#echenmarch

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The news didn't take long to reach Lisette, but even though she'd ridden as fast as she could to the area of conflict, by the time she arrived at the small village it was already burning. For a second, Lisette paused, afraid that she'd arrived too late, but then she was springing into action, grabbing a bucket and heading to the small stream nearby. From the smell alone, she figured that this bucket was usually used as a chamber pot, but there was no time to clean it out or find a new one.

"Fetch some water! Help me put this out!" She snapped at her escort, which had just caught up. She handed the bucket off to one of the knights and ran into the village instead, a sleeve over her nose.

"Hello?" She called out, voice rising as she reached the village square. "Is there anybody here?"

A red raven cloaked in fire flew through a broken wall, cackling as he held in his talons a particularly expensive-looking ring.

"You'll find no one here, Queen of Echen," The raven said, admiring the ring. It seemed that even ravens of the fae could hardly resist the allure of something shiny.

"So the villagers have evacuated? Are any of them wounded?"

The raven cackled. "I claimed nothing of that sort. You are late, Lady Ruler, but you were late by the time you heard the news. At this point, the centaurs are simply cleaning up." He flew to a large building, perching on the edge of its burning roof. "If you wish to collect what remains of your people, you'll want to put this one out quick."

Again, the split-second of hesitation. But Lisette had little reason to distrust the raven; they had always been a very neutral species. Lisette couldn't remember ever having to settle a quarrel with the ravens, and this one in particular seemed little threatened by her presence. It had, after all, already gotten what it wanted.

"Over here!" Lisette called to her knights. "Focus on this building; there may still be people trapped inside!"

When she looked back to the raven, it had already flown off. One of the knights appeared beside her, a bucket of water in his hands. The same one that she'd handed off, actually.

"Sir Maelic," Lisette greeted him, as he threw the water into the blaze. It didn't seem to make much of a difference.

Maelic looked at the bucket, then back to the stream. A few more knights were straggling to the square with their own buckets, and the building creaked and crackled. 

"There's no time," Maelic said, setting the bucket down. He grabbed a full one from a fellow knight and charged at the door with his shoulder.

The door crumbled away easily, probably far more easily than Maelic had been expecting. He stumbled through the doorway, throwing the water in an arc in front of him as fire surged through the opening. Lisette passed his empty bucket to another knight, watching the door with vigilance. If he didn't appear soon, she was probably going to go in after him.

Which, it seemed like she was going to have to. She frowned and marched towards the door, ignoring the protests of her escort. Like Maelic, she grabbed a bucket of water to clear an entryway for herself.

Before she could walk into the building, but after having thrown the water, an armored figure stepped outside. Maelic had a grimace on his face as he carried with him a young child, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old, and Lisette dropped the bucket at her feet as images of her younger brother flashed through her head.

"Ameil?" She whispered, even though she knew that at this point, he'd have to be older. Maybe only a little bit younger than Sir Maelic, himself. She would've stayed frozen there, but Maelic grabbed her around the shoulders as he passed by, pushing her to safety. Lisette's feet didn't want to work as she looked at the blonde child in Sir Maelic's grip. Somehow, she made it back outside.

Seconds later, the roof crumpled under its own weight, the supports eaten away by the flame. Lisette was hopeful, but practical: if there HAD been anyone alive that Sir Maelic left behind, there probably wasn't now.

"I'm sorry, your Grace," Maelic said, setting the boy's body down near her. Behind them, the fires still crackled and the knights were yelling to one another, and water splashed and sizzled. But to Lisette the world was a vacuum; she could barely even hear Sir Maelic. "I could only recover one body, the others were already half-burnt. They were all like this, though."

He moved the boy's arms away from his face and torso, and again Lisette saw a flash of her brother's face, petulant and angry. And then it was gone, and she was looking at the glassy stare of a village peasant. His stomach had been torn out. Almost certainly the centaurs' doing.

"Shall I seek reparations from the centaur tribe, your Grace?" Sir Maelic was asking her. Lisette shook her head. This was the third village destroyed in as many months, and it would likely not be the last. She was tired of waiting and reacting. She was tired of being late.

"We need to stop this at its source. Somebody is instigating these attacks, despite our efforts to mediate."

"Shall I send a team to investigate?"

"That won't be necessary, Sir Maelic."

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Angry hooves crashed against the stone road, setting small sparks underneath the centaur leader's feet. The village elder grimaced, but did not tremble. This was not her first dealing with this clan; Sebold had been angrier before, his people more indignant. With some careful deliberation, particularly with the help of the young, frail man who had appeared in the midst of their conflict like smoke, this could be resolved peacefully.

"Did you call me out here just to justify your desecration of our sacred grounds, Lynessi?" Sebold snapped, irritable. One of his hooves scraped against the road in disdain.

"I decided the meeting place," The young man finally spoke, walking in a small circle on the road. "This is a neutral ground to settle the conflict." His voice was firm, though toneless. He reminded Lynessi of an aristocrat, maybe even of royal blood. Not the Sylveri line, though - that family was known for their silver tongues and inspiring charisma. This young man may have been commanding, but his tongue was blood-red and his words carried the weight of finality, not compromise. 

"Why are you mediating OUR dispute, anyway?" Sebold asked. "Who are you?"

"I was told that an impartial third-party was desired in order to pass the fairest judgement. I was also told that anything suggested by this village had little weight with your clan." 

Sebold let out a harrumph and an impatient trot in place. "So pass judgement, blood-mouthed human. You've heard the testimony."

Lynessi looked at the young man and wondered why she'd thought this was a good idea. This interloper had never lived in the village, and surely wouldn't understand the struggles and starvation leading to hunting in the centaur's lands. But he was still human, and surely he would have sympathy for a small village that had a rough harvest. After all, he'd managed to convince her to let him intercede in the first place.

At last, just as Sebold was about to set sparks again, the young man spoke. "The boundary lines of the holy grounds have been in place for centuries. Everyone in the village knew about this, and the trespass violated several previously-established agreements between the village and the clan."

Lynessi nodded. "Of course, we would be willing to pay reparations for the damage done. We have little livestock now, but come Spring there will be a new batch of young foals and cattle. Sebold, if you prefer crops - "

"The animals you are offering are hardly compensation for desecration, especially of a spiritual and culturally significant site." The young man interrupted. "What is the centaur punishment for killing the creatures in the holy grounds?"

Sebold gripped the spear in his hands, hooves flat against the road. "Anyone who partakes in consuming a sacred beast has their stomach removed and placed back into the earth."

Lynessi turned white, remembering how Sebold's clan, crying for blood, had barged in on the village's feast. In a community as small as theirs, nobody was denied the spoils of the hunt. The children ate first.

"You can't let them do that," she said to the young man. He looked back at her with even eyes. "You'll doom the entire village."

"That's hardly my decision," he said, in response. Behind him, Sebold was already sending a messenger back to their clan grounds. By sunset, they'd have razed the famine-weakened village.

"Please," Lynessi begged, fingers gripping the young man's cloak.

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Most of the other knights regarded him with a distant respect, and Ameil honestly preferred this. But there was one young knight who would snap to attention the second Ameil walked into the grounds, and that was cute. He also always had his friend near, which was even better.

The young knight's name was Brinnly; his friend, Levine. Ameil only knew this because Maelic knew this, and even though Maelic also knew exactly what Ameil had in mind he wouldn't withheld information like that. Ameil's title might have been Royal Ambassador, but he was still the prince, and Maelic was still obedient. 

"Good day, Sir Brinnly and Sir Levine," Ameil said, a smile on his face.

"Good day, Ambassador," Levine responded. He gave a small bow. Distant respect, just as it was supposed to be. Just as Ameil liked it, usually.

"Good - Good day sir!" Brinnly eventually said, straightening his back even more and staring at some point off to Ameil's left. His ears turned bright red as his face flushed. Now that, that was cute, and that was why Ameil was here.

"Sir Brinnly, are you well?" Ameil asked, a concerned look on his face. He reached up and gently placed the back of his hand on the flustered knight's cheek. "You are very flushed. Are you sick?"

Off to the side, Levine smiled as his friend's coloration turned deeper. He must have heard about this from the older knights, or perhaps one of Ameil's previous victims. No matter, the prince was having enough fun with the youth before him.

"I'm f-fine, Ambassador! Really! You don't need to - to worry about me, I'm fit as a sunny summer's day!"

Ameil arched an eyebrow, moving the back of his hand to Brinnly's forehead. "You're burning up with fever. I wouldn't want such a fine, young knight to fall ill."

"It's just, um, the temperature, Ambassador." Brinnly stammered as a bead of sweat dripped down his face. It had been a beautifully temperate day, and it was almost sundown. Even just standing out here, Ameil could feel the temperature slowly dropping.

"Hm, if you're overheating like this from mild temperatures, perhaps it is a magical effect." Ameil wiped up the sweat bead, rubbing it between his middle finger and his thumb. He squinted at it and sniffed it and made small humming sounds to himself. "Perhaps you've offended a fey of fire, and this is her revenge. Or perhaps you've accidentally eaten the petals of a Sun Lily, and you're having a bad reaction to it. Regardless, neither are good things, and you should come with me so I may diagnose and treat your ailment."

"Ambassador," Levine said, sweet concern coating his words. "if you will entertain my question, where will you be taking him? I can help him to the medbay, if his condition is severe enough."

This young knight was good, Ameil decided. And definitely in on the secret, but his friend was still baffled. Brinnly looked almost relieved at the suggestion, but no, Ameil couldn't have that.

"The medbay does not have the sufficient tools I require," Ameil said. "You would have to help him to my personal quarters. He'll have to stay the night while I find something to help him," at this point, Ameil put an arm around Levine's shoulder, drawing their faces close. "and of course, you're welcome to stay, as well."

Brinnly's face had gone from relieved to baffled to shocked by the time Ameil had finished saying "personal quarters." By the end of the sentence, he was probably about to pass out. Left to his own devices, Ameil probably would have pushed him past that point, and what was the fun in that?

It was probably a good thing that Maelic decided to walk briskly from around a corner just then. He saw the scene before him and set a frown on his face, marching to the young knights.

"Brinnly and Levine, what mischief are you two up to now?" He scolded, arms crossed.

Levine quickly extracted himself from under Ameil's hold, standing a bit straighter for the Captain of the Guard. He knew that Maelic was going to show up at some point, but regardless he still perked up and smiled brightly.

"We're up to no mischief at all, Sir Maelic!" He said, hooking an arm around Brinnly's. Brinnly, who had just gone quiet and stared at the ground, slightly ashamed.

"What have you to say for yourself, Brinnly? That expression tells me plenty."

"No, Captain!" Brinnly protested. "I, uh, I was simply, uh,"

"Remember your honor as a knight, Brinnly! This is my husband you were carrying on with!" His mouth might've been set in a frown, but Maelic's expression wasn't particularly harsh. It was hard, when he was so close to laughing.

"No! I didn't - He - "

"Sir Brinnly," Ameil said with hurt in his voice. "You wouldn't be accusing me of infidelity or seduction, would you?"

Brinnly sputtered and gave up, staring back at the ground. "I'm truly sorry, Captain, it won't happen again."

"No," Maelic responded, the smile finally breaking through. He was getting better at this; last time he barely made it to the end of his scolding. He picked Ameil up. "And I'll make sure that this little wildcat will no longer even entertain the idea of straying, if that was truly what happened."

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Nearly an hour ago Ameil might have shared some of Maelic's enthusiasm for the upcoming jousting tournament, but now as he stepped back to look over the armor one last time, his shoulders were tense. Ameil wasn't as experienced helping put on armor as the older squires, but he had a general gist of the idea; it might have taken him a bit longer, and the process was likely less comfortable, but Maelic looked pleased enough with the help and that's what mattered in the end.

"Thank you for the help, Ame," Maelic said. He flipped up the faceplate so he could smile down at his prince.

"Stop that," Ameil commanded, reaching up and sliding the faceplate back into place. He might've had to stand on his tiptoes, but Maelic had bent down a little when he noticed the hand reaching up. "You're going to lose an eye."

"I can't see anything with this in the way, anyhow." Maelic tapped the grate in front of his eyes, but he didn't remove it.

"You'll thank me later when a lance breaks on your shield and about a hundred shards of wood fly at your face," Ameil said. His words were staccato, and he jabbed his finger against Maelic's chest. "What a shame it would be if your first jousting tournament left you blind." 

Maelic was silent behind the faceplate. He might've been raising an eyebrow, but when he talked Ameil could hear the smile in his voice. "What's the matter, Ame? Are you nervous?"

"Aren't you?" Ameil shot back.

Maelic shrugged, and the sound of the armor sliding against itself echoed in the preparation room. It made Ameil's shoulders tense more. "A little, I guess. But I'm mostly excited."

Frowning, but ultimately deciding not to dampen his knight's enthusiasm, Ameil instead brought over Maelic's horse. He checked the saddle's straps twice more than was necessary before allowing Maelic to climb onto its back, and would've kept fidgeting if the horn calling for the jousting participants hadn't sounded right then.

"You should go find your sister and father," Maelic said, heading for the door. "Wish me luck!"

"Don't lose an eye," Ameil called to him. Maelic turned and lifted up the visor, gave Ameil a teasing smile and a wink, and flipped it down to ride to the arena.

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Nearly an hour ago Maelic was silent and sullen, but now that Ameil had finally managed to help him out of the armor and he was free to move around again he was stretching and smiling.

"Third place is pretty impressive for a first-time particpant," Ameil said.

Maelic nodded, lifting up his right arm to crack his shoulder. He'd been training with the lance for a while now, but this was the first time he'd wielded it for so long. Tomorrow was going to be a sore day, but there wasn't anything too strenuous planned. Everyone would be exhausted from hosting the tournament, so it'd be a good day to just rest. Maybe they'd go down to the shore; summer wouldn't be lasting for too much longer, and Maelic wanted to take advantage of the warm weather while he could.

"Next time, I'll win the tournament for you." Maelic said. He smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow, glad to be free from the armor. He liked the weight of his chain shirt, but full armor was stuffy and heavy and just all-around uncomfortable. The other knights might have been used to it, but he grew up around thick cloth and heavy linen and being completely encased in the metal he was brought up to mold was still foreign to him.

"Grandiose claims," Ameil teased. "It was just your first time; some of those knights have been jousting for as many years as you've been alive."

"I don't think so," Maelic said. "None of them were that old. Maybe for as long as YOU'VE been alive, though."

Ameil pushed him, and against Maelic's back it was just a playful, nudging pressure.

"A joke, Ame. But I'll win a tournament for you one day, just you wait."

"I'm sure you will; you're an excellent jouster." Ameil paused, then smiled as he considered his next words. "But how long am I going to have to wait? Will you have to be jousting for as long as I've been alive?"

Maelic laughed. "Then that won't be very long at all, will it?"

Scowling, Ameil pushed him again, this time with slightly more force. Maelic didn't budge from where he'd been standing, and that only made the knight laugh harder.