Chapter 18.1

The next day, Duchess Ashwood came back for a rematch. This time it wasn't to try to humiliate the weapon master, but to have Hilde learn from him. Duke Beirn made his son do the same. After that came learning various mana abilities. Even at the royal academy, not many would teach others their techniques, as nobody knew when they might end up on opposite sides. But with Eirwen's blessing and Pertrellan's supervision, all present knights were allowed to learn from each other, to solidify their alliances.

The weapon master had already picked up pretty much every technique on offer, so he quickly taught the basics, then had individual knights explain the finer details. An added bonus was that he even could explain how best to integrate each technique with people's individual mana capabilities, including offering mental fine-tuning whenever someone struggled. His adaptability had always been his strong suit.

Meanwhile, Eirwen simply meditated and observed quietly, studying every technique and integrating them in her own skill set. With her refined senses she managed to catch on to the intricate details that people would subconsciously perform, the result of years of training that were impossible to explain. She could tell her weapon master was quietly observing her in turn, using her conclusions to tweak his own. It brought back fond memories of evenings spent together, trying to perfect a technique.

Of course this friendly cooperation didn't apply to the royal delegation, so once those arrived, they would have to quit doing so. Fortunately, a messenger arrived that reported the delegation wasn't planning on going from Verglas to Iceheart estate in a single day. Instead, they would spend the night at Castle Carraig, allowing the joint training to continue until the afternoon of the day after tomorrow.

To no surprise, the weapon master was quite popular as sparring partner. Now that he no longer had to keep his identity a secret, he could freely employ every technique he had ever mastered, which made him a great opponent. This including abilities that let him fight for hours on end. His stamina proved extremely useful as everyone wanted to use him as intelligent training dummy, giving him nary a moment of peace.

Moments came and went, adding up to hours, and still he took no rest. Others ate, but he kept going. Since every spar and every piece of advice he gave, caused people to improve fast, it wasn't strange that everyone sought him out. And with over two hundred knights currently present at the estate, his time was in great demand.

At one point, Aoife sat next to Eirwen, a complicated expression on her face. "I think I understand how you're feeling, your Grace. I'm envious too. But we'll have our time with him after everyone else has gone home. Until then, you'll have to make do with me." She flashed a teasing grin, though she was still clearly suppressing some of her more complicated emotions.

Eirwen teased her back. "Careful, Vicomtesse, one might mistake your words and call him a two-timer. Never mind the rumours that might arise involving the two of us."

Aoife grumbled in turn. "If only. No such luck for me. Okay let's focus on swordplay instead of wordplay, your Grace." Aoife's lessons to her were private, delivered by mental link, teaching her how to have her defences at the ready without constantly draining her mana. After that, it was a matter of being able to rapidly call upon it with a mere thought.

The more techniques Eirwen learned, the more she managed to compare them. How Aoife kept her armour abilities at hand quite resembled how the weapon master would always carry embers with him. And the way he coated his armour with it in turn resembled how the Verglas technique would coat a weapon. Combining lessons from two techniques and developing a whole new version as a result. An adaptability that had made him impossible to fight during the war. Too many had tried and failed.

When dinnertime came, Eirwen had to excuse herself and fulfil her duties as host. At the dinner she relaxed. While she was no Flameheart, who could take on an entire room on their own, she still felt at easy with purely allies present. That too would change soon. By then, she would need some knights at hand during dinner, at least if she wanted to be at peace enough to act without concern. For now, though, she could relax.

The downside was that he couldn't be present. She kept the mourning heart pendant visible, the only way to still at least somewhat keep him with her. Well that and his senses, which still covered the estate in general and her surroundings in extra detail. How he hadn't collapsed yet, she didn't know. She tried to gauge his current state, but even for her it was hard to measure. He might be wringing out the final drops, or still have a quarter barrel left.

He went to bed the very moment Eirwen retired to her office, suggesting it had been the former. The next day went quite the same, except that Eirwen was now finally forced to take up residence in the former Duke's quarters. All to keep up damned appearances. The only upside was that these quarters came with small extra rooms for bodyguards, letting her keep her weapon master closer.

In the evening a messenger arrived, reporting that the royal delegation would arrive the next day. The next morning, people jumped at the opportunity for a final spar. The Ashwood and Beirn delegations would leave alongside the royal one, so today was their final chance. The same applied to most Iceheart nobles. So one final time, the weapon master was worked to the bone.

It was nearing the eighth bell when at a distance Eirwen could sense the royal delegation. More specifically, at this point she simply could feel the disruption of the ambient mana. Her senses were good, but not so good that she could notice them past the town walls. Yet, she silently vowed.

She sent Vicomtesse Pertrellan to escort them. A Comte would have worked better etiquette-wise, but everyone competent knew Pertrellan was one of Eirwen's main advisors. She would escort the many visitors through the town. 

"Mo Chroí. Are you certain you don't want me at the front courtyard when the delegation arrives?"

Certain. You know the rules. All but Dukes and their heirs have to kneel before the royal representative. While you doing so would serve as a proper gesture, those damned fools do not deserve your respect.

He remained silent for a few counts, though she could sense the wry agreement to her near-treacherous remark. He knew as well as she did that the royal family could have had a great impact on the war. But they chose to remain silent, a stance of neutrality that effectively aided Flameheart. Only now that all was settled, did they dare support Verglas.

"Very well. I will keep my distance, making sure to surround myself with Verglas troops at all time. But if at any time you need me to perform a symbolic gesture, just let me know."

Eirwen sent him a mental confirmation, then focused her senses on the approaching delegation. Stretching her senses thin in just the one direction, she managed to pick up enough at this distance to notice many familiar feelings. It seemed that an awful lot of the nobles had sent her contemporaries to greet her. It made sense that they wouldn't attend themselves, but at least in some cases it must have been a deliberate choice. She frowned, understanding exactly what motives they must have had for such political plays.

Putting aside her professional distrust, she practised her facial expressions towards her doorguards. She needed to act as a warm and magnanimous host for this, not the cold-hearted ruler that she normally played. One of her smiles brought a shudder to the guards, making clear what they thought of the fakery. Good, that meant it was working.

When the delegation finally had made its way up the hill, Eirwen was waiting, with a number of Verglas and Iceheart nobles by her side. Ailbe was on her side, while she had sent Aoife off to stay near the weapon master for now. For her too Eirwen didn't feel like giving the royal family the joy of a subservient gesture.

Everyone else knelt to meet the royal representative, Sir Wigbeorht. """We hail the crown.""" Only Eirwen kept quiet at that point, privilege of her rank. With a warm smile, she then spoke her greetings. "Sir Wigbeorht, everyone, I welcome you to the Iceheart estate. Unfortunately we are limited in available space, as its previous owner didn't ever expect so large a group to attend. Still, I hope you will enjoy your stay. The majordoma will make sure you are guided to your quarters. Sir Wigbeorht, will you accompany me?"

"It would be my honour, your Grace. I thank you for your warm welcome." She noted the man had several court mages with him, which in his case was to be expected. Installing a communication crystal took a lot of effort and mana, using techniques that the royal family kept a secret. More interesting, at least three others had brought mages. A peculiar choice, which instantly made Eirwen suspect their intentions.

Sir Wigbeorht followed her. The man had been a baron before he gained his current position. Now, he held no title, as his only loyalty was to the royal family, not to his own. As they made their way through the estate, the man looked around in curiosity. "Forgive my rudeness, your Grace, but I had expected to see your former betrothed. Will we see him later?"

Rude indeed. Eirwen responded with a practised smile. "He is preparing for tonight's feast, running drills with the soldiers and knights. With this many honoured guests, we need to make sure everyone feels comfortable, after all." She implied using his skills and knowledge, while leaving out the fact the knights were under his command. That the man would discover soon enough. "But given how he forfeited his name, we deem it better to address him by his current position. He serves me as my weapon master."

The man nodded, his smile revealing absolutely nothing, while his eyes let slip just the slightest hint of contempt. That attitude was exactly why she had kept the weapon master away initially. "I see, that is good to know. Thank you, your Grace. I will make sure to address him properly if I encounter him."

She hoped he wouldn't be foolish enough to force such an event. The wrong kind of barb wouldn't manage to annoy the weapon master, but it could easily make enemies out of everyone else in the estate. But right now she just nodded and exchanged other pleasantries. Soon after, they arrived at their destination. "These quarters once served the Marquis. I hope you and your entourage will find them hospitable enough. I will see you at the welcoming feast, Sir Wigbeorht."

He gave her a friendly bow, just deep enough to appear respectful. The man was a fool for trying to put her in her place. It showed just how little the royal palace understood the western dukedoms. She would have to confront that later, but for now she could rest. With a subtle spring in her step, she made her way to the rear courtyard, indulging herself with a quick spar before taking her bath.