Sir Sawyer Hayworth

At Hathforth Palace, shortly after his return from the Athius voyage



XV: Thunderclouds


Sir Hayworth paced nervously around his room, a rather spacious accommodation, which the Queen had arranged for him as thanks for his help. Their voyage to Athius was... an eye-opener, to say the least. The old knight put a hand to his chin. Who knew yet another race of people lived in the depths? The thought had been running circles in his head. He clutched the necklace that one of them had given him. Exhaustion had taken him over on their way back, and he hadn't the energy to take it off. Until now. He unlatched it, and set it aside on his bedside table. It was a homely thing, the necklace: throughout the string's length was an assortment of cutely-arranged shells, no doubt the result of someone's painstaking effort. Sir Hayworth could tell a handmade gift from a store-bought one, and the necklace was definitely handmade.

His thoughts circled back to the duchess, who he had not seen in days.

Rarely did he have to rack himself in worry over the duchess' safety, given her capabilities as a fighter, but at present, an ambiguous feeling was gnawing at him. Sir Hayworth hadn't yet sorted out if it was a positive one or not.

Just what was she doing all this time? Even the duchess did not confide in him what she had planned, sending him off to Athius. It was initially decided that she would be the one accompanying the Wizard Queen, as per the monarch's letter. Alas, Sir Hayworth knew well that the duchess' mind vacillated like the waves at sea. Those initial plans changed, and Sir Hayworth was dispatched to help with the voyage in her stead, completely unaware of what his liege would be doing in the meantime. He recollected her recent private dealings with Duke Rhinecliff. Perhaps their union was now... official? Sir Hayworth could only hazard a guess. He pursed his lips in rumination. The duchess had a habit of... "towing the line" regarding where her allegiances lie. That sort of lukewarmness afforded her some protection against the Queen's antics. But one can only walk the tightrope for so long. Had the duchess finally jumped off it?

When the question crossed his mind, he heard a knock at the door. "Yes?" He called out.

A maid had informed him of a summons from the Queen. "Ah, I see." He would thank her briefly, before raising himself up from his chair and leaving his room with all haste.

It didn't take long before Sir Hayworth found himself face to face with the monarch. He was never one to meander to his destination, after all, especially when it came to urgent matters such as this. Once he entered the throne room, and the gilded doors shut, he bowed before her, as was customary, and a standard greeting escaped his lips. "How may I serve you, Your Majesty?"