Chapter 84: I felt and looked awful

It was quiet as everyone filed in. I remember that. I remember that I expected noise and people jostling each other. I remember expecting there to be more activity and more....energy about the place.

But there was none of that.

What there was was the occasional rattle of armour against armour. Sword against leg and the scrape of chairs against the floor. Odd snatches of conversation as men greeted others that they knew, small titters of laughter but above all there was an air of expectancy. Of quiet... withdrawn.... patience.

Take a strip of cloth and tie it into a loop. Then thread a stick through the hoop and start twisting it until it is coiled and tight. That was what it was like.

Another similarity would be that, if you see an athlete in the starting blocks. Poised and controlled, ready to start off at the sprint. In that split second before he leaps from his place and into the full on sprint.

It wasn't excitement. None of the men and women assembled were looking forward to what was going to happen next. They weren't going to enjoy themselves over the coming nights work. Instead, this was going to be hard and dangerous. But they were anticipating it. Needing it to happen. Needing that release of sudden explosive activity.

There was anger in the air, sullen rage and resentment. A cold fury that had been banked into a slow and hot fire that threatened to spill over and consume everything before them. If the Empress or Duchess had declared war in that moment then these men would be in the vanguard of the armies that would have marched forth.

I sat in the corner on a low seat. Kerrass was next to me and had his hand on my shoulder, a gentle reminder that he was there and that I was not alone. Sam was next to me and was pacing a couple of steps backwards and forwards. Step, step, step, turn. Then back. He looked pale, eyes sunken in his face with huge black shadows under his eyes, his lips were just slightly peeled back from his lips as though he was on the verge of snarling or sneering.

He had told me that I looked awful. I told him that he looked the same way that I felt. He had smiled, horribly.

I had my spear next to me. I had alternated between gripping it so tight that my hands had started to cramp and my knuckles had turned white, to holding it loosely and spinning it round and round in a circle of my hands. I was listening to the sound that it made on the wooden floor. I hadn't lifted my gaze from where the pommel on the ground.

I felt awful.

Over and over again people had been telling me that I hadn't done anything wrong. That it wasn't my fault. That I hadn't brought this here and inflicted it on my family and on the Empire as a whole. But no matter who said that, no matter who or how they said these things. I didn't believe them. Whether it was the Empress herself, Emma, Laurelen, Kerrass, Lord Voorhis, Sammy, Sir Thomas, Lord Voorhis etc. Even The White Wolf himself had attempted to talk me down.

“No matter what happens.” He told me. “No matter the circumstances or what other people might tell you. You are not the one that lured your sister out into the night. You are not the one that kidnapped her. You are not the one that failed to inform the relevant people of the situation. All you did was write about an established phenomenon.” He rested his hand on my shoulder and stared into my eyes. “This is not your fault. Save your hate for the bastards responsible and don't poison yourself with self recrimination.”

But how could I listen. I blamed myself. Of course I did. Kerrass had warned me that in talking about these entities like Jack and his ilk, then I drew their gaze onto myself. But I hadn't listened. I had insisted that Kerrass tell me the story about Jack and I had insisted that I be allowed to publish what he had told me. This was my fault. I needed someone to blame and in the absence of anyone else to blame then I had chosen to blame myself.

I kept running through all of the reasons why it wasn't my fault but over and over again I refused to believe them. It was another one of those differences between what the head knows and what the heart knows. I knew it wasn't my fault but I didn't know it.

There was no-one else to blame.

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So I sat, staring at the floor, my boots and the butt of my spear.

Lord Voorhis walked into the room. He was dressed in the full armour of his position as General of the Armoured Cavalry of the Alba division. His armour was ornate and shiny but I had seen it earlier in the day and it was well worn and battle scarred. It was designed so that those people who were looking for orders would be able to find him in the battlefield. Contrary to how the military of the Northern Realms works where people like King Henselt of Kaedwen and King Foltest of Temeria would lead from the front alongside their men. Generals of Nilfgaard are encouraged to stand back from the action, the better able to see the big picture of the battlefield, the better able to maintain continuation of command.

I'm not sure which side of this debate I fall on.

But he walked in. On one side he was flanked by the Sorceress Phillipa Eilhart and on the other hand walked a man that I didn't recognise. His golden armour and huge sword that he carried at his side suggested that he was one of the old Knights Errant of Toussaint. He had a huge drooping moustache and a shaven head and looked as though he hadn't slept in the last couple of days. Behind him walked the White Wolf who led another six Witchers into the room. They stood together in a group.

“Attention,” said a young voice. I thought it was Sir Thomas. He was here to somewhere but I had lost track of him as he had disappeared into the crowd to confer with compatriots. The members of the Imperial guard slammed to attention. The former Knights Errant climbed to their feet, not wishing to be outdone.

“That's enough.” Lord Voorhis looked as tired as I felt and I felt as though I was on the verge of death. “Let's be honest gentlemen. We don't have time for that kind of bullshit today.”

There was some nervous laughter in the room.

“Here's the state of things as we understand it now. Lady Francesca von Coulthard is missing. Those of you that came with the Empress from the south will know in what high regard the Empress holds this young lady. Indeed, you will know in what high regard we all hold this young lady.”

There was some rumbling of agreement from the black clad men in the room. That was it, that's the phrase that I was looking for. These people were angry and they wanted violence. The members of the guard were angry at the loss and the Knights errant that were present were angry at the failure of one of their own. This was a preventable circumstance and it was shocking to all of us that it had been allowed to get this far.

“The object of tonight's mission is to locate and rescue Lady Francesca. This is priority one and I cannot stress this enough. After this, we must locate and capture the man responsible.” Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

There was a bit of a rumble of dismay and protest.

“We want this person alive gentlemen.” Lord Voorhis emphasised.

More voices were raised in protest. Lord Voorhis chose to be placating in his gestures.

“I know. I know, nothing would please me more than if you brought the bastard back in several pieces but that's not the ideal. We know that he took her but we also need to know how Lady Francesca was lured out into the night before the coronation and if we can't find Lady Francesca then we need to know where she is. It is vital that we find the answer to the question of how she was tricked for the sake of the security of the Empire. If the fellow is killed rather than captured, the killer will answer to the Empress herself who is likely to take out her frustrations on the idiot who disobeyed orders. As it is the Empress is having to be sat on by two Witchers, a Sorceress and the Duchess and is locked in her room. So believe me when I say that her Imperial Majesty is in a foul mood and I pity the next poor fool who makes the mistake of pissing her off.”

A number of people sniggered.

“So here's the plan. By now, all of you will have been given your unit assignments. Each unit consists of twenty members of the guards, two Knights Errant and a Witcher. We have eight Witchers in total as two are staying back to guard the Empress, and so there are eight units. The city has been divided into seven sections with one unit assigned to each section and one unit kept in reserve at a central location. The Knights Errant have been chosen for their local knowledge and you should listen to them when it comes to deployment in your area.”

“What's the command structure of each unit?” A member of the guard asked. I didn't see who it was.

“The Witchers have been given temporary field commissions of “Colonels of the guard”.”

There was some scattered discomfort at this, although the Witchers didn't seem to care that much.

Lord Voorhis held his hands up for silence. “There is a reason why the Witchers are in command which we will get to. After the Witcher, the chain of command goes into the head officer of the guard followed by the senior Knight errant although the Witcher would do well to defer to the relevant second in military matters and matters of local knowledge.”

He stared at the assembly.

“Any questions?”

There were none.

“Master Witcher Geralt please.”

He gestured and the White Wolf stepped forward. He was dressed in non-descript leather armour with a black band of leather that held his startlingly white hair out of his eyes. He had both swords on his back.

“You all know me,” he said. Where Lord Voorhis' voice was trained and magnetic, Geralt's voice was flat and grating, almost dead. I wondered if he had already taken some potions and looked for tremors in his hands but couldn't see any. “You all know what I am capable of. But one thing is different here. The thing that we are chasing tonight is.... different. By that I mean that it is exceedingly rare. So I'm going to pass over to the Witcher who knows more about what we're facing here than I do. Master Kerrass of the Feline school.”

There was some shifting of weight and discomfort among the people assembled. Kerrass calmly left his post at my side and strode to the centre of the room. Geralt made a point of clapping Kerrass on the shoulder companionably before stepping back.

“By now,” Kerrass began, “You will all have heard about the rumours in these parts regarding a figure of fear that the locals of Toussaint refer to as “Laughing Jack.” I have spent most of the last couple of days since the discovery of the existence of this threat, discussing the possibilities with Lord Voorhis, the other Witchers and the officers here present.

“There are three possibilities that we are dealing with. The first possibility is that this entire thing is a coincidence. That the figure of “Laughing Jack,” is just a man who is taking advantage of superstition and social prejudices to prey on beautiful young women. He takes them back to whatever lair that he has before slaking his sick lusts on his victims.”

He took a beat.

“Gentlemen, believe me when I say that we should pray that this is the case.

“The second possibility is that this is an imitation. That some sick fuck is invoking the phenomenon that scholars refer to as “Jack.” They will have used magic to take on the form of Jack himself including some of Jack's abilities and character in order to terrorise the locality and kidnap Lady Francesca. If this is the case then we are still dealing with a man. A very dangerous man with skills and abilities beyond the powers of normal man, dwarf or elf but a man nonetheless. If this is the case then speed is of the essence as the “Jack” phenomenon is known to be jealous of it's power, and will be looking to revenge itself on the imitator.”

“What kind of abilities are we talking about?” Someone shouted.

“Try and imagine a man. Faster than anything that you've seen. Easily able to outrun the fastest horse. He will be a swordsman the likes of which you will not have seen.”

There was an increasing rumbling of dissent and disbelief. Kerrass astonished everyone by laughing, long and loud.

“I know, I know.” he said, still chuckling. “I'm a fighting man too and it's the urge of fighting men everywhere not to believe that there is a man better than they are. I am no slouch with a sword. Those of you that have seen the Witchers train in the yard will know the standard that we hold ourselves to, but even we would be lucky to hold our own against this thing with two to one odds in our favour.”

There were more sounds of disbelief but the room was listening again. I wasn't the only person who had turned to look at the other Witchers to see their reaction to this assessment. There was no expression at all on their faces.

A number of guardsmen had turned pale.

“Further to this, someone who emulates Jack's abilities can leap to the top of tall buildings and fall of a cliff, landing without injury.”

“What should we look for?”

“Jack is always male. He dresses as though he was on the way to a theatre, or a party at the highest level. Eye-witness accounts talk about a cape and a tall hat that might resemble the chimney of a forge. He dresses in dark colours but always in the latest styles and would be considered to be at the height of fashion. He wields a sword cane. The sword in his right hand which he uses in the style of a rapier and his cane in his off hand which he uses for parrying, grapples and to trip his opponent. After that, details start to vary.

“Sometimes he wears a mask of sack-cloth to hide his face. Into the cloth there will be two eye-holes cut. If there is any shade of colour about his clothing, that is not dark it is on his waist-coat which shows as white, sometimes in the pattern of a rib-cage. Sometimes his lower body appears to be in the shape of a goats legs.”

There was more discomfort.

“No, I promise you that I am not making this up.” Kerrass said to the group. “He often displays a perverse sense of humour as well as a strange sense of personal honour. The laughter that has been described is not unusual in these kinds of cases

“If you see this figure, do not, I repeat, do not attempt to tackle him on your own. You will die. Identify him and track him, alerting your companions and getting word to the Witcher of your group so that the Witcher can make an assessment. It is certainly not safe to approach him with anything less than three to one odds. Try to entangle him, or delay him until help can arrive. I cannot emphasise this enough. As it is, the nights work is likely to be bloody.”

“You mentioned a third possibility Master Kerrass.” Lord Voorhis said into the silence that met this comment.

“Yes. The third possibility is that we are dealing with Jack itself.”

There were some exchanges of glances.

“What should we do if this is the case?” Sir Thomas, I think.

“Pray to survive.” Kerrass said. “I should say that it is far from likely that it be Jack himself. The odds are much more likely that someone has read the story of Jack from Lord Frederick Coulthard's travel journals and has chosen to take steps to emulate it. That, or someone equally as stupid as all of us, has invoked Jack and brought his gaze down upon themselves in an effort to make themselves famous or for more malicious reasons.”

“You make it sound hopeless Master Kerrass.” someone said. I think it was a Knight Errant due to the levels of polite arrogance in the man's voice.

“Believe me when I say that I would be surprised if we don't lose someone tonight.” Kerrass said. “But if you do what the Witcher in your group tells you and don't be stupid, then we all might make it out of this alive.”

“What if this person simply goes to ground?” Sir Thomas again I thought, although I couldn't see who it was.

“The city has been under martial law for the last day. Wouldn't our target be better off just going to ground and waiting this out?”

“Yes they would. But as I say, Jack is possessed of a perverse sense of humour. He is likely to see this all as some kind of challenge and if someone has been majicked to emulate him then they would share that trait. We must hope that we don't find evidence of him. This means that we are simply dealing with a man and we can be systematic in our search for him. No,” Kerrass shook his head. “If it's Jack, someone usurping Jack's power for themselves, someone possessed by Jack or someone trying to convince us that it is Jack that's out there? We will find something.”

People subsided. There was lots of sidelong glances being exchanged.

Kerrass shrugged. “Now for the good news though. Lady Eilhart?”

He stepped back, leaving room for the aggressive and cold Philippa Eilhart to take centre stage.

“This is a matter that is important to the Lodge of Sorceresses.” She began. “Entities like the being that we are referring to here as Jack are incredibly dangerous. The games that they play with humanity are sick and the possibility that “Jack,” has decided to meddle in our affairs, or that someone might seek to summon him, or his attention to this place is potentially catastrophic. As such, the magical community is taking steps to help in the effort to bring down these criminals with all possible haste. As such, the Lodge has formed a coven for the evening. We are focused on the city and the immediate environs and we will be attuned to any kind of magical phenomenon along those lines.

“We will then relay anything that we find to the teams directly to help with deployment and the movement of resources so as to best bring these sick individuals to justice. We are listening for the laughter that has been described, movement of magical powers as well as the existence of any living thing or force that does not normally fall into the category of normal sentient life.

“As such. It is imperative that if you hear a woman's voice in your head. Then believe that voice and obey what you are being told instantly and without hesitation. We may be relaying information to you that might save your life. Primarily we will be passing information to Lord Voorhis and facilitating his communication with the team leaders but in the case of emergencies, we may be forced to communicate directly with you for the sake of expediency.”

She stepped back.

“What about all the other magical people in the city?” someone asked.

“Those people have been leaving by magical gate all day and by the time the sun sets the only people that will be in Toussaint capital will be Lady Eilhart's coven.” Lord Voorhis had stepped back into control again.

“Any more questions?”

There were none.

“Good. In the meantime, I would advise everyone to read the sections of Lord Frederick's travel journals regarding the “Jack” entity. Copies are being passed around.”

He took another deep breath.

“The Empress is watching us gentlemen. Many of you know Lady Francesca, some of you are even in love with her a little bit. The Empress, Lady Francesca, Toussaint as a whole and this bastard's victims have already been betrayed and let down badly by the authorities. Let's make sure that we do them proud tonight. Good luck and be Careful out there.”

He stepped back from the front of the assembled people.

-

The Empress had not taken the news of “Laughing Jack” well.

I had to be sedated and was put to sleep for the rest of the night when we first received news of the presence of someone who was being called “Laughing Jack” in the Duchy of Toussaint. People were concerned that I might end up hurting myself, such was the violence of my actions so I have no memory at all of that night and it wasn't until the following day where I was allowed to stir myself and head back to the palace.

I say allowed because Kerrass, the ever present nurse-maid, had insisted that I eat something before he would let me out of bed. He threatened me with magic, violence and the disapproval of Ariadne so in the end I ate the soup that I was provided. Then I ate the bread and the cheese and the meat along with enough watered wine that I felt as though people would be able to hear the liquid sloshing around in my stomach as I moved. I had the impression that Kerrass hadn't slept. I didn't check but he had that brightness in his eyes that suggested a night without sleep.

I didn't ask what he had been doing and he didn't offer the information.

I kept my head down as we walked up to the palace. I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to have to stop. It seemed obscene to me that people were celebrating. Still celebrating the coronation of the Empress. I wanted to grab the entire Duchy by the neck and shake them until they realised what was going on. So I kept my head down and walked on, letting Kerrass deflect the many, no doubt well-meaning, people who greeted me as I walked.

We were shown straight into the great hall which was the first time that day that I felt something get through the fog of anger, fear and self-recrimination that had settled over my brain.

The last time that I had been in this room it had been decked out in all of it's finery. Nobles had lined the place in their best clothes while waiting to see the Empress be crowned. There had been flowers everywhere, rose-petals had dusted the floor, banners and flags had covered the walls and the many mingled perfumes of the assembly had created a heady, almost hallucinatory effect.

Now, the first thing I thought was that I was surprised by how much smaller it seemed. The banners had gone, the petals had been swept up and the plants cleared away. There were no chairs on the floor and no throne on the dais. Instead there was a plain wooden table with a simple wooden chair. My courtly instincts were tickling me in the back of my skull.

There was a piece of theatre being played out here and I wondered for whom it was meant to benefit.

We were not the first people to arrive. Lord Voorhis and Duchess Anna Henrietta were already there although she looked strange and I couldn't tell what was different about her. It came to me though. She was dressed in a plane cream dress with no jewellery and no make-up at all. Speaking personally I felt that she looked better for it. Far more beautiful than she had looked previously. There was also a small number of other courtiers and Knights Errant present. From the formal house colours and pageantry they seemed to be of the Toussaint noble houses.

There were also Nilfgaardian guards on the doors alongside knights Errant who were wearing their full plate harness. The contrast between the dull black armour of the guard and the mirror sheen of the golden plate was dizzying.

Emma was there, standing beside Sam in his armour and Laurelen along with Mark who was wearing his most austere cassock. The four of them looked exhausted and I moved to stand with them. Emma reached out and took my hand to give it a little squeeze as I moved alongside. Sam didn't respond and seemed lost in his own thoughts.

With my new vantage point I could see that at the front of the room was a huge burly man, in his armour of the Knights Errant. He had long flowing hair and a strong chin with a cleft down the middle. Ornate scroll-work covered his armour with runic shapes and prayers etched into the armour. It must have cost a fortune. I would have sneered but the sword at his side had a well worn Leather grip and although the scabbard was covered in jewels and ornamentation, the pommel was without ornament. The man radiated arrogance and smug self-superiority.

I hated him on sight.

The reason that he caught my eye was the young man standing next to him. I recognised him instantly due to his busted, swollen nose and black eye. This was the fourteen year old that Sir Thomas had dragged into my presence by the ear.

I was momentarily astonished by the depths of my anger and I hung my head to study my shoes while I waited for the dizziness to pass.

But I had nothing at all on how angry the Empress was.

I learned a truth that day and I have been told to publish it.

The Empress is a woman of strong emotion. She likes to laugh, shout and swear. She does not hold to the theory that a head of state must appear to hide what they are thinking and she wears her heart on her sleeve.

The previous day when she had announced herself by the sounds of her swearing and yelling at everybody. I had thought her angry then but I was wrong. This day she came in and she was cold, stark and utterly, utterly still. She was like ice.

She came into the room. She had on a black riding coat with the Silver Starburst broach over her chest. She was followed by Lady Yennefer, her private secretary, the Witcher Geralt and a number of other people that I didn't recognise. All of them wore carefully blank expressions.

The Empress was carrying a sword.

She stalked to the front of the room and stood in front of the Knight Errant that I had noticed earlier. The fact that she had to look up at him was not lost on me as he towered over her. I couldn't read his expression. He seemed....expectant? Defiant? Certainly very sure of himself. I'm told that he was one of the finer swordsmen in the Duchy.

“You must be Sir Craythorne.” She said. She only spoke quietly but we all heard her.

I noticed that the private Secretary was laying out several pieces of paper on the small table along with a candle, quill and ink-pot. The Secretary seemed like a quiet man. I know that he was one of the more powerful men in the Empire and I'm told that he is actually really charming, frighteningly intelligent and has a vast store of knowledge that the Empress finds invaluable. There was a stiffness in his movements that mirrored his Imperial mistress' attitude. But he was well trained or experienced enough that I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

“Sir Craythorne de Kayalese du Lac.” The offending knight said loudly, his voice pitched to project and fill the room. “Member of the order of the Heron, keeper of the Keys of Justice and Champion of the Tournament of the Rose.” His voice was musical, cultured and spoke of much training. It seemed impossible for a man to appear more beautiful.

“Yes yes.” The Empress said, waving her hand dismissively. “Impressive titles all, but I have spoken to the heads of the orders of Justice and the Chalice and have spoken to Lord Knaius of the rose and they have all agreed to strip you of those titles. The head of the order of the Lady of the Lake simply refuses to acknowledge that you exist. They showed me the membership rolls and your name simply doesn't feature. I searched and searched most diligently but I still couldn't find your name despite the new parchment and fresh ink. I am forced to conclude that your claiming of that title is simply false and can be added to your list of crimes although I will admit that that is quite superfluous considering all of the other things that you stand charged with.”

“Crimes Madame?” Although his perfect face didn't change you could sense the sneer.

The room hissed. A number of the Imperial Guard even went so far as to almost draw their weapons.

“You will refer to the Empress as “Your Imperial Majesty,” or you will be made to.” Duchess Anna Henrietta spoke into the silence that came after the clamour had died down.

“It doesn't really matter.” The Empress commented. “I am not so fragile in my sense of self that I need to trot out a huge list of titles to make me feel as though I am important.”

She turned away and walked a few steps off before turning and giving one of the most false smiled that I have ever had the opportunity to see.

“Tell me Sir Craythorne. What are the principal qualities of a knight?”

“Strength at arms, Pride, a sense of Justice, enforcement of the correct social order, laws and the proper use of authority.”

The Empress sighed.

“Oh dear. Care to try again?”

“Imperial Majesty. As has been said by many, including the honoured Duchess. I am the very flower of knighthood. I exemplify all of the qualities that are looked for in a knight. Those things are the important qualities of a knight. They are true because I say that they are true.”

“And you can do no wrong?”

“I do not make the rules Imperial Majesty. I am the rules.”

“I see. And this is your squire, we have not been introduced?”

“It is my honour to present my nephew. Varneir de Corrine.”

“Ah yes. Well, Varnier? We shall test your education. Who was the first knight of Toussaint?”

The young man paused for a moment. It was not lost on me, and I think that the Empress noticed as well, that he looked sidelong at his master for permission before he spoke.

“It is Impossible to say.” He said. “The Duchy was hauled from Barbarity by a union of warriors. No-one knows who they were before they became the warriors of Toussaint. When asked, none of them would remove their helms from view. It wasn't until the seven of them had died and the oaths that had bound their wives, children and grand-children to secrecy had been rendered moot, that it was admitted that one of them had gathered the others together. Which one this was no-one knew but it was claimed that he was fleeing from his enemies when he took shelter on the shore of a lake. He was given a vision of the Lady of the Lake who gave him the first tenets of knighthood.”

“Very Good.” The Empress applauded a little ironically. “It may be that you are not completely beyond redemption after all and that some measure of you may be salvaged. Tell me, what were the first tenets of knighthood?”

“Duty,” he said after a long while looking terrified. “Humility, charity, Compassion, honesty, mercy, respect and Kindness.” He looked as though he was trying to edge away from his master without actually moving.

“Interesting.” The Empress said. “Not quite true as you have invented some that were only valid in certain circles and missed out a couple more that were deemed unsavoury and outdated. For instance, the keeping of Toussaint for true men of Toussaint which, with the migration of populations and inter marrying across borders meant that Toussaint would now be deserted. Also there was Piety and Chastity. But those rules were relaxed so that the noble class didn't just disappear due to lack of children.”

She stood in front of the poor young man. I found a sympathy for him then as I began to realise what had happened. He was as much a victim of his master as anyone and had been filled with wrong headed ideas. He looked as though he was heartily wishing that the ground would open up underneath him. The Empress appeared to consider him the young man for a moment.

“I have decided, young master Varnier, that you are not without hope.” She moved to the table where she selected one of the pieces of paper that had been laid out for her. “You will report to Sir Thomas of the Imperial Guard. The young man is newly appointed to his knighthood and needs to start training up his own squire. I think you will do well under his tutelage.”

The newly made Squire Varnier to the Imperial Guard paled and looked up at his former master.

“Sir Thomas.” The Empress called.

The young man stepped out from the crowd.

“Thank you your Majesty.” he said. I felt my mouth fall open as I realised that Thomas had asked for this. “I see much of myself in this young man. I feel sure I can get through to the quality beneath the filth that he has been encrusted with.”

“Excellent Thomas. Your kindness will be remembered. Perhaps you could take your new squire away. There is enough pity in me that he should not be forced to see what is to happen next.”

“Yes Your Majesty. Thank you Your Majesty.” In two strides Sir Thomas was next to his new squire. He gripped Varnier by the ear and snarled. “Now bow before the Empress.” He hissed with venom.

Varnier did so, Thomas still holding the squire's ear in a death grip.

“Now say, “Thank you Your Majesty”,”

Varnier managed it on his third attempt despite much stammering.

Sir Thomas bowed again and led a whimpering Varnier through the nobility and out the door.