CHAPTER 7: "A Grain of Truth"
ARI
Ari had never had a bedroom. She had a hard wooden floor that she had shared with the others that Raster owned. Even when Sir Oliver had bought her, she slept on a soft pad of grass every night they camped along the way to Nightingshire. Now, as Prince Richard showed her to her room, telling her that this before her was her bed, her room, Ari struggled to believe it.
The room was spacious, too, one Ari would guess to be a chamber for a lord. There were several paintings of wealthy men lining the tower hall. Most of the men in the oil paintings looked quite austere, but one made Ari chuckle a little. He, instead, had quite flamboyant hair and a wry smile.
"I see Lord Severin of House Velvet has caught your attention," Prince Richard said.
Ari blushed. "He funny."
"He liked to gossip, I heard. He was advisor to my grandfather. The life of all their parties, and, according to my grandfather, a true friend."
Ari came to a sad epiphany. "I have no friend," she said.
Prince Richard put a hand on her shoulder. "I can be your friend, Jason."
The only thing harder to grasp than this room was that she was no longer Ari, but Jason.
"I have bed never," Ari said softly.
"You've never had a bed before, you mean?" Prince Richard assumed. He sighed with what sounded like empathy. "I am sorry for what they have done to you, Jason."
"Why you sorry?"
"Because all your life, you have been told you are a commodity," Prince Richard said. "But you are a person."
"Commodity?" Ari asked.
Prince Richard answered, "Oh, yes, it's like... an object. A thing. You are not a thing. You are a boy, though your hair is pretty long for a boy's. Maybe we can arrange to have some of the Sisters cut your hair."
"I like that," Ari smiled.
"You would like that," Prince Richard corrected. "And we can begin your lessons in the Native tongue tomorrow. For now, I think you could use your rest, so I'll leave you to it."
Prince Richard left the chamber, smiling as he closed the door. "Good night, Jason," he said, closing the door.
Ari decided she liked the Prince. "Good night, Prince Richard," she said to herself.
SIR OLIVER
Sir Oliver was returning from the stable after gathering some of his supplies from Xena's saddlebag. On the winding stairs to the Guest's Tower, he passed by Sir Galen, who was trying to make conversation. There were few things that Sir Oliver hated more than meaningless conversation.
"The mighty Sir Oliver," the skinny, pale knight said. "I have heard so many ballads about you."
"Hopefully by someone who sang them in tune," Sir Oliver attempted to joke. It was hard to hide that he was in no mood.
"More or less," Galen said. "The most fascinating had to be the story of the Three Princesses."
Sir Oliver tried not to roll his eyes, breaking eye contact and trying to find something else to take his gaze. He too had heard that ballad, and was aware of the embarrassing amount of truth to it.
"Quite the romantic, Sir Oliver," Sir Galen japed. "Three noble women all succumbed to your charms at the same time."
Sir Oliver wanted to crawl out of his skin. "Not every legend has a grain of truth to it," he lied. "And, if you knew a thing about me, you'd know that one woman succumbing to my charms is fable, let alone three."
Sir Galen smirked. "Ah, but you've proven one rumor to be very true. Your love for the dark peoples."
Sir Oliver went from annoyed to angry.
Sir Galen responded to his grimace, "There is nothing to be ashamed of, Sir Oliver. I do not hold the pompous ways of thinking that most men do. But I must warn you. Watch your back, because not everyone in Nightingshire will be as... understanding of your affinities as I am."
With that Sir Galen descended the spiral staircase. Sir Oliver glared at him until he was out of sight, then returned to his ascension hastily.
SIR GALEN
The frogs in the moat chirped as Sir Galen near silently paced by them. No one ever really seemed to hear him walk. Sir Galen, at times, wondered if he himself was a ghost. It seemed like only a few people were out tonight, anyway, so detection would be minimal. At most, it would have been Sir Frederic at the gates, who would have simply given a slight bow as Galen walked by.
Once outside the castle and into town, Galen knew where to go to be alone. Just past the church and the marketplace, there was a graveyard where many of the men who died in the battles of years past were buried. That graveyard rarely had any visitors, especially not so late at night. That is why Galen always arranged to meet his spies out here.
Sir Galen waited and waited in the crypt for what may have been a half an hour. While the graveyard was full of soldiers, the crypt was housed by the corpses of former lords and ladies of Nightingshire. Galen was reading some of the names on the tombstones to pass the time when he heard the pitter-patter of one of his spies echo down the hall.
"You are late," Sir Galen said to a hooded figure in the shadows.
"Might you have a mission for me?" the spy responded, cutting to the chase.
Sir Galen said, "The new knight in the kingdom, the one hunting the dragon, Sir Oliver."
"What would you like to know about this Sir Oliver?" the spy asked.
"I would like to know why he has a slave girl pretending to be his squire," Sir Galen answered. The security of Nightingshire often depended on Sir Galen asking the right questions. "I would like to know what his intentions are."
"The information you seek will come to you once it is revealed," the spy promised, and with that, there was a pitter-patter out of the crypt.
Sir Galen thought he would remain there for a while. Something about dead royals gave him peace.
