October 15, 1345.
St. Martin's Fort,
The high town of Leithill,
Border Town between Myknos and Imras.
Princess Alyn Midika Tutton
As Alyn stared out over the balcony of her room in St. Martin's Fort to the Knights Pass that linked Myknos and Imras, a replay of the events of the past two weeks ran through her head.
Their travels had not been smooth as was expected. They had encountered a few bandits and lost quite a number of good men and those that didn't die in the battle field eventually succumbed to the fever.
They weren't lucky to have an experienced healer with them so Alyn and a few of the women who could stomach the sight of blood worked tirelessly to save their lives.
Luckily, Higuain survived yet another injury and she was rather glad he had made it all the way to Leithill with her as Lord Rickard d'Estaing, the Earl of Leithill, turned out to be an impossible obstacle to their plans.
They had warned him of the threat brewing outside their walls and she could still remember the look on his face as she told him.
"You're just a woman and a grieving one at that." He said as he patted her hand affectionately, "These walls have never been breached and I could go on and on about our vantage point over any approaching armies but you would not understand. These are masculine matters I'm afraid. You're not built for this sort of stuff."
The rage that had threatened to burst forth then plagued her even now and she so dearly wanted to punch the man. It had taken a tremendous amount of self control on her part to stop her but the man as obnoxious and sexist as ever went on and on about how inefficient women tended to be.
When she had tried voicing her concerns to Sir Higuain, he had given her a look that meant they would talk later and he was still yet to fulfill that promise and it had been two whole days!
"Princess Alyn fix your posture." Duenna Eleftheria scolded, jarring her out of her thoughts. She had forgotten the women in her room that had been sent to keep her company.
"You're a princess and a young one at that. You shouldn't slouch."
A scoff came from her bed and she turned to see Lord Rickard's twin daughters, Nerea and Nurea, sitting on her bed playing away at needle point. The matching beauties were the epitome of grace and poise in their postures but she prepared for the mental lashing she was sure to receive from the over pampered brats.
"I really don't think you can call her a princess anymore Duenna. After all, the kingdom that once belonged to her family isn't theirs anymore." Nerea or Nurea said, with a sweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
She really couldn't tell the bloody imps apart nor did she care to. They were alike in all ways except where one fancied berating people quite harshly, the other tended to do it quite politely, seeing herself as the ultimate example of lady like perfection.
But weren't they right? They already lost their kingdom to Khasi and there was no one to help her take it back. Well no one but Hayden. But the blasted Lord Rickard stood in her path like a giant and she didn't see anyway she could get past him.
"Silence Nerea. A lady is expected to be empathic at all times." Duenna Eleftheria scolded before she could respond, "Accept my apologies Princess. These two have a hard time being polite. Still, you shouldn't worry so much. St. Martin's Fort is the safest in the Kingdom."
"I know Duenna." She said, trying to sound as patronizing as possible, "I just feel like I should be doing something."
She said, leaving the part about her intentions to cross the border out of it. She still didn't know who she could trust and there was only so much information she could share around the Imps.
She sat to tea and poured herself a cup delicately. Steam wafted from the cup filling the air with the sweet smell of chamomile.
Numerous thoughts flooded her mind but the one that worried her the most was her lack of knowledge on Odeya's whereabouts.
She remembered the way they had parted and was filled with reinforced courage. Odeya was a survivor and she knew her role to play in this war. Her only prayer was that she would be able to fulfil hers.
Looking out the window one more time, she saw a wagon cross the narrow gap in the mountains and an idea flickered in her head. All she would have to do is wait for the right time to strike.
And if there was one virtue she had, it was patience.
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