Young Writers Society

A/N: Last chapter, Golzar was meeting the Queen, who offered a strange proposition, while Bryn and Gerhard waited outside. Here we get a peek at the waiting room, where an odd character is encountered.

It was dead silent in the waiting room. Honestly, Gerhard had found it remarkably strange that the Queen had a designated waiting room outside of her private chambers, especially one that looked like this. The chairs were packed close, as if to hold as many people as possible, while only one or two a time would head behind the intricately-carved mahogany door, where their reigning monarch awaited.

There hadn’t been anyone going in for at least an hour.

Gerhard bit the inside of his cheek, tapping his foot on the ground. He wondered: what was taking Golzar so long? Bryn’s seat beside him was empty – but he’d put his walking stick there, just to make sure Bryn would have a place to sit when they came back from their walk. The three of them would be here for a long while yet, it seemed.

He thought back to the events earlier that day. He’d woken them all up. Golzar and Bryn weren’t usually heavy sleepers, but he supposed the late-night planning and fussing over what Golzar would say if the Queen attempted so-and-so maneuver had taken a lot out of them. So Gerhard had pulled the furs off of them so the cold of morning would rouse them from slumber, and then went about making some tea so they could at least have something to drink before leaving on the long uphill ride to the palace.

The night before, he had laid out clothes for them that would be appropriate for such a meeting. Gerhard sighed. It had been a mistake for him to handle all of their diplomatic and strategic meetings during the war. Bryn had never wanted to come along, even as second-in-command, and Gerhard had let them skip out on it. Golzar often wanted to attend, but Gerhard had stopped her out of fear for her safety among the hostile nobility.

Gerhard knew how important dress and sensibility was to the noble class, especially when they dealt with those lower than them in rank.

He shuddered, remembering the time one of the Skyroot lords had threatened to cut off his arms after touching him without gloves on.

The bottom line was, though, that maybe they would have been more prepared for something like this if he had let them come along back then.

Slowly, the sound of rain pattering outside began to creep in. Gerhard turned around to look at the open window on the other side of the room. It was getting dark.

Gerhard heard footsteps from the corridor, and whipped back around to see Bryn walking back in with their cloak held over their head. “Hey, Old Shrew.”

“You good?”

“Yeah.” Bryn nodded. “Enough fresh air for me. Least before the shower started.”

Gerhard took his walking stick back, letting Bryn sit. He planted the stick between his feet, folding his hands on the handle. With a wary gaze, he looked around at the others waiting in the room.

A row or two behind them, a couple of nobles were waiting still. Gerhard knew most of the nobles had left by now, having done their business with the Queen in the afternoon. The two that were left were a pair of older men, who shifted uncomfortably in their blue coats. Though the clothes were no doubt thick, it was definitely a garment meant to be worn in the morning, with the sun still out and warming the palace grounds.

If these had been freepersons, or another serf, maybe Gerhard would have offered them his cloak. As it was, Gerhard thought as he turned around again, they would probably have the palace guards throw him out the window if he did something like that. Nobles always had something against touching things owned by serfs. Gerhard pressed his lips together. And what did he care, if a couple of rich old men were cold at night?

Gerhard looked up to find Bryn staring back at him. Their hazel eyes looked more greenish than brown in cold light of late evening. “Think Golz’ will be okay?” they asked.

“She will be,” Gerhard said. He knew he needed to convince himself of it, too. He had to. After all, Golzar had trusted him during the war. Golzar and Bryn and the rest of the Miscreants.

Before Gerhard could ask Bryn how their walk went, there was a noise at the corridor. Bryn’s head whipped around; their eyes narrowed. From the opening emerged a tall young lady, with brunette hair, who immediately marched over to Gerhard. The cold hand descended on his shoulders and Gerhard jolted, nearly wrenching himself away from her. “Advisor Gerhard!” the lady exclaimed, eyes shining. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you in person!”

Who was she? Gerhard wondered. He was still in shock, frozen, unable to respond. With pleading eyes he looked to Bryn, but Bryn looked quite ready to punch the woman, which wasn’t the kind of help Gerhard was looking for.

Gerhard frantically looked for insignia – something – that could tell him which noble house she was from, because she definitely had to be from a noble house, with this attitude and the fact that Gerhard knew of no one from the Guild who looked remotely like her. Her hands were smooth, with only the bare minimum of a callus from holding training swords, probably, and the tunic she wore was fashioned from silk, though it as in imitation of the plain unpatterned tunics that the chevaliers in general, but especially the heroes, wore.

Finally, he caught sight of a brooch she kept pinned close to her collar, and he blanched. It was the silver oak tree of the Skyroot family, one of the most important noble families in the kingdom. He remembered who she was.

“Lady Dene Skyroot,” he muttered. “Yes, it’s – “ he swallowed nervously, even though his mouth was dry “a pleasure to . . . see you here.”

The young woman grinned brightly. Gerhard wasn’t sure if he should stand, or if he should just lay there and let her continue holding on to his shoulders. It was a very precarious situation, he thought with a wince.

Bryn’s gaze sought his, questioningly, but Gerhard could only offer a quick smile that looked more like a grimace. If the lady had sought to grab him first, it was probably fine. But the close contact still made Gerhard shudder.

He had heard of Dene Skyroot’s eccentricities before, but this was the first time she had approached him without the large company of all the heroes.

He heard the two nobles in the back whispering to one another. This was bad. With painful slowness, he brought himself back to a sitting posture. Thankfully, Dene took this as her cue to let go of him, but she also took it as a cue to sit down right next to him, with an expectant gaze, as if she thought he would continue this conversation. All in all, Gerhard thought, clenching his jaw, it balanced itself out.

“M-m’lady,” he forced out, giving her a quick bow while seated. “How . . . has training been?”

~

Bryn had no clue who the strange noblewoman was, though that was probably chalked up to them missing many large gatherings with said nobility during the war. They could recognise the Skyroot insignia. They knew that the Skyroots collected taxes around Witchfield during the war, and that they had a large manor between the town and countryside regions of Witchfield. This woman must be important, Bryn figured. And so they couldn’t fathom why she was wearing an imitation of the heroes’ regular sparring outfits.

“It’s been splendid,” the woman continued. “William says I might make it into the Guild after all.”

Bryn espied the brief flash of incredulity in Gerhard’s eyes.

Before Gerhard could say anything else, the woman’s attention was turned to Bryn. She leaned forward so closely, Bryn could see the small mole on her pale neck.

“And you must be Bryn the Outlaw,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Bryn only dipped their head slightly in response. Their tongue felt stuck to the roof of their mouth. It disturbed them, how she was speaking to them and Gerhard like they were old friends. With the two wealthy eavesdroppers in the background, Bryn knew rumours would start to circulate about a Miscreant being this callous with a noblewoman, but it was too late to turn back now.

Quickly, Gerhard interjected to save the situation. “My lady, you mentioned the Guild. Might I ask when exactly you and William made this arrangement? It’s just that the intakes of recruits have been a little different since the war ended and . . .”

“Oh, it was just last week,” Dene said lightly, as if commenting on a walk to the marketplace.

Bryn could not fathom how exactly a noble could join the Heroes Guild. They knew a lot of the inner workings of the Guild recruitment system, although the other aspects of administration like Council meetings were a lot less familiar to them. The heroes were considered chevaliers, honorary but lower class nobility. All of their recruits were either of the serfdom or the freepersons. The highest ranking, wealthiest recruits were children of lumber merchants and other tradespeople. Where would a noble lady fit there?

It would be like marrying down, Bryn thought. If someone of the noble class married a freeperson, for example, it was like giving up their social status unofficially and becoming a freeperson themselves. Except, hopefully, there would be no marriage in whatever Dene was planning.

“He said he could place me with one of the companies, if I completed a quest on my own beforehand.”

Bryn saw Gerhard’s eyes widen in surprise. He was just as lost as they were.