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that amongst the young ladies
of noble birth who were privy to this information, which of course
was all of them, there would be no small amount of resentment
flowering from this difficult situation.
    ‘ I’m sure we will know my
son’s decision in due course,’ offered Veronique, her tone leaving
little doubt in the minds of her sewing circle that the subject was
no longer open for discussion.
    Veronique was about to invite the ladies to
finish their needlework and retire for the evening when she was
saved the trouble by the sudden arrival of someone barging noisily
into her chambers. Mortaron flung open the doors to the chamber
without warning, striding into the room heedless of what decorum
expected of him.
    Waiting in the shadowed doorway behind The
Baron was a giant of a man, clad in black armor and draped in the
pelts of wolves that hung from him in a most gruesome fashion. His
face, partly obscured by the jittery shadows cast by the firelight,
was brutal, appearing for all the world like it was carved from
stone. Even the eyes betrayed little sign of any humanity, instead
presenting the man with the aspect of some apex predator, a cold
dead stare that spoke only of the horrors they had witnessed. The
stone man’s name was Huron, and he was The Baron’s personal
enforcer.
    Coming to stand before his sister, the girls
of the sewing circle dared not look up to meet the cold stare of
The Baron, their faces turned resolutely toward the floor of the
chamber in fear.
    ‘ Leave us’ said Veronique
to the assembled women, who quickly gathered up their things and
fled from the hearth-side, filing out timidly past the towering
Huron, who reached in to close the door behind the last of the
girls, leaving Veronique and Mortaron alone in the room.
    ‘ Your message said it was
urgent,’ stated The Baron flatly.
    Slowly, Veronique laid aside the needle and
patchwork in her hands, turned to face her brother.
    ‘ How is it I know how to
knock when entering the private chambers of another, and you so
clearly do not? Were our parents so selective with our education in
the art of manners?’
    Mortaron snorted derisively, ‘If you’ve
something to say then I’m here to listen, otherwise do not tax me
of my time. I’ve more pressing concerns that picking out fancy
colors for needlework.’
    ‘ Not more pressing than
this I’m sure,’ said Veronique matter of factly, ‘I saw someone at
court today, during the celebrations.’
    ‘ And this matters
because...?’
    Because this person could unravel our great
secret, brother,’ said Veronique with no small amount of bitter
delight. At this, Mortaron’s eyes widened in surprise, and he shot
forward to snatch Veronique roughly by the arm, dragging her to her
feet. She cried out with the pain of it, but The Baron did not
relax his grip one bit, ‘don’t test me woman, you better than any
other should know how limited my patience is. Tell me who it was
that you saw.’
    ‘ You’re hurting me!’
protested Veronique as she struggled against her
brother.
    ‘ You know what is at
stake!’ he exclaimed.
    Veronique laughed, but there was no mirth to
the sound, ‘I know better than any what is at stake. I’ve carried
this burden with me almost the whole of my life!’
    ‘ I see your reputation is
well deserved, Baron,’ said another voice from somewhere behind
them.
    Turning quickly, Mortaron squinted into the
shadows of the large chamber, struggling to make out the source of
the sound. The voice itself was as coarse as crushed glass, and
when one of the shadows began to shift, stepping into the
flickering light of the fire, it was plain to see that it was a
face well matched to the voice. A face which belonged to none other
than the well groomed man that had caused Veronique so much concern
to see.
    Even in the poor light of the fire, it was
plain to see that the man was possessed of a certain animal quality
that accounted for his harsh appearance. The eyes, deep set in