"We have to go," Louen instructed, grabbing Leila's hand and dragging her towards the shore. "Now!"

"Why?" Leila asked, holding back. "I doubt they've seen us."

"It's not about us," Louen answered, throwing his shirt on over his still soaking body. "If the Greyjoys have made it this far north, that means that the scouts didn't see them. That means that all the towns on the coast are vulnerable!" Louen squished into all of his clothes, the salt water ruining their pristine condition. Allura seemed to know something was wrong, and excitedly let the prince untie her.

"I will surely catch a cold like this…" Leila mumbled as she slipped her dress over her shoulders. Louen untied his cape and put it around her shoulders.

"This should keep you warm," smiled he. Louen waited until she was ready and helped her mount the steed.

"Are you okay?" Leila asked, helping Louen up.

"I'll be okay once we're back in Couronne," Louen answered, taking the reins in his hands. "Run Allura, show us the meaning of speed. Yah!" Louen whipped the reins and kicked the horse's sides. The pegasus whinnied in response and charged down the beach. Allura spread her great wings and beat them in time with each stride. When her feet started to skim the surface of the sand Louen pulled on the reins, sending them all skyward. As soon as they were airborne the trio flew on a beeline for the capitol of Bretonnia, not skirting the coast or looking at pretty sights like on their arrival to the cove. Leila looked at Louen's face. She did not see the carefree happy boy she once knew. His face was stern, a glare of pure determination.

'He's making sure it never happens again,' Leila thought. 'He wants to make sure Orléans never happens again…' The blistering speeds that they were flying mixed with the cold of the seawater made Louen shiver uncontrollably. His body would soon get a cold, or worse, a fever. Any wise man would slow down and warm up. But not him, for king and country Louen would endure a thousand deaths. Such was the loyalty and courage of a Bretonnian knight. Leila tried to distract herself by eyeing the land underneath them. Bretonnia was a green land, with rolling hills and winding roads. Woods grew in abundance, home to wild deer, boar, and wolf. With summer on the eve the fields of wheat and barley were turning golden, ready for harvest. Hamlets dotted the country, the peasants working the fields and tending to the animals. Many towns were built around river crossings, crossroads, and chapels to the Lady. It had been a long-standing tradition for Bretonnian knights to reside near a chapel to the Lady and protect it. Peasants would flock to them for protection, establishing villages. Knights would join their brethren and allow for larger to towns to flourish. This was a system that had been going on for a thousand years. Yet the tiny villages came and went underneath them. Allura was running through the air as fast as a pegasus could fly. Leila clung to Louen so tight that she was suffocating him. The prince cared little for this though. Allura panted with each wing beat, only stopping to glide when they entered thermal winds that pushed them up. The walls of the Outer Ring crawled over the horizon. Walls of stone several metres tall and thick acted as a beacon for all travellers.

"Thank the Lady!" Leila sighed in relief. "We are safe in Couronne."

"We've more to travel," Louen shouted back as they glided across the wall. "There are some miles to go!" The barracks and fortresses below them were ablaze with activity. The furnaces burnt hot, tending to the soldier's weapons and armour. Some miles of empty fields led to another great wall, the Middle Ring. The usual smell of incense, smoke and faeces that stank up the Middle Ring was almost non-existent up where they were. People jostled through the streets, the crowds parting for wagons and horses. The wall of the Inner Ring was soon upon them. At last they were over the walls of the Inner Ring and among the aristocrats. Several pegasi flew lazily in the sky, the rich flaunting their wealth by parading around on their pets.

"Are you alright?" Louen asked, looking back at the Damsel, she nodded, holding him close. Her skin was pale and lips a tinge of blue. Because of his haste she was freezing, Louen's heart ached for her. As they approached the forest of trees that circled the White Palace, several knights on armoured steeds flew out to meet them. A necessary precaution, as few were allowed to fly over the Royarch's home. Recognising the prince they joined ranks with him helping guide him down. Allura hit the tiles hard, running several metres before she stopped.

"Stable my horse!" Louen barked at the waiting servants. "Take Lady Leila to the Damsel's wing now!"

Louen practically kicked down the door to the throne room as he barged in.

"Father!" Louen shouted. The people in the throne room, cleaning maids, lords, Damsels and knights all passing by, looked at the bedraggled and shivering prince in shock. Yet, there was no Royarch upon his throne. Where was he? Louen looked around the room, as if waiting for an explanation.

"Knight!" the prince turned to one of the many who guarded the sacred chamber. "Where is my father, your king?"

"The Royarch is in a meeting in the Tower of the Table, your -" Louen was running before the man had finished. Through several smaller walkways and even vaulting through a couple of windows led the prince to the Tower of the Table. Located exactly in the centre of Couronne, the Tower held one of the most important objects in Bretonnia. The Round Table. The Table was where the Royarch, Fey Enchantress, and chosen others met to run the country, and plan for times of great peril. Louen was allowed to enter the Tower, like most of the other lords and ladies, but few saw nothing more than the view from up atop the Tower. On the second highest level the stairs stopped and turned to a long hall. Louen did not stop, running straight for the guards at the door.

"Move!" Louen bellowed, charging for them. The paladins did not protest, either too alarmed or too bored to stop their prince. Louen barrelled through the door, falling flat on his face. The people who sat around the table gasped, standing to attention.

"What is the meaning of this!?" a knight roared. "Explain yourself boy!"

"Greyjoys!" Louen spluttered, scrambling up and dropping his knee in front of his father. "My lords, I bring dire news. An armada of Greyjoy ships managed to slip past our scouts. They're headed north as we speak!" The news brought mixed responses from the nobles sitting around the table. Many simply dismissed it, but others saw the truth of his words. Louen looked up to see the Table and those sitting around it. The Royarch sat with the Fey Enchantress on his left and Baudouin at his right. The other chairs were filled with the Grail Knights. The Grail Knights were the most revered and legendary of all Bretonnian knights. Having spent years questing for the glory of Bretonnia and the Lady, they had been given the honour of drinking from her Grail. In times of old it was thought that to drink from the Grail made you a saint, and many still revered the Grail Knights as such. The Grail Knights were the Royarch's closest allies and trusted advisors. They owned and protected many of the provinces, watching over their flock. Maestro Lupine and Grandmaster Victor besides Baudouin and the Fey, filled the only chairs unoccupied by Grail Knights.

"How many ships were there?" One of the Knights asked. Louen knew the man who questioned him. Lord Albric d'Bordeleaux was in charge of the second largest city in the country, and one of Charlemagne's oldest friends. A brutal and cunning man, he was a great asset to the Royarch's court.

"At least fifteen," Louen answered. "Each big enough to man a crew of over thirty." More murmurs around the table, mostly concern and anger.

"Rise, my son." Royarch Charlemagne answered. "Take a seat." Baudouin's face lit up, but almost everyone else protested.

"It is forbidden!" one of the Grail Knights protested. "Only the Royarch and his heir may sit at the table!"

"Any more than two members of the royal family and it would be sacrilegious," another added. Even the Fey Enchantress seemed against the idea. Louen was flabbergasted at the thought. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought of sitting side by side with the champions of Bretonnia!

"Have we not open chairs?" Charlemagne bellowed, silencing the Knights. Louen had spied two empty chairs in between Victor and Lord d'Bordeleaux. "Never once has a chair of the Table been unoccupied, let Louen take place for one of the absent."

"I assume this will only be until another of the Grail Knights is chosen?" Maestro Lupine asked. "I think if that is the case then I will approve." The wisdom of a Maester was always appreciated, and the Knights listened with eagerness.

"Though Louen may only be a boy, I think this might be a chance for him to prove himself!" Victor spoke, looking at his apprentice kindly. "All of you knights believe that-"

"This has nothing to do with you, heretic!" one of the Grail Knights spat. "Why do we even let your filth in here?"

"Ser Gawain, Grail Knight of the Burgundy Hold." Victor replied. "You despise people who are clearly devoted to helping you. Were it not for my organisation of heretics your entire province would have been exterminated by cholera!" Many in Bretonnia had a deep hatred for the Witch Hunters. Laws of church or state did not hold them back, only what the Royarch said prevented them from doing what they wished. Victor's organisation had only held a seat at the table in the last decade, and the Grail Knights were still unhappy.

"Enough you two," Royarch Charlemagne grumbled. "Prince Louen has brought us dire news that we must address." Louen could feel every eye in the room turn to him. "If they have sent a fleet that large, it can only mean that they wish to invade Tilea."

"A city we cannot afford to lose," Maestro Lupine mumbled, scratching his beard.

"Agreed!" Albric d'Bordeleaux slammed his fist on the table. "I will take it upon myself to rid the word of these vermin, only say the word!"

"No," the Royarch shook his head. "I have other plans for you. Louen!" the prince almost jumped out of his seat hearing his name barked. "This will be left to your responsibility."

"Mon Royarch?" Louen gulped, looking at his father.

"I shall have a group of knights assigned to be your entourage. Use them as you will." The Royarch heard no more on the matter, turning to the map that lay in the centre of the table. Just looking at the map told you it was made by a Bretonnian. When the War of the Usurper began, House Leoncoeur and Bretonnia rallied to their age old ally, the Targaryens. In doing so they betrayed their other friends, Stark, Baratheon, Frey and Lannister. Robert Baratheon made a point to the defeated by burning every trace of Bretonnian knowledge, culture and ideals in Westeros as a way of ultimately severing the two countries. That was why most did not know about the mystical land. Where most people thought there was ocean south on the south tip of Cape Kraken, was the start of the Blue Mountains. The roots of the Blue Mountains grew deep, and stretched higher than any could climb. They separated the lands of Westeros and Bretonnia. The Blue Mountains stretched for hundreds of leagues, past the Twins, Casterly Rock, and Highgarden. The Blue Mountains receded into the sea north of Oldtown, baring people trekking into the land from the south. "What other matters are there in the realm?"

"I have heard reports of strange lights and noises at night in the mires near Caen," Maestro Lupine answered. "The peasants have been seen to go in, but not out again."

"Baudouin, how would you handle this?" Charlemagne asked, turning to him.

"I'll be honest father, I know not what should be done." The heir answered, shrugging. Baudouin, like Albric, was a warrior, not a thinker. "Perhaps it is witchcraft?"

"Then we know who should deal with such a problem!" Louen piped up, much to the annoyance of the Grail Knights who disliked him. "Right, Grandmaster?"

"Right you are!" Victor Saltzpyre nodded, smiling at Louen. "My king. If you shall let me, I shall send some agents to sterilise the swamps and investigate whatever the mysterious lights and noises are."

"I am in ascent," Royarch Charlemagne nodded, stroking his beard. "Does anyone know why two chairs at the Table are empty?" Even though Louen occupied one of the chairs that the Royarch spoke of, he knew that his presence here was only temporary.

"I do, my lord." Albric answered, raising his hand. "Tael Duschane occupied one of the chairs, and now he sits in your dungeon!" Lord Gawain and the other Grail Knights laughed, even the Royarch couldn't help but smile. "But I do know of Lord de Montfort." The Grail Knights leaned in, curious as to what kept their friend. Not even the fields of battle would keep a knight from his seat at the Table. Simon de Montfort was like Albric d'Bordeleaux, they had served Royarch Charlemagne from a young age, and saw him not only as king, but friend.

"Where is Simon?" Charemagne asked, watching his friend's face. The man sighed, scratching his head. "Albric?"

"Tael did not act alone," Albric confessed. "A third the lords of Bretonnia have risen up in rebellion."

Rebellion. A word that many knew but few spoke of. You could count the number of rebellions in Bretonnia on one hand. Only one of them had ever been successful. Most who were not happy with things never rebelled, too fearful of the repercussions: excommunication, torture, and the extermination of their entire family. Royarch Charlemagne began to shake, his pale skin turning red. No matter what you came from: Westeros, Essos, Sothoryos, or Bretonnia, treason was the greatest offence one could make. Bretonnians took it much more seriously, because of how highly they valued honour and chivalry. The old king roared, throwing the papers in front of him on the floor as he paced the room furiously.

"How dare they betray me!" Charlemagne snarled. "I am their king. The protector of their lands, the one who gives them aid! Were it not for me they would be slaves for the Lannisto!" Despite slavery being forbidden in the Seven Kingdoms, the Lannisters would make an exemption for their age-old enemy, like the Royarch accused.

"The entire south, west and southeast regions are against us," Albric continued. "We must act, and fast!"

"You are correct!" Gawain nodded. "If Carcassonne has turned against us then that means that we have no way to reinforce the Bergentrückung!" Even Louen, a teenager knew what the Bergentrückung was. All the mountain passes that led into Bretonnia were fortified and patrolled by the Bretonnian knights. The Bergentrückung was the largest of all forts, housing hundreds of soldiers. However it was only a few leagues from Casterly Rock, the heart of the Lannister principality. Because of this the fortress was under constant siege, but her ancient and thick walls holding off every assault. The men inside were able to hold the Bergentrückung so well because they had a constant supply of food, medicine, soldiers and weapons from Carcassonne. Without that they would not last more than a month.

"I say we rally what forces we have and destroy these traitors!" one of the Grail Knights shouted. The other Knights hollered their support, smacking their fists on the table. The Fey was silent, soothing the enraged king. Baudouin seemed to be caught up in the excitement of the thought of war, and joined in the cries for blood.

"You cannot!" Louen protested. His cry was ignored by the Lords' cries for war and punishment of the traitors. "Lords, we must take caution!" They continued to ignore him. Maestro Lupine seemed to cover his ears, as if the noise pained his weary ears. Victor looked upon the prince's futile attempts to have his voice heard. Louen looked to his mentor, his voice strained from the effort of calling to them. Victor took a strange apparatus from his belt, covered his ear, and pulled the trigger. A deafening bang and ringing echoed through the tower, causing the raucous knights to groan and cover their ears. Many of them growled insults at the Witch Hunter, who shrugged as the noise faded.

"Apologies, my lord," Victor bowed to the Royarch. "There is much to discuss, and I deemed it necessary to silence the noise.

"By deafening us!" Baudouin grumbled, glaring at the Witch Hunter. "Say what you must then, and be gone!"

"Let the man speak, son," the Royarch grumbled. "However I shall be having words with you later about your methods, Victor."

"Of course," The Witch Hunter sat down. "Now, if I might be so wise as to let Louen have his say? I believe that there is something that the prince has observed that you clearly have not." All eyes turned to him. Louen was never comfortable being the centre of attention. Being in the spotlight made his stomach churn. For all his bravado, Louen was terrified deep down.

"Y-you can't fight," Louen managed to blurt out.

"Oh? And why not?" Sir Gawain scoffed.

"Because! Almost half of Bretonnia's armies have turned against each other. Even if you manage to slaughter them all, what will be left? A fraction of our men would still be alive. If the Lannisters attacked us then, we'd have no hope of surviving." Victor nodded, piecing together Louen's argument.

"What would you suggest?" Royarch Charlemagne hummed, leaning forward.

"Fight not a battle of swords and arrows, but a battle of attrition. Besiege their castles and starve them out. When their leaders come out to surrender, kill them and replace them with our own. Then add their soldiers to your army and end this rebellion!" Louen was almost panting as a rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins. Maester Lupine coughed, wanting to break the silence.

"There is no way to know if the men will betray us or not," Albric d'Bordeleaux shook his head. "I say we kill them all!"

"As do I," Gawain nodded, slamming his fist on the table.

"These aren't sheep or pigs you're talking about," the Fey Enchantress scolded. "These are people! Men who blindly follow their lord because they don't know better!" Voices rung out in the room as they Grail Knights and other members of the Table began to argue. Several wanted to execute them all. Others wanted to show mercy. Even the old Maester tried to voice his opinion, however his frail voice could not keep up with the younger men's shouting. Only Charlemagne seemed to keep out of it, who took a long drink from his glass of wine. Eventually the Royarch stood up, silencing all there.

"I thank you for your enthusiasm, but my decision is made," the old king announced. "You will only execute those who do not swear fealty to me. Kill the lords who betrayed me, and their families." The Knights of the Table seated themselves, angered at how their opinion had been dismissed.

"It will be done, my Royarch," Albric bowed his head. "However this might be hard for my army to accomplish alone. The castle cities of Myrmidens, Carcassonne, Lyonesse, Mousillon, Miragliano, Luccini, and Bourguile are all amongst those that have rebelled." Royarch Charlemagne nodded slowly, scratching his beard.

"Baudouin, you will take an army to join the crusade." Louen gasped, gaping. His brother was a general!?

"Yes, father," Baudouin nodded. "Beaquis will feast on their skulls!"

"I shall dedicate my men as well!" Lord Gawain proclaimed. "Each has sworn fealty to you, and now they shall know what it means to serve the Leoncoeurs!" The Royarch smiled, glad that these men were still loyal to him.

"Lords Gaheris and Percival, I want you to rally with General Moreau and work your way south via the eastern holds." Royarch Charlemagne instructed. "Lords Gawain and Baudouin will escort Albric to Bordeleaux where his fleets will blockade the cities on the coast. Your armies will starve them out via land." The respective Grail Knights nodded, placing their fists across their chest. "Prince Louen will take his men and destroy the Greyjoy fleet. You all leave at dawn. Dismissed!"

From the window of the White Palace, Louen could see the entire city. The lights of hundreds of furnaces lit up the dark. They had been glowing for days on end. The campaign that Royarch Charlemagne had ordered required days of work. Sharpening blades, tempering lances, nailing horseshoes, and polishing armour. Louen had eaten his fill, said his prayers and read an entire book. But for the life of him, sleep would not come. It was so quiet, the gentle breeze doing nothing to soften the sound of distant hammers on metal. The Deep Breath Before the Plunge, that's what many knights called the tense silence before combat. Louen had already been in one battle, and he didn't want to be in another. Waiting on the edge of one he couldn't escape was worse. Louen paced, his feet pattering on the marble floor. Louen was a knight, and prince of the realm. For his people he must fight. But deep down he was terrified. Louen never wanted to fight! Baudouin was the warrior while he was the scholar. Was the country in such peril that he would be sent out like this? Thoughts like this ran so loud in his head that Louen didn't even notice the figure enter his chamber.

"What troubles you?" the voice whispered. Louen gasped, spinning around.

"Leila!?" Louen jumped. "What're you doing here? How did the guards-"

"They let me in," she cooed, placing the candle carrier she held on the table by his bed. Leila wore nothing but a simple white gown, her long midnight hair rolling into the darkness. "You are troubled, my lord. What is wrong?" Louen sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Honestly? I'm terrified." The prince answered. "I've already been through one battle, and I don't want to do it again. This time, there are hundreds, of not thousands of people counting on me! If I fail then-" Leila put a finger to his lips, much to his surprise.

"Louen, you need not fear," the Damsel smiled, their bodies touching. "All your other friends, your brother, and the Witch Hunter have given you their gift after your knighthood. I have yet to endow you with mine." Louen's heart raced as her hands slipped into his. His cheeks burned red at the sight of this woman looking up at him with those emerald eyes. Her hands grabbed his neck and pulled his head down. Their lips met, and his world lit up. Minutes seemed to pass as they stood there in their kiss, feelings of love, fear, and excitement taking control.

"Leila?" Louen looked at her, his heart thumping in his chest.

"I give to you Louen," replied she. "I give to you what no other can ever have. I give to you the Maiden's Kiss." The Leoncoeur had not time to relpy before she was on his lips again. Louen's hands ran across her shoulders, catching every inch of her silk dress. Leila gasped as his hand traced the curve of her back, following the spine's bumps. Louen could feel her pushing against him, as if she were a ravenous wolf tearing into the prey. The duo fell onto the bed, wrapped in each other's exploring arms. Their hands touched, explored, every inch of their bodies was made to feel the other person. Their clothes gradually were lost to the floor, and they explored what they had always dreamed of. Her soft gentle breasts. His toned, hard chest. Leila cried when his hands went lower, where her legs met her torso. He was slow. Gentle. Leila was nervous and timid at first, wincing with each touch. The night stretched on as the two exchanged years of pent up feelings unto another.

The knock came at his door before the sun was up. Louen's eyes darted open, watching his squires shuffle in. The prince put a finger to his lips, urging them not to wake the sleeping Damsel. Louen turned to the sleeping Leila, her body lost in his embrace. Looking at her sent chills down his spine, remembering what had transpired the night before. Louen placed a kiss upon her head before letting the squires guide him to a separate room. They bathed him and let him eat before they dressed him in armour. Over a thick shirt and pantaloons they dressed Louen in a full-length hauberk and strapped him in great pieces of plate armour. Emblazoned on his chest was the sigil of House Leoncouer, the pegasus and griffin. The final touches to his gear were a wine red and royal blue cape, and a circlet of gold around his head. Louen took a deep sigh, as he looked hat himself in the mirror. He looked like a warrior, a champion of the people. Louen walked out towards the stables, his metal boots clanking against the stone floors. Maids and servants bowed as he passed, mumbling their prayers for him.

"My lord, the rest of your entourage is waiting for you at the military academy in the Outer Ring," a knight bowed slightly as the prince approached. "We shall join them there." Allura had been saddled and encased in armour. Metal plates were covered in thick padding decorated with the Leoncoeur sigil. A litter was being carried down towards the rest of the Upper Ring. Louen and his guards followed. Louen's breath was foggy as it came out, the fast pace clearly showing his fear. All he could think about was how dizzy he felt.

"The Lady will protect you!" A man shouted as they rode past. Louen was brought back to reality. The citizens of the Upper Ring lined the streets, laying flowers before the feet of their prince.

"Bring honour to us all," another said. The aristocrats and nobles applauded and prayed as Louen passed. The day after he was knighted, their prince was off to battle to defend the kingdom. In the eyes of the people, Louen must have looked like a champion, the paragon of Bretonnia. As they passed through to the Middle Ring, it was no different. The masses filled every window and alley to look at the prince. A swell of pride filled the young man's chest, and he held his head high. It was not long before the entourage met up with the marching horde of soldiers, who marched behind Louen and the litter. Shouts of encouragement and praise echoed just as loud as the metal boots of a thousand men. The metal gates of the Middle Ring lay open for the soldiers to march through. Louen always looked in awe at the incredible construction of walls so thick and high. Marching underneath them today was no different. A stones throw away from the gate was a stone fort, where Louen and the litters came to a stop. from them exited Estella, Royarch Charlemagne, and Grandmaster Victor. The armies that marched past were uncountable in size. Foot soldiers, archers, mounted knights, towering artillery. The most impressive sights were the legions of knights on pegasai and demigryph. Estella pointed at the beasts, shouting in excitement.

"I want to pat the demigriffin!" she cried.

"It is pronounced demigryph," Charlemagne corrected. "When you are older." Louen dismounted as he spotted his brother.

"Did you sleep soundly?" Louen asked.

"I heard that you did more than sleep," Baudouin winked. "A congratulations is in order, little brother." Louen blushed, shrugging. A raspy squawk alerted Louen to the beast that his brother held onto. A griffin that stood taller than any horse. Its body was pure muscle in the form of a feathered lion. Each of its talons had been sharpened and lined with steel. The griffon boasted huge plates of golden armour that took several men to lift.

"You have a…" Louen started, in awe.

"His name is Beaquis, the fury of the sky!" An appropriate name, for such a fearsome looking beast. "I tamed him a few months ago." Beaquis' eyes pierced Louen's soul, shaking him to the core. Louen felt himself drawn to the beast, as if it was trying to talk to him.

"May Beaquis always carry you to safety," Louen bowed. It was a traditional blessing amongst the Bretonnians who possessed a steed, no matter if it could fly or not.

"And may Allura be swift of wing!" Baudouin returned the gesture. Both brothers looked at each other sadly. They had rarely been separated, and now they were going to war. Baudouin wouldn't be able to protect his brother, and Louen couldn't watch his brother's back. The two princes crashed together in a hug, their chest plates clanking together. Baudouin squeezed Louen into his chest, like a limpet would a rock.

"I'm scared," Louen whispered, admitting his fears.

"I know," Baudouin replied. "But you're strong. You're smart and brave." They parted, still holding onto each other's elbows. "You're going to be alright. Just remember what I taught you about using a sword."

"Stick 'em with the pointy end!" Louen joked. Baudouin laughed as they parted so that he could hug his sister and father. He kept his goodbyes short, as he was needed at the front of the army. Beaquis shifted excitedly as his master mounted the beast, the plates clinking together.

"Remember today, little brother." Baudouin said, giving Louen one final look. "Today, life is good." Beaquis spread his mighty wings and leapt skywards. Dust flew in all directions as the griffin began his ascent. Baudouin Leoncoeur soared towards the direction the army marched, growing smaller by the second.

"My lord?" a knight in armour spoke up. "Your men await your direction." Thirty armoured knights and pegasi were waiting for him, sitting ready on their steads.

"I shall be one minute," Louen nodded. The prince approached his tearful sister, letting her run into his open arms.

"I don't want you to go," Estella mewled, tears rolling down her face. "I don't want you to-"

"Hey," Louen cooed, gently rocking her. "I shall be gone only a few days, a week at maximum." Louen gave her a tight, reassuring squeeze before moving onto his father.

"I expect that Greyjoy fleet to be scuppered," the Royarch grunted.

"Yes, mon Royarch," Louen nodded. "I live to serve."

"Try not to get yourself killed," Charlemagne grunted. "I've some use for you." The Royarch left him, returning to his litter.

"Not so much as a goodbye from your father as you go to war," Victor Saltzpyre sighed. "I apologise on his behalf."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," Louen shook his head, though he was resentful. Charlemagne had given Baudouin a full embrace and words of encouragement. Louen never received such things.

"You forgot this," Victor pushed his rapier into Louen's chest. "Not the usual weapon for you snooty knights, but it's a good blade!" Louen slapped Victor on the shoulder, returning to Allura and strapping it to her.

"Thank you, Grandmaster."

"And make a speech!" Victor shouted as he and the princess entered a litter. "A few words can rally an army!" Louen looked away for a second and they were gone. For the first time in his life, he was truly alone. Fear ebbed though Louen's body like poison.

"My lord?" the same knight from before queried. "We must be off."

"You are correct," Louen nodded, mounting Allura. The prince turned to the group of men that were to be his personal guard from this moment on. "Gentlemen! You were chosen for this mission because you are the best Bretonnia has to offer! Whom do you fight for?"

"For the Lady!" the knights chorused in unison.

"There are heathens who reave and rape our lands as we speak. Let's show them what Bretonnians are made of!"