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Squire's Secret (Benny and Gunner)

No. Not harsh or venomous yet so flatly said it could almost seem so. Jacqueline quirked her brows up at Friderick. It hadn't been so long, she might understand a twinge of anger at the mention of it. Foolish of her to even ask really, despite the boiling curiosity. The answer should suffice but that tone made her wonder if, perhaps, there might still be something lingering. She shouldn't worry about it. Stupid of course. "When you were angered and wanted to practice for a tilt. Told me to stand in a field and hold up your shield for a target. You charged with no warning," she said with a light laugh, sitting herself back up properly. Better to change the subject back to that.

Jacqueline reached to retrieve the quill, just one more attempt before she tossed the entire stack of parchment into the fire. Friderick's sudden shift, the slow and languid slide off the couch, gave her pause. His long, strong leg brush against hers, the warmth so easy to feel with thin breeches between them. Her body stiffened with the sudden grasp on the back of her neck. Blue eyes shot up and over to look up at Friderick just as he licked his thumb to scrub the ink off her cheek. Jacqueline gave a chuffing little growl with a laugh hard on the heels. What was she? Six? Even still she didn't try to struggle away from him as he cleaned off her cheek.

His offer to be her scribe brought on a wide grin with a touch of suspicion. This was different behavior to be sure. Of course she wasn't going to turn down the assistance even if Friderick possibly didn't possess the same loose, flowing script of her brother. "Add something about the handwriting," she said, leaning over against Friderick and staring down at the page, her chin resting on his bicep. "Something like...'apologies for my poor penmanship. Ser Friderick is a hard master, my hands more suited to sword than quill any more.'" Jacqueline couldn't help a snicker at that. Her mother had always bemoaned her inability to do anything with grace like write or sew, said she had the hands of a blacksmith.

Another letter to her brother, a far easier task certainly. There was so much she wished to tell him and a great deal of it she knew she couldn't. Secrets were rare between them but...well she could hardly take the risk to speak of everything she wished to. She glanced over at Friderick just in time to catch that rare, bright smile. A little flare of heat ignited in her gut and sent a shiver down her back. Lord have mercy. She couldn't help but smile back at him. While there was certainly one activity front and center in her mind his suggestion of sparring had merit as well. She had only recently been healed enough to start back on training after all. "But first, one more letter," she said as her smile turned to a sly little grin. Jacqueline leaned forward to grab another sheet of parchment and took up the quill once more.

Before she could start on writing Friderick spoke up again. Her head tilted at him curiously at the suggestion. Somehow he had not struck her as the potted plant and decorating type. Not for the first time she realized how little she knew of Friderick. "I can't say I have tried it before," she said as he stood up and went to the heap of belongings still unsorted. Her mother had kept a hot house and did a fine job keeping strange and beautiful plants from distant lands hale and healthy. Given her history of being so different from her mother she could only assume gardening would be a spectacular failure for her. Regardless he was right, if they were to be there for some time it would be nice to make the home from home more...well...homey. She watched him as he took his own standard to hang on the wall like a bold tapestry.

The mention of having her own standard sent brought an excited trill through her body. Her own lance, flying the colors of her family. It was easy enough to picture and she could grin at the thought. The cheer of crowds at a joust. Even better: that smile. It was so easy to imagine. Arm numb and tingling from the impact, hot and sweaty in full armor, the roar of the crowds, and that smile. Jacqueline's eyes went hazy a moment, lost in the thought until suddenly blinking and shaking her head. "Well I would hardly expect you to pay for the sending of my family standard. Father will be very pleased that your tutelage might so quickly bear fruit," she added with a laugh before leaning down to write to her brother.

The letter to Jacque was far longer, scribbled so furiously it was a wonder the quill didn't create a breeze in her short, fluffy hair. It was almost impossible not to pour out as many details as possible, chronicling everything. Well...not everything but she wasn't shy talking about the fights with bandits and the subsequent wounds. She spoke highly of Friderick, expressing a wish he might me the man who had been his intended mentor. Two and half sheets of parchment later she closed, mentioning an addition of a copy of the letter that would be sent to their parents from "Jacque." Jacqueline made quick work copying over the letter and set the parchment aside to allow the ink to dry before it would be rolled up and sealed with wax. With a hearty, content sigh she set down the quill, flexing and stretching her cramped hand.

Blue eyes settled back to Friderick. A small battle roiled in her stomach. Oh what to do. There was so much she wished to do. Oh, so very much. She glanced to the solitary window near the hearth. It was still daylight though it was fast fading. With a steeling huff she pushed herself to her feet and went right for their gear. "No sense in letting the light go to waste," she said with a grin as she took out the sparring swords. "Can't let my mentor down after so highly praising him to my brother." Jacqueline was quick to pull her stockings back on, followed by her warmed boots, and her cloak. "And I don't wish to lose such progress from forced rest." As she spoke she rolled her right shoulder. With the stitching still in she didn't have full range of motion just yet but the wound was better and the stitching could come out soon.

Jacqueline was more than ready for a match. She was learning better on fighting such a larger opponent. Her reach was poor and she was slower than normal with the wound hindering her but her quick foot work had improved with the handicap. She was surprised to find that, despite her reddening nose and chilled ears she rather liked sparing in such cool weather. The fighting kept her warm and the cool weather seemed to add vigor to her muscles. If nothing else she didn't feel nearly as hot and run down. The sun was hastening its way down the horizon, lamps were lit but the courtyard wasn't particularly well illuminated. Even their campfires had done a better job for light when sparring past dark.

As their training wrapped up for the evening two men appeared in the yard, stuffing and lighting long pipes. They settled in, wrapped in warm cloaks, for a relaxing smoke.

"Wolves are moving in early this year I hear," one of them said.

The other nodded with a grunt, "aye. Gunther's lost six head already. Pack's gotten bigger too."
 
When Jacqueline went further on whether he was over Lady Aurianne or not, he gave her a pointed, serious look. Why did it matter? He wasn’t pursuing nor was he even with that woman. He was with…Jacqueline. Lady Lancaster. Or perhaps…he thought with a small smirk, was this womanly jealousy? It seemed a ridiculous notion and he refused to entertain any further thought of it. She would simply have to be mature and get over it. Like he did. His hopes were dashed, he turned away. As for her, she just had to trust him. Her laugh seemed to dismiss the whole notion but he knew how the whims of women could change.

The writing of the letter went smoothly. A city with many mercantile and commerce transaction, parchment and ink were in abundance here, and acquired cheaply. He rolled his eyes at her suggestion about the handwriting and put in something neutral like my hand was injured during training with Ser Friderick and I’ve engaged a kind clerical apprentice to write these letters for a few pence. He personally never thought there was anything wrong with Jacqueline’s hands, whether for fighting, or working…or lovemaking. Maybe it was because he was the only one who knew her secret, his mind had a habit of seeing the more feminine sides of her, in order to better conceal them, despite her best efforts. She was a woman through-and-through to him.

“It’s not uncommon for a mentor to pay for some expenses of his protégé. A small price, that could easily be repaid upon the victory of your first real tournament.” He said, smile still in place. He knew her family was rich however. A squire’s melee, while spectacular, hardly held as much weight as prevailing in a true jouster’s match. There was a sense of motivation in Jacqueline now after he mentioned the free day to do as she pleased. He half suspected she would take the time to relax…or not. He knew what other activity might be left budding in her mind after so many days of abstaining. So close to the finish however he did not think it wise to tempt the fates by indulging. Her wounds could easily unravel.

The Baron of Alnerwick was therefore surprised when Jacqueline returned with sparring swords.

He didn’t complain. A few other lodgers stopped to watch the pair in the snow-covered courtyard. An older knight and a strapping young man, nothing out of the ordinary. To a city of commerce, such swordplay was tedious. They hired others to do their fighting. Friderick took Jacqueline through each of the stances and routines first, the short dances and steps designed to work out every muscle that could quite possibly be used in a fight. He watched and analyzed the vigour and strength in which she utilized her injured side during the training. He would say she was about nine-tenths of the path to recovery. As the last bit of light faded, he allowed her a brief, all-out bout against him, though he neither permitted her to gain any advantage and as usual, withheld himself from completely overpowering her through skill or brute force.

Out of respect for the labourers, their own day work ending with the dying sun, Friderick called an end to the session. No one wanted to hear the grunts of warrior and the clash of wood during hours of rest. He did overhear their talk as he wiped his forehead and brow, leaving his squire to collect the sparring swords and shields. It seemed like a good opportunity. Multiple, albeit simple-minded, opponents. A good test of battle awareness. She had the physical ability. Time to train the mental capacity.

“Gunther, I take it, is a local farmer around here, yes?” Friderick asked the two men, who looked at him startled as he butt into their seemingly private conversation.

“Aye, just a mile out the Wind Gate.” One of them said, eyeing him up and down. “Yer a sellsword?”

“Knight. And my squire.” Friderick jerked a thumb at Jacqueline. They didn’t even spare her a glance. Small lads like her were as common as muck in a cow shed. They did however snort humorously at his statement.

“Is ther a difference?” One of them chortled.

“I take payment after the job is done.” Friderick explained. “Honorably.”

They chortled again. “So a sellsword with bad bargaining.”

Friderick didn’t care. He got the information he needed. They could barter with Gunther directly. And money isn’t what they needed. Reputability, friends, information, in that order, is what they needed. Information led to jobs and happenings. True experience for any budding knight. With nothing more to say, Friderick led Jacqueline back to the room. “Clean that up and put that away.” He said about the gear. “I’ll go arrange supper and a hot bath for us.” He said and went to the common room to speak to the innkeeper, who made the appropriate arrangements with his staff. Friderick would return followed by a small train of servants, who brought a meal, and buckets of hot water to fill their tub with in the adjourning room. For extra coin, the bar maid could assist. Friderick passed on that.

Supper was a tall bowl of hot porridge, lamb bites, carrots, asparagus, and a delicious broth. Enough to serve four. Dishes and the like could be left just outside the door where staff would collect them on their rounds. The food they acquired earlier were cold amenities. Like bread and dried fruit, they could keep it around. This was a hot meal, to be consumed on the go. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to this Gunther’s farm. We’ll take care of his wolf problem for him. I don’t think the snows get too deep this far south so he probably allows his animals to roam about, where they could flatten his yard. Maybe we can use that yard for some jousting practice. A good idea, hmm?” Friderick stated to Jacqueline. He was honest about his offer to begin training her with the lance. But wolves? Wasn’t that a hunter’s job?

For a time, distracted by the rigorous work, Friderick slouched on the couch and seemed to forget their true dynamic. “You can use the bath first if you like, before I muddle it all up.” He offered to her. Once cleansed, they could eat. And then, when night came, they could…rest.
 
Jacqueline's breath came in short, huffing puffs that hung in the cold air. The final bout more taxing than the simple exercises. Baring a bit of stiffness from her injured shoulder she had tried her best to gain ground and advantage on Friderick. Of course it was all for naught. He had her easily beat in experience and size. Frustrating as it was he would be a poor mentor if she could best him. She wiped her brow and ruffled her short hair before collecting their sword and shields. Already her muscles were cooling and she was feeling the bite of the cold air setting off light shivers. The sweat certainly didn't help matters.

She heard the men talk of wolves but only paused to look up as Friderick addressed them. Her head tilted at him as he questioned after the farmer, Gunther. Brows furrowed some with a puzzled glance. Was he just making polite conversation? Though the curious frown turned to an annoyed one as the man asked if they were sellswords. How rude. Her lips pursed as the men spoke, chortling at their own inane jokes. Clearly the people in Pearlpoint had no respect for knights. Sellsword with bad bargaining indeed. Impudent man. She kept her mouth firmly shut, figuring Friderick wouldn't appreciate her butting in and berating the man for his rudeness. With a small scowl towards the older man she turned and followed Friderick back inside, glad to be out of the cold and snow.

Jacqueline heaved a relieved sigh as they got back to their warm room. Snow and cold were not her favorite for certain. His order was met with a nod and as he headed off to arrange food and bath she got to work cleaning up. Their meager amount of possessions were divided up into the two rooms. Training gear was stowed neatly in the common space, dried off from the snow. The place was put together and organized by the time Friderick returned with a slew of servants to fill the tub with hot water. They coyly offered bathing assistance which brought raised bows from Jacqueline, certainly not surprised Friderick declined.

The smell of even such a simple supper set her stomach growling. Her head tilted some as he spoke about going to the farm. A strange task, hunting down wolves. She would have to admit her work with a bow was sub-par to the say the least. More tempting was the hope the farmer might let them use his land to practice jousting. The understanding dawned on her. "Yes actually. For a moment I thought you had lost your mind, hunting down wolves just for the coin," she said with a small laugh. The offer, however, of going off to bathe was more than welcome. Besides scrubbing off the grit of travels it would feel wonderful after training in the snow. "I will try not to take too long," she said with a sharp nod and scurried off.

As promised she took as quick of a bath as possible, not taking time to even soak and enjoy the heat of the tub. She dried off an redressed in the room, laughing quietly to herself. It'd be the first time Friderick didn't walk in on her naked after, or during, bathing. Her damp hair hung around her ears as she stepped out into the common room for Friderick to take his turn. She sat at the table, more than ready for dinner, and waited for Friderick to take his bath. Her stomach squealed and grumbled as she waiting, leaning back in the chair, trying to get her mind off of the hollow feeling in her gut.

It seemed to be ages, though was hardly but a few minutes, when Friderick finally emerged and they could eat. Between the long travel in the wilds and the training she was absolutely famished and ready for a good, hearty meal. Despite the fierce hunger she was still a small woman and could only consume one portion, despite there being so much food on the table. Warm, full, clean, Jacqueline was utterly content. After basking in the quiet comfort and company she got up to clear the table and placed the dishes outside before bolting the door for the night. Her gaze settled on Friderick a moment before darting between the doorways of their separate rooms. Twice she opened her mouth to speak but made not a sound. He'd rebuffed the entire trip there and even earlier that day. Perhaps he was finally sticking to his vehement remarks of 'never again.'

"Good night," she finally managed, suddenly unable to even look at him. It was for the best anyways. She shouldn't expect anything more than mentorship from Friderick. He already took on a great deal in keeping her secret. With an oddly stiff gait she walked to her room, leaving the door open to let the heat from the fire seep in, to get ready for sleep.
 
“It is good coin.” Friderick answered Jacqueline matter-of-factly. “Not just the bare bounty. You can sell the meat, what little there is. The real money is in the pelts. Better if you kill one mostly intact for some noble who might like to boast about hunting but never had the…opportunity.” Friderick concluded vaguely, though he referred to trophy-hunters and those who cared about such appearances, wanting to look like they had prowess but never the courage to do so. Applied to a lot of nobles actually. Too used to living in privilege and wealth. They took turns bathing and Friderick was last and after a good scrub, he tilted the tub to pour into a small drainage built into the floor of the chamber. He was much more efficient than she was and arrived shortly after, already in his nightwear, which was only trousers and his socks. A towel sat around his bare neck and his own hair was dump and clinging around his face.

Now they could eat. It was a pleasant meal. Not much needed to be said, beyond a few remarks and observations about the food itself. He saw her fugitive gazes at him…and the bedrooms. He figured she was bold enough to ask for what she wanted. After all, she initiated this entire tryst of theirs, and increased the dangerous consequences of discovery tenfold for doing so. And yet, when she rose, much to his anticipation, she merely bid him a good night and went off to his room. Friderick felt…rather dejected. A part of him had hoped she would ask again, just so he could see that bright smile on his face when he gave her a bone, so to speak. But…nothing. Off she went, pattering on the floorboards to the secondary and smaller bedroom. That was no fun.

Friderick sighed and stowed away the dishes, stacking them and moving to place them outside the door, before doing a quick spot-check down either direction…and listening. Nothing. Just murmured conversations far away. He wondered if there was anyone lodging on either side of their room. He made a mental note to ask next time. He then shut the door and locked it, before pausing and deciding to wedge a wooden chair under the knob, to further jam it. Not just against discovery of their shared secret. They were knights, with good gear, weapons, and metal. Didn’t want to get robbed in the night.

Then, he went to the threshold of the bedrooms, which faced one another across a small nook in the rear of the wider room. He leaned against the door, making no effort to mask his appearance, peering at Jacqueline within. “My bed is larger. It will be more comfortable there.” He pointed out in that same matter-of-fact tone. “And I rather not awake in the middle of the night to rekindle our fire. And I’m sure you don’t want to either.” It would be warm with the two of us. Together. Then he jerked his head invitingly. “Come on, Jacqueline.” He said to her and turned, though hoping she would have that…smile on her lips, if this was still what she desired. He went to his bedroom and just sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the sound of her footsteps, then her appearance in the doorway.

“Close the door behind you.” He added with a grin, before beckoning her over, extending his hands to receive her little hands in his. “And what would be my Lady’s delight tonight?” He asked her teasingly, drawing her in close to stand between his legs, hands jumping from hers to her waistline, his larger hands nearly encompassing her fully around. He craned his neck to bring his face upwards to her and kissed her on the lips. For now, life was good. They were safe. They were warm, full, and maybe a little drunk. And most of all…there was no worry about the morality of what they were going to do. Friderick’s heart was in it. He was over Aurianne. He was going to fuck Jacqueline until their bodies could take no more of it.
 
Jacqueline huffed a little sigh to herself as she pulled off her tunic. She need to get ahold of herself. The purpose was becoming a knight. That was why she was there. Friderick was her co-conspirator now, her mentor and that should be all. She tossed the tunic aside, standing in the dark in her britches and chest bindings. He had been right. They shouldn't, it wasn't right. How could she constantly ask more from the man? But God above she wanted to ask more. Her fists clenched in her frustration, her mind jumping between the want to just go back out there and climb him like a mountain and the restraint she knew she should be exercising. He exercised it well enough, why couldn't she? Well she could, so there. It was for the best. Foolish notions of any future were...well...foolish.

So lost in the boiling battle of her mind she jumped when a massive frame appeared in the door way. A rippling rush coursed her veins as her head whipped around and up at Friderick. Blue eyes went wide as he spoke, mouth agape. Come on Jacqueline. The shock broke, even as he turned a bright smile broke across her lips. The war effort for sense and reason was lost with that inviting little jerk of his head. Jacqueline's feet kicked up to a little trot across the way like some happy puppy following its master around. She skittered to a halt, just past the threshold, with his command to close the door. Her hand reached back and whipped the door closed, perhaps a little harder than she meant to, with a loud bang. The brilliant smile flashed to sheepish a moment before returning.

The reach for her hands set her blood on fire, her heart fluttering excitedly. Her ears burned as she let him reel her in to stand between his legs, the question giving her pause. Everything. Paltry, shallow, she couldn't bring herself to even say it in answer even as danced on her tongue. Praise God he saved her from having to answer his own question. Large hands grasped her bare waist and she leaned forward to meet his lips. Her arms slithered around his bare shoulders as she melted into him. Legs crooked and, for the second time that evening, she slid into his lap. Though rather than leave that teasing gap between them her body pressed in close to his. Fingers ranked though his dark hair as she nipped his lower lip and pulled back, hands coming to rest along his jaw. She looked at him, eyes bright yet almost serious. Too often he took care of her, the tables were overdue for a turn.

Jacqueline leaned back forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, her lips trailing a line a kissed down his jaw and to his neck. She teased and played on the sensitive flesh, nipping at his ear all while her hands trailed down his broad chest and across his hard stomach. Nips, licks, and kissed trailed down to his collar bone while her hands reached his britches. A practiced hand unlaced them in haste, eagerly pushing the lacing and hem down enough to free him from the confines. Unabashed little hands stroked his length while she left little bites on his collar bone. With some impressive flexibility she tucked her feet inside of his knees and slid back off his lap, down and down until her knees hit the floor. An almost mischievous grin spread across her face as she looked up at him, leaning in to flick her tongue across the head of his cock then run the length of it from base to tip, all while still looking up at him. She didn't break the eye contact until taking him into her mouth, sliding her lips down as far along him as she could. Her hand stroked where her lips could not reach. She found a slow, tormenting rhythm, pausing at the head of him to twirl her around the tip before going back down.
 
Jacqueline couldn’t even answer and vocalize her desire, revealing it a hundredfold in her actions as she rushed to his hands at his invite. Not even an acknowledgment or some sassy remark. Friderick himself was smiling broadly into their kiss, enjoying how so easily she molded right into his lap. His arms wrapped around her, pinching her smaller frame between his biceps, hands caressing up and down her back as he tasted her. He was hard beneath her weight but the desire that coursed through it had it easily rising to meet the challenge. They shared a brief look in the midst of it all. He knew he didn’t need Aurianne no longer and swore never to even think her name or existence. He had all he needed right here.

The little Lady certainly did have delights despite not sharing them. She kissed and trailed her way down his lips and throat, leaving him to half moan in pleasure and half groan in dejection of missing her lips more directly. But once her hands worked at his trousers, he knew there was no need to sulk in any way. He sighed when her hands reached his organ, finding it already hard and erect to her stroking, needing little encouragement, and Jacqueline slid out of his lap to sit on her knees on the floor, gazing up at him with what seemed a greedy expression. He looked down at her, not looking away, fighting the heavy intoxication of pleasure that fell upon his eyelids. “Jacqueline.” He moaned when she licked up the length of his cock, nearly making him leap out of his skin with how thunderous it felt inside.

“You’re very eager tonight, my Lady.” Friderick said with mock surprise, as if this was all a shock to him. He rested a hand upon one of her own, holding it tight, while his other cupped the side of her face and around her neck as she sucked. His eyes relished the sight of his cock filling her mouth, reaching the back of her throat, her hand covering where her lips could not reach. Yet. His body leaned and craned over her, abdomen tense and flexed, his trousers down to his ankles, his face hovering over her. As each delicious second ticked by, the pressure steadily mounted, making him grasp her face in both hands with need. “You’re so beautiful.” He huffed to her, more than once, tracing and outlining the shape of her face with a finger.

It looked even better, when he toppled over the edge to climax, and unleashed his seed upon it.

When he came to, he released the desperate grasp he had on her hair and face, not knowing the might of it when in the throes of the orgasm she inflicted on him. Her face and mouth were a mess and yet he savored the look, smears of seed and tendrils of it reaching from her lips to the head of his member. He smiled down at her and held her face steady as he kissed her forehead affectionately. “Very eager.” He reminded her, as if chiding her. Hands moved under her shoulders and he easily heaved her up to her feet, before pulling her towards him and back into his lap. One arm around her waist kept her close to his body as he scooted back, all clothing discarded on the floor, moving to the center of the bed where he could lay comfortably.

As he laid down, it put her on his lower abdomen. “I’m as eager as you. I’d like a taste.” He said and despite her wound being much better, he rather enjoyed this position even though it was not needed in consideration of that injury. It was comfortable. And her warmth upon his face, muffled by her intimate legs, was enjoyable to him. And that was where his strong hands pulled her, not even letting her adopt the position on her own, but greedily yanking her where he needed her. Strong, rock hard arms wrapped around her thighs either side of his face, pulling her hips down upon it. His lips met her sex. And with eyes open, he watched her directly above his orbs as he began to tongue her depths in search of her bounty now.
 
Jacqueline's eyes lifted to Friderick once more. The comment with feigned surprise made her grin, more or less. While her mouth was occupied with pleasuring him her eyes glinted in amusement. She delighted in the huffs and moans from him as she worked his length with lips, tongue, and hand. Her other hand turned and lightly flexed, her little fingers holding to his as he gripped tightly. She changed up her rhythms every so often, ranging from painfully slow teases with plenty of work from her tongue to fast and shallow bobs of her head. Her eyes danced between her work and his face, seeing the hooded expression with delight, as he leaned closer to her. Though her gaze steadied to his as he cupped her face in his large hands. You're so beautiful. As before the obvious view of a smile was busy but her eyes crinkled in the corners and seemed to glow at the compliment.

It was enough distraction she wasn't prepared for his climax. After the days of abstinence the force, and quantity, of it shocked her. Her head jerked back, blue eyes wide, but not far with his grip, her tongue and back of her throat well coated with his seed before he slipped out from between her lips halfway through his released. The rest splashed across her nose, cheeks, and lips, a long rope of it hanging on between her lower lip and his length. She gave a delicate little cough before managing to return the smile, her ears suddenly on fire from the sweet kiss to her forehead. "Always eager," she managed in a quiet, breathy little voice.

He didn't give much time to revel in the wake of the orgasm, suddenly hefting her up and back into his lap. Even as he locked her into him she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as he slid back in the bed. With a frantic rustle of clothing the pair of them were fully naked, Jacqueline took the moment to wipe off her face. She didn't resist as he laid himself back and for a moment she thought she knew what he wanted. Her hands moved to take his length again to impale herself with it but she stopped as he spoke. Blue eyes rose to his but before she could even process what he said she was firmly yanked forward; a little, yelping, 'eep!' jumped from her throat. The sound lapsed into a high giggle as he settled her above his face and locked down her thighs firmer than iron fetters. Giggles dissolved into a low, hissing moan when he delved straight into her with his tongue.

A chorus of moans and sighs echoed from above him as he worked her with tongue and lips. One arm stuck back, her little hand splayed on his chest for support while the other hand gripped his arm which wrapped around her thigh like some massive snake. He would not be disappointed in his want for a taste of her. Her body responded with a ferocity to his attentions. Fire whipped through her veins, her face flushing from the pounding of her heart. The more he delved into her the higher and shorter her squeaks and moans came. Nails dug into his chest and arm as that sweet, torturous pressure mounted in her lower abdomen. "Friderick," she breathed his name like a desperate prayer. A sudden seize of her muscles drove her nails biting into his flesh as her climax slammed into her with a high, staccato cry. The seizure melting into trembles that wracked her body. The fiery flood abated and her limbs stilled leaving a warm, heavy, weakness in its wake.

Regaining some feeling in her body Jacqueline wriggled until she could be free on the warm fetters that held her legs. With the freedom she scooted and slid down until she lay at his side, half of her draped over him, nuzzling her face into his neck. "Very eager indeed," she said with a wistful sigh and quiet laugh.
 
It was more open than a tent, but felt more protected and enclosed even without the expanse of wilderness and lack of inhabitation. Still, it pricked at Friderick’s mind how raucous Jacqueline’s moaning and sounds could be. A delight to his ears to be sure, but also a threat to their identity. Such sounds shouldn’t be coming from a room apparently lodging a man and his teenage squire. Not unless…but either case drew unnecessary attention. Friderick tried not to think about it though. Tried not to focus on such chances of discovery as he buried his tongue up into Jacqueline’s ripe, perfect sex, slipping between her folds, into her slit, tasting everything and leaving no inch of her uncovered.

Eventually his arms would stretch, reaching up to grasp her breasts, holding the small globes of flesh as she rode his face and tongue. His eyes alternated between closed and open, pouring out the exertion, or watching the consequences of his actions in her writhing form above. He furrowed his brow when she scratched her chest but did not rebuke. He was causing that reaction, and it pleased him. She was losing control. She was being pushed closer to a pleasing agony. And it would be all because of him. She tensed, jerked, and began to do a mad dance as she dove into the abyss of pleasure. Her essence flooded his mouth and he drank it up eagerly, tongue swirling about her depths, dragging heavily to every side of her cavern. Still, he did not cease his motions, even after her orgasm, and only was forced to when she pulled her delicate flower away from his buzzing lips.

Friderick lay there, grinning, licking his lips and recapturing her aftertaste. A service they did for one another and he did not regret it, even if it brought him no bodily pleasure. But a mental one, yes. So high a lady, with such tremendous pedigree, and she moaned for him like a love goddess. He was very hard indeed, so short after her own service. His arms allowed her to fall by his side, one tucked around her naked waist, her face against him like some adorable feline. He smiled even more, eyes closed, just relishing the moment, while his manhood stood tall and erect. And still much more eager.

He hummed in affirmation of her remark. “I think you are fully recovered, my Lady.” He remarked himself, turning his face to kiss her forehead. “But before we begin, there is one thing you must do. You are very…loud, during this next step. And while I enjoy it, it is a music I do not wish to share with others.” He said, hand dropping to squeeze her curvy behind very firmly. He then broke away and rolled off the bed, leaving her lacking his warm, bulky presence.

Glancing around, he strode to his baggage and found a clean stretch of cloth of sable hue, turning and bringing it back to the bed. “Come.” He indicated, wanting her on her knees by the edge, facing him, his hands smoothing over her hips and then her rear, as he gave her a passionate kiss. After a good moment of tongue swirling, he drew back. “This is to make sure you are quiet. You’ll wear it of course, like a good lady, won’t you, my lady?” He smirked at her, holding the ends in both his hands, raising it up towards her face.

“Any last words before we begin?” Friderick asked with an inquisitive raise of his eyebrow. It was a trap. The moment she opened her mouth to say anything, he shoved the cloth against her mouth and hurriedly tied it behind her neck. He poked the front, ensuring it was lodged within her mouth. “Clamp your teeth on it. You’re going to be my ride.” He grinned again and abruptly smacked the side of her ass to further prove the implication.

Then he seized her again, under her shoulders, and lifted her right off the bed, holding her a moment to let her legs dangle, before bringing her against his warm, broad chest. He balanced her with one arm beneath her, his other moving her legs around him where they needed to be, hoping she would use her arms to hold him tight around his neck and shoulders. Carrying her in this fashion, he bent his knees to help line up his cock to her sex, before gently bringing her down upon it. He found traction and released, letting their bodies naturally come together at the hip. He sighed and groaned in her face, forehead to forehead, watching her features as he turned and moved her, beginning to walk unsteadily until her back hit a wall. And subsequently, his raised banner, putting her naked back to his most esteemed standard that represented his House and family.

The action too caused his cock to ram quite suddenly deeper into her depths.

And pinning her there, Friderick began to fuck her, slow, steady slams of his member deep into her depths, shuddering her hard against the wall behind. The thin fabric of his banner would prove some comfort however but not for long, as his motions increased in swiftness and strength, ramming into her and the wall behind. A scone meant to hold a candle shook on its nook. Dust fell from a ceiling corner. And Friderick gasped her name and continued to fuck her.
 
The sheer, peaceful, contentment was intoxicating. Jacqueline clung close to Friderick, reveling in the fading sensations of her body and in the feel of him holding her close. She gave a happy little murmur with the gentle kiss for her forehead. Though her eyes popped open as he spoke. She lifted her eyes up to him without moving her head as he lightly chided her for the noises she tended to make. Not so much the noise alone but the volume. She glanced down with a quietly muttered 'sorry' even as he said he enjoyed the noise but it needed better control. The near pout was interrupted with the firm squeeze to her rear which elicited a small 'eep' that lapsed into a soft giggle.

With that he was suddenly up and gone. She rolled to her side and propped herself up on an elbow as she watched him walk across the room. It was very difficult to lament the missing warmth of his body when the view was spectacular. Her head tilted curiously as he rifled in his packs and came back with a length of cloth. Come. It was a short, simple command. Her head tilted further, her eyes narrowing both curiously and suspiciously. After a moment of cautious indecision she pushed herself up and crawled across the bed. Jacqueline stood up on her knees, head craned up to look at him. The curious suspicion had only lessened, lingering in a slight crease of her brow. An excited little shiver raced her with his hands drifting down her hips, raising the fine hairs on her arms. The expression evaporated with his lips on hers. Hard and passionate, teeth and tongue meeting in a furious dance. Jacqeline pressed herself against him as the kiss lingered, her little hands resting on the hard ball of his shoulders.

They broke away and it took her a moment to catch her breath as he spoke of the cloth. A little dizzied from the kiss she didn't have the words to question it. Any last words? She cocked her head once more. Well perhaps some questions. "I-mnnn!" The second she opened her mouth to ask why it was necessary the cloth was roughly shoved into her mouth and tied tightly. She didn't resist it or reach back to try and untie it immediately, nor try to bite his finger when he poked the cloth to ensure it was seated well in her mouth. It was certainly a bit strange but if he thought it the best solution she didn't mind even if it made her uncomfortably aware of her own breathing. She sank her teeth into the cloth as told, the cloth dry and weirdly tacky against her tongue. Her body jumped from the suddenly made to the side of her rear, sending an excited tremor through her. She could certainly be his ride.

Once more he grabbed her and easily hefted her up from under her arms. For a moment she dangled there like a child's doll before pulled close to him. Her legs followed his guidance as she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. She tried to keep her legs around him but loose so he could move and guide her down, relying on the strength of their arms to keep her up. A little hiss sucked in through the cloth as she felt his length slide against her slit. She echoed his moan with one of her own, teeth clenching the cloth hard enough she could almost close her lips. Her weight eased him deeper inside and she stretched to accommodate him. She mumbled something that could have been 'oh God' but sounded more like 'no hah.' Jacqueline held tight as he moved, strong but perhaps a bit awkward with their bodies joined, until she felt her back collide with the cold wall. The hard shove against the wall drove him into her to the hilt, her eyes rolled back with the sudden and rough filling of her body. The cloth did its job, muffling the delighted, and perhaps slightly pained, cry. Turning what might have been sound to a whistling moan

Not quite just the wall. Her head broke from his, tilting back until she could see why the wall felt not quite like a wall. He had pinned her up against his banner. Well that would certainly maker her look at the banner differently every time she carried it for him from that moment on. She didn't have long to ponder it as he drew out and began a slow steady rhythm into her. Muffled moans and cries reverberated against the cloth in her mouth, quieting them but not outright silencing. Her cheek tucked against his as she held onto him tightly, letting that electric fire course through her with every hard thrust into her. It didn't take long for the rhythm to pick up, her cries getting higher and higher with the near frantic pace. For a brief moment she remembered the reason for the cloth and pushed down the sounds as best as she could, letting them rumbled in her throat.

The wall shuddered with the strength and ferocity he fucked her. Jacqueline broke back from him, pressing her head back to the wall and he rammed into her. Nails dug into his flesh again, her breath coming in short, sharp huffs and pants, the cloth managing to muffle the chorus of pleasure he wrought from her. His name danced against cloth and teeth, more like 'heh-hrih' than anything else. That pressure in her lower gut built again, her inner walls tightening around his length. It built with a greater speed yet trembled on that sweet, tormenting precipice to near pain.
 
It was so taboo, so immodest, to gag and bound a Duchy heiress like he did, but some primal part of Friderick enjoyed the sight and sound of it before him. Whether he had his face in her neck, or reared back to observe, he never ceased his thunderous pounding of his cock into her depths, pressing and shoving her against the wall and tapestry with each hard push. His hands were under her thighs and rear, keeping her boosted, though his bulk did more than enough to pin her leaner frame between it and the surface behind. It must be nice to be trapped between two hard places, the one in front of her warm, throbbing, and filling her depths up with a delicious stretch.

All of his power and stamina were unleashed for that final stretch of the race. While she was muffled, he had no issues regarding his own sounds. Hard grunting, hisses through clenched teeth, and exhaling furiously from his nostrils like some dragon, he ploughed her until the throbbing ball in the back of his groin could no longer be contained. Gasping as if burned, he began to paint her inner walls in his orgasm, the tendons of muscle beneath his taut, battle-scarred flesh dancing with each thrust and pull, glistening in the firelight under the faint sheen of sweat he emerged with.

Still, it was no effort to hold Jacqueline and keep her embraced to him. He was still embedded inside of her, shifting slowly, not wanting to lose any durability in his length, while he peppered her neck and cheeks with kisses. “You’re still so loud, my Lady.” He chided her softly with a grin, before turning and carrying her to the bed. He didn’t deposit her. With his knees, he clambered on, still holding Jacqueline, her feet not touching or even grazing the surface of the bed as he came to its center. On his knees, still locked in his sensual embrace with her, he began a second, more slower dance, grinding and rolling his hips against hers, rather than an outright bunny-race of a fuck.

Strong bodies molded together. One arm under her rear kept her balanced and glued to his torso. His other went behind her head, tucking her face to his neck, his own eyes closed as he focused solely on the rolling grind of his hips against hers. It was softer and a perfect way to end such a raunchy night, the first of many in this place, and when he gave her his fill again, he laid her down gently on the bed, removing her gag, and falling upon her with his own bulk to kiss and embrace. All until the sweet oblivion of sleep took them both in the naked heap that they were.

--

Friderick rubbed his hands together and pressed them to his cold, redden cheeks as he strode through the ankle-high snow at the rear of Gunther’s farm, the arrangement of protection made. It was barely two hours after dawn and despite their late night activities and relative comfort and the privacy of such, he allowed him and his squire no opportunity to sleep in or permit any sort of sloth pervading their true aim. It was the duty and virtue of a knight to lend a helping hand and repelling wolves from a poor farmer’s herd. In the winter, the animals weren’t permitted much movement and thus became easy, sitting targets for the predatory beasts. Hopefully, one or two losses to the pack would instill a memory of danger in this place.

And moreover, it will begin to teach Jacqueline – Squire Jacque Lancaster – a little about the mentality of a knight’s mind. Wolves attacked in packs. They flanked, used feints, and employed numbers to their advantage. It would teach Jacqueline some experience in dealing with such.

They would also be using lances for this, not their blades. Lances and their shields, including Jacqueline’s fancy tournament prize shield. Should hopefully teach her the basics of using a lance, how it felt in hand and how it moved in combat, the placement of weight and so forth. And he always made her hold the lance aloft, straight up, and no dragging the butt-end of it on the ground. It had to be kept a few inches above. He would be wrathful if he saw or heard it being dragged through the snow. If her arm ached, good. That was how she built strength and endurance with such a weapon.

“The old farmer said he would not only pay us in coin for any pelt we bring him, but permit us to take one of his chickens. Will make for a good supper.” Friderick noted as they patrolled the back fence of the farmer’s land. There was a gap, where weather along with wear and tear caused the durability of the fence to break. “This is where the wolves must enter. Fresh snow has covered up any recent tracks. We’ll wait here.” He said, taking a glance at the sun. They might be here all day. He asked the farmer to let his animals wander the snow covered yard, if he will. The sun was out and there was no wind, a rare good day in bleary winter. Hopefully the sounds might attract the predators too.

“Tell me about how your family hunts. I assume given your predilection, you probably attended some at least.” Friderick asked Jacqueline, inferring to how as a girl she shouldn’t be permitted on hunts with the men, but knowing her, she must have gotten to go along with one or two. “You ever hunted wolves? It’s not like stags or boars. They can take a hit. And they will aim for the neck, so hold your shield higher.” He said, lifting his leg to kick roughly at her shield, chiding her to keep it up, even if they were momentarily resting.
 
Friderick gave no quarter, ramming into her with strength and vigor. He was free with his own, arguably, quieter sounds which were music to her ears. her legs had long ceased trying to hold onto him, giving him full range of motion. She relied on the strength of their clutching arms and the sturdy wall behind her to keep up. Her head swam with the feeling, heat racing through her veins and clouding her mind to anything but Friderick. Nails dug and scraped against his shoulders, that sweet and near painful pressure building. She whimpered into the cloth from the sensations until her body finally relented. Electricity shot through her even as Friderick gave a sudden, hard thrust into her. She lapsed into shivers as that wave of heat rushed over her even as he gave his last few pumps into her body.

Jacqueline's chest rose and fell with erratic, shaking breaths as their orgasms waned. Her arms trembled against him even as she still clung to his shoulders. The gentle, almost amused, chiding brought a huffing laugh. She didn't even try to respond. Never mind the cloth, she had few words anyways. Her back left the hard wall and her legs weakly wrapped around his waist, the pair still intimately connected as he bore her weight across the room and to the bed. The small movements sent rippling waves, a ghost of the orgasm, up her. She shivered and huffed a happy sigh. She thought he would set her down and would be time to sleep. God above she was wrong.

A hiss sucked through the cloth as he rolled his hips against her, teasing the already sensitive flesh. She didn't resist his hand as he tucked her head to his neck. She nuzzled in close, shuttering her eyes, surrounded by the warm iron of his body. Little sighs and moans drifted between the cloth, far quieter with the gentle grind into her body. It was so strange and different and wonderful. Little hands burrowed into his hair as her hips gave little rolls to match his. He brought her to that sweet edge once more, the sensation so different. More like a sudden waterfall of warm water rushing over her. Spent and in a state of utter bliss she barely wanted to let go of him even as he laid her down and removed the cloth. While she wasted no time in giving him happy little kisses it wasn't long before she was sound asleep, her body molded so close to his they might be a single person.

The morning was difficult but Jacqueline made no complaints. Her eyes were heavy with sleep and she yawned widely as they trudged through the snows. She really hoped the snow wouldn't get much deeper than what it already was. Already she was chilled even under a woolen cloak. They, or rather Friderick, had already spoken to the farmer who was more than thrilled to have a knight and his squire try to defend his herds. Trouble was one couldn't just shout a challenge to the wolves and they would appear to do battle. They could very well spend the whole day out there, even with the bait of the herd, and never see a wolf. She held her lance up as Friderick demanded, suffering his wrath by letting it rest on her shoulder once. By God it was heavy though! And so unwieldy. She understood why he made the demands but it didn't make her arm ache any less.

They found the spot where the pack was likely entering the yard. Despite his decision to wait there she kept the lance up. She turned and looked up at his as he asked after her family's hunts. Her head cocked at his assumption that she went despite being a girl. "I tried a time or two...snuck out and caught up to the hunting party. Lingered back so they might not notice. Father wouldn't have minded I stay but he knew mother would be furious," she said with a small laugh. While a very proper lady her mother was a force to be reckoned with. "So...no the most I have hunted is rabbits and squirrels." Even then she could count her animal kills on one hand. Good with a sword she might be but she was shit with a bow.

She listened as he spoke of hunting wolves, nodding some. It made sense of course. Thicker coats and hides would be harder for a weapon to go through. Of course they were more likely to attack and fight back than run. Though she had heard boar was equally dangerous to hunt. More than one nobleman had lost his life or limb on a boar hunt. Distracted by the chat her arms started to give under the weight of lance and shield. With the rough kick she held it back up, her arms and back groaning in protest. "I feel that, by the times the wolves show, my arms will be useless," she groused quietly.

It would be a longer day than either of them bargained for. Jacqueline was absolutely frigid, at least her numb arms could hardly feel the weight of the shield. They would be waiting until dusk when wolves were more likely to hunt. Jacqueline yawned and shivered. The farmer had been kind enough to bring them a bit of a meal to eat but it hadn't gone far and her stomach rumbled. She yawned again, tired and near frozen(despite it being barely into winter) but stopped mid yawn with the keening, piercing cry of a wolf. Other voices joined in the chilling chorus. Suddenly she wasn't so sleepy and cold anymore.

In the distant tree line shadows moved. The occasional glint of glowing eyes cutting through the branches. Jacqueline gripped the haft of her lance tightly. There shouldn't be a need to be afraid. They could handle wolves. Right? She took a long, slow breath as one wolf then two then five slunk from the darkness of the trees. At first they seemed simply cautious and curious. Sizing up the humans that stood between them and an easy meal. The largest of the group stood out front. A low warning growl started, passing down the group until it reached a fevered pitch of furious snarling with lips curled, fangs glinting in the twilight.

With no warning or sign the leader rushed forward and the pack was quick to follow. Jacqueline braced for the attack. The leader went right for Friderick, seeing the larger human as a threat. Two others joined with the remaining two went for Jacqueline. She lowered the tip of the lance and drove the point forward. The wolf she aimed for dodged while the other slammed into her side, teeth and claws scraping the shield. She swung the lance to the side and caught the first wolf across the muzzle. It yelped as the tip dug out a chunk of its nose. She pushed against the heavy wolf, snarling and clawing at her shield, knocking it back. The wolves circled. She made sure to keep one wolf in line with her shield and the other with her lance and waited. They lunged as a unit and Jacqueline lunged forward. Her lance struck true, right through one wolf's throat. Though the victory was short lived as the weight of the other beast sent her tumbling in the snow. It snapped and snarled as she pushed her shield up with both hands. Slobber landed on her face as she tried to push the beast off of her, its full weight on her shield trying desperately to get at her face and throat while its companion whined and gurgled its death rattle.
 
“Your arms will be useless after a hour of real, gritty fighting in a true battle. Learn to get used to it.” Friderick retorted to Jacqueline’s grumble. In the cold quietness of the yard, no whisper would escape him. To keep warm in the hours of watch, Friderick participated in the same drill as her, carrying spear and shield, though he endured the ache with more composure and discipline than she. He felt it burn just as much, but he said nothing, forcing himself to be the example. And of course, to impress his little lover…

To fight off the cold, one had to keep moving, and he had no squabbles about forcing the heiress to endure such menial task. She might understand the movements then of sentries on the walls of her future home better one day. Understand their nature, their system of rotation, their purpose and stratagems and watch words. And it might lead to grasping the concept of walls and bastions and towers and gate houses and all the means necessary to maintain and construct such defenses. And a host of other things as one ruler to another should impart. He felt the usual tenure of a noble squire of only two years was far too short a time to teach all.

And in the midst of his musings over lessons and teachings…the crying of wolves!

A call to arms if there ever was one! “Esquire, stand to!” Friderick bellowed, moving his way across the snowy field towards her. “Do not blink or look away. Do not show your teeth. Stand firm.” He hissed as he joined her, quickly trying to get a count on the number of predators in the woods. They kept moving, roving, jumbling up the count, making him perhaps count the same twice or three times, or miss one completely. The pack was indeed sizable. The largest were first, smaller at the rear, ready to scavenge or pick what they could. There would be no meal for them tonight.

The leader came on and Friderick braced his feet, shield first, lance at his side. He shifted to meet its onrush, twirling his body and the spear overhead in one hand as he swung and hacked at the leader’s neck, deflecting it aside. Another leapt and he rammed his shield into its face, bloodying its nose, but as he recovered from the bash to bring his spear arm to bear, the third wolf pounced and bit into his forearm. He hissed and dropped the weapon and his shield, grasping the head of the creature with his other hand and with a cry, peeled it right off and flung it back.

The one with the bloodied nose had slinked away, while the leader and the third sulked, snarling and circling him. Reinforcements were hanging back, still waiting to see the result of the battle. Friderick grabbed his spear, grasping with two hands, beginning to thrust wildly in the direction of the wolves to recover his shield next and keep the initiative. The pack’s focus was definitely on him. He caught the smaller beast in its side several times and another that pierced clean through with a massive cry from Friderick, the full force of his mighty arm behind the blow. He drew back and aimed for the leader, who was quicker and learned from the dance. It leapt, avoided the thrust and then snapped and caught the spear in its jaws, a foot beneath the head. It growled and pulled, nearly wrenching it from Friderick’s arm.

Grasping his shield firmly, Friderick pulled the spear as mightily as he can towards him, only to pounce himself and bring the rim of the shield down heavily on the leader’s head. He slammed the beast into the ground and crushed its skull, his weight behind the downward thrust of the shield. The leader gave one final whine and collapsed, laying still.

Turning, he saw Jacqueline struggling beneath the snarling grasp of a mighty grey beast. With his spear in hand he charged up and gored the creature right through its side, launching it off of Jacqueline to land beside her. He then wrenched his spear clear, a gurgle of blood following the gleaming spearhead under the sun, which proceeded to land in a spray across Jacqueline’s chest and over Friderick’s boots.

He just looked down at her for a moment, a tender look of concern. She seemed unharmed. Safe. Good-

A vicious snarl rang out as a wolf leapt onto Friderick’s back in the collapse of concentration. It bite into his shoulder and he did a brief dance before he flung it off. His spear dispatched it quickly through the throat. Five dead in a pitched fight. The one with the bloodied nose and several smaller specimens had retreated into the woods, though they gazed back often, circling as if planning another assault. Friderick, panting and dripping blood from forearm and shoulder, stomped back to the breach point, standing in the midst of the carcass.

“On your feet, Esquire.” He said without looking. “How did it feel to face death in the face?” He then asked her, more quietly. The wolves made their final retreat into the woods. This meal had proven too fatal for them. Five pelts. A good hunk of cash. Perhaps they could give four and keep one as a trophy.
 
Jacqueline growled as she struggled against the massive wolf atop her. The beast likely weighed twice what she did, shield included. It’s gleaming teeth came uncomfortably close to her face a few times too many. Her arms were already heavy and sore from holding shield and lance all day. Friderick bore them with no apparent issue. Impressive of course but he was far bigger than her and far more used to it. Fear was starting to settle in her chest. She wouldn’t be able to lift the wolf off her and even if she did then what? Her arms shook as she tried in vane to push the beast off, the powerful jaws getting closer to face and throat.

In a blink the beast was thrown off her, a spear in its side. Jacqueline’s head whipped to the side to see Friderick standing over her. The last rays of twilight gleamed on the spear in his hand, red with blood. He looked like a hero of songs standing there. Relief rushed over her, arms dropping to relax, uncaring of the spurts of blood from the beast. The relief was joined by a tiny smile as she saw that gentle look of concern. Her mouth opened to give thanks but her eyes shot wide as another wolf suddenly launched itself onto Friderick’s back. She didn’t even have time to shout a warning before the beast sank its fangs into Friderick’s shoulder. Jacqueline scrabbled for her lance but she had barely gotten hold of it before Friderick threw the beast off him and gored it through the neck.

The remnants of the pack skulked and circled before deciding the meal wasn’t worth it and took off into the trees. Even without Friderick’s command Jacqueline pushed herself to her feet. Her clothes damp from blood and snowmelt. Though at least it wasn’t her own blood. Blue eyes settled on Friderick, roaming from his bloodied arm to his shoulder. His soft question made her huff a light sigh. “As frightening as the last two times,” she said as she made her way over to him, letting her gaze drop to the bloodied corpses around them. There was part of her that enjoyed the fight even if it was terrifying and not just for her own life. Though it was the way of things she was starting to realize the real terror was losing someone important. They had yet to come away from a fight unscathed and it seemed they were alternating the injured party each time. Her brows pulled together a moment but she’d have to ponder that later.

“I’ll fetch the farmer,” she said eventually. Hardly waiting for a response she trotted off. Friderick wasn’t alone long before the farmer and Jacqueline came back. Jacqueline led William and Wingfoot while Gunther led an old plow horse. The wolves were trussed up and hitched up to the horses to be dragged back to the barn.

“Many thanks to the both of ya,” Gunther said as they trudged to the barn so he could gut and skin the wolves. “Hope these beasts don’t come botherin’ for a while now,” he added with a small chuckle. He was perfectly glad to allow them one pelt, though obviously wouldn’t give them the coin for that one. Though he did offer to skin and have it tanned for them. Should be able to drop the cured pelt off to them in a few days. Keeping his promise of a chicken he brought one already drained and plucked plus a small satchel of coins for their trouble and the four pelts left to him. “Don’t be strangers now. Might come callin’ if them wolves come back.”

Jacqueline was unusually quiet as they headed back to the inn. She was quick to put the horses up and take the chicken to the kitchens to eat. The chicken would take time but when she had a small satchel and a bundle of clean linen. “I should like to head to the market and put together a decent kit for wounds sometime,” she said as she unpacked a small mortar and pestle along with some packets of herbs. They already had some salves and needles with gut thread. She pushed the short table near the couch away and restoked the fire before patting the floor in front of the couch for him to sit. Jacqueline helped him ease off his mail shirt, tunic, and under shirt. At least the mail had protected him from worse wounds, she wouldn’t need to sew him up this time.

First his arm which she cleaned up with some witch hazel and thyme, it would sting but it would keep out ill humors. Some salve was dabbed on the bites and finally all was wrapped up. She hopped on the couch, sitting behind him, to do the same for his shoulder. Her legs hung on either side of him, scootching in close. She had to stretch, wrapping her arms around his chest, to secure the length of linen. Her little hands were gentle even if her mouth was set tight as she cleaned him up and tended the wounds. He had lost his focus in his concern for her and suffered for it. She tied off the wrappings, finally done, and tucked her arms under his to wrap around his chest, laying her chin on his uninjured shoulder.

“Facing death would be easier when it’s just your own death to worry about,” she said eventually. “Then again…it’s even easier to not be afraid when you have someone you…ah…don’t want to see getting hurt.”
 
As frightening as the last twenty times Friderick corrected for himself. When the beast had leapt on his back, the spike of fear through his heart had been very real. Such was combat, the chaos and uncertainty, and all this training could prepare one for is dealing with those consequences. He nodded to her suggestion to fetch the farmer, Gunther, while he remained on watch. There was of course no need, as the cold air began to kiss his wounds as the warmth of adrenaline left him, and the throbbing ache began to grow in his arm and the rear of his shoulder. The farmer returned, with Jacqueline bringing the horses, and he smiled inwardly at her diligence. Not having to even be told.

“If you do require our services, we are at the Sweet Zebra. Ask for Alnerwick.” He told Gunther and accepted his payment of coin and chicken.

On the way back to the kitchen, there was little to discuss, as the sun faded out for the evening, though there were still many hours left in the day. He wondered if Jacqueline felt any differently about slaughtering animals than she did men in combat. Would be strange given they were about to feast on the flesh of a dead animal, paid to render other animals dead. “You can go tomorrow during the day, while I seek us new work.” He agreed to her request, dressing down his gear and harness, laying it aside. She came over to help, as mandated by her position, and it was easier with four hands to remove his mail and top garments to reveal the extent of the wounds.

They were not fatal, but the risk of infection was always possible, and they had to be mended quickly. Usually it was an affair he conducted on his own, but Jacqueline’s quiet acceptance of the task was heartening to see. He watched her with a faint half smile as she tended to his arm, where the wolf teeth had driven some of the iron rings of his mail deeply into his flesh, leaving cuts and scabs that were leaking faint rivers of blood. After the application of some ointment, she moved onto his back, fitting easily behind him and the back rest, reaching around the bulk of his chest to tie the bandages. Almost as if she was embracing him from behind. It felt nice, and she seemed to guess his wishes by soon resting her cheek to his other shoulder.

He leaned to one side to break her hold, allowing him to turn his gaze and catch sight of her. “You are becoming wise, my Lady Lancaster.” He said with risen eyebrows, shifting to the side and letting her escape the trap of his body and couch. “You are starting to see some prime realities of the battlefield. Danger to oneself is easy to face, but hardened men will lose their wits when they see horror or tragedy befall a friend or comrade. Nothing inflames the passions greater than loss. You have a good heart to think so, my Lady.” Friderick smiled at her, before thrusting his arm out, flicking his fingers and pointing before him.

“Are you hurt? We must tend to yours now. You were knocked on your behind and nearly had your throat ripped.” The Baron pointed out to her, not wanting her to go without tending in her selflessness. “Listen to me now, though. Your good heart could also be a weapon in the hands of the enemy, if they see you are capable of this loss of wit and focus when loss is thrust upon you. They can use it against you, should a loved one or someone you care about come under their aim. I am not saying be heartless or cold, but you must guard such knowledge of yourself. Do you understand me?” He lectured her about the nature of warfare. And all is fair in war, as they say, as it is in…love.

It didn’t seem as if Jacqueline had been hurt too badly anywhere. Nothing more than a bruise on her back where she had landed at most. He had her fetch his tunic. It was not like summer and autumn, where he could spend his evenings without garment above the waist. “As for your conduct during this engagement, I give you two demerits. One, you were knocked off your feet, which I guess is something we have to get used to, given your…size.” Friderick said, looking her up and down, and then up again, meeting her eyes as he began to smile. And stand, to further contrast her size in comparison to his, and no doubt many challengers she might face.

“The second, when confronted with two foes, do not wait for them to come to you, dividing your shield and lance between them. Pick one, and take the fight to them as quickly as you can, and retreat only when the other is upon you. Keep the initiative and take it when you can.” Friderick pointed out to her, clapping a hand on her shoulder and giving her a squeeze. Overall, she had done well enough. Getting better, still room for improvement. Experience will teach her awareness. Soon it would not be so tunnel-vision for her, but as a wide, open gaze, taking in everything, and focusing where precision action was required.

“Now get that chicken in the pot. My Lady.” Friderick concluded with a very sarcastic smirk.
 
Jacqueline would have been perfectly content to sit there longer, her arms wrapped around Friderick in the peace of their quarters. Friderick didn’t stay still long, moving to break her hold and lean to the side and catch her eye. The light compliment made her smile as she slid out from behind him to sit next to him on the small couch. She listened as he spoke, nodding some in understanding. They had both done foolish things in the few scuffles they’d been in together. She wasn’t innocent in making an error and suffering for it. Though when he motioned for her to stand before him she blinked up at him and his demand to inspect her for damage.

“I am fine,” she said with an amused snort and argument even as she stood up before him as he wanted. She let him inspect her as he continued on with a lecture. While she nodded her head, understanding his meaning, she honestly didn’t know what she would do when placed in such a position. His inspection would turn up little, faint bruises and nothing more. She fetched his tunic when asked though it was a real shame to see him covered again. Her brows quirked at him as he spoke of her demerits in the encounter. The first was hardly fair. Even the smallest wolf in the pack likely weighed as much as she did. She watched his eyes wander up and down then up again to catch her eye with a smile. Jacqueline grinned back with a little laugh even as he stood to prove just how small she was. Most of the combatants they would face would be bigger than her though she had proven herself capable of handling them, for the most part anyways.

The second point was taken with a touch more seriousness. Her brows pulled to a thoughtful frown as she nodded to the advice. “I will keep that in mind,” she said with a firm nod that dissolved into a smile as he clapped his large hand to swallow her shoulder and give a little squeeze. His command about the chicken and the smirk brought on a little laugh and she stepped back to give a flamboyantly exaggerated bow. “At once my liege.” She was quick to trot away and get their fresh chicken supper from the kitchens.

A few peaceful days passed them by. The letters they had written were sent off and Friderick was able to get his stipend from her father as well as his own coffers if he wanted. With that coin they would be well set for quite a few weeks. With a small break from training Jacqueline when to the market alone to put together a better kit for their future travels. While she would have preferred packets of herbs, flasks, plain oils and lotions to make her own concoctions it wasn’t entirely practical. She settled for a very small mortal and pestle, some packets of fresh herbs and a couple different salves and pressed oils instead.

“I am…ahem…also hoping to get a…a special tea?” She drew out the word tea to the old crone at the stall with raised brows. The woman furrowed her brows at the ‘young man’ curiously.

“’Fraid you’ll have to be more specific young man,” she said, her jowls wagging as she spoke.

“Well a-a tea for…women to…ah….prevent, you know, life…?” Jacqueline felt her ears burn, glancing around to see if anyone was in earshot. There hadn’t been much cause for worry, her courses came as they usually did, but she would rather take a step of precaution. Nothing would derail her secret quicker than pregnancy. No need to worry Friderick any more than he already fretted about given their…situation.

“Ahhhh whore’s tea,” the woman said her frown deepening. Jacqueline froze, an uncomfortable pit of his settling in her gut even as her face burned. The woman’s stern face melted away into a mirthful cackle. “I am teasing you young lord. Yes yes…I know all too well the, heh heh, fancies of you lordlings.” She continued her cackling as she rummaged around in well weathered cabinets.

“It…it’s not for me,” she said, shocked into response. The woman picked up her head a moment with a quizzical frown.

“Well that much is obvious…for some poor country girl you’ve been taking to your bed. Good of you to buy it for her,” she said with a dignified sniff before going back to searching.

“Ah…y-yes that’s it,” Jacqueline said with a nervous laugh, her face still matching the shade of her hair.

“Ah hah…here we are. Now I warn you…take this exactly as I say. Dangerous stuff this is,” she said as she handed over a small satchel of herbs as she gave directions. Just three leaves, three exactly, mixed with preference of tea leaves. No more than once every fortnight.

“Many thanks kind lady,” Jacqueline said with a nod and handed over the coin for everything she purchased.

The woman cackled again, “Lady. I rather like that. You take care now and try not to break the poor girl’s heart.”

“Ah…yes…of course.” Jacqueline gave an awkward grin before gathering up the items and heading off, ears still aflame. She was resolute that she’d far rather be soundly beaten in the yard by Friderick than endure that interaction ever again.

After an afternoon of more training Jacqueline was careful to make up the tea, trying not to be obvious with the potent addition and certainly not mix up the cups if Friderick wanted tea as well. It was a pleasant few days. Both of them were well on the mend and her stitches were able to be removed at long last.
 
The days after the skirmish with the wolves passed in the slow candor that only winter could afford. Cold, brisk mornings were tempered by vigorous training sessions with the sword, whereas noon was spent in exploration of the city and its many districts and neighbourhoods, from the slums of the poor to the guarded villas of the rich. Whoever required work, Baron Friderick of Alnerwick put in his name as a contact, offering to do any number of jobs from protection, escort, and enforcing. Of course, they were not the only hedge knights and wandering sellswords who were quartering in Pearlpoint. It would take time to build up a reputation.

He refused to partake in any luxury or joy until they had accomplished things of note. He drilled Jacqueline hard with the lance, instructing her through repeated routines of handling, thrusting, and general movement and awareness, stabbing at strawmen until her arm ached. It was the only way, a stroke practised a thousand times and a thousand times more, in order to achieve any note of perfection. It must be an extension of her arm. But there was only so much she could train before her reasonable limits were reached. And day after day would grow into a boring monotony. They needed regular work, to garner real experience, and soon enough, they scored a big job.

Bellmoral was a rich and fertile estate not far from the city, a fief long held under deed by the Ysembert dynasty, a poor and failing noble family. As was the custom, such deeds usually fell to public auction once the line of owners died out, where new families could acquire such grounds in order to elevate their social positions from mere commoners to noble. It was rare to see such lands come up in the city registers and mercantile opportunists with greedy hands looked to the day when such titles would become available, as only they had the funds to acquire it. And the ambitions to reach above their determined class and rank in life.

Some were not inclined to wait. Bellmoral was within grasp, as the Ysembert clan was fast running out of scions. The main line had long died out. Childless cousins and sheer bad luck plagued the next inheritors. Worse was the untimely deaths. A hunting accident. A mining endeavor. A rickety balcony that plunged one Ysembert down to his death. People began to say the line was cursed. Others, braver of speech and thought, whispered that someone was clearing house.

The next and final inheritor was one such intellectual. Lady Emlyn l’Amie, a fifty year old widower, with two daughters, yet a distant relative of the last true Ysembert, reputably the sister of a grandfather, long married off, and now with the death of all trueborn males, the title now fell to her. Both her daughters were wed and lived out of city, and it was sent to them that their mother had claim to such lands, which could come to them, if they arrived at the city by spring to claim it. Others had different notions. That if Lady Emlyn did not live before they arrived, the claim would be put to public auction.

She could not be allowed to survive the winter! They knew it. She knew it.

She lived alone with some aged handmaidens. Her husband had died over twenty years ago and she never remarried, though she maintained a reputation of a socialite, and hosted many gatherings among her friends. It was one of the servants who sought out Friderick and his squire, knowing the name Lancaster, and requesting their services to help police and guard her health and personage during a gathering she was hosting, during the Winter Solstice.

Her villa was vast and rich. A great fire burned in the central hall, with three animals staked and gutted that would serve as the main course. There were two floors to the home, positioned around the central hall, though the upper floors were forbidden to guests and all servants save one, her most trusted Genevote, alongside servants Belsant and the manservant Reinhold. Also present was her son-in-law’s brother, Jeffry l’Augure, apparently a man down on his luck with gambling debts and poor business acumen. There was Pearlpoint auditor Henriot Mignon, former Pearlpoint marshal Folcard le Tenace, neighbors Erart and Wimark, along with their families, and fellow socialite Rohesia le Riche, along with her aspiring son, Joel.

None were landed nobility like Friderick and Jacque. That was how Lady Emlyn could trust them. They already had rank and title that was above the deed to Bellmoral. But everyone else…were commoners or common-born to some degree, however wealthy or well established their families or professions might be.

Lady Emlyn flatly told them before the party. If anyone was going to kill her, it would be one of these folks. Maybe not directly, but helping to facilitate it.

They all had something to gain. Belsant had an amputee son whom she had to support. Reinhold was a drunkard who might easily betray his mistress for a fat coin purse. Her son-in-law’s brother Jeffry might take a bribe if he saw some advantage out of it. Henriot Mignon, who knew the city’s finances quite intimately, could be paid to help facilitate the auction of the land by aiding in Emlyn going to her grave. Former marshal Folcard had been a friend to Emyln’s husband, though they had quarrelled in the last days of his life, and could hold bitterness and resentment over past insults. Erart lived next door with a vastly growing family and the loss of a neighbour would open up her villa to acquirement. Wimark was an unknown, a man who recently moved into the district, with it being unclear how he ever earned any of his wealth to do so, having no name or even someone to vouch for him in the city. And Rohesia le Riche, and her unmarried son Joel, was looking to make him eligible for matches. The best way to do that was to garner him some property to support his name, as the boy was relatively dull and stupid in all other things in life.

All their ambitions could be accomplished…by killing Emlyn and acquiring her deeds, before any of her daughters could return to the city to renew their claim to the land.

Everyone was dressed nicely. All smiles. Perfumed and bejeweled. Friderick and Jacqueline were armored, swords at their belts, and it was declared that only they could carry weapons. After a brief round of introductions and some preliminary conversation and drinks, he joined with Jacqueline after making his rounds. Everyone had guarded tongues, speaking often in double meaning, smiling when they insulted, or appearing humble when criticized.

“I was just upstairs.” Friderick reported to Jacqueline in a whisper. “Someone else was there. They…leaked something. Oil. Smells like bear oil.” He said, showing two fingers before Jacqueline’s face, the faint smudge of something amber hued on his finger tips. Bear oil was used to slick hair and beards, of which almost every man in this room had. One of them…had gone somewhere they were not supposed to. “Go and mingle. Have something to eat. I will guard the lady. See if you can’t…smell this, on anyone. Try the marshal, or the young boy, Joel. Joel or Jeffry? Gods, they are both such creaky wheels for conversation.” Friderick rolled his eyes.
 
After endless days of training, of which Jacqueline was not opposed despite sore and stiff muscles, they were approached for another job. When Friderick told her of it her brows raised curiously. Of anything she hadn’t anticipated such an intrigue over one estate. Lancaster was well tucked away and, despite social standing, she hadn’t seen much of courtly intrigues but what she had seen wasn’t entirely impressive. Bored and scraping nobility, scratching at anything for notoriety. Still the potential of an assassin hired to ensure the estate would fall to auction was interesting. Never mind that it would add to their coffers for the winter and be a bit of a break from training. Not that she would have much say in the matter anyways.

The night of the party they were armed and armored. She hadn’t worn her armor, really her brother’s armor, since the squire melee. It felt heavy and cumbersome. Perhaps she should start wearing it while they trained. Noisy it might be but she felt encumbered by the weight of it. The party was…dull as most parties were. A lot of chatter, insults hurled between toothy grins. Just a squire she might be but the Lancaster name bore a little more weight than the average squire might possess. Any other squire might be passed over as some well bred servant to a knight, instead she found herself in polite conversation with a few attendees during the introductions. Based on what they had been told anyone in the room could be the one after the lady Emlyn’s life. On first pass no one seemed particularly suspicious of course, people like these were well skilled in their deceptions.

A brief moment of respite from dull, polite conversation about weather and estates through a gritted smile. Very brief as Friderick appeared at her side. Her eyes flicked up to him then down to the oil on his finger tips. As he spoke she took his hand and leaned over to the smell the oil. A dark, musky scent, not particularly pleasant in her opinion. She glanced about the room, nearly every man in attendance had their slicked back likely with such a tincture. “Everyone here is a creaky wheel. Oh how lovely the weather has been, my did you hear about the new shipments?” She said under her breath with a huffed sigh. At least the odor of the oil was strong enough she wouldn’t have to stick her nose in their hair.

She decided to approach Joel first. While she was no world class puzzle solver she wanted to eliminate the boy first. If bear oil was found then the suspect would likely be a man but she wasn’t convinced Joel had the mental capacity for intrigue, assassin plots and the like. His mother would be the suspect but, as far as she knew, women did not use suck oil in their hair. Jacqueline edge her way over to where Joel stood, gazing towards the fire and the roasting game. “Fine quarry for the winter,” she commented with a little sip of wine. “I find there is more sport in hunting spring game. Easy to take down a beast while it wanders and scrabbles for food, don’t you think?” She took a long inhale to huff a sigh, trying to detect any odor of the oil on the boy.
 
“Behave.” Friderick warned with a glower. Yes, technically Jacqueline, or Jacque, Lancaster outranked them, but it was her own image that she was setting. These people could potentially have much more powerful and influential relatives, patrons, and connections. Enmities made here could possibly last a lifetime. And moreover, being a Squire, and therefore duty bound to serve others, she would be goaded and needled, in spite of her social rank. He needed her to have some thick skin, especially in a case like this. It might be a friendly party, but someone here was trying to kill their ward. And by association, that would mean having to kill them as well.

He chose to remain with Lady Emlyn, who regaled him with the smalldoings of her grandchildren, and he politely endured the talk. After all, after Jacqueline, one of her grandchildren might be in need of squiring. And she stood to inherit a wealthy chunk of land. Might make a good client after Jacqueline finished hers…and went off to fulfill her destiny as heiress to a great Duchy.

Joel le Riche was the son of a Pearlpoint landowner, from a mercantile family that rose from rags to nobility via great wealth. His great-grandfather had been a pauper. Joel was the first in the family to be born after the acquisition of nobility. It gave him great haughtiness and dreams of ambitions, now that a whole new world opened up to him. Immense wealth, power, and handsome good looks. Soft hands. He never did any real work. And those who did had the spirits of servants. Like the Esquire. They were about the same age, the two of them. And it might be clear from the onset that he bathed twice a day, despite never doing any labour of any kind, hard or soft.

He looked at Jacque with a strange look at first. Ah, yes, hunting. Masculine activities. I’m masculine. “When I have my own land, I’m going to have only boars to hunt. Makes for a good challenge. Like clashing spears, eh squire?” Joel said, elbowing Jacque in the side, wine splashing over his sleeve in the other hand. “Is that what you and your knight get up to?” He laughed and took a drink. “I’m joking, don’t so grumpy. You do have a skinny figure. I can’t imagine you fighting at all. Why bother? Let the oafs do it for you. Mother’s got these two bodyguards. As big as your knight there. But they live in some smelly hovel so she sprays them with this lavender perfume every time we go out. She’s real picky about commoner smell. She-“

“Joel!” His mother snapped, coming into the picture. “Oh, Lord Lancaster, what a wonderful surprise.” She said, twinkle in her eyes as she looked over the eligible bachelor twin. Who also had an eligible bacheloress twin. She didn’t even try to hide her ambitions. Little boy like Jacque could easily be bowled over, right? And besides, she was an elder. And the scent of lavender was thick on her. “You must excuse my boy, he is still learning what it means to be a perfect little gentleman. But tell us, how is your family? Your father? I haven’t seen him since we were little children. He used to always give me these cute little roses.” A lie, but who could prove otherwise? “And your…sister? How is she? I hear she’s becoming quite the little lady nowadays. She would make an excellent match for my boy here. Tall and handsome to match her regality. And your father can make up for all his little promises so long ago.” She grinned teasingly, though it was all too real behind the giggles.

Not that she expected any sort of answer or promise of commitment from Jacques. But it made her feel good. Her son, eligible for a powerful Lady’s hand in a prestigious family. That was good repute to spread around! Joel just looked bored and embarrassed. He waited until his mother drifted off before leaning back to Jacques. “I prefer the whores, though if your sister doesn’t mind…” he winked. “I know of a good place a few blocks from here. We could get away you know. Enjoy some real fun and nothing with these wrinkly old women. How do you know Aunty Emlyn by the way?” He asked curiously. Not his real aunty, but the friendship between her and his mother gave that sort of intimacy, if only to suck up in the hopes of gifts and favors.
 
The strange look set Jacqueline on edge a moment. Did he suspect anything. She was wearing armor, there was no way he could suspect anything. Not to mention the fact he was likely as bright as tarnished silver. Her hand gripped her cup of wine for a moment until he spoke and she relaxed, somewhat anyways. He would only have boars? What was he going to do? Arrest the other animals for trespassing? “Well enough,” she answered quietly with his question of spears, nudged a little over from the elbow into her armor. Though her body stiffened and her ears grew red at his following quip. If only the boy knew. She managed a weak, certainly unamused laugh at his little joke before he launched into commenting on her size and frame. Her eyes strained with the effort not to roll them at the boy. If she was certain before he couldn’t be the person they were looking for she was sure of it now.

The piercing cry from a woman snapped Jacqueline’s head around as the woman flitted into view. The cloud of lavender oil on the woman set a headache in Jacqueline’s temple, her eyes watering a little. The barrage of questions about her family made her head jerk back and eyes narrow suspiciously. She barely heard of the woman but apparently she had known her father? Jacqueline was no sleuth but she smelled that lie even through the noxious fog of lavender perfume. “My family is quiet well, thank you for the kind regards. I was not aware you knew my father so very, very long ago,” she said with a saccharine smile. “My sister is also well, she should be taking her holy vows before the moon wanes,” she added pleasantly enough, fully ignoring the other brazen comments. Though the woman perhaps didn’t even hear the answer as she floated off once again. A blessing though the heavy lavender still lingered in her absence like some foul poltergeist.

She nearly jumped when Joel spoke up again mentioning whores. “I can’t see why my sister would mind,” she said with feigned confusion. This little shit…she grumbled in her head. “Oh various social circles, you know how it is with aristocracy, long lines of fine breeding,” she said in a quiet attempt at a dig. New money was not well regarded by long standing lines after all. “I am certain I had met her ages ago at one of our many, many balls or masques. When the baron and I arrived it would have been impolite not to pay a call and so, here were are. I have taken up far too much of your time, enjoy the evening.” With a short, barely bent bow she excused herself from Joel.

Briefly she scanned the room. Friderick had mentioned speaking with the marshal. Might as well give it a try and see if she smelled the oil on him. She walked languidly through the crowed, not wanting it to seem she was making beelines for certain guests. A former marshal, she had to imagine there was a sense of pride in that and most old men were fond of their better years also very keen to critique the younger fellows in their old positions. She only hoped the marshal was like most other old men. Jacqueline lightly lamented being dressed as a boy. Even she would admit it was far easier to get old men to babble about their achievements if one was a girl who at least pretended what they had to say was of great interest.

From a short distance she feigned looking around at nothing in particular before let her eyes fall on the marshal. With a look of polite interest she walked over. “Ah, I had hoped I would be able to speak with the esteemed Marshal of Pearlpointe, former of course. I’d heard Pearlpointe was once the envy of well protected ports and was curious to get your thoughts on how to properly secure a trade port in a cove.”
 
Folcard of Pearlpointe, an elderly man in his fifties, who had served in the militia and armed forces of the seaside city for over four decades, from knight, to captain, and finally the Marshall who commanded all wings of the city’s defences. He scoured the roads of bandits, ensured the protection of merchants and warehouses, and famously battled pirates on a year to year basis, rooting them out of their havens and island holdfasts. Though he had retired from the role, he still wore the gear and harness of that high office, an honor permitted to him by the city’s ruling council and the current Marshall, so gracious were they to Folcard for his deeds. He was a proud man. And one who had no qualms about making his thoughts known, to all and anyone who would listen.

He was fuming over some of the finger foods, especially the clamed oysters, which his fingers found hard to pry apart for the succulent goodness within. His grumbling eyes had been seeking a servant who might relieve him of such wasteful burdens, when instead they fell on the squire. Dutifully, the young lad made his way over, though irked him at once by needless flattery. “Damn clams.” He muttered, quirking a bushy grey eyebrow at Esquire Lancaster when he inquired about securing a port. Lancaster? That Lancaster? Hah! Folcard remembered when he had been a young lad, up and coming to influence and power, cuffed and bossed around by the big wigs of the same. It didn’t matter what your name was. All had to serve before they can lead.

He shook his head of whatever wetness came off the clam and ran it over his hair to dry it. “Well, boy, whether it’s pirates or a clam – give me your knife, boy,” he interrupted, sticking his hand out and demanding Jacqueline’s personal blade. He seized it and used it to pry the shell apart. “They key is persistence. Stab and stab again, until they decide the leakage isn’t worth the trouble.” The oyster was still refusing to give, so the ex-Marshall slapped it down on a table and proceeded to slam it hard with the pommel of the knife. It broke apart, with the contents now spilled, and Folcard’s interests ruined. “Let that be a lesson to the rest of you.” He glowered at the rest of the buffet table, before slapping the blade flat into Jacqueline’s chest. He almost touched her covered, wrapped breasts.

He also touched the blade, after touching his hair. It was oily. The type soldiers used to keep their hair slicked and clinging together, so as to not drape in front of their eyes or become a target to be pulled in combat. Not the right kind, unfortunately. More like whale oil.

Despite living in a seaside port, he hated seafood. “Wiggly, slippery little bastards. That’s the problem with waterborne combat, let me tell you. So much space to move around. So…slippery.” Folcard glowered on. Well, the little lad had asked, right? “You have to corral the bastards into a tight place. Where there is no space to move. Then, you stab them wide open. You understand me, boy?” He spun on Jacqueline, finally deigning to even look at him.

“I hate seafood. The Lady always does this, to irk me. She knows I despise it. Hmph. Well someone ought to return the favor to her.” Folcard went on, squeezing his fist, not knowing he was just talking to a teenage boy who probably had no clue about these things. Perhaps nostalgic in a way, forgetting his present circumstances, thinking he was back in an orderly camp with dozens of young men and soldiers to do whatever bidding he wanted. He won them victories, put spoils in their purses, he was allowed to.

He grumbled again, sizing the squire up. “What did you say your name again? Lancaster, I heard it was said. Say, isn’t your Duchy landlocked anyways? What need you with securing trade ports and all? Got ambitions to conquer the ports when you’re older eh lad? Well let me warn you about the courage of us lionhearted Pearlpointers. We’ll point you mountain bastards right back to where you came. Hmph.” Folcard declared without any provocation, prodding Jacqueline in the shoulder with his thick finger. Young men and their ambitions. He snorted. He tsked. When will they ever learn?
 
The immediate first response gave Jacqueline pause. Clams? She glanced to the clam he struggled to open. Well she clearly did not estimate the man well. He demanded her knife. For a moment she was hesitant but eventually relented, drawing the small blade from her boot. She winced as he shoved the meticulously honed edge into the clam to pry it apart. It would take ages with a whetstone to work the nicks he was making out, assuming it could be salvaged at all. “Well yes that would be how…” she started but trailed off as he smashed the clam with the pommel of her knife, cutting a sizeable gouge in the metal. What on earth was this man’s problem? Sour old man would be a kind remark for him.

The blade was slapped into her chest. For a moment she felt a wave of panic flood over her. Wearing armor, it’s fine. She reached a twitching hand up and took the knife back. It was slick and greasy feeling. Clams were about as far from greasy as food could get. She held the knife up as if inspecting it, trying to catch a hint of that deep, musky scent from bear oil. No such luck. It smelled of salt and sea, though that could be the clam he smashed with her knife. Rude.

Her head perked up as he spoke. Corral and stab. Well that was more than obvious. She wiped her knife off and slid it back into its sheath in her boot. “I believe I do, sir,” she said with a nod as she stood back up. Clearly his mind was going as his thoughts turned to the lady Emlyn. Yes, clearly she planned an entire buffet spread to anger this old codger. “A terrible thing, to deprive you of food you enjoy,” she said with a false lamentation. Good thing the old coot was retired, clearly he was unhinged but perhaps not enough that he plotted the murder of the lady.

“Lancaster is actually a peninsula,” she grumbled lowly. A great deal of the duchy’s wealth came from trade routes. The fine estate she grew up in was on the sea even. Well she couldn’t expect such a man to be an expert in the whereabouts of estates, right? With his warning she raised her hands in mock surrender. “Far be it for me to even think of trying to take such a city,” she said with a light laugh even through the prodding of her shoulder. “Far wiser to establish trade…” which had been long since established “…with Pearlpointe than make an enemy of her. I have taken up far too much of your time. Enjoy the buffet,” she said with a polite bow and quick excusing herself.

That might have gone better if she wasn’t pretending to be a boy. Old men were usually softer with women. Usually. That crazy old man might be a different breed altogether. So far she hadn’t been doing well with investigating. It was getting annoying. She looked around the crowd, trying to spy Friderick and his ward. No one would be crazy enough to attack her with a man like Friderick nearby. Her heart gave a little flutter before she reigned herself in. There was a job to do. Perhaps she might have better luck with the city’s auditor. He must know something about the estate and who might be keen enough after it to commit murder.

Jacqueline crossed the room, pausing for a small bite to eat and a refill of her barely low wine. It didn’t take long for her to find the auditor. How to approach this one? Might be best to play on title. She approached with a casual ease before sidling up near Henriot Mignon. “I must say this city really is wonderful and the estates here are glorious. It makes one wonder if any are up for sale. My father, the Duke of Lancaster, has long since considered having an estate away from Lancaster. A sort of…home from home…and what with the trade that passes between Lancaster and Pearlpointe it seems quite ideal. Wouldn’t you agree?”
 
Folcard was surprised when Jacqueline gave a more neutral answer when it came to Lancaster seizing Pearlpointe. His bushy eyebrows rose up and he looked at the boy as if he wasn’t just another brainless up-and-coming knight with aspirations bigger than his breeches. Wise indeed. Someone must have a good teacher. He gave only a grunt in farewell to the lad.

Henriot Mignon was not born a noble man. He was a middle classed educated financer who rose up the social ladder due to personal finance and successful schemes. He had purchased his title, which was hardly legitimate outside the walls, but within he was powerful and influential. He could levy severe taxes during his audits, to which the wealthy families of the city would pay him bribes and other gifts to help fudge their personal numbers to avoid such fines. He knew his power, was comfortable with wielding it, and had no qualms about crushing any who got in his way with it, rich or poor. His name was praised by all openly and cursed by all secretly.

He was more casual than Jacqueline, not even deigning to notice or address her as she approached and talked to him. He picked at his own plate of food, sipping on his wine, making a show of deliberate tasting and enjoyment as his keen eyes watched everyone else. A foolish grin spread on his lips at the Lancaster’s remarks. Sale? Land? In this place? “I wonder why any would make a home out of a place they understand so little of.” He said slyly at first to her, giving her a side eye, his tone almost insulting. “Not all are born with such privilege as you, little lordling. Others have to worm their way up, waiting for the boat of opportunity to pass their shore. And you, so cruel and unkind, would buy up such waterfront so as to prevent their rise?” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. Titles bought by outside nobility, while not illegal, prevented local nobles from gaining in land and wealth. Like him.

“I jest, little lordling. No doubt the opportunity will arise. Sooner than you think.” He said with a cast of his eyes towards the Lady, who was still deep in some conversation with Friderick. “When a deed comes up, would you like to be placed on the priority list for the auction, little lordling? Rich enough already, are you? It can be…arranged.” He said with a charming grin. For a bribe, of course. I know your family has the means.

“And speaking of which, perhaps you can help me with a little subterfuge. Our hostess, most gracious, she is a selfish one you see. And I have this cask of wine, exotic and delicious, that I wished to share with all, but she insisted on serving her own. I know money is tight for her and all I do is wish to help. Perhaps you might…share in this game with me, to denounce openly the wine served, and allow me to delight all the tongues here with the sweetests vintages ever tasted in this side of the world. I know the Lady would appreciate it in the long term. She is just…too set in her ways. But you are young, you understand the need for change.” Henriot Mignon said to Jacqueline, putting his arm around her shoulders, like she was an old friend. His scent came heavy. A type…of oil.

“Do this for me, this little game, the smallest of trifles, and perhaps that home away from home might be a reality for a young Lord like yourself to one day enjoy….”
 
Jacqueline’s brows quirked at the jovial yet prickly tone. His whining about people worming their way up a curious comment to make. She wasn’t entirely certain but she thought nobility was granted by birth or by rights given to the monarch of the land, not just simply buying property. Perhaps she really didn’t know enough about the town and it operated differently? She looked up as he spoke of property coming up for auction and their eyes fell on the lady Emly. Friderick was there, deep in conversation with the lady. Jacqueline sighed inwardly. Must be nice to just have a pleasant chat with someone who wasn’t so off-putting. “Well I should like to be considered at the very least,” she said at his offer, forcing a grin. Why were the people here so obnoxious? This Henriot was, honestly, the strangest of all. Pampered lordling and crusty ex-soldiers were a dime a dozen. This fellow was…different and it made her skin crawl.

He moved on with a strange little scheme, speaking of a fine vintage he had brought for the party. Her head tilted a little, curious and confused at such a small plot. This is almost pathetic. She was set on refusing, politely of course, until he draped an arm around her shoulders. For a moment she froze up, uncomfortable so close even in armor, the fear of discovery at the forefront of her mind. Then a scent wafted her way. It was heavy and musky and entirely too familiar. Her teeth clenched together, fighting her own face to remain neutral even as the smell of the oil surrounded her.

“Well I would be curious about this wine. I hope you would keep this between us but I am far more partial to sweeter vintages myself. Ser Friderick would be beside himself if he knew,” she said with a light chuckle. “Men of arms only drink the bitterest of drinks after all. How about we go to this cask of yours and bring some. If it is as sweet as you say I should be glad to sing its praises, even if it embarrasses our fine host a little.” She slid out from his grasp to let him stand so they could go to wherever the cask might be. Jacqueline walked with the man, desperately but discretely trying to catch Friderick’s eye as they walked, hoping beyond hope he could read her expression. This might be him! Though if he didn’t notice she might have to take matters into her own hands. Surprising that such a man was a killer. At least she had a sword.

It was quiet outside and the cold seeped right into her armor. She glanced around as they walked, no one else was around. So late at night the quiet was eerie. The cask was out of the way and they stopped so he could tap it and fill two glasses to try. In his distraction she drew her sword, holding it up towards the man. “Tell me the truth, sir, how keen have you been to see this estate purchased? We know the lady’s circumstances, the series of accidents that led to her ownership, were orchestrated. Out with it now. Are you the one responsible?”
 
Henriot laughed at the boy’s concern about the squire’s knight finding out. Yes, what joy it was to be young and sneak around the authority of elders. He smiled at Jacque Lancaster in a conspiratorial fashion. “You are wiser than you look, my little friend. And please, we’re not here to embarrass our fine hostess. Merely…set her back on the right path. You’ll see. She’ll be very appreciative of what I – we – have to offer.” He said to the squire and though he let the boy break free of his grasp, his hand returned to the squire’s back as if they were very old friends, leading them from the hall. Friderick did not see at first. But it would only take a moment for him to realize his squire had gone.

It was a short walk into the manor’s courtyard and across to an adjourning shack that held those commodities and goods that should be kept in the cold for preservation. It did have a doorway that led directly into the manor but they would have been seen going in and out of there. Henriot busied himself with fetching two clean goblets and opening the cask, simply letting it breathe a moment, when he heard the sword rasp behind him. He turned, ever so casually, and looked at the little boy wielding a blade aimed towards his chest. He merely smiled wider and spread his arms in a passive way, indicating he had no weapons.

“A robbery? Not very noble of you, little lordling.” He still managed to jest at first, before the squire began to demand some truth out of him. That he, of all people, was after the estate that was so dearly held in desire by many ambitious persons in the city. He tilted his head to the side like a confused hound. “Me? The one responsible?” He said coyly, as if he didn’t even know what those words meant. “Little lordling, put that away before you hurt yourself. You don’t know what you are getting at. Now come, have a drink of this fine vintage,” he said, turning his back to the squire as he began to pour one, and just one, cup. He turned and thrust it out to the squire.

“Don’t touch it.” Friderick’s voice boomed as he walked in behind Jacqueline, his own hand on his sheathed blade. “What is going on here, Esquire Lancaster?” He demanded, though he never took his eyes off of Henriot, who simply continued to smile as charmingly as he could. But in his head, his mind was racing. Not here. Not now.

“Ah, Ser Knight, so good of you to come. It seems your squire has it in him to accuse me of some heinous attempt to assassinate the Lady-“

“That’s funny.” Friderick interrupted. “I was just listening in a moment before. My squire said series of accidents. Nothing about any…assassination. An interesting choice of word.” He said with narrowed eyes.

“Come now, you are newcomers here. Everyone knows. But it is an ill omen to discuss such things under the Lady’s own roof!” Henriot tried to defend himself, which was feasible in a way. Everyone knew of the dreadful circumstances.

“What under my roof?” Came Lady Emlyn’s voice, entering the shack, along with the old Marshall ad some others. Suddenly, all eyes were on Jacqueline.

“Esquire Lancaster, care to explain?” Friderick said to Jacqueline. If she had reason to draw her blade, it must certainly be a good reason, and he trusted her judgement.

“Not here. In the hall. Now. All of you.” Lady Emlyn said, almost as if she was disappointed in her hired protectors. A short while later, they were all gathered there. No music. The tables and chairs were thrust aside. The Lady sat in her chair. Before her was Friderick and Jacqueline. Across, Henriot. And all around the guests, looking on eagerly, about to witness a piece of juicy drama.

Now Jacqueline could explain the reason for her accusation. Henriot just stood there, smiling as ever, hands folded behind his back in the most non-threatening manner. It had better be a good accusation.
 
Jacqueline’s eyes narrowed. The man was ever so calm, teasing her as he went to pour a cup. Her brows pulled together. Just one, single, cup. She opened her mouth to demand he pour a second cup for himself when the thunderous voice of Friderick cut in. Jacqueline’s body jerked as if she would turn but she stopped herself. Eye on the quarry she heard Friderick’s voice in her head. Blue eyes stayed steady on Henriot, out of the corner Friderick’s looming presence stood beside her, asking what was happening.

Henriot got in first. The pair bantered and Jacqueline kept her sword raised. The man was guilty she was sure of it. The argument was cut short as the lady herself appeared sounding sad and disappointed. Jacqueline’s jaw clenched and she gave an irate snort. Superb, somehow they were the bad guys all of a sudden. More so her but Friderick was her knight after all, he would bear the brunt of her rash actions. At the lady’s demand she sheathed her sword and stood properly upright, turning an apologetic yet puzzled gaze up at Friderick. She had been so sure it was Henriot. As they headed in she glanced back at the cask. One cup. Hesitating a moment she turned and carefully grabbed the partially filled cup before catching up with Friderick.

The hall had been cleared for space, all in attendance circled like buzzards waiting on a fresh meal to finally die. Jacqueline stood beside Friderick, the half cup of wine in her hands. Hopefully their saving grace if Friderick’s warning had been accurate.

“My lady I am inclined to believe that the demise of your kin are not mere accidents but assassinations and you are the final name on the list.” Had to make it sound like this was a new discovery rather than already being privy to such assumptions. “Further more I have reason to suspect Henriot Mignon to be the orchestrator.” The gallery gave a collective, subtle, gasp before lapsing into hissing whispers. “A beard of, likely made of rendered bear fat, was discovered in the areas of your keep none were to enter. Of all the men in assembly here only Henriot smells of the small oil. Further more, when speaking of the ‘accidents’ he referred to them as assassinations. Why would a man jump to such a thing if he were not the perpetrator?”

“Finally, he was quite insistent on sharing this wine with the assembly. He invited me to try it with him, to convince you, my lady, that the vintage and taste is superior to the wine served tonight. Yet he only poured one cup.” Her eyes darted to the smiling man before she turned toward him and held out the cup. “If the wine is as good as he says…I think, before the assembly, he should have a taste.”
 
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