SIR OLIVER

Sir Oliver and Ari awaited their host, more importantly, his next employer. They stood in the dead center of the hall, surrounded by knights and robed advisors.

More of the women in blue head-scarves populated this room as well. There was an air of mystery to them that Sir Oliver found enthralling. They stared at him, a few smiling, a few scowling, speaking to each other in a low hum. It was almost the only sound in the vast hall besides the occasional rattle of armor and swords from the knights. Sir Oliver wondered who these women were. In all his travels, he had only ever met one woman who wore a head scarf. It still pained him to think of... Don't speak her name, he told himself. If Osha was good, that woman was dead. She was dead to him.

Sir Oliver had heard little about Lord Gerard Youngblood of Nightingshire, only that he inherited the throne from his father, Dane, who was very well-liked by his people. The castle's finery reflected the Youngblood wealth. Everything in the throne room, including the throne itself, seemed to glimmer.

One of the guards coughed and it echoed erratically throughout the marble hall. Sir Oliver tried not to chuckle. Ari, through pursed lips, did.

"One way to end the awkward silence, I suppose," he joked to her.

"Awkward?" Ari asked, smiling. She looked around, taking in the quiet and with confidence said, "Awkward. My people call it 'vona.'"

Sir Oliver smiled and quietly sighed, "Well this is very 'vona' indeed." He wanted to ease the tension in the room. He got the impression that not many in Lord Gerard's court really cared for him much. The scowls gave that away. There was an unspoken distrust of magic folk, so even though the Order of Cambria often protected the realms of men from catastrophe, they distrusted the Order's reliance on Osha. Men always fear what they do not understand, Sir Oliver remarked.

To try and cut the tension, he said louder, "Might you have a jester in Nightingshire?"

None of the court answered. A few of the knights made direct eye contact with Sir Oliver, each with a different shade of grimace.

"Something to pass the time, perhaps?" Sir Oliver tried again. "Riddles? Like you any riddles?"

The knight with the harshest stare, a stark, thickly-browed man, answered plainly, "No."

"What happened to the jester? Did the dragon not care for his humor?" Sir Oliver joked.

The stark captain did not care for Sir Oliver's humor.

"Awkward," Ari commented.

"Vona," Sir Oliver replied.

Sir Oliver's eyes had been darting around for a good twenty minutes, trying to appear engaged, when, in truth, he grew tiresomely bored waiting. Ari was taking in the wonder. She seemed to be enthralled by this new world she had entered.

A young man by the throne seemed to be enthralled by Ari as well. This concerned Sir Oliver. The young man was tall and bony, bright, blonde hair trimmed and combed away from his face, which gave Ari a playful smile. She smiled back, unable to hide an obvious attraction.

Sir Oliver, nervous, leaned in to whisper, "You should not be flirting with boys, Jason."

"Flirting?" she asked.

"Jason," Sir Oliver stressed again. He was beginning to worry that his plan to disguise her was not working.

The young man's eyes trailed away from Ari as a door creaked open from the left of Sir Oliver. A knight clanked through, followed by a short man in a sea blue robe. The man smiled at Sir Oliver, and Sir Oliver knew this had to be his host.

"Sir Oliver Boumgarden," he said, extending a hand to him. "How we have long awaited your arrival."

"Likewise," Sir Oliver said, shaking Lord Gerard's hand.

"Might I have a seat?" Lord Gerard asked, as if Sir Oliver's permission held weight. Sir Oliver nodded anyway.

The Lord sat down on his golden throne and crossed his ankles. "So, the mighty knight has come to slay the dragon."

"Let us hope so," Sir Oliver responded. "This is my squire, Jason. If I may be so bold as to ask, my hope is to have him learned by one of your teachers."

"Your... squire, huh?" Lord Gerard confirmed. At this point, Sir Oliver hoped the man was racist, only because it meant his tone was not due to Ari being a girl. Bias was better than suspicion for the moment. Gerard asked her, "Where are you from, Jason?"

"I no not know," Ari answered, playing the part well. She even seemed to be speaking with the most bass her voice could muster. Sir Oliver was a tad proud of his little liar. "The sea."

"By the sea," Sir Oliver corrected. "That is why education makes a word of a difference." He winked at the stoic captain who scolded him earlier, still scolding.

Lord Gerard laughed though, "And you are indeed quite witty, my good knight. When do you plan to execute the beast?"

Sir Oliver turned back to his new employer. "I take it that the Order has sent an eagle to deliver my weapons and armor. When it arrives, I will begin my quest."

"You might indeed want to check the aviary to see if it already arrived," Lord Gerard said. "If an eagle came through, my men would most likely remember. As for your squire, I will have him learned by my son, Richard."

The boy that seemed to be flirting with Ari stepped forward, smiling at her again. Fantastic, Sir Oliver remarked. The one who already sees through our facade.

"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance," Richard said a high, soothing voice. "Sir Oliver. Jason. I look forward to teaching you everything under the sun."

"Is there no teacher for him?" Sir Oliver asked, desperate for alternatives. "A master?"

"No one smarter than this lad," Gerard said proudly. "My boy is the smartest young man in Cambria. Read more books than there are books to read. He will be a fine teacher for young Jason. And as for Jason's skills in combat, I have an excellent swordsman who might help with that as well."

A thin, pale man in a black tunic stepped out from behind a few of the knights. Sir Oliver had been peeking around the throne room for a while, and had never noticed the man. He was easy to miss, and, in all honesty, did not look like much of a swordsman, despite the thin blade that was sheathed on his hip. He looked weak, sick.

"Sir Oliver," Lord Gerard said, "it is my honor to introduce to you my most trusted advisor, Sir Galen Heimhal, of Bald Mountain. Galen, in his day, won three fencing tournaments. He has since sharpened his mind as well as his sword, and served as my hand since before my son was born."

Galen, with a voice deep as thunder, said, "An honor, Sir Oliver. Jason..."

His inflection bothered Sir Oliver. He too might have seen through the disguise. I am beginning to think this was a horrible idea.

"Sir Galen," Oliver replied.

"Sir Galen," Ari repeated, bowing her head a little.

"What a merry day this is," Lord Gerard giddily said. "I will have Prince Richard show you to your tower. If any accommodations have not been met, please do inform me. I will have only the best for my guests."

"That sounds lovely," Sir Oliver said, with a sigh of relief. At least the Lord is a fool enough to believe in 'Jason.'

Prince Richard came down from the stage to shake Ari's hand. "This way, good sirs," he said. Sir Oliver noticed that the Prince still had too big of a smile, and it worried him.

Sir Oliver and Ari followed the Prince out of the throne room.