. While the Asoyan were famed warriors in many fashions it was the skill of their bows that struck true fear.

Heads whipped to the side as the Asoyan took his shot right at Friderick. Jacqueline felt a bucket of water, left out on a cold winter night, dumped over her. The arrow sank deep into Friderick’s shield. She craned her head to see if he had been struck. A couple droplets of blood on the stone floor confirmed it, more so his pained command. The assembly shuffled around, careful to keep barriers and shields up as they retreated to the cramped quarters. Cramped but safe. The lady was backed into a corner with the Marshall and her servants closest, Henriot was kept a safe distance from her.

Jacqueline hurried to snatch up the banner as demanded, her eyes flitting to the still protruding arrow. She wanted to see the wound, remove the arrow and bind it. There was hardly time for that. There would be no escape from the room until the Asoyan was put down. The others made their protests known but Jacqueline has only eyes and ears for Friderick. A suddenly jolt raced her stomach with his momentary slip. She tried hard not to look around to see if any had noticed, but the merest glance caught the Lady Emly’s face. A puzzled but intrigued look crossed her finely lined face before she wiped it away, catching Jacqueline’s eyes. Focus. She listened to Friderick’s plan, feeling her heart give sputtering patters. It was completely mad of course. She wouldn’t help the twinge of fear that crossed her eyes. She caught his helm as he tossed it to her, glancing down to it before looking back up. Any reasonable person should be nervous at being such bait.

I’ll be right behind you. Promise. The fear didn’t disappear completely but melted a little. She gave him the tiniest quirk at the corners of her lips. Of course she trusted him implicitly even if his plan seemed daft. With a sharp nod she plopped his far-too-large helmet on her head. She could barely see out of the eye slits, having to tilt her head back to see anything at all. In any other circumstance the scene might have elicited some guffaws from the assembly. Jacqueline raised up her shield, still barely marred since she received it from the squire’s melee, and turned to the door. With a deep breath she ran forward.

“Hey you stupid horse fucker!” She shouted after clearing the door. Even with armor on she was fast. She kept her shield up as Friderick had always taught her, protecting her vital points. She could barely see where she was going let alone see the Asoyan. A sudden, hard, thump to her shield and tiny ping sound nearly knocked her off her feet. The arrow had gone straight through the shield, as it had down Friderick’s, the arrow head stopped from hitting the side of her neck by Friderick’s oversized helmet, it sat so low it was damn near a gorget for her too. Though the impact had made her stumble to the side, the weight of her armor tilting her further. She might have stayed upright but for the cup she couldn’t see. Her foot feel right atop the cup and slipped out from under, sending her legs sprawling into a split. The cup pinged off a nearby wall with a hollow twang. Jacqueline groaned from the impact with the ground but was quick to curl her body up as much as possible behind the shield in case the Asoyan had time to reload before Friderick could take his shot with the makeshift spear.
 
One didn’t need to yell to get the assassin’s attention. He had trapped his query and those few protectors in an antechamber leading further into the manse. There was no way out. When the little squire came rushing out (the Asoyan thought he looked like a girl) he spared no hesitation to swerve his aim with his bow and release his first shaft within seconds of sighting the target. The twang echoed in the room, evidence of the sheer power of the steppe bows. The moment Friderick heard it, he stepped into the threshold, spear overturned, and his other arm still pinned clean through with an arrow, his shield attached.

It all seemed to happen in slow, deliberate motions. The arrow struck Jacqueline and he had no time to determine if she was safe or dead. He reeled his arm back, teeth gritted, one foot in front of the other, and as the Asoyan notched a second arrow, definitely going to drop one of the attackers who rushed into the open hall, Friderick roared and launched the spear with all his might and strength. The projectile soared clean across the hall…and struck the wide eyed Asoyan in his chest, sending him careening back over the railing and out of sight on the second hall. No scream. No cry. Just the thud of a body hitting the ground…and something else. He was still alive.

“Jacqueline.” Friderick huffed, rushing to the squire’s side, seeing her at least huddled behind her shield. He pulled it back, fearing she might have been pierced through, but saw the arrow only punched through the shield in a harmless, non-fatal manner. Relief flooded his body and he jerked her up onto her feet, one strong hand under her shoulder. His shield arm was burning with a fire within. Sweat pricked his forehead. It hurt like hell. “Come on, we have to get up there.” He said, turning to rush up the stairs and onto the second floor, shield raised and ready, sword drawn at his side.

There was nothing to fear. He could see the Asoyan. In the time since, he had already broken the spear and drew it out of his body, but he was bleeding terribly, leaving a bloody trail from the railing to the back of the room where he was trying to crawl, towards the window. His bow had been broken by his fall, arrows scattered about. He turned and propped himself underneath the window sill and snarled at them with bloody red teeth. He had a broken arrow shaft in his hand, his other holding his wound where the spear had pierced cleanly through. How was he still alive? No more. He was on death’s door. But Friderick was going for the capture. The man was going to stand trial and reveal his employer. One little arrowhead wouldn’t stop the knight.

But the arrowhead wasn’t for Friderick.

Locking eyes on them both, the Asoyan raised up the arrowhead…and shoved it into his own wound. He croaked, gasped, and then fell over….dead. Dead, before any of them could reach them. Friderick knelt by his side, checking the dead assassin’s pulse, and ensuring he was truly dead. Hard headed bastard. Even Friderick had never seen someone take their own life that way. A quick riling through the man’s garments found nothing else but weapons. No personal effects or any other proofs. He was a dead, silent, non-entity.

The others flooded the top floor when they realized it was safe. They wanted to look at the outlandish nomad from far away. Bloodied and dead, yet his face so peaceful, he was a terrifying novelty to them. Friderick watched them from the side, pulling free the arrow impaled through his own shield and arm, using a table cloth to bandage himself up, with Jacqueline’s help.

The ex-Marshal seemed to know best, crouching by the Asoyan, and pulling the warrior’s sleeve back. “The old High Senator used to employ a company of these mercenaries to help with his hunting. No one knew how to track and stalk better than these folk. See this tattoo here?” He said, lifting the dead man’s arm. “It’s a mark of his tribe. I think this one…belonged to a people called the Godorah. This one was a blood-rider to a great Khan. No, wait…here is a mark of shame. Craved by himself as punishment, with a knife, you see. Probably before his entire tribe before they cast him out. Tough bastard. He had to be to make his way here. I wonder what he did to get exiled from his own folk.”

“You seem to know a lot about these folk, Marshall.” Henriot said from behind, glancing at Lady Emlyn. “The type of knowhow on how to employ them to do your dirty work.”

The ex-Marshall turned on Henriot. “You dare accuse me of hiring this assassin? You impudent whelp, I ought to skin you-“

“It cannot be Folcard.” Lady Emlyn suddenly said, in a soft tone that silenced even the Marshall.

“The jealousy he had with your husband, it’s clear he intends to obtain his vengeance by killing you as well. What else could it be?” Henriot snapped.

“Jealousy you say? I say it was…care. Consideration. You see, Folcard…has been my lover for three decades. He protected me before against the excesses of a foolish husband. Always he has loved me. Fate has kept us apart, but I know his concern to be true.” Lady Emlyn revealed to them, much to the shock and surprise of every other guest. Now that was some gossip.

The ex-Marshall, Folcard of Pearlpointe, went down on one knee, hand over his chest. “It is true. I would die for you, my love, a thousand times over. What this…creature suggest is abhorrent and outrageous!” The ex-Marshall boomed. There was suddenly a chorus of agreement with Folcard. Everyone now turned against Henriot, who saw all his options suddenly evaporate. He cast a look at Lady Emlyn, and opened his mouth to defend himself, but some urge caused his eyes to flicker ever so slightly to a nearby knife. And they all saw it. Desperate, he leapt for it and seized it, glaring as he held it out. “Stay back!” He roared. All he had to do was escape. Escape to his manor, his guards, and then escape the city with all his wealth. None would ever catch him.

“I think we know who our culprit is. Baron Alnerwick, if you please.” Lady Emlyn stated calmly, as the ex-Marshall once more stood before her to defend.

Friderick didn’t stir. His arm hurt. “Esquire Lancaster, if you please.” He simply passed on the order. Oh, he was sure Jacqueline would enjoy this combat with the greedy city Auditor, armed with only a dinner knife and nothing more.
 
From behind the shelter of the stout shield, the glimmering arrowhead a stark reminder of the danger, Jacqueline could only listen. She vaguely heard the wooden clatter of the Asoyan retrieving a fresh arrow and the groan of a bow starting to draw. The groan was overshadowed by a furious, and familiar, roar and the whistling of a spear. A meaty thud then nothing. The nothing lasted forever and a day. Unable to see well out of the massive helm Jacqueline didn’t even chance looking over the shield even if she was sure the makeshift spear hit its mark. The heavy thud of feet approaching and labored breath broke the spell just as a hand grasped her shield and pulled it down.

The flash of relief hit them both and Jacqueline huffed a light sigh, her eyes barely visible in the helmet. Suddenly she was hefted to her feet in a very familiar manner. She gave Friderick a sharp nod, though the helmet barely moved with the motion given the expanse of room, and turned to follow him. Though she did remove the helm and shield to leave behind. Foolish perhaps but there wasn’t much room on the balcony and she preferred to be able to see. Quick as a bunny she raced after Friderick to the second floor only to see the bloodied Asoyan trying to escape out a window.

There wasn’t even time for words. The Asoyan knew it was over. Her head jerked back in shock as he took the arrow and rammed it into his already seeping wound. With a jerk and shudder the assassin was gone. Bane and boon really. Everyone would be safer with the assassin dead but the dead took their secrets with them. Jacqueline trailed behind Friderick as he went to check on the clearly dead man and rifle through his pockets. Behind them the clomp and thuds of boots ran up as the assembly appeared to have a look at the dead man. Jacqueline glanced over with a lightly furrowed brow. Enemy he might be there should be a modicum of respect for the dead. Friderick busied himself with his injury and Jacqueline turned her attention there. “Let me,” she said quietly before taking over the task. There would be more to do back at their lodgings but they could at least stem the flow of blood.

The marshal was quick to step in and find his own clues about the assailant. Jacqueline’s curiosity was piqued but her hair stood on end when Heriot piped up. So quick to try and toss blame at the marshal’s feet. Her suspicion of him hadn’t left, that was certain. She stepped forward, more than ready to put the man down and force a confession but it was the lady who opposed Henriot’s accusations. The crowd went dead silent at the admission. Even Jacqueline went wide-eyed. The lady and the marshal. Fate kept us apart. A small statement that struck Jacqueline harder than she expected. Unbidden she glanced over at Friderick a moment before looking back as the marshal fell to his knee to profess his love. No surprise the ensemble was moved by the proclamation, and fascinated. The rumor mill would be appeased for at least a fortnight.

Though the tender moment was short lived as the marshal turned from lover to fighter in an instant, shouting his rage at Henriot. The assembly was quick to turn on Henriot and the man was cornered. All saw his eyes flick to the paltry blade. He wasn’t stopped when he dove for it, holding it out like it garnered any sort of defense. Jacqueline scoffed, folding her arms in amusement. The lady kindly asked Friderick to handle the man who in turn asked Jacqueline. Her brows quirked a moment and she looked up and over at Friderick. For a moment she was surprised but it was quick enough to wear off. Her lips broke to a grin and she turned towards Henriot. She punched the palm of her hand and cracked the knuckles, still grinning at the desperate man. “Oh, it would be my pleasure Ser,” she said as she approached Henriot.

The man back away as she approached him, still brandishing the small blade. “What? No poignant words? No speeches?” She asked as she kept walking, letting him back up as far as he wanted. Henriot bumped into tables and chairs haphazardly as he tried to keep distance between himself and the squire.

“Stay back!” The man finally managed, his tone high and fearful.

Tired of the slow game Jacqueline rushed forward. Henriot screamed in fear, the sound sharply cut off when her fist sank into his gut. The man doubled over, still clutching the small blade, groaning from the impact. Jacqueline backed up a pace, for once standing over someone, just watching as he struggled to get his voice back. “Come now, I barely touched you,” she taunted him.

Henriot gasped and coughed as his breath came back, slowly he managed to stand back up. “You...pompous little shit…” he wheezed out. “You nobles are all the same….think you’re so much better than everyone…but there’s something you can do that’s just like the rest of us.” He had regained his breath, the tone low and venomous.

“Oh? And what’s that?” She replied with a derisive snort.

“Die!” Henriot lunged. Being taller than Jacqueline he drove the knife down at her neck, nearly where the Asoyan had struck. Jacqueline’s hand shot up and caught Henriot’s wrist, the blade a solid hand width away from striking her down. Their arms shook as they grappled, Henriot trying to push the blade down while Jacqueline pressed upwards to keep the blade from her neck. Me might be a little bigger than her but she had trained with Friderick nearly every day. Jacqueline pressed up and slowly bent Henriot’s wrist backwards.

“Drop it…drop the knife,” she said as if scolding a naughty child. Henriot whimpered as his wrist was twisted uncomfortably back, bending his body to alleviate the pain. Finally the knife fell, clattering to the stone floor. “Good boy.” Jacqueline swept her foot out, kicking henriot’s legs from under him. The man fell forward. With her grip on his arm unwavering it bent back too far. The resounding crack of bones rang out in the hall followed by a pained squeal from Henriot just before his face hit the stone with a meaty smack.

It wasn’t much of a fight. With little regard for his pain or comfort, especially given a broken arm, she twisted his arms behind his back and pinned him down. “Some rope if you please,” she called to the assembly. One of the servants popped to attention and dashed to grab a curtain pull and bring it over. Henriot whimpered and cried from pain and humiliation as his arms and legs were bound up tightly. Another servant was dispatched to fetch city guards to bring Henriot to prison. Jacqueline waited with the bound and whimpering man, a foot on the small of his back. They did not have to wait long. Guards arrived with the new marshal to take Henriot away. The city would certainly awaken with some fascinating news.

“We should go back to tend to that,” Jacqueline said with a nod to Friderick’s arm as she returned to his side. “You are lucky that arrow was not laced with poison.”
 
Just as Friderick expected. The passionate squire happily stepped to the task, confronting the lone conspirator now that there were no longer any distractions or obstacles in which to hide behind. Friderick didn’t expect much trouble from the soft handed bureaucrat, too used to a life of comfort and having servants, paid or otherwise, do his bidding for him. Though, as Jacqueline cornered the poor fool, he didn’t exactly approve of her mockery and thought she ought to just get the job over with. Still an enjoyable sight. His squire, in secret a girl, overcoming a fully grown man, even forcing a knife away from her own neck. That was potential. That was strength. He sighed with contentment and didn’t even watch the final moments of the bout, gazing down at his wounded arm instead. To conceal his smile of pride.

The conspirator was bound and tied. The justice court of Pearlpoint would decide his fate and with advocates in the ex-marshal and others, it shouldn’t be a very difficult or tiresome case for the judges. City guards were sent for. The party was ended, albeit with smiles and fond farewells in expectation of next time. What a show. Soon all that was left was the Lady Emlyn, the ex-Marshal Folcard, and the knight and his squire. Their love no longer a secret, there was no reason for Folcard to vacate the premises of a Lady without now appearing dishonorable. A renewed springtide of vigor and happiness seemed to be over both individuals.

“The wine certainly was.” Friderick commented about poison. One of the servants thankfully had spilled Henriot’s wine out in a gutter outside the home. “It just needs a salve and bandaging. It’ll be okay.” He said about his own wound for now, properly bandaged and held close to his abdomen It throbbed painfully but used to such wounds, Friderick concealed it, as they were soon beckoned to Lady Emlyn’s presence, to be congratulated on a job well done and to receive their pay. The Lady was seated on a couch, next to the ex-Marshall, who doted on her, still with his grumpy air of authority.

They were given their pay. They had been engaged for two weeks of protection, but only had performed four days, and were given the reminder in a lump sum. They also received an extra tithe of the total as a bonus. A small wooden chest was brought to them, filled to the brim with their coin. And Lady Emlyn then had Esquire Lancaster come to her, to take her hand, as she promised to write to the Lord and Lady Lancaster, praising their deeds. Yet midway through her speech, she paused to gaze down at the squire’s hand in her own, puzzled at something, before she continued and they were permitted to depart.

A short walk through the night streets of Pearlpoint, still occupied by the sounds of mirth and song in some homes, and they were back at their lodgings. The horses were stabled, their chest of money placed in their room, and Friderick removed what portions of his armor that he could with his arm, before sitting and waiting for Jacqueline to be more freed and available to tend to it more diligently. It was aching even more terribly, for the Asoyan arrow was barbed, and had torn much of the muscle and flesh of his forearm when it pierced clean through. His shield had a very visible hole that could be peered out of. Same as hers. “Tomorrow, you go around to the blacksmith and get those plated up. They won’t look as nice as before, but anyone with shining, pristine armor is just a fairweather knight, as they say.” Friderick instructed her.

“You did well today, Jacqueline.” He added with a smile.

“Though I’d rate your performance as slightly above satisfactory. You toyed with your opponent too much, instead of going for the decisive win. You don’t bark with small dogs.” He did critique her, though in a light hearted tone. He gazed down at his arm again. The blood was staining the bandage and the Asoyan had did a number on him in other places. His kicks had been numerous, with Friderick’s jaw and elbow hurting. He had felt so helpless in that fight. Him, the large agile knight, compared to the nomad who used every aspect of his body as a weapon, rather than as an intermediary tool to use a weapon. Good thing they live half a world away.

“But at least you did it without sounding like a girl.” Friderick chuckled. “Now let’s change this bandaging and get me a drink for the pain.”
 
Jacqueline’s mouth scrunched to the side with a partial eye roll up at Friderick. Just some salve and bandaging huh? He hid it well but she knew the wound had to be like hell fire. The Asoyan arrow had been a wicked, barbed thing; she wondered how much unseen damage there was in his arm. She said nothing on the matter, let him keep his brave face. The festivities, and bloody entertainment, were closed and guests leaving. Oh yes the town would be aflame with talk and gossip in the morning. Finally it was just the lady, her newly announced lover, and them. They were paid handsomely despite the small amount of work, though Friderick’s wounds were worth a fair deal. The Lady Emly thanked them profusely, promising to send letter of high regard to the Duke and Duchess of Lancaster. Jacqueline smiled lightly at the praise and promises, her guts tightening with the woman’s hesitating examination of her hands. For a moment Jacqueline twitched as if to yank her hands from the scrutiny but it might pose more of a question if she did.

After such a long night Jacqueline was more than ready to go back, tend to wounds, and rest. She yawned widely as they walked through the town. Homes were alight with merriment. Strange how it seemed that, in lands where snow lay deeper, the coldest and darkest nights of the year could be filled with such warmth and happiness. Jacqueline tended to the horses while Friderick headed in. She worked quickly to bed them down for the night, promising a good brushing and hoof picking come the morning. For the time being Friderick was in a little more need of some care. With the horses settled she scurried into their lodgings to find Friderick had removed as much armor as he could on his own with his damaged arm. No words were needed, she went right over to help remove the rest of his armor and chain coat. She stowed his armor as he spoke of her finding a smith to mend their shields. “I can do that,” she said with a nod and quickly shed her own armor.

The praise brought a warm little glow to her gut and she looked over at him with a beaming grin. Afterall, who didn’t enjoy praise? Especially from someone one held in the highest of regards. The mild, jovial, chastising did little to diminish the pleased warmth and bright smile especially given the light tone of it. “Arguably I am a rather small dog,” she said with a little laugh as she gathered up the small chest of healing supplies she had put together as well as grabbed a flagon of wine and a cup. She poured the wine for him first before setting out the supplies. With so much more at her disposal she pounded and mixed herbs with oils and wax for a fine little salve. The table cloth bandage was removed and tossed aside. The wound still bled freely but he was lucky none of his mail had gone into the puncture. “I do not think this will need stitching…” she mumbled partially to herself and partially to him. “Just keep an eye on it.” As ever she was gentle as she spread the fresh salve and then tightly bound the wound.

“That Asoyan was a terrifying fighter,” she commented as she cleaned up and stowed the small medicine chest. “Fascinating and powerful of course, able to think back on it, but still terrifying.” Just as with the wolves, the hard lesson of watching someone fight and unable to help was learned again. Friderick was a strong and fierce warrior but she wondered just how much luck saw them through that evening. That fear of loss was hardly something she had counted on when she, and Jacque, hatched this mad scheme. She was relieved, of course, they had made it through but she wondered how many more times that fear would have to be experienced. Carefuly, given his bruises and wounds, Jacqueline sat back down with Friderick and slid across his lap, legs tucked to one side and arms wrapped around his waist. She huffed a tired yet content sigh.

“I wonder if the Marshal felt the same. Knowing Lady Emly was in danger and unable to help. While I recognize why it had to be done…I was not particularly fond of having to stay back and guard her while you fought that man,” she said in a mix of annoyance and worry. “Though, all things considered, it turned out fairly well. Perhaps the worry of his loss was needed for the Marshal and Lady to admit their love. A very, very strange evening to be sure,” she added with a light laugh.
 
I can do that. More like she had to do that, but the usual display of obedience to his commands brought a smile to Friderick’s lips, adding to the one in place. She had changed so much since her first day. More willing, more capable, and as she came to learn and understand how to follow and be commanded, it should hopefully help her understand when it was her turn to finally lead and dictate. Yes, she would be a great Duchess one day, beautiful, and strong, and desired by all the eligible lords on the continent. Another Duke, or even a Prince, was fit to be her groom. And a lowly Baron like him was scarcely a step above a peasant landowner. The money they received from Lady Emlyn was no doubt a small fare for Jacqueline but for Friderick, it was nearly a year’s revenue. And for once, not paid in grain or cattle, but actual gold. That was a difference in the type of nobles they were.

“Small puppy.” Friderick chuckled lightly when Jacqueline agreed with the observation. If a pup, then at least a wolf-pup, with a deep bite. Her foreshadowing with the need for herbs and ointment paid off, as there was no worry in his mind that his wound couldn’t be treated and infection staved off. How is it she could master both the masculine arts of warfare and the feminine arts of healing? Or maybe such gender roles were indeed faux and incorrect. He tried his best not to hiss or groan as she treated and examined the wound, or was there even a need to prove his strength after all this time? He was her hero, he needed to maintain the façade at least.

He grunted in acknowledgement about the Asoyan. Indeed, a tough battle, and he had nearly been slain “He outfought me. And no doubt could have prevailed. I would have lost. And then you would have had to find a new knight to train under.” Friderick said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. He was in a surprisingly good mood, mostly because he had nearly been at death’s door. For all his armor, the Asoyan bow would have shot clean through him. “The arrow went through my shield, my chain mail, through flesh and bone, and out the other side of my sleeve armor. God. It’s a shame the bow broke when he fell. That would have been a trophy. I doubt any one of us have the strength to draw it. These Asoyans are literally born with a bow when they come out of the womb.” Friderick pointed out, though that was just a rumor and gossip of a far away people who seemed exotic and mystifying to the westerners.

His wound rewrapped and bandaged, Jacqueline dropped the squire demeanor and turned into a lover, slipping over towards him, onto his lap, resting her face against his broad chest. He stirred with excitement. And ignored the warning bells about their future status as a couple. They couldn’t. But she knew that right? He even told her. He could not fulfil her desires like that. Yet they continued on with their naughty play. Surely she understood, right?

His own arms settled around her waist, his wounded arm laying across her thighs. “You did your duty and you can only take comfort in that fact. That is the oath of a knight. You had to guard the innocent first. And you did it well. The marshal understood these things, I’m sure. He is old, and probably knew the limits of his capability, and did what he could within them.” Friderick guessed, though he shrugged as well. “Yes, I never expected that confession. He had a feud with her late husband. Maybe it because of the true love between Emlyn and Folcard. I hope they find happiness now, even in the winter of their lives.” He said, trailing off, again thinking of his own strange dance with love and romance. Never for the best. It failed with Aurianne. And with Jacqueline…the light was difficult to see at the end of the tunnel. He might not be looking in the right direction. Or maybe there was no light at all.

Still, his other arm around Jacqueline’s torso squeezed her little frame towards him. “I said your true name by accident. I’m a fool. I nearly ruined us. Maybe I should be punished.” Friderick said, his eyes closed, his chin tucked above Jacqueline’s head. He did feel somewhat elated, that if Folcard and Emlyn could find love after so long, it could work for him and Jacqueline. But after so long? And only at the end of their lifespans, when such things really didn’t matter? He was sure Folcard would regret not being from the beginning, or them getting to enjoy their youth together, or…having children together.

He kissed the top of Jacqueline’s head. “How about a drink and some dinner, now? I barely got to eat over there. And you didn’t either. And then, we can sleep.” And that thing we usually do before sleep.
 
Jacqueline couldn’t help but smile as Friderick wrapped her up, resting his injured arm across her thighs. He was injured so the night would have to remain uneventful. The last thing she wanted was for his wound to get aggravated. While she certainly enjoyed a more vigorous evening this was just as good. Part of her was starting to think there could be more to life than being a knight. With the right person at her side she’d consider setting aside travels and tournaments. Of course she knew exactly who that should be, never mind any argument to the contrary. They’d already accomplished so many impossibilities, why not one more? Nothing was impossible with the right attitudes and motivations, having a large purse helped in many ways too.

It had been the right thing to do, guard the Lady as they were paid to do so. Though the demands of service didn’t make watching the fight any less gut clenching. It was easy for the marshal. He was guarding the woman he loved. Even still she could sympathize with the man, knowing his advanced years would make defending her all the harder. Jacqueline’s eyes lifted as Friderick trailed off. She wondered if they were of the same mind in that regard. Putting duty before the heart. It was often expected of those of their social standing. Though that hardly made life enjoyable or pleasant. No wonder so many nobles had illicit affairs and quarreled among one another all the time. Jacqueline felt wholly incapable of waiting so long, until one was but a few steps to the grave. It was downright foolish in her eyes. Imagine how much happier they could have been if they’d only been bolder decades ago.

For a little a heavy silence lay between the two. Friderick had wandered into the recesses of his mind. She could hazard a guess as to where his thoughts had meandered but she kept silent. The sudden squeeze caught her by surprise but she grinned nonetheless and laughed quietly when he spoke. “And here you were the one always badgering about caution,” she teased him as he rested his chin atop her head. Lord above she loved how neatly she fit against him. “I shall think of proper punishment in due course,” she added with another light laugh, returning the light squeeze. She huffed a heavy, contented sigh and let her eyes close to just

Just a little longer in the cozy comfort before Friderick spoke up again. Jacqueline didn’t even deign to open her eyes. She curled up closer and tighter. “But I am so comfortable,” she said in a playful whine. Though his talk of dinner seemed to remind her stomach that they’d barely eaten that day and it gave and equally pitiful, grumbling whine. Her eyes popped open and she gave a sheepish, snorting, little laugh. “Oh very well,” she said with a light huff. Just as carefully she slid off his lap, giving a little stretch like a cat disturbed from a nap, and headed off to the kitchens to find some food and drink for them.

Jacqueline wasn’t gone long, returning with a tray of meats, bread, and a scant few winter vegetables as well as a flagon of wine. Simple enough fare given how late it was. She put the tray down on the short table before the couch and sat to have the small meal with Friderick. There was certainly part of her that would miss their time in Pearlpointe. She enjoyed the simple routine of their days there. Still she looked forward to more tournaments. He had promised to start training her to joust while they were wintering in Pearlpointe as well and she looked forward to that.

Hunger and thirst satiated Jacqueline was plenty ready for sleep. It had been a very long day. Jacqueline cleared away the tray, taking it back to the kitchens with but a few scraps left, and returned for bed. She’d since given up even bothering to go to the room designated for her. Even on uneventful nights she preferred to sleep curled up with Friderick and she would do so for as long as he allowed her to. Jacqueline was quick to prep for bed, washing her face and stripping down for the evening. “Allow me,” she said still in her undershirt before Friderick could strip down as well. Pride aside his arm was hurt and she obliged to help undo the lacings of his tunic to peel it off. “I’m still amazed that, even in the dead of winter, how hot it is in armor,” she said with a little snigger.
 
Friderick could only smile with embarrassment at Jacqueline’s light teasing. He deserved more in truth. Such errors and mistakes could be costly, perhaps even fatal, at least to him. If the truth of their relationship ever got out, it would certainly put a spike through both of their reputations, not to mention whatever retribution her parents and kin might desire for knowingly allowing one of their women to be involved in such scandal. He had to be carefully. They had to be careful.

He smiled broadly however, forgetting such fears, when Jacqueline whined about being comfortable. She was a greedy one, unable to forgo such affections for even a quarter hour, knowing she might receive such for an entire night? And with their recent successes, worthy of a much longer break, her labors might indeed be rewarded. It was an appealing though to do nothing else but lie about in bed. With her. Naked. “Thank you, my Lady.” Friderick teased her even as she acquiesced and nudged with his hips to give her a little seductive coaxing to move onto this task. And of course, he’d love to help, but with his wounded hand he’d mostly like drop and break a plate than be helpful.

“Thank you.” He bid Jacqueline graciously, sitting with her on the couch, their modest fare in front of them. Famished as they were, it took them short order to demolish the selection of meats, bread, and vegetables, until the tray was completely scavenged of food. And yet, Friderick did not yet feel exhausted or drowsy by meal. It had been a long, laborious day. He felt like he could begin the entire day anew, even fight another Asoyan, despite how deadly that game could be. He felt he was more prepared. Well, there was always another form of fighting they could partake in.

Jacqueline, like a proper Lady, washed down for bed. Friderick remained in his tunic and loosely tied breeches, and he was struggling to remove the tunic over his head with his one good arm, when the Lady deigned to show mercy on him with the help of her good two hands. “Heh, thanks. Kind of awkward with one hand.” Friderick said, not used to such babying, but perhaps this was the punishment Jacqueline had in mind. He was usually the bossy one, suffering no argument, so he gave none here as she helped him remove the garment, until he emerged shirtless, body strong and tall, his abdomen chiseled, and veins visible along his shoulders and biceps. Well rounded, as hard as iron, and criss-crossed with white scars of numerous battles and combats.

“The heat is what keeps you alive. Never stop moving. Even…now.” Friderick said, both lecturing…and playful. His bandaged arm was held close to his stomach. “Though it is hot in here.” He commented with a grin, turning Jacqueline to face him. He crouched quickly, threw his arm around her skinny legs and knees, and lifted her up, leaning her against his chest and shoulder for support, as he hugged his arm around her thighs. He then carried-walked her towards their bed, ducking so that her head didn’t bang against the top, and came into the midst of the room, where he deposited her down on the bed.

He crawled over her, leaning onto his good side so that no weight was put on his arm. “Be a shame if we only let the old Lady and the Marshall have some fun tonight.” He murmured close to her face, before he kissed her. Softly and gently at first, just a mere peck, but the second was more passionate, with his tongue pervading her mouth, swirling about her own, dancing in a fierce fight. Slowly he pulled away, smiling down at her, before he shifted to the side and shuffled further up the bed, to turn and lay back against the backboard of the mattress.

He patted his lap, where a large tent had been pitched on his groin. “Come and get comfortable, my Lady. Then you may punish me to your heart’s content.” He smiled at her. She would deserve this, and despite his arm, he was willing and ready to give it to her all night. Because who knew when, and if, their partnership might come to an end. And because this is all there will ever be, for her fate and pedigree was far above his, and he had no claim to her hand. And anything else would not be as honorable, or morally acceptable. Even this was not. They ought to stop. Sometime. But he thought she knew the stakes of what they were doing…right?
 
Jacqueline smirked with Friderick’s near embarrassment at needing help undressing. She had helped him in and out of armor more times than she could count on fingers and toes but Lord forbid the assistance with a tunic. She folded the tunic neatly to store away, unabashed in appreciating the sight before her. Heaven above she couldn’t possibly tire of that. A corner of her lower lip caught between her teeth as she finally tore her eyes away to put the tunic away. It is hot in here. Truth be told she was almost constantly cold, even inside though the chill didn’t bite so hard indoors and beside a roaring fire. Or Friderick.

“Well I wouldn’t-” she stared but abruptly halted when turned around with a large, warm hand. Before she could even draw breath Friderick crouched. A tiny, surprised, ‘eep’ jumped from her as her feet left the ground and she was hoisted up on high. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, hanging on for balance and trying to alleviate any weight. With the surprise dissipating she couldn’t hold back a small laugh as he easily carried her off. Arms still around his shoulders she nuzzled her cheek on top of his head in no way concerned with the height or that her head might crack on the doorframe.

Even still she marveled at his strength, easily bearing her weight with one arm and gently putting her on the bed. She huffed a happy sigh as he joined her, crawling over with care for his injured arm, grinning up at him with bright and excited eyes. Part of her thought to halt him, worried for his arm, but the stronger desires agreed with him and they won the evening. She returned the sweet, soft peck, her hands lifting to cup his jaw. “Indeed,” she agreed when he pulled away for a brief moment before swooping back down like a falcon on the hunt. A pleased growling moan rumbled in her throat as she returned the kiss, her tongue joining his in the fierce sparring. Little hands stretched and slid down his neck and around his broad, iron shoulders to wrap around him, one leg lifting to wrap around his.

A small chuff escaped her as he pulled back and began scooting away. Jacqueline rolled over onto her belly, laying stretched out and looking up at Friderick as he situated himself against the headboard. Her eyes flicked to the bulge in his breeches, just for a moment, as he patted his lap with an invitation. “Hardly seems a punishment,” she said with a coy little snicker. “Perhaps I just lay here then?” She teased, propping her chin up on her hands, lifting her bare legs to idly kick in the air. “That seems more a punishment,” she said, her eyes flicking back to the tent in his breeches. It should come as no surprise that, despite the teasing words, the cat that got the cream grin belied any intention of such punishment. “But,” she said long and slow as she began to move. Just as slow and drawn out as the single word she crept up to him, gently and carefully crawling over his outstretched legs. “I feel as though that would be punishment to me as well and I hardly deserve it….this time,” she added with a little laugh before situating herself on his lap, the hard bulge pressing against her bare bottom.

Jacqueline leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a short, hard kiss. She pulled back just a hair, her lips still brushing his as she said, “besides, despite the poor timing, I do like the sound of my name on your lips.” With a snickering sort of giggle she kissed him again, giving no quarter with her tongue. All the while she reached down between them to untie his breeches and free his length from their confines. She broke from the kiss but rested her forehead to his as she took him in hand, lifting and shifting her hips above him before easing him into her body. Her teeth clenched, a delighted hiss sucking between them as her body stretched to accommodate him. Slowly, inch by glorious inch, she impaled herself on him until their hips collided. Jacqueline huffed a shaky breath, grinning brightly at him as she leaned back to sit up. One hand braced on his thigh, the other slid down his injured arm, fingers gently and loosely twining with his

Her hips started with a gentle rolling motion, slow and easy. She took her time enjoying the sensation of him filling her. Slowly, every so often, she lifted her hips a scant few inches then rolled them back down. She kept the pace almost agonizingly slow at first, the hand holding his injured arm so careful not to move. Little fingers dug into his thigh, the grip growing harder and tighter as she increased the pacing little by little, her hips rising higher and coming down with more and more force. As the speed and grew she released her hold on his hand to ensure she didn’t jar it too much. Eventually his thigh was released as the pace built and built, using her strong legs to ride him harder and faster.
 
“Not really. I’d just come back down there.” Friderick grinned with equally playfulness, watching as the young squire and lady before him put on a very girlish and feminine display, her legs kicking in idle curiosity, peering up towards him with bright, blue eyes. As dazzling as gemstones. It seemed they were at an impasse then, which would lead to both of them being punished by their own deed, if neither permitted any indulgence. Yet Jacqueline guessed at this as well, beginning to drift nearer, crawling like a feline on the hunt. For prey. And Friderick was that prey. He grinned at the ludicrous thought of him being subject to so little a predator like her. Maybe that in itself was worthy of justified punishment on her. He would think of something suitable for that.

Onto his lap she straddled, his good hand coming to rest on her hip and side, his other being found by her hand and their fingers intertwining. Even the small grip of interlocking digits aggravated his forearm wound, but he hid it, his attention focused on the gorgeous face before him. “Well enjoy the rarity. I don’t think I’ll be making that mistake again. My Lady.” Friderick smirked, before their lips met in a fierce, passionate kiss. Eyes shut, he leaned back and let her overwhelm his mouth at first with her own efforts, until he could be driven back no further. Anchored in place, he then pressed his own tongue on the attack, fighting into her mouth, while feeling her little hand undo his trousers. Their faces close, he watched the unfolding expression and heeded the soft sounds as she began her punishing work. He would be hard and erect for her almost instantly, watching as she raised herself up and brought her most desirous warmth down upon his shaft, eliciting a soft groan of pleasure from him.

She was slow at first, as there was no need of haste, being immersed and locked behind comfortable confines of privacy and isolation. They had all of the night and many other nights to follow. For a time. It was a swelling urge to not throw himself into the dance, despite his wounded arm, though Jacqueline’s actions as she rode him were very enticing and toe curling. He pushed up with his hips to meet the downward strokes of her body however. He sighed again with lust, eyelids studded, watching her slender, wrought form lift up and down on his shaft, sinking herself deep on his member. Slowly her pace and urgency grew, her hands finding his warm, hard body for grip as she really began to move her body. His wound arm just rested on her thigh at that point. His other pawed at her chest, squeezing one of the mounds as she bounced up and down, the pink bud emphasised between his fingers as they dug into her flesh there.

The urgency swelled in him as well. The knot in his lower abdomen could not be restrained no more. The expression on his face changed, as if something very deadly was burning him. Friderick rasped, he panted, he snarled his teeth as he fought both to delay, while exerting his body to race towards the mutual conclusion. The sounds resonated in the room. Wet. Hard. Echoing. Their audible cues joined together in a lullaby of lust. “Jacqueline,” he murmured in broken form, the only warning he could give her to the coming release. His hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her face in close, mashing their lips, half to kiss, half to breathe firmly against one another, as his body buckled, jerked, and unleashed his seed into her depths. He groaned hard into her mouth, before falling away and back, hands weak and limp against her body. He lay there, tall, broad, a fine specimen of muscle and sinew, beneath her form.

“You’ve broken me clean, my Lady.” Friderick panted, eyes shut, one hand on his forehead to try and still the powerful dizzying waves of climax. He was still hard and erect inside of her. His passions and blood were too hot to do anything but. “You forgot to let me enjoy any dessert either. Next time.” Friderick chuckled lightly, licking his lips as he peered up at her above. Perhaps that was a suitable punishment. For them both. He pushed up on his hands, arms outstretched, putting his face and upper chest closer to her own. “You were so very brave today. I’m so proud of you, my Lady. I know your parents will be too.” I know your future husband will be considered lucky to have you as well, just as I am now.

He thought about how he might feel, coming to wed a woman, who once had a passionate lover as she did with him. Something snapped in his mind. He…would not like that. So was it fair then…to partake in such mingling of body and lust? Maybe they should stop. Or not race ahead onto the next, and the next, until they collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

But when he looked back to her, red haired, bright eyes, a strong, slender body, so very unlike the other women he had known. She was strong. She was brave. How could he resist this? He was still inside of her. He didn’t want to lose that sensation. His hand came to cup her face, thumb grazing under her lips. “If you get off, there’s going to be a very wet mess. No thanks to you, my Lady.” Friderick teased her softly. His thumb continued to stroke against her lower lip. “I know of a solution or two. You could keep going…or you’ll have to be quick on the clean up if you do anything else.”
 
Jacqueline’s legs burned as he rode him though she showed no signs of weakening or slowing. What started as a slow roil turned to a furious storm, racing towards that sweet, sweet conclusion. Little nails dug and bit into Friderick’s thigh as she kept up the near frantic pacing. The soft, wet sounds echoed about them; the heady, musky scent filling the room. An urgent pressure filled her lower belly, aching and panging for release. Pricks of sweat dotted her brow as she raced on, her breath coming in stuttering pants. Her name danced brokenly on his lips. She grinned at the sound only to be suddenly yanked forward into a hard kiss. It broke any resistance to stave off climax. A rumbling squeak reverberated in her throat and she nearly bit his lip as the muscle seizing rivulets wracked her body.

Both panting against one another they collapsed. Muscles so sweetly aching, chests heaving. Jacqueline braced herself partially upright, hands on either side of his broad chest. Her eyes met his as he spoke and she laughed quietly, the sound wispy and breathy. “You don’t break so easily,” she teased through the laugh. Both of them being prime, fit, specimens it wouldn’t take long to catch their breath. Friderick was the first to be able to move, simply pushing himself up and closer to her. The comment brought a pleased, if sheepish and blushing, grin to her face. “Easy to be brave when I know you’re there,” she replied, still glancing away with her face near the same shade as her hair.

Her grew quiet all of a sudden. Jacqueline finally managed to drag her eyes back over to him at the same moment he looked back to her. Just what was going through that man’s head? She opened her mouth to ask but hesitated when his hand came up. Warm and strong, it nearly engulfed the whole of her face. Any query or curiosity fled at the feeling, her head tilted some to rest in his palm as his thumb stroked her lower lip. The teasing was met with a short snort of laughter. “It is always my fault, isn’t it?” She huffed a falsely exasperated sigh before laughing again. “Given you are the one who is supposed to be punished this evening…I believe the clean up should be your worry and I shall do as I please.” A scant bit of that privileged little girl tone crept into her voice even as she grinned mischievously at him.

Jacqueline slid her cheek from his palm, leaning forward to catch his lips once again. She did not linger long, kissing down his cheek and jaw. For a little she lingered at his neck, nibbling and kissing at the sensitive flesh before moving on. She bent as far as she could, kissing and nipping at his collar bone and chest, until she had to scoot back. A shiver coursed her as his length slipped out of her to be graced by the cool air. Down and down her trail of kisses led, over his belly button and down the hard muscles over his groin. She took a moment to nip his hips as she let her legs slide further down and settle between his. One hand slipped between his legs, lightly cupping his sac as her lips reached to base of his cock.

In one long, slow, lick she traced her tongue up the shaft to the very tip with a flourishing flick. Her eyes met and held his, a wicked grin dancing in those blue depths, as she took him into her mouth. She slid her lips as far as she could before rising back up. Her free hand covered where her lips couldn’t go, he was quite the well endowed man after all. Their mingled tastes, tangy and musky, were strange yet appealing. Unlike before she wasted little time before picking up the pace. Every so often she paused to let her tongue twirl around the tip of him before sliding back down to a steady rhythm.
 
“So you might say, my Lady.” Friderick replied with a light chuckle to her privileged tone of superiority, after sharing a short, sweet kiss. “But you won’t enjoy it much if we are to become responsible for our own…messes.” He warned her with a bit of playfulness, wetting his own lips as he watched Jacqueline’s slender, toned body descend. They took care of each other, that was what was important…in a relationship. She should learn that, and be able to impart that, on whoever she got to chose for her future groom. Yes, if he was to teach a squire how to fight and the necessities of knightly life, he could teach this as well.

His legs sat astride and spread, an accommodating and warm position for her to squeeze into and be squeezed by, in a sort of embrace, as she positioned herself before her target. His hand swept gently over her scalp and cheek, wrapping behind her neck, while his other rested on her wrist as it fondled at his balls. Comfortably, at ease, and finally suppressing his doubts, he was able to watch his little redheaded minx get to work handling his lance, causing him to sigh, to twitch, to groan slightly, and murmur her titling with mock-surprise to tease her.

“Oh, my Lady, however did you become so…bold.” He taunted her with a light chuckle, winking at her if she was to cast any sort of glance of protest his way. “You will be, I promise.” He whispered about her boldness. “And you will have to be brave. Alone. You will learn…to joust…to hold a lance…to charge…and not to break…yourself.” He explained to her, as she bobbed and sucked on his shaft. She deserved it. She had the potential. She had the skill, and determination, and drive. He shuddered at the touch of her little hands on his body, of her lips stretched around his cock, at the sight of her feminine features that he could never unsee, despite the world around them seeing in her an ungrown young man. He knew the truth. So why couldn’t he tell her the other truth?

There it was again. Doubt. Anxiety. Fear for the future. If she kept track of these things, Jacqueline might realize it took a few moments longer to obtain his climax than usual with one of these selfless favors. He did reach it though, gripping her hair tightly in his frenzy, hips bucking, pumping his seed into the back of her mouth and upon her tongue. “Jacqueline.” He huffed, panting hard, knowing a potentially greater mess might have been caused by the way his body throbbed during such release. Still so powerful, still so tantalizing, as their first. Shaky hands reached for her, gripping under her shoulders, helping her to crawl to drape herself over his torso, face nearer to his, so that he could kiss it and her.

He wrapped his arms lazily about her lower back, clasping them together just above her rear. He tucked her head under his jaw, letting her lay against his chest and listen to his heartbeat, while he peered over her mop of red hair, towards the dancing licks of their hearth. “Before next winter you should be a fully fledged knight, if you manage jousting as well as I think you will. Your…lance handling is superb. You…ride well.” He gave a light laugh again. He was laughing a lot lately. Nervousness of the future. “We’ll put you in tournaments for the practical experience. You might lose or be unhorsed once or twice, but failure teaches you what to do. You will know all by this time next year. You will be a knight. A…uh, Dame.” Friderick explained to her softly, raising a hand to stroke down her back gently.

“And after, you will fulfill your destiny as a great and beautiful Duchess.” And where will he be in this picture he just painted of her future?
 
Jacqueline gave no quarter, spurred on by the sharp twitches and soft moans. With lips so stretched already an awkward smile grew on her face as he tried to talk through it at first. A conversation best left when they were both satiated though it still sent a delighted tremor through her. Not near as much as the sounds of his mounting pleasure. Somehow it brought added fervor to her attentions on him, the tip of his cock brushing the back of her throat. Though with size she still had to stroke the remaining length of him. Lucky for Friderick she kept not mental chart on how long such endeavors took. It hardly mattered to her. What mattered were the twitches and sighs, coming louder and faster the more she worked him.

The grip on her hair signaled the apex of his pleasure, due warning for its climax. She felt him pulse in her mouth, the warm rush of seed on her tongue. Jacqueline slowed her attentions, lightly stroking him until his body relaxed and the pulses through his cock ceased. She swallowed hard even as he reached down to nearly drag her up to him, to drape across his broad chest and kiss him in return. Jacqueline huffed a happy and contented sigh as they nestled down, her head tucked under his chin. She listened to his thrumming heartbeat slow from their exertions to a steady thumping. One hand slid up and tucked behind his neck, the other rested on his shoulder idly stroking.

Jacqueline laughed along with him and his silly double entendres. She liked the sound of his laugh and it seemed she got to hear it more and more. When she’d first met him he seemed so rigid, so stoic, but she rather liked this Friderick. “There’s not much more in this world that would make me happier,” she said in a bright but hushed tone. “Though hardly a Dame as none will know a woman is beneath the armor.”

Fulfill your destiny as a great and beautiful duchess. Somehow…despite all she hardly liked the sound of it. After such a life of traveling and tournaments it sounded dull. Then again there was much good that could be done with such titles and privileges. After a quiet moment she lifted her head to gaze down at him. She studied the fine planes of his face and those icy blue eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Lest we not forget the man who enabled the impossible though,” she said before kissing his cheek. “As rosy a picture you paint this would have hardly been possible without you. That’s not to say I cannot handle such a life without you mind,” she said with a playful tap on his nose. “Just that I would…rather not.”
 
Together they lay, her slender petite form atop of his, as naked as they could possibly be. Even with the chillness of winter, Friderick felt the bite of no cold, content with his human blanket in the form of Jacqueline. All throughout the day and even many nights, he saw the squire in the appearance of a young man. Now, he felt very keenly and acutely the feminine aspects of who she really was. Her chest pressed to his own, the soft whimpers still ringing in his ear, the gap between her thighs which his organ still lingered between, half erect, still hungry for its opposite dancer.

Though hardly a Dame as none will know a woman is beneath the armor. Not at first, maybe. But she underestimated her power as a Duchess in blossom. She raised her face to look at him, and while all the same he saw those eyes all day and night in the manner of a boy’s face, now they were very minutely a woman’s eyes, scrutinizing him in that way that only women could. One of his arms lay lazily across her lower back, the other caressing upon her upper, drawing random patterns upon her flesh as she kissed his cheek. Again, he rippled with desire and passion when Jacqueline spoke of how none of this possible without him. And again, he trembled with concealed fear, for he knew what she truly desired, and while he wished to give it to her, the society in which they lived in, so orderly and hierarchal, would not truly allow or accept it.

He bit his lower lip a moment, before he answered, smiling at her tap on his nose. “Yes, and while I was not wholly willing in the beginning, luckily there had been some persuasive reasons to indulge such an investment of talent. I will never forget it, or the time we spent together. No regrets.” Friderick told her, leaning up to kiss her gently on the lips, before he lay flat again on the bed beneath her. “And you doubt the influence you’ll have in your destiny as Duchess. You may not reveal to the world yet that you are a Dame skilled in arms and combat, but in time, five, ten years maybe, when you are secure in your position, you may portray yourself as openly as you wish.” Both his hands came to her sides, holding her steady, as he spoke a little excitedly of the power she might wield. It seemed so conspiratorial, the two of them aware of such a secret, and what ripples it might cause in their society.

“For a young woman, it is indeed regarded as scandalous and unbecoming. But for a young Lady, with property, wealth, armies even, I might think it would be regarded as…revolutionary, to be a Dame. Openly. And all will know. And they will pay their respects, as all warriors are due. And if not…well, they are old, and you are young, and it should be a far gone conclusion what will happen.” Friderick grinned encouragingly. She could upset the tiers of societal standards and norms. Maybe even pave the way for future women with her ideals and desires to do the same. Why was she so fearful of becoming one of the most powerful landowners and elite nobles on the continent?

“Because that is what we are working towards. This squiring work, it is only a stepping stone on your destined path to greatness, Jacqueline. You will move on to greater things. Without me, unfortunately. But I know you will be as prepared and ready for any challenge the world might throw at you.” Without Friderick, as he said, for she was a Duchess of renown and prestige, and he was only a Baron, lowly and poor. To marry him would be a downgrade in rank and standing, at least socially. They would mock her for it. And he could not be responsible or accountable for such pains and harms caused to her repute.
 
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