Conthwaite Castle...

With the Battle of Freeburg over, the Otherworlder heroes were invited to a feast by Martin’s mother, Countess Esther of Conthwaite. The orc prisoners that had been taken, were transferred to the custody of the Royal Army, and the Fortress of Freeburg was re-garrisoned by, hopefully, more loyal troops.

Apparently, as far as feasts went, this one was somewhat smaller than usual, but that seemed to be the case with the war being so fierce. Still, there was apparently going to be dancing and entertainment.

And that was why Martin was taking Frances and Elizabeth to the tailor’s shop. Elizabeth had no suitable clothes for the feast, which Martin saw as a travesty. Frances did, having brought with her one of her nicer dresses, a light-blue affair with a high collar. The moment she tried it on, however, she realized that it was much tighter in certain places.

She’d been downcast with embarrassment, until Elizabeth and Martin, examining her in her dress, reached a unanimous conclusion.

“You’re not getting fatter, Frances,” Martin had said in a very officious tone.

Elizabeth had nodded. “The dress is tighter at the arms, around the chest, and it’s too short, ill-fitting over your hips. You’re growing.”

“Really?” Frances had whispered.

“Yeah, it just needs some adjustment.” Elizabeth had giggled with glee. “We’re going on a shopping trip!”

The tailor had indeed agreed with her friends’ opinion. And so, after getting their measurements, the three friends bought sandwiches at a streetside hawker and started to walk through the town’s streets.

Martin’s home was the castle Macedin, the seat of all the Conthwaite lords and ladies, but he spent much of his childhood in its adjoining town of Macedin’s Rest. A bustling, busy town on a rise just under the castle, it had winding streets that zig-zagged up and down, with houses balancing on uneven slopes. The coming fall turned the leaves brown and scattered them onto the cobblestone roads, making the town incredibly picturesque.

The knight led them to what he claimed was the best spot in the town. A small patch of wild garden stuck between two warehouses, broken by huge boulders, with scraggly trees growing between them. It loomed over the valley of Conthwaite, allowing the three to just appreciate the view of the beautiful valley.

“So, are you heading off to Salpheron next?” Martin asked.

“Actually, Edana said that we’re going to travel to the city of Erlenberg. So she’s coming to Conthwaite to meet me first and stay a few days.” Frances bowed her head. “She said she’s arriving tomorrow, or really late tonight. But I… I’m sure we’ll see each other again, soon.”

“We can keep up by writing, and through mirror messages. When I get the opportunity, I’ll ask to visit you,” Elizabeth said.

Martin nodded. “It’ll be easier than you might think. With fall coming, and winter soon after, I’m pretty sure we will. It’s too late in the year for anybody to embark on a new campaign. It’ll be a good time for everybody to rest.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “I don’t think I will get much time to rest, though. Igraine said she’s been more than satisfied with my performance and said she’s ready to begin my training. I’m going to join her at Leipmont Forest. I… sense she’s going to go hard on me.”

“Yes, but she is a really kind person. She won’t ever let you get hurt,” said Frances, giving her friend a reassuring smile.

Elizabeth nodded slowly, with a bit of doubt, but also understanding. Mostly because she did sense that Igraine was a good person, but hadn’t seen much of the side that Frances was describing.

“What are you doing in Conthwaite, Martin?” Elizabeth asked.

“Administrative work. We need to bring in the last harvest before winter arrives and then there are supplies to be prepared for the next year’s campaigns. With my sister across the continent in Roranoak, fighting with the Erisdalian Expeditionary Force, it falls to me to help my mother ready Conthwaite for the winter.” He sighed. “I wish you could spend winter with us. There are evening dances, board games, and other activities to pass the time. At least you’ll both be here for tonight’s feast and dance.”

“We had those too in Salpheron. Not the dances, though.” Frances blinked and her eyes widened. “Oh no!”

“Frances? What’s wrong?” Martin asked, alarmed at the panic in the mage’s voice. Elizabeth sprang to her feet, ready to rush to Frances’s side.

“I don’t know how to dance!” Frances exclaimed.

Martin blinked owlishly and was blindsided by Elizabeth’s panicked scream. “Oh no! Martin, you’ll have to teach us!”

The knight pulled himself to his feet, confused. “Wait, hold up, you don’t know how to dance?”

“No, we weren’t taught. I mean, we were taught some dancing in our high school, but that was an experience everybody wanted to forget.” Elizabeth grimaced. “I sucked. Clomping around with my big feet and long legs. I nearly dragged my partners off their feet.”

She hesitated for a moment. Frances reached out and touched her friend’s shoulder. “I just remember you seemed to actually enjoy yourself, which was nice. I enjoyed dancing with you when we were paired.”

Elizabeth blinked. “We danced? Wait, why were we paired? They were pairing boys with girls.”

Frances swallowed. “We had more girls than boys for that class… and not a lot of people wanted to touch Foul Francey.”

Elizabeth’s jaw unhinged for a second and she growled. “Right, that’s it, we’re learning how to dance properly, even if we’ll be dancing between the three of us. Martin—” she raised her hands in as best of an imitation of a dance posture as she could think “—instruct us please.”

Martin snorted, but his lips were set in a determined smile, and he had drawn himself up straighter. Extending his hands, he reached out and took Elizabeth’s. “Right, watch closely, Frances. To start with, this is not how you hold someone. There are actually no male and female parts in Erisdalian dance. We just have a leader and a follower. For the moment, we’re going to learn a simple…”

While they were never going to become master dancers after an afternoon session, Frances and Elizabeth learnt a lot by watching Martin guide the other, by being guided by Martin himself, and finally by dancing together under Martin’s watchful eye.

It was so that when it finally came time for the feast, they felt far more comfortable. After all, they knew that when the dance portion came, they wouldn’t be embarrassing themselves too much.

The feast was glorious. Roast pork and chicken, sausages and mash, fresh vegetables, steamed pork and vegetable buns that seemed unique to Conthwaite, and lots of Conthwaite beer. Then there were the desserts. Cakes, pastries, tarts and pies that the Otherworlders and the Erisdalian Rangers stuffed themselves with.

All the while, they watched a play put on. A comedy that nobody really got the plot of, but it had most in stitches by the end, as it involved some amazing stunt work and pratfalls. Frances suspected that there was a mage assisting things behind the scenes because some of the falls the costumed actors took, looked rather painful, or downright impossible. There was one large performer who bounced across the floor like a ball, and yet somehow came out of the bounce to land perfectly on his feet.

Then the dancing came.

All the Rangers celebrating with them knew how to dance. The Otherworlders mostly simply tried to follow along as the musicians played a lively jig.

Sure enough, Frances and Elizabeth still were pretty bad at dancing, but they were much better than their classmates. Everybody laughed and giggled with each other, for nobody wanted to spoil the festive mood carried by the music.

Frances, for her part, stayed as far away from Jessica and Leila as possible. She was helped by her friends who lent their eyes to the task, whisking her aside if necessary.

Having danced their feet tired, the three retired to a small table where they were joined by Nicole and Jim.

“This is a fantastic party!” Nicole whooped, slamming herself down onto the bench.

Martin, grinning, offered a mug of beer. “More?”

“I think she shouldn’t,” stammered Jim, and Nicole, although grumbling, didn’t take the mug.

“It’s going to be very weird when we get back home and we can’t try any alcohol,” Nicole quipped.

“Mm-hmm! I wonder how our beer tastes in comparison to theirs?” Elizabeth mused as she caressed a mug. Everybody had decided that, given she was nearly fifteen anyway, she deserved a mug.

As the conversation continued and Frances listened, she felt a pang of sorrow. Because, aside from Martin, she knew that after they killed the Demon King her friends were going to go home, to Earth. She knew she was staying in Durannon and that when she died, she would die in Durannon. She’d never see Nicole, Jim, or Elizabeth ever again. And that was if all of them survived the war.

The emotions welled up so suddenly, so heavily in her chest that she sprang to her feet.

“I think I need a moment alone, everyone. I’m going to go for a bit of a walk.” Frances smiled when Martin and Elizabeth glanced at her with concern. “I’ll come back for the night games.”

“Alright. I will check up on you if you don’t show up, though.” Elizabeth waggled her finger at Frances as she said that, prompting both to chuckle.

“I’ll be right behind her,” said Martin with a grin. “I still need to introduce you both to my moms.”

Frances, still managing to smile, nodded and made her escape quick. She managed to just get out of the ballroom before her eyes moistened and her smile shattered. Staunching her eyes with her handkerchief, she made her way to a spot she noticed earlier.

Martin had given them a really long tour of Conthwaite Castle, a grand, yet, archaic-looking stone fortress that stood upon a hill of black granite. He’d also shown Frances a small greenhouse garden that was maintained in the castle.

In the night, lit only by some oil lamps, the leaves of the fronds and flowers cast broken shadows on the paved ground. Frances, still sniffling slightly, walked to where she recalled there was a sitting table and two chairs.

As she rounded a rather odd-looking frond that she made a note to ask Edana about later, she heard two people whispering. There was somebody here already. Disappointed, Frances turned to leave.

But then she heard something that made her blood freeze.

“I thought you gave Helias the plans! Told him every detail!”

“I did. But there was no possible way we could have known the Otherworlders would bypass every single trap and then drop a cliff on his army.”

Frances clamped her hands over her open mouth. She could not make a sound. Her head was screaming at her to run.

“Freeburg Castle fell to treachery two nights ago,” Edana’s voice echoed in her mind. The Great Tower had been trapped. They’d rigged the bridge to explode. They had an orc army ready to reinforce them. The whole plan was exposed. They had a traitor in their camp.

Or traitors, from the sound of it.

With small, light steps, Frances turned around and walked towards the exit. She didn’t have Alanna, her sword. She did have Ivy’s Sting, but she’d rather not fight. The important thing was to run, and get her news to someone.

But… she didn’t know who was talking. If she didn’t know that, she would have no idea how to identify the traitor. She needed to look at their faces.

Frances swallowed. That meant getting closer. Or… apprehending these traitors herself.

There was no time for further thought. Frances took a deep breath, steeled herself and drew Ivy’s Sting with her right hand, left one hitching up her dress.

“In any case, we need to get you all out of here. They know they have traitors in their midst. Hell, Edana Firehand is arriving tonight, if not tomorrow. If we wait any longer, we might not be able to extract.”

Frances thought the speaker sounded familiar, but there was no time to think. She had to act. She leapt out, her notes filling the greenhouse.

The two traitors were thrown backwards. One smashed into a bed of flowers, tulips she thought, and rolled head over heels.

Yet, somehow, the other yelled a word of power and landed on his feet with almost cat-like grace. He drew a wand himself.

Frances switched to a different set of chords, and mentally apologizing to Martin, directed the sunflowers that grew beside the stocky traitor to wrap around him. All the while, she began the process of casting her lightning spell.

But, as the sunflower stems wrapped themselves around the struggling traitor, human colored peach skin faded, giving way to a tan-coloured skin. A tail suddenly appeared, and the illusion, for that was what it was, shattered.

Frances found herself staring at an all too familiar trogre. His pointed ears alert, black eyes filled with anger.

“Timur?” she gasped, hesitating.

Timur blinked, but unlike Frances, he didn’t hesitate. He ripped his wand arm from his side and before Frances could react, he yelled a word of power. Frances felt the air in front of her expand and she was knocked backward. Her vision blurring, she hit the ground and slammed into what seemed like the trunk of a tree.

Tears filled her eyes as she scrabbled for balance. She felt surprise, fear and betrayal all at the same time, in a confused flux. Desperately she raised her wand and screamed a note, throwing all her power into it.

The keening noise that rang out shattered several panes of glass and everybody in the entire Conthwaite castle could hear it.

“Help! Traitors in the greenhouse— ”

Pain exploded across Frances’s cheek as something hard hit her and she knew nothing more.

But it was enough.

In a corner of the ballroom, Nicole and Jim were holding each other on a bench. Their lips were nearing for a kiss. The scream made them freeze and spring to their feet.

In the same ballroom. Elizabeth broke off from her dance with Martin and raced toward the direction of the noise. Martin bellowed orders for the guards to rally to him and to lock down the castle.

Igraine, at the top of a tower, quietly watching the half-moon with a tankard of wine in her hand, rolled off her borrowed couch and seized her sword.

In the stables, a white-robed figure with a green staff was just exiting her carriage. She was smiling eagerly, ready to meet with her dear student. Frances’s magically-magnified scream wiped the smile from Edana’s face. The pain in it sent cold horror straight into her chest and lent her speed as she ran towards the main castle building.

Timur pulled back his fist, wringing it with pain. He’d been so desperate to quiet the human who was ruining everything that he’d punched without adjusting his strength. His ears still ringing, he slowly drew his dagger. He needed to end the enemy mage. Yet, with the adrenaline fading from his veins, he hesitated as it suddenly dawned on him he would be killing his opponent in cold blood.

That was when he realized that the very pretty human mage, was actually a girl, of only fifteen. The cream-coloured silk dress had made her appear more mature. Timur’s eyes narrowed. The bruised face of the girl was known to him. He gently turned the girl’s face so he could examine it better.

Timur gasped and felt his heart sink as he realized who he’d just battered into unconsciousness. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Frances! Please be alive. Please be alive!” He slipped his finger underneath her chin to find her pulse and was relieved to feel that she was alive.

A human woman ran into the garden and cursed. “What the fuck happened—Russell!”

“I’m fine, Claudia!” muttered Russell, who was pulling himself up out of the flowerbed. “We were overheard. Prince Timur knocked her out.”

“Well she’s alerted the entire castle! Timur, slit her throat and let’s scatter!” Claudia hissed.

Timur froze.

There was no way in hell he was going to slit Frances’s throat. Not after everything she’d done for him. Especially since he knew that if he killed her, he’d be sending her back to the monsters that were her parents.

It would be a fate worse than death. He could not imagine putting the kind, caring girl in front of him at their mercy. He would never forgive himself.

That, and he’d die shortly afterward because the magic she provided would stop keeping him alive.

But he couldn’t just leave her. It’d taken an Alavari agent weeks to cultivate the trust of Russell, Claudia and their traitor friends. Weeks of promising a life away from the war, land in Alavaria, and a way for them to escape their dreary lives as foot soldiers and servants. However, Timur didn’t have the same relationship that agent did. He was here only to help with the extraction. If he left Frances, he suspected they’d turn on him in an instant.

“No.” He forced a grin to his face, even if it brought a sour feeling to his lips. “This is Frances, beloved student of Edana Firehand. The only way we’re getting out of this alive is if we let her go, which I don’t think you want, or take her as a hostage.”

Claudia and Russell turned to each other, whispering briefly, before nodding.

“Yeah, good call. Take her to the safe room. They’ll be searching the castle for her, so you both need to lie low.” Claudia grimaced. “I hope you have that escape plan ready.”

“It is. Now let’s get out of here so we can actually use it,” said Timur evenly. Claudia helped Russell up and began to walk him out of the greenhouse. When she wasn’t looking, Timur gently picked up Frances in his arms, wincing as he realized she was still quite light.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.