Muriel stood out on the balcony of their room at the tavern overlooking Roseglen. She thought that Marwynn must have arrived at North Moon by this point as it had been almost a five days journey. The past few days had been filled with helping the tree folk with their harvest. To say that it was not easy was an understatement. Muriel was sore and tired. Morganse appeared in the doorway and tapped lightly to announce that she was there. “Muriel, you are wondering if Marwynn is alright, no?” she asked.

  Slightly annoyed at the intrusion, Muriel answered “yes.”

  Morganse rested her arms on the railing next to Muriel. They had been sharing the room for the past few days and had barely spoken a word to each other. Morganse was allowing her to have some space before prying but could no longer wait.

  “You know, I think Marwynn would not have purposely put himself in harm’s way unless he had a plan.” She said thinking her words would comfort Muriel.

  “That is where you are wrong Morganse. You have known him for a few days, I have known him for a lifetime.” She said in a huff.

  “Forgive me for prying, I was just attempting to ease your mind.” Morganse turned to leave.

  “Wait. Morganse, I. I’m sorry.” Muriel mumbled. “Please don’t go.”

  Morganse stood by Muriel and waited for her to speak.

  “I thank you for your concern but I know Marwynn. He would sacrifice his own life so that no others would need to suffer again.” Muriel lamented.

  Morganse answered, “If that is truly his character, how did he become a shadow?”

  Muriel replied “we are all entitled to bad decisions that would pull into question our character. It is his story, I cannot tell it.”

  “I can respect that. However he does come off as a tad suspicious. Fin and I are not fully sure that he can be trusted.” Morganse said.

  Muriel scoffed, “I would never trust your brother with anything other than a swift kick to the behind.”

  Morganse chuckled, “He can be difficult but he does have his reasons, perhaps you could try and understand him.” “No offense but I would rather not.” Muriel said.

  “Suit yourself,” Morganse straightened out. “There is one thing I would like to talk to you about.”

  “Yes?” Muriel asked.

  “Are you aware that Declan has no skills with a sword at all?” she asked.

  Muriel laughed “I am fully aware, I saw his play fight with Fin, his footing is entirely off.”

  Morganse smiled at the memory of him dancing around yesterday with the stick sword swinging. She thought it was sweet that he was entertaining Fin. “Muriel, I have not been at ease since I witnessed that atrocity. The people will want a strong leader that can fight for them.” She said.

  “I know, he needs to be trained properly” Muriel offered.

  “Your father owns a smithy correct?” Morganse asked.

  Awareness dawning on her face, Muriel knew what Morganse was getting at. She sighed “Ok Morganse, I will train him.”

  Morganse smiled in relief, “we should begin now, I can help too.” They walked together to go and find Declan.

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  Declan was sitting with his legs dangling on one of the rope bridges and looking across the trees at the sky. He heard Muriel laughing with Morganse and walking towards where he was sitting. They both sat down on either side of him and he couldn’t help but blush lightly.

  “Declan,” Morganse began, “we have been thinking about your fighting skills.”

  “Don’t be modest Morganse, you mean lack of fighting skills” Muriel said.

  Declan blushed a little bit deeper and was clearly uncomfortable. “Yes. I know that I am useless in defending myself.”

  “We are hoping to change that” Morganse said gently.

  Muriel chimed in “I can teach you sword fighting and Morganse here is going to show you how to fight hand to hand.”

  Declan looked at Morganse and gave a small smile “I cannot promise that it will do any good but if you want to try, I will be a willing student.”

  For the next few hours, Declan was instructed in the basics of swords and proper handling. Muriel was quite good with a sword and her speed would make her a worthy opponent on a battlefield.

  When Morganse had finished instructing Declan in the basics of self defense, for which he blushed every time Morganse and he touched, it was just about dinner time. They walked back to the tavern to rest and grab some food.

  Morganse walked ahead and said “You did good today Declan, I think if we continue this daily you will be highly skilled in no time at all.”

  Declan flushed a deep shade of red at Morganse’s compliment and he was thankful she did not turn to see him. Muriel who was next to him couldn’t help but notice tried to hide her smile. Declan’s eyes pleaded with Muriel to say nothing. Muriel nodded and kept silent.

  After dinner, Muriel and Morganse retired to their room and Declan sat down at the bar. It was a quiet evening in the bar as most of the villagers were exhausted from the harvest. The barkeep poured a mug of ale for Declan and plopped it down next to him. Declan who had been lost in thought grabbed it and said “Thank you, what was your name again?”

  “Pimm.” He stood at the sink wiping down the other mugs with a rag.

  Declan noticed that Pimm looked up at him every minute or so. After the next look, Declan raised his eyes to meet his. “I couldn’t help but notice that you have been studying me, is everything alright?”

  Pimm chortled nervously “My apologies Declan, it is just that when I look at you, you remind me of someone. It could be just a coincidence.”

  “Who do I remind you of?” Declan asked curiously.

  “It is probably just a coincidence but you are the spitting image of the younger King.” Pimm said.

  Declan smiled gently and Pimm continued “What I mean is,” he explained “that you look like him, but you do not possess any of his other attributes.”

  “Would it surprise you to know that I am Prince Declan, and that the King is my father?” Declan answered.

  Pimm almost dropped the glass he was holding, “you jest!”

  “Not at all, I am his younger son.” Declan pressed. He was hoping that Pimm would be willing to help him.

  Pimm stopped smiling and leaned closer studying Declan’s face. After a few moments he laughed nervously, “tis true!”

  Declan whispered to him, “How well did you know my father?”

  “I used to work in the kitchens at Whitehaven Castle. I served his food every day for a year.” Pimm remembered.

  “I am sure that you have heard of what became of him?” Declan questioned.

  “Last that I heard, he was planning a war against Lady Revna. Turns out she has been stealing from him.” Pimm said.

  “Pimm.” Declan leaned closer, “my father, is.. dead.”

  Pimm gasped and stumbled backwards. “When?”

  “I am unsure, I just know that it is supposed that my brother had a hand in it and now Lady Revna is acting as a regent in my stead.” Declan answered.

  “Is that by choice?” Pimm asked nervously.

  “Not at all, before I found out about my father, I escaped three assassins.” Declan revealed.

  “So what are you doing here then?” Pimm shivered.

  “I am hear hoping to rally those who would stand behind me. I am hoping that Roseglen would be the first to join me.” Declan said.

  Pimm had a pained look on his face as he responded “I don’t know if the people here would be interested in a war. Not after the Massacre.” Pimm hung his head low and pulled off his cap in his hands.

  “I understand, I will not ask them in this matter.” Declan said. He did not want any part of this either, but of anyone, this village need not be decimated any further.

  “I did not say we would not, I can not speak for everyone. Perhaps you should hold a meeting and ask them.” Pimm suggested.

  “Perhaps I will.” Declan thought out loud sounding excited. He hurriedly walked for the stairs and then remembered, “Oh and Pimm, thank you.”