Young Writers Society

Ceria

I relaxed back onto the bed. Well if I was rescued my family wouldn't let me here the end of it, I would be terribly embarrassed. But it was better then getting killed. I would be back home soon, and had nothing to worry about. I closed my eyes, then suddenly heard wild flapping. Fanchon was flapping in one of the servants faces.
"Here Fanchon." I said, sitting up and holding out my arm. He came and landed. I ruffled his feathers, Oh how I loved this bird.
"Someone please, fetch me something to write with. I said, not taking my eyes off of my little messenger dove. I looked up as one of the servants handed me a calligraphy pen and a scrap of parchment paper. I quickly scribbled down.
Do not worry, I'm fine, attacked by mercenaries and rescued by Acotegs. Don't laugh. I should be home soon. Love you. ~Ceria~ I handed it to him and said.
"You know what to do, my beloved shouldn't worry." He chirped and flew off. They better not laugh at me for having to be rescued. My brother often told me I should be 'A damsel in distress.' I laid back down. Good lord I was tired.

Fanchon

My Ceria is okay! And that servant won't hurt her, I made sure of that. This is great, the wind feels great...I ruffle my feathers and dive downward before pushing my wings against the wind and sailing back up. Hour after hour of flying passes by, and every moment is invigorating and beautiful.

One of the many reasons I love being me is that there is never a boring moment. Either I'm battling to the death, or I'm sailing above the world. Of course when they put me in my cage I get a little bored, and I let them know it. I certainly do let them know I'm bored, and I have no idea why it bothers them. So I just tell them a little louder...then they get all touchy and mean.

Eventually the castle comes into view and I swoop into one of the open windows. I fly high, and soon enough I find the boy I allowed my Ceria to be with and perch onto his hair. He reaches up and I step into his finger and hold out my leg. Then he unties the parchment, opens it, and reads what it says. "Thank you, Fanchon," he grunts, dismissing me. Proud of myself, I fly out to a tree I like and look below for some mice.

Callista:

Yawning, I shifted slightly, moving into the sun. I was outside, beneath a large tree and staring up at the sky through it's branches. It was boring in the castle, but not so much now. I'd seen the Neseradian princess arrive and had been put in her room as her maid. After handing her the parchment and the pen when bird flew in, I had gone outside and was now where I was, which was under the tree.

Suddenly a shadow fell over me and I was staring up at one of the Generals. I blinked and sat up. It was General Fallion, and he was scowling.

"You're needed inside," he snapped. "Now go!"

I shot to my feet and scampered away, towards the castle.

Howell

A silence settled over the room at our leader's bold suggestion. We let his words sink in. I know the perfect man for the job. Me. I thought this over, running through a series of events that could happen should he decide to go through with this plan. It all came back to the same thing: bad, bad idea.

Apparently the others came to the same conclusion I did at the same moment, for we all started talking at once. Baxter and I went so far as to stand as we practically shouted at our commander over the raised voices of the others, though our words melded into one repeating message.

"Sir, we can't allow you to do this! You're too important! You could be killed!"

Marlon sat there, watching us with an unreadable expression. I clenched my fists and drove it into the table, issuing a loud thud to emphasize my point. Marlon's gaze darkened slightly and after a moment he raised his hand and called for silence.

"Sir, we can't allow you to do this!" I seethed, trying my best to keep my voice hostile and failing miserably. He fixed me with a steady glare and reluctantly I quieted, sinking back down into my chair with a low growl. The others seemed as displeased with the idea as I was, though none would look the commander in the eye directly.

"I appreciate your concern for my well being," Marlon started calmly, looking at each of us in turn. "However, it is necessary that I do this. There isn't anything we can do without the information I intend to gather, so why should I not get it myself? I have been to Acoteg before; I would recognize the officials and be able to avoid them. I would go in disguised, so that they would not recognize me."

"It's still too risky," Thomas said, his voice controlled. His body language, however, betrayed his true emotions that simmered just below the surface. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "What if you are discovered?"

"Should I fail, it would be easier for me to escape by transforming into a gryphon than it would be for any of you who would have to fight your way out. Alternatively, if I am captured, they would simply ransom me off. They are not blind idiots; they would know that my death by their hands would bring all of Gor Nathal to their doorstep, and I doubt they are prepared for the Neseradans as well as us."

"General Joram is a tricky character," Howie spoke up. "If you are caught, it's likely he'll stage your death as an accident and blame it on your audacity to infiltrate the castle in the first place."

Marlon shook his head. "Then I just won't get caught. As it is, I doubt Joram or Tigad would kill me instead of offering me up for ransom. If it were one of you, however, the story would be different. I don't doubt that your lives would be in very real danger should you be caught snooping around the castle. It has to be me."

"But sir," I tried to reason. "It's still too-"

"Howl, I am going. Do I need to make this an order?"

I grit my teeth, looking away. "No."

GENERAL TATHIEL

I stared at the note for a moment before spitting to the side in disgust. "Saved by them my ass," I grumbled out loud. I shook my head and shoved the note in my pocket, disputing with myself whether or not to show it to the king. He would certainly care, but was it worth it? Worth what?

I sighed and made my way back to the palace. I had just gotten out of the place, searching for clues as to where Ceria could have gotten off to. Yes, I suppose the king would want to take a look at the note.

My heart was hammering in my chest. They were plotting something, I could feel it. If they dared hurt her in any way, I would kill every single one of them. Break their necks, slit their throats...

You should send Ceria a message back. My subconscious suggested. That would have to wait until I had access to a pen and paper though, which meant going back to the palace anyways.

"Fachon, why don't you come along?" I asked, raising my right arm, index finger extended for the bird.

Joram
The girl had actually slapped the king. She’d recognized him, Joram knew; that scowl hadn’t been the sort one addressed to complete strangers. And she’d hit him while knowing who he was, and had even pulled out her dagger! Instinct and training had him reaching for his sword, of course, but he was only too quick to release it when signaled to.

Oh but Joram liked this little queen of theirs already.

There were times when Joram forgot how adept the king was at coming up with plausible lies and spinning them without even batting an eye. Perhaps it was that he himself had never been all that good at it, perhaps it was just respect owed from one manipulator to another; in any case he didn’t even bother hiding his smile as he watched Tigad soothe the girl down from her panic. Quite a good lie, too: it cleared them of all blame, even painted the king as the hero, and shifted the responsibility of the kidnapping onto those annoying mercenaries.

He couldn’t wait to see how that turned out. Dutifully he followed as the king escorted the princess back to her quarters, showed proper concern at the injury, and took his leave when ordered to.

The first order of business was to get the guard. Easy enough: it only involved waltzing into the guard room, handpicking a number of those he knew were good enough and sending them off.

“Make it look like you’re there for her protection,” he’d told them after briefing them on the official story, “not to keep her prisoner. Be charming, polite, and don’t let her wander. Easy, yes?”

They nodded. Good. He whirled about, about to leave, when he paused. “Send for Emilian, would you? And tell him to keep quiet about it.” One of the younger guards nodded and moved out. Only then did Joram head for the throne room. Had to check on the king, after all.

…or not, if he wasn’t there. Still seeing the physician, maybe, bearing with the old man’s fussing, or planning a course of action, most likely. Sometimes it felt like the man never took a break. As long as he kept Joram on his toes, there’d be no complaints on that front.

He was grinning as thoughts of what might happen next ran through his head – however well-thought the lie Tigad had fed the princess had been, it probably wouldn’t hold. And then…

His already brisk pace had gradually quickened so that by the time he’d reached the doors he was almost running, and when Emilian came into sight his momentum was too great to stop in time. He stumbled, managed, through some miracle, to keep his balance, though Emilian wasn’t quite so lucky.

“Is something going on? You called for me.”

“Walk with me.” He didn’t have to wait, or check that the other would obey; Emilian was already falling into step by his side and looking askance at him. He waited until they’d reached less-travelled hallways, where there were less chances of being overheard.

“You may have heard we have a new guest?” He suspected there were at least whispers. Sworn to secrecy or not, soldiers talked to each other, and the courtyard had not been empty when the princess had arrived. “Our dear king has made his move.” The gleeful, slightly manic grin had faded, but there was still that glint. “Caught himself a little Neseradan bird, and you should see her – such a pretty little wild thing she is! She hit him, do you know? Knew who he was, yet pulled a weapon on him!” He still had her dagger tucked at his belt. Maybe he’d keep it. He smiled fondly. “We shall such fun with her around.”

“What do you want me to do?” Dutiful Emilian. What would he do without him? Joram smiled, looped an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. He always got touchy when in a good mood.

“Keep an eye out. Listen to what the people say. We rescued her from Gor Nathal mercenaries, yes?” In other words: make sure no one spreads rumors that would affect them negatively.

He looked down, seemed to notice the blood and the dirt for the first time. “Having fun with the new recruits, were you? Good man. How are they coming along?” He leaned over, as though sharing a secret he couldn’t keep to himself anymore. “We just might need them soon.”

Kai

I pushed open the door of my house. "Papa? I'm home!" I called. I was hit with a tidal wave of muscle, from my brothers to my father to our giant dog. I hugged them all, laughing. I pulled away. "And I brought..."

"PRESENTS!"

I chuckled. "For Lombu..."

"YES! New pliers!"

"For Jallek..."

"Gloves! Kai, you're awesome!"

"Haha, glad you noticed. For Papa..."

"Oo, iron pellets!"

"Zuyi-wait, or Zili-" I pretended to get the twins mixed up before finally giving them both a white package.

"SWEETS!"

"And for Rufus." I said, bending down to meet the face of our dog. He woofed.

"A big ole steak!" I tossed him a slab of meat. He snapped it out of the air. An hour later, we were around the table, eating laughing, and overall being the family we were. I had almost completely forgotten what I had seen at the castle.

Someone knocked at the door. I shouted that I would get it and opened the door. Who I saw made me want to curl into a ball and cry myself to death.

>Anyone<

Fanchon

I look at General Tathiel's index finger, held out expectantly. Stepping onto his finger, I tell him, Only because my Ceria likes you. You know how lucky you are that I'm here for your protection? He only smiles.

"Yeah, that's right little bird. You have a cute chirp, you know?" This one is kinda stupid. Why do I bother talking if he doesn't listen? Oh, well. We walk back to the palace, and he searches for some parchment.

Tigad

"Really, Sire, you need your rest. That pressure you've been feeling on your chest is tied to overwork, I am certain of it." Ilgard hovered around his king, concern etched upon his wisened features.

"You know I cannot sleep while there is work yet to be done."

"Will not, is more like it." The elderly physician turned away a moment to snatch a bottle off a cluttered counter. "I keep telling you to take spoonful of sleeping draught, but you never do. Now look at you! Going gray while you're yet young--!"

"I'm not that young--"

"--and doing things a man your age should leave for the younger and sprier--"

"I'm not that old, either--"

"--and generally running yourself into an early grave! Really, Sire, one of these days, you'll work yourself to death, and there will be naught I can do to save you."

"Yes, well, if that day ever comes, I give you permission to say 'I told you so.'"

"Sire!" The physician threw his hands up in exasperation and hobbled around the room in agitation. "I've know you since before you were born, and I knew your father since before he was born. I fully expect you to outlive me, and if you don't...!"

Tigad couldn't help but laugh. "Ilgard, you worry too much."

"No, Sire. I worry just the right amount. You, however, do not worry enough, nor do you take proper care of yourself!"

"Calm down, Ilgard," Tigad said, mirth in his voice, as he reached out to halt the old man's flailing arms. "You'll break the flask if you keep that up, and then what will I take?"

"Oh! So you'll take the draught?"

"No."

The physician sighed, more a loud wheeze than anything. "You really should."

"Yes, well, I won't, and there's nothing you can do to make me," the king replied with a smug smile.

Ilgard gave a low sound of disgust and turned away, suddenly stiffening. There was a gleam in his eyes when he turned back to his king, a gleam Tigad thoroughly disliked.

"I'll start slipping it into your food." And he could. And would.

"Please don't, Ilgard. I can't be falling asleep mid-feast."

"Which is why you should take a spoonful of sleeping draught every night before you go to bed."

Tigad groaned, finally defeated. There was no stopping Ilgard when he was set on something, and he had been set on the draught issue for quite some time. "Very well then," he conceded, a little less graceful and more sulky.

"And I expect you to go to bed at a more reasonable time!"

"One thing at at time, Ilgard! One thing at a time! Next thing I know, you'll be telling me to eat more vegetables."

"That actually wouldn't be such a bad idea. You really--"

"Ilgard."

The physician looked at him all-too innocently. "Yes, Sire?"

"Not now. I have a guest and affairs of state to see to."

"As you will, Sire. But if I find out you haven't been taking the draught--"

"Yes, yes! Slip into my meals. I know. Goodbye, Ilgard."

"Sire." Ilgard bowed and stepped clear of the path to the door, which he had been monopolizing for the past hour or so.

With a barely audible sigh of relief, Tigad hurried to the door in as unhurried-looking a fashion as he could manage. Ilgard had his heart in the right place, and there was also the matter of him being the type to chase after something the harder it tried to run away....

He arrived a short time later outside the princess's rooms and was pleased to find a guard in place -- then again, he should have expected no less from Joram. The man was ever efficient and dutiful.

Sparing only the slightest of nods for the guards, Tigad stepped up to the door and gave it a series of solid raps.

"Who is it?" came the princess's voice.

"Tigad," he replied, deliberately dropping the title.

Though muffled by the thick wood of the door, Tigad could hear the frantic rustling of cloth and whispered commands as the princess made herself presentable. A moment later, the door was opened by a servant and her voice called, "Come in."

Tigad stepped inside to find the princess seated on one of the plush couches that had cost him and his country dearly. She gestured for him to sit down opposite her, and he obliged, trying not to let his discomfort show; the cushions were so plush and soft that he felt like he was being swallowed by them.

"Princess Ceria."

"King Tigad."

"How have you found your stay here thus far?"

"Very pleasant. The staff have been more than accommodating, and the rooms very comfortably furnished. However, there is one thing that concerns me..."

"And what would that be, Princess?"

"It's something quite ridiculous, really, but... well, I have heard the servants whispering among themselves about how I will soon be their queen, which is quite ridiculous because I am currently engaged to General Tathiel." Ceria looked down at her dress to hide the faint flush of her cheeks.

"Ah," Tigad voiced, as he quickly ran through a series of plausible lies until one came to him fully formed. He also made a mental note to deal with this Tathiel discretely. "You know how the smallfolk are with their rumors and speculations, and it is no secret that, since the day my wife died, and our child with her, my people have eagerly looked to my finding a new queen."

"Oh, yes, I had heard of your loss. How long has it been now? Ten years?"

"Eleven."

"A long time, in any case."

"A long time, yes." Tigad sighed. "But let us not dwell on the past and such unhappy things. Is there anything you need or wish? You need only ask, and I shall do my best to provide."

"Actually, if it is not too rude of me to ask, when will I be able to depart for Neserada?"

Tigad smiled easily. "As soon as you are healed."

"But I am well enough to travel."

"Perhaps, but Princess, you are far from healed. Consider your people, as well. Would it not distress them to see you in such a visible state of injury?" Tigad reasoned, raising a hand to his own cheek to further emphasize his point.

"Oh. I hadn't considered... I suppose it would distress them."

"When all visible traces of your injury have faded away, and when we are sure you will be safe from any more abduction attempts by the mercenaries, I will be more than happy to return you to Neserada." A lie, of course, but a pretty one. "Now that reminds me, I need to send your father a letter to assure him of your safety."

"Oh, there's no need for that. I sent him a message myself."

Tigad blinked in surprise. "You did? ...How, if I may ask?"

"I have a messenger bird, a dove named Fanchon. He's a fierce little thing, and I've had him since I was eleven." Ceria smiled, happy to talk about her pet.

Tigad smiled politely in return, though inwardly he fumed. How had no one not seen the bird? How had no one not reported it? It was fortunate that the princess had believed his lie, else... Tigad dared not think of what would have happened. A disaster, for sure. As it was, there was no proof for the Neseradians that the Acotegs were responsible for abducting Ceria, and so no cause for them to go to war. At least, he hoped so.

But he was in the middle of a conversation; he really shouldn't allow his attention to wander off.

"...and after that, he would let Tathiel come near me without attacking him."

"I am very sorry to interrupt you, Princess, but as enjoyable as your stories are, the needs of a kingdom do not stop calling." Tigad stood and bowed. "Perhaps some other time, you can tell me more?"

"Of course," Ceria said as she rose to curtsey. "I look forward to it."

"In that case, I bid you a good day, Princess." With that, Tigad left to find Joram to inform him of the dove and the general, both of which needed taking care of in the way that Joram took care of things best.

The King of Neserada sat thoughtfully in his private quarters, considering his options and weighing every possible choice. He was still waiting for his messenger to return from the mercenaries, and was starting to get a little bit impatient. After sending off Tathiel, he addressed the rest of his party with a meaningful fair well. For the most part, they were of no use to him. His army was already assembled, and ready to leave on his command. Ghia knew well that Tigad's army had his quite out numbered, which was the only thing that kept him from giving the orders. When it came to his daughter, he could not make any mistakes. Her dear mother was already gone, and it pained him terribly to think of her being taken from him.

General Tathiel was feeling this as well; Ghia could see it in the man's eyes. Speaking of Tathiel, Ghia wondered where the man had wandered off to in his search for Ceria. His loyal friend and companion, Talon, would be a great asset in searching for her. A furious knock at the king's door roused him from his thoughts, and threw the old wood came a familiar voice.

"Your highness, Fanchon has returned with a note from Ceria!" Tathiel was fuming, and the king could feel it, even through the heavy door. He shot up from his seat and demanded Tathiel enter. The general responded and nearly broke the door down before Ghia could finish his sentence. Fanchon was upon his hand, and started flapping his wings about at the sight of the king.

"Fanchon, fly to me." The bird took off across the room and landed on the king's shoulder. Ghia lovingly stroked the bird's feathers, "Thank you, dear friend, for everything." He turned to Tathiel and waited for him to tell him what the note said.

"Your highness, Ceria has confirmed our suspicions. She is under the watch of King Tigad and his men. They have led her to believe that she was saved from the mercenaries of Gor Nathal."

The king gritted his teeth together, and smashed his fist against the wall, sending Fanchon into a panic. They had been right, Tigad had the princess, but she seemed to be unharmed. Why would he take her, but not destroy her, or threaten to do so? What was this man, King Ghia's rival, planning to do with Ceria? And where was that messenger? Would the mercenaries send one of their own to negotiate terms?

"General..." Ghia sighed, calming himself. "She is most certainly unharmed, but for how long? Please, my friend, give me your insight on how I should handle these matters, for I fear that we would not stand a slight chance if we sent our men against theirs." The king thought for a moment, and glanced over at Fanchon, who had returned to Tathiel.

"Fanchon, as much as it will bother you, I must ask that you do not return to Ceria. If Tigad has discovered you, he will most certainly see that you are destroyed."

"But, your Highness, we must- " Tathiel objected as respectfully as possible, until the king stopped him.

"No, Tathiel. We must reveal nothing to them. I know it pains you, and me as well, but it is for her own good, as well as Fanchon's. As for now, seek out the mercenaries, I am getting quite impatient with them."

The Envoy from Neserada was led into the chamber. An old woman wearing a grey uniform stood near the desk.

"I'm looking for Commander Marlon Grey," the envoy said with a frown.

"Noble envoy, my name is Madeline Grey and Commander Grey is my son. I represent him in his absence. I have been instructed to apologize for any inconvenience his absence may cause, unfortunately I am not at liberty to discuss the nature of his absence as it is classified. Why are you frowning young man?" Madeline replied.

"Madam Grey, my instructions are very specific. I am to bring Commander Grey before His Majesty King Ghia to discuss business. Is there a possibility that he will return shortly?"

"There is that possibility, but the nature of his profession is such that he may not return at all. If your mission is urgent, then do not delay its completion. I am quite willing to travel with you to His Majesty and discuss terms with him. I would only need an hour to make the necessary preparations," she said in reply.

"I appreciate your speed, Madam Grey. I will be at the city gates in one hour."

Joining late (don't worry, I read everything and I'm clued in!)

To claim a specific character put, for example Princess at he top of the profile

Name: Lyss Campion

Age: 18

Country: Acoteg

Appearance: (please no anime)


Personality: Lyss is a sunny person. She likes bright colours and sweet food and running around barefoot. It's not what you'd expect, coming from the army's resident girl wonder, who can fence, shoot, sling and do about just everything else and barely break a sweat. She's always admired the court girls and princess, but has decided that really, dancing and dresses aren't what suit her, and is perfectly happy leading the life she currently is, helping train some of the new recruits, many of whom are older than she is. Finds herself awkward around other girls since she's not used to them, and often has difficulties making friends despite her outgoing personality. Can be subject to moodswings because of this and gets low sometimes, but generally picks herself back up.

Strengths: Any type of weaponry, running or jumping. Can make just about anyone laugh and makes a good first impression.

Weaknesses: Not very diplomatic or tactful, finds it hard to keep secrets or talk very seriously.

History: Lyss' whole family has been involved in the army- her father was a general up until his death a few years ago, her mother is head of the barracks and runs a tight ship, all three of her elder brothers are soldiers. Lyss, as a girl, came as a bit of a shock and they haven't had much idea of what to do with her over the eighteen years. Lyss spent her childhood on the side of a training ring, therefore, and knows how to handle a sword, bow and spear- not only did she undertake training, she showed an aptitude for it. The Acoteg generals are far too honourable to ask her to officially join, but they've got to admire her. In fact, perhaps she'd be the perfect person to help look after that Neseredan princess...

Up for love?: Sure.

Other: Not that I know of.

GENERAL TATHIEL

I paced back and forth across my chambers, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Fachon was sitting on the window sill, eyeing me and hooting. I stopped my infernal pacing long enough to stare at the dove. "What are you saying Fachon? Ceria always seemed to be able to understand you in some way or another. Why am I not able to?" I sighed and resumed my pacing.

I could send Fachon anyways... The bird was smart, maybe even more so than myself. Surely he would make it back... And if they were going along with these lies about her rescue, surely they wouldn't rouse Ceria's suspisions by hurting Fachon. Right?

Well, I could write the note and argue with myself over whether or not I was actually going to send it or not afterwards. I sat down at my desk and grabbed for the pen and a piece of paper.

Dearest Ceria,
I fear they are lieing to you. Your father is frantic and I'm sending this against his better judgement. I pray that nothing bad will become of my descision, but I had to warn you.
If you still have doubts about their lies, test them. Tell them that you would like to see me and if they refuse, their lies are obvious.
Please be careful.
Love Tathiel.

I exhaled through my teeth and set the pen down, allowing time for the ink to dry. Now, to send or not to send... Perhaps being disobedient would get me somewhere this time. If they were indeed lieing, Ceria could be in mortal danger. I had to send it... but if anything happened to Fachon I'd feel horrible. The king and Ceria both loved that bird dearly.

I shook my head and rolled the paper up, grabbing a small bit of string and striding over to the window sill. I tied it to the birds leg carefully. "Be careful little bird. Don't let them find you, alright?"

CERIA

I was terribly Bored. I knew I should wait to go home... but I wanted to see my love so badly. I walked over to the window, hoping fach would come. With or without a note, I just wanted to see someone I knew. I leaned against the window sill, resting my elbows on it, and my head in my hands. Acoteg was a very pretty country. Maybe this kind act will be the first steps in repairing the Neseradain/Acoteg relationship. My mind lingered back to the question, when am I going home? I wondered what my people would think if they saw their future queen with a large bruise on her face... it couldn't be that bad could it? I didn't want to know.

Just then fach flew through the window, making a graceful landing on one of the bed posts. I giggles and ran over to him.
"There you are! I was worried about you!" I said stroking his feathers. That's when I noticed the note strapped to his ankle. I unrolled the note and read it carefully. Lying? How could I not see that? He had said it so fluidly though... like it was the truth. Why would mercenaries from Gor Nathel want with me anyway? We had no issues with them! I turned to the closest servant.
"Please, tell your king I wish to see Tathiel." She hesitated. "Please?" I urged, she nodded and ran off. I grabbed the nearest writing materials and wrote back...

Dear Tathiel,
I now worry the same. I have sent the request. Please send fach back soon and I will tell you more. I miss you dearly, and hope to be with you soon. With love.
~Ceria~

I strapped it to fach's ankle and lifted him to the window. He jumped onto the sill.
"Fach, I know you don't want to leave. But this note MUST get to my beloved." He turned and flapped off. I smiled and sat on the sofa. Begging our worries wouldn't be confirmed.

Lyss

One of the worst things about her family, Lyss had decided, was her aunt.

It wasn't that her aunt herself was a horrible person, or particularly troublesome, and she was an excellent cook, hence why she worked at the palace. It was the fact that she had decided it was time for a baby, gotten herself pregnant and now required Lyss' mother to give her poultices and soothers. Only Lyss' mother herself moaned that with her bad hip and knee she couldn't make it up all the hill to the palace.

So that was how Lyss found herself trekking up to the palace kitchens every morning and listening to her aunt complain of aches and pains when she could have been doing something more useful. Still, it wasn't that bad. She managed to wrangle a few morsels of the kitchen staff and the food was wonderfully rich, even a few small bites, and she got to marvel at the palace which, even growing up beside it, she had never grown quite accustomed to the size of.

Today she was feeling particularly reckless, and decided to explore the corridors above stairs. Most everybody recognised her anyway- that's the warrior girl, they'd mumble, sometimes staring at her, sometimes averting their gaze. She smiled at them all anyway.

She stopped to look at a portrait of King Tigad, an interesting figure if there ever was one. There were rumours now of strange things happening with the Neseredan princess, but Lyss ignored them. They probably weren't true in any case.

"... are they coming along?”

Lyss moved a little further round the corner, thinking she recognised the voice, even as it was lowered slightly.

“We just might need them soon.”

Generals Joram and Emilian were walking down the corridor, apparently with their arms round each other. Lyss raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. She was used to Joram's little oddities by now.

"Lyss," he said with a frown. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know. Pregnant women. I could ask the same of you, General."