TCOB: CHAPTER THREE( Arc 2)

The Young Lady

Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

The next day.

A light breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying the clarion call of a falcon on the hunt. Dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting a kaleidoscope of light and shadow on the path ahead. The air was fragrant with the scent of pine as birds flitted through the trees, silent in their quest to seek refuge amongst ripened leaves.

The tranquillity of this pastoral scene was punctuated only by the capricious clatter of hooves and the muted clinking of armour. Anastasia rode up front, ahead of her entourage. Behind her was a long procession of draft animals and porters, as well as a few extra knights to ensure she didn't try to shirk her duties and run off with some low-life rascal or some other nonsense like that.

The girl shifted on her mount, wincing as her backside protested. She didn't enjoy riding. Or even leaving her father's castle at all; for good reason. It's been just a few hours and her rear was already sore; her thighs and knees burning with each step her mount took upon the dirt path, leading her away from the only home she had ever known.

Anastasia wore her favourite sky-blue gown today; Molly, her lady-in-waiting, had insisted she wore it, citing how important it was to dress up for such a momentous event. The overly excitable woman had long forgotten Anastasia's induction into the Royal Academy would not begin until she arrived on campus. And with the closest portal being nearly a day away, by the time they got there, Anastasia would need a bath, meaning the dress would need to be replaced with a fresh one.

Out of petty spite, the young lady elected not to inform her friend about this.

And so, a pair of pearl earrings adorned her ears, and a thin gold necklace with a polished mana shard pendant hung from her neck. Her hair had been intricately tied into a bun and her fingers were wrapped in fine lace gloves, and her face was perfectly made up, the very image of a proper young lady.

Gods willing, Molly would have to redo everything to be just as impeccable the following morning.

Anastasia's thoughts returned to her home; oh, how she loathed to leave it behind.

Why couldn't she continue to learn her magic at home? She asked herself. The past years have been good, have they not? Lord Gaeb could easily afford to hire some of the best tutors in the realm should he have to. So why? Do not be mistaken, Anastasia loved magic. It fascinated her in a way very few people could understand. All she asked was why she could be allowed to continue her studies at home, away from all those snobbish fools that most undoubtedly populate the halls of the Academy. Literally, anyone with enough gold could gain admittance. And most that did, did so not out of a genuine interest in the arcane, but rather as a means to form connections with potential future archmages.

Politics. The whole thing disgusted her to no end.

"Stop looking so glum," Molly whispered, jolting Anastasia out of her thoughts. "This is a rare chance, my lady, to learn from the best. To grow beyond the confines of the castle walls... and maybe even,"—her voice dips into an even quieter whisper—"discover romance."

Anastasia shivered in disgust as she recoiled away from the attendant. "Is that all that is in your thick head?" she said. "You shame me, Molly."

The woman giggled in response as she nudged her steed closer to Anastasia's. "You must forgive me then, my lady."

"...I shall miss Father terribly," Anastasia said after a moment of silence.

"You fret too much, my lady," came Molly's response. "The lord is but a letter away. Besides, think of all the tales of your own you'll have to share upon your return!"

"...Tales, is it?"

Molly nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes! I heard so much about the academy. It must be a really exciting place."

Anastasia scoffed, turning to glance at the towering man riding protectively a few steps ahead of her. "Hear that, Ser Baldwin? Exciting, she says."

The grizzled man shot a sideways glance at Molly before looking back to the path ahead. "Naïve," he said, his voice a gruff rumble. "Keep an eye on her, Ana, lest they eat her alive."

Anastasia managed to suppress a giggle that threatened to bubble up her chest at Molly's expense. "It can't be that bad," Molly said, pouting.

"It is," Ser Baldwin replied without looking back. "I studied at the Academy for some time, many moons back. The place is crawling with snakes and backstabbing foxes. You would be wise to find trustworthy allies. Failing that, keep to yourself."

"...I have heard that some of the most powerful people in the realm studied at the Academy," Anastasia said, quickly changing the topic as she noticed Molly's diminishing enthusiasm.

Ser Baldwin nodded. "Indeed. Many a king, duke and archmage graduated from the institution. The Academy has been the cradle of greatness since the inception of the kingdom. There is little doubt that it will continue to do so. And Molly is right, this is a rare chance, my lady. Learn to be a bit more appreciative of his Lordship."

"Shall I also write him a letter the moment we arrive?" Anastasia grumbled, not at all happy to hear another voice of reason. She was fully content being annoyed about the whole matter, to be honest.

Molly's retort was thankfully interrupted as Ser Baldwin raised his right hand. "Halt!" he ordered as he reached for the pommel of his sword with his left.

At first, Anastasia noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but given she did not have a perception stat of over seventy, she wisely did not question the battle-hardened man's judgement. Moments later, a man riding a horse appeared from behind the curve at the end of the path. It was obvious the fellow was a noble. One that fell upon hard times, if what she saw was to be believed.

Although the garments he wore were of fine make, they were now dirty and ruined, perhaps as he fled whatever battle he was in. A crude, bloody bandage was wrapped around his right thigh. He looked haggard. Even the finely bred horse beneath him looked exhausted.

Anastasia leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. Who was this mysterious figure? She wondered. His presence here on the border of her father's fief, in such a state, was an enigma. Ser Baldwin dismounted his horse with a grace that belied his size and approached the young man cautiously.

"State your business," the knight shouted, his posture distrustful.

The haggard nobleman man looked up as if just noticing the rather large group ahead of him. He raised one hand, waving it weakly.

"Ah," the man slurred, his voice nearly inaudible even in the stark silence. "Finally. Civilized people."

Ser Baldwin, however, didn't seem to be in a bantering mood. "I said," he repeated as he drew his blade. "State. Your. Business."

The stranger's smile turned brittle. Both his hands slowly rose in a surrendering gesture. A hacking cough broke from his chest before he replied, his words still a slur.

"I... come in peace?"