Unknown Person

Three brisk knocks sounded on the door, jostling him out of his deep thoughts.

"Who is it?"

"Friedrich."

His ears perked up on hearing the name. Friedrich was Master's personal messenger. Mayhap he had a letter for him from Master!

His insides squirmed with excitement, but he was careful to keep calm and composed. "Come in, then."

There was a brief moment, as the double doors were flung open, and hurried footsteps approached his rocking chair.

"Do you have a letter for me?" he asked neutrally.

The footsteps instantly halted. "Aye."

"Place it on the table and leave," he commanded distantly, as he removed his cigar from his mouth and blew a single ring of smoke into the chilled air.

He watched the ring slowly fade in the air, his mind elsewhere, as he heard Friedrich toss a light object on the tea table next to him and slam the door shut behind him.

It was only then that he sat up straight in his rocking chair and tossed his cigar aside. With feverish fervour, he tore open the seal on the scroll and read its contents, written in a special code.

A letter written in code that he and he alone, apart from his Master, was able to interpret, as follows:

8 October, Year 30 of King Frederick V of Monrique's reign

To Green Serpent,

King Ferdinand of Vantauge is dead. I am sure you have already heard.

That cumbersome boy whom Warwick is hiding must cease to live as soon as possible, and Warwick himself must die with the boy. Take the next few days to plan well, and I want the job done by the end of next week.

Ensure that no one, especially the Lady Knight, suspects and knows anything about this. Beware, Warwick's son is a close friend of hers and the Prince Nicholas'. If you succeed, you will be well rewarded. Fail to do so, and you shall suffer my wrath. I will not be so forgiving this time.

Good luck.

Your Master,

Black Sheep

He crushed the letter in his hand, as his mind raced on. It did not require a genius to infer why Master had written to him with such haste.

Everything had gone wrong, out of their original grand plan.

King Ferdinand of Vantauge was not supposed to die so soon. He had so much more to accomplish, and finish. All had been left incomplete.

In his frustration, he threw the glass of whiskey beside him across the room, and felt immense satisfaction in hearing it shatter into pieces against the wall.

He had already heard the news of Ferdinand's untimely death even before he had read the letter. It was a huge blow to him, his Master, as well as to the rest of the Order.

King Ferdinand had been the founder of this Order, in addition to being its sponsor, its weapon supplier, and the main reason for its existence. Now that he was no more, the Order was lacking funds to continue its operations.

Moreover, his successor, Infante Alfonso, was no friend of their Order. He, unlike Ferdinand, desired peace between Monrique and Vantauge, and would no doubt have the whole Order arrested if he found out about it.

There was a high chance that he might discover their Order once he ascended the throne, and peeked at Ferdinand's past expenditure and records. If that were to happen, God forbid, then the whole Order would meet the executioner's axe, one by one, on King Frederick V's orders, like pigs to be slaughtered.

An image of the executioner's huge, sharp, shiny axe came unbidden into his mind just then, and imprinted itself permanently there. He began to perspire visibly as he imagined it coming down hard on his neck, and turn crimson with his blood -

He shook his head vehemently, as he ran a hand through his thinning hair, trying to rid himself of the image. Master would never let that happen, he told himself, never.

It was better to start erasing all the evidence of their past activities, and continue pretending that they had committed none of the crimes they had in the last ten years.

At the present, living proof was more dangerous than the non-living.

He inhaled deeply, deciding. He had to start work at once, as Master had ordered, if he wanted to escape the axe - starting with that certain someone that old Warwick was hiding in his Manor.

A slow, vicious smile spread across his face. What made the job even more attractive was the fact that the Lady Knight would have no idea about these next murders he was about to commit.

When she did eventually come to know of it, she would go through excruciating emotional pain. He knew she would. This time, the victims were very close indeed to her heart, as well as that of Crown Prince Nicholas.

He rubbed his hands together. Oh, how he wanted to see them both suffer.

***

The Lady Knight

I stared at the raging fire before me in the fireplace, hugging my knees.

Truth be told, there was something strangely intriguing the way that the flames danced to their own rhythm in front of me, and I was completely mesmerised by them.

"What are you thinking of, Julie?" a voice broke into my reverie.

I did not look up to see who it was. "The flames," I murmured, wrapping my cloak tightly around myself, "they are so beautiful, almost as if they have a life of their own. They save lives by keeping us warm in the winter, and yet, when they are incited, they become lethal enough to take lives into their fiery depths."

There was silence for a moment, as my words sunk in. "That is true. They can be lovely, but also deadly when their rage becomes all too great to behold. At times, however, their rage is not entirely justified," came the bitter, moody answer, as I sensed the speaker sit down next to me.

I glanced to find the Prince beside me, my forehead creasing in worry as I took in his depressed expression. "Is there a reason why you think so?"

He did not reply right away, but when he did, his voice was heavy and quiet.

"Today is 8 October," he mumbled, his expression carefully masked as he sipped his steaming mug of milk, "the same day these very flames took Jamie away from my family ten years ago."

I nodded solemnly, remembering. The former Crown Prince James would be forever known as the most tragic heir presumptive to the throne of Monrique.

At the tender age of seventeen, he had swallowed a heavy dosage of poison to end his life. By all reports, he had dined with his family normally the night before, but yet, he was dead by dawn.

It had been the Prince, Richard, Evoric, Ned and Lucien who had found him dead, with his fists full of the black powdered poison, in his chambers the following morning.

They had made haste at once to get help, but by the time they had returned with the adults to James' chambers, the whole room had been consumed by flames.

A fallen candle may have ignited the curtains and set fire to the room. However, regardless of the theories behind it, it had been too late. The damage had been done.

As a result, the late Crown Prince James' corpse was never found. The fire had most likely burnt him to ashes. The guards who had been guarding his chambers were never found either.

I was aware that it would not do me any good to remind the Prince at the moment that it was James' own hand, and not the flames, which had taken him away from his family ten years ago.

"I am truly sorry for it," I spoke up quietly, "you must miss him a great deal today."

He nodded, his eyes unfocused. "I do," he muttered bleakly, "I always miss him. But these few days leading to today - " He stopped, looking uncomfortable.

"Yes?" I prompted.

"I am accustomed to having recurring nightmares of the day we discovered Jamie dead in his chambers," he confided, disturbed, "but these days, all I seem to dream about is Richard. I dream that he is alive, and that he is still very much part of my family. And then I wake up and realise...that he is not." His voice broke in the end.

The Prince's twin brother, Prince Richard, had mysteriously disappeared on the day of James' funeral. Till today, despite the many attempts by royal spies and army officers alike, he was never found. Almost everyone believed him to be dead, the royal family included.

A strange chill seeped into my bones. "Nay."

"I beg your pardon?" he blinked, startled.

When I spoke next, my voice was high, almost foreign, even to me. "Richard is not dead," I emphasized each word, "I know that as well as I know my own name. Somewhere, in this world, he is alive."

My grip on my coat tightened to the point that my knuckles turned deathly white, as the image of a solemn twelve-year old identical to the man before me when he had been young came to my mind.

As I should have known earlier, they won the tug-of-war and wrenched the basket from my hands. I lost my balance and fell forward due to the inertia, straight at their feet.

"Next time, do as I tell you," Nick's eyes twinkled with spite, "you will save yourself a lot of trouble."

He smiled triumphantly at me, bursting into laughter, as he led his friends away from where I lay sprawled on the ground.

Why did this always happen to me?

I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest, as tears pricked my eyes despite my will.

I swiftly brushed them away. Had I not been bullied by them countless times before this? Why should I feel upset over something that occurred so often that it resembled a tedious routine at the moment?

This time, however, I had truly believed that I could win them. That I could hurt Nick on this special day of his, his birthday, and make him feel horrible for all the other times he had done the same to me.

Instead, he had run away with the Marzipan that had rendered me that confidence in the first place.

It hurt so much. The tears kept falling, and I could not stop their flow, try as hard as I might. The Castle staff were now throwing me sympathetic glances and tender looks as they passed my way. Needless to say, I was now very much embarrassed in addition to being miserable.

I buried my head between my knees, wrapping my arms tightly around myself.

"Jules?" a hesitant voice called out, as a warm hand touched my shoulder.

It sounded so much like Nick, that I looked up sharply and raised my hand at the same time to slap him hard with all the rage, frustration and energy I had in me.

Only when I noticed his hair did I realise that it was not Nick that I had struck, but poor Richard.

I froze, horrified, as he held a hand to his cheek, wincing in pain.

Why had I not noticed earlier? Nick preferred to leave his hair dishevelled, while Richard meticulously combed his hair to one side with a little clear, lemon salve to keep it neat.

It was not the only way to tell them apart, but it was the easiest. There was also a difference in the way they held themselves. Nick was more boisterous, more self-assured, and thought of himself as God's gift to Earth.

Richard, on the other hand, was quiet, and seemed to hunch into himself most of the time with a self-esteem even lower than mine.

At this moment, though, I felt horrible. Which rational girl slapped one of her dearest friends on his birthday?

"I am so sorry, Richard!" I jumped up, "does it hurt? I am terribly sorry, old chap, I thought you were Nick -" Alarmed, I tugged away the hand that he held to his cheek and inspected it.

To my absolute horror, it was as red as a tomato.

He shrugged, attempting not to wince. "It happens all the time, although I am accustomed to praise instead of slaps when it does," he remarked, chuckling good-naturedly, "in any case, it was a remarkable blow. Good and strong. Great job, Jules." He smiled again ruefully.

I let out a watery chuckle, shaking my head. "I have spent too much time fantasising about beating up your brother to deliver a weak blow in reality," I jested, "but thank you."

He noticed my face, and the dried tear tracks for the first time. "What is the matter, Jules? Why have you been crying?" He tugged at my hand to sit me down beside him against the wall.

That was invitation enough for me. I indignantly poured out the whole story about how Nick and Ned had stolen the birthday Marzipan from me by force, and injected every bit of my fury and misery into the recount.

He listened to me throughout sympathetically, nodding at all the correct places to express that he understood. When I finished, he fully took my side.

"They should not have done that!" he cried out indignantly, "Mama has many more blocks of Marzipan left. If Nick had merely asked her, she would have given them to him without a question. There was no need for him to take yours for himself. If you wish, I will go and get them back for you from him."

I was surprised. Richard rarely became angry. Before he could charge after his twin, I pulled at his arm to make him sit down once more.

"Do not bother," I answered, dejected, "he would have finished eating them by now."

I was glad that Richard was supporting me like the good friend he always had been, but even he cannot do anything this time.

I had lost. End of story.

His expression softened. Putting an arm around my shoulder, he held up a basket that he had been holding with his other hand.

"Do not be so sad, Jules," he remarked softly, "here, you can have my Marzipan instead. They are sword-shaped, as well."

I glanced at the basket longingly, but shook my head. "It is your birthday," I blurted, "I cannot take them. If you do not have Marzipan, then you will be unhappy. And I do not want you to be unhappy."

He smiled in amusement. "You would make me happy if you ate them," he shrugged, "besides, I prefer sweetmeats to Marzipan. You know that. Here, take them," He pushed the basket into my hands.

I beamed, all misery forgotten. "Thank you so much, Richard. Happy birthday."

He laughed loudly. "Now you tell me, Jules."

Memories of the shy, kind, generous twin of the man before me were still so fresh in my mind. Despite his gentle nature, he always stood up for his friends, and stood up for what was right in his own quiet way. He had so much strength within, that I believed a kidnapping could never kill him.

Richard was not dead. Richard was not dead. Richard was not dead.

The Prince's face crumpled. "Julie, it has been ten years," he whispered, sounding choked, "do you think he could have survived all this time in this big world, all alone, with no one to care for him? By the Lord, he was only twelve when vanished."

I stared harder at the flames. "Richard is not dead," I repeated quietly, "he is still alive. I know it well."

His eyes were ablaze with grief as he grabbed me by the shoulders. "He is gone!" he yelled, trembling violently, "he will never return. Cease hoping and hoping - it will get you nowhere! Do you hear me?" His nails were digging into my shoulders with force, and they were starting to hurt.

"I am not hoping. Hope is for fools," I hissed, my voice dripping with frosty determination, "I know that he lives. Believe what you will, but I have not given up yet. I will find him one day."

We continued to glare at each other for a long time in silence, refusing to back down on our stand.

His expression eventually crumpled. "I do not know what to think anymore, Julie," he whispered, his grip on my shoulders loosening, "I do not want to hope. It always leaves me disappointed in the end." His grey eyes searched mine desperately, lost on what to do.

I knew exactly what he meant. I, too, had foolishly hoped to receive my father's forgiveness and love for so many years. However, it had only left me a disappointed, bitter adolescent, with a lesson learnt never to put much store in hoping.

Hope was an illusion, a ray of light that only led to more darkness.

"I am not asking you to hope, but to have faith in your brother. He is a lot stronger than you give him credit for," I looked away, feeling my eyes burn, "We will find him one day. I miss him as much as you do." I admitted quietly.

He nodded, trembling. In a simple gesture, he took my freezing cold hands into both of his huge, callused ones and squeezed them, silently rendering me his support.

I glanced up at him, startled for a moment at the sudden warmth. I had yet to become accustomed to the truce, to his good will towards me. It was a refreshing change, but a welcome one all the same.

I ventured to grasp his hands just as tightly, strangely finding great solace. Together, we stared into the flames once more, lost in our own, heavy thoughts alongside each other.

I needed a change in topic. This instant.

"So what are you still doing here inside? Are you not joining the Captains in their hunt for mountain lions about the woods?" I asked the Prince, clearing my throat as I pushed Richard out of my mind.

He understood at once. "They will not be able to find any. The relief here is too gentle to support their population. If mountain lions were truly present in the woods yonder, then we should have run into some of their prey when we walked through the woods to this inn earlier. Elks, deer, and so on," he seemed weakly amused, "this hunt was doomed from the start. I am merely waiting for them to realise the same. In any case, at least they get some exercise this way."

I chuckled wryly, feeding some more wood into the fire. "That is very thoughtful of you."

"Thank you. I thought so too."

We sat for a while in companionable silence, as the fire crackled loudly. This time, I had brought the Prince and the Captains to an inn for the evening, instead of camping outside in this blizzard.

"By the Lord, I am so glad that we left Tessensohn Manor at long last," the Prince sighed quietly, "I had thought the week would never end."

I smiled a little. "So had I."

He turned to me just then, uncertain. "Are the Ladies of Cavarriere like Lady Olivia?" he asked me, looking slightly alarmed by the prospect, "tell me the truth, and do not bother sugar-coating the severity of the situation."

Cavarriere was the next duchy we were travelling to. But truly, he had no need to be worried about the Ladies of Cavarriere. They were good friends of mine, and were very famous in the Castle, especially among the kitchen staff.

However, I doubted that he would remember these Ladies from his childhood, if he was unable to even remember Tess.

It seemed like I had to trigger his memory, and this might take a long while.

With that thought, I reached for my sack, where I had kept the boxes of Marzipan blocks I had brought from Tessensohn.

When the Duchess of Tessensohn had remembered how much the Prince loved Marzipan, she had sent three boxes full of them along with me without hesitation. However, I had eaten most of them to satisfy my hunger on the journey through the forest. They simply melted in my tongue the moment I bit into their soft, sweet depths.

It was a good thing the Prince was unaware that she had sent three boxes of Marzipan for him, or else they all would be in his stomach, instead of mine at the moment.

However, now that I had eaten enough, I was willing to share. "Would you like one, Your Royal Highness?" I offered, holding out the box.

"I am going to fall ill soon if I eat so much of these," he grinned, accepting one, as he sat down beside me, "but it is an obsession I cannot seem to let go."

An obsession over Marzipan had to be the only thing the Prince and I ever had, or will ever have, in common.

"It is an undying obsession for me, as well," I agreed wholeheartedly, "so, about the Ladies of Cavarriere. You should first know that Cavarriere is made up of four earldoms - Rortaine, Frontier, Genetaire, and Dover."

"Yes," he mumbled, gorging on his Marzipan.

"There are six Ladies you will be meeting, and they are very dramatic, very outspoken, very frank and very mischievous. Whenever they visited Bordeux, they turned the Castle upside down with all the pranks and tricks they played on everyone. Everything about them spells trouble."

"Surely you are exaggerating?" his eyes were wide with wonder and disbelief.

I wanted to roll my eyes at him. I supposed he had not heard of Ladies who were not always graceful and gentle. I could not fault him. The dainty, etiquette-abiding Ladies of the Society had surrounded him ever since he was born.

He was most definitely going to be shocked at Cavarriere, then.

"Of course not," I scoffed, "all of them are troublemakers, except for Lady Camille. She is slightly reserved, and is the sole bookworm of the bunch. However, she is the life of any gathering whenever she chooses to be."

I smiled at a memory of Camille's smiles, chatter and high-pitched laughter echoing throughout the walls of Bordeux Castle.

"Truly?" he mused, smiling at my excitement, "what are their names?"

"Well, there are the twins, Lady Annabelle and Lady Sophie of Rortaine. And then we have the Lady Diana of Dover, Lady Frances of Frontier, Lady Marguerite of Genetaire, and lastly, the Lady Camille of Cavarriere, the Duke of Cavarriere's only daughter." I recited.

Fear entered his eyes once more. "How am I to remember all of them? There are so many!"

"Worry not, Your Royal Highness," I chuckled, "once you meet them, it will be very difficult for you to forget them."

***

"Jules!"

High-pitched, deafening squeals pierced through the silence of dawn, as I was swiftly pulled into a tight, group hug.

I coughed, almost suffocated by their hold on me, and by their strong, cloying perfumes that were fast choking my airways.

"Cannot...breathe..." I gasped, squirming insistently, "by God, you are squashing me! Release me at once!"

My commands went unheeded. Squeals and screams continued to bombard my ears, and not one of them was my own.

"Greetings, Jules! Oh, it has been too long!"

"Ow, Frances, you should be hugging Jules! Not poking a hand into my - "

"Cease your yapping, Anna, and say hello to Jules!"

"I am Sophie! Why can you not tell us apart even after so many years - "

"Do not be upset, Sophie, you know she has not come over to Rortaine in years - "

"Right you are, Anna. Sorry, Sophie! My goodness, Jules! Welcome to Cavarriere!"

I had no more breath left to answer them, and my ears could no longer discern their voices and bickering. They did release me eventually, but not before taking their own sweet time to strangle the living daylights out of me.

They had not changed one bit.

I slouched slightly and placed a hand over my heart, feeling circulation return to my body. Camille, who was the only one who had not joined her friends in squashing my body, was leaning against the door with her arms crossed, shooting me an amused, sympathetic look when I caught her eye.

"Pleasure to meet you again, too," I panted, "thank you so much for the warm welcome."

"You are most welcome, Jules," Anna winked.

"Marvellous to see you again, old girl - " Diana clapped my shoulder with such force I almost fell over.

Marguerite eyed me critically. "Have you been taking care of yourself, Jules? You look like you just got out of - "

"You have not grown any taller since we left you Bordeux. Have you not been hanging regularly on the ballroom banister like we told you to?" Sophie teased, reaching out to ruffle my hair.

I arched back away from her arm on reflex and stuck out my tongue at her.

"Aye, I did hang on the banister every morning, afternoon and evening, Sophie," I muttered dryly, "and I have seen such remarkable improvements in my height."

"It is lovely to find you well and so full of sarcasm, Jules," Frances chuckled mischievously, before her eyes fell on the Prince beside me and -

"Your Royal Highness!"

The rest of the Ladies faced the Prince at Frances's outburst and -

"Prince Nicholas! I am Anna! Welcome to Cavarriere!"

"I am Frances! Pleasure to meet you, Sire!"

"I am Sophie! Lovely to - "

"I am Marguerite! Did you have a good journey, Your Royal Highness?"

"I am Diana! Absolutely wonderful - "

"And my name is Camille," Camille rolled her eyes at her overly excited friends, smiling as she curtsied to the Prince, "as you can tell, we are very pleased to make your acquaintance."

I stifled my laughter at the Prince's overwhelmed expression, as he looked at me in despair. The Captains sniggered silently at his plight, and I joined them.

"Girls, girls, do not pester the Crown Prince!" a voice laughed softly at that moment, "we do not want His Royal Highness running away on the first day itself, do we?"

Lady Marie, Duchess Consort of Cavarriere, a petite woman with a rotund figure, now glided down the staircase, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the Prince's expression.

I bowed to her deeply. "Your Grace."

"Oh, Jules, darling!" she noticed me, and broke into a huge beam, stepping forward at once to pinch my cheeks and envelope me in a big, motherly hug, "you stubborn child, how many times have I told you not to stand on ceremony with me?"

"My apologies, it has become a habit," I smiled ruefully.

"No matter, no matter," she brushed off the apology, before holding me out at an arm's length. "I am glad to see you around here again. Why, you have grown into a lovely young lady, darling." she beamed, looking me up and down in approval.

"Thank you, Your Grace," I rubbed the back of my neck, uncomfortable with the compliment, "you are looking very well, too. It is wonderful to see you all again." I looked around at the excited Ladies of Cavarriere around me, wryly amused.

They grinned back at me unashamedly.

Lady Marie burst out laughing. "If I am looking well, it is only because I have had a little too much of good food these last few years," she chuckled, before sinking into a curtsey in front of the Prince.

"Your Royal Highness, welcome to Cavarriere," she smiled widely, "my husband apologises for not being able to be here to welcome you. He is currently in Dover on business. He will return in time for the Ball this evening."

"That is quite all right, Lady Cavarriere, please rise," the Prince grinned, looking slightly more at ease than he did moments ago, "it is a pleasure meeting all of you."

She rose to her feet. "Please, come in," she requested, ushering us inside.

"Come, Jules, I shall take your things up to your chambers!" Diana all but snatched my sack away from my hands.

"And I shall take yours, Your Royal Highness, if you permit," Camille offered quietly, before any of the others could.

"Thank you," he swiftly handed her his trunk, intimidated by the way Diana had snatched mine.

"So, Jules, have you any exciting adventures to tell us about?" Anna tugged at my arm insistently, pulling me towards their group, and leaving Lady Marie to escort the Prince and my Captains inside the house.

"Being a Lady Knight must be better than being cooped up in the countryside for years," Marguerite wrinkled her nose.

"What have you been up to all these years? Come now, Jules, tell us!" Frances demanded, jumping up and down in excitement.

I laughed.

***