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Squire's Secret (Benny and Gunner)

It was not difficult to deny that Jacque had some good points about their new travel companion, Gilbert of Audoneus. But that was not the lesson Friderick was trying to instill. It wasn’t about what Gilbert could do and not do. It was about what Jacque was willing to do, out of the goodness and selfness of his own heart. Friderick learned a lot from Jacque’s answer to his lecture. “You seem to know a great deal of protecting the weak and innocent for someone who has never actually done it.” He pointed out with a quirked eyebrow. Though, when the boy had the gall to mention Count Theodore to him, Friderick’s eyes narrowed ever so dangerously.

Maybe he should send this pampered, spoiled brat of nobility back to his father.

He didn’t care how much money he was being paid to tutor Jacque in the ways of knighthood. He did not want to waste his breath instilling lessons on life and chivalry that may never be put into practice. Some nobles saw knighthood as simply a fancy title to add to their repertoire, something to distinguish themselves from the common masses. It either had meaning to be a knight, or it didn’t, and Jacque was looking as if he didn’t understand that. Did he only want to learn how to fight, to increase the ways he could bully and oppress others? In the end, the squire did consent to doing what was requested of him. Not in the way Friderick hoped. Jacque however couldn’t resist turning to spit one final remark about how shocking it was that Friderick would compare the two.

Whatever his title might be, Gilbert was weak and innocent. Despite his family’s wealth, he was not built for the cruel, raw realities of life. He probably never had to hunt or acquire his own food before. Or even knew the toil of having footwear dissolve from wear and tear on his very feet. Alone and unguided, he would succumb to the perils of the wilderness. Whatever the man might be, Friderick knew he had a duty to help and assist however he can. Jacque only saw it as an annoyance. He spoke of how their similarities ended at their noble birth. That is what Friderick had said, but no more. Jacque implied more. Therefore, was the boy subconsciously degrading Gilbert because he saw himself in the man? Faced with a harsh truth perhaps? Reminded of some similar helplessness once felt? Well whatever it was, the boy was going to face it head on and he either grew above it, or remained in his little spiral of misery then. And that too reflects on you as a mentor Friderick thought to himself.

There were no more complaints from Gilbert. He got boots for walking at least, no matter how uncomfortable they might be, and a decent meal to put into him. Being a noble, the only among the prisoners, the captors had been cruel and mocking to him. They moved back to camp without much event and there moved themselves further away from the scenes of carnage and death. The injured were made comfortable, the knights boasted of what little feats they could accomplish against such unworthy foes, and the wine was passed out generously. Friderick didn’t say a word to Jacque however, neither to condone or condemn the sudden acts of charity the boy did. He had nothing more to say on the topic. When Jacque did come around to check on his wound again, he merely assented wordlessly.

“He even eats like a fancy princeling.” Ser Reginard sneered in regards to Gilbert, who was sitting apart from the knights.

“He’ll bring a good exchange when he’s returned to his family.” Friderick answered.

“We’ll be able to buy some better provisions at least.” Ser Anchetil pointed out.

”We?” Friderick repeated with raised eyebrows.

“Come on, we all fought the bandits. Technically we all played some part in his release.” Ser Anchetil argued.

“I recall you having greater thirst for blood than for rescuing.” Friderick answered with a smile and a shake of his head.

“You’re rich enough anyways, Ser Baron of Alnerwick.” Ser Reginard scoffed. “What the fuck do you need that much money for anyways? You got a thousand peasants to do whatever you want. If that was me, I’d would have fucked every woman on my lands by now. No reason to leave.”

“Then you’d have a thousand peasants wanting to chase you out.” Friderick told him. “Those women are still someone’s daughter, sister, wife. It doesn’t work like that.”

“It shouldn’t work like that, but it does in some places.” Ser Anchetil said sadly.

“Hopefully not in Archensheen.” Ser Hermannus said.

“They say this tournament will be grandiose.” Ser Anchetil noted. “Not the typical tournament style for jousting but rather a winner-take-all, all challengers welcome. You stay in the competition until you are unhorsed, whether it be your first opponent, your fifth, tenth, a hundredth if you got the patience and endurance for it all. You rack up the wins and at the end of the day, whoever took down the most before their own unhorsing, if they were, is the winner.”

“There’s also a squires only melee tournament.” Ser Reginard said. “I’m going to enjoy watching those idiots whack the shit out of each other. Stupid kids.” He snorted with a laugh.

“Maybe we’ll see some competent squires to take on.” Friderick said quietly, though everyone heard. And their expressions were jeering, humoured, and curious, eyes flashing over to Jacque in wondering what he had done wrong. Friderick tossed the last of his wine into the fire and rose, turning towards his horse. Gilbert jumped up from where he sat alone and shuffled nervously over. “G-Good evening, Ser Knight. I was just wondering-“

“You’ll be bedding down in the fourth tent, over yonder.” Friderick said without looking at the man, digging through his satchels. He found what he wanted but he didn’t pull it out while Gilbert was around. “My squire will show you. And bed down within the same tent, should you require anything. Happy dreaming.” He said dismissively and Gilbert turned to look at Jacque with some astonishment and worry. In the meanwhile, Friderick pulled out some rolled up, and crumpled, parchment, as well as a quill feathered pen and a small jar of ink. He was going to go write a letter somewhere away from this group.
 
Friderick’s wound was actually doing better than she had expected, given his constant moving about and the simple poultice. If he could be bothered to hold still for a little it might even heal on its own. Then again a few stitches wouldn’t hurt, more or less. The constant passing of needle through flesh certainly wasn’t comfortable. Jacqueline was just angry enough, and just petty enough, to decide a few stitches were necessary. Friderick was silent but he assented to being fixed up. So Jacqueline settled into the circle of knights and got to work. As she cleaned off the poultice she listened on their conversation. All speaking, of course, about Gilbert. Jacqueline schooled her features as best as she could but she couldn’t help a small, amused smirk. Clearly not all of the knights thought Gilbert so helpless and in need of their charity.

Jacqueline was just starting to thread the tiny needle when Reginard spoke. At first just ribbing at Friderick. Wealthy though? She was certain he was anything but wealthy. Thousand some odd peasants maybe but given his description of home it wasn’t like they did much farming. Then the talk of women came up. A red hot pang shot through her body turning her hands numb for a moment. Jacqueline couldn’t believe what she had heard. Sure these were men, red blooded beneath whatever exterior they let show, but what he said was simply beyond vile. It took a steadying breath and Friderick’s immediate rebuke on the notion to steel her again. Jacqueline was rethinking the revenge stitching. Friderick might be a little overbearing at times, perhaps a little self-righteous too, but he was a good man in the end. The quick retort over what Reginard said was evidence enough. Maybe even the issues with Gilbert. Well she was too deep in. They might think it odd she suddenly decided not to stitch the wound.

It was a quick enough job and she did her best to be a little gentler than she originally intended to be. Talk turned to the tournament they were traveling to. Her ears perked up at mention of a squire melee. Now that would be something. She figured her chances were pretty decent if Friderick let her enter. Likely no prizes, mostly just for fun and entertainment. Her jaw clenched at Reginard’s comments towards squires too. Stupid kids indeed. Though a cold chill shot through her at Friderick’s comment. She glanced up at him after the quiet, throwaway comment. Well she had angered him so she supposed she could give him that. Though she felt the eyes of the knights on her. Boring down, amused and curious. With a light clearing of her throat she finished her task, applying salve and wrapping the wound up. Just a week or so and the stitches could come out. Easy enough work. Strange that none of the men seemed to know a thing about the skill of healing.

When Friderick stood she followed only for them to encounter Gilbert once more. Jacqueline scowled a little at the man but stayed quiet as he fluttered and fumbled over his words. Friderick, however, seemed to suddenly be lacking patience with the peacock and cut him off sharply. His mood sour Jacqueline watched as he dug through his saddle bag but didn’t fish out what he searched for. Her eyes went wide at his plotting though. She would bed down with Gilbert? Her head jerked back in surprise, looking sharply over at the noble. Great. Hard enough to take care and stay hidden just around Friderick. At least she had learned his habits. What if the peacock was a distraught pillow biter? Lord have mercy. Her lips pressed to a firm line but she huffed a light sigh. “Follow me,” she said, glancing at Gilbert who looked more than a little worried about the arrangement. “I’m told my bark is worse than my bite,” she said with a mild, wry smirk.

Obediently she showed Gilbert to the tent and tossed in a bedroll for him. “I trust you are able to tuck yourself in? If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return in a minute.” She took the chance and crept into the woods to find brush to tuck into for bodily ministrations. One more she thanked the Lord for her choice in black breeches. At least the cramping had subsided. She was gone for only ten minutes before returning to the tent she was to share with Gilbert. He had better not be in need of anything or demand anything foolish. Perhaps to keep Friderick appeased she might fetch it but she would glare and growl all the same.

Come morning she was quick to rise and help get everything ready to depart. The sooner they left the sooner they got rid of the peacock and things would get back to normal. As normal as it could ever be of course given she was pretending to be her brother, on the road with such an odd group of men.
 
With Friderick gone, Gilbert was left with Jacque. The bedroll wasn’t much, but it beat sleeping in a cramped cage against the iron bars. Before the squire could walk off on whatever it was Jacque had to do, Gilbert suddenly turned and called out to him. “Wait!” He said, even reaching out his hand to grab the boy, though he stopped half-way and pulled it back. He looked awkward and eyes down at his own feet. “I…thank you, Esquire Lancaster.” He said formally in a meek tone and then crawled into bed after that. He didn’t have anything to say or request when Jacque returned, focusing on sleep.

As for the Baron himself, he returned eventually, with a scrolled parchment, the letter he had written. He simply returned it to his saddlebag and took the first watch, choosing to sleep under the stars after that. He didn’t mind it much. And he wanted to think about his present circumstances, about love, and mentoring, and how life was so complicated. He really hoped he didn’t end up with a spoiled, mean-spirited lad to train and teach, who disdained charity and goodwill. Gilbert wasn’t easy to deal with, but all the more glory in kindness for the greater self-sacrificing to the man. If Jacque could only understand the duty then no amount of charity would be too much or too little for him. As a future Duke, Jacque could influence much with the right attitude. And if he didn’t, Friderick would feel as if he had failed all those people who might have gotten something better.

Morning came and so a routine was established on the approach to Archensheen. They rode in their column, the wagon following behind, and sent out scouts in pairs of two to ensure there was no pursuit or any other ambush. They didn’t meet a soul on their several days of travel, until they crossed into the boundaries of the Duchy of Archensheen, ruled by Duke Tancred, a man with wealth, power, and influence in Swadia. They met soldiers, but the lawful kind, who pointed out to the knights the way to the castle-town. Others were congregating. And after a week and a half in the wilds, they were once again thrust into the mass of civilization, crowded with stone buildings, people, and the stench of cramped conditions of so many people in one area.

Archensheen was large, dwarfing most castle-towns in the region. It seemed a quaint place. Market towns on the road, cultivated farms all around, with controlled thickets of forestry. Windmills turned lazily on hills, while the hammering of smiths rang endlessly all around in the distance. Dogs barked and cats stalked in aisleways, alongside the cutthroats and pocket-thieves. They must be doing well for themselves, given the large proportion of upper class guests in their own. Most people lived outside the walls, though within encompassed a decent sized town of brick and marble villas, while a large keep sat upon the tallest hill, brimming with fluttering banners and pendants.

Duke Tancred had a son, one of several, about Jacque and Jacqueline’s age. Once, Duke Lancaster had discussed a marriage alliance with the Archensheen family. Even had them to visit. Tancred’s son, Clotaire was quiet as a mouse. During the feast, Clotaire had been seated beside Jacqueline. He seemed infatuated with her, but could barely say a word. The marriage pact didn’t amount to anything but… What if he saw Jacqueline here, and recognized her?

Again, they had to find a patch of land outside the walls and pitch up their tents, alongside the many other groups or singular units of knights and whoever else came in their entourages. Some dared it alone. Others wisely traveled in groups. As usual, on the first day, everyone separated to go explore on their own. Friderick called Jacque to his side. He had barely spoken to the boy. And they had not been training the past couple of days. Friderick had a reason for that which was not personal. If Jacque was to compete in the tournament for squires, he needed to be full rested, and not aching or sore after severe drilling and swordplay.

“Fetch the Lord Gilbert. We’ll go into town and locate his relatives. Collect our reward. Then off to the registry lists. Myself for the joust…and you for the squire’s melee. Pray that it is an appetizer to the main joust, for no one will care if it’s at the end.” Friderick said, buckling his sword belt, fully dressed and armoured in his checkered blacks and whites. He handed his banner staff to Jacque as well. “After, you’ll deliver a letter from me to the Lady Aurianne. I do not know where she is staying so you’ll have to look. You might have to remain to receive a reply as well. After, you can have the evening to yourself to explore. Remember, curfew is an hour before sundown.” Friderick told the boy, shield slung over his back. He looked like a proper knight, in chain mail, with his long surcoat and arms of war. One of many in this place at the moment. Knights of peace. Few had actually seen combat, against other knights.

“The Audoneus family is rich and powerful, as you probably know. Dukes, like your father. In any case, we will refuse any cash reward. Do you understand? Gifts of gear or clothing we may accept, for functionality purposes. But not coin, in gold, silver, or jewels. Do you understand? Be on your best behavior otherwise.” Friderick explained, before allowing Jacque to go bring Gilbert Audoneus to him.
 
The first morning Jacqueline couldn’t help but ponder the shy but formal thanks from Gilbert. It was something had hadn’t expected of the man. Maybe a curt, snorting sort of thanks that sounded more like he shouldn’t have to thank anyone. It left Jacqueline just as bewildered as when Fabien stood, with a grievous wound in his neck, to save her life from a surprise attack. People were full of surprises she supposed. Maybe no one was singularly dimensional and could learn lessons or be good people when called on. She decided to let it ride out and was equally pleasant to Gilbert for that morning and the remainder of the trip. Of course she wouldn’t take being spoken to like a servant but she helped the poor, sad creature out when necessary. Perhaps Friderick had been just a little right about their duties and chivalry. Even still she stuck by the notion that a grown man should be able to fend for himself a little. She kept a keen eye on Fabien too, ensuring his wounds were cleaned and redressed. Honestly she was surprised he had made it so many days. Each morning she expected to wake with the news he had passed in the night. The rest of the trip was quiet. No attacks, no bandits, simple routines. The wounded were recovering well and most everyone seemed more than ready for a real campsite rather than the rough and ready tents they had been sleeping in. It was strange that Friderick seemed almost distant. No lectures, not even training.

Finally they came to Archensheen. It was certainly massive and very well organized. She had known a little about the castle-town from when Duke Tancred and his son had visited. Of course she had learned most of it from the other courtiers and servants that had accompanied the Duke and his son, Clotaire, rather than from either of them. She had spoken more with the Duke than the son, despite the sad attempt of matchmaking, and even then she possibly spoke less than a limerick worth of words to the Duke. As for Clotaire she had said the proper words of greeting and farewell. That was all. She cringed to remember the feast, how the boy had kept staring at her yet said nothing. Admittedly she hadn’t even tried to engage him in conversation. If he was so silent it was obvious he would have nothing of interest to say to her anyways. Her mother was not entirely happy with how she had behaved with the possible match. Of course that was putting it mildly. Jacqueline wasn’t too worried about the Duke and his family. It had been a couple of years since she had seen them and she had fooled a pack of men for a month into believing she was a boy. They would know no different.

A patch of decent land was found for them to erect the sturdier canvas tents for the tournament. Jacqueline helped set up the camp with the other squires. They were quick and efficient with erecting the tents and setting up the circles of fires. Jacqueline was checking on Fabien again, ensuring he was made comfortable enough in his tent when Friderick found her. She glanced up and down at him, fully dressed and armored by himself. For a moment she felt a hard pang in her guts. He armored up by himself? But that was her job. Was he really going to fire her from being his squire? Pack her back off to Lancaster? She sharply nodded to his command to fetch Gilbert and that they would take him back to his family. His comment about participating in the squire melee gave her some heart. If he wanted her to participate in that perhaps he wasn’t going to pack her off just yet.

Then the letter for Lady Aurainne. She tried hard not to cringe at the thought. Especially as he slung his shield onto his back. Friderick looked every bit a knight from songs. She would honestly prefer to go back to bickering on the road than watch his soppy performances with Lady Dunderhead. It stuck in her craw that Friderick was still so ardently infatuated with a woman who couldn’t seem to keep her mind on one man at a time. “I understand, no rewards save for gifts of purpose and function if granted.” Obviously she didn’t care, her family was plenty wealthy and she hardly needed it. Though Friderick could certainly use the bit of coin. At least for finer attire for a feast. Jacqueline turned and headed off to round up Gilbert. He was easy enough to find and usher along given her was going back to his family, back to luxury and a fine bath.

The group of three walked through the bustling town. Jacqueline looked around the town. Odd to think, if her father had forced it, the town might have been her home. Duchess of Archensheen. Definitely not a fan of the idea. It was a nice enough castle-town but she preferred the expansive lands of her own home. The comfort of quiet and of space. Cities were far too noisy and smelly for her taste if she were being perfectly honest.

After what seemed like ages of walking through the town they made it up to the keep. Between their titles and circumstances they were permitted in. The group was hardly fifty feet into the keep when a shriek of “Gilbert!” reverberated through the stone halls. A frumpy yet incredibly fast woman rushed forward and nearly jumped onto Gilbert. “Oh my boy! My baby boy!” She howled and sobbed, squeezing Gilbert tight to her bosom. Jacqueline’s red eyebrows raised in bewildered amusement. Obviously Gilbert’s mother. A portly man ambled down the hall, somehow regal, with the Duke of Archensheen. Praise God Clotaire was not in tow. While Jacqueline was confident he wouldn’t recognize her she couldn’t help the sudden pang of worry that maybe her disguise wasn’t too perfect.

“Baron Friderick, we can’t thank you enough,” Gilbert’s father said as he approached, offering a hand for a firm handshake. “My wife was beside herself with worry. I think I have not seen the woman run so fast in years,” he said with a good natured chuckle. “If there is anything we can do for you, anything at all, just ask it of us. We have a fine villa in this city if you would prefer to stay for the duration of the tournament. Private, comfortable quarters and even baths. It would be an honor if you would at least stay with us.” The tone was polite but insistent. Meanwhile Gilbert’s mother was still dramatically sobbing and clinging to her son.

“And I am sure the Baron would be more than happy to take you up on your offer and you two can discuss later…but I must have a word with the young Duke of Lancaster,” Tancred said as a sad gaze settled on the red haired squire. Jacqueline’s guts seized at that face. He knew! No, he couldn’t know. Could he? Jacqueline swallowed hard and stepped forward. “My lord?” Tancred sighed heavily and shook his head, “not here. Come, please,” he said with a wave. “Ser Friderick you, too, are welcome to come as this concerns your squire.” He walked away to leave Gilbert with his family and led the pair to an antechamber. Sparse yet comfortable, a place perhaps to sit and discuss over a fine port or write letters. “Please, sit,” he offered. Once all were comfortable he heaved another sigh.

“Jacque…it is your sister. She…never made it to the convent,” he said. His brows were furrowed in sympathy and concern. Jacqueline sat a moment staring at the Duke as though he had sprouted a new head. It was surreal to be spoken of in such a way. At least she knew the disguise was working well enough. “Boy…are you in shock? I said your sister is missing.” Jacqueline jumped in her seat. Oh right, she was supposed to be incensed that she was supposed to be missing. Something like that. “I…I yes…just a…a shock. I can’t believe…do they even know…?” At least her fear of saying the wrong thing made it seem like a sibling in severe shock of the disappearance of a sister. She honestly couldn’t believe her parents figured out the disappearance so quickly. Likely they sent a letter ahead of her demanding notification of her arrival.

“A search has been mounted but the worst is feared. No letters of ransom have been sent yet. Here,” he stood and went to a drawer to take out the letter the Duke of Lancaster had sent and handed it over. Jacqueline read it, then read it again. Feared dead or kidnapped. No ransom. Stay with Friderick. No word on going home just yet.
 
“My Lady.” Friderick could only say respectfully as who he assumed to be Gilbert’s mother jumped right on him. A soft smile at their reunion spread over his lips. The relief and happiness of his parents was certainly a reward to be favored, for not many got a second chance like this to be with their families after such tragedy befalls them. He and Jacque were presently ignored as Gilbert was babied and greeted. Who knew how long he had been missing, the heir and scion of House Audoneus. Both his father and the Duke of Archensheen, Lord Tancred, soon appeared, the ordeal of the Audoneus clan no doubt known to them as well. Friderick bowed politely to them both, arm across his chest, clenched fist over his heart, to Duke of Archensheen and the Duke of Audoneus both. Such high and fanciful company.

“My thanks, Lord.” Friderick cut in, after Duke Tancred tried to answer for him. “But I understand there will be much coming and going with this wonderful tournament the Lord Tancred has hosted. And we knights make such unbearable noise with the clamour and ring of our steel during practice. Your offer is generous, but I must respectfully refuse. The fields and tents shall be enough for us, so we might remain in the mindset of our competition. I hope you will understand.” Friderick answered, though making use of the villa baths is something they could do, after the tournament. Both Dukes seemed in agreement with this, or rather let it slide, as there were more pressing issues in regards to his squire.

They followed the elder Duke and host into another room. As Jacque’s guardian it certainly did concern him, though he wondered what it could be. Perhaps the boy was being recalled to home? Such things happened if something befell the boy’s father. Perhaps even as he stood here, Jacque himself was now Duke of Lancaster, adding to the high ranking company that the lowly Baron was sharing. And here you were thinking you need a new Squire. Careful what you wish for, God might just be listening. Now Friderick didn’t know what he wanted. In either case, he remained silent and sat when beckoned, watching his squire with a concerned expression. Surely this could not be good news.

Turns out the boy’s sister never made it to the convent. Strange that they would send his sister to a convent. They were usually dumps for third or fourth children but Jacque and his sister, as Friderick recalled, were twins. Maybe the wild streak that he described her as having was too much to find her a suitable match? Then what made them think they could put her in a nun coven instead? In any case, he too agreed that Jacque…didn’t seem phased too much. Why was that? Maybe he didn’t understand the gravity of the news? Or simply expected it of his sister? But who knew if his sister had run. There were no ransom letters but that could only mean one hadn’t reached them yet, or at least by the time this message was sent to Jacque. He remained silent as Jacque read the letter and only when he put it down, with a glance to Lord Tancred, did Friderick speak.

“We should go, to help with the search.” Friderick suggested to Jacque. “The tournament can wait. There will be a lifetime for those. But you only have one sister and the best chance of finding her trail has to be soonest to her missing, or else it will go cold. I’m sure your father has many men out there but it might be assuring to know his son and heir is close by as well. They’ll have need of you in these hard times, Jacque.” Friderick explained to the boy softly, reaching out to put his hand on the squire’s shoulder in a reassuring fashion, squeezing it. He couldn’t read the boy’s expression though. Was he worried? Concerned? Frightened? Or simply did not care? He hoped it was not the latter. That would be another notch on a dark ladder descending into an abyss Friderick did not even want to think about.

Wine, water, and small snacks were brought, though it went untouched by the adults at least. A missing girl was a serious affair. And they were each aware of the horrendous and terrifying ends that young women could come to. There were many sick and twisted individuals out there who would do evil and wicked things to captive women. Each were praying it was not the case.

“Father,” a voice cut in, deep…and yet familiar, “what has happened? Sorry to intrude-” And in the threshold of the doorway stood Lord Clotaire, Tancred’s son, and heir to the Duchy of Archenseen. A handsome, lean man, with dreamy, wavy black hair and a strong jaw. Nothing like what he was a few years ago. He didn’t even spare a glance towards Jacque.

“Esquire Lancaster here, his sister has gone missing.” The Duke informed gravely, shaking his head. “From the convent she was meant to go to.”

Surprisingly, the young Lord let out a laugh. “That is no surprise. It is obvious she ran.” He snorted, coming over and plopping himself down next to his father, facing Friderick and Jacque. Still he did not seem to recognize Jacqueline. He knew Jacque though. He thought Jacque was quiet as a mouse. “I know her. You could tell she was like a wound up wildcat, ready to flip tables. You think they could have controlled her at a convent? She would have raised ten types of hell in there.” He snorted with amusement.

“By all accounts the fire does burn hot in her spirit.” Friderick said, unaware that the real Jacqueline was listening to these men discuss her as if they knew her.

Clotaire snorted again, slouching back in his couch. Here was a man who was barely seventeen and already had a bastard boy out there in the world. He was haughty and arrogant. “That fire should have been snuffed out at an early age. Her parents must be so embarrassed. I don’t know how you lived with her.” He said to Jacque.

“On the contrary, I think such spirit of fire should be cultivated.” Friderick disagreed. “You never know when life might get cold. That’s the sort of person you want at your side when things get tough.”

“Hah, like sticking your hand into a fire. That’s what’s going to happen to you.” Clotaire argued.

“For some, the spirit can burn more brightly than their own bodies can handle.” Friderick pointed out.

“And you,” Clotaire suddenly said, “does your spirit burn hot? I hear you are competing, Baron Alnerwick. Will I see you in the lists?”

“I don’t know.” Friderick said, refusing to be baited. “It all depends on what the young Lord here wishes to do.”

“Stay, and watch your mentor be unhorsed. We could have been brothers, Jacque. Stay.” Clotaire then tried to convince Jacque. Stay, and enjoy wine, women, and mirth like he had never seen before.
 
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What to do? What to do? Guilt gnawed and clawed in her guts. She didn't expect her parents to learn about a disappearance so swiftly. So certain she had been that it would be months before her absence was noted. At least the look of shock she bored was enough to warrant excuses. The Duke and Baron simply didn't know, couldn't know, the true reason for it. How could she let her parents wallow in worry for her absence? Perhaps she could send a letter. They would recognize her hand. Say she ran off with some merchant or sailor. Could she even do that without Friderick finding out? She knew he kept parchment, ink, and quill around. Likely writing simpering notes to his lady love.

A strong hand on her shoulder startled her out of her reverie. She hadn't entirely heard what Friderick had to say but her head whipped around to look at him. She had caught enough to understand he wanted to take her back. "I...uh...sorry I just still can't believe this news." Had to think fast. Cry? No, men didn't cry. Refreshments were brought in but she didn't touch them either. "I'm certain she is-" Jacqueline began quietly but was cut off by a rumbling yet familiar voice.

Her blood rushed and seized in frozen pools. Slowly she turned to glance over her shoulder. Clotaire. Great. By heaven he looked different though. She watched as he strode across the room, as cocksure as a young rooster. This couldn't be the same young man who sat silently beside her through the longest feast of her life. All silent and tongue tied. He was handsome, she would give him that. She had rebuffed his, well, his lack of advances but she imagined he had no shortage of those any more. The sudden laugh after his father's explanation of the gathering made her eyebrows raise in surprise. Of all the men present he laughed? As he went on to speak of her felt felt both a pride in the description and a sickening that he would speak of her in such a way.

She had spoken, oddly, of herself to Friderick once. He had not been off-put by the description, though Clotaire's account was a bit less flattering. She wasn't that bad. Was she? She had only wanted to flip tables because of the insufferable silence at her side. Though when Clotaire said the fire should have been snuffed, that she was an embarrassment to the family Jacqueline's body jerked as if to rise. Rise and leapt across the table to throttle the handomse idiot. Though she stopped as Friderick stepped in to defend her. Well, the concept of her. He didn't know her. Sort of. He did but he didn't know he did. It was complicated. She looked up at Friderick as he argued with Clotaire. Argued that a burning fire was to be admired and fed rather than extinguished.

Talk quickly turned to the tournament. Jacqueline tilted her head some at Clotaire. See him in the lists? Could he be a knight already? He was so young still! How could that even be possible? She tried to remember if he said he was squiring when he had come to their home. Then she remembered he didn't say a single thing. Stay and watch your mentor be unhorsed. Jacqueline's eye twitched. What an abominable, arrogant, ass! She suddenly stood, briefly looking like she might lunge across the room and throttle the man where he sat.

"I will not stay to watch Ser Friderick be unhorsed. I will stay and watch him unseat every cocksure, crowing, coxcomb who dare enlist in the tournament. You've clearly aged from the meek, mewling, mouse you were when you visited in hopes of taking her hand. Consider yourself lucky she refused your hand. She would have eaten you alive." She quickly turned to Friderick before he could argue that they should go looking for her. "I know she is safe and unharmed. A couple days for the tournament won't hinder a search. She would want you to compete, I know she would. Please, Ser Friderick, just stay and win. I know that's what she would want. She always did love tournaments."

The Duke was notably taken aback by the vitriol hurled at his son. It shouldn't surprise him. He remembered Jacqueline well and, given Jacque was her twin, it didn't surprise him they were so similar. Though he remembered a more quiet and studious boy perhaps, like his own son, the boy had grown some balls. "Young lord...I would caution you to mind your tongue. Given the circumstances I will believe such words are cause by grief and shock. As I have a tournament to oversee I will take my leave. Come Clotaire, there is much to be done still," he said as he stood and beckoned his son to follow.

Jacqueline bowed politely but offered no apology to the insults. All she could pray for was that Friderick would listen. Given their history she was certain they would soon be on their way to Lancaster
 
The moment Jacque opened his mouth, Friderick already sensed trouble. The boy didn’t even need to finish his list of disreputable traits that Clotaire must possess before he sighed with irritation at his behavior. True, Clotaire had spoken ill of his sister but there were far more diplomatically ways to handle that! Like turning the other cheek, or showing the other boy up through action, rather than stooping to his level of stupidity with words. He reached out and put his hand on Jacque’s shoulder again, as if to both restrain his squire and to protect him, in case Clotaire should seek retribution for those words. Still, the boy did have some fire. Whatever was in the sister certainly ran in the brother.

Jacque made his decision though. He believed his sister, whatever she was up to, was in full control of it and there was nothing to worry about. Surely he would know his twin best. “Apologies for his behavior. It is a trying time for him, so far from home and family. We thank you for your hospitality and this news.” Friderick said, forced to make the apologies since Jacque decided his tongue did not work anymore. He cast his own disapproving eyes at the redhead. No respect.

Clotaire just glared at Jacque but was pre-emptively done out by his own father. He simply snorted. Jacque was shorter than the rest of them. Like a little pipsqueak. He wasn’t even competing in the joust like a real man ought to. Not worth his time and his facial expression showed it as he huffed and walked away with his father, leaving the knight and squire alone. Friderick sighed again and slumped back in his chair. But it only lasted a moment. His hand swung out and slapped Jacque on the back of the head, a glancing blow, but one that would leaving a throbbing sting. “You really have no manners, do you? Look, you can make yourself into an island and fence yourself from this world. But this world will not forget you. Learn some respect, you dumb fool. That man and his son are our host.” Friderick pointed after them, still looking at Jacque with a disbelieving scowl.

“So what if he spoke ill of your sister? Are you going to fight all her battles for her? And you showed yourself as much a fool as him by responding with such ramblings. Keep your cool and keep your mouth shut if you have nothing nice to say. Now he knows you have a weakness. Soon enough everyone will know. Little Lord Lancaster loves his wildflower sister. I hope you’re ready to face a hundred of them needling you over it. And you can’t fight them all.” Friderick concluded and shaking his head, he got to his feet finally and looked for the exit. He had enough of this place. But first…

“Baron Alnerwick!” A matriarchal voice called out, when they reached the foyer of the castle. The voice had some authority to it, as Friderick wasn’t the only one who paused and turned to look at the speaker. At the top of the stairs stood a woman, regal and elderly. Her hair was black, though there was a streak of silver on the right side that was quite enticing. Yet the woman’s face was smooth, barely wrinkled, and her figure was tall and stately. She wore a red gown, laced with pearls and other small white gems, indicating wealth and status. Despite her age, her figure was slender and unbent, with breasts that were remarkably perky given her age and a set of hips. Her waistline was small and she must be wearing the tightest corset ever, though it had no effect on her, where it might have choked a lesser woman.

“Duchess Audoneus.” Friderick said, bowing on one knee when the woman made her way over. Duchess Emma Audoneus. She offered her hand and he kissed it, standing after. The same would be expected of Jacque, though this woman didn’t even spare the boy a glance. Her bright eyes were only for Friderick. This was Gilbert’s grandmother. She looked far more vigorous and energetic than her daughter-in-law. In her youth, they said, she had been a pearl diver, something uncommon for a woman of nobility, and only a task fit for fishermen’s wives. Yet she continued the hobby, often, and the results of her deep swims were evident in her body. Even Friderick was…bewitched by it.

Yet the woman was a Duchess, ruling with an iron fist in a masculine world, and had no patience for flattery or small talk. “You are the one who rescued my idiot grandson.” She pointed out, a fact rather than a question.

“I am the one.” Friderick answered, trying not to seem arrogant or haughty. But it couldn’t be helped in this case. The Duchess sized him up with her eyes, liking what she saw.

“A man with prowess and capability. Such a rarity these days.” The Duchess said. “I could use a man like you. A real man. Someone who has the courage to slay the villains and stand up for the innocents. Pledge to me, Lord, and I shall make you rich.”

Friderick bowed low again. “Your offer is generous, my Lady. But mercenary work does not suit me. Besides, I have my own lands to worry about. And they require me, their only Lord, and will not abide me serving another.” He explained, not wishing to tie himself to…a bloody minded woman.

It might be an equal mistake to refuse her. For a moment she looked at him, as if not comprehending his actions. She was not used to being refused. Not by anyone. “Fools deserve a fool then.” She then said.

“I am the Baron of fools it would seem.” Friderick answered with a smile.

“You could do so much more for them with my help. You are not making a wise decision.” The Duchess said in a low, warning tone.

“But it would be your name they would be praise, since it is your money that is helping them. Perhaps another time, Duchess.” Friderick said, trying to detach himself from this woman as quick as he could. With a bow, he grabbed Jacque by his shoulder and led him outside the keep. Once again in the sun, he could sigh and for a moment stood in the middle of the road, shoulders slump and head tilted back as he gazed at the sky. Then he closed his eyes and sighed once more. Then he dipped his head forward and looked at Jacque, digging into his gear and pulling out a neatly folded letter. “Go find the whereabouts of Lady Aurianne please. Deliver this to her and await a reply, if she will give one.” Friderick said suddenly. He needed some good news this day.

“I’m going to get a drink. Don’t be late.” He said and began to walk off without even waiting for Jacque’s reply. He was tired of dealing with the boy as well, with his rudeness and impulsive behavior. Clearly he wanted to be a Lord, like Clotaire, rather than understanding the intricacies of rule, service, and the ties that bonded one to the other.
 
Jacqueline stared Clotaire down as if he were scum of the earth. Even as Friderick laid a large, heavy hand on her shoulder and made apologies for the outburst she felt ready to throttle the jerk. Always polite, always the educator. He shouldn't need to make apologies! Clotaire had been utterly insulting! Rude to boot, he should be making the apologies. No, instead he got up with his cocky little snort and glare, tramping out after his daddy. Oh he thought he was something grand alright. Jacqueline praised God she rebuffed the boy's advances. What a maggot he had turned out to be. She glared down the back of his head as he left with his father. To the side she heard Friderick huff a sigh and slump back into the chair.

"Ah!" She hissed at the sudden strike. A hand jumped up and ruffled the back of her head. Not anything overly painful, just a light and lingering sting. She looked over at Friderick as he started another one of his famous lectures. As he spoke she scowled right back. Part of her understood where he came from. It had been rather rude to speak like that. At the same time Clotaire had no right to speak of her or Friderick like that. Never mind this was 'their' tournament they needed to learn manners too! It was hardly fair. "But they-" she began to argue only to be cut up by a sharp, shrill, shout from down the hall.

The woman that appeared seemed a living paradox. By all accounts she looked a scant few years older than Jacqueline herself. Yet as she drew near Jacqueline could see the age on her. Elegant and lovely despite her advance age. Jacqueline looked the woman up and down in surprise and awe. Lord in heave she wished she looked so well at her age. The name came to mind as Friderick dropped to a knee. Jacqueline was slow to follow suit. It was a polite, formal greeting. Jacqueline reached up to follow suit with Friderick but was easily ignored. Oh being rude was fine and well for this woman was it? Jacqueline got heavily to her feet and waited as the pair spoke. Her red eyebrows raised curiously at the offer, more like a demand, the woman made of Friderick. Was this normal behavior? Suddenly demanding a man swear himself as such? Did she not know he had his own affairs and estates? Friderick had strange luck with women it seemed. The one he languished over could hardly remember his name, this one knew his name but demanded immediate service. How strange.

Jacqueline expected no less of Friderick than to deny the woman what she demanded. The woman's reprimand of the decision dropped Jacqueline's jaw. The low, obvious threat made her skin break into strange, light tingles and her blood run warm. Who did this woman think she was? And Friderick had called her rude! Honestly! Jacqueline was busy with a scowl when Friderick grabbed her shoulder and ushered her out of the keep. She didn't fight and was quick to jog along side, more than glad to be away. There was something strange about that place. So much had happened all at once she was more than glad to be out and away.

When they stopped she looked up at Friderick with that off clump of his shoulders and head tilted back. Her eyebrows pulled together curiously. Tired? Probably. Tired of all the nonsense. Jacqueline winced some realizing part of his exhaustion must be from her attitude. He had spent a good deal of breath chastising the way she spoke to others. Perhaps, for his sake at least, she might consider toning it down. When he looked down at her she tried to wipe the wince of pity and apology off her face. She said nothing as he fished out the letter and gave instructions. Of course. Lady Featherhead. Jacqueline attempted a confident smile. Though perhaps it came off as more of a grimace. "Of course," she managed as he turned and walked away, saying he needed a drink.

Luckily finding nobility was a little simpler than finding commoners. The soldiers were the best to start with, they could often be seen escorting nobility to and from the keep. One didn't know but he knew a guard who had done escort duty. One lead led to another until she was shown to the villa where the auspicious lady was staying. Jacqueline gripped the letter and sighed heavily. She desperately didn't want to deliver it. Only because Aurianne was a vile creature that didn't deserve Friderick's attentions. Yes, that was the only reason. Aurainne's footman was as slow as his mistress.

"And...who are you again?" The man asked as he looked down his beaked nose at the small squire.

Jacqueline huffed an irritated sigh, trying her best to remain polite. "Jacque of Lancaster, Esquire for Baron Friderick of Alnerwick. Lady Aurainne graced him with her favor in the previous tournament. The one in Archmouth."

"And why can I not bring her the letter and let you on your way?" The man said in a low, annoyed, nasally voice.

Jacqueline's fingers clenched. Be polite, be polite, be polite. "I gave my word to give this to her and await a reply," she said through clenched teeth.

"Wait here." With that the door was slammed in her face. Oh and Friderick called her rude?

A good twenty minutes passed before the door opened again and she was allowed in. The lady was lounging with her other ladies. Sipping tea, eating cakes, doing needle point. All the things good, proper ladies did. Boring. Jacqueline approached Aurainne and held out the letter. "Ah yes, Fredgar. Handsome man of course. My footman tells me you must await a reply?"

"Yes my lady," Jacqueline said with a nod only to suddenly be surrounded by high titters of laughter.

"Hush now ladies," Aurainne chided them. "Can you be a dear and wait outside? This will take a while and this is a place for women to be...alone."

Jacqueline bowed politely and left to wait outside the doors. She could hear little but the occasional chorus of giggles. She waited and waited. How long did it take to write a letter? The sun paced through the sky as she waited. For a while she paced but finally sat. Surely she dozed off at some point while awaiting a letter. The sun was disappearing from the sky when the doors finally opened. Jacqueline stomped to her feet. She sank her teeth into her cheek to keep any comments from bursting forth.

"Please give this to dear Fredgar," Aurainne said with a simpering smile as she passed over a small bit of parchment. The bit was so small that it could have been tied to a pidgeon's leg and delivered. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion but she nodded and took the tiny note. Though as the note was passed over she noted a glint at Aurainne's fingers. The digit next to the pinky on her left hand. Dear Lord in heaven.

"I will," she said and turned to go.

It was nearly sunset before Jacqueline made it back to camp with the tiny note in hand. She dreaded to give it to Friderick. Such a small note didn't bode well. Prose of sappy love and undying devotion couldn't be written so small. Finally she found Friderick but was painfully hesitant to hand over the note. With a hard, cringing swallow she held out the tiny scroll to him. If the glimmering ring were any indication of what the note said Friderick was in for a rough read. However short.
 
Friderick didn’t go to camp after parting ways with Jacque. No, he went right to one of the many crowded and flushed taverns in the town, luckily finding a table where he could sit by himself and just…let his mind wander. He listened to the talk of others and sipped on the overpriced ale they sold, needing some alone time. He did hear some interesting gossip though from the loose tongues wagging with intoxication. He listened to a trio of workers discuss the dimensions and labour they put into arranging the jousting fields and melee squares, while another group of better dressed merchants discussed how much wine, foodstuff, and other metal ores were in demand to supply it all. But the most interesting new he heard was about the old Duchess Audoneus herself.

Apparently she was a financer and patron of this tournament, supporting her colleague Duke Tancred in his efforts. She had her hand in everything, through her many staff, her spiderlike handmaidens, her influence with the court of the Boy-Emperor of Swadia and the royal residence of the King of Frankia. They hinted that right down to the registration lists, she had power to write off anyone she pleased. And Friderick had pissed her off by refusing her help. Apparently he wasn’t the first though.

The first day in Archensheen was not at all how he expected it go. Transporting a rescued captive, interacting with the Duke, the news of Jacque’s sister and the squire’s own behavior, as well as the two seemingly prominent women in his life, Lady Aurianne and Duchess Emma Audoneus, his prospects weren’t looking so good. He had no one to talk to. His sister was far away. His subordinates in Alnerwick too illiterate to read a letter. A true fool he felt like. His only friend was his sword. So eventually he stalked back to camp, found a tree, and spent some good time whacking and striking it aimlessly with a sparring blade.

Then Jacque returned, bearing a scroll, and he snatched it up like a parched traveler might to water in a desert. He didn’t say a word to Jacque as he read it, eyes darting back and forth. He read it several times. This couldn’t be it. And it was not at all what one would expect, given Aurianne’s new status. In fact there was no mention of that. It was as confusing as ever. To my devoted Baron. I await eagerly your next victory dedication in my name. A most marvelous gift it shall be, to adorn the most wonderful thing that is to happen in my life. I hope you can be there to present it before my friends and family. Yours, Lady Aurianne. It seemed to Friderick that Lady Aurianne wanted to be swept off her feet with a victory by him.

He had no clue she was hoping to use his dedication to further boost her reputation as an enviable wedding gift on the day of the announcement of such, to sensationalize her marriage. Betrothed to a rich Count, the center of attention, and to be further blessed by having a great tournament won in her name by an admirer whom she thought of nothing more than a friend. Friderick had no idea that any of this was afoot. He was only adamant to win the tournament for her. He crumpled the paper and threw it into the heart of their campfire. He didn’t want to hear about anything else. “We train.” He told Jacque and sent him to fetch the heavy sparring swords.

Four days would pass in succession before the tournament was finally organized with all the competitors. Still, Friderick did not know. He only pressed Jacque in training. After all, the boy was to enter his first competition. A squire’s tournament. And on the fifth day since their arrival, it was to be held at noon.

They had not trained the night before. Friderick wanted the boy to have some rest, to invigorate his growing muscles and relax. He had the boy eat heartily for strength and then an early sleep, difficult because the rest of the knights and squires all got drunk usually in the late evening. Now it was the day of the tournament. It wasn’t as packed as the joust usually was. This was for squires after all. No one gave a shit. The Duke wasn’t even there and some other official from his court was presiding. There were thirty other contestants, young boys, aged fifteen to eighteen, though more among the younger side of the spectrum. There were a few large boys, ones who matured earlier, looking almost like young men. They were confident and estimated to win over the more hesitant, awkward, and nervous boys.

In a strange turn of events, it was Friderick who was helping Jacque into his armour. He gave him the standardized round wooden shield and a blunted sword. “Listen to me carefully, lad.” Friderick said as they stood a little apart from the other contestants and their supporters. “This is going to be a shit show. You saw how it went with my melee. The dumb ones rush to the middle and throw all their energy and reserves in the brawl, until they are knocked out or left out of breath. Don’t be the stupid one. Linger on the edge. Keep your back to the perimeter. There is no outing or disqualification but don’t allow yourself to be pressed to a wall. Have a flank, but keep your eye on it. Others might have the same idea. Watch out for them. Don’t get tunnel vision.” He said, pulling Jacque’s helm onto the boy’s head and giving the side of it an encouraging clonk with his hand.

“Preserve your energy. Don’t commit to stupid swings. Keep your shield up. Always. Don’t trust anyone. Not even Abrahil or Brice.” He said, referring to the other squires in their party who were also enrolled in this competition. Abrahil was still an asshole, even without Fabien’s leadership. Brice at least was polite and made an effort to talk to Jacque. He had even gotten slapped for trying to stand up for Jacque. “Do you understand me? If you don’t win, that’s okay. The experience is more important than anything. This will be the closest you’ll get to actual warfare. Between professionals or soldiers in the making, not thugs and bandits. But if you win…”

He gave his squire another slap to the side of his helm. “Don’t let it get to your head.” Friderick warned with a smirk and then leaned up, eyeing the competition. Those bigger boys, some were a full head taller than Jacque, with longer arms. In a pragmatic sense, they should be the ones favored to win. But he had seen Jacque take out larger boys before, like when he bested Fabien. “If you need to piss, go now. Don’t piss your pants when you have to bow before the dais. No one will care though if you lose and piss your pants then though.” Friderick said with a shrug.
 
Jacqueline cringed as she watched Friderick open the letter. The news could hardly be good. She watched his face intently as he read it. Then read it again. Once more. All the while she was expecting his face to fall. The sad, stark understanding. The realization that she had never really cared for him. Hell, she barely ever remembered his name. Though what she would do when he fully grasped the concept she hadn’t a clue. It wasn’t like she could offer comfort. A friendly hug, someone to talk to. Men didn’t behave like that. Did men even comfort one another? Maybe a big tankard of ale or something. Maybe a fight? Quickly she was realizing none of that would be necessary. His face didn’t fall in defeat or sadness at the loss of his lady love. Instead he looked determined, more than ready for a fight. That was passing strange. Her head tilted at him in confusion as he turned and tossed the note into the fire. We train. Simple, short. What on earth did that note say? No time to ask, no place to ask. She hopped to and fetched the training swords.

It was a long four days waiting for the tournament to begin. Training every day with Friderick was a trial. Besides the exhaustion Jacqueline couldn’t comprehend how Friderick couldn’t know. The hope he held out for Aurainne. She wondered if his pressing in training might indicate that he knew. That he threw himself into training and work to forget the pain. She never dared broach the topic though. It wasn’t her business, at least he would certainly say it wasn’t her business. Why he was still so dedicated to a woman he barely seemed to know was beyond her. How could he be so blind? More over: why did she care? She tried not to of course. It wasn’t her problem. Yet she didn’t want to see that crushing let down. Worse, however, was the sickening simpering at the woman’s side.

Finally they rested. Jacqueline was tired and weary from mulling over Friderick in her head over and over again. Also from the strict training he was putting her through. She was plenty grateful to lay down early to sleep. Of course sleep was difficult to find that night. Never mind the rowdy drunkards in their camp she couldn’t stop thinking about Friderick. It was infuriating and frustrating. Of anything she wanted to make him proud in the tournament but also wanted him to leave well enough alone with Aurainne. Utter madness. It was long into the night before she managed to quiet her mind, around the same time the drunkards quieted down, and was able to sleep.

Confident and nervous at the same time. Jacqueline was ready for the fight but was a bundle of nervous energy. Had to do well. Had to prove herself. Most of the boys were bigger than her and a few were enormous. Not near as big as Friderick of course. As Friderick helped her armor up she kept bouncing on the balls of her feet, shifting her weight nervously. No one seemed to be around. The crowd was barely anything, a nobody on the dais. No surprise there. Plain ground fights were dull and they were just squires after all. There wasn’t even a purse. Friderick caught her attention and she looked up as he handed over the wood shield and blunted sword. For once she listened intently to his lecture, green eyes locked and focused on his blue gaze. Linger on the edge, let the others tire themselves out. She nodded sharply after every sentence. Don’t get tunnel vision. “Got it, got it,” she said as he put the helmet on and gave the side a gentle thwack. It rang like a broken bell.

“Don’t trust anyone…?” She questioned with a frown, leaning back to look up at Friderick with the helmet making it hard to see. She turned to look towards Abrhail and Brice. She wouldn’t consider them friends, not necessarily. Abrahil certainly not, one of Fabien’s prior lackeys, and Brice was a kind boy but they weren’t friends. Though she understood what Friderick meant well enough. Out there they weren’t part of the same troop of squires and knights. Out there they were enemies. Of course she would dearly love to ring Abrhail’s helmet good and hard. Friderick’s final comments brought a raised eyebrow that he likely couldn’t even see. “I’m seventeen…I haven’t wet myself in fourteen years,” she said with an exasperated sigh.

It was time. Jacqueline took a long, calming breath and walked into the sands with the other squires. She was easily the smallest one out there. Another slow breath. She looked around, sizing up her competition. Boys her age were stupid. They would want to hit hard, hit fast, and go after the biggest ones on the field. Their announcement was just a quick list of names. “Fight!” The Master of the Lists cried. Chaos erupted. The boys all rushed in with a mingling war cry. Jacqueline lingered back just as Friderick said to do. As she imagined they all rushed the biggest of them. All but a few other smaller squires. She recognized the colors Brice wore on the outer edges of the field, just like her. Another flash of color she knew. The exact ones Friderick had mentioned. “Brice look out!” She shouted. Though rather than turn to his attacker Brice turned to her. “No!” Too late. Abrhail’s swing caught Brice right across the helm. Brice went rigid and toppled over. Jacqueline cringed as Brice just crumpled, likely knocked out. Abrhail's helm awkwardly turned up and stared down the field, right at her. He'd heard the shout and more than likely recognized the tabard she wore.

While chaos reigned in the middle only a couple skirmishes took place on the outskirts of the arena. Abrhail stared down Jacqueline, standing over Brice's unconscious form. She listened to Friderick and waited. He would have to run to her, expend precious strength and energy to run across the field in thick sands. They stared one another down, clearly Abrhail was told something similar. Neither seemed keen on moving, pursuing the other. Jacqueline remained rigid, she knew her own strength and running across the sand in armor would be painfully detrimental.

With a loud, clanging ring her head vibrated painfully. She staggered forward and fell to a knee. Another resounding clash on her back. Her vision blurred and darkened as she knelt in the sand, hammering attacks on her back. So focused on Abrhail she hadn't seen someone coming up from behind. Distantly she could see Abrhail charging through the sands. He hadn't been watching her, he had been watching someone sneak up on her. Bastard. With a furious roar she turned and raised up her shield, blocking the blows from above. Her sword lashed out and swiped at the attacker's ankles. It didn't knocking him back but it smarted enough he stumbled back. Jacqueline pushed herself to her feet in time to block a hard lunging swing from Abrhail. His sword clanged off the wooden shield and Jacqueline returned the favor. They exchanged swings and blows, neither hitting anything but sword to shield. Then the other joined in. Suddenly Jacqueline was back and forth, defending against two opponents.

Their skirmish went on and on, her strength steadily waning. All she could manage was defense. Turning and whirling back and forth to avoid blows. Her steps carried her back and back until she collided with a wall. She cringed remembering Friderick's advice. Don't get pressed to a wall. The two were side by side hammering blows onto her shield which was starting to splinter from the violent abuse. In a final bid for victory she dove forward and rolled in the sand. The pair were left with their sword ringing off the wall they had pressed her too. Jacqueline scrambled to her feet and turned. She had forgotten her advantage: she was smaller and faster, even weighed down by armor. First she went after the sneak attacker. One swift hit to the back of his knees sent him down and another ringing hit off his helmet. She backed away from a swing from Abrhail but lunged in for another strike to the other's helm. "Yield! Yi-" The other yelled before double over with a horrid, wrenching, gagging noise. Vomit dripped from the small holes in his helm. He was quick to rip the thing off and toss it aside to continue vomiting.

Abrhail closed in, pressing the attack. Blows were exchanged, swords clanging off shield. His attacks were growing slower and slower. All the while her shield struggled to remain high enough. A wild swing caught her shoulder. Jacqueline yelped in pain and the shield fell. All she had to defend was her sword. Her left arm ringing and a little numb she tried to grasp her sword with both hands to defend once more. Yet his attacks still grew slower and slower, the arcs longer. She waited, despite the slow numbing of her hands, waited for an opening. His shield arm turned and she swung, the hard metal of the sword cracking into his elbow. Abrhail howled in the odd, stinging, pain and his shield fell. Jacqueline's attacks began. Her sword hammered away at him, more than half the hits landing on his armor. If not for the blunted blade she would have cut him down already. In his own final resort Abrhail took another wild swing. Jacqueline stepped back but the tip of the sword connected with her jaw. She gave her own howl of pain as the helm was half ripped off her head and the blunt blade opened up her jaw.

Jacqueline was quick to pull her helm the rest of the way off, her jaw just below her right ear laid open to the bone, blood running down her back. The pain made her dizzy but furious. Furious enough she forgot any proper sword play or manners. With a furious little yell she ran right at Abrhail and lunged. His surprise at the insanity of the little redhead caught him off guard and he was knocked down. With her ontop, straddling his waist, she brought her sword down on his helm. Over and over. "Stop! Stop! Yield! Yield!" He yelled as a dent formed in his helm. With a huffing groan Jacqueline rolled off and lay a moment in the sand. Already tired as hell and bleeding, her helm somewhere in the sand. Distantly she was aware of Abrhail being carted off the field, the music of scorn in her ear as he was berated for losing. It wasn't over yet. She pushed herself back up, gingerly touching the seeping wound on her jaw. It would probably need some stitching. Her attentions turned back to the chaos of the center. Not so much chaos any longer. Only six remained, all of which were still enaged in a slow kind of brawl. Their strengths waning. Only one of them, the biggest lad of the bunch, seemed to be swinging with any force still.
 
“Yes and I’m sure men twice your age have thought the same thing, until they’ve been stuck in their armour for hours and have nowhere else to go. Go on, pull out your little red cock and have a piss. See how easy it’ll be when your arms are sore and your armour doesn’t want to come off.” Friderick chided the boy. Humility, why couldn’t the boy just understand it? Jacque treated everything like it tired him, like some spoiled King or Princeling that cared for nothing. Just wait and see, that’s all it was. At least if the boy accepted his advice and did end up pissing himself, it would be less embarrassing. “Good luck, lad. Remember my advice. Keep your shield up and watch your back.” He concluded and sent the boy off onto the sands with another light clonk to the back of his helm.

Then Friderick went to go get a drink and wait for the ensuing shit show to begin.

The command was soon given and all hell broke loose as usual, everyone rushed to the centre and thus at one another. He grinned though when he saw Jacque hanging up and ignoring the centre, he eyed down the other smart lads who might give his squire some trouble. Determined, focused, none looked as if they didn’t know what they were doing. Of course there was a coward or two, shaking limbs and all, forced into the competition by their knights as a way to bloody them early. Friderick only frowned though when Abrhail, a squire from their group, took advantage of the chaos to eliminate another squire from their group, the boy Brice. His knight, Ser Anchetil, slapped his face, while Abrhail’s knight Ser Hilduin let out a laugh, followed by an apologetic smile to his companion.

“Your ginger’s a smart one, Friddy.” Ser Hilduin chuckled. “Or he’s scared shitless into his boots. Either way he’s going down.”

“Well I’m cheering for the ginger now too.” Ser Anchetil said. “Your squire’s a snaky one isn’t he.”

“You do whatever is necessary for the win.” Ser Hilduin said.

Friderick said nothing. He felt neither the need to speak or defend Jacque. The boy could do it himself, though he wasn’t paying much attention. He did feel the urge though, to want to cheer and shout encouragement, to coach the boy through every step and swing of his sword. If the boy would listen. Guard your flanks he said. And then Jacque took a hit from behind, and then another, and Friderick flushed red with indignation, even as Ser Hilduin and Ser Anchetil, despite his support for Jacque, both broke out in laughter. No one actually cared about the boasting rights if their squire won. They all just liked seeing these little shits they had to take care of knock the crap out of each other. I told the idiot Friderick huffed to himself.

“Smart, your squire.” Ser Anchetil said to Ser Hilduin. “Could have warned the ginger. He didn’t.”

“Exactly. Stop to help another and all you do is add yourself to the same grave.” Ser Hilduin nodded.

“It isn’t all like that.” Friderick said quietly. It didn’t look good for Jacque. He was taking a beating but managed to lash back. Little by little, the squire fought for every inch of space and even looked to be gaining ground, until a third attacker came in, thinking he could ambush two distracted fighters. It turned into a three way duel. “Your boy’s losing it. Tired already.” Ser Hilduin noted but Friderick was unsure. Jacque wasn’t attacking. Was he actually…listening? Dear God, the boy just might be! And because of that, the squire was starting to indeed take ground against his attackers.

“Well that isn’t fair, two on one. They are clearly cooperating.” Ser Anchetil then added.

“That could have been our boys, but yours went off on some other tangent.” Ser Hilduin pointed out with a smirk. No, his squire was too devious for that.

But a roar of cheering cut off any further discussion. If one blinked, they missed it. But Jacque suddenly took an initiative, using her smaller size to get behind her two attackers. One went down swiftly, Abrhail took a bit longer. They exchanged blows just as Friderick and Ser Hilduin exchanged a look, each one hoping their lad would come out on top. All Friderick could focus on was Jacque keeping his guard up, which he did, effectively neutralizing most of Abrhail’s blows. The boy wasn’t smart enough to try a new tactic, wasting himself away on that guard. Eventually he couldn’t keep up and Jacque moved for the kill. But too soon. Abrhail managed a lucky strike that caught Jacque on the jaw and the entire crowd knee-jerked in unison, including Friderick. The boy was staggering! Friderick could almost taste the defeat for Jacque. Abrhail just had to finish him off…

Until Jacque proved decisive yet again and charged headlong despite his disorientation, not allowing his tired opponent to exploit his lucky hit. He landed right atop of Abrhail and began to hammer away. Ser Hilduin’s expression dropped and Friderick couldn’t help but grin and even give a little shake of his closed fist in pride. Eventually some clerics rushed in soon after to check on Abrhail, who could be heard yielding right across the entire arena. Ser Hilduin went after them, not very kind words to say. Ser Anchetil on the other hand patted Brice on the back for his efforts.

Over two-thirds of all competitors had been taken out, two personally by Jacque. Those were good numbers for a rookie but some of the remaining boys were clearly not amateurs. Friderick could tell just on their footwork alone. Two pairs were caught up in their own duel, exchanging blows, not much unlike a pair of professional killers. The remaining two seemed to have finished off their own respective opponents, same as Jacque, and the two of them eyed each other as well as the redhead. They were all tired though. This is where technique gave out to simple brute force, hammering and hacking away, until one was pounded into submission. Jacque was barely the largest, not even in the middle of the bunch. But he had done well enough for himself.

Wait, just wait he wanted to urge Jacque but one of the free competitors, sizing up the other and Jacque, decided the redhead would be easier of the pair and began to approach. Shield high, sword covered behind it, so his first strike would be swift and cunning like a snake from tall grass. He advanced swiftly on Jacque, not giving the boy any space to breathe or compose. But instead he paused only a few feet away, digging the toe of his boot into the sand, to kick up a spray of sand right at Jacque. “What’s the matter, short pants? You look like you wear skirts. Just love to hitch it right up for your hoary old lovers don’t you?” He mocked Jacque, keeping out of sword reach, but mocking the boy and trying to goad him into attacker. “Your father’s a coward, your mother’s a whore, your brothers are catamites and your sisters are going to suck my cock after this.” He chuckled at Jacque.

He circled around Jacque, until he got the redhead’s back where he wanted, where another competitor dispatched another fighter and turned to them. The boy spitting the insults gave a fake charge, but laughed and backed off, as a third fighter rushed her from behind with his shield and tackled her hard. But he only thrust her aside. “Move the fuck away, gingerbread.” The third one sneered, going right for the other boy instead.

Enough to distract her from a fourth fighter who came behind with his blunted blade and whipped it under Jacque’s jaw from behind, proceeding to choke and flail the smaller boy around, and choke him into disorientation. He had a strong grip on Jacque. He could barely be hit back except grazing blows on his side. But Friderick was standing right in Jacque’s field of vision as this fourth fighter tried to choke her out. Friderick frowned and knew he couldn’t say anything, so he demonstrated it. No one was watching him. He simply kicked backwards with his right leg. For no reason. A serious expression and nothing more. Bent his knee and brought the back of his boot upwards to the back of his own thigh as much as he could. If Jacque did the same, he would hit her choker right in the balls…
 
Jacqueline barely had a moment of respite. Her jaw ached fiercely, she was thirsty as hell, her body was sore and exhausted. It was exhilarating! Just a couple other boys left. Maybe she could really do this! Dispatching Abrhail and the other lad had been a trial. The others must be just as tired and winded. Mostly anyways. Some of those lads were massive and seemed to have boundless energy as they hacked and slashed their way to victory. Their opponents defeated she noted a pair that looked her direction. At least she assume so, the eye slits of their helms point her way at any rate. Just a second she glanced back over her shoulder. No, no opponents behind. She wouldn't be fooled by a stare down again.

One decided to approach, tucking his sword behind his shield as if he were hiding it. Her eye narrowed, perfectly content to let him approach. Careful, very careful. She didn't see his toe dig into the sand. The spray caught her full in the face. With a growl of surprise and pain she staggered back, eyes stinging and watering, squeezed shut. A slew of insults came her way as she wiped the sand from her eyes, forcing herself to blink. Her vision was blurred from the welling tears of pain. Certainly not tears from his pathetic insults. Like she would be goaded by such simple, blanketed words. The boy was trying to get her flank but, idiot he was, couldn't stop jeering. Despite her vision being blurred she could have been blind and knew where the loathsome moron was. She turned to see him give a charge, raising up the damaged shield. Her head canted in confusion as he backed down from the charge with an idiotic donkey laugh.

She heard the crunching in the sand but was taken by surprise as a shoulder slammed into her side, bodily bowling her over. Though rather than a full tackle the boy had just knocked her aside, determined to strike the other for his opponent, shouting a sneering remark. What was with these boys and their inane insults? Jacqueline moved to her to her feet once more when something pressed against her back and cold steel came under her chin. She gagged right before her air was completely cut off. A strange and stupid move given they had blunted weapons. Even still she was perfectly aware she would be less a throat if the sword were actually bladed. Instead whoever was behind her was going to try and choke her. Strangely though she didn't wriggle in fear of panic even as her face began to purple. There was something...not entirely unpleasant about it. Certainly nothing to be terrified of and wriggle around like a worm. She grabbed her sword near backwards to swing and try to dislodge the opponent.

Across the field she could see Friderick. A minute or so more and she'd pass out. A shame to disappoint him. Then she noted the odd, sharp movement he made. Her eyes widened even as they edges of her vision were starting to darken. Why didn't she think of that? She reeled her leg as much as possible without making it too obvious and mule kicked back and up. The main force hit the attacker's thigh but her heel slipped and slammed right into her attacker's balls and cock, veritably crushing the family jewels. Behind her she heard a long, low groaning sort of whistle. All around she head the collective gasp and groan of every man in attendance. The sword released some and she was able to wriggle herself away. The boy was distracted by the obvious pain he was in. Rather than even hit him she yanked his sword from his hands and knocked him down. He lay there, clutching between his legs with the same high whistling noise. Unable to speak for himself clerics and his knight came forth to collect him.

She had another moment to rest as the other two hammered away at one another. Her eyes remained locked on them but she leaned over, a hand on her thigh, and took the moment to catch her breath. Three left and two of those three were occupied in hitting each-other while she got to rest. This was ideal! Maybe she would actually win this insanity. Briefly she glanced to where Friderick was seated, easy to pick out in the groups given his size. She wanted, desperately, to make his proud.

Finally one was knocked to the ground. He received a sound beating while down, struggling to get to his feet as the other rang his helm like a bell. Fool wouldn't give up and fought until he stopped moving. Cleric rushed out again. Just unconscious. The victor was the one that had bowled her over. The largest lad in the bunch. No wonder such an ox had made it so far. She stared him down as he turned to face her. A tale as old as time. Money would be on the giant but it was always the smaller one that was the victor in those tales. Jacqueline gripped her sword tightly. As it would be in this tale. This time she didn't listen to Friderick. She wanted to hit the ox before he had a chance to recover. Mustering her energy she ran forward through the sand. The lad turned as readied his shield, pulling his sword back for a swing.

Jacqueline was smarter than that. She knew better than to take him head on. Rushing right into reach she dropped to the side as he swung, darting around behind him. With the force he put into the swing he couldn't turn in time. With another hard mule kick she kick the lad's knee. She didn't have the force to break the join but had enough to make it buckle and force him down. Turning she swung her sword hard and rung the boy's helm like a bell. The deep growl from within the helm told her that wasn't one of her better ideas. He turned and, quicker than she expected from his size, grabbed her sword. His meaty fist closing around the blunt blade he yanked it right out of her hand. Suddenly she found herself weaponless.

The brute rose to his feet with a grunt, his knee clearly bruised. "That was stupid," he growled from within the helm. His sword raised and he swung. She blocked with her shield but her arm went numb from the force, the wooden shield cracking and singing from the blow. Jacqueline cringed and backed up as the boy advance. He raised his sword for another blow. Despite his speed earlier he really reeled back for his sword swings. Trying to push as much power into them as possible. A plan clicked. Another singing blow to her shield. That time it broke in half, dangling limply on her arm. She tossed the wood away as he drew back again. Unencumbered by weapon or shield Jacqueline took another dive, right between his legs. With a tumbling roll she was on her back and reeled her legs into her chest. Another hard kick to his good knee. The lad grunted as his legs buckled under him.

Jacqueline took the chance. Weaponless she had little other option. She launched herself onto the lad's back and wrapped an arm around his neck. As another had done to her she cut off his air. The lad shook and flailed like an angry bull. He swung his arms to try and knock her off but she clung on tighter than creeping vine to a tree. The lad's movement began to slow. Beneath his helm his face turned a handsome shade of purple. Slower and slower until he collapsed forward. Jacqueline pushed off and stood. The boy was unconscious. It would be brief but enough. For a moment silence over took the small crowd. No one expected anything from such a tiny ginger, let alone victory. Then the small crowd of onlookers erupted into applause. Not so thunderous as a joust but it brought a beaming smile to her face. "The winner! Jacque of Lancaster, Esquire of the Baron: Friderick of Alnerwick!" The master of the list announced. Friderick was waved forward to accept as much accolades as his protege. They were paraded before the dais for praise and recognition. For a mere squire it was enough. Jacqueline couldn't stop grinning. Shame Friderick was still blithely unaware of who and what she really was. That victory might give him pause from the lady featherhead. Jacqueline was near drunk on pride of victory, fully ignoring the still bleeding wound on her jaw.
 
When Jacque caught on to what Friderick was implying, and even did it, the weathered Baron couldn’t help but lean his head back and let out a chuckle. Tactic never fails to work. It worked on most men, except eunuchs, and while there was an unspoken rule about the unfairness of such a thing, there wasn’t actually a rule forbidding it. The entire crowd went oooh! and groaned as they saw the squire strike the other boy in his jewels, some of them even cringing as they felt a sensation in their own lower guts. Jacque broke free and didn’t even need to finish his opponent off. Everyone knew he was out.

Good. The boy was resting now. He did the smart move. Let the others fight it out. No, don’t bend over! Stand straight! Widen your shoulders, expand your lungs, breathe in more…! But he couldn’t say anything. The boy looked at him, as if sensing that Friderick wanted to say something back. All the knight did was given another wordless signal, looking at the ground between his boots, then back at Jacque. Hold your ground!

Not enough time though, by his reckoning. The other duel ended and now it was one on one. By all accounts this was predicted and anticipated. In a contest lacking in skill, usually the biggest and most brutal would survive by sheer strength. And now that particular goon was face to face with a little boy who looked half a girl. Even when he bent over to breathe the boy’s butt was…curved, like a skilled whore or something.

Well if the boy wins to the end, Friderick decided he ought to become a man too in the same day. A whore it shall be.

Or maybe not. Jacque rushed at the other boy, twice as large. One had to admire his bravery. Or maybe his desire to end himself quick before it got painful. Jacque was rested though. The other boy was not, having had an equal contest with a boy almost similar in stature. He wasn’t used to that. But Jacque was used to fighting larger opponents, or sparring against them, like Friderick. He had to mentally chide himself for being a little arrogant then. He should have taught Jacque how to overcome larger opponents, though that would have made his attempts to train and drill him far more difficult if he knew how to counter Friderick. But now the boy might have to suffer for this lack of education. No one liked being second. It was the same as being last. Perhaps even worse.

It ended terribly. The older boy simply wrenched the blade from Jacque and the entire crowd even snickered at how helpless the squire now looked. The first blow on his shield echoed in the arena and all heard the cracking. It would soon be over and Friderick, feeling the throbbing ache of disappointment and failure, ran a hand down his face and covered his mouth as he watched. He didn’t want to. No one wanted to see their squire about to be beaten into a pulp but he did not look away. He had to honour Jacque’s determination despite his impending loss. He felt ashamed that his squire would fall short of total victory. Shouldn’t he be proud that his squire made it that far though on his first try?

“Wait.” Someone suddenly said and soon all those around Friderick, the Baron included, was watching very intently. Then everyone began to see it, even as it unfolded. The larger boy had everything. Size. Weapons. Reach. And weight. Weight most of all. Jacque had the opposite of that. And he used it.

Everyone was speechless when Jacque went between the boy’s legs. And then all got on their feet when Jacque was on the boy’s back. “Congratulations.” Some began to say to Friderick, before it was even over, as Jacque choked out the older boy and he collapsed, like a hewn tree, a puff of dust as he hit the ground. Then the announcement was made and the spell was broken. People cheered. Friderick found himself walking forward, a large smile on his face for Jacque. The boy’s was even larger. He went right up to Jacque with a laugh and clonked him again on the side of his helm, before drawing the slender youth into a tight embrace. “You did exceptionally well, little lord Lancaster. I’m very proud. But don’t let this get to your head.” He praised, and warned, the boy to his ear, their bodies molding in what should have been nothing more than a brotherly embrace. Right?

A bell was ringing. People were applauding, applauding her. They didn’t know it was a her under there but they cheered for Jacque Lancaster regardless. A good show. A great show! People thronged to congratulate Jacque, patting him on the shoulder or on the back, praising his skill and quick thinking. But Friderick kept his own firm grip and led Jacque right to the front, where the Master of the Lists stood. Together they would kneel, though Friderick nudged Jacque forward a bit since this was his moment, and the rest of the onlookers crowded behind.

“Esquire Jacque of Lancaster, you have prevailed in the Squire’s Melee Tournament as its prime champion, overcoming twenty-nine other challengers in a feat of strength and skill.” The crowd roared its approval. Well, it was not as loud or vigorous as it might be for a jousting tourney victory but it was something. The Master of the Lists turned and received from a cleric an iron crown, simple, with little swords at the four cardinal points. “With this, it shall symbolize to all your chivalry and feats of valour. Wear it proudly, Esquire Jacque of Lancaster.” It was set upon Jacque’s brow and again there was another cheer and applause. It was not a true tournament reward, that would come later at the end of all the games and tournaments, but while he was in this castle, that crown held great honour and distinction.

They were free to go after that. There were more than enough women offering their personal napkins and favours to the young lad. Friderick, as guardian, accepted one randomly on Jacque’s behalf and simply threw it without a glance to the boy’s face. “Clean yourself up. And smile for your admirers.” He told Jacque and even made the boy look at some peasant maidens who were eyeing him up and down.

Speaking of which…

“I’m very impressed. Well, kind of.” Friderick said as he and Jacque walked away from the tourney grounds. “You did some idiot things. You also demonstrated quick thinking on your feet. Personally I put it down to beginner’s luck. A veteran fighter would have clobbered you but those boys think muscles are good substitutes for a brain. You don’t think that though, do you lad?” It was hard to deny that Jacque seemed naturally gifted for it but by God, Friderick was going to deny it. He didn’t need the boy’s head to get puffed up. He had enough arrogant problems as it was. But today, today he deserved a treat.

“There is still room for improvement though. Lots of it. But we can wait on that. There are other things we need to catch up on. I didn’t expect something like this for at least another year so now we are very much behind schedule.” Friderick explained to Jacque. “Your father commissioned me to train and raise you as a knight. He also wished me to make a man of you. It doesn’t make a very good man though, someone who has shed blood and achieved such a feat, without even knowing what they are fighting for. Death is so cold and final. You need to experience life, with all its colour and warmth.” Friderick said, before pausing outside one of many buildings inside the castle town of Archensheen. “Ah, this seems suitable enough.”

Inside came the sounds of…depravity. Women mostly, laughing, talking, calling out to passerbys in the streets…moaning. Men grinned and jockeyed to win their attentions. Other women stood on higher balconies, half exposed, eyeing them down. Well, they mostly eyed Friderick down but today would be for Jacque. Besides, Friderick didn’t partake. Well, not anymore. But all should try it once. And whatever lucky noblewoman got Jacque as a husband ought be blessed with an expert lover one would hope. In any case, once any boy got in the saddle, it would change them. Jacque needed to know now. He turned to the boy to gauge his expression. This ought to be exciting for any teenager youth right?

“And why do you look more scared than you did entering the arena?” Friderick suddenly asked, given the boy’s expression to the brothel they stood outside. It looked clean, high class, and customers paid up front in silver. And wasn’t that a Count who just walked in? No one would judge them for this. So why the worry?
 
Jacqueline had barely recovered her feet and caught her breath before folk began storming the field. She reached up to removed her helm at least to breathe better when she saw Friderick, shoulders above the crowd and easy to spot, taking long strides across the sands. Only a few before he was well ahead of the pack and a few more before he could reach out and give her helm another thunk all while laughing. Jacqueline grinned at the gesture, lost below the metal, but froze as she was suddenly yanked forward. She stiffened a moment, blinking at the sudden coils of steel wrapping up her slender body. She blinked and, at the same time, wished she wasn’t wearing her armor yet was glad for it. Jacqueline shivered some enjoying it just a bit more than she should have been. Quite a lot more actually. After a moment she relaxed and returned the embrace. For all eyes it was brotherly, the mentor beyond proud of his protégé. Jacqueline felt her ears warm. She had to stop that but, for the moment, she could enjoy it. No harm in it. Right?

When she was released by Friderick the rest of the throng crowded in. Suddenly surrounded by applause and congratulatory pats on back and shoulders. In the sudden press of bodies she managed to get her helm off, her face still red but could easily be attributed to the fighting. She couldn’t stop grinning, her face felt fit to split. Her chest swelling with happiness and pride with her victory. Even better the words Friderick had said. He was proud of her. Nothing was better than that. Perhaps the hug but nothing else. With all the thwacks and claps, folk shouting accolades and pressing in she felt Friderick still here, a hand on her so as not to get lost in the throng. Everything was happening so quickly, A whirl of congratulations, but they had other places to be. Friderick ushered them through the crowd, easily parted by his size, to the Master of the Lists and his cleric cohort. Jacqueline scooted forward with Friderick’s nudge and knelt in the sand.

Still she was grinning as they knelt and the man spoke, the crowd roaring its approval behind. Smaller than the joust or not it was amazing to hear the cheers. She glanced up as the master of the Lists turned and took the iron crown from the cleric. It was a little large for such a little thing as her, sitting on her brow almost more like a coronet than a proper crown, folding her ears down. She hadn’t expected anything for winning but some cheers and maybe some praise from Friderick. Well she had hoped for praise. Certainly got it and more. She would treasure the crown, her first victory. Her legs struggled some to obey as they stood back up to leave the grounds.

Of course, as they walked, women thronged forward. Jacqueline cringed a little as handkerchiefs and scarves were waved in her direction. Women! Jacqueline walked a little closer to Friderick as if she needed protection from the clawed and fanged lot. Her head jerked back as one bit of floral scented cloth was tossed into her face. She ripped it off and pressed it to the bloody cut on her jaw. She managed an awkward grin at the throng of women, giving a small wave. Awwws and coos followed. “He’s so shy!” She heard one cry out followed by a wave of titters. Jacqueline fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Her head tilted up as Friderick spoke. She couldn’t help a small snort. Of course he had critiques and passed off her win as sheer luck. He certainly wouldn’t be him without a quip and possibly an insult thrown in. She was just surprised he didn’t have a lecture prepared. “Muscles certainly help,” she replied with a small laugh. “But they aren’t a substitute,” she agreed. Speaking of muscles hers were nearly screaming. Sit, rest, eat and drink. Get out of the heavy armor. That was all she really wanted but Friderick started walking them through the castle town. She thought to ask where they were going but Friderick launched back into chatting. Ah, there was the lecture. Though she didn’t exactly understand what he was trying to get at. Her eyebrows quirked with confusion up at the knight as he talked about becoming a man, death was final and cold. Experience the color and warmth of life. She hadn’t a clue what he was trying to say.

It was the sound first that she noticed when they stopped, her green eyes focused solely on Friderick. “What the…?” She turned and looked up at the building. Her jaw fell open and the one woman’s handkerchief fell from her grasp. Green eyes went wide making the vibrant irises tiny green dots in a sea of white. Why were they at a brothel? A den of ill repute! It all clicked in her head, hard and fast enough she jerked back. “Scared! Scared of course I’m not scared!” Utter lies of course. Though she realized that a boy her age should be beyond excited to go to such an establishment. Hard on the heels of that thought was a touch of anger. Why could men do such things and not women? Distracted enough by that thought alone she was ushered inside.

“Ohhhh the young champion,” a lean older woman, dressed in finery with a powdered face, cooed at the pair as they walked in. Jacqueline’s head whipped around. Need an escape. These women were hardly dressed! The Madame’s fingers brushed lightly across one of the points of the iron crown. “Oh I have just the girl, she will take very good care of you young man,” she purred. Her hands, talons more like, grasped a strap on Jacqueline’s armor and led her forward. Had to escape! Jacqueline looked back at Friderick, her face pleading rescue. Of course she wasn’t likely to find any with him. He was the one who brought her there! No, no, no, no!

She was marched to a room. The Madame didn’t even bother knocking, throwing wide the door. It was a room the likes of which Jacqueline had never seen before. Every surface somehow seemed plush and exquisite. Dark woods and red drapery made for inviting décor and it smelled of rose water and sandalwood. While Jacqueline would admit it was a very nice room she very much didn’t want to be there. “Don’t fret so much little lord, you will not be disappointed,” the Madame cooed as she ushered Jacqueline inside and closed the door. Trapped. If she went rushing out Friderick would know something was amiss. If whoever was in the room was as commanding as the Madame Jacqueline was sure to be outed. Friderick would be summoned and she would be shipped back home. Possibly a flogging somewhere in there too. Her heart thrummed a panicked rhythm against her chest. Perhaps she could talk her way out. Brothels couldn’t be a host of particularly wise or smart women, right?
 
Surprisingly, despite the blatant lie that came from Jacque’s lips, Friderick couldn’t help but burst into a fit of chuckles himself. Never more did he sound like a boy barely off his mother’s tit than he did now. He was so shy indeed! But he was not anger that Jacque was terrified of the prospect within. He reached out to set his large hand on the boy’s shoulder once more, giving him a reassuring shake. “You don’t need to look so worried. I was the exact same way, my first time. Battle is easier than doing this the first time. But I’ve seen you, riding a horse, swinging a sword, holding your own in combat. You’ll do fine. Just watch that temper of yours inside. You won’t be the first person to baulk at the prospect and the girl will only try to comfort you. Let her help.”

Clearly Jacque was already known within. If anyone was making profits from the tournament, it was certainly these women and workers of the night. There was no shortage of men walking bow legged after a session with them. All tastes were catered too and naturally there being an elite and high browed clientele, there was equally an establishment of repute to meet their standards. There was no sign but one could tell from the traffic of persons and those loitering about what this place was. Friderick himself paid the fee, upfront, with silver. “He’s a first timer, miss. Do be easy on him.” He simply told the Madame. But when questioned about himself, he only refused and took a seat, with some suspicion of its quality, in the lobby. He accepted wine of course and did his best to ignore the wide-eyed seductive looks the women gave him.

It didn’t take long for there to be a gentle knock on the door to Jacque’s room. “M’Lord?” There was no stopping her, the handle already turning even as she made her request. It opened and in came a nubile and comely lass, perhaps only a few ages older than Jacqueline, with fine blonde curls and perfume befit a Queen. She was modestly dressed, with some jewelry, and she even performed a curtsey that would please a governess. “Serlena, if it pleases you, m’Lord.” She said, standing up with a smile that could light up a room. She had a very expressive face, slender limbed and yet robust. She was even a few inches taller than Jacqueline.

But her eyes were those of someone far more wearied to the world. Perhaps more so than Friderick. Her demeanor was every bit deferring and attentive. Yet her eyes knew something…more. She was a very good actress.

It began to fall apart immediately. She looked at Jacque very intently, longer than was polite, as if her previous gestures of obedience hadn’t even happened. Serlena knew eyes. She knew it better than the charms her customers boasted that they had. Body types she could forget, being but skin stretched or tight. Stench was all the same. Their sounds but animal sounds, all alike and indiscernible of any higher intelligence. But eyes told all. They spoke emotion, whether it was lust, happiness, sadness, or even…fear. This one was afraid. And Serlena had a pretty good idea, though no solid conclusion, as to why.

Well, it wasn’t as if she dabbled in that sort of service either. But something struck her as this one not being like those.

“M’Lord has had a long day. Perhaps he needs assistance with removing his armour?” She said, her tone having lost some of its bubbliness already, as if she was now investigating. One got little variety in her line of work unfortunately so this became something of great curiosity to Serlena. “Wine, m’Lord?” She asked, moving to pour some that had been provided. There was of course very good vintage wine hidden in the room, which was brought out for well-liked customers or those with extra coin. Not the swill that sat on the table, which Serlena poured. It would meet some preliminary points with its experimentation though and she brought a cup of the red wine to Jacque. Once the boy took it, Serlena moved to begin helping with undoing Jacque’s armour.

She noted the person’s eyes especially. She was used to men being unable to keep their eyes off of her. So ones of disinterest were especially noticed to her. It was all in the eyes. Serlena might as well be looking in the mirror.

“M’Lord fought bravely today, I heard. Against such tall, ferocious boys.” Serlena questioned, trying to provoke some conversation.
 
Too late. Jacqueline whirled around to the sound of a soft knock and a gentle call. Her heart missed several beats as the door opened without response. The woman that walked in was...well not entirely what Jacqueline expected. At first glance she looked every bit a gentle little thing with soft curls and a sweet face. A woman perhaps only a couple years senior to Jacqueline herself, not very experienced in the ways of the world. Yet as their eyes met Jacqueline saw a different woman all together. Keen, intelligent and so weary of it all. For some reason she was instantly put in the mind of Friderick. Tired and weary of everything but still so inquisitive and aware. Not away enough in Friderick's case which was quite the blessing. Jacqueline swallowed hard as she recognized one more thing. Inquiry.

"Remove my...oh...oh yes, I mean no! No no I think...this is fine," Jacqueline stammered as the woman moved about the room. Right to a table with wine set and ready. Friderick's words range back into her head. Watch her temper. Well she wasn't about to get mad at the woman for happening to be there when Friderick decided this was a good reward for victory. This was not a good reward. She would rather be flogged. "Ah...yes I...thank you," she stammered as she accepted the wine. She had to calm down, talk her way out of things. Perhaps the young woman might just prefer a nice chat. No, she was quick to go after the straps on the armor. Jacqueline froze. What to do? Don't swat her away.

Jacqueline opened her mouth to protest, to say she could get out of her own armor just fine. Yet the woman tried again to chat. Perhaps that was all. Just chat, calm down, be comfortable. "Oh, yes...it wasn't much really. Common tale really, the small besting the large. David and Goliath," she said with a forced, awkward laugh as Serlena removed the armor with a deft touch. Jacqueline cringed as her touch came to close and superstitiously moved to avoid any untoward fingers. She hadn't dared take a drink yet, simply held the glass out of the way. Though she did have to admit she felt worlds better with the armor off despite her tunic and leggings still dusty, sandy, and sweaty. The moment it was all off Jacqueline moved away from Serlena, careful not to look into her eyes again.

"Here, please, allow me," she said and poured a glass for the woman. Be polite at least. She put the table between the two of them, leaving the cup for Serlena at the far edge. "Listen my...ah..." She hesitated, remembering the raucous laughter when she had called the bar wench "my lady." "Serlena...miss...I understand why my lord Friderick has made these...ahm...choices but I might prefer if...perhaps we just talked. Or...you could have a lie down if you like...You know only fair for...marriage and all...Hardly right you know." Partial reasoning, partial begging, all stammering nonsense. She rubbed a hand down her face with a small groan. An absolutely splendid job of retraining her secret. Still she was careful not to look at Serlena, keeping her eyes focused on the rugs and floorboards. If it weren't for the fact that Friderick expected her to be pleased upon her return she would love to whack him upside his great, thick head.
 
There had been few cases where customers had not been…enthusiastic. Often young men, barely into manhood, forced to learn or indulge the sexual act by friends or family who wished to mature them before their years. Serlena was not a stranger to those types. There were some clients who needed their fixes, others who preferred to get it naturally and she didn’t blame them. But just a few simple moments with this…man was giving her a vibe like no other. With how light his voice was, Serlena knew this particular individual could scarcely even be called a man!

“Not enough of those, if you ask me, m’lord.” Serlena commented on the response to fighting the bigger boys. She smiled politely when Lord Lancaster laughed, sounding forced. The boy was too nervous. There was wine in his grip for that boost of confidence yet he hadn’t even drank any. Slowly the armour came off, revealing a slender physique, but more than just the outline of the Lord’s body. No, something wasn’t adding up. “Oh, well thank you, m’lord. It’s not necessary. It’s my job after all to pour the wine. It’s what I’m paid for, among other things.” Serlena responded, though she still offered her cup. “And I have been paid for, after all.” She winked.

She drank and listened attentively when the boy began to stammer. Indeed it seemed like it would be that case, a client forced to do this by another, to learn and experience the thrills of the act. Serlena kept her face controlled and polite, not giving any hint of derision or acceptance. Just talk. Yes, wouldn’t we all loved to be paid just to listen to others.

“You’re a sweet child, m’lord. It’s not often someone wants to talk to poor ole me. But truly, there is nothing to be scared of. You might find you enjoy the intimacy more than you think. Perhaps we might lie down together?” She posed back, her tone and voice much more confident and bold, despite being no more than a commoner and lowborn prostitute. She moved to sit on a nearby couch, bringing one leg over the other, with her gown riding up a little so that much of her thighs were visible. Serlena however watched the young Lord’s face. Did he even want to look? Serlena definitely had nice, toned legs. What man could resist that? Apparently this boy could.

She beckoned the Lord to join her still. “Are you married then, m’Lord? I do not see a ring upon your finger. If you are not, then there is nothing wrong with this. And if it’s not wrong, it must surely be right, no?” Serlena said, smiling knowingly, before raising her cup and drinking deeply. “Your Lord Friderick must be a generous one though. It’s not polite to turn down a well-intended gift, but perhaps he misunderstood. Maybe you prefer someone more…masculine to the touch? We have catamites here, men of fine stock and breed, I can assure you. Perhaps I can fetch one for you, no extra charge.” Serlena then offered, either hitting the problem on the mark or proving that this boy didn’t have a persuasion towards his own gender, which would only confirm Serlena’s other suspicion.

The awkward glances, the physique, the eyes, even the sound of the groan and the smell. Serlena knew masculine odours and musk. It was her job to understand such things. And none of the pieces were clicking into place with this one. She decided to go for the jugular. “But maybe not. Boys can be such narrow-minded, thinking they are always right about things. You surely understand and know it well, doing what you do. I mean…why else would you be going about dressed as one…m’lady?” Serlena smirked, raising her cup to drink again, eyes watchful over the rim of the cup as she watched the young suspected Lady after her last remark.
 
She had been paid for. For some reason that struck Jacqueline oddly. A sort of hot twinge in her guts. Humans shouldn't be bought and sold like livestock. Yet this Serlena didn't seem in any kind of misery despite the fact she spoke as though she were cattle. Cattle to be bought by men. She watched Serlena as she stood there, calling her sweet and telling her there was nothing to be scared of. Oh that's where she was wrong. There was plenty to be scared of. She cringed at the off to lie down together and shook her head. The woman was certainly persistent. Then again she had be purchased to be persistent, right? She spoke so calm, so confident. Like this was some sort of game being played. Though Jacqueline hadn't been informed of the rules. All she knew was she had to keep her secret from the woman.

Jacqueline's green eyes followed the blond as she moved to sit on a very comfortable looking couch. Her eyes averted when Serlena's legs crossed, revealing an expanse of flesh. Well perhaps if she were a man this would be very enticing. She beckoned for her to sit on the couch as well but Jacqueline remained staunchly at the table. Letting her take off the armor had been close enough and Jacqueline wasn't about to let the woman get close again. She seemed far more clever than Jacqueline had originally given a woman of her profession credit for. Still she persisted. Jacqueline glanced at her hand. "No, I am not married," she grumbled back, clutching the wine glass as if it were some holy talisman to keep a demon at bay. She jerked some at the mention of Friderick. Oh a generous gift indeed! This was worse torture than any sparring session with him or being beat by the boys of the camp!

Yet in the same breath Serlena brought up a different offer. Catamites. Jacqueline had never heard the term but she grasped the concept as Serlena spoke of them. Well she certainly would prefer a masculine touch, Friderick being in the same breath as the Catamites didn't help the picture. No in fact it sent a fiery heat through her face making her ears blaze. Not the time! Definitely not the time. "No I...I would not prefer that either..." she grumbled back at the woman. Why would she just not give up? Of course, she was paid to do so. Why wouldn't the woman just take the hint and leave? It wasn't like she wouldn't get her money and she wouldn't have to do anything. Just sit quietly elsewhere so Friderick wouldn't get suspicious that his squire was only with the woman for a few minutes.

Jacqueline couldn't stop an amused snort. Men did think they knew everything. Hence Friderick's constant lectures. M'lady. Everything in Jacqueline's brain came to a screaming halt. Her hands suddenly clutched the glass so hard it popped right up into the air, sprayed wine everywhere, and came down to shatter on the floor. Jacqueline finally stared at Serlena but not with the interest and lust she had been trying to provoke. No, rather it was in shock and pure horror. "No!" She suddenly squeaked but stopped and cleared her throat. "No that's...that's ridiculous," she said with an attempt at a lower voice. She cringed. That wasn't going to work.

Finally Jacqueline came out from behind the table and right to the couch. What should she do? Beg? Threaten? Bribe? Suddenly she plopped down on the couch. "I...underestimated you...." she said with a panicked note in her voice. "Please...Serlena..." She reached out and took the woman's hand in her own. "Please, I beg you...don't tell anyone. I can...I'm very wealthy I...I could pay you or...or something. Whatever you like! Lord above..." Her free hand ranked through her soft, shortly cropped red hair. What a predicament! All because she couldn't just remain calm under such pressure. She hadn't cried in ages, not since she was little, but suddenly she felt like crying and it was utterly stupid and foolish. She was terrified that Serlena would run straight to her madame or to Friderick and reveal all. If she was lucky she would be packed off home and that would be the end of it. Maybe a flogging if the Lord was feeling unkind.

"I'm not...ready to go back...." Jacqueline rambled on. "I'm not ready to give this up. I love this life. I love...uh...well all of it. Even with men being so dimwitted and exasperating," she added with a nervous laugh. "It's foolish isn't it? Mad really...and selfish. My parents things I've been kidnapped or killed..." Jacqueline just couldn't seem to still her tongue or organize her thoughts. "I'm so sorry...I shouldn't ask you to lie for me. Just some foolish, spoiled girl." Everything was welling up and she was struggling to keep it all contained which led to her gibbering mess of words tumbling out of her mouth.
 
The vehemence of the denial was all Serlena needed. And despite laughing at the little Lady’s nervous tittering, she had no malicious intentions for the noblewoman. It quite amused her, this façade she was running, and her mind swam with what efforts might be required. In reality, Serlena was not a stranger to such things. Often during war or in troubled regions, it was wiser to travel looking like a male, than a female, as bandits and marauders placed a strange reward and bounty on capturing ripe young women. Archensheen wasn’t her home but Serlena knew the dangers of travel and what needed to be done. But that was a chore for a lowborn like herself. And here was a noble with money and privilege doing the same. She was curious as to the whys.

But finally at least, her paid customer deigned to touch her and knowing the truth, Serlena could recognize how womanly that touch was. It didn’t seem to fit this red haired enigma at all. “Well I’ve already been paid.” She winked, grinning from ear to ear, perfect teeth visible between her naturally pouty lips. All features men would like. “It’s rather amusing if you ask me. You get to travel as one of them, listen and learn their secrets, the secrets of people who claim to run and govern our world.” Serlena rolled her eyes and sipped her wine. If she intended to do anything malicious with this information, she wasn’t in no rush. “You get to live like one of them. Well not exactly. You’re missing their favoured bits, down there.” She said, gesturing with her eyes.

“And how exactly do you compensate for that? They all bathe together, from what I heard. And take their pisses in unison up against a tree. You’ve managed this long without them noticing? How long have you done it?” Serlena asked, eyebrow quirked as she looked her customer over, sizing her up as if for the first time. Yes, she could start to see all the feminine traits. They were borderline masculine in a way, like a boy on the cusp of manhood but not quite there yet. Just need a little bit of seasoning more if anything. But the eyes gave it away. “Come, come, soothe yourself. I don’t intend to betray you. Why should I? I’ll be doing all of us a disfavor. And your knight might demand a refund! So your secret is safe here with me.” Serlena offered, leaning back on the couch, admiring the noblewoman to her side.

“This is quite exhilarating to be honest. What a conspiracy!” She chuckled again, getting up to fetch the wine and to top off Jacqueline’s drink. “And no one knows? Not your parents? Or they think you, the real you, is kidnapped you say? So who are you supposed to be? I have so many questions.” Serlena said, moving to sit down again.

It was at that moment there came a knock in the midst of their conversation. It was…Friderick! “Little Lord Lancaster, are you making out alright?” He asked through the door.

In response, Serlena swept her arms around Jacqueline, putting her cheek to the other woman’s cheek and began to…moan. “Oh god, m’lord! Oh! Oh!” She cried out wantonly, repeating it over and over again for a moment. Friderick, hearing the ravishing moans of a woman, decided his boy was doing alright and moved away. When Serlena judged him gone or no longer listening, she drew back from Jacqueline as if the whole scene never happened, straightening out her hair and smoothing out her gown. It was strange she was still wearing it this long! She spent more time in her birthday suit than anything.

“So are you sure you don’t want to partake? Not as if I haven’t been with a woman before. I suppose women must be your fancy then, if you desire to dress like a man. Why else would you do it?” Serlena asked, returning to her insatiable curiosity, wondering if Jacqueline really got the kick out of fighting and rolling with other boys. That was pseudo like sex, in a way. It’s how it often started.
 
Serlena's reaction wasn't exactly what Jacqueline had expected. She almost seemed like it wasn't the first time she had ever encountered a woman trying to pass as a man. Sure it had to be shocking! Surprising and downright strange. Instead she seemed more interesting in thinking what it would be like to live among men in such a way. Deep in their world, privy to everything that was said. "Men don't have many secrets," Jacqueline said with a mild roll of her green eyes. "Most of them seem about as deep as rain puddles," she added with an amused snort, purposefully ignoring the casual glance to her groin. Missing their favorite bits. Men did seem to handle them oddly often. Though raised a lady, much to her chagrin, she knew there were other reasons. One of those reasons sat before her.

A battery of question assailed her suddenly. Jacqueline's eyes went a little wide at the sudden barrage. "Ah, a moon or so perhaps? The days have been hard to keep track of. None of them are the wiser," she said with a slow nod. Yes, none of them suspect a thing. "Though, honestly, it's not been that difficult. Even with my monthly courses." Honestly she wasn't even sure if she had been particularly crafty or just very lucky. Always finding somewhere private to relieve herself and sleeping in clothing. She grinned some at Serlena's excitement over the notion, watching the woman as she flit off to grab the decanter and pour more wine, though Jacqueline had barely taken any. When she questioned if anyone knew and of her parents Jacqueline suddenly froze up. The guilt driving back into her guts with a sudden force.

Though the feeling was suddenly stamped away at the knock at the door. She gave a little 'eep' at Friderick's call through the door. Not now! He wouldn't barge in would he? Before she could fret too much of that Serlena suddenly thrust her weight onto her. A soft cheek pressed to her own. Jacqueline's eyes and mouth fell open as the woman started moaning and shouting. She didn't have a clue what to do, hell she could barely form a thought as Serlena moaned and cried against her. Her eyes darted around, flicking from the ceiling to Serlena and to the door. Her heart beat with an irregularity with the sounds and contact. Her face heated with a furious intensity. She prayed for it to stop, for Friderick to just go away.

As suddenly as it had come on Serlena back off of her. Like a cat she sat back as though nothing odd had happened. Jacqueline stared, still agape at the action. While she was comprehending why Serlena had made the noises she didn't quite understand why she had thrown herself so close. Far too close and far too suddenly. Furthermore, why on earth had Friderick come up to check?Jacqueline gave a light groan and massaged her temples. This was all entirely crazy. She had a sudden desire to put thistle in Friderick's britches. Though she harbored a quiet appreciation for Serlena, play acting as such to help keep the secret.

The desire only grew at Serlena's new suggestion. Jacqueline face somehow grew redder and yet paled at the same time. "No!" She yelped but cut the yelp shot and cleared her throat. "I mean...no I...thank you but no. I-I do not fancy women in fact. I do, ah, prefer men. And not those cala-cara....men you spoke of before. I do this because...I...like to fight. I want to be a knight. It's...rather silly I suppose but its simple as that. I...please no offense but women are so...so boring! And that is all we are permitted to spend time with. Droning on and on about this marriage and that bolt of cloth and these types of cheese. Oh and the weather. How many ways can a single person discuss nice days, rainy days, and snow? Windy too I suppose but weather is not that interesting." In a riled huff she took a long drink of her wine.

"I have no right to be unhappy, I know. Lap of luxury, wealthy...but it's just not a life I want to lead. I've been happy with Friderick...er...with the whole group of course but being Friderick's squire is the happiest I've been." She stopped and huffed a sigh. "We did receive word that I've gone...missing. My brother knows of this farce. While I dreamed of riding and sword play he wanted a quieter life. He is off at some monastery somewhere. He helped me start this farce, cut my hair for me, gave me his clothing. But when I didn't return from seeing him off to join Friderick, as we had told our parents, I suppose the search began." Jacqueline paused and ran her finger around the rim of her cup. "So here we are...a strange turn of events really. I swear...I'd like to think better of him but I think Friderick might just be like other men," she said with a small laugh.
 
Most of them seem about as deep as rain puddles. That gave Serlena a good chuckle. She didn’t think it was so, however. Some men could be deep, intense. Others were boring and dull. This girl before her was still young though. And only when she spoke about her knight, Friderick, did she notice a real change in the lady before her. How inconsiderate that Jacqueline should stop there and turn to more boring questions. Serlena wanted to know more about Friderick, and how he made her happy. She took a sip of her wine while Jacqueline laughed, trying to make it seem as if her knight was no different than the rest.

She smiled politely as Jacqueline gave her reasons for doing what she did. All she wanted to do was fight. She liked men still. She didn’t want to be a traditional Lady. That was hard to fathom for Serlena. She had no clue what it was really like for a noblewoman. All she could think of was jewelry, dresses, and living in luxury. And this girl wanted to ditch it all to haul ass around like a commoner? It was astonishing and ridiculous to her at the same time. All this effort just to swing a sword like a boy. As far as Serlena was concerned, she could leave the sword dangling and lance handling to the boys, to whom it seemed a natural sport.

That was all for another time and place though. She was more concerned about this Friderick. She noticed too that Jacqueline never called him Ser or Lord. Always by his name. Like they were close.

“You’d like to think better of him? What’s stopping you from doing that?” Serlena asked pointedly, as if all the other information didn’t matter. She reached over to nudge Jacqueline’s hand that held her wine, encouraging her to drink, so that it might loosen her tongue. So many seemed to hold tremendous weight on their shoulders. It was Serlena’s job to get it off, or at least help make them forget it. “Does he know, or suspect, that you are a girl? What do you think he will do? He’s such a big man.” She said, almost a little dreamily. “So you and your brother planned all this out? Does he wish to be a girl then, in reverse to you?” She chuckled, sipping more of her wine. This was more amusing than being humped into for an hour.

“Your brother must be something special though, to give up his place for you. You should be grateful and thank him every day. But don’t you think, in your absence, their investigation might lead to him and his monastery? Would you really want to put it on him, after he sacrificed so much, to have to cover and deal with this falsehood alone?” Serlena then questioned, getting serious for a moment with Jacqueline. A woman should always pay her debts and she owed a big one to her brother, this lady. “You don’t want his life to be ruined for yours, do you? You need to do something about this, m’lady.” She advised, sipping yet again. She was having too much fun with this. How many times did she get to deal with situations like this? And yet Jacqueline chose this life over sipping fine, sweet wines and discussing the weather. Well, that bit was the same everywhere.

“But tell me more about Friderick. Who is he?” Serlena then said, giving Jacqueline a nudge on her shoulder. She was a touchy one, Serlena. But the wine was in her, she was having a little fun, and again it was her profession to touch. Jacqueline’s time though was almost over.
 
What was stopping her? Jacqueline stared at Serlena a moment. A decent enough question but the answer was elusive. A feeling that was difficult to put into words. Even more so when Serlena reached forward to encourage more drinking. Jacqueline tilted the cup back and took a small drink. No need to become inebriated, she had to keep her wits about her at all times. Sure they were a little safe in the locked room but she couldn't stay there forever. Eventually the time time would be up and she would have to go on with her deception. She was quick to launch more question about Friderick and her brother. Jacqueline couldn't get a word in to even start to answer the questions and more and more were shot her way. Though her eyebrows shot up before dropping to a small frown at the suggestion her brother wanted to be a woman. Jacqueline opened her mouth for a retort but Serlena was too quick and went on.

Knots tied in Jacqueline's stomach. Not for the first time did the guilt begin to gnaw. The potential for her brother to be discovered in the scheme. Jacqueline bit her lip as the raw pit writhed in her guts. His life ruined for her. She hadn't entirely thought of that. Though what could anyone really do? She scuffed a booted toe on the floor as her lips pressed together. First curious then lecturing. A small lecture really, hardly anything compared to Friderick's lectures. Serlena, despite her forward and perhaps a little ill-advised advice, was growing on her somewhat. It was actually nice to speak to another woman who didn't prattle on about boring subjects. Jacqueline had vastly underestimated the woman. She was quite sharp but a little opinionated for someone who didn't have all of the details. Not that Jacqueline was particularly forthcoming with her.

Who was Friderick? The sudden shift right back to Friderick gave Jacqueline pause. She reached up and ran a hand through her short cropped hair. "Well...ah..." She paused and grasped the cup with both hands at the playful push. "He's a good man with a good heart...a noble spirit. More noble than mine I think," she said with a light laugh. "A hard master in training but...caring. To a degree. Brave certainly. Though a little...stuck, perhaps. His heart is set on this...eugh...Lady Aurainne. Very beautiful but painfully dim and seemingly unaware of Friderick's existence. Unless fairing well in the tournament." Jacqueline's disdain for the Lady Aurainne was clear in the rumble of her vitriol when saying the woman's name. "She ignores and dismisses him but he chases her like some loyal pup and it..." Jacqueline stopped herself, ears suddenly aflame.

"But my brother wouldn't be ruined. I don't even know if he could be found. He didn't even tell me which monastery he was destined for." She paused at the more comfortable change of subject, clearing her throat and willing her ears to cease burning. "And no, he does not wish to act as a woman. I have all the guts and he possesses all the brains, so mother says," she said with a small laugh. "Says with a great deal of shame I might add. He always wanted a quieter life of study, of a path with the Lord. My want of fighting only helped him as well. He is free to follow the path of his choosing and I follow the path chosen for him," she said with an amused grin.
 
Serlena watched with delighted patience at the strange and exciting woman before her. Her illusions stripped away, she was struggling to remember who she was at the core. Just a woman. But the prostitute didn’t intend to do anything mischievous. Some of the other women were mean and hard just like their customers, always scheming to get ahead. They could do terrible damage with this information. It was dangerous to make foes of nobles though. They were far wealthier and capable. And Serlena and her ilk were just whores after all. Replaceable and expendable.

Perhaps for her this was a glimpse into a whole new type of living. She didn’t envy Jacqueline her problems, though perhaps Serlena might for her manly affairs. The noblewoman, like Serlena, was only trying to escape her restrictive societal cage. Why shouldn’t Serlena aid and encourage another who might actually get away, rather than trying to keep them all down in the pit?

She laughed openly at Jacqueline’s description of Ser Friderick, so praising and intended. Followed soon after by ire and hatred for this Lady Aurianne, whom Serlena even knew about. The Lady was hearing up cheap help for some future event and Serlena considered joining, perhaps a chance at joining the household full time. But among dozens of women who would try, many more experienced and proper, she would never make it. If Serlena didn’t know any better though, she could see the love and admiration in Jacqueline when she explained, soon cutting herself off. Why?! Keep going. Serlena didn’t have to say anything on that though. Jacqueline only needed to listen to herself.

No, the young woman had her priorities straight and she had to figure out a solution to her current predicament before any pleasure could be had. Serlena could admire that. She polished off her wine and set it aside, turning back to her customer, scooting closer, one thigh crossed over the other. “I’m going to speak to you plainly, m’lady. You should not feel ashamed, you or your brother, for wanting to chase the happiness in your hearts. But that doesn’t mean you can disregard the rules either, no matter how garbage they are. So here’s what I think you should do. Go and speak to your brother. You have to find him first. You’re both in on this conspiracy. Get to him and figure out a way to get atop of this. They think he is you and vice versa. You two can spin a lie on this. You just have to hide it from your dear knight.” Serlena concluded, looking at the door next.

“But he is your main problem. I would say, hide it, but don’t forever. You need to tell him before he finds out on his own or you’ll be in very deep trouble. If you can break it to him first, you could possibly control how it turns out but if you don’t, it’ll get away from you. Just remember that. With your brother, I can tell you the lie though. You both need to get together, write a letter on your…sister’s behalf, and have it delivered by your knight and your brother, if you catch my meaning. The letter can say anything you want.” Serlena shrugged. She was barely literate herself.

There came the sounds of a soft ringing within the brothel. Remote, and hardly noticeable given all the noise and excitement that, generally, went on. But they had been speaking quietly the past while. It was a timer, to indicate to the workers the passage of time. Obviously shortened somewhat, to help gyp the customers out of the full hour. Just by a bit. “That’s our time I’m afraid. It’s good we’re already dressed. The head madam gets furious if we’re slow on that. Gets us a light whipping. You’re supposed to be out by the ringing, not finishing the act. Most men though think it goes right to the end, the last minute.” She rolled her eyes and stood, offering her hand to Jacqueline, out of instinct mostly. “Will you be alright, m’lady? Will you be able to face your Friderick out there and answer his curiosity? Or shall I assist you on that again?” She giggled and went to the door a little with her, before pausing and grabbing Jacqueline by her shoulder, looking her in the eye seriously for a moment.

“I’m going to keep your secret. In return, you just forget about this Aurianne. I’ve known many men in my time and their problems, whispering their desires to me even as they lay on me. Your Friderick is smarter than them. He’ll see past Aurianne. You just need to be in the right place at the right time. Remember?” She asked pointedly, referring to the advice she had given moments before. Don’t delay in telling him the truth. Sooner is better than the right time. There never will be one. Do it before he finds out.

And with that, they could step outside and go down to the lobby, where Friderick and other men waited for their turn. Well, except the Baron of course.
 
Serlena moved closer again. Jacqueline shied a little but was very much out of space on the couch. Her knuckles were nearly white on the cup at the close proximity. She wanted to think it was just habit given Serlena's profession. Still, the secret was such a new and raw opening, the woman still frightened her a little. Plus she was certainly a little on edge from the close proximity. In combat it was one thing but this was entirely different! Though she stopped herself and listened intently as Serlena spoke. A little forward though the woman might be Jacqueline felt a very odd sort of kinship with the woman. Both of them trapped by the simple fact of the parts they were born with. She respected Serlena in a way, making her own path even if it was on her back.

Find her brother then tell Friderick. It made sense. Then they could pen a letter from Jacqueline to her parents, all in on the lie, and have it delivered by Friderick and Jacque. Well her pretending to be Jacque. She wondered if her parents would even realized. Likely her mother would. Maybe she didn't quite grasp Serlena's meaning fully. Jacqueline opened her mouth, taking in a breath to respond but was interrupted by the tinkling of a tiny bell. Her body went still and her head whipped to the door expecting sudden company. Though Serlena was quick to assuage any fear. Their time was up. "Oh...oh alright," Jacqueline said with a sigh of relief. Not for the time being up but what the bell had really meant. Jacqueline didn't hesitate and took Serlena's hand to rise from the couch. She couldn't help a small smile at the woman. Part of her suddenly wished to have a little more time to talk. Her nerves were only just starting to dwindle, if barely. It would be nice to talk more. "I certainly hope I will be," she said with a small laugh. "No, I shall be. I think I should be able to face Friderick alone. He already expects me to be a nervous wreck of a pompous little lord. He likely won't question my...hesitancy on divulging such affairs." Hopefully anyways, he could be very pushy too.

Serlena's last comments of Aurainne brought an unexpected, appreciative smile to Jacqueline's lips. Maybe she was right. Aurainne was off the table anyways though Friderick still didn't know. He would know soon enough and Jacqueline was sure it might break him a little. Before Serlena opened the door Jacqueline lunged forward and gave the woman a quick, tight hug. With all the training she was decently strong even for such a little thing. "Thank you Serlena. Thank you for everything. I hope we meet again. Though perhaps...not under such occasions," she added with a laugh. Then they could go back down to the lobby. Back to being Jacque, back to being a boy. A couple knights looked up at their appearance and gave snickering cheers. One was quick, however, to get up and go with Serlena. Jacqueline glanced back at the woman, a knot in her stomach. A little forward and touchy but a good woman. Jacqueline wished such a woman didn't have do that just to earn a meal. The world was terrible and cruel.

Though she turned back and her eyes fell on Friderick. He looked different somehow. She couldn't pinpoint the why or how. Just different. A strange wave of embarrassed nausea set in her stomach, turning her ears red and her belly full of butterflies. Clearing her throat she stepped closer to the Baron. "Uh...thank you for...that...shall we?" She asked, gesturing to the door. They did still have a tournament to prepare for after all.
 
“Farewell, m’lord. I shall never forget our encounter.” Serlena beckoned, an oft spoken lie told to departing customers to stroke their ego, though in this case genuinely meant in all honesty. It was indeed an evening to remember, despite its lack of activity and exertion. Perhaps that is what set it apart, not just the free pay she would be receiving as well. She smiled, leaning against the threshold, running a hand through her disheveled looking hair, looking by all outward appearances to be satisfied and soon to be missing the one she had committed this fling with.

Well, that is how it looked to Friderick. He had no inkling of what really occurred within. Yet it was confusing, given Jacque’s nervousness gratitude, coupled with the prostitute’s content look. Did it not man him up a little? “You’re welcome, little lord.” The Baron said, clapping the boy on the shoulder in his usual fashion. Something was wrong but looking over the prostitute in question, she didn’t seem put off. “How was he? Like a Lord I hope?” Friderick inquired of Serlena.

“Like a bull.” She praised with a wink, before another male customer moved before her, wanting her services and she acquiesced. Well, what more proof did he need? Not as if there was some elaborate conspiracy here.

He lead Jacque out of that place of ill-repute soon after. It was not a bad establishment. He got some drink without having to try the wares first. Often it was for paying customers only, which he was in this case too but not directly. “I’m glad to see the girl didn’t run out of their screaming or terrified of you. You have some way with the ladies.” He noted, looking down at his Esquire as they walked back into the star-lit streets of the town. There was still many people about, in taverns, or drinking on the side of the streets. A makeshift band was playing music somewhere, while some revelers drunkenly danced to it. “So tell me, what’s more entertaining, penetrating a woman in pleasure or penetrating a man in battle?” He asked, unsure which answer he might get. The boy didn’t seem overly giddy about his first time.

“Well you certainly earned it. A melee victory under your belt already. I’m sure it will be some good news for your father. How are you feeling though? Really feeling? Would you like something to eat, drink?” Friderick was being uncharacteristically lax in his usual rules. But with good effort and a job well done came rewards and relaxation. Never first, always after. He hoped Jacque would understand that. As a Duke, he had greater responsibility and should attend to it. Not much different than attending a Lady’s needs, Friderick imagined. Be attentive, and one shall be rewarded. Don’t, and one will find themselves bereft of any pleasure in the end. Still, the boy was young. Maybe he figured he had committed some ill-deed. Or had the desire to reserve himself for someone whom he loved. Friderick could understand that. So maybe there was a special Lady in Jacque’s heart after all. At least he had knowledge of the right tools and tactics to use.

Yet it wasn’t availing him much in his pursuit of Lady Aurianne. A great tournament victory however should cross that final ridge and bring her to him. Then what?

“My challenge will begin soon enough. But there is little you can help me in that, beyond keeping my armour maintained and bringing my lances to me upon the sands. And cheering me from the sidelines. Take this time to rest and reflect on all you’ve learned up until now. And be mindful of what you are going to see in myself and the other veteran knights.” Friderick then said as they walked back to camp. “But when we finish, we shall return to Lancaster to assist in your family’s search for your sister. We’ll have fresh and vigorous minds to add to it, I’m sure. Yet no one would understand her as well as you I reckon. Is she still on your mind?” He then inquired about her sister as they headed back.
 
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