From Peasant to Hero (MaliciousLullaby and DudeMeister)

Anton looked upon Ela as the messenger brought her the letter. After so many years away from her, wondering how she fared after his departure, he wanted nothing more than to tell her who he really was. He always knew that she would grow up to be a true lady of grace, but somehow that made him sad. She would no doubt be betrothed to another, but the majority of lords were of a feeble sort.

"Very well, my lady. My lord father and I shall see you upon the morrow at the meeting. Farewell" Anton said with a nod as she dismissed herself.

That night he spent in his quarters removing his armor. After a squire aided him in unfastening his curiass, he dismissed him and attended to the rest of his harness. He preferred to do things himself. A cask of spiced wine was at his disposal, yet he couldn't bring himself to drink it. Nostalgia and old feelings welled within him from seeing her again…but now was not the time. Ulric was a weakling, crushing after a lord's daughter who dreamed of knighthood. If only Anton could meet his past self and tell him that it was not all it was cracked up to be. He turned his gaze towards his prized longsword, a elegantly crafted blade of castle forged steel devoid of ornament, yet beautiful in form. It was a lovely hunk of metal for something made to end life…

The meeting went on dully and she was hardly paying any attention. She only snapped out of things when her name had been thrice called upon and she sat up immediately. “My apologies, gentlemen.” She spoke softly, once more putting her attention onto the meeting at hand and taking a vested interest and part in it. She had to. She had the Mulberry name to uphold as well as her title and stature. She was there in her father’s place. She had to do something, prove some kind of worth.

The end of the meeting officially marked an end of the day for her. There was to be another meeting tomorrow and she knew she could expect to see Lord Meyer and his son in attendance. She didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she returned to her lodgings, undressed and dressed into her night time attire. She wrapped a sheer white robe around her slender frame and walked to the large window in her room that let her see out beyond on the castle grounds. It was beautiful at night. Stars twinkling, soft white clouds in small disarray, leaving the skies almost clear.

Even as she lay down to sleep, she couldn’t find it in her to sleep. Yes, she was so tired, mentally mostly, but the turmoil and dilemma and the fact she couldn’t stop thinking about Anton, left her to be an insomniac the rest of the night. Even as the light came up in the sky, the sun rising proudly to bestow it’s shining light all over the skies, her eyes were still open, having stared at the window all night. She looked tired. Nothing could cover that up.

Her morning went by like she was a drone. Moving on autopilot in a heavily regimented routine of bathing, dressing, breakfast and with some down time, reading a bit of literature to tide her over. But the exhaustion was kicking in fast and she was finding it difficult to stay awake. But she pushed through. Soon the time for the meeting came by and she left by carriage to make her arrival there. She walked in and bowed to the noblemen already in attendance before taking her seat upon invitation to do so.

Upon looking out of his window contemplatively, Anton sighed and finally drank a flagon of the spiced wine laid before him, the bawdy cavorting from his victory feast causing quite a ruckus from down below. It was rather odd for the tourney champion not to attend his own victory feast, but such affairs weren't too his liking. Lord Meyer provided him with many an anecdote about the dangers of drinking heavily. It quickens the rage and slows the body. He slowly undid the sword belt that fastened his prized blade and cruelly keen dagger and set it upon the desk before he lifted his grey tunic over his head.

Ulric peered at himself in the mirror. Seven years forged him into a powerful combatant, his arms knotted heavily with sinewy muscle, his chest a bulging slab of meat, his core thickly wrought to protect his spine from shattering on account of the many blows he possibly could take in his occupation. However he was not left unscathed either. His forearms bore many welts and scratches from taking blows from blunted tourney swords. The last three fingers of his left hand had been broken in a sparring accident, the trace of the trauma detectible from the swollen joints of the digits. No mark of battle was as prominent as a long scar that stretched diagonally from his right shoulder to his pectoral. The events of that day were recalled, the bitter shock of reality that knighthood and valor were just pretty words used in children's stories.

The next day Anton dutifully stood behind his lord father, mirroring his attire in a black doublet with the white hawk heraldry of his clan. The king himself was seated as well, drinking mead and belching audibility, his lords seated around a round table. Despite his rank and being the heir of William Meyer, he found this meeting boring. Whilst his mind wandered off to filter out the bureaucratic nonsense, he found himself glancing at Elarinya. After what felt like an eternity of discussing border disputes, the looming threat of raiders, and the kingdom's debt, the council was finally adjourned. Breathing a sigh of relief, Anton paced out of the chamber. He would be in the yard training in the very near future, but he had to do something first. He leaned against the wall after agreeing to meet his father later and waited for her. When she finally came out, he couldn't help but smile softly.

"That seemed to take forever. Might I escort you somewhere m'lady?" he asked her

The meeting was mundane but it also set off alarm bells in her head. Where they were talking about, her land would be put in the middle of it all. Her estate, the people who worked and lived on her estate as well as her status would come in jeopardy. Ela hardly participated in the meeting. No, what she kept thinking of was the dangers this war posed and the ramifications that would arise because of men who wanted to squabble over territorial means. She never understood war. All she knew was she didn’t like it. It never seemed worth the many lives it claimed. Right now, she wanted to leave this meeting, she didn’t want to hear the horrible things they were saying, the possibilities that would come, the casualties, everything that scared her. She was still like a little girl in that way, not wanting to hear the horror stories because they would keep her awake all night. But things still kept her awake all night.

She glanced over to Sir Anton and she couldn’t tell if he was bored or deep in thought like she was. If what he was hearing was deeply unsettling him like it was her. She didn’t know. But she wanted to know. She wanted to know what he was thinking. She wanted to know if he was really Ulric. He looked a lot like what Ulric would look like now. But he claimed to be someone else. She didn’t ask but she wanted to. There was something, a sort of pull, some kind of connection. That same connection there was when they were younger. Only when his gaze met hers, did she look away and go back to her thoughts. She wanted to go to some seedy tavern and disown her title for a day and do something so unladylike. But in reality, she would most likely retire to her chambers and sleep. She was so tired. Maybe she’d get a blink of sleep, if not a lot.

After what seemed like forever, the meeting finally adjourned and the nobles and lords and men were seeing themselves out. She stood as well, bowed to the king and took her leave. A couple of men stopped her, inquired about her, her health, gave their condolences to her about her father, wanting to offer something. Did she have a sign that said ‘Fair Maiden to be Taken?’ All she did was smile politely, express her thanks and walked out of the room only to be stopped by yet another man. Only this time, it was Sir Anton and her heart skipped a beat. She bowed to him before smiling lightly. “Yes, it did.” She laughed softly. “If ever there was a time for some sort of device that I could put in my ears to block out all this war talk, that meeting would have been perfect.”

“Well…a part of me would like to go to a tavern, give my title up for the rest of the day and do something completely unbecoming of myself like drink. Don’t worry, I know better.” Although it would help to take the edge off and maybe she could get some sleep. “However, I think if you’d be so kind to escort me back to my chambers Sir Anton, I would greatly appreciate it. I’m very tired, I’m afraid I did not sleep very well last night. I’d like to retire for the day and catch up on some well deserved rest.” She then offered her arm to him. “Shall we?”

Anton found himself chuckling slightly at her comments concerning the meeting. His lord father told him of how these meetings went. The assembled parties would talk, argue, drink, than argue some more. It short, they all brayed like assess. Hardly anything was accomplished. The knight dutifully took the lady's arm once it was offered. There was nothing overly gallant about Anton. No recited sonnets or proclamations of the maiden's beauty that sounded so nice in the storybooks. He was a fighting man through and through…but did not lack courtesy.

"Well, I do happen to have a bottle of red in my room I'd be happy to share in your company. With this council adjourned, all lords will be going back to their estates. Quarreling barons are not our only worries in these times. Bandits have been attacking farmlands, and have been waylaying travelers along the main road. No doubt it would be wise for you to travel with an escort. The Mulberry estate is on the way to the Western Stronghold. We'd be happy to provide you an escort if you'd like" he said as he walked her to her quarters.

And if she had to be honest, she preferred that he wasn’t trying to lay over her path with praises and compliments because it wasn’t something she liked or enjoyed. Not by boisterous men who talked out of their ass most of the time because they were that belligerent and drunk. She didn’t like when men felt the need to compliment a woman on everything or all the time because they felt that was all a woman wanted or what they needed. She wasn’t that kind of woman. And if there was anyone she wanted to compliment her…it had only ever been Ulric. But she was never going to see him again. Was she?

Her gaze shifted to Sir Anton’s and she smiled a little innocently. “Oh? Well then, I would hate to be so unladylike to invite myself over, so how about I invite you into the common room of my chambers.” It wasn’t the chamber, it was a smaller version of a living room, to entertain public company without it appearing all scandalous.
As he explained though, she nodded her head. She knew she’d have to return home when the men spoke about the animosity in the war front over disputing lords and lands. For the safety of her land, her father’s memory and title and the people who worked for her, she needed to go home. Besides, if she was going to hold onto anything, it was her estate. It was all she had now. She was the Lady of the Mulberry estate. She was terrified without showing, that she’d always just be the Lady of the Mulberry estate.

“I would greatly appreciate your company and safety on my journey back home.” She said softly. “Thank you.” She nodded her head. “But I do not wish to talk about that. I’d very much like it if you could come to my common room with that bottle of red.” She said softly. She had a hidden agenda. Slightly at least.

It was time to loosen up Sir Anton’s tongue.

"Very well my lady. I'll just need a few moments, than I'll meet you in the common room." he said, before he unraveled his arm from her's and took his leave of her. Having made his way to his room, he procured the bottle of red and a pair of cups before he realized what he was doing. He set them aside as he stared blankly into space. He was trying to see her. He wanted so much to tell her who he really was, to tell her how proud he was of the woman she had become and to tell her all that happened these last seven years they'd been apart. She was so beautiful and charming that Ulric realized the elated pounding of his heart was that of affection. The young knight than came to understand that he felt more than just friendship for her. Sighing, he set the bottle and the glasses down. He mustn't tell her what happened, or who he was. That was ages ago. He was a different person. He shed the weak skin of Ulric years ago in pursuit of a dream that he couldn't hope to achieve otherwise. It was a a dream that he payed for in blood, sweat and tears. He became Anton to fight the unjust, and to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. That was his oath, and the final blow across his face courtesy of his 'lord father' held him to it. He hadn't been Ulric in years…but slivers of him came through when he was around her.

Gathering the wine and cups, he became Sir Anton once again, meeting her at the common room as discussed, a courteous smile greeting her as he set the beverages on the table.

"I hope the wine is to your liking. I'm told it's a choice vintage" he said

Ela nodded her head and she bowed to him. She turned to leave and be on her merry way to her chambers. Walking in, she tidied up the common area of her living place a little bit before settling down in a chair. She picked up one of her favorite books, one she was always reading even when she was younger. The story was all she had to keep his memory alive when he hadn’t been around for the past seven years. It reminded her of Ulric. Of a better and simpler time when she was just a young lady whose only friend at the time had been her horse. Until she got closer to Ulric.

She wanted to will herself not to keep thinking about him. It would only make her heart ache even more but it was hard to get him out of her mind. It had been easy before. She spent the past seven years in a convent, there was not a single man around who reminded her of Ulric. But this Sir Anton reminded her so much of Ulric that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. That made her heart ache. She wanted so badly to maybe ask him if he knew of Ulric or if he really was Ulric. No one knew that Lord Meyer even had a son. It would make perfect sense. But things like that didn’t happen in real life. It was make believe. And she’d only been seen as crazy if she started making wild accusations and assumptions.

A chamber maid introduced Sir Anton when he arrived and Ela shut her book and stood. She bowed courteously to the gracious knight and smiled softly. “Thank you.” She took the bottle and the glasses from him, setting them down on a small table between two cozy chairs. “I’m sure it will be delicious. While I haven’t dabbled my youth in tasting different wines, the small select choices that I have tasted I have quite enjoyed. I am sure I will enjoy this one.” She poured them both a glass of the crimson liquid, its aromas filled with the succulent berries it took to make it before handing him a glass. She picked her own up and held her glass out to him. “To old friends and new friends, alike.” She spoke softly in a toast. Hints. Goading. It was a start.

"Indeed" A momentary look of wariness graced Ulric's face at her toast, but he brushed it off and smiled slightly as the two clinked glasses. Sipping from the cup, he let the sour red run along his tongue and warm his throat. He wondered what she meant by that. Could it be that she suspected something? Was it possible that after so many years she remembered that pathetic little stable boy that looked after her palfreys?

"I have been told that you received your education in a convent. I was unaware that Lord Mulberry was a religious man. Might I ask where were you sent? How was life amongst the sisters?" he asked. In truth he had no other conversation starter. His original intention was to make arrangements for an escort, only to realize just a few minutes ago that he wanted to speak with his old friend. His life as a squire was hard. Days of harsh training and servitude left little time for making friends. The other squires and knights who trained alongside him all vied for Lord Meyer's favor, so he learned early on not to break bread with the competition. Perhaps it was nostalgia, a remembering of a simpler time, that brought him into her company.

Oh, she suspected something alright. She caught the look in his eyes and if she was right, it must have gotten to him. If he was really just somebody else who had no tie to her one bit, he would have smiled, called it a nice toast and toasted back at the potential of it al. But he hesitated. Ela didn’t let it show. She just smiled when their glasses clinked and sipped her wine. It was delicious. Not too sweet, not too bitter and with a surprising tang that made her tongue produce enough saliva giving her the hankering for more. She took another sip and then motioned for him to sit as she moved to sit down on a cushioned chair.

She sipped her wine once more and then placed her wine glass on the table between them, beside her book. “Yes.” She nodded her head. “I wouldn’t say religious. More like religious when it came to banishing his daughter to a convent. He blamed me for certain things but at the same time knew he couldn’t blame me for any of it.” She said softly. “I went to St. Augustine’s. A fine convent and full of devoted nuns. They were kind and gave me the sort of motherly affection I missed. I left when my studies were complete and I got news of my father on his deathbed.” She said softly. “It was just a few days ago in fact.” She sighed softly and picked her wine glass up again. She was more liberal on the sips. Not trying to save anything. She savored it and enjoyed it but she drank it more heavily.

Ela wasn’t the kind to drink. But the last few days had been a lot. She lost her father, inherited everything, her betrothed fell to his demise, kind of literally, but what was really shaking it all up for her was the arrival of Sir Anton. She knew it in her heart. He was Ulric. She just had to get the truth either from him or from Lord Meyer.
“What is it like to be the son of a war legend like Lord Meyer?”

Anton processed her question over a sip of wine. Placing the glass down, he weighed each word he was about to say carefully.

"Not much different from being any other knight's son actually. I was brought up as a page in my father's estate whilst he was away guarding the western border, tending to the castellan. I became a squire when I was about ten, and was sent to Lord Xavier's castle to learn the arts of arms. There were about five other squires there. I was the youngest at the time, so things were a bit rough. I was a lousy rider, and was knocked off my horse by the quintain many times. I also had to earn my lumps the hard way in the yard. About five years in I came into my own, and began defending the border alongside my father." he said. All of it was a lie…except the 'earning his lumps' part. Like all other squires, he had to learn early that what hurt taught. The part about being knocked off his horse by the quintain was true as well and even now he felt better fighting on his feet despite his status as a knight.

Either he was a really good liar or what he was saying, was in fact true. Elarinya didn’t know which one disheartened more. The fact that it could be true or the fact that he knew exactly who she was and here he was, lying to her face. She wasn’t sure if it could be a forgivable offense, no longer sure if she really even wanted to know the truth about who he was. If it was worth it because if he really was Ulric, he would tell her the truth regardless. Wouldn’t he? It was no secret at who she was. And perhaps…perhaps the years apart hardened him. The training he went through to have the title he had, the death he’d seen, maybe everything changed everything that ever mattered. Changed everything between them that he didn’t care anymore. And living this new life was easy for him while it was difficult for her.

It was a mental dilemma in her own mind that was threatening to drive her mad with constant analyzing and wondering. But all she could do was simply smile faintly and nod her head, sipping her wind with more elegance and grace, than that of a possible dependent who needed the buzz, the drug. “You’ve led quite the exemplary life Sir Anton. You must be quite proud. All your hardships, your achievements. Your father must be proud to know the true, honest and noble brave young man you’ve become.” And what she was saying, how she was saying it…well she just hoped it worked. She never had to do this kind of type of manipulation before. It was soft and gentle at best and not at all imposing. It was the manipulation of guilt. In her heart she knew the truth. She wanted to make him feel guilty about every trying to hide that from her, lie about it to her.

“You remind me a lot of an old friend I had years ago before my father banished me to the convent.” She said softly, looking him directly in the eye. “He wanted to be like you. He always snuck in to watch the Elder Vestor teach and train. Do you think you are someone he could be proud to have looked up to? To strive to be like?”

Anton was in the middle of sipping his wine before her question was sprung upon him. Startled, the wine caught in his throat which started quite a coughing fit. After a few moments of clearing his throat, he set the glass down with a rather loud thunk before he looked at her straight in the eye. For a moment he was no longer Anton, and he was Ulric. He would tell her everything, from how he fought as a foot soldier in the west, and how William Meyer rewarded his valor with the opportunity to earn his knighthood by promoting him to a squire. He would tell her that in order to be allowed to be a squire, his name and identity was taken from him, and he became the son that Lord Meyer never had. He would confess to her…or at least Ulric would. He wasn't that child anymore, but a man grown.

"Well, perhaps he would've, until he realized what knighthood entailed. The sacrifices you must make to become a knight are beyond count, I doubt that he'd think it was worth it. ." he finally said after a long hard look.

"Don't get me wrong, it's not because of whatever caste he was born into. Frankly, valor has nothing to do with wether or not you have 'Sir' in front of your name. However, knighthood isn't all that it's cracked up to be. You goes through hardships, see friend and foe alike die…and than you realize that all those fairytales you read in a book are just cruel lies. One can hope that this world can afford to have a perfect knight…but that's never going to happen." he said before getting up.

"Good night. I have enjoyed the company, but I must take my leave. Fare well my lady" Anton said, bowing courteously before turning and heading out of the room.

Quickly, Elarinya was onto her feet when he bid his farewell. She swallowed hard and took a step towards him. “Sir Anton…” She said softly, halting him before he was actually out the door. “Please sleep well tonight. I’d like to return home when I can. I’d like it if you would be able to escort me back home. Until then.” With that, she turned and took her book that she left on the table, replacing it with her wine glass and she walked to her bedroom, a smaller room that was adjoined to the common area of her chambers overall. She shut the door and then moved to her bed, slipping her robe off and revealing the white see through material of her night gown. She lay down in bed and lit a lamp beside her bed to give her light in the darkness. She opened her book and began to read, her eyes watery and her heart so sad.

She fell asleep quickly that night but it wasn’t so pleasant. Not when her heart ached and longed for him to tell her the truth. She was convinced that it was him. She knew it was him, it had to be. Tomorrow seemed like a good day to talk to Lord Meyer, seek his permission for her request of Sir Anton’s company on her journey back home and talk to him a little bit about his son.

That next morning, she awoke being very well rested and eager to be dressed and quickly fed so might catch Lord Meyer. Elarinya made her way out of her room and walked down the hall she knew to be housing Lord Meyer and his son. She knocked not on Sir Anton’s door but his father’s door, smiling to the chamber boy outside of his room. “Duchess Mulberry here to see Lord Meyer, if you would.”

William poured over letters sent from the garrison that held the western stronghold through heavy-lidded eyes. All night he had been reading reports of dwindling supplies, and more villagers seeking shelter at the garrison after being ousted by bandits. Whenever he had decided to put everything down and call it a night, sleep would elude him, so here he was trying to make sense of everything. The shortage of food was bad enough, but having more mouths to feed would only compound the problem. It seemed that the only option would be to send troops to fight the bandits, and leave the stronghold with less men in the garrison…but even that posed it's problems.

William heard the knock on his door before the chamber boy opened the door.

"What is it boy?!?" he asked the child cantankerously.

"Duchess Mulberry is here to see you m'lord" the page replied, fearful of igniting the old battler's already short fuse.

"Very well, show her in" he said, tossing the letter aside.

"Good morning Lady Mulberry, what can I do for you?" he asked her once she was shown in

She heard his loud voice boom even out of his chambers and she winced lightly for the poor boy who had to tend to him. She hoped she didn’t come at a bad time. She knew the warfare around the kingdom was gaining in strength. Villages were being raided and the villagers being left with nothing, only to turn to elsewhere if they survived. The journey without the proper means and survival tactics proved more countless lives lost in the wake of it all. It was becoming a big problem, this she knew of. It was why she wanted to talk to Lord Meyer and request his son and a small band of men to escort her back home. Not just for her safety but for the overall protection for the entire staff and inhabitants of her estate.

Hearing him grant her permission, she smiled to the boy and slid him a few coins out of gratitude and to help liven up his mood just a tad bit from Lord Meyer’s foul temper. Walking inside, the door shut behind her after the boy whispered his utmost gratitude and thanks and then she bowed to the legend himself. “Sir.” She smiled gently. “I was wondering, if now is not a terrible time, if I might request a favor from you. Well, more so of your son.” She walked forward, her hands placed delicately in front of her, clasped together.

“I’d like to go home soon. I fear in my absence, what will become of my home, but more importantly, the people that do live there, my staff. I would like if your son could accompany me as well as a few other knights for a safe journey home and to keep them stationed alongside those who have trained with the Elder Vestor at my estate. If you accept, I’d be most gracious and also vow to return the favor again, any time you need or wish to redeem.”

"Well your request is reasonable, and as it so happens Anton will be heading off to settle a border dispute between two barons not too far from Mulberry Manor so the trip won't take him to far of course." he said as he consulted the records of how many men left with them on the journey to the royal capital.

"An escort of two hundred foot soldiers and fifty knights can leave upon the morrow if you wish, however preparations will have to be made in order to leave on time, so you'll have to speak with Anton directly. He rose early to train, so he'll be in the yard training with the other knights and squires at this time." he said

Anton's battle cry echoed through the courtyard as he raised his sword over his head, the edge of the blunt blade threatening to crash down upon the other knight's head in a deadly arc. The knights had been training for the past three hours, the clanging of steel on steel the accept ritual before they would break their fast. Unclothed from the waist up, his heavily muscled torso was coated in perspiration from all the effort, before ever sinew burst into violent motion, bringing a blow towards the shoulder of his foe. His blade bit into the heater shield, and his sparring partner countered in time with a thrust to his belly. Sidestepping out of the way, he deftly brought the cross guard of his blade high up to the left side of his face, the point brought up to threaten his opponent's face in a guard known as the 'ox'. Eager not to be stabbed in the face, his opponent batted the point away with his sword sloppily, a parry to which Anton gave way to, delivering a horizontal blow that banged into his foe's right temple. The man fell down to the ground, being the fifth man that Anton left bruised and battered. Had he put any more force in the blow, he might have a split skull to worry about.

Turning to the next victim, Anton poised his sword to his right shoulder aggressively, light on his feet and ready to crack a thunderous blow to any fool to challenge him. Most of these knights weren't from the escort that left the western stronghold. These were all green boys and pampered lordlings who were knighted too soon. Arrogant bastards who fancied themselves gallant despite having never seen the field of battle. Whatever skill Anton had he earned, and not unscathed. The vicious scar that spanned from his right shoulder to his chest proved it.

“Thank you Lord Meyer.” She smiled brightly and bowed before leaving his presence and his chambers and she went on her way to the training yard when she stopped herself. She thought back to the last time she had sparred with Anton. Well, Ulric and she smiled to herself. She was a duchess now. She could do that if she pleased and this time, her father wouldn’t be there to yell at her. What point was there to her being a duchess if she couldn’t at least starting having fun again. She was in her early twenties, still not married and it’s not like she had to protect herself for anything. It’s not like she would have any of that. Her only chance was killed. And the only chance she wanted didn’t exist.

Elarinya went to her chambers and she changed into something more suitable to spar with. She had nothing like what the men had but she did have skeevies and she could always layer them so they didn’t show anything unbecoming of her. She kept it held in place with some rope and then she put on more proper shoes. She held her hair back and then walked to the training grounds, although she did put on a cloak to hide what she wore in the passing by.

Once she was there, she watched as Anton easily defeated yet another and she grinned a little bit. But her grin faded from her face quickly when she saw him turn and she saw that scar. She remembered that day so vividly and she swallowed hard. When he turned to face for his next opponent, she quickly dropped her cloak and stepped forward. She picked up a blunted sword and held it with confidence. “I hope you don’t mind Sir Anton, but I’d like to a chance to have a round with you. I mean you can dispose of these young boys so quickly, can you handle me?” She smiled, amusement lighting in her eyes, despite the fact she knew in her heart now, it was Ulric. And it’d be just like before.

“So, right now, I am not Duchess Mulberry. I’m simply Elarinya.” She walked over to him and she got close. “And you can refuse to tell me who you are or you can tell me right now. Either way, I am sparring with you. Either way, I’ll have Lord Meyer tell me.” She looked at him and stepped back, her eyes settling in on his scar. “Lovely scar Sir Anton. It must tell quite the story.”

The young knight turned to face his next foe, his sword held up in the high guard to aggressively dispatch with his next opponent…but than he saw her step up into the sparring ring, blunted tourney sword in hand. The smile she bore, the confident and playful look in her eyes…it brought back memories of a much simpler time, when swordplay was just that: play. He remembered when the two of them would sneak off in the early morning to spar. They were but children who didn't know what they were doing, without any notion about the gravity of mortal combat. But it was good clean fun, with a bruise or two thrown in. He slowly lowered his sword, resting his hand on the pommel as he propped the tip against the cobblestones, taking a moment's respite to catch his breath.

"Lady Elarinya, what a surprise. It is not everyday he see a Duchess hold a sword with the intention of wielding it. This is not play that we are doing here: one could get terribly hurt" he said as he walked away from the center of the courtyard to grab a rough spun woolen tunic, not wanting to carry on bare chested in her presence.

"There is no story behind the mark on my chest. All knights have scars. It was from a training accident in my youth" he said as he pulled the garment over his head, letting his practice longsword rest against the post he tied his horse to.

"You are gripping the blade all wrong. Your dominant hand should grasp the hilt close to the quillons whilst the other should hold the pommel. You get more leverage that way and can wield the sword more effectively. You should notice that it feels lighter…" he added. If she was going to be cocky, he'd reply in turn.

It was something that stung. She knew it was Ulric but he was determined to keep lying to her, determined to keep this act up as Sir Anton. And she understood. As Ulric, he had next to nothing. But as Sir Anton, he had respect and title as well as pay to his name. Why would he want to give that up? Maybe it hurt her a little bit or she hated the fact she never got to tell him how she truly felt. She told him when he was asleep after he nearly died to save her and her honor. But whether or not he heard mattered. She never saw him again. He was sent away and she was sent to a convent.

Swallowing hard, she looked down a moment as he simply brushed off everything she said with some deferred statement, as if he had a story to counter everything she believed. It wasn’t fair. It was heartbreaking. It was one thing to go on continuing like he was Sir Anton but why couldn’t he just be honest with her? Or did she never mean anything to him? She could understand, the years of war and knighthood changed him. But had it changed him so that he couldn’t even let himself feel an ounce of anything? Goodness, Elarinya wanted to just shout to the heavens and scream at him that she knew, scream at him to tell her, beg him. But she was a Duchess. She was a dignified lady who didn’t beg. "Forgive me, Sir Anton. I did not mean to offend or imply any sort of threat." She just wanted the truth.

So she swallowed down the pain of him lying to her face, sucked down her pride if she even ever had any to begin with, put the façade up and she lowered her sword. She changed her grip to how he said it, never being one to shy away from learning. And at least this way, she could feel it was some semblance of a better time, when Ulric used to teach her. She only knew what she knew from memory and because of him. “Like this?” She asked, looking at him, her voice a little shaky. She was trying to push it all away, the emotions and the pain. It was really hard to wear this façade like everything was okay. Everything was not okay. It was far from it in fact. But she could never say a word of it.

Being of nobility, it wasn’t worth it if she couldn’t have what she only ever wanted. She’d give up her title, her estate, everything. If it meant finally getting something she wanted, for once.
"Or if you would rather, I can let you go back to beating the pulp out of those less qualified than have you waste your time with me. Forgive me, I simply wanted to have a little fun, spend my day. But mostly, I came here to request something of you." She lowered her sword and walked over to him, having composed herself well enough to at least present herself as the bitter, hardened and impeccably beautiful Duchess who had no soul or heart. "I wish to go home soon and I know of the impending dangers that my journey can possess. I'd like it very much if you and a small fleet could accompany me back to my estate. From there, you'll be free to do as you wish, go where you like, whatever you wish. This is my one and only request from you. After that, what you decide to do is up to you." In other words, she was asking him to do this for her and once she was home safely, she would never ask him for anything, never seek to call upon him or his father, be perfectly okay to never see him again.

At least this way, she could continue on with what remained of her life without hope and not be constantly wishing of what could have been. Even though she would be constantly wondering 'what if?' She didn't have the energy. No, if he wanted to tell her, he would have. But obviously, he didn't want to. He didn't want her or anyone to know who he really was and she couldn't fault him for that. It just meant the boy she loved had grown up or had been lost in the all the warfare he had seen. It just meant she had to get over herself, get over everything and like her father always said, grow up.

The knight regarded her as she seemed taken back by what he said. Despite propriety dictating otherwise, he found no harm in a woman wanting to experiment in the art of arms. Free-fighting however would be disastrous. It was true that he and his kind often trained without protective equipment, but a stray blow could smash fingers, break teeth, or put out an eye. One precept that Lord Meyer told him was that you'd never find a master swordsman with all his teeth. It would be quite a scandal if she got herself hurt in a bout. However something else happened. Despite the brave face she was putting on, he could tell that she bore internal conflict. She was essentially the same girl who befriended him as a child, he knew how she looked like when she was hurting on the inside. At that Anton faded away, and he was Ulric for the first time in what seemed like ages.

The clang of steel on steel resumed as the knights began hacking away at each other, making up for in physicality and fervor what the lacked in skill and sense. He grasped his baldric from a fence post and tied it on as he walked to her.

"Very well M'lady...I can make arrangements with you tonight if you'd wish. We'll have to go over many possible routes before deciding upon which way to travel" he said. He glanced over his shoulder and a bit around them, as if he was making sure that nobody was within earshot of what he was about to say.

"We can talk about this Ulric matter after..." he whispered, before making his way back into the castle.

“Thank you.” She nodded her head before being completely taken back by his next statement, no longer talking of her journey but of something else, someone else. Ulric. Her eyes widened and she watched him. Her head tilted and her heart sped up. He knew something. Maybe she had been wrong. He wasn’t Ulric, he was truly Sir Anton and perhaps he knew where she could find Ulric. Maybe knew of him to give her some relief in knowing that her hopes weren’t completely farfetched. It was hope, the last vestige of it and Elarinya was quick to cling on. “Please, join me in my chambers this evening. I’ll have some maps brought over.” She called to him before she left quickly, replacing her blunted sword back in its resting place and hurrying to her chambers.

Elarinya sent for the boy outside of her room to acquire maps of the land before she started for a quick bath. She changed into a more common dress. Still elegant and of fine high end materials and cloth but not as gallant or fancy as most of her clothing. Not a vestige of what she used to wear but she didn’t believe in dressing to impress when she was in the comfort of her own home or chambers.

Once she was ready, she awaited for Sir Anton’s arrival. The boy brought her back some maps and she laid them out on a table with a lit candle next to it for light. She already saw passages and routes to take but she wasn’t sure if they were compromised or posed a threat to her well being on her journey back home.

Upon cleansing himself from the sweat he worked up in the training yard, he conferred with his father to check how many men they had, and how many they could spare to escort her. Lord Meyer was still expected at court, so the command would fall entirely on him. Once he understood logistics from their end, he dressed himself for his meeting with Ela. His attire was spartan as usual in a dark grey tunic with black pants and knee high boots, but still presentable. He told the servant boy outside her chambers that he came to meet with her, and was let in soon after that. He greeted her before he slipped his baldric off and rested it against the arm of a chair before he looked at her in silence for a moment.

"I suppose we should cut to the chase. What do you want to know?" he asked her

Once he was in her chambers, she scrambled a little bit to get him something to drink if he wished, but mostly because her heart was racing. She believed she’d learn the truth. If he wasn’t Ulric, she was convinced that Sir Anton knew where she could find him. Turning as he cut to the chase, Elarinya held a water goblet and a tumbler full of water she was about to pour for him. “U-Um…” She put them both down and looked at him. “Right. How do you know that name? Ulric?” She asked, since she hadn’t ever said it out loud to him. “Are you him?”

In all his years as Anton, Ulric longed to see his childhood friend once again. He wanted her to see what he become, to tell her that he made it. Many a time in his life as a knight he pictured how he would reunite with her...however his better sense knew how much of a risk that was. What if someone overheard what he had to say, and the truth of his humble origins revealed? Although it was not unheard of for a peasant or other member of the lower class to be knighted on the field of battle for valor, it was still problematic. Nobility was in deeds rather than blood, but try telling that to the pampered nobles who would look down on a man such as him, dismissing him for a lucky upstart. Although common man-at-arms could find inspiration in a commander who had risen to his station despite being of common birth, other knights wouldn't be so keen to join forces with him. If word got out who he actually was, it could ruin him. Despite all of that, he looked at his once dear friend and sighed.

"I am...or rather I was." he said simply