Chapter Text
The great council demanded for another marriage. While Shaw didn’t care about politics, she did, in her own ways, care about her friends. It was obvious that Harold fretted over such idea since he requested for Reese’s and her presence right after the meeting. Thus Shaw, complete in her black war coat and scimitar hanging on her leather belt, was sitting on the floor of Harold’s bedchamber. The smell of tea was too strong.
“What did Joss say about it?”
“Lady Carter is the one who suggested the idea in the first place. Only Baron Marcus voted against it.”
“You can out rule them, Harold,” Shaw said.
It broke the back-and-forth motion Harold had been doing for the last couple of minutes. He stared down at her with hardened look she was so familiar with. “We’re trying to change into a more democratic government, Lady Shaw.”
Shaw flinched. Throughout the entire kingdom, the king happened to be the only one insisting on using her proper title. Although he always ensured he didn’t do so in public and addressed her by her rank as she preferred to bear the same standing as the other knights instead of being a dame.
“I can’t just override a decision because I don’t like it. Besides...” He looked over to where Reese was standing on the balcony, seventeen-months old toddler with wild golden mane on his arm. Harold couldn’t help but smile at the view. “They’re right. Genrika does need a mother figure.”
Between the three of them, Shaw was sure the little princess would grow up just fine. Harold would teach her everything she needed to rule their kingdom. Reese would train her in swordsmanship. Shaw would see to it that Genrika received the best education possible.
Also, there were other people too. Justiciar Carter was the stern parental figure Genrika feared and looked up at, when she was not too busy sorting the remaining mess from war. There was Reese’s on and off married lover, Chancellor Morgan, who travelled too much and stayed too short. And last was Genrika’s favorite, Grandmaster Fusco. Where they were lacking, there was where the nannies and governess supposed to fill in and they had plenty of those around already. They were a mess, Shaw admitted, but Genrika would never be short on love. There was no need to bring in another woman to play as her mother.
“Who did they suggest, Harold?” Reese had joined them back. Once he put Genrika down, the princess ran off to Shaw to tackle her in a messy hug. “I hope it’s not our lady here.” He snickered at the death glare Shaw was giving him.
“Oh, no, no.” Harold’s quick interjection of the idea turned him as the new receiving end of the angry stare. “As the constable, Lady Shaw has to be ready at any moment to lead our knights and army shall another war arises.”
It was the bitter truth. The war three years back had left Harold with a spinal injury that impaired his gait forever. He was no longer fitting to ride a horse, let alone leading in war. Reese stood-in for him until the late Queen Grace passed away during childbirth. He resigned his position then, and took a new vow of protecting Harold and Genrika as the groom of the stool, while Shaw took over for him.
Looking back at the past, their kingdom did become more liberal after the war. The church and state turned blind-eye towards the women whose husbands were lost in battle and decided to raise their children together as domestic partners. The kingdom had allowed Lords’ daughters to take knighthood long ago, giving them the same title as their male counterparts, but it wasn’t until Shaw that they had a real lady acting as knight in front of public. Perhaps change was not so bad after all.
“Who are the candidates?” Shaw asked, resigned. A realization then hit her and she narrowed her eyes at Harold. “Not the young ladies, I hope.”
Harold made a disgusted face. “No. They had agreed on one candidate, Lady Groves from the east.”
Both Reese and Shaw furrowed their brows. “There is a Lady Groves?” Reese asked. “I thought the old Lord Groves died in war.”
“It was unclear, but his son inherited the title and castle. He too had unfortunately passed away soon after his marriage to Lady Groves. She has taken over the castle ever since.”
Reese looked at Shaw, who shrugged back. “Never met her.”
“With no heir to the name and since the area was far on our border with Samaritan, the council decided that it’ll be in everyone’s interest for unison through marriage.” Harold patted his daughter’s hair, his expression somber. “Therefore, Lady Shaw, there’s a favor I’d like to ask you.”
Shaw rolled her eyes at Harold’s phrasing. It didn’t matter how he spelled it out, she couldn’t refuse anyway. She had an idea of what the favor would be. “Pickin’ up your bride?”
“A potential candidate, if you please.”
“Same difference,” Shaw said as she got back to her feet. Genrika squealed at her cape, circling around her until she was dizzy and Reese had to scoop her up. “When do I leave?” She reached out to fix Genrika’s hair, the motion a bit awkward, but the child gave a winning grin nonetheless.
“By the first daylight, please.”
The Groves Castle lay on the far east of Thornhill kingdom, a wide stream separating it from Samaritan’s land. It was their front line of defense, should Samaritan decide to end their already shaky pact of peace and try to conquer Thornhill. It took a day to reach the castle if one was alone and in a rush, but for the sake of appearances, Shaw was ‘requested’ of several things that put the journey slower. The best horse-drawn carriage along with two foot-soldiers, all for a few days of stay in the castle and even fewer dates. Shaw was thankful she got out of the life of nobility before she learned how to spell the word.
Shaw had made acquaintance of the Groves’ knights—as the administrative part of her job as the constable required her to oversee their kingdom’s army—yet she never met the lady of the castle herself. Thus her opinion of Harold’s future spouse and his whole arranged marriage remained neutral for the time being. As long as it was something her king wanted, then it was not her place to interfere.
By the time the sun set, Shaw had ordered the troop to rest. They were lucky to find a tavern on the side of the road, just on the skirt of the woods, and she was more than glad to get out of her leather armor. They would reach the castle before noon if they left before the first ray of sun broke over the horizon next morning. As it was unwise to travel through the forest at night, there was no rush.
After freshening up and dressed in a simple trousers and tunic, Shaw joined her men downstairs. Unlike the first time she entered the bar earlier, the patrons didn’t cower in fear at her presence. With no tabard bearing their kingdom’s insignia, she was just an odd woman in a bar full of drunken men. They leered, catcalling, and throwing offensive remarks that shamed Shaw’s men into silence on their table. The treatment continued until she laid a hand on the hilt of her scimitar, bringing attention to the weapon and the crest decorating it, and then they too fell into silence. Shaw couldn’t help but smirk to herself. At least this time she didn’t need to knock out some thugs and add a dent on her personal expenses for ruining yet another bar in order to prove a point.
A chorused ‘grilled beef steak’ from her men answered her question of the best choice of food available. Right on cue, the barmaid came with plates full of food and more drinks. The men cheered before they dug in. Dinner was done in minutes—the army trained them well to eat fast and be ready in case of surprise attack. The coachman, an old gentleman with white beard and kind eyes, had just started his tale of war when Shaw excused herself to check on her destrier, Indigo. She bid them a good night, walking out of the tavern and to the small barn the owner used to keep guests’ horses. A carrot she obtained from the cook in hand.
Around the corner, she ran into someone. Her muttered apology met grunted acknowledgement as the cloaked figure walked away. Shaw thought it was quite odd for a commoner to wear perfume, but paid no further attention to it. That was until she was in the barn, reaching for her hunting knife to cut the carrot and found its leather sheath strapped empty on her hip.
Shaw rushed out of the dark building before her mind could catch up. She was sure the person she had run into earlier was the one who stole her knife. The sentimental value it held was much bigger than its price. It was her grandfather’s, then her father’s, and then hers after he passed away in a hunting accident. She swore she would give the little thief a lesson once she found them.
What she didn’t expect, however, was to find them waiting right outside the barn. The thief leaned on the wall, playing with her knife. They didn’t move away when Shaw marched up to them, grabbing the cloak and slammed them back without wasting any time. The hood fell off and Shaw quirked a brow at the woman in front of her.
“Looking for this—“ The woman raised the knife, its blade glinting under the low light of the moon. She didn’t stop smiling, as though she knew something Shaw didn’t “—Sam?” And perhaps she did.
Shaw snatched the knife and the woman let her, even when the same blade pressed onto the side of her neck in return. “Who are you?”
“A curious wanderer. I’ve heard whispers about a knight venturing to the Groves’ land, didn’t expect it to be the constable herself.”
“What do you want from me?” Shaw pressed further, breaking the skin. A drop of blood dripped from the tip of her knife and trailed down pale skin. The woman didn’t even flinch.
“Nothing. At least not from you, Sam.”
The woman lifted her left hand and Shaw retreated back, putting a distance between them. Too bad, it was not far enough for when the woman struck her with her right. Shaw stumbled back, stars on the edge of her vision. She was a little dazed and in pain from her bleeding nose.
“I’m sorry I have to do that. You really wouldn’t let me leave if I don’t,” the woman said, slipping away from Shaw’s blind reach. “We’ll meet again soon.”