The rain upgrades from stinging mist to pouring as the knights move out. There are about twenty of them, the Casmenoc’s best and brightest. And Irenis. She rides off to the side, where she can watch her back and not get in the knights’ way.

The knights are led by Sir Gurstel, who has been the lead knight for as long as Irenis can remember. He was the battlemaster before Master Calon was hired. His aurawork is good, his family is a baron whose work and honor are impeccable, and he looks the part of the grand knight.

It’s so unfortunate, then, that he constantly spews crass chatter.

“And then this pretty piece of ass walks up in the most ridiculous outfit, it was a bright red corset with nothing over it and barely a shift underneath, and she has the gall to tell me I’ve had enough to drink! The nerve! Maybe her delicate constitution couldn’t take more than a sip of alcohol, but I—”

The other knights are for the most part silent. They look away from Gurstel or keep their eyes straight ahead. There are a few, though, who crowd closer and cackle at his stories. They would all look quite charming if their lecherous cheer didn’t twist their faces so cruelly. Irenis marks them down to keep an eye out for them.

Lowegan laughs loudest of all. His constant laughter gets grating after a little while, if only because of the nature of his amusement. He never seems to have much else to add.

Bratan and Datyn, twins who are close to the point of sharing a horse, always have something to add, whether it be a suggestion of what to do with the women in these stories or just crude sound effects.

Asnathe, the only woman in this little clique, laughs along loudly and declares these women to be weakly, slutty, or both. The group seems to have accepted her; certainly they never make crude comments on her bottom or breasts, like they do the women back home.

The few female knights in the group all drop back behind Gurstel and his clique by midday. Irenis is grateful for the protection they even accidentally provide. She doesn’t know what she’d do if Gurstel started to make fun of the fact she needs no corset yet, or that her arms are far too muscular for a proper lady. At least this way he can’t really see her.

One of the male knights also drops back. Sir Jacryn, the man with light blue hair, has put it up in a neat braid that barely escapes his helmet. Irenis nudges Midge and rides up next to Sir Jacryn. “I like your hair.”

He puts a hand up to his helmet, then smiles down at her. “Thank you, my lady. I put quite a lot of effort into it.”

Lowegan’s laugh rings out again, interrupting Jacryn’s next sentence. He glares up at the head of their party, then shakes his head.

Irenis shifts in her saddle. “It always amazes me how well proper styles for long hair disguise the length that is necessary to construct them.”

Sir Jacryn hums. “Do you know, I’d never thought about that.”

Irenis fidgets with some of Midge’s mane. “I, um, I would look at my hair in the mirror a lot, when Grand… when the margravine and her sister-in-law were dressing me up for a party.” Sent away. The words create an empty pit in Irenis’s stomach. “It was almost fun to watch my hair disappear.”

“Mm.” Sir Jacryn grants her a small smile. “I see. I never look in a mirror if I can help it. I’ve only got my shaving mirror with me right now.”

Sir Gurstel calls back, “Yeah, right, you dandy!”

Sir Jacryn sends back a truly frightening glare.

Irenis offers, twisting her reins in her hands, “I could braid your hair for you before sparring? I know that shaving mirrors are far too small to work on hair.”

“I would greatly appreciate that. Thank you, my lady.”

Bratan yells back, “Ooh, does Jacryn want to look like a pretty pretty princess?” Datyn cackles and makes kissy noises.

Jacryn looks at the sky, then rejoinders, “And yet this princess won’t fuck you—um. Sorry, my lady.”

Irenis snickers. “I know the fuck word. I was just never allowed to say it.”

The twins, meanwhile, are loudly decrying being pansies. Jacryn rolls his eyes. “So, my lady, what food would you like when we stop to hunt tonight?”

Irenis blinks up at him. “I’m not a lady. And, um, I guess just whatever you guys are having?” I was never a lady. I was just stupid, bad Irenis.

“Very well. We’re not scheduled to sleep in a town until the night after tomorrow, so tonight’s supper will be flame braised hare seasoned with dill, saffron, and nutmeg—”

Irenis giggles. “You don’t put nutmeg on meat, do you? It’s a sweet spice!”

“A little nutmeg can be part of an excellent chicken gravy. But you’re right, too much nutmeg will overwhelm the taste of the meat and not mesh.”

Irenis nods. “I thought so. I’ve had hot chocolate with nutmeg once. It was good.”

“Really? What was the occasion?”

“Um, one Winternight, Bleiryn threw a fit because his hot chocolate was too cold, and one of the maids managed to sneak his rejected mug to me.”

Sir Gurstel calls back, “Real men eat their rabbits straight off the spit and like it!” Lowegan cackles behind him.

Sir Jacryn snorts. “I would point out that you are in no sense a man, and I was in fact talking to you, but I don’t wish to draw his attention over here.”

“Thank you. I don’t want his attention either.” Irenis swallows. “I’ve never had rabbit. Is it good?”

“It’s meat. I like it better than dry turkey. It all depends on how it’s cooked.”

Asnathe turns around to yell, “Isn’t that women’s work?”

Sir Jacryn leans forward to rest his forehead on his horse’s neck. Then he sits up to call back, “Do you have a problem!? Is that why you keep getting my attention? Or do you have a crush on me?”

The leaders immediately all start falling over each other to deny any such thing and Sir Jacryn shakes his head. “My lady, you will notice that our frontrunners are idiots. Ignore them at your leisure.”

“I’m not a lady.”

“You did say that. My apologies.”

A large leaf blows across the road and Midge rears. Irenis flings her arms about Midge’s neck and holds on for dear life.

Sir Jacryn grabs Midge’s halter. “Whoa, girl! Whoa. It’s just a leaf. My—um, Irenis, when calming a horse, it’s important to keep your voice steady and calm. They can’t understand more than commands, so if you panic, they think there’s a reason to panic. However, if you stay calm, they trust you and calm down.”

Irenis holds onto Midge’s neck until she feels safer about letting go. “Okay. I’ll remember that, thank you.”

Midge stops rearing and snorts a bit before deciding that everything’s all right. Sir Jacryn pats her neck. “Did Battlemaster Calon teach you to ride a horse?”

Irenis fidgets with a bit of Midge’s mane. “He did.”

“I’m glad he did. Horsemanship is a very important skill for any warrior.” Sir Jacryn nudges his horse along and Irenis quickly nudges Midge to follow him. “Cavalry is one of the most effective units on the battlefield.”

“Really?” Irenis bites her lip. “Doesn’t that mean that cavalry is targeted often?”

“It does. But the advantage of the high ground—or, if you’ll pardon a pun, high horse—is such that a mounted soldier can often take out attackers before being pulled down.”

Irenis giggles at the pun and takes note of that.

They continue to travel, exiting the small wood that marks the boundary of Vergrim and aiming east toward the farming settlements and the Mantegri river. About an hour past noon, they encounter the King’s Road, an imperial road that connects all the continent. From the coastal southern duchy to the harsh cliffs of the northern duchy and the shining imperial capital, all major trade centers and noble holdings have roads that eventually lead onto the King’s Road.

As night falls, they come upon a small shelter a short distance from the road. Sir Gurstel and his friends immediately decry its use, but Irenis is hungry and her stomach hurts. She sneaks some jerky while they’re setting up their tents. Maybe she can sleep in here and then no one will make fun of her—

“Bastard! Get out here and set up your own tent!”

Or not.

Irenis gets her tent down off the packhorse (which also tries to eat her hair) and sets it on the ground. Then she steps back to look at how the other knights have done it. A soggy piece of hair flops into her eyes.

The idiots start to snicker as Irenis stares at her tent. The other knights start sidling off to go hunt. Irenis swallows the lump in her throat.

“Really.” Sir Jacryn comes out of the woods with a brace of rabbits. “Where is your honor? Irenis, let me put these in the shelter and I’ll help you with that. It’s your first time camping, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sir Jacryn teaches her how to put up a tent. Then he teaches her how to brush a horse and how to roast meat over a fire (the idiots stop decrying the shelter once there’s a fire going). Irenis sits with her back to the flames and her hair down, and by the time she gets into her tent it’s almost dry. The rabbit didn’t have spices beyond salt on it, but it was good nonetheless, and her stomach is full. She cuddles up in her sleeping bag and closes her eyes.

She wakes some time later, disoriented and needing to pee. Irenis peels herself out of her bedroll and leaves her tent to find the latrine.

Her foot hits something and she trips over a body.