Annika sat in the inner courtyard of the castle sipping her tea, which happened to be generously spiked with Troivackian moonshine. She had been casually enjoying the liquor far more regularly since the death of her husband, and was building an annoying tolerance to the alcohol that had a reputation of making cows faint from the fumes.

“Lady Jenoure!” Annika’s mask of pleasantry became briefly strained at the sound of Lady Emily Gauva.

She took a deep gulp of her ‘tea’, then stood and faced the woman with a closed mouth smile. Baronness Emily Gauva was a short blonde woman, whom was only a couple of years younger than Annika. She had married the Baron- a decent enough man, months before Annika had first arrived in Daxaria.

“Good afternoon Lady Gauva.” Annika briefly nodded her head while thanking the Gods for the millionth time she was technically above the Baroness as she was a Viscountess.

“Mind if I join you tea? You look so lonely here by yourself.” Emily eyed the full tiered cake stand on the table, before casting her deep blue eyes back to Lady Jenoure.

“Sadly today will not do, as I am awaiting her majesty the Queen this afternoon for a private meeting. Another time perhaps?”

Annika secretly feasted on the obvious look of annoyance on the Lady’s face. However, she quickly resumed her sickeningly sweet smile while gently clasping her hands in front of her gold gown.

“Of course! How is her majesty fairing these days?”

“Well as always.” Annika continued staring unwaveringly at the Lady with her heart shaped face. She loved how direct eye contact made the woman squirm.

“That is certainly wonderful to hear. I shall see you at the Beltaine celebration…?”

“Perhaps. I find the crowds unpleasant.”

“Oh, but you should still come! At least for a short time!”

Annika laughed prettily.

“Such eves are for young maidens looking for a beau. I sadly lost my great love already, but I do hope you and Baron Gauva enjoy yourselves.” Annika adopted the expression of the heart broken woman.

“Lady Jenoure, I am sure your husband, Gods rest him peacefully, would wish you to find joy in the remaining life you have ahead of you.” The Baroness had reached out and grabbed both of Annika’s hands. “My! What calluses you have! I must give you some of my ointment, it will help soften your hands to the ladylike softness you deserve.” She chirped, forcing Annika to master every nerve in her body in order to stop the twitch in her left eye from showing.

“Presenting, her majesty Queen Ainsley.” The manservant had entered from the main North doors to the courtyard, and Annika continued to take perverse pleasure as Lady Emily shrank back, gradually disappearing into the shadows of the west courtyard exit. The Queen was known to be short and to the point with those outside of her inner circle, and for some, it was incredibly intimidating.

The Ainsley’s face lit up in a warm smile at seeing Annika. The monarch wore a pale green gown, with her light brown hair streaked with its gray piled atop her head. Gold dangled from her ears, and glinted on her hands, while a simple circlet rested on her head, declaring her importance.

When she reached the Viscountess, she embraced her, and kissed each of her cheeks, making sure to linger on the last kiss to whisper in her ear.

“Is that woman being a tad vexing?”

“She’s a vapid turkey.”

“Ah. Has she run afowl again?”

Ainsley laughed gleefully at her pun, while Annika gave her a look of exasperated amusement, but eventually let out a sigh and smiled.

The Queen wrinkled her nose as a strong smell that originated from her companion reached her. She gave Annika a knowing eyebrow raise.

The Lady responded with a shrug and a smile.

“I need to train myself for the day I find myself in a drinking competition.”

“My dear those events are reserved for the blockheaded Knights, and women are seldom welcome.”

“I’d rather be over prepared than underprepared.”

The pair of friends then seated themselves, and waited politely as the serving staff brought out the teacakes.

Both women sighed in unison when they bit into the fluffy pastry that was stuffed blueberries and a cheesy cream.

“Despite the numerous complaints I’ve received about the new cook, I am quite taken with him.” The Queen smiled, her brown eyes dazed in pleasure.

“You finally saw him?” For some reason Annika suddenly looked strained.

“No I haven’t. Though, do tell why are you giving me that reaction?”

The Lady Jenoure let out a small breath as she reached for her teacup, and lifted it to her lips.

“No reason. I was worried you were yet another victim of his charms.”

The Queen laughed, and watched as Annika emptied her cup while suppressing a smile.

“Norman said that the female staff were quite enthralled with him, and I must admit I’m growing curious.”

“I wouldn’t waste your time. The only thing remarkable about him is his lack of manners or sense.”

A slow smile began to spread on Ainsley’s face.

“My dear Lady Jenoure… are you perhaps taken with him?”

Annika snorted.

“I’m suspicious of him. I’ve not met someone so damn private since coming here from Troivack.”

“Sounds like you when you first came to marry Hank.”

Annika’s good-humored expression faded then, and the Queen immediately rushed to apologize.

“Oh my dear, I’m so sorry. I know how much you miss him.”

“He was my good friend. I cannot mourn him forever.” Annika drew out a small leather flask from a hidden pocket in her bright red dress that the Queen sighed at seeing, while the Lady ignored her and topped up her tea before a servant refilled her cup and stepped back out of earshot once finished.

Her husband’s warm smile, and somehow perfect laugh seared through her memory. His kind eyes twinkling at her even when she snapped at him the first time they met…

“Have you heard anything more about the war from your family?” Ainsley’s voice dropped as she glanced around casually.

Annika blinked, bringing herself back to the present hastily- falling into thoughts of the past was not a good idea.

“Nothing yet, but hopefully in early June before the solstice I will hear from one of my brothers.”

The Queen nodded.

“How are the preparations for the festival coming along? I hear you and your ladies in waiting have been sewing up a storm.”

“Oh it has been absolutely back breaking work, but we will be finished with time to spare before the parade.” The monarch glowed with pride as she sipped her tea.

“That’s good. I can’t imagine his highness being thrilled about you working so hard in your current condition.”

Ainsley shook her while placing the china cup back on its saucer with a small ‘clink’.

“He isn’t of course, but after this I’ll rest more.” Her hand absent-mindedly drew down to the bump she had recently begun to show.

“How have you been feeling?”

The Queen laughed, though more out of weariness than amusement.

“You sound like Norman.” She looked at her lap for a moment before raising her gaze with both her fierceness and vulnerability shining through.

“I’m alright. To declare more would be taunting the Gods.”

Annika swallowed and nodded. She couldn't imagine what her friend was going through.

“MOMMOMMOMOMOMOM!” The unmistakable voice of the young prince rang out through the courtyard.

Both women’s heads turned to see Eric barreling out of the southern doorway to the courtyard.

When the little boy had finally arrived at the tea table, he was out of breath and grabbing the Queen’s hand eagerly.

“Captain Antonio says I can start learning how to use a sword!” The boy then began jumping up and down on the spot.

Annika smiled as she sipped her ‘tea’, and the Queen blinked in surprise.

“He… he thinks you’re big enough?” The hesitancy in her voice went unnoticed by her son.

“Yes! He does! I’m going to learn how to fight!”

The Queen opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before catching Annika’s amused expression and sending a glare.

“My love you forgot to greet Lady Jenoure.” The boy turned to the Lady and waved while still jumping.

“Lady Jenoure, I’m going to become a Knight!”

“I heard! I’m sure you will make a marvelous one your majesty.”

The little boy squealed and then skipped around the tall tower of glass in the middle of the courtyard singing;

“I’m going to be a Kniiight, I’m going to be a Kniiiight…”

Ainsley turned to face Annika again.

“Once this babe is born, I am going to need a healthy dose of the that moonshine.” She whispered.

“The prince had to going to grow up eventually.”

“It’s too quick.” The Queen lamented sorrowfully.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have another to worry about soon enough.”

The Queen’s expression became gravely serious as she glanced down, then over to her healthy son whom was about to start bouncing off the walls.

“I hope so.”

***

The King stared out at the distant glittering city of Austice from the window of his study while swirling the red wine in his goblet thoughtfully. The castle was quiet as most of its occupants had tucked themselves into bed, and the new heat of the day had once again dissolved under the inky night sky.

The study was in the front right tower of the castle, its walls lined with shelves holding books, scrolls, maps, and trinkets. A tapestry depicting a man and woman in a lush garden hung over the hearth, with two plush armchairs facing the now cool grate. There was a small square table in the center of the room, and a desk along the same wall as the door.

The King allowed very few individuals into the room, and was waiting for one of those privileged few, when he heard their knock.

“Come in Lee.”

The mage strode in, his cloak and staff not on his person, and instead he wore a dark blue short-sleeved tunic showing his powerful arms and broad shoulders.

Yes, it was a well-hidden secret that the mage was in fact incredibly strong and healthy despite being in his sixties (though often mistaken for his fifties), but he preferred that people remain unaware of the fact. He believed it messed with the sacred image mages were to uphold.

“Good evening your highness.” Lee bowed gracefully after closing the door behind himself.

“Has the well water problem been fixed in town?”

“It has. Some birds had nested down on one of the stones, and their excrement was poisoning the well.”

The King didn’t hide his look of disgust.

“Thank you for handling that. Would you like a nightcap?”

“No thank you my liege. I will have the full report on your desk by lunchtime tomorrow.”

Norman nodded in understanding as he cast his eyes down and sipped from his goblet.

“About the new cook…” Lee started slowly, and Norman immediately straightened his posture.

“He’s a witch.”

The King blinked in surprise.

“A male witch? Aren’t those quite rare?”

“They are. Perhaps only twenty percent of the witch population is men.”

“What element is he aligned with?”

“I do not know, but I suspect air.”

The ruler of the continent frowned, and placed his goblet down on the square table while gesturing for the mage to sit.

“How is it you do not know his element when you discovered he was a witch? I thought your identifying spell could tell both?”

“It can, but he wouldn’t let me close enough to see.”

“Then how is it you know he is a witch.”

“He knew not to let me come closer, and was openly hostile towards myself.” The King’s expression fell as he shook his head unconvinced.

“He could just be particular about his personal space, and to be honest, I have been receiving a few complaints about his temperament. I do not think we should get ahead of ourselves in our assumptions.”

“Most people are either a little in awe or fearful of me when we meet. Only witches are disdainful.” There was a dip in the mage’s tone at the word ‘witches’, which made one of Norman’s eyebrows quirk upwards.

“I know there has been a lot of misconceptions about witches, but you are an open minded man, Lee. What is it about them you dislike?”

The mage let out a breath, and touched his forehead briefly before attempting to explain.

“Mages and witches have never gotten along. Witches are born with magic as a part of them as their blood or bones. Mages have to work, and study for years to master what a witch can sometimes do from the time they can walk, depending on their strengths. Mages are better of course because we are not limited to a single element, but against a powerful witch, even the best of us might have some troubles.”

Norman noticed that his friend sounded a tad biased.

“Lee, I heard somewhere recently that there have been witches with mutated abilities… what does this mean?”

“It means that their powers are branching out from their elements, though are still rooted in them. For example, one well-known mutation that has occurred was a woman whom could speak to, and be understand by animals. It is rooted in air as a means of moving and understanding sound.”

“Ah. That explains that witch in the south being an already legendary healer. If magic is a part of her proficiency it makes sense. How many varied mutations have been reported?”

“That I know of? Perhaps ten. However, they are atypical.”

The King nodded sagely as he pondered the new information. Witches were an infrequent enough phenomenon, that he hadn’t really given them any thought. Norman had been suspecting the cook as a spy for Troivack despite Annika’s doubts, but if the man was a witch and a spy? He could be a real threat.

“Why do witches dislike mages?” He asked offhandedly as his worries began to climb.

Lee looked as though he wanted to go on a tirade as his eyes welled with thousands of emotions- the largest one being annoyance. However, he managed to calm himself before speaking.

“They dislike us because of how we came to be. The first mage was a man whom resented not having any means to use magic, and so he badgered the Gods his entire life. A year before his death, the Green Man decided he would reward his tenacity, despite it being against the wishes of the Goddess. He gave the dying man the archaic language, and knowledge of magic that would flow power from the Green man himself to us. To help amplify this connection, he even guided us to crystals that would help us. The first mage passed the sacred practice and crystals on to his sons, whom carried on his legacy.”

“Why does that bother the witches?” Norman shook his head perplexed at hearing the tale.

“Witches came to be by the creation of the Goddess-, which is why even male witches are ‘witches’, instead of warlocks. Their powers come from the feminine half of the Gods. They believe the mages (or ‘wizards’ as some call us), to be tyrants whom have gone against the natural order and laws of life. It has been an ancient feud that I am ashamed to admit I am a part of.”

The King let silence settle between the two of them as he continued processing the information, and dwelling on the problem of a powerful foe being under the same roof.

“While I do not like the cook as a witch or a man, I do not believe he is a spy.”

The King’s eyes snapped up. How had the mage known his thoughts?

“Why not?”

“A spy would be pestering people for information. This witch alienates nearly everyone, and wants to be left alone. While I agree we should be wary of him, I believe he is a witch that wants to peacefully exist while making a living. Which is the truth of most of their kind.”

Norman leaned back in his chair, and picked up his goblet while deep in thought.

“Should I contact the Coven of Wittica? As a civilian under my ruling he would have had to register with them.”

“You can, though they are incredibly difficult to get any information from unless it is of the utmost importance. If he has committed no crimes, they will not share anything about him.”

“Knowing if he has a criminal background is still worthwhile. I will send them a messenger pigeon tomorrow.”

Lee nodded in acknowledgment, and leaned back in his own chair.

Quiet crept up once more between the two men as they sat with their own thoughts over the matter.

“His cooking is incredible, I will give him that.” The mage uttered after several minutes had ticked by.

“The steak tonight nearly made me weep. I have never had meat fall apart in my mouth like that.” The King declared his eyes glimmering at the memory.

“I agree. I wonder how in the world he gets the potatoes so creamy…” The mage was unaware of the awe that had entered his voice.

“Not to mention the dill sauce?” Norman gently touched his mouth at the memory.

Lee half groaned half moaned as he recalled the creamy sauce that he would have eaten on its own it was so diabolically delicious.

The two continued discussing their favorite meals made by the cook for at least another hour before they retired to their own chambers, each one already hungry for breakfast the next day.

*

Fin scratched under Kraken's chin as he lay on the cool ground of his kitchen.

"What an oddly uneventful day..."

The kitten's reply was 'booping' the cook's nose without opening his eyes, signaling that it was time for a restful sleep, and the chatter needed to end.