Treason

The Prologue.

“Much as I enjoy the work we do in large cities, I would rather clean the stables for a month than return to Eelo. The stench of that place is utterly wretched. Their sewage system is worse than a joke. There is no humor to it at all,” grumbled the stern-faced knight to his companion. While she was a beautiful young woman, he was a gruff man only a year or two older than her but who appeared so stern that it seemed life had already rung all the joys of youth from him. He was a medium-dark featured man, his hair was black, his brows were likewise dark and heavy and his forehead seemed permanently furrowed with a concentrated frown. His eyes were brown, dark at the edges and swirling towards a lighter shade the closer the color came to his pupil.

Outside of his intimidating visage, the knight, who was situated firmly in the prime of his life, cut an imposing figure. Godric Edwy Cadman was a little over six feet tall which made him an exception of a man but an average soldier and knight. His body was broad and had a general sense of stoutness that may have originated in his stubborn attitude but represented itself in his posture and the fullness of his musculature. He was carved from wood and born to fight, skilled enough as a fighter to have lived through enough to bear many badges across his hide.

“Speak for yourself,” the woman at his side said at once. He had drawn a small laugh out of her for the comparison between cleaning stables and their recent work in Eelo, but when it came to the job she would rather do something messy, dirty, even horrifying, than cleaning out the stables. She was a soldier through and through and her place in the world was behind a sword. “After spending three months of our lives doing every dirty job our commanders could think of in base training, there isn’t a one that I want to perform again.” Strikingly different were their accents. The woman sounded like most from central Etherial, soft, rounded, delicate in the way she spoke her words. Godric’s accent was clearly foreign, as was the shade of his skin, darker than most citizens, but he certainly stood apart as one who had gained his status, not been born into it.

“I was speaking for myself,” he said, as even-toned as ever but if there was any person in this world who knew when he was attempting humor, it was she. He was teasing her and reached over, rather freely, to poke her in the cheek to accentuate this point. As he drew his hand away from her, he looked up and towards the entrance of the pub diagonal from where they had chosen to sit. A tall man was entering the tavern, taller even than himself and certainly on the side of ‘excessively tall’ even for a soldier. Godric estimated that he was six and a half feet. The man was brighter of features which somehow made him seem even taller and on top of that, he radiated personality in every direction. Ever did the man bear a grin and a joke, rarely taking life seriously enough to be taken seriously. As his eyes found his companions he smiled, lifted a hand in wave, and wove his way through the patrons to join them.

Both of the knights shifted their seats to make room for the new addition, the woman turning her’s to face the approaching knight more fully. She offered him a warm, friendly smile, lifted a hand to rest on his forearm, and greeted him by name.

“Hawk.”

“Milady Rhienhart,” he said in response, hiding his own native, low-land accent in favor of borrowing her's, one of the finest and most palatable accents by far and widely considered an indication of much greater worth than his own native dialect. Since he had begun his training with the Demarti, he had embraced all the exercises and activities with willingness and eagerness to excel but this in particular was a newfound skill he practiced on every occasion until he wore it naturally as his skin. In this instance the accent served a double purpose; to tease her for her semi-royal lineage as well as to make himself sound more acceptable in her company and as a knight himself.

“How many times have I asked you to call me Alia?” she asked, grinning even as she said the words. “Would you like to join us in a drink?”

“By now I’ve lost count and you should have as well,” he returned cheekily. “And I came here to join you. Would you deny me the pleasure of your company now?”

“I would never do something so tasteless. My brother, perhaps,” Alia said, meaning Godric. Not brother by birth, that much was obvious from the differences in their appearance alone, but brother by name. She glanced from the grumpy-looking man in question back up to Hawk, admiring his gold/green eyes.

“I would,” Godric agreed with a huff and a gesture to the bigger man as he settled into a seat at the table, “but you're already sitting so I suppose I'll let it pass. This time.”

“How charitable of you,” Hawk shot back as if he was not amused. “Did you not order me a bottle already?” Brow raised, Hawk looked at Alia, joking as he ever was. She was a cheeky little thing, of that there was no doubt. Though “little” wasn’t a perfect word for her. She wasn’t especially delicate or petite though there was no lack of femininity to her form when it was not cloaked or hidden under armor. She was a fair featured woman, light skin who had clearly earned the brown of the sun through riding about the country in her knightly duties. Her hair was an incredible, vibrant shade of red, fell down her back, wavy and accented by her fierce, focused green eyes.

“You played a big part in closing our mission in Eelo. If you hadn’t been there, we would have been stuck in that place at least another three days. I think that means you’re capable of ordering your own drinks,” Alia said.

“Such backhanded praise! I’ve seen it for myself, but it amazes me how well you can toy with a man’s heart,” Hawk said as if injured, though he could not hide his smile. He put a hand over his heart to comfort it but at the same time raised his other to summon service.

“Mayhap if your heart was less accessible it wouldn’t be so easy to play with,” Alia offered to which Hawk returned a hearty and playful laugh. With a deep, regrettable sigh, Alia glanced between her two companions.

“I should head home.” Godric frowned at her after a moment of consideration during which he determined that she was not telling another joke or making a play at humor.

“Why?”

“It’s a long story, brother, one I intend to share with you soon, but not until I get my facts straight.” She stood, leaned up and kissed Godric’s, cheek, then turned her gaze up to Hawk. There was affection there, small but growing. “Enjoy your celebration. You earned it. Every day you become more and more a part of the Demarti.”

“Alia,” Hawk said in a reasonable but disagreeing tone. “I only just got here! Can you not even stay for a drink with me? It’s hardly a celebration without you; Godric is far too serious.” Alia hummed her agreement; she really could not argue with that. She wanted to stay, wanted a lot of things tonight and the wine in her system was making more than a few of those desires more powerful, but she also had a case. When there was something sitting on her metaphorical desk, it was difficult for Alia to relax, to focus on anything else. Maybe this would be a good lesson for her in stepping away from the job. Hawk wasn’t the only person who was changing.

“One drink,” she agreed. “Then you can walk me out.”

“Yes!” he agreed. “One drink for each of us,” he clarified with both her and the approaching attendant behind her. He held up three fingers and gestured to the table, ordering three more of the wine that she and Godric had been enjoying without him. “You are of such good spirit, Lady knight,” he said and settled into his seat more comfortably.

The wine was gone a little sooner than he would have liked but he held fast to the invitation to walk Alia out of the tavern. Hawk was pleased to have a moment alone with her. It was the first time in a while, in what felt like a rather long while. He had tried to nurse his drink but only been somewhat successful. His next endeavor, as he walked her to the door, was to find himself walking her home but only if he could do so smoothly and in a way that pleased her rather than made her irritated with him.

“It’s good to see Godric laugh the way you’re able to make him,” Hawk said, still smiling from the humor they had shared in at the table. “Strange, a bit fearsome, but good.”

“Godric has a wonderful sense of humor, if you can get to it.” Her brother was like a rock, one you had to pound against the wall to break into pieces before you found the softer center, but it was there and she had always had a direct path. Alia closed her eyes for a moment outside of the tavern, drawing a deep breath of Etherial’s scent. It was sweet and spicy here, so close to where the market set up every morning, and the cool air helped make the warm feeling in her mind from the wine ebb a little. She turned on her heel, facing Hawk, and took a couple steps backwards and away from him.

“Don’t stay out too late celebrating. There’s always a new mission come morning.”

“I won’t,” he said, stepping after her with a little smile. “Though I will be tempted to. You should let me walk you home, to clear my head, so I act with a clear-thinking mind.”

“Somehow, I don’t think clearing your mind is the end result you’re hoping for, dear Hawk.”

“What end result do you think I’m hoping for?” he asked, moving after her more steadily. “Something sordid and un-gentlemanly, no doubt.”

“Such a thing does fit your reputation,” Alia said, but her attention was shifting to the left even as the words fell out of her mouth. A soldier, not a knight, was approaching her with very clear interest and that was not a situation she much liked. Her steps paused, but just as they did she felt someone else coming up from behind. Then three more, one pushing past Hawk like he was some hapless bystander on the street, all closing in on Alia. Hawk’s expression turned from one of playful enjoyment to confusion and growing focus and lastly to a frown, more angry than distressed as the first soldier drew his sword and pointed it at Alia. The others began to follow suit.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Hawk demanded, gripping the nearest soldier by the shoulder, first lunging forward then lurching back with the guard in his grasp. “She’s a knight of the King!” He was unarmed against this sword-bearing guard but he would not be quick to back away in the face of such insult.

“Stand down!” an order from one of the soldiers nearest Hawk. Alia was not putting up a fight, already they had her on knees and were binding her hands behind her back. “The King himself ordered this arrest.”

“The King?” Hawk asked, jaw slackening while shocked confusion flooded his face. “Arrest?” The fool must have the wrong King or the wrong woman! Meanwhile, Godric was stepping to the door with his brow in a deeper-than-normal frown as he tried to sort out what the hubbub was only to see his sister on her knees in the street. He heard the last bit and processed more quickly than Hawk.

“On what charges?” he demanded, injecting himself into the action. “Lady Rheinhart is a loyal subject and knight, she has served King and country faithfully her life long!”

“Treason,” the guard explained, and if there was not pleasure in his voice then the night was not dark. Alia was pulled to her feet, looking unsurprised and frustrated, and she moved willingly with the guards taking her towards a carriage, but as she did she spoke.

“My father, Godric.” A hint, a subtle enough one for anyone who did not know her well. Her father was long dead, but she lived in his house still and if there was cause for this arrest, something that Godric needed to see, that was where she would keep it. What secrets had Alia been keeping from him? What secrets must she have stumbled upon for these charges to be laid against her?

“This is madness!” Hawk protested, loudly, moving to intervene again, his better judgment diminished. “Have you lost your wits, all of you?!” he demanded of the guards. Godric moved to intercept him, his mind much less clouded and seeing a distinct lack of surprise on his sister’s face, understood that there were components to what was going on that she could not explain to him now but which could be and must be found. He pushed his weight into Hawk’s chest, forcing the man back several steps with one firm move.

“Calm yourself,” he growled. “Are you not a knight? Do you not have a dignity to maintain? Do not un-become yourself and make a spectacle. You’ll do her no honor.”

“This is completely mad,” Hawk returned, frowning down at Godric for only a second and leaning into him a moment later when Godric closed the distance and placed a hand on his chest. Hawk’s eyes were above and beyond him, desperate to keep Alia in the scope of his gaze, like the guards would come to their senses at any moment and release her. The b******s. The least he could do was memorize their faces to report them when the time came to straighten out this business.

“We must get moving,” Godric insisted quietly, speaking now for Hawk’s ears only. “We must get to Alia’s home and see what she left for us there.”  

Author's Note

Any thoughts you have would be more than welcome.