The Prince of Leincrad paced about in his tent, the wooden platform that made up the floor below creaking a bit under every step. He made a mental note to order one of the servants to fetch a carpet for it later. For now though, Aidan had more important matters to concern himself with. He stopped pacing for a moment to slightly lift the edge of the tent flap aside, peeking outside. Encircling fences, lists and targets had all been properly set up for the coming tourney. Soon the knights would be arriving, with one of them due to be Aidan's protector for a long time to come.

"Such rubbish." he thought to himself. "If father is so concerned, he should let me travel with one of our finest royal guards. Sir Reynard or Balor Stonearm. Not some...pup of a knight picked out from the best of a litter."

Aidan sighed. He wondered if having a bodyguard would even be necessary if he was half as strong as his father was at this age. He shook away the thought. There was no point in moping over what could be now, only looking to make the best out of what he had.

"I just hope that what I have isn't a rabble of green men who were only recently elevated from squirehood."

The sound of hooves was soon picked up by the Prince's ears. It seemed the knights had arrived. He took a moment to adjust himself in the mirror, making sure he looked as refined and handsome as the heir to Leincrad ought to be. The hooves became thunderous as he exited his tent. He stepped towards the edge of the platform that overlooked the tourney field, with a small yet suitably regal-looking throne at the end. He sat down, looking over the assembled knights with his best forced smile as members of the royal court gathered around him.

"Greetings, knights of the realm! I, Prince Aidan Leinster, welcome you to the principal tourney. You have come this day to show your crown prince the valour, strength and honor that the finest young sirs of Leincard possess. I hope to not be disappointed!"

Aidan turned to one of the nearby magisters and nodded. The magister in turn raised his hand, ready to signal the musicians to blow their cornetts.

"Without further ado, let the tournament commence! May the best man win!"

And with that, the cornetts roared across the field, signaling the official start of the knightly tournament.

Lyn repressed a scoff as she listened to the prince’s welcome. She wondered how many of her fellow young knights were observant enough to see how duplicitous royalty could be. She knew some of them from the Leincrad Knights’ Academy, but many others were from neighboring kingdoms or smaller fiefdoms. None of them could have been over the age of 25, and she knew there would be some skilled fighters among them, but Lyn’s sword had seen more action than many of these young men ever had.

From his high platform, Prince Aidan was looking down at them in both the literal and figurative sense of the phrase. Lyn squared her shoulders. Prince Aidan probably didn’t know the name of a single young knight who had trained in the Academy next to the palace and also in the palace’s own courtyards for years while he grew up with his feathered pillows, plush carpeted halls, and servants attending to his every whim. She doubted he even knew that there were girls training to be knights at the Academy. It didn’t matter that he would someday be king and that he wasn’t the sort of person she wanted to associate herself with. None of that mattered, because Lyn was here to win the tourney and collect the winnings; then she would finally be off on her own, never to see Leincrad again.

Even though Lyn had been promoted from squirehood to knighthood several years ago, the maesters of the Leincrad Knights’ Academy had insisted she win a royal tourney before being allowed to travel under her own shield. It was a ridiculous requirement that they had created and imposed only upon her, even though she had been the best squire of her year. She knew they’d added the rule for her and her alone because she was a girl, and it was completely unfair that the rest of her peers had been allowed to leave immediately, while she’d had to wait for every new tournament to be held.

She’d competed in three Leincrad tournaments. Lyn lost her first one during the jousting round to a rookie mistake, and during the two after that, which were battle royale style, she’d been ganged up on by opponents who knew she was a girl and thought she didn’t belong on the battlefield.

This time, though, it was a classic, single combat advancement-style tourney. Lyn knew that she could rise to the top, and her maesters would all be in the stands to see her defeat the opposition.

After Prince Aidan announced the commencement of the tourney, Lyn and the other knights returned to their personal tents. Her first match would be against Sir Tyrragon of Clarendell.

She smiled to herself, realizing that many of these opponents and spectators didn’t know she was a girl, and probably couldn’t tell right away because she’d cropped her hair so that it barely came below her ears, for ease of combat. Perhaps they would actually fight normally, instead of being scared to hurt her or using unscrupulous tactics to beat her because they were personally offended by the fact that she was female.

Lyn prepared her blunted tourney sword herself, not having cared to bring along a page for such duties. When she was on her own out there in the wild world, she wouldn’t have someone to strap on her armor or carry her shield. She’d taken care of herself through all these past years, and she could do so no matter where she went.

The trumpets sounded outside as another match ended, and Lyn put on her helmet, adjusting the visor to her liking before she stepped outside.
“Sir Lyn of the Western Isles in combat against Sir Tyrragon of Clarendell!” the crier announced with a blast of trumpets on either side of him. Lyn and Tyrragon entered the arena, clasped forearms, and spread apart, swords drawn and ready.

“Commence combat!”

Lyn began by stepping slowly to the right, shifting her blade and analyzing her opponent’s response. He mirrored her, stepping to his left to stay directly across. Lyn smiled, knowing what she had to do.

She kept her eyes on his eyes, rather than his sword, and right before he stepped forward at her, his gaze shifted slightly. In that moment, Lyn darted forward and dodged his blow, delivering a hit of her own to his sword-wielding arm’s shoulder. After that, she knew she had the match won. Lyn made quick work of him and was declared the winner. As they moved her name up on the lists, she acknowledged the crowd, lifting her visor but not her helmet. One victory felt good, but it was not the time to get cocky. She still had to defeat everyone else she was matched up against; all the way through to the end.

Prince Aidan slunk into his throne and ordered one of his servants to fetch some wine, knowing that he was in for a long afternoon. He had attended tournaments before, enjoying some of the combat displays quite a bit. When he was younger, he used to wish that he could be like the mighty jousters or melee champions, powerful enough to topple a man off his horse or off his feet with a single blow.

But he felt no sense of nostalgia during this tourney. As he had worried, many of the knights were green. Some were good, but not as good as what the Prince was used to. The very first duel started off with one of the knights tripping and falling ontop of the other. A bad omen already. The ones that followed were better at least, but still nothing to admire.

"I can't trust my life with a knight who's only decent." Aidan thought as he watched over the tourney. Perhaps he would just have to convince his father that going with one of the royal guard would be a safer plan.

The crier announced the next duel as being between Sir Lyn of the Western Isles and Sir Tyrragon of Clarendell. The Prince recognized neither names, which he deemed unsurprising considering the state of the young rabble. What was surprising, however, was the performance of Sir Lyn.

The Western Isle Knight defeated his opponent in short order using a swift shoulder-strike following an equally quick dodge. It was enough to make Aidan pull himself up from his throne, his interest peaked by the Sir Lyn's thorough display of skill. As the Western Isle Knight secured their victory, the Prince offered a small smile. As Sir Lyn lifted his visor, Aidan noted that he looked perhaps younger than most of the other knights. Very interesting.

As the tourney progressed, Aidan paid little attention until it was Sir Lyn's turn again to duel. He adjusted his posture up while seated on his throne, taking a sip of wine as the trumpets bellowed once more.

Lyn was fairly confident for her next battle, until she stepped into the arena and saw just how large he was. She grimaced. Sir Vancel was a foot taller than her and twice as wide, so she would have to rely on speed and accuracy. If she had to go on the defensive, she’d be toast. There was no way her strength could hold back his sword—unless she got just the right amount of leverage.

The crier barked the commencement, and immediately, Sir Vancel lunged at Lyn, trying to throw her off guard. Lyn narrowed her eyes and kept her feet moving, and she danced away from his first swing, quickly thrusting her sword towards his knees. She only managed to tap Vancel’s armor, and the reach of his arm was longer than she thought. Right as she jumped away, he used the side of his body to bash into Lyn and knock her back.

Lyn stayed on her feet, but she tasted blood on her lip and instant soreness along her ribs, where Vancel had thrown his weight against her. She managed to stay calm, and feinted an upward strike, instead hitting Vancel in the back of one knee. He staggered for a moment, and Lyn took her chance to deliver a series of clanging blows. Vancel blocked a good many of them, though.

It came to a point where their sword hilts were locked, and the crowd watched with bated breath as Vancel forced his weight against Lyn until her knees began to buckle. She gritted her teeth and held her own for as long as she could, and then did the unexpected, stepping swiftly underneath their locked swords as she moved her arms in a sharp circular motion.

In an instant, Vancel’s sword was flung from his grasp and flew a good few paces away. He’d had all of his weight bearing forward upon Lyn, so he stumbled forward, and Lyn darted around him, using a well-aimed kick to finish bringing him all the way down.

She stood over him, sword pointed at his throat, and the trumpets announced her second victory.

The next duel was between Sir Lyn and Sir Vancel. The latter knight was remarkably large and had done decently well with his own fighting. Up against the skill of Sir Lyn, perhaps Aidan was due to watch the first proper duel of the tournament. He sipped his wine once more, grinning as the two knights came to face each other.

Sir Vancel was the first to strike, with Sir Lyn dodging easily as he had before. Sir Lyn misjudged the distance of his counter attack and earned a bash to the dirt for his trouble. Aidan watched as Sir Lyn cleverly staggered the larger foe, before attempting a barrage of swings and locking blades.

The Prince leaned forward in his throne, as did many others in the crowd, and began watching more intently than before. Then Sir Lyn broke the bladelock and used Sir Vancel's own weight to bring him down, kicking him as he stumbled and bringing his sword to the fallen giant's throat.

As the trumpets accompanied Sir Lyn's victory, Aidan couldn't help but chuckle. He was actually impressed now.

Lyn’s subsequent duels passed in a slightly painful blur until she was at last facing her final opponent: Sir Orenel, a knight who had graduated from the Knights’ Academy a few years before she did, and had fought impressively in each of his duels. Skilled though he was, Orenel had been a bully at the Academy, especially to her, because she was a girl and hadn’t grown past five feet seven inches: on the higher end of average for a maiden, but short compared to most male knights.

She was a little winded at this point, and she’d have bruises for days along her ribs, cramps in her leg muscles, and tension in her shoulders; but she didn’t care. Lyn knew by now that always having an ache or pain was something that came hand in hand with being a knight.

Lyn knew that Orenel would try to taunt her and get under her skin, to throw her off and gain himself the upper hand. If she didn’t focus, he could best her because of a few petty comments. She hadn’t come this far for nothing.

“Commence combat!”

Right away, Orenel spoke; loud enough for Lyn to hear, but not loud enough for the crowd to know what he was saying. “Look who it is. Little Emmy Emelyne, playing at swords still? I thought you’d realize by now that you’ve got a pair of tits under there. Or have you never had a man who wanted to touch them?”

Lyn took a deep breath and started watching his feet, ignoring the smirk that she could hear in his voice.

“Poor Emmy. Too weak to keep up with the men, not pretty enough to be a woman. I’m sure the local whorehouse would take you if you begged them, so long as you really are a woman between the legs.”

“Real men use their swords to fight. Words are the weapons of callow little boys,” she said calmly. Orenel’s wrist muscles were tightening, so she knew that he would soon make a move.

Lyn guessed correctly—Orenel surged towards her with a calculated strike, but she was ready, and blocked it smoothly. The next couple of minutes were a flurry of parries and blows and blocking, until they broke apart for a moment.

“I don’t know how they even let you into the Academy in the first place,” Orenel sneered, although sweat was glistening along his brow. “I bet you bedded the maesters to get in.”

“I wish you had learned something worthwhile during your time there. Guess you were too busy picking on first-year pages to learn what it means to be a true knight,” Lyn countered.

Orenel scoffed. “You say that as if you know better than I do. Look at you, not even worth enough to leave Leincrad with your own shield.”

“I’m leaving Leincrad tomorrow,” Lyn told him. “After I win this tourney.”

Orenel narrowed his eyes. “Not going to happen, Emmy.” He came at her again, slashing his sword in wild yet skillful strokes. Lyn blocked his advance and managed to whack the side of his face. The crowd cheered, and Orenel flung his helmet off in frustration, fighting the ringing in his ears. Lyn removed her helmet as well, evening the playing field.

Orenel attacked again, getting in close enough to drive his knee up into Lyn’s stomach while she fended off his blade—a dishonorable move, but not an illegal one. Lyn saw stars as she fought the pain that exploded in her ribs, and dropped to her knees, just barely managing to hold her sword up against the continual blows Orenel rained down upon her.

“Bet this is the only time you’ll ever see a woman on her knees,” Lyn taunted. Enraged, Orenel swung his sword back to deliver a forceful strike to the head; one that would surely cause lasting damage now that she had no helmet protection.

Orenel brought his sword back too far, and Lyn knew she had the advantage. She leapt forward, driving her shoulder against Orenel to push him back. As he fell, Orenel lost his grip on his sword, and Lyn rolled forward on the ground, jumping to her feet just in time to catch the blade in her left hand. She stood over Orenel, who had fallen on his arse in the dirt, and pointed both swords at him wordlessly. Lyn had won the final match of the tourney.

As the afternoon turned to evening, the tourney continued and so did the decisive victories of Sir Lyn. Aidan was quite impressed both his performance and that of Sir Orenel, who each ended up displaying a great deal of skill and talent despite being younger knights. The tourney was shaping up to be a much more successful endeavor than he originally believed. Sir Lyn and Sir Orenel were to face off against each other for the finale, with Aidan now fully intending to hire the victor.

The noise of the crowd, opening instruments and eventual steel-against-steel drowned out all other sounds. As the duel began, Aidan could swear he noticed an intensity to the movements of both knights that was absent during their previous matches. Perhaps they knew one another were rivals, or perhaps the two finalists simply knew to take each other more seriously than the amateurs they'd beaten earlier. Regardless it had Aidan hook on the match. He ignored everything else, leaning so far forward that he was literally on the edge of his throne.

The duel lasted longer than those prior, with several minutes of equally matched parries for every swing. The two knights broke off briefly, seemingly staring one another down before Sir Orenel lashed out and was met with a strong counter. Both knights took off their helms a moment later. The distance was too far for Aidan to distinguish much, especially with the frantic back-and-forth movement along with the darkening light of the evening looming over the tourney field now.

Aidan winced a little as Sir Orenel smashed his knee into the other knight's gut. A dirty trick, but a practical one. As Orenel brought his sword up high, ready to finish off his opponent, Lyn knocked over the other knight. He then picked up Orenel's disarmed sword along with his own, standing over his foe victorious.

The Prince smiled and lifted himself from his throne. He began clapping his hands, followed shortly by his attendant royal court and the rest of the crowd. Trumpets and cornetts joined the applause to flood the tourney field with the sounds of victory. As the musicians stopped and the crowd began to simmer, Aidan spoke.

"Congratulations, Sir Lyn of the Western Isles! You've undeniably proven yourself on this day to be the most valiant and skilled of any young man in all of Leincrad. Truly, a stellar example of what any boy wishing to be a knight should aspire to be like." he said, then lifted his wine glass up as though to toast. "And of course, such skill at arms will not go unrewarded! Once you've rested and tended to your wounds, my servant shall approach you with a hefty purse as a prize for your victory today. Oh and of course, there's to be a food banquet now that the tourney is over. All are invited, even the unvictorious!"

That earned a large pop from the crowd. Everyone could appreciate getting free food, especially when it also meant dining alongside the crown Prince. As the crowd made a ruckus and the tourney field was dissembled, Aidan lifted himself from his small throne and gestured over his manservant, walking with him aside.

"Javert, I wish for you to approach Sir Lyn with a bag of 5,000 florins...and tell him that he may earn 10,000 more if he is willing to serve as Prince Aidan Leinster's personal knight for a mission that bears great importance in ensuring the safety of Leincrad and its people. Tell him that he will have to escort me to Lyonsvarg, protecting me for what could be quite a long time."

Javert nodded and Aidan patted him on the back, smiling. The manservant produced a purse of many florins before heading off to find the young Sir Lyn, and give him the Prince's message.

Lyn was thoroughly exhausted, but she waited in her tent to receive the prize for winning the tourney. She wasn’t surprised to see a manservant walk through the tent flaps, rather than the prince himself. He was probably busy feasting on pheasant and red wines.

“I am Javert, personal manservant to Prince Aidan,” the man announced, holding forward a bulging purse. “Your winnings, Sir Lyn. 5,000 florins.”

Lyn accepted it graciously, wincing as she lifted her arm to take hold of the back. To his credit, Javert only seemed mildly surprised that she was a girl. Javert glanced back towards the tent’s entrance, and came a step closer.

“Sir Lyn, as the indisputable victor of today’s tourney, Prince Aidan believes that you have shown yourself to be highly capable, and wishes to extend you an offer for an additional opportunity to serve the crown.”

Lyn raised her eyebrows. “What sort of opportunity?”

“The sort that will pay another 10,000 florins.”

Lyn’s breath caught in her throat. She had to remind herself to keep breathing. 5,000 florins was a good start, but 10,000 would keep her comfortable for a while as she traveled, and she could purchase the new gear she desperately needed. “I’m listening.”

“Prince Aidan requires an escort to journey with him to Lyonsvarg for a matter that is both delicate and of great importance. As you know, the road to Lyonsvarg is not a short one; but the prince’s safe passage there and back again is much needed, and you would be honored not only in your monetary reward, but also by knowing that your assistance helped to ensure the safety of all Leincrad.”

Lyn carefully considered every word. It sounded like this was truly an important undertaking. But sending the Crown Prince all the way to Lyonsvarg with no more than a single, young, unknown bodyguard? It didn’t exactly make sense; not to mention that the last thing she wanted to do on her first day out of Leincrad was to babysit a royal pain. But, 10,000 florins was 10,000 florins…

“I’ll do it,” she said firmly. “Just let me know when we’ll be departing, and I’ll be at the palace. I’m not going to the celebratory feast, though; I’d rather get my rest. Hopefully His Highness understands my reasons for not celebrating tonight.”

Javert nodded. "Very well. I will inform His Highness of the good news. I would also advise an early rest for an early rise, as I fully expect His Highness wishes to set off in the morning." With that, the steward left Lyn's tent and headed back to the field, where a series of long tables covered with food and drink now rested where an arena had been set-up less than an hour ago.

Prince Aidan rested at the head of the largest table, helping himself to a rather simple meal of kale and salmon, with a cup of red wine on the side. The royal physician had approved said meal among others as being healthy for the Prince's weak heart. Aidan always had to be careful that whatever he ate and drank didn't risk worsening his condition. Red meats, pork, buttered bread and other typical indulgences for nobility were all off the table for him.

As Javert whispered him the news, Aidan was glad to hear that the Sir Lyn accepted his offer, but disappointed that he wasn't going to join the feast. A tourney feast without the tourney's victor attending was a queer thing, and Aidan had been looking forward to conversing with the young knight. Still, a minor inconvenience. They would have plenty of time to get acquainted along the road to Lyonsvarg.

Soon the feast ended, the sun vanished, the assembled peoples dispersed, and the Prince was taken back home to his palace in a carriage. He rested well and woke up in the morning with a spring to his step. Today would be the day that he would begin his first true duty for the Kingdom of Leincrad, to prove himself worthy of his future crown in the eyes of his father and the people. He was nervous for certain, but also certain that he could rise to the occasion. Perhaps the victory of Sir Lyn the day before had filled him with a renewed confidence.

The Prince got his personal items together, most importantly his heart medicine. The small white crystalline capsules contained a powder that would help stabilize him if his heart began pounding like a drum. Aidan took pride in being able to craft them himself, having learned some magical alchemy during his years studying in the castle. He picked up a small brewing kit, magic charms and spell materials along with several books. One was a favourite novel of his, a few others arcane tomes, and a pair of heavy encyclopedias on Lyonsvarg and Renado respectively. He would be studying those intimately during the travel.

The servants got the rest of his mundane needs packed and ready. They were loaded into a rather simple roofed wagon in the palace yard, rather than the usual royal carriage. Aidan had suggested using the wagon as it would attract far less attention from potential agents of Renado. The Prince stood next to it, waiting patiently for his companion Sir Lyn to arrive.

Lyn walked briskly towards the palace yard. She had been up before dawn to finally receive her shield from her grudgingly impressed maesters. It was a well-crafted circular metal piece with a Phoenix engraved in the center, and had been forged back when Lyn had graduated from the Academy—she just hadn’t been allowed to own it until now.

Her fancier, bulkier tournament armor was in storage at the Academy. Lyn wore a simple tunic and breeches underneath reinforced leather armor that was more lightweight and better for traveling long distances. Her shield was strapped to her back, and what few supplies she needed were fastened to a sack at her hip, on the opposite side of her sword in its sheath.

Lyn wondered what it would really be like, traveling with the prince for so long. What little she knew of the elusive young man was that he had never trained alongside the squires and pages; she’d never seen him lift a sword or ride alone on horseback. She wondered if the reason for his detachment was truly just due to his ego, or if there was another reason that he wasn’t as physically capable as a crown prince should usually be. He was probably rather intelligent, though; with all the time he spent crouched over dusty tomes and scrolls.

She rounded a corner and finally saw the covered wagon waiting there in the yard. A few stablemen scurried about, checking the wagon’s wheels and brushing off the steed that was fastened to its front. It was an unassuming mare; one that looked hardy, but didn’t seem to have come from the royal stables. Lyn raised her eyebrows. The plot thickened.

It didn’t matter, though. She’d accepted the job for the money and to get out of Leincrad; she didn’t much care what exactly Prince Aidan was setting out to do.

Lyn stopped a few feet away, seeing that the prince still hadn’t looked up at her. She hoped he hadn't been waiting long, and cleared her throat. “Lyn of the Western Isles, reporting for duty, my lord.”

Aidan was busy cross-checking the wagon's inventory when a mysterious voice stole his attention. Immediately his ears picked up something off with the speaker's words and the higher-pitched tone of their voice. The Prince snapped his head around to face Sir Lyn, who was wearing an outfit that revealed the true figure of her body. Her feminine face was also more clearly visible to Aidan, no longer muddled by the influence of dim lighting and wine.

He was frozen, staring at her in visible shock. After a moment, the Prince spoke. "Is this a joke?" he said, looking her up and down once more to make certain he was seeing things right. He had heard that the Knight's Academy was training a small handful of girls, but didn't think at all that Sir Lyn might be one one. He never would have thought one would be strong enough to win a tourney, certainly.

He looked around to make sure that the girl wasn't a squire or page, introducing the Prince to the actual Sir Lyn. Nobody else was visible, and she was carrying a knight's shield. "Oh my, this if for real, isn't it?"

Lyn bristled immediately upon hearing the tone of his voice. Her jaw tightened as he stared at her in shock, asking if her presence was a joke. Had he not known she was a girl? And now that he’d found out, did he think her a lesser knight because of her gender? “There is no joke, your highness,” she said stiffly. “I’m here in response to the job that was offered to me in your name and service. I was told that I was qualified to be your protector on this journey, and that you requested me personally."

She watched him silently, waiting to see if he really was so shaken up about the fact that she was female. If he sent her away, fine—Lyn would just accept that Leincrad would be going to the dogs once he was king, and be on her merry way. But she had a feeling that he needed to leave as soon as possible in order to complete his mission, and most of the other knights were already en route back to their scattered places of dwelling across the lands.

Aidan paused a moment again as Sir Lyn confirmed the reality of the situation. He looked at her face again, knowing it was the same that he'd seen the night before. He pursed his lips briefly, wondering if he should go through with it. Not doing so would be foolish however. Sir Lyn had proven herself decisively to be the strongest out of the young knights, the rest of whom were likely already scattered to the winds. And it was too late to make a change of plans and go with a knight of the Royal Guard instead, not to mention risky for obvious reasons. Heading to Lyonsvarg as soon as possible was the priority.

The Prince resigned to a sigh. "Very well, Sir Lyn. If you are ready to serve your Prince then, you may climb aboard the wagon and take the reins. Leave whatever items you desire in the back." With that, Aidan turned away and climbed into the back of the roofed wagon, grumbling slightly. Being unable to fight for himself was bad enough, but if anyone ever learned that he had a girl be his bodyguard, the Prince could very well become a laughing stock among the merciless, back-talking nobility.

Lyn waited as Prince Aidan climbed into the back of the wagon, and then stepped up onto the wooden seat-box herself. With few possessions, she simply set her sack on the seat beside her and clucked to the horse, taking the reins firmly but gently. The palace gates opened, and Lyn steered the wagon across the drawbridge, trotting it through Leincrad at a speed that was not too suspiciously fast.

She secretly hoped that they would run over a pothole or two, and that the wagon would jostle his Highness uncomfortably; but the road was smooth through the city. It wasn’t long before they passed the outskirts and began into the nearest forest. Lyn enjoyed the change of scenery, and wasn’t worried about getting lost because the road to Lyonsvarg was long, but direct. She set the horse to a more brisk pace than the one they'd used within the city walls, because there was no one around to wonder at her hurried departure.

Lyn wondered just why Prince Aidan had appeared to so quickly resent her presence. She was used to people treating her differently because she was a female knight; but it had seemed like he was personally offended by her presence. Perhaps his self-confidence was wounded because he was being escorted by a girl.

They had been traveling for nearly four hours, so Lyn addressed the prince. “My lord, I’d like to give the horse a moment’s rest. You’re welcome to stretch your legs if you wish. Also, do you wish me to call you ‘my lord’, or is there another name I should use while we travel anonymously?”

Prince Aidan slunk against a cushion in the back of the wagon. He sighed once more before reaching towards the satchel containing his belongings and withdrawing a large book entitled Lyonsvarg: From Copper Tribes to the New Century. He kept his nose in the encyclopedia for the next few hours, trying to do his best to forget his current predicament. Occasionally he looked out to the back of the wagon, watching the Royal Palace shrink away into the horizon. It was rare for him to venture so far outside of the capital, let alone Leincrad, and was looking forward to seeing new scenery at least.

He also occasionally stared the other way briefly - taking looks at his new companion. Aidan was surprised that he hadn't realized Sir Lyn was female. She had a face too soft for most male warriors to possess, and quite lovely red hair too...the Prince shook away that train of thought, turning back to his book swiftly.

As she spoke for the first time in hours however, the Prince turned back to his companion. "I would prefer to remain inside. And for titles - my Lord, my Prince, and your Highness would all be acceptable. Don't refer to me by any of those titles or my names when others are around though. My name then will be Erik Gwent, a courtier from the Western Isles."

“As you wish, my Prince.” Lyn waited until his attention was diverted from her, then she made a face and rolled her eyes.

Having gotten that out of her system, Lyn hopped down off the wagon and watered the horse, adjusting the bridle to be more comfortable.
No sooner had she done that than a couple of twigs snapped in the nearby foliage. Suddenly alert, Lyn eased her sword from its scabbard quietly, so as not to alarm the prince. After all, it could be a small wild animal just passing through. She kept an eye on the wagon and swept the perimeter, ensuring that there was no one lurking in the shadows.

Lyn didn’t find anyone in the immediate area, but she didn’t see any small animals, either; and couldn't stray too far from the prince to search through the trees. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she informed the prince that they would be moving again, and took up the rains. If bandits or other ne’er-do-wells were following them, they would be less likely to attack this early in the morning, before noon. Still, she had to keep a more watchful eye as they approached the nearest outlying village for an afternoon repast. If all went well, they should be arriving there around two in the afternoon.

Aidan nodded his head before turning his attention back to his book. He was currently reading a section on how courtesy, greetings and other formal functions differed in the Kingdom of Lyonsvarg. While similar to Leincrad in many regards, Lyonsvarg's culture was more traditionalist. The factions of nobility referred to themselves under the term "Clan" rather than "House", hearkening back to older times. Many disputes were also still resolved through duels or combats between the members of feuding families. Dialects and customs varied heavily between different regions of the Kingdom, which itself was held together from fracturing by the strong leadership of its king. Prince Aidan knew that the current King Tamwyn had been a Duke before, having risen to the throne through competence in battle and earning the respect of his peers rather than due to blood inheritance.

He wondered how most people in Lyonsvarg would react to Sir Lyn. Seeing a female knight was no longer like sighting a unicorn in Leincrad at least, but in Lyonsvarg it could be quite the sight. As the Prince wondered that though, said companion returned to the wagon and alerted him that they would need to star moving again. Aidan nodded his head as Lyn started the wagon off once more.

As they traveled, Aidan paid more attentions to his surroundings than his book. He also gave more glances over to Sir Lyn. Eventually he spoke up. "And what of you, Lyn? Would you prefer the title Sir, or my Lady?" The Prince was unsure what to call a lady knight, having never encountered one before truly.

Lyn was slightly taken aback by Prince Aidan’s politeness. She thought she’d figured out his character; but he seemed to genuinely want to know what title he should address her by.

“I’m no lady of court, my Lord,” Lyn said after a moment. “Sir is fine. Or… Perhaps even just Em—I mean, Lyn, if you desire.” Lyn felt a hint of warmth rising to her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she’d almost just told him to call her by her given name. Emelyne was a delicate name she would have been more suited to if she had become a harpsichord player or a seamstress. She much preferred Lyn; especially after the overtly feminine nicknames she’d been given by the likes of Sir Orenel back when she was a child.

“Sire, have you ever been to Lyonsvarg?” she asked after another few minutes of quiet traveling. She had no idea what to expect of the kingdom, and knew only that some of their customs were more traditional than those of Leincrad.

Aidan raised his brow as he noticed Sir Lyn stammer, her cheeks turning a brief tint of red. "Very well, Lyn." He wondered what had caused the oddity in the knight's behavior. Perhaps she was feeling flattered by the Prince, or there was something sensitive about the name she almost spoke. He swapped between looking at his book and looking at Sir Lyn for the next few minutes until she spoke again, asking about Lyonsvarg.

"No, I've never strayed outside of my father's Kingdom before." he replied. "I've heard that it has miserable weather much of the year - rainy and cold. Not exactly qualities I enjoy. It's a rich enough in resources though to have homed countless fiefdoms, tribes and principalities over the years, of course. The current kingdom established by King Tamwyn is said to be fairly stable, though not nearly as centralized as Leincrad. Or as safe, from what I hear. There's not many roads besides the one we're on that lead to Lyonsvarg's heart, much of the land being wracked with wilderness. Banditry is more common than in Leincrad too, as they don't have a Knight's Academy to help curb such an issue. I do hear that the regular folk are good company though - eager to drink and make festivities. The nobles are said to be a bit more tricksy and bloodthirsty, always at one another's throats over something unless there's a strong king to keep them in line."

He looked over to her. "What of you, Lyn? Have you been there yet?"

Lyn gazed out at the sunlight filtering between the tops of the trees in the midmorning air, thinking about Prince Aidan's description of Lyonsvarg. “No, my Lord; I have not yet been to Lyonsvarg. There seemed to be little sense in traveling the lands as a squire without the rights to my own shield. Honestly, I haven’t ever strayed far from Leincrad. I spent the past few years competing in tournaments, but I didn’t win one and receive my shield until yesterday.” She smiled ruefully. “The rule that a tournament must be won for a graduate to be awarded their shield most likely sounds unfamiliar, because I am the only Academy graduate that rule has been applied to in all its history,” she told him. “Perhaps, as the first female to last through all the years of training and pass the final Ordeal of Knighthood, the maesters felt that I needed an additional test of worthiness. So I was an unofficial knight for the past three years. I hope you don’t think me to be complaining, sire,” Lyn added. “I just wanted to explain why I haven’t done very much traveling before now. But rest assured that I am fully capable of this task of escorting you.”

She glanced beside her at the map half-open within her sack. From what she could tell, they would soon be arriving at the nearest village.