Fabian — Greymark
The road really was crimson.
Agnes hadn't exaggerated. Not much, anyway. Twenty-two riders in crimson capes filled the lane outside our gate, two by two, like someone had spilled a bottle of wine down the hill and it had decided to stand in formation.
Half of Greymark had followed them up from town. The townspeople lined the lane behind the riders, staring. For once, they weren't only staring at me.
All four of us went out to meet her the way we'd come back from the forest. Naomi was still in her armor, Marika was still in her riding leathers, and I was still wearing a good part of the Gloamwood on my boots. Only Hana looked like she'd spent the day at home, because she had.
"Chin up," Marika muttered.
"It is up."
"Further."
It was already as far up as it went. That's a habit you pick up when you're the shortest person on the estate.
The rider at the front swung down from her horse.
She was tall. Taller than Marika, almost as tall as Naomi. Golden hair in one tight braid down her back. Silver half-plate, a crimson cape, a thin gold circlet. And green eyes that went over our gate, our walls and our guards like she was counting them, which she probably was.
First Princess Cordelia.
Naomi bowed. We all bowed. Behind us, the guards dropped to one knee.
"Your Highness," Naomi said. "Welcome to Greymark."
"Countess Valcrest." Her voice was cool and clear. "Thank you."
Her eyes moved on, past Marika, past Hana, and stopped on me.
They stayed there.
Under 「Eyes of Elysia」, her light was white with a thread of yellow running through it. A long ride's worth. She'd come all the way from Sanctara, and she wasn't going to admit she was tired.
I knew someone else like that. She was standing right next to me.
"You're the Saint," said Princess Cordelia.
"Yes, Your Highness."
She looked at my boots. Then at my collar. Then back at my face.
"I expected..." She stopped.
"Someone taller?" I offered.
"Someone cleaner."
Hana made a small, wounded sound and swooped in to brush off my collar. Something small, black and leggy fell off it. Everyone politely watched it fall.
"We've been in the Gloamwood," Naomi said.
"So I see."
Behind the princess, the escort was dismounting. One of the riders, smaller than the others, had her helmet turned toward me. When I looked back, she looked away so fast her whole helmet wobbled.
The princess glanced over her shoulder at that rider. Just once. Then she turned back to Naomi, and her face gave away nothing at all.
We put her in the front parlor, the one with the good chairs nobody ever sits in.
Hana offered tea.
"No, thank you." The princess didn't sit either. "I'll be brief."
"Of course, Your Highness," said Naomi.
"My mother read your report. She sent me to see the Saint of Greymark with my own eyes, and to see what he can do." Her gaze slid to me. "Two skills, the report said. 「Heal」 and 「Cure」. I'm here to witness both."
My stomach did a small, unhelpful flip.
Two skills, the report said. I had seven. And one of them was still mostly question marks.
"Not today," said Naomi.
The princess's eyebrows rose by about the width of a hair. "Not today."
"He's already spent most of his mana."
Nine out of seventeen. "Most" was doing some very heavy lifting in that sentence. But technically, it was holding.
"On what?" asked the princess.
"My guards. We met trouble in the Gloamwood this morning."
"What kind of trouble?"
"The kind I'll report properly," said Naomi. "Tomorrow."
My mouth opened before my brain could stop it. "I could probably do one now, if—"
Naomi looked at me.
I closed my mouth.
The princess looked at me too. Then at Naomi. "He seems to think he could."
"He always thinks he could," said Naomi.
"He thinks he could beat her in a spar, too," Marika added. "Every single morning."
"He's very determined," said Hana warmly, which helped a lot less than she thought it did.
The princess was quiet for a moment.
"I'm told he heals at your gate every afternoon."
"He does."
"Then I'll watch tomorrow's."
"Yes, Your Highness."
She inclined her head, very slightly, and turned to go. At the door, she paused.
"Countess. Everything in this house seems to happen tomorrow."
Naomi didn't blink. "Only the important things, Your Highness."
One corner of the princess's mouth moved. It might have been the start of a smile, or it might have been a draft. Then she was gone.
Marika let out a long breath. "Well. She hates us."
"She doesn't hate us," said Hana.
"Fine. She hates him."
"She doesn't hate me," I said. "She thinks I'm dirty."
"You are dirty," said all three of my sisters.
Liesel — Greymark
The helmet was the second-worst decision of my life.
The worst was letting my mouth pick the name Beth.
But the helmet was a close second. It was hot. It smelled like the last guard who'd worn it. And every time I turned my head, it turned a little later, like it was thinking it over first.
Still, it worked. Cordelia hadn't looked at me once the whole ride. Well, maybe once, at the gate. But that was just a look. Cordelia looks at everything. It's how she counts things.
Once the horses were stabled and our packs were stuffed into the Valcrest barracks, the captain gave us the evening. Most of the others went looking for a bath.
I went looking for the town.
Greymark was small and gray and loud. Women hauled grain sacks two to a shoulder, children chased chickens between their legs, and everyone, absolutely everyone, was talking about the same person.
"You here for our Saint?" a baker's wife called through her window, before I'd even said hello. "Pity. No healing hour today. Your princess has got him."
"There's usually a healing hour?"
"Every afternoon. Rain or shine. Right inside his gate." She pushed a bun at me. "Eat. You're tiny."
"I'm a knight."
"A tiny knight. Eat."
I ate.
Two streets later, a little girl with a missing tooth tugged on my tabard. "Are you here for the Saint?"
"Maybe. Have you met him?"
"He made my fever go away!" She spun around once, just because she could. "His circle was white. It tickled."
"How much did he make you pay?"
She looked at me like I'd asked whether the sky was made of cheese. "Nothing."
That was the part that kept snagging on me. Nobody had paid. Not the girl, not the baker's wife's mother with the burned hand, not the farmer whose cut I heard about at the well. He just came out every afternoon and did it. For strangers. For nothing.
I'd met exactly three men in my life, not counting Father. The one who fell asleep in his soup had been the best of the three.
As far as I could tell, men weren't supposed to do things. Men were supposed to be rare, and be looked after.
This one went out every day and worked until he got dizzy.
"Till he's white as milk," said the woman at the well, with enormous pride. "Then Lady Hana walks him back inside, and the next day he's out again."
"Eleven, he did, the first day," said the woman beside her. "Seventeen now. Captain Sigrid tells everybody the count."
"So he's getting better at it," I said.
"Must be. Practice."
That made sense. Everything gets better with practice. My spear certainly had.
"Half the county's sent him proposals," the second woman went on. "The Countess burns them."
"She files them," said the first. "Near the fireplace."
"Same thing."
A girl hauling two water buckets slowed down just to join in. "He loses to her every morning, too. Sparring, in the yard. You can hear it from the road. Clack, clack, thump."
"Every morning?"
"Every morning. Never wins. Never stops."
I liked him a little for that. I couldn't help it.
By sundown, I knew more about Fabian Valcrest than I knew about some of my own cousins. And I still wanted more. So I went where I always go when I want to know something real.
The stables.
The stable girl was small, quick and suspicious, which meant she was good at her job.
"Those are royal horses," she said, the second I walked in. "They're fine. I checked them twice."
"I know. I'm not here for them." I stopped at the stall of a gray mare dozing with one hind foot cocked. "Who's this?"
"That's the Young Master's. Well, she's the calmest, so she's his."
"Does he ride much?"
"Today he rode into the Gloamwood." She said it the way you'd say today he flew to the moon. "With Lady Naomi. And he brought the horse back."
"A man went into the Gloamwood."
"And brought the horse back," she repeated firmly, like that was the important part.
Her name was Tilly, it turned out, and she'd been the Saint's very first patient. A rope burn, right across her palm. She showed me the spot. There was nothing there at all.
"And then he thanked me," Tilly said.
"He thanked you? You were the one getting healed."
"That's what I said."
I stood in the warm, horse-smelling dark for a long time, scratching the gray mare's nose, and thought about a man who rode into monster forests, thanked stable girls, lost every single morning and got up again anyway.
Cordelia had come here because Mother told her to.
I'd come because I wanted to see a man up close.
Now I wanted to see this one.
Fabian — Greymark
Hana scrubbed the Gloamwood off me personally. Then she left me alone for exactly as long as it took her to fetch a clean doublet.
It was enough.
I sat on the edge of my bed and did the thing I should've done the second that circle turned green.
I checked my skills.
It's hard to explain. It's like looking at a shelf inside your own head, where every skill sits with its name and what it does, and you make sure they're all still there.
「Heal」 and 「Cure」 both had room to go Green now, like doors I hadn't noticed were unlocked. 「Mass Heal」 and 「Vigor」 had been Green from the start. 「Blessing of Elysia」 was still mostly question marks. 「Eyes of Elysia」 sat there quietly, glowing.
And 「Covenant」.
I stopped.
The circle beside it wasn't White anymore.
I read it once. Then twice. Then a third time, very slowly, in case my head was playing tricks on me.
Knock, knock.
"Dinner," said Hana, through the door. "The princess is already downstairs, so please don't run."
I didn't run. I walked very fast, with my brain running in circles behind me.
Dinner was soup, roast fowl, fresh bread, and the most careful conversation I'd ever been part of.
The princess sat at Naomi's right. I sat across from her, which meant that every time I looked up, she was already looking at me. Hana sat beside me and kept putting things on my plate. Marika sat beside Hana, which turned out to matter.
"How many people does he heal in a day?" the princess asked.
Hana's hand went straight to her apron pocket, where the notebook lives.
Under the table, something thumped.
"Ow," said Hana.
"It varies," said Naomi.
"From what to what?"
"From day to day, Your Highness."
The princess looked at Naomi for a long, quiet moment. Then she tore her bread in half and didn't ask again.
I passed her the butter, because she was looking at it.
She looked at the butter. Then at me.
"Thank you," she said slowly.
"You're welcome, Your Highness."
Agnes came around with the pitcher. I thanked her too, because she'd been on her feet since dawn and her cap was still a little crooked from earlier.
The princess watched that as well.
"Do you always thank the servants, Lord Fabian?"
I wasn't sure what the right answer was. "They brought me food. Somebody cooked it, too. I'd thank them, but they're in the kitchen."
"Most men I've dined with expected me to serve them."
"You're a princess."
"That never stopped them."
I thought about it. "Then they were idiots, Your Highness."
Marika choked on her soup.
"Fabian," said Naomi.
"No," said the princess. "He's right."
She went back to her bread. But I'd seen it, right before she looked down: the thread of tired yellow in her light, and one corner of her mouth doing something very small.
I had no idea what it meant. I decided to count it as a win.
When the plates were cleared, she rose. "Countess. Thank you for dinner. I'll see the healing hour tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Naomi agreed.
"Lord Fabian."
"Your Highness."
Two crimson guards fell in behind her at the door, and their footsteps faded up the stairs toward the guest wing.
Naomi waited until we couldn't hear them anymore. Then she set down her cup.
"Reading room," she said. "All of you."
Liesel — Greymark
I skipped dinner. The baker's bun had been a long time ago, and my stomach had opinions about that.
But the kitchen door of House Valcrest was propped open for the heat, the head maid was very busy, and with twenty-one of us in the house, nobody looks twice at one more crimson tabard.
I was only going to look. Just one look at him up close, without Cordelia in the way.
I reached the end of a corridor just in time to see them go by: the Countess in front with a candle, then the one with the twin tails, then the gentle one, and then him, short and brown-haired, hurrying to keep up.
They went into a room at the far end. The door shut.
The corridor was dark. And empty. And very, very tempting.
The helmet made listening hard. I pressed it against the wood anyway.
Fabian — Greymark
The reading room smelled like old paper, candle wax and Father. It probably always would.
Naomi shut the door. Hana lit two more candles. Marika sat on the arm of Father's chair, and for once, Naomi didn't make her move.
"Now," said Naomi. "Finish what you started."
So I did.
"「Mass Heal」 was Green," I said. "The circle. When I cast it."
"We gathered," said Marika. "'It was green.' Very informative."
"It means I'm Green. My rank." I took a breath. "Probably since the morning the new skills showed up. 「Mass Heal」 and 「Vigor」 both start at Green. I just never got to cast one and see."
Hana's hand flew to her mouth.
"Because somebody said not yet," said Marika.
We all looked at Naomi.
"Noted," said Naomi.
"When your rank goes up, all your skills go up with it," I said. "So before dinner, I checked them. All of them."
"And?" said Marika.
"And 「Covenant」 changed."
All three of them went very still.
In my chest, three candles leaned toward me at once.
"Its circle's Green now," I said. "Still with the gold threads. And the number's different."
"What number?" asked Naomi.
"How many people it can bind." I swallowed. "It's four now."
Silence.
"Four," Hana said softly.
"Four. Not three."
"You said three was all you'd ever have," said Naomi.
"I thought it was. It said three. Now it says four."
Marika crossed her arms. "So whoever comes later..."
"Can get in line. Yes. Thank you, Sis Marika."
"I'm just saying. There's a line now. With a spot in it."
"Nobody's getting in any line."
Naomi raised one hand, and we both shut up. "Is that all?"
"No." This was the part I'd read three times. "There's a new line underneath. It says, Passive: Regeneration (small)."
"Regeneration," Hana repeated.
"I think it means the people I've bound heal a little on their own. All the time. Small things."
Marika looked down at her palm.
"What?" I said.
"Nothing."
"Sis Marika."
"I had a blister." She scowled at her hand like it had betrayed her. "From the reins. On the east road. It was there this morning. Now it's gone."
"You don't get blisters," said Naomi.
"I don't get blisters. But if I did, it'd be gone."
Hana held up her thumb. "I cut this on the bread knife this afternoon, while I was waiting for you. It closed before you got home." Her eyes were shining. "I thought I'd imagined it."
Naomi looked at her own knuckles. The ones she scrapes on my practice sword every morning, because she spars one-handed and doesn't bother with gloves.
"Hm," she said.
"Big Sis?"
"They've been closing faster. About a week." She flexed her hand. "I thought it was the salve."
"My salve is very good," said Hana, a little hurt.
"It is," said Naomi. "It isn't that good."
"Does it work on you?" Marika asked me.
"No idea. I haven't cut myself to check."
"And you won't," said all three of them.
Naomi stood behind Father's chair with both hands on its back, the way she stands in the war room. When she spoke again, it was in her Countess voice.
"Nobody hears about this. Not the guards. Not the escort." Her eyes went to me. "Not the princess."
"I know."
"Four," Hana whispered again, like she was trying the word out.
Outside the door, something went clonk.
Everyone froze.
Metal on wood. Then a scrape, and the quick, jingling rush of someone running in armor.
Marika was at the door before I'd even turned my head. She yanked it open.
The corridor was empty. Just dark, a candle flame bending in the draft, and footsteps fading fast toward the far stairs.
Marika took two steps after them. Then she stopped and stood there, listening, until there was nothing left to hear.
"Who?" said Naomi.
"Didn't see." Marika's jaw was tight. "Armor. Light. Fast."
"How fast?"
Marika didn't answer right away. That was the scariest thing that had happened all day, and I'd been rained on by spiders.
"...Fast," she said.
I looked at my sisters. At Naomi's hands, white-knuckled on the back of Father's chair. At the open door, and the dark beyond it.
For over a month, the one secret that could cost my sisters everything had stayed inside this room.
Now some of it was running down the hall in armor.