#vincor

Vincor didn't fall asleep until the light of dawn touched the horizon, and even then it was an uneasy rest. He never had very coherent dreams; mostly they were only small scenes or images that drifted in and out of his mind's eye. They were always gone by the time he was awake and making breakfast, anyway. As always, when Vincor opened his tired eyes, the images from the night began to dissipate in front of him like ghosts. He tried to hold onto them, but like cupping water in his hands, they were leaking through his fingers. He fumbled around on the bedside table and came up with some paper and a pencil; quickly, before the images faded too far, he scrawled some illegible notes to ponder over later. The clock still read before noon; he'd only been asleep a couple of hours. The prospect of going back to sleep called to him, but instead he pulled himself out of bed and began to get ready for the day. As he brewed some hot water for tea, he glanced at his notes. They were hardly even in English, and already he couldn't quite make out what he had dreamed, not that it mattered. If he squinted, he might have been able to make out a word or two, but ultimately it wasn't worth his time; he had better things to do than sit here and try to analyze the figments of his tired mind. He walked over to the stove as the water began to boil, eyes catching the wilting bouquet along the way. He turned off the heat, recalling that the plan for today was to visit the florist's and see if he could track down the mysterious sender. It had been nearly a week since it was sent, but bouquets of white roses weren't common, especially not during the summer. Three florists in the city that he knew of, so hopefully at least one of them would know where they came from. Marie had planted roses once in their small backyard garden. Normal ones, not necessarily the white ones. Vincor never really had much of a green streak in him, but he'd tried his best to help her. He'd meticulously watched as she took care of the flowers, kept a schedule for when she watered them, measured out exact amounts of topsoil and plant food for the things. In his free time, he read as many books in the archive as he could on garden-keeping, determined to help acheive Marie's dream of having a mini Royal Garden right in their small home. She'd left for a month to act as translator for King Niall, when he was making trade negotiations with the city of Yathrib in the South. During that month, Vincor had grand dreams of flourishing the garden so that color overflowed their little plot of soil, and he could surprise his new wife with a fresh bouquet of hand-cultivated roses. Instead, he received the opportunity to watch, frustrated, as the flowers slowly, painfully, shriveled and wilted despite his care. Marie came home to what was probably the saddest bunch of flowers Vincor ever had the gall to call a bouquet. He would be at training when she returned, so he left it in bundled on the table with a card that just read "Welcome home. I'm really sorry." He dreaded going home that night, but when he peeked in the door he saw that sad bunch of flowers displayed in a vase, already perking up, and Marie napping in the next room holding the card to her chest. Despite her sleepy smile when she woke up, Vincor was nervous. Instead of admonishing him for his negligance, she instead reassured him that it was okay, they were just flowers after all, and she was sure he didn't do anything wrong, per se, he just hadn't done all the right things, either. Even though he'd followed her routine exactly. Even though he'd taken such detailed notes and done so much research. She wouldn't tell him what he was missing, though. Said that the art of nurturing was something that he could only learn through experience. "It's okay, Vincor," she'd said. "It's already getting colder outside. They were going to die soon anyway." He'd worried anyway. He worried because he probably wouldn't ever learn what this missing element was. He worried because it wasn't something he could research and understand. He worried because he couldn't even keep a damn garden alive, so how was he going to protect his troops or his Prince and Princess as Captain of the Guard? Most of all, he'd worried for his unborn child, and tried to make Marie promise not to leave him in charge of something so fragile and vulnerable again. She'd laughed at that, grabbing his gloved hands. She wouldn't promise, despite Vincor's insistances, and remarked that she would have more long trips in the future. She wouldn't make that promise because she believed in his ability to pick things up and learn, and she fully trusted him to keep safe anything she deemed precious enough to leave in his personal care.   Guilt began to toil at his insides again. It seemed like that, fear, and nausea were the only emotions he felt recently, but he couldn't help it. Marie had trusted him with their daughter and he'd messed up worse than with the garden. Those were just flowers, and there would always be next Summer to try again. Sheryl was irreplacable. The tea forgotten, Vincor had let the water simmer back down to room temperature,  It didn't matter; he didn't even bother pouring any of it. Instead, he raise his empty mug to his lips and attempted to take a gulp, only to spit out a mouthful of tea leaves a few seconds later. Frustrated, Vincor just placed the cup in the sink and grabbed the bouquet. Any normal day, this would be a late start, but Vincor had such trouble sleeping he was still exhausted. It wasn't like he would ever have a fitful sleep until he'd brought back Sheryl safe and sound, so tired or not, he might as well continue his investigation. The first florist in the marketplace hadn't had anyone buy a single bouquet of white roses for months; if he was selling white flowers, it was always a huge order for a wedding. Vincor tried to ask where he bought his stock, if he did, and the florist became irritated and pushed him away. He ran into Princess Erina on the way to the florist in charge of maintaining the Royal Garden, and this time he was prepared for her overenthusiastic greeting. She'd only gotten stronger in the years that he'd been out of training, though, and even though he was braced and ready for her, he still went sprawling. "Erina," Roderick said with a sigh, a few paces behind her. "You're going to kill him one day." "Vincor's tougher than that," Erina laughed, and helped her victim back on his feet. Vincor winced and tried to smile, a hand on his back where he'd slammed into the ground again. Erina had knocked some of the petals off the flowers in his hands. She frowned as she bent down to pick one up, rubbing her fingers across the browned edges. "Are these a present for someone?" she asked. "A bit, uh, wilted, aren't they?" "No, I received these just a little while before Sheryl's - " he paused and did his best not to make any undue assumptions. "-  before her disappearance." "Nazrun couldn't find her?" Roderick interrupted, as concern furrowed his eyebrows. Vincor shook his head. "Have you two heard anything from your scouting parties?" They both frowned. Erina looked down, while Roderick looked off to the side. "It's only been a day, Vincor, it doesn't mean anything." Erina said, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the sounds of the bustling crowd in the area. Vincor didn't have the time right now to despair, but his chest began to ache and it had nothing to do with Erina's greeting. He nodded and thanked them and asked them to please keep looking and if either of them found anything, good or bad, he'd be happy to hear it. "Of course, Vincor," Erina said. Roderick nodded reached out, his fingers hovering over one of the roses. "Someone in the castle might know more about these," he said. "Neither of us were much interested in it, but the language of the flowers is very popular in the Court. May I?" Vincor pulled the least wilted rose out of the dozen and handed it to the Prince. Not that he could refuse - after all, he may have known Roderick since they were children, but he was still the Prince, and for years Vincor had been a Knight, and following orders, whether or not he was given a choice to, was engrained in his mind. Roderick accepted the rose and picked at the browned petals. a contemplative look on his face. Vincor bowed and excused himself and went on his way. <> The Royal Garden didn't grow white roses, the groundskeeper told him. Not unless there was a royal wedding coming up, which there wouldn't be one for years, or in the event of the death of a young Prince or Princess. The current two were far past the age where white roses would be appropriate, and there wouldn't be a new royal child until the Princess wed, so there was no reason to try and keep white roses. Apparently they were nearly impossible to properly raise; they'd have to be isolated from the other flowers, so that they woud remain pure white. She began to explain how, after the events would be over and it wasn't imperative for the flowers to remain completely white, they would place them back among the other roses and have a generation of pastel-colored flowers. Vincor had stopped listening at this point, though. The bottom of his stomach had turned to ice, and he was doing his best to push the mental images out of his mind. Back when he was still a squire, the youngest royal child at the time, Princess Miari, who was only six or seven years old at the time, had disappeared, much like how Sheryl just had. Everyone in the kingdom from the farm workers to the Knights had searched and kept vigil for months and months - through the rest of the summer, and the autumn, and even in the winter, when the ground had frozen over and any possible trails would have long gone cold. After the snow had finally melted and the trees began to bloom again, the King finally, solemnly, declared Princess Miari lost for good. There was a public ceremony for her, but then there was a smaller, private funeral that only very specific people were allowed to attend. Vincor was only allowed because he was such good friends with Prince Roderick and Princess Erina, and he'd helped them babysit young Miari fairly often. The kingdom was cloaked in black for a week afterwards, but at the funeral Vincor mostly remembered a blanket of white. White veils, white clothing, the empty white coffin, white marble headstone, and most of all, white flowers. "Sir Vincor?" A voice said to him. Vincor blinked and remembered where he was. The groundskeeper had put a concerned hand on his shoulder, and he shook his head to clear the memory. "I haven't been a Knight for years," Vincor told her. "No need to use that title."  She nodded, but continued to use it anyway. Vincor couldn't even remember what they were talking about. Instead, he simply thanked her and gave her a small bow and hoped that the final florist he knew in town could give him some clues. <> The small flower shop was on the outskirts of town, just outside of the public graveyard. Vincor visited the shop often, but he never learned the shopkeeper's name. She knew him, though, and welcomed him as he walked up to the small, open booth. "Vincor," She said, placing a large bucket of water on the floor as she saw him. "What a pleasant surprise. The usual bundle?" "Yes, in a bit." Vincor said. He placed the white roses on an unoccupied table and picked up the water bucket. He began to water the stock that she pointed to, just a small splash for each patch of soil. "I had a question, first." "Hopefully, I have answers." "I received - " he motioned to the wilting bouquet, "- that, a little while ago. Do you know where it might've come from?" She walked over to inspect the flowers, frowning. "Have - have you been all right? Has something happened to little Sheryl recently?" Vincor nearly dropped the entire bucket onto a petunia patch. "Why would you ask that?" "It's just - well - this card, plus that it's white flowers, and little Sheryl's not with you today..." "Do the white flowers..." He turned away and couldn't remember if he'd already watered the chrysanthemums to his left. "Very often, white roses, well, they're a sign of condolence for a lost child, is all." Vincor focused on the way air flowed in and out of his lungs. If he didn't, he was afraid he would simply forget to breathe. "Sheryl's gone missing," he finally said, "I received these three days before that." "Oh Vincor, I'm so sorry. But to answer your previous question, no, nobody's bought white roses from me, recently." "I see." Vincor took the wilting bouquet back and clutched it so hard the thorns went through the paper and dug into his palms. "Thank you for your time; I'll be going now." "Wait," the shopkeeper said, and handed him a varied bouquet of lillies, carnations, daffodils, and a few other flowers he had never been able to memorize or identify. "On the house this time." "Thank you." He tried to think of something else to say, but couldn't. Instead, he just thanked her again and left the small booth. At the entrance of the graveyard, Vincor paused, the fresh flowers in his hand. He shouldn't have accepted these. There was no way he could possibly approach Marie's grave and tell her that she'd misplaced her trust in him. But it didn't seem right to keep it from her, either. After a few agonizing moments, Vincor finally walked the familiar path to Marie's grave. He slowed down as he approached it, shoulders slumped like a dog that's known it's done something wrong. He approached the headstone and brushed off some leaves that had fallen onto it, then placed the flowers before it. He kneeled and brushed his fingers over the engraved letters of her name. He didn't want to admit what he'd done, what had happened, but already he could see her concerned expression. "Marie, I've done a terrible thing," Vincor said, stroking the edges of the stone. "If you choose never to forgive me, I wouldn't blame you." He paused and wanted to leave and never let his late wife know exactly how and why he was the worst person in the world. The worst Knight in the world. He couldn't even protect his family, who were the two most important people to him. Instead of leaving, though, Vincor began to babble. He let her know what had happened, starting from the day he'd come home from the market and found a bouquet of white roses on his doorstep. He went through the investigation up until now, told her about the fairy ring in the forest, and begged her to tell him something about it. The grave remained still in silent judgment as he went on and told her about the scouting parties, his theories, how two florists had told him that white flowers were common condolences for the death of a child, how Sheryl was just at that age where a white funeral would have been appropriate. He even told her about showing a Courier the Archive, but Marie had known Nazrun even longer than Vincor, and she probably wouldn't have minded that small detail. Vincor finished his story and was exhausted. It wasn't even evening yet but he wanted to curl up where he was and sleep for a day. He held no grand illusions that maybe he would just wake up in his bed to his daughter's insistent shaking, letting him know that she was leaving for her training, and that maybe he should get a start on his day, too. His legs were sore from kneeling when he finally stood up. "I'm so sorry," he said. "Marie, I'm so sorry." As always, the grave was silent, so Vincor picked up the white bouquet and left for home. <>

<> Nazrun accompanied him back to his small house. He stood in the doorway and fidgeted, as if caught between following Vincor in and keeping him company or leaving the historian to his thoughts. "Do you want to come in for dinner?" Vincor asked, staring at the pantry. "Do you want me to?" Vincor looked back to the doorway, noting the emptiness in the house between the kitchen and the door. "Yes." Nazrun walked in and shut the door behind him. He watched Vincor staring, face blank, into the pantry for a few minutes before he walked up and plucked the knife from between the historian's fingers. "I think you should sit down, Vincor. It's been a long day." "Yes. Sure. That sounds like a good idea." Vincor said, and took a seat at the table. He held out his empty hand to Nazrun and looked surprised when the knife wasn't in it. "When did you... Damn Couriers." "Really, with how distracted you were, I'm surprised you even remembered you had it at all." Vincor was silent for a minute, listening to the sound of water boiling on the stove. "What do you know about Fairy Rings?" He said eventually. Nazrun paused from peeling potatoes and looked out the window. "People used to think they were magical. That they were places where Fae and elves and other tricky spirits led humans to entrap them within their confines forever. It's said that once you start dancing in a Fairy Ring, you can never stop." "I see," Vincor said. "I've never really heard of them." With a shrug, Nazrun dumped several vegetables into the broth. A warm, rich smell began to waft through the kitchen. "I've only read a few articles on them." Vincor crossed his arms and put his head on them and listened to the sound of a stew simmering. The archive downstairs almost certainly had several books on the topic, but they were strewn across a variety of langages. Translating them would take days, and that was the kind of time that Sheryl did not have. With her missing, fate unknown, every second was precious. If only there was a way to easily dig through the information, translating only what was important, so that he could understand fully the circumstances of his daughter's disappearance.  Suddenly, as a bowl of beef and vegetable stew was placed in front of him, Vincor sat up. "Nazrun, you're a Courier; what languages are you fluent in?" "A couple," Nazrun said, sitting across from him with his own bowl. "Why?" "Are they - I know that two hundred years can drastically change a language, but are they close enough that you could translate something from before Ragnarok?" Nazrun stared at him, wide-eyed. "You have physical copies of some of those books?" He looked shocked, the food before him forgotten. Vincor's mouth snapped shut and he grimaced at himself for forgetting to watch his tongue. Mentally, he chastised himself for his transparent expressions, as well. Then again, what was the point of trying to be subtle around a Courier anyway? They were just going to see right through you no matter what you did. "I..." he started, and it didn't feel right. "Marie found it. It had been sitting in the old archives for years, but she managed to move it out here when she became Chief Historian." " 'It'?" Vincor fell silent, unsure how to describe the object, the reason that the Royal archives were no longer attached to the main castle, the reason why he'd chosen to sell his family house and move out here when they wed. He took a sip of his stew, found it delicious, and realized that he was famished. "After dinner, I'll show you," He said, and took a bite out of his bread. "It's easier that way." <> The library lay underground, past a thick steel door that separated it from the living quarters above. Preventative measures, Vincor explained, as they descended the stone staircase. If anything happened above ground, the records down here would be shielded and safe. "That's clever," Nazrun said, looking around as they walked into the library. Vincor flipped a small switch on the side, and the lights came on with a quiet hum. "Electric lights too? That's rare; I've only ever seen them in palaces, and even then not very often." "Open fire in a library is a fairly stupid idea." "What next?" Despite himself, Vincor couldn't help but grin a little bit. He stood in the center of the wooden floor, where an old book was on display in a small glass case. He opened the case and removed the book to reveal a cache hidden under it; he reached into the hollow center of the podium, almost the entire length of his arm, and managed to extract a small silver cube. The center of the cube was transparent, and when Vincor held it up to the light he could see the blue magic swirling inside of it. It was thick, like liquid smoke, and he held it close to his chest. Nazrun looked at the artifact with wide, green eyes. Magical artifacts were rare as it was, and this one was in such good condition that even without any magical training, Vincor was still able to activate it. He turned it around in his hands, pressing against its sides with his fingers. A few experimental pokes and it stayed as was, but when Vincor tapped a specific place, the cube began to hum in his hands and the magic swirled more vigerously. He pressed against that place harder, positioned a thumb on the corner, and the magic turned a deeper blue before snaking its way out of the cube. It hovered in the air for a moment, a coil of dark blue, before all at once it compressed and morphed into the vague, ghostly shape of a young librarian. "Welcome back, Marie," the figure said, looking up at Vincor. "Me today," Vincor said. "Welcome back, Vincor," it corrected. "How may I help you today?" "Search for any files about Fairy Rings," Vincor said. The ghostly spirit bowed and disappeared and in their place was a small bundle of books and folded-up newspapers. Vincor reached into the image and selected one book out of the pile, a book of myths and stories written in Late Italian. The book opened up on its own and floated a little higher than the rest of the bundle. Vincor reached up and flipped through the page until an image caught his eye. "Nazrun, here, can you translate this?" Nazrun spoke, for the first time since Vincor had shown him the cube. "Why bother having me translate it? I've seen these things before; they sometimes come with that ability. Can't you just ask it to translate?" Vincor frowned and ran his fingers over the ghostly image. The book in front of him flickered a bit, and some pages flipped, but it didn't do anything. "I think each magical device is different. I don't know if this one can do it." Nazrun tried anyway. "Translate," he said, and pressed his fingers against a corner of the cube. The image flickered, and the same voice that greeted them from the small spirit earlier said, "I'm sorry, I can't do that right now." "Pity," Nazrun murmured, "Worth a shot though." He squinted at the floating, translucent book for a moment, then began to translate as he read. "Fairy Rings are said to be a trickster's cage. The Fae lure unsuspecting children and dim-witted adults into the confines of the ring and then trap them there forever. Those who manage to break out find that decades have gone past while they were merrymaking within the ring." "Decades," Vincor said, and closed his eyes. "Does it say anything else?" Nazrun scanned the document. "No," he finally said. "Nothing really important. Just some old folk tales about them." Vincor raised his hand up over the cube and waved it in a strange pattern of circles. The Italian book disappeared, and they returned to their choices. "What about this one?" Vincor asked, choosing an Archaic German newspaper. "Siblings playing in the woods. The boy disappears, the girl says he's been taken by fairies." Nazrun shifted, uncomfortable, as he read the rest of the article. "A thorough investigation and two months later, they find the - are you sure you want to hear this?" "I'll be fine; what does it say?" "They find the child's bones buried in the center of a Fairy Ring. Water from a nearby stream had washed away some of the dirt, and a skull was discovered by passers-by. Forensic evidence suggested head and neck trauma, though it was hard to tell at that point." He waved his hand again, and the article disappeared back into the clump. "Here," Vincor said, and picked out a Japanese textbook on mythology. "What about this one?" "Fairy rings aren't really a big part of Eastern mythology," Nazrun started, but watched as Vincor flipped through the book anyway. "Mushrooms are considered to be good for longevity, but I've never heard anything about - " He paused as Vincor retreated a few pages, back to a picture of a paper crane, not unlike the one sitting in the flowers on his very table. "What do you know about these?" "Paper cranes symbolize good health. If you fold a thousand of them, they're said to be able to cure any sickness." "I got one, recently."   Nazrun grabbed him by the shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle. "Are you kidding?" He asked, and sounded too excited, even to Vincor. "Who even does that any more?" "I don't know. I thought you might. It didn't come with a name or anything." "Let me see. That's the strangest thing I've ever heard." "Goodbye," Vincor said to the small cube, and it responded in kind. The liquid smoke retreated back into the cube, and he could feel the magic stop humming between his fingers. The cube grew cold again; Vincor replaced it back in its small hiding place, and they left the small library and ascended up the stairs back into modern day. <> The flowers had started to brown at the edges, little brown rings around the otherwise pristine whiteness of the petals. The paper crane was much more visible now, and Nazrun didn't wait to reach in and pluck it from where it perched. "Wow," he said, and turned it around in his hands. He looked it over for a moment before he unfolded it. Like before, there was nothing on the inside. Nazrun scrutinized both sides of the creased white paper, but eventually he too gave up and folded it back together. "It came with this, too," Vincor said, handing over the card. " 'We're sorry for your loss'?" Nazrun tilted his head, perusing the card as he'd done the crane. "Who's 'we'?" "I don't know," Vincor said again. His heart dropped at the confused and fascinated look on Nazrun's face. "No name, remember?" Vincor would be the first to admit that the mysteries of a Courier's job duties far eluded him. Couriers appeared for months at a time, and then they were gone for who knows how long. In the ten years that he'd known Nazrun, he'd seen the man living in the kingdom for a total of about two. Courier assignments could span years and take them to the furthest corners of the world. It took little imagination to understand why they weren't terribly popular, even among the members of court. Nazrun admitting that he had no clue what was going on shouldn't have been this disappointing. But he'd been all over the world, and it had always seemed that, no matter the topic, Nazrun always had something substantive - a small fact, a lttle anecdote - to contribute. That being said, the Courier wasn't a font of easy answers, but Vincor had hoped, and now the road ahead just looked that much longer. "What 'loss' are they talking about? Someone get word of Marie a little late?" Nazrun winced again and began to flick the edges of the card against the pad of his thumb. The stammering apology was already starting to work his way out of his mouth, but Vincor wasn't listening. Instead, he'd sat up, despondence pushed aside for the moment for a sudden jolt of insight. He'd received the flowers before this incident. They had been odd at the time, but now they just seemed suspicious. He picked one rose out of the vase and twisted it around in his fingers, searching for a clue that might have warned him of his daughter's disappearance, if that's what they were meant to do. "I'm going to visit the florist tomorrow," Vincor announced, interrupting Nazrun's stream of babbling. "That might be a good idea." Nazrun said. He picked up the paper crane again. "Do you mind if I take this?" "Go ahead. See if you can find anything else about it." The Courier tucked the small, paper bird into his pocket. "I should get going, then." He said, and got up to head for the door. Vincor grabbed a tail of his red and silver cloak as he passed. "Tell no one about the artifact," he said. Sanctioned by the King or not, magic of that calibur was still very rare and very illegal, and he wouldn't allow anyone malicious to destroy Marie's finding. It might not have worked all the time, and it was oft for the magic to simply stop channeling if he didn't hold it at just the right angle, and it was probably going to break soon, but he would've protected it with his life if Sheryl didn't need him to be alive to save her. "Hey, I'm a Courier; keeping secrets is what I do." Nazrun said, smiling. No, Vincor wanted to say, collecting secrets and whispering them to your employer is what you do. King Niall might already know about the archive, but most of the court didn't, and a Courier's loyalty was always hard to measure. Another pang of guilt shot through his stomach at that thought, and he closed his eyes. Nazrun had just spent the better part of two days helping him, and this was his thanks? "Vincor," Nazrun said, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Are you okay?" "Fine. Just tired." He looked up and tried to smile and maybe got the ends of his mouth to rise a little bit. He stood up to walk Nazrun to the door, but the Courier pushed him back down in his chair. "Rest, then. You'll need your energy. I'll let you know if I find anything new." "Thank you," he replied. At the door, Nazrun gave him a small bow of the head, then closed the door and once the sound of footsteps had disappeared, Vincor was left with his solitude and silence. <>

The translated pages were lying on the kitchen table when Nazrun returned late that afternoon, the bookmarks made into paper stars. The Courier picked one up, turning it over in his fingers. "This is cute," he said. "Did Sheryl teach you how to do this?" "Did you find her?" Vincor asked. Since he'd woken up he'd been awaiting news, good or bad. Nazrun shifted, and Vincor's heart plummeted. "No, not exactly." "What do you mean by that?" "I found this," Nazrun said, and held out a small chainmail sleeve. The ringlets had been popped open at the shoulder, some more jagged than others. Vincor closed his eyes and felt sick again. A thousand scenarios popped into his mind. It was cold comfort that Nazrun hadn't brought back a body. It didn't mean anything, either, said nothing about where Sheryl might be. With shaking hands, Vincor lifted the chainmail sleeve from Nazrun's palm and looked at the interlocking pattern of chains, as if searching for a clue within the reflections of the metal. "Is she - " Vincor started, and couldn't bear to finish the sentence. "I don't think so," Nazrun said. "But I don't know where she could have gone." "Where did you find this?" Nazrun turned to the door, beckoning Vincor forward. "Follow me; it's easier to just show you." <> They ran into Captain Annalise on the way, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that Annalise ran into them, striding purposefully up to the two of them. Nazrun saw her approach and shirked behind Vincor, standing apprehensively behind the historian as the Captain of the Guard advanced. She was flanked by her two Commanders, each giving Vincor the same dismissive look the other knights in the training area did. He chose to ignore them, turning his attention instead to Annalise. "I've heard that my squire has gone missing," she said. "Yes," Vincor said. "I heard you sent her home because she wasn't feeling well." Momentarily, so quickly that it could've passed in the span of a quick blink, a look of pain flit across Annalise's usually-harsh expression. "With the suddenness of Marie's sickness, I thought to be cautious. I would never have guessed - " "Annalise, I understand. Don't - " One of Annalise's Commanders stepped forward, hand on his sword. "That's Captain Annalise, historian." "- worry; there was no way you could have known." Vincor ignored him in his entirety without so much as a blink. When he'd been Captain of the Guard, this Commander was a sniveling squire far too eager to climb ranks to worry about the consequences of his actions. He'd managed to worm his way to Annalise's side, but then again, she was always more concerned with the ends, not so much the means. "If you have any clue where she might have gone, though..." "I don't, unfortunately. I'm so sorry, Vincor; I should've walked her home; I knew she wasn't feeling well, but she said she was fine to go on her own." She paused, "I'm a fool to let her go." Vincor stepped forward as Annalise broke eye contact and stared at the ground some distance in front of her. The Commander who had tried to interrupt them before drew his sword and took a battle stance between the two of them. In one swift, almost absent-minded motion, Vincor grabbed the man's sword wrist and twisted it, stopping only when he heard a nasty crack and the clatter of metal on the ground. The other Commander didn't move or speak, and only dared to help his friend up after Vincor had passed them. "Interesting choice for Commanders," Vincor mused, as he put his hand on Annalise's pauldron. He wanted to give it a light squeeze, like Erina had given him, but it woudn't have been felt through the metal and padding. "Not the best bushel to pick from," Annalise responded. Her expression was less grim at the reassuring shoulder pat, but she still lowered her head. "Vincor, I'm so sor - " "You don't." Vincor said, a bit more loudly than he meant to at first. Then, more quietly, "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Annalise." "Let me know if there's anything I can do." Vincor nodded, and she turned to leave, only looking back to bark an order at her simpering Commanders to hurry up. "He broke my wrist!" One of them screeched. Without looking at him, Annalise responded, "Let that be a lesson to you for drawing your weapon against an unarmed civilian. Now hurry up and get to the infirmary; I don't need dead weight." <> When Annalise was out of sight, a voice behind and above him said, quietly, "Have they gone?" Vincor looked behind him and saw nothing there. He looked up and just barely saw a cautious pair of green eyes peeking out from the branches of a tree. "They're gone. What are you doing?" The eyes disappeared, and a few moments later Nazrun tumbled out of the tree with less grace than was probably intended. He landed in the dirt with an "Ow!" but stood up quickly enough to let Vincor know he wasn't hurt too badly. Strange, he thought Couriers were supposed to be acrobatic and much less clumsy. "I was hiding," Nazrun said. "What else?" "Does Annalise even know who you are?" "Captain Annalise? No, probably not." Nazrun brushed himself off best as he could, and Vincor helped him pat down the part of his back he couldn't reach. "The Knights in general don't like us very much, that's all. That fellow whose wrist you broke, he doesn't like me especially." Frowning, Vincor motioned for them to continue walking. "Why?" Nazrun looked around, as if to make absolutely, double-sure that no Knights happened to wander nearby. "He has this strange notion that I've slept with his wife." "Have you?" Vincor prodded, growing increasingly irritated. "That's not the point." Nazrun looked around the corner, scanning the area. Vincor looked up and took in his surroundings too, breaking away from his own thoughts for a moment to get his own bearings. They were back near the training grounds, but far enough away that he could only barely hear the sound of metal clashing against itself, and only when the wind died down. They walked under a gilded archway entwined with blue ivy and multicolored roses, and Vincor knew they were in the Royal Gardens. He used to come here with Marie back when he was courting her. As Captain of the Guard, he had access even when it was closed to the public, and she would sit for hours watching the rabbits nibble at the carrots. They'd grown bold since Princess Erina convinced her father to stop hunting them (that's what he would say to passers-by, that the Princess had convinced him, when in fact when she was eight she actually just cried so hard upon seeing Niall holding a dead rabbit by the neck that she made herself sick for three days, and he'd never had the heart to shoot one again). They were so bold that sometimes, if you were patient enough, a couple might wander up to you in timid curiosity. Marie, of course, was always patient enough. Sheryl loved the Garden too, though her access was much more restricted. It was rare that she could ever visit, between her squire training and the limited time the Garden was open to the public. Vincor could see her being dismissed - maybe she wasn't really sick, but just tired from a bad night's sleep - and deciding to take advantage of the hour and walk home through the garden. They were headed in the general direction of the training grounds, after all, and Vincor imagined her path from the equipment storage through the other side of the Gardens. But that just made her disappearance that much more baffling; she would've been in broad daylight, with visitors all around. Who could've taken her, struggling as she probably would have been, judging from the condition of her sleeve, and have nobody see? "Here," Nazrun said, and ducked into an expanse of trees so thick Vincor wasn't sure he was going to fit. Here was where the hunting grounds had spilled into the garden. He could see where the metal of the grate was twisted and bent inwards. Here was probably how the rabbits had gotten through, too, though why Sheryl would be back here was beyond his reasoning. Or how Nazrun even found this. Twisting his body sideways and sucking in his gut a little more than he would ever admit, Vincor managed to squeeze between the trees and follow Nazrun through the thick forest. He tripped on a root and nearly went sprawling, but managed to cling for balance on another branch. He looked up and Nazrun was even further, not bothering to look back. In his stomach, Vincor's ire began to boil. How could Sheryl possibly have gotten out here? Why would she come out here? She was small for her age, and awfully thin, but if she was sick, there was no way she could get this far in the woods. "If this is some sort of prank," Vincor growled in warning. Surprised, Nazrun finally turned around. "Why would you think it's a prank?" A hundred ways to answer that question, and none that wouldn't likely piss off his guide. Because it's so unlikely that she made it out here. Because there's no reason for her to be here. Because you're a Courier, and because you're a Courier and I used to be Captain of the Guard I've never fully trusted you. Vincor winced as a small pang of guilt shot through his stomach. He'd first met Nazrun - what, ten years ago? Something like that, just when he noticed a new face meeting regularly with King Niall. Nazrun stood out - skin his color wasn't common, not as far North as they were, and he had an accent that was unplaceable. So he'd introduced himself, and the other man was surprised he was being approached by a Knight at all (much less Captain of the Guard,) but accepted his hospitality, regardless. Nazrun was a pleasant enough acquaintance, at least until Vincor overheard his Knights whispering about the new green-eyed, caramel-skinned Courier who had the uncanny ability to find anyone, no matter where in the world they were. Vincor had been angry at first, that his friend had been hiding that secret. The next time he saw Nazrun, he'd intended to call him out on his deception, how could you pretend to be so open and kind when really you were working as a rat. You know the reputation your folk have around the Knights, and you were being all buddy-buddy with me, anyway. That had been the plan, except the next time he met Nazrun, the Courier had a friend with him, a raven-haired, blue-eyed beauty who held out her hand and introduced herself as Marie. "Vincor, why do you think this is a prank?" Curious green eyes, closer than Vincor expected, but not close enough to really invade his personal space. He looked down, the words and anger deflating in his chest. "I don't think it's a prank. I'm sorry, I misspoke. It's just hard to believe that Sheryl would be all the way out here." "She might not have been. I just found her sleeve here, remember?" Nazrun thought for a second, then winced, shoulders going almost as high as his ears. "I didn't mean that - I'm sure she's fine, just that - you wanted to - I'm so sorry, Vincor," he finally finished, leaving all his other sentences behind. With as much willpower as he could muster, Vincor pushed away the image of a leopard dragging a small body along the ground, breaking open the chain links on rocks, and then disappearing into the trees and leaving behind the small token. No blood on the sleeve, remember? But that didn't stop him from checking again, every tiny bit of the metal latticework to make sure. "Let's just keep going," Vincor said. He wanted to keep an eye on the trees above, but ended up tripping over a root as a result. Nazrun had forged ahead of him again, checking back only every few minutes to make sure that he was still following. Again, doubt and fear began to seep into Vincor's stomach the further they walked. If he looked behind him, the Garden would have been long out of view, and the only light was coming from the slanted beams of the late afternoon sun. "Are you sure we're going the right way?" Vincor asked, bending a branch out of his way. "You're sure you're remembering correctly?" "We're here," Nazrun responded. He gestured forward, and Vincor looked at him, frowning for a moment, before squeezing through the last line of trees. He landed in a small clearing in the forest, the trees breaking in a tight circle. "In here? This clearing?" Vincor asked. Nazrun nodded and stepped four or five paces to the side. He pointed at a patch of dirt directly in front of him. "Right here, to be exact." Vincor walked forward, keeping his eyes on the ground for any possible other clues. As he stepped close to where Nazrun was, he thought he saw a small creature underneath his foot and he hopped back to avoid it. The "creature" didn't move, and Vincor leaned down to examine it closer. It was a small, round mushroom, white against the dark green of the forest floor. If it had been brown, he likely would have missed it. There was another next to it, and next to that one too. Vincor looked up and traced his fingers in the air in the shape of a large circle, running around the inner ring of the clearing. Where Nazrun was pointing, was just barely outside this hypothetical ring. And true enough, as Vincor carefully made his way over, a small white mushroom poked out from the grass just next to the patch of dirt where the chainmail sleeve had been. "They're called Fairy Rings," Nazrun said, pointing to the shape the mushrooms made. Vincor had heard of them before, but only vaguely. One of the old tales that Marie used to tell Sheryl for bedtime stories, and maybe he'd overheard the term accidentally. If Marie was telling stories about them, then there had to be information about these Fairy Rings in the archive somewhere. Out of impulse, Vincor stepped into the ring and walked to the center. Nazrun watched him, blinking. "What're you waiting for?" "I don't know," Vincor said. "Is anything happening?" They stayed silent for a few seconds and let the breeze pass through the clearing before Nazrun shrugged. "Nothing special. Sun's going down." Vincor nodded and stepped out of the circle of mushrooms. He felt slightly embarassed, like he had been caught whispering an incantation in an empty, dark room and expecting to meet the grisly ghost of a murdered princess. If Nazrun found it strange, the man said nothing about it and simply began to head back. Vincor picked his way through the forest after him, and strained his ears for the sound of a leopard prowling in the trees. <>

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