A few hours and two short breaks later, Alden and Tom stopped by a creek for lunch and a bask in the midday sun. Their horses eagerly slurped up the clear water. They had travelled about half the distance to the ring of mountains encircling Monterayne, indicated by the shift from grassy meadows in abundance to greater tree cover and groves full of saplings rustling in the wind. Alden predicted they would be at the base of the mountains by nightfall. 

While Alden munched on bread and dried meat, seated comfortably on a mossy boulder, Tom stood in a clearing and practiced his drills. The gleaming blade of his longsword whistled through the air as he performed imaginary strikes, shifted into guard positions, and from there executed other maneuvers. 

Up, left, down, he thought as he practiced one particular sequence. Those three words cycled in his mind as he repeated the moves over and over again, etching them into his muscle memory. 

"You have been hard at that for some time." Alden called from his seat. 

Tom paused for a moment before turning to face his grandfather. "And I sense you have some objection with that?" 

"We are paused here to eat, Thomas. You should strengthen yourself." 

"I already told you, Grandfather, I feel fine! I much prefer eating on the go, anyway." 

Alden shook his head. "I am afraid that sword of yours leaves the scabbard far too often." 

"And you would have it otherwise?" Tom asked as he stepped closer. 

"In fact, I would. In my view, the scabbard is far superior to the sword in all respects." 

"How so?" 

"Never has a scabbard killed a man, only the blade that issues from it. It is a symbol of peace, and of civility." 

Tom shrugged. "And yet, never has a scabbard saved a man's life, either. Neither has one ever ended the tyranny of a madman or warded off an assassin's blade." 

"There are other ways." 

"Oh, are there? Like what? Archery? The ways of cowards who would much rather strike from afar than handle their business like real men?" 

Alden huffed. "Do not speak so disrespectfully of men of the bow. Do you not realize our king himself is an enthusiast of their arts?" 

"Call it art if you will, but I much prefer painting with a brush to splattering pigment upon canvas from an easy chair. Now, excuse me while I practice my brush strokes." 

Tom heard his grandfather sigh behind him as he returned to his former stance and continued his drills. He reveled in the sound of the sharpened blade slicing through the air. But then a thought occurred to him, so he turned back to Alden. 

"Grandfather, if we do run across trouble as we escort Senator Delquez, what then will be your response?" 

"I am unclear on what you mean by 'trouble'." 

Tom chuckled. "Bandits, let's say." 

"Why, I will unsheathe my sword and attempt to warn them off. If it comes to blows, only then shall my blade taste flesh." 

"Ah, so you do still have some fighter in you." 

Alden shrugged. "Of course I do, or else I would not be a knight of forty years and counting. I was once like you, Thomas, but I have since learned to temper my impulses." 

"Oh, believe me, Grandfather, there's nothing impulsive about my desire to be a protector of the helpless and defender of the weak. I merely approach the matter more actively than you." 

"In time, you shall come to see a serenity that makes the hand reluctant to take up the blade." 

Tom's lips tightened. "I pray I never do." 

**** 

Five days later, Tom kissed Exuberance's snout before stepping out of the stall and shutting its door. After thanking the stable boy for his helpfulness, he hurried to catch up with Alden, who was almost out the door. 

As they stepped out into the midday sun, Tom glanced over a long brick building stretching out before them, the mansion belonging to Senator Alice Delquez of the Alcontean Republic. Glass windows lined the residence, a sign of great affluence. Even King Maxwell Alder of Monterayne himself possessed very few windows with the material, declaring it entirely vain. The only glass allowed in his castle were a handful of stained glass mosaics portraying various historical events and honoring his illustrious ancestors. 

"May you not fail to bring your etiquette to remembrance, Thomas." Alden said, snatching him from his thoughtful examination of their destination, "If maintaining proper bearing proves so very important in our own sovereign's walls, all the more so when we stand on foreign soil." 

Tom nodded. "I understand. I'll be no cause for embarrassment." 

"And please don't forget that Alcontean kissing customs vary somewhat from our own." 

"How so?" 

Alden chuckled. "She will kiss your cheek upon seeing you, but please don't think anything by it. It is only a greeting." 

"You take the fun out of everything." Tom remarked with a smirk. 

"Perhaps that is another curse of old age." 

Sharing a moment of laughter, the two continued the rest of the way to the front porch. They stepped up to the entrance, a stately cedar door with a shiny brass knocker. Fashioned into the shape of a wolf gnawing a bone, the device drew a smile to Tom's face. 

Alden knocked the brass bone into the door three times before stepping back to wait. Tom glanced at him, noting the way his indigo shoulder patches glittered in the sunlight. Representative of the Torlenian style of swordsmanship, Tom remarked inwardly how fitting the discipline was for this particular practitioner. Minimalistic and unassuming it was, conducive to pacifistic men who preferred rather to tire the enemy out than to slay them outright. Focusing on developing an impenetrable defense, the style certainly kept its adherents alive through many battles. 

But it also ironically prolongs conflict. Tom thought, For all its pacifistic merits, what a drawback that is. 

Finally, the door swung open before them, and a smiling servant impeccably groomed and dressed stepped out. He folded his hands and bowed his head slightly upon meeting the knights' gazes. 

"Good afternoon, sirs." the man said, "I assume you're the Monteraynian knights Lady Delquez requested?" 

Alden nodded and pulled his lips into a thin-lined grin. "That we are." 

"Well, in that case, come right in!" 

The servant stepped aside and beckoned the men inside. Alden patted the man's shoulder before craning his neck through the doorway. After his eye darted around the dim entrance chamber, his body followed his head through, Tom close behind. 

After the two knights had stepped through, followed by the dapper servant, the door closed behind them. Without the sunlight from outside pouring in, the entrance chamber plunged into darkness. Tom gulped and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. This isn't some sort of sick trap, is it? 

Then another door creaked open, and the warm light from a hallway lined with candlesticks seeped into the chamber, revealing a tall, armored figure. Black plates of metal encased the masculine form, complete with a helmet resembling a hood. The wearer's face remained enshrouded in darkness within the depths of the head covering, even despite the light in the hallway. 

"Guistan Protenez." the man said, stepping forward and reaching out a gauntlet to Alden, "Head of security." 

Alden shook the armored hand. "I am Alden Holt, and I am pleased to meet you." 

"Follow me." 

Tom exchanged a glance with his grandfather and shrugged. Then the two followed the black-clad guard down the adjoining hallway. The scent of lavender perfume hit Tom's nose immediately upon entering the corridor, transporting his mind to thoughts of one woman in particular. His mother. 

He blinked hard and swallowed with difficulty through his tightening throat. The last time he'd seen his mother and smelled her signature aroma, it'd been eight years ago. His last goodbye before she and his father had went into exile. 

Robert Holt had slain a man. In cold blood, Alden had assured Tom, but the twelve-year old boy he'd been at the time refused to listen to more details. He had, however, accompanied his mother to the ceremony for his father's dishonorable discharge. Tears had streamed down Alden's face as he'd ripped the purple patches from Robert's shoulders. Shattering his own son's sword over a boulder with a blow from a massive hammer had clearly broken the old man's heart. 

And then Robert and his wife had departed. Tom's mother had done her best to comfort him that morning while the horses were prepared for the ride into exile. She must have embraced him a hundred times, showered him with kisses too, and even that hadn't been enough. In ten years, she'd assured him, they could return, and in the meantime, Alden would take good care of him. 

Tom drew in a deep breath and re-centered himself in the current moment, strolling down a hallway in the mansion of an Alcontean senator. He attempted to ignore the scent that reminded him so much of his mother, an innocent woman whisked away by her husband's temper. He felt an unbidden tear roll from the corner of his eye, and he immediately wiped it away with a rough-skinned finger. 

Finally, Guistan guided the two knights into a well-furnished sitting room, where three armchairs in particular appeared highlighted by their proximity to a massive window. At the black-armored guard's command, Alden and Tom removed their scabbards from their belts, allowing themselves to sit down in two of the chairs. The sheathed weapons lay on the floor between the furniture pieces. 

"I'll get her." Guistan said, and in an instant, he was thumping his way up the stairway around the corner. 

After a brief glance at his pensive grandfather, Tom stared out the window, a rare experience for the young knight. To think that he could see perfectly clear to the outdoors beyond, yet also be shielded by a pane of solid material, it was difficult to believe. Surely, the Alcontean glassmakers were men to be marveled at. 

Before long, Tom heard footsteps returning down the stairs, but these weren't the metallic thumps Guistan's feet made. Instead, they were daintier, accompanied by the clicks of high-heeled shoes. Soon, Guistan's footsteps followed. 

The knights rose to their feet just as a blonde young woman appeared around the corner. Tom's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She sported a youthful face that practically glowed in the sunlight streaming into the room, as did her golden locks, which she allowed to flow gently down her shoulders. She wore a violet jacket with broad lapels folding back to allow a greater view of the deep indigo dress gracing her well-formed body. Her high-heeled shoes matched the dress in hue. 

The woman, clearly Alice Delquez if Tom correctly judged her bearing, offered the knights an easygoing smile as she stepped closer. She approached Alden first, wrapping her arms around his torso and placing her rose-colored lips briefly on his cheek. The old man returned the favor before pulling away. 

"Greetings, Sir Alden Holt." Alice spoke, her voice lilting music to Tom's ears, "It is a pleasure to meet a renowned Monteraynian knight such as yourself face to face." 

Alden grinned and bowed his head slightly. "I assure you, the pleasure is not all yours, my lady." 

She met Tom's gaze next, her alluring brown eyes spiking his heart to new levels of excitement. Alice only laid her hands on his shoulders before placing a kiss on his cheek. Tom felt his body heat when her soft lips met his skin, but yet that additional warmth caused him to shudder. When she drew her head back, he kissed her round cheek—too passionately, perhaps, judging by how quickly she stepped away. 

Alice nodded and spared him a quick glance. "I greet you as well, sir." 

"Hello, Miss Delquez, my name is Thomas Holt." 

Alice smirked. "No relation?" 

Tom chuckled. "I'm afraid not." 

Alden elbowed the young man. "He lies, for he is my grandson." 

"I'm not lying, only jesting!" 

"Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Thomas." Alice interjected. 

"You may call me simply Tom, please." 

She turned to Alden. "Did I not request two knights, Sir Holt?" 

"That you did. And two you got." he said, pointing first at himself, then waving a hand at Tom. 

"Oh! My apologies. But aren't you a bit young for a knight, Tom?" 

The clean-shaven man shrugged, his deep blue eyes unable to linger on hers long. "I began training at thirteen, my lady, and with seven years having passed since then, I've almost come to the end of the advanced portion of my training. Soon, I'll be declared a proper master." 

Alice nodded. "I see. Perhaps my judgement is excessively hasty." 

"Maybe so." Tom agreed, "But with looks like yours, I'd assume you can get away with such things." 

The youthful knight tightened his lips when Alden's glare rested upon him, as did Alice's unimpressed narrowing of her eyes. Her hands found perches on her hips. 

"I apologize for his impetuosity." Alden said, "It will not happen again, not if I have a say in the matter." 

"No, my lady, I am perfectly able to apologize for myself. I'm sorry. I see I have spoken out of turn." Tom sputtered. 

"You are forgiven. Now, sit down so I'm not made to feel awkward for doing so myself." 

Alden chuckled and obliged her, as did Tom. Meanwhile, Guistan lingered at the corner with crossed arms. 

"So," Tom began, "I have a question for you, if you wouldn't mind answering it." 

She raised a blonde eyebrow. "I'll refrain from stamping my approval upon this inquiry until after I hear its contents." 

"Fair enough. I only find myself curious, where will this trip of yours take us?" 

"To Mintfeld." Alice replied, "They are considering joining our republic, and so their king wishes to meet with me and discuss the matter." 

"I see. Well, I suppose I also wish to know how it is you find yourself in a situation so dangerous that your own guards aren't sufficient for your protection. Why you needed us to take a five-day journey to escort you." 

"Surely you've heard about the economic tensions between the Innutukian Empire and my nation?" 

"No, I haven't." Tom replied, glancing back at Alden. "Perhaps it's yet another thing the High Council has kept hidden from me." 

The old man glared at his grandson. "We do not speak of such things here. You should not use the presence of a lady as an excuse to air your grievances." 

"Of course. I meant no offense." Tom said, intentionally failing to veil his frustration, "Lady Delquez, would you be so kind as to bequeath thy knowledge—" 

"Your lips reek of inauthenticity, uttering such words." she remarked, "Please refrain from using them. Now, yes, I will answer your question." 

"Excellent." 

"Provided you shut your mouth for a ratty minute." 

Tom's lips twitched, but he restrained the impulse to reply again. 

"It really is quite simple." Alice said, "In my term as a senator, I have helped implement several policies that have increased Alconte's influence in the international markets and given our tradesmen greater freedom in selling their wares. Therefore, the Innutukian Empire's already-weak hold in our region is threatened all the more. Two attempts have been made already to take my life. Hence, I considered Monteraynian knights useful additions to my security on this trip." 

Tom nodded. "Well, with us around, my lady, you shall never have to bat an eyelash before a potential threat is quelled." 

A hint of a smile graced her lips. "I sure hope you're right about that."

**** 

A/N: Much longer chapter there! We got to acquaint ourselves with Alden and Tom a bit more, meet Alice and her head of security, and witness some awkwardness! I don't know about you, but that just about crosses off everything on my bucket list. 😂 

Anyway, if you enjoyed the chapter, please remember to vote and comment, and while you do that, I'll get cooking up the next one!