The Lady Knight

Nay, nay, nay. It could not be.

With my heart pounding in my mouth, I pushed violently through the crowd of army officers - from Cadets to Captains, who had all gathered within the Western Dungeons - heedless to whom I was brushing past, until I was inside Lord Lucien's dungeon.

My blood ran cold at the sight.

The usually pitch-dark chamber was currently lit by a single candle, with a barely flickering flame. The meagre amount of light from the flame, however, was enough to see the bloodied, mangled mess on the cold stone floor that had once been Lord Lucien.

I felt my face drain of all colour.

He was so brutally hacked at that one could not even tell it was him, if not for the wedding ring on his finger that bore the Derelia crest. He almost resembled butchered meat at that moment. Several bruises, old and new, stood out against his pale skin in ugly, diffuse splotches. His face was marred beyond recognition by the slashes of blades, the blood dripping from them still fresh.

I closed my eyes in dread. How cruelly had he been tortured before he had been murdered? He might have been a murderer waiting to be tried, but no one, not even the worst of criminals, deserved such a brutal death.

My eyes roamed to the walls, where a message was painted in red - clearly in Lord Lucien's blood.

Cease meddling.

Cease meddling in what? Did they mean the investigations of the recent string of murders? Or something else?

I needed to be alone. Now.

"Everyone, leave this instant," I commanded quietly.

No one seemed to have heard, as they were too absorbed within their own discussions and speculations.

"I said, leave!" I burst out forcefully, my voice bouncing off the walls that surrounded me, "Lieutenant Raleigh, you are to make sure no one enters the dungeons until I give them leave to. Am I understood?"

Lieutenant Raleigh nodded, as he began to shepherd the men out of the dungeons.

Silence reigned for a long while, as they all shuffled off, still muttering among themselves. Soon enough, I was alone as I had desired.

Grabbing a few more candles from the hallway, I stepped inside the cell and shut the door behind me. I stood still, surveying my surroundings with better ease now that it was brighter.

How in the world had the murderer entered this dungeon?

There were no windows, no openings for him to slip through. The dungeon was built in such a way that its prisoner would not be able to break out by any means. The only way the murderer could have entered was through the front door - which was guarded by two, well-trained guards.

How had he managed this?

The Captains and I had painstakingly designed the security of the Dungeons over the course of many months. It had been critiqued and perfected by royal experts sworn to secrecy. Indeed, the King had declared that it was an impregnable fortress.

How?

Whoever the murderer was, he had been well prepared. He had been too skilled, and his timing had been too perfect. Truth be told, it seemed almost as if he was well versed in the security outline of the Bordeux Dungeons.

Impossible.

However, no other solution within my sight seemed to be within reason. No one, with the exception of myself, the Captains, royal experts and the King knew of the security plans.

Had we been betrayed?

To contemplate such an option was truly awful of me, but I had to. I needed an explanation, very desperately, for this bloodied, mangled corpse on the floor before me, who had once been my childhood friend.

But before that, one last matter of confusion still needed to be cleared.

Biting down on my lower lip hard, I crouched down on the ground, and with trembling hands, pushed aside the fabric of Lord Lucien's tunic, such that the pale white skin of his right shoulder blade was exposed.

My heart almost stopped beating. There was no serpent symbol on it, unlike the last four murders.

An insistent chant began pounding my mind with increasing ferocity.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. You were wrong, Jules!

He should not have died. We had kept him here unnecessarily. I had arrested him unnecessarily.

A costly error.

The urge to scream and vent out my pain and frustration rose within me like an over powerful tidal wave of grief, one that I suppressed with great difficulty. I knew well that it would be of no use. No one would be able to hear me, or help me out of a mess that I had created on my own.

I had committed a folly that can never be fixed. I could never bring Lord Lucien back to life.

I turned away, removing my beret to run a hand through my hair, when my eyes fell on his countenance once more. His dead gaze was focused on the wall, and for the first time, I noticed a small object in his right hand pointing in the direction of his gaze.

An iron nail. Strange.

All weapons, big or small, should have been confiscated before he entered the Dungeons. My eyes followed the path to the wall, and that was when I found another passage carved on the wall, apart from the murderer's message in blood.

I scooted over to the wall, curious, bringing a candle. On it were scribbled these numbers:

512301404725 911614709307108520

320508605725 701318805 203015613109314507 606315818 113505. 209 104815 214515720 608901522405 513721803208 320509713305 712805306120. 419115713305915614805 509819 720818325709314107 520615 211509312912 315506206 520608305 918615825101312 706401913409612225. 820308505 203918315623714 216718509714203405 709819 909214 607818505301920 704801514707605918. 316718815120305503220 708309013. 708409819 620723609314, 116318209614203905 418609303708801918104, 319720809312512 112809422305419. 723101618423809303811 708315112604319 908509813 303601716820109422805 109614 708309819 208415621119505. 806209914104 808409713.

Whoa. Was it a secret message of sorts? A subtle threat or warning?

There were too many numbers for me to make sense of at the moment, but nevertheless, I noted it all down on a piece of parchment and tucked it in my pocket to mull over after training one of these days. It might aid me during the investigations of his murder in the future.

When I was finished, I stood up, staring long and hard at Lord Lucien, a lump forming in my throat.

I know my apologies and regret will do nothing to help you now, Lucien. The least I can do for you is to find out who did this to you, I vowed silently, and when I do, they will pay, make no mistake.

***

12 September, Year 30 of King Frederick V of Monrique's reign

Derelia, Anchorvale

Monrique

Dearest Jules,

I do not know how to answer you. Are we all right? Nay, I am afraid not. Could you help us in any way in Derelia? I should think not. I do not want you to neglect your duties for us. Now that the Crown Prince has returned to Monrique, I am sure that your workload must have increased.

There is not much to do here, in any case. You will be more productive in Bordeux.

Please do not blame yourself for his murder, Jules. He has suffered his punishment for murdering Lucas. Yet, even after everything that has happened, my heart insists on believing Lucien was merely caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was much too innocent for all of this - but then again, mayhap I never knew him as well as I thought I did.

In any case, please do keep me updated. If there is any chance, any chance at all, that I might not have to raise my baby with the knowledge that his or her father was a cold-blooded murderer, then I want to know. Although Francesca is fragile, I am not. I am well able to handle any news that you have for me, regardless of its nature.

Please find out who killed him. The murderer has to answer to me and my family, and I want to make sure he pays for tearing my family apart. Please cease feeling guilty. He is gone. There is nothing else left to do except to grieve.

Yours sincerely,

Victoria Havelock

This letter had arrived a week ago. Truth be told, the tone of her words haunted me. Had Max not stopped me, I would have sped to Derelia right after I had read it. He felt that it was more important than ever now, after Lord Lucien's murder, that I stayed and ensured the Castle's safety - and he was right. I knew that he was.

However, my own conscience had been troubling me to no end -

"Jules, dear?" I felt someone shake me gently at that moment.

I blinked, startled, returning to reality. I was in the King's study once more. The King was seated in front of me, with a concerned expression on his face, while the Prince stood next to me, sulking.

I shook my head, clearing my mind.

Nothing had gone well since the day I had found Lord Lucien dead.

"My sincere apologies, Sire," I sighed tiredly, "please do continue with what you were saying."

The King's frown deepened. "Are you all right, Jules? I have noticed that you have been rather distracted lately," his voice was gentle, "do you still hold yourself responsible for Lord Lucien's murder?"

I grimaced. The Queen must have spoken to him.

Upon his father's words, the Prince's expression morphed from one of boredom to that of fury in a matter of moments. The tension in the room grew so thick, all of a sudden, that it was stifling.

His grey eyes were stormy. "She should."

I froze at the amount of venom in his voice.

"Lucien would never murder anyone, least of all his own blood brother," he hissed, "but she, she had him imprisoned and kept him in the Western Dungeons as she would a murderer!"

He towered over me like the Lord of Death himself, as he continued.

"Did you collect all evidence that supposedly condemned him before arresting him in the first place?" he raged at me, "his murder, his broken family, the grief of all those who loved him - you are solely responsible for all of it!"

The King looked on in bewilderment, as I raised my head up towards him, startled at his accusation.

Of course I had collected all evidence before I had arrested Lord Lucien! I was a Knight, and Lucien had been my friend. I did not arrest anyone merely for the sake of it, and in Lucien's case, I had considered and reconsidered my decision a thousand times before the King himself had commanded me to apprehend him.

So whoever had told the Prince such lies about my conduct?

"Your Royal Highness - "

"Silence!" he cut me off, "Your father the Lord President has explained it all to me."

My eyes narrowed at that. Well, that explained quite a lot to me too.

"Nick..." the King trailed off in warning, glancing at my stricken face.

The Prince turned to him next. "Papa, I wish you would cease favouring her merely because of the fact that she is Lord Henri's daughter," he shook violently, "my best friend has been murdered scarcely a week ago - only because of her irresponsible conduct and her shoddy security plans."

"Nick - "

"Despite being well aware of this, you have done nothing to rectify the situation, and justly punish she who is at fault," he snarled, "what is her punishment to be? Only guilt? Why have you not taken any action against her, Papa? How is it - "

"Silence, Nicholas!" the King raised his voice, his usually calm grey eyes flashing.

The Prince fell silent at once, still mutinous.

Lord Lucien and the Prince, together with Lord Raymond of Testalt and Lord Evoric of Warwick, had been the best of friends for almost all of their lives. They were inseparable, and they had all travelled to Osterlund together to study a decade ago. However, Lord Lucien had returned to Monrique earlier than the rest of them, so that he could marry Lady Victoria.

I had heard that the Prince had been inconsolable with grief when he had first heard of Lord Lucien's brutal murder, but he had not sought me out to vent his anger that day.

However, I knew that he held me fully responsible for it, and if I were truly honest with myself, I did not hold it against him. Had I been in his place, and he in mine, I knew I would have felt and done the same to him.

"I am not as ignorant as you make me out to be, son," the King continued quietly in the meanwhile, "I do not know what the Lord President told you, or how you have come to misinterpret his words, but know this - Jules had submitted all security plans and measures to me for checking before they were allowed to pass. I myself went over every detail of it together with her."

"Dare not suggest that it was because of her security arrangement that Lucien Havelock was so cruelly murdered in a heavily protected dungeon. The plans were excellent, created by her and her team of Captains with no room for error. Royal experts have been consulted, and they are of the same opinion."

He paused for a moment, his piercing gaze trained on his son.

I looked on in astonishment. King Frederick was usually a calm and composed man, taking all that came his way with a smile. It was so rare of him to lose his temper thus.

"Moreover, it was on my orders that she had arrested him, and I decided on that course of action only after she had submitted all evidence condemning him to me. Would you punish me, then, for apprehending your friend for the safety of the nobles of this country?" He narrowed his eyes.

The Prince seemed at a loss of words.

The King's expression softened. "I understand your pain, Nick, but you will not achieve anything by blaming it on Jules," he sighed tiredly, "she and her team are already doing all they can to hunt down the murderer. Never again make any accusation without knowing the whole truth."

The whole truth? The Prince will never know the whole truth about anything, until my father ceases pouring lies into his ears.

"Aye, Papa," the Prince muttered, scowling at me again.

The King frowned. "Now, I do not understand your dislike for her, son, but it has to come to an end as soon as possible," he studied us, "the both of you are going to work together for the next few months, and I expect full success in the matter."

That captured my attention. "I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?"

"Papa?"

We burst out together, startled.

The King flexed his fingers and leaned back against his chair, satisfied, now that he had our undivided attention. "Recently, the Crown Council brought to my attention a matter of a most delicate nature." He treaded carefully.

The Prince and I waited for him to go on.

"As the both of you are already aware, this is the thirtieth year of my reign. As such, in the near future, I will be stepping down, and Nick will ascend the throne. With ten years' worth of training and education in Osterlund, I do believe he is more than ready to do so at the moment."

The Prince nodded subtly, tensed.

"However, the Crown Council is extremely concerned over the succession. Under usual circumstances, there is always an heir apparent - another royal family member second in line to the throne after the Crown Prince - to ensure the succession, should anything happen to the Crown Prince," the King sighed heavily, "but Charlotte cannot inherit by Salic Law, and no one knows whether Richard is alive." His eyes filled with tears.

My fists clenched. Richard.

He was the only one of the three Princes who had ever treated me as a person with emotions. To this day, I sorely missed him.

The Prince's shoulders stiffened now at the mention of his twin.

The King sat up, gazing intently at Nick. "Son, you are now in the position I myself was in thirty-two years ago. I, too, had no other sibling to stand as heir apparent, should I have ascended the throne," he explained in a solemn voice, "my father's Crown Council noticed this and spoke to him. It was then that suitable arrangements were made to rectify the situation, according to Monriquan traditions. And now, they are going to be made for you, too."

My forehead cleared, as I understood what the King was hinting at. I had heard this whispered about among the Crown Councillors, when I had passed them in the corridors these few days.

"What arrangements are going to be made?" the Prince held his breath.

For the first time, I felt an ounce of pity for him. Just a small ounce.

"The Potential Quest." The King announced dramatically, clearly expecting an outburst.

But none came his way. His son merely frowned at him.

"What in the world is that?"

It was now the King's turn to frown. "How can you not know of it, son? It was quite a famous event in the past. Even today, it is often spoken of with awe," he queried incredulously, as he turned to me, "have you heard of it, my dear?" He looked at me expectantly.

I nodded absent-mindedly, wondering with much bewilderment as to what my role was in all of this.

The Prince's forehead creased as he glanced at me. "Papa..."

"Please explain it to him, my dear," the King requested me tiredly, "in the meanwhile, I shall search for some of the reports I need to show you both regarding this." With that, he stood up and turned away towards the cabinets to begin his search.

The Prince faced me, crossing his arms, scowling. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

I shot him a scorching glare in return, taking a deep breath as I recalled all that I knew.

"The Potential Quest is a Monriquan royal tradition of the past, like the Socials. In those days, it was considered the most important event of a King's reign, and much time and effort were put into organising it. On the year that a Crown Prince was to ascend the throne, the Potential Quest was held throughout Monrique instead of the Socials."

"Over the course of the Winter season, the Crown Prince will travel from duchy to duchy, together with the Lord President of the Crown Council and a small entourage. They will be hosted by the Duke or Duchess of the duchy for one week, during which the Crown Prince would have to learn more about his country outside the Castle, and the way of life of his people. Am I clear, Your Royal Highness?"

The Prince blinked, taking all the information in. "Aye. Is that all?"

"Not quite," I confessed, "at the beginning of every week, each duchy will hold a Ball of much grandeur, exponentially grander than any Socials Ball, in honour of the arrival of the Crown Prince."

"During that Ball, he would meet all marriageable noble-born Ladies of that duchy formally for the first time. Throughout his stay in the duchy, he has to become better acquainted with these Ladies. And...ascertain whom he is most fond of." I phrased my words with care.

He listened, growing more and more horrified by the second. The only sound besides my voice in the room was the ruffling of parchment in the background, from where the King was squatted in front of the cabinets.

"At the end of the winter season, on New Year's Eve, Bordeux Castle will organise a Ball similar to the one usually organised during the Socials. The only difference is, during this Ball, the Crown Prince has to announce which noblewoman he has chosen, out of all those whom he has met, to be his bride." I paused, allowing all of this to sink into his mind.

His eyes widened in dawning horror, and he suddenly became still. "Do you mean that I have to..." he trailed off, unable to finish.

"Aye, Your Royal Highness," I confirmed, "all marriageable noble-born Ladies in Monrique are 'Potentials' - potential brides. Hence the name, Potential Quest. The main purpose of this custom is for you to beget an heir by your future wife before you ascend the throne. The Crown Council is of the opinion that it prevents the possibility of a civil war, should you perish before your coronation, Your Royal Highness."

He stared at me, open-mouthed. "You must be jesting."

"I am afraid not, Your Royal Highness. Worry not, however," I assured him, "my father the Lord President is required to accompany you on this journey to advise you on which of the Ladies are best suited to be your Queen consort in the future."

I suppressed a small chuckle. Indeed, the very thought of the Prince finding a bride was hilariously absurd. How I already pitied his bride-to-be!

He was quick to offer me one of his heaviest scowls. "This is not amusing, Julie!" he huffed, "Papa, how could you make such an arrangement regarding my future without asking me about it?"

The King stood up with a pile of dusty parchments in his hands. "I am afraid that the matter is no longer in my hands, son," he shrugged, "the Crown Council is quite insistent. They are very, very afraid at the possibility of another civil war."

He set them on the table with a thud, a cloud of dust enveloping his hands.

"But Papa, I do not want to - " the Prince began hotly, but he was interrupted once more.

"My sincere apologies, Nick," the King's tone was final, but sympathetic, "but you do not have a choice, I am afraid. You will have to choose a bride by this year end and get married soon after."

The Prince opened his mouth to argue again, but was silenced by the King's helpless expression.

"Besides, the Lord President will not be accompanying you. I need Henri here at Bordeux with regards to other pressing state issues."

The Prince frowned. "Then?"

The King turned to me with a radiant smile. "You, my dear, will be Nick's Potential Quest Advisor this winter season. You are to select six of your Captains to accompany you both. They will be Nick's entourage and protection," he informed me in excitement, "however, I suggest you do not choose Lieutenant Raleigh. The Castle also needs a capable military leader in your absence. You will leave for the first duchy, Louvre, in a week's time."

My eyes widened. I was a military officer. Not a meddling matchmaker!

"This is ridiculous!" the Prince burst out indignantly, "is it not unfortunate enough that I have to choose a bride by the end of this year, without the prospect of Julie choosing one for me? She would most definitely frighten all the Ladies away."

"Watch your tone, Your Royal Highness," I snapped at him, before turning to the King.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I am not well versed in helping another deal with the matters of the heart. My forte is the military, and it has always been ruled by order and reason - not passion," I explained with some desperation, "would you reconsider someone else for this position? Mayhap one of the Crown Councillors?"

"Please, Papa," the Prince supported me, which he rarely did.

Mayhap he hated the idea of spending three months with me, as much as I did.

"My decision is final. The Crown Council is going on recess for the Potential Quest, and they are already going to have their hands full in their own duchies," the King stated firmly, "I have complete faith in you, Jules."

He then picked up the pile of dusty parchments and pushed them into my hands, before I could open my mouth to argue further.

"Take a look at these reports. They were from the days of my Potential Quest, when the Lord President of my time accompanied me around Monrique," he informed me, "you have to send me such a report every week, evaluating the Potentials in the duchy you are in, and your progress. This will be the format. Study them."

I internally groaned. Evaluations of the Potentials? On how they fawn over the Prince? In addition to the next few months to be spent constantly in his suffocating, tormenting company?

By God.

However, did I have any choice in the matter in the first place? The frustrating man in front of me was His Majesty the King of Monrique, whom I had sworn fealty to on that memorable day that I had been Knighted before the whole royal Court.

I had to obey him at all costs. It was my duty.

"Aye, Your Majesty," I gave in, scowling, as I knew I eventually would, " I will."

****

A/N: Yup, I tweaked the code a little, but the same principles apply :) To my new readers, please don't scroll down the comments and look at the spoilers if you cannot crack it - the code will be cracked later in the book!

The picture above is of Nick and his twin Richard :) Henry Cavill is swoon-worthy at any age, don't you think?