Interlude - Hope I (Patreon)

The Return

On the wind I hear you calling

From the ocean far away

Whispered as the light is falling

You gently call my name

-First Verse,  Anthem of the Blightwych

Four Weeks after leaving Swanbrook

Some say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Clearly, those people did not know Ser Gisele Devereaux. As she gazed at the sight of the busy port in the distance, she was overwhelmed with a sense of anxiety and existential dread.

That or I ate some bad meat.

Perhaps it was the thought of what awaited her upon her return, or maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever the reason, the idea of being back home was not a comforting one for Gisele.

As the merchant ship that she and her fellow knights were aboard sailed ever closer to the island kingdom of Blightwych, the feeling of unease only grew stronger.

They had left, exiled in all but name.

She glanced over at Ismeld, her closest friend in life, and from the expression on her face, knew that she felt the same. Her state of mind was far from positive as she neared the end of her journey, returning home with news about their new reality. Despite the popular saying, absence hadn’t made her heart grow fonder, but rather it had filled her with a sense of apprehension and discomfort.

Her return to her homeland was like a turbulent and relentless tide, dragging her unwillingly back to a place she had long wished to escape from.

“How are you two faring?” came a voice, deep and resonant, from behind them. The speaker, Cristole, did not need to announce his presence further; both women recognized their friend instantly. He joined Gisele and leaned casually against the railing of the ship’s bow, his eyes surveying the familiar contours of their homeland ahead of them.

Ismeld quietly confided her uncertainty. “I don’t know what my next steps are,” she admitted. “It’s been so long, and… returning to the lives we left seems… too much.”

Gisele shared a knowing look with Cristole before closing the distance between herself and Ismeld, her arm wrapping around her friend in a comforting embrace. “You’re not bound to the past,” Gisele reassured her. “We have new purposes now. Let’s inform your grandfather and the others of what we learned. After that, our priority is aiding Sloane. We’re an Order. We do not have to go back to that life, Issy.”

Ismeld nodded in agreement, a tinge of nostalgia in her voice. “You know, I didn’t realize I’d miss her this much.”

Their contemplative moment was punctuated by a buoyant voice from behind. “Miss who?” Maud asked, her arrival marked by a playful gasp. “Does the esteemed Ismeld actually miss Sloane?” Her laughter, light and infectious, filled the air as she nestled close to Ismeld, playfully nudging her. “I miss her too, Issy.”

Ismeld’s response was a soft huff, a blend of amusement and exasperation.

Gisele’s curiosity turned towards their absent friend. “How do you suppose Sloane is faring? She doesn’t have us to help her along,” she inquired, withdrawing her arm from around Ismeld.

Cristole chuckled. “Knowing her, she’s probably stirring up trouble already. But she’s not alone; Nemura and Stefan are with her. They’re competent, and Nemura, well, she’ll keep her on a straight path.”

Maud’s laughter erupted anew at the thought. Gisele, sensing Maud’s amusement, couldn’t help but scowl, even though she knew it would be felt more than seen. “What’s so amusing?” she pressed.

“Nemura keeping Sloane in check? Oh, you dear, naive souls,” Maud teased.

Ismeld turned her gaze from Gisele to Maud and tilted her head slightly to the side. It was the little tell that she was deep in thought and realizing something that was likely only clear in hindsight. “Oh, I see. Yes, that does make sense.”

Gisele’s frown deepened, a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing at all!” Maud replied, her voice a chirp of innocence.

A brief silence settled over them, each lost in their thoughts. Gisele’s mind wandered to Derek, wondering about his whereabouts. He had been increasingly involved with the ship's crew, preferring the bustle of activity. The man wasn’t really one to sit around and do nothing as it would send him a bit stir crazy.

Maud had come through again, distracting them all from their pensive moods. Gisele couldn’t help but smile, appreciative of Maud’s unwavering ability to uplift them.

She was such a gem.

“Well, I think I’ll take the lead on this one, Issy,” Gisele declared to her friend, her voice firm yet gentle. “At least until we meet with your grandfather.”

Ismeld eyed her cautiously. “Are you certain? You don’t typically enjoy—”

Gisele placed her hand reassuringly over Ismeld’s. “I’ll handle it. Focus on planning for Sloane’s needs. She'll require a proper House here, and don’t forget about the center you promised her.”

Ismeld winced at the reminder. “Right. Why did I agree to that again?”

Gisele smiled softly. “Because she’s your friend, and friends help each other, even when it means dealing with a menace like her.”

Ismeld sighed, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yes, you’re right. That human’s a handful, but she’s our handful.”

Gisele's laughter was soft, filled with warmth as she observed Ismeld. Her friend had always been guarded, not one to form bonds easily. Yet, witnessing this tender side of Ismeld, one that emerged in the presence of trusted companions, filled Gisele's heart with a deep sense of affection. Ismeld thrived when surrounded by those who cared for her, even if she struggled to articulate her feelings in return.

Breaking the moment, Maud, ever the master of deftly steering conversations, posed a question with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Do you think Ernald has tied the knot by now?”

Cristole, joining in the speculation, added, “If I were to guess, he’s more than likely just betrothed.” Gisele noticed him casting a meaningful glance towards Ismeld. “Those two really love each other.” It didn’t seem as if he were talking about Ernald in that moment, but then he continued, “They shared a bond that was truly heartwarming and I'm genuinely happy Ernald found his joy with Adaega.”

At the mention of love, Maud emitted her characteristic, dreamy sigh—a sound that betrayed her hopelessly romantic soul. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? That he found someone as remarkable as Adaega. She’s the perfect match for our scholarly friend.”

Gisele found herself nodding in agreement.

The conversation shifted as Cristole inquired, “Has anyone seen Derek?”

“I thought you’d know where—”

Before the query could be answered, a voice interjected, “I am here.”

Gisele, startled, turned to find Derek materializing seemingly out of nowhere behind them. “By the Family, Derek! We’ve talked about this,” she exclaimed, a mix of surprise and admonishment in her tone.

Derek merely tilted his head and shrugged, then moved to stand alongside Cristole. He leaned slightly over the ship's railing, his gaze fixating on the distant shores of their homeland. “We’re home,” he stated simply, his words sparse yet laden with meaning.

Gisele sighed, a smile tugging at her lips as she regarded Derek. His brevity in words was as much a part of him as his steadfast presence. “Indeed, we are. And our tasks ahead are many. I trust you’re all prepared.”

Maud, radiating confidence, chimed in. “Hope? No, there’s no need for all that. We can do anything.”

Gisele's smile broadened as she looked around at her companions. They were five friends, five knights. Although their number was one less than when they had departed, their journey had forged them anew. They had returned not just as bearers of knowledge vital to their homeland, but as harbingers of change.

Maud's words echoed in Gisele’s mind. They, the Knights of Haven's Hope, didn't just cling to hope. They were its embodiment, its bringers. In their unity and resolve, they were the living, breathing essence of the hope they sought to instill in others.

And they were home.

✦     ✦     ✦

The gangplank creaked gently under Gisele's boots as she descended, her steps measured and resolute. She set foot on the bustling port of Arginwych, a place she hadn't tread in far too many years. Behind her, her comrades, fellow knights and friends, followed in a steady procession, each step marking their long-awaited return.

The port of Blightwych’s capital was a tapestry of vibrant activity and color. Merchants hawked their wares with boisterous calls, while dockworkers maneuvered through the crowds, unloading goods from a myriad of ships. The air was thick with the scent of salt and fish, mingling with the more exotic aromas of spices and foreign delicacies brought in from all along the mainland.

The wooden docks were worn smooth by countless feet, and the buildings—a mixture of stone and wood—stood tall, their facades weathered by sea winds. Flags bearing the royal crest fluttered atop the masts of docked ships, their turquoise, gold, and white colors a bright contrast against the blue sky.

As Gisele and her group made their way through the port, the noise seemed to crescendo around them. Fishermen haggled over the price of their daily catch, while seagulls cried overhead, circling in the hope of a stray morsel.

Reaching a checkpoint, the group's progress was momentarily halted. The guards, clad in uniforms of vibrant turquoise, the proud color of the royal house, stood with an air of authority. Their eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned the group as they approached.

One of the guards stepped forward, his posture rigid and professional. “State your business in Arginwych,” he demanded, his gaze lingering on Gisele and her armor.

Gisele met the guard's eyes squarely, a hint of a respectful nod in her posture. “We are the Knights of Haven’s Hope, returned home,” she stated, her voice clear and unwavering.

The guard’s expression shifted subtly, a mix of surprise and curiosity flickering in his eyes. He cast a quick glance at his fellow guards before his attention returned to the knights. With practiced efficiency, they presented their documents, which the guard scrutinized with due diligence. Upon satisfactory verification, his face broke into a smile.

“Very well,” he announced, stepping aside to clear their path. “Welcome home, ser knights. Eurielle smiles upon her children's safe return.”

Gisele acknowledged the guard's smile, a gesture echoing the traditional greeting extended to all who returned to the capital and its encompassing island of Eurielle. Yet, this time, those familiar words resonated with a newfound depth. They were more than mere formalities; they were an affirmation of their long-awaited homecoming, a harbinger of the restoration of their Honor. She responded with the customary reverence, her voice imbued with heartfelt gratitude, “And to her heart, we are bound. Thank you for your welcome, noble protector of these shores.”

With a nod from the guard, Gisele led her companions past the checkpoint. The city of Arginwych, with its cacophony of sights and sounds, welcomed them back into its embrace—an embrace they had not known for far too long, but one that felt familiar and right.

As Gisele and her companions passed beyond the port and its bustling docks, the streets of Arginwych’s capital city unfolded before them. It was midday, and the city was alive with the vibrant hum of daily life. Merchants called out from their stalls, advertising their wares, while children darted through the crowd, their laughter a bright counterpoint to the steady rhythm of city life.

The sunlight cast a warm glow over the city, highlighting the intricate carvings and statues that spoke of Arginwych's rich history and culture. The buildings that lined the street were a mix of ancient stone and newer constructions. The ground floor of almost every structure was adorned with banners and signs that sought to draw in customers for all sorts of businesses.

Maud glanced around with keen interest. “Should we stop for a meal? Or perhaps secure lodging for the day?” she inquired, her stomach evidently dictating part of her priorities. “I have to say, I am a bit hungry and I have sorely missed the food from here.”

Gisele, however, shook her head resolutely. “We cannot delay. We must first go to the palace,” she declared, her tone brooking no argument. “Our duty calls us there before all else. We should not be here until our Honor is restored.”

Cristole, walking alongside Maud, nodded in agreement. “Aye, the sooner we deliver our report, the better. The matters we carry are too significant for delay.”

As they continued through the streets, the knights attracted curious glances from the city’s inhabitants. Whispers and murmurs followed in their wake as the people speculated on the obvious group of knights. While knights weren’t uncommon within the kingdom, five walking together in their armor was a tad unusual.

Next to Gisele, Ismeld observed the reactions with a quiet, contemplative gaze. “It seems we are attracting a bit of attention,” she remarked, her voice low and filled with a bit of trepidation. “Do you think people recognize us?”

“Why would they recognize us?” Gisele replied. “We’re just random knights. There was no grand trial and we were not stationed here.”

“I suppose,” the woman said with a sigh. “My nerves must be getting the best of me.”

Gisele glanced behind herself at the other three, seeing Maud’s eyes drifting around with no shortage of longing and nostalgia. Catching Gisele’s eye, Cristole gave her a small smile of encouragement that she returned. They had… drifted slightly over the past year, and she didn’t really understand why. He still acted as her friend and confidante, but that closeness, the physicality that they had shared was a thing of the past. She found herself missing it at times.

Then she caught sight of Derek and couldn’t help but roll her eyes. The man was scanning the surroundings as if he was expecting them to be attacked at any moment. There was little chance of that in the middle of the capital, not to mention they were clearly armed knights—no one in their right mind would even attempt it.

A small smile formed on her face as the thought of Sloane flitted through her mind. Her friend would have made a joke about it and teased Derek until he cracked at least a smirk.

She shook her head as she held the laughter at bay, returning her attention back to the front, but not before seeing Ismeld’s lingering gaze.

“I really am happy to be home,” her friend whispered next to her as they stopped to let a carriage pass by.

“Me too, Issy. Me too.”

How often did Ismeld and I rush down these streets when we were younger? Running away from all of our responsibilities to find some tavern to eat greasy food and stale ale? Oh, all the trouble we got into.

It really was always just the two of us.

Gisele couldn’t even remember the times before Ismeld. The memories were so blurry and faded. It was a feeling that threatened to grip her now.

The familiar streets, though unchanged in their essence, felt different now, filtered through the lens of time and experience. Still, Gisele led the group with a confident stride, her mind returning to the task ahead.

It took a bit of time on foot, but as they neared the palace, the architecture grew more grandiose and even more familiar. The streets were wider here, the attire of those moving about their day more refined. They drew less stares and the air was filled with an intangible sense of importance. The palace itself loomed ahead, its imposing structure sitting atop a hill and the entirety of its front visible to all through the iron wrought fence that surrounded it.

At one time, the wall was large and made with defense in mind, that was changed when one of Ismeld’s ancestors wanted to be seen by the people, to show that their royal family was not afraid and were transparent. It was a place and a family she had been sworn to protect, one she was proud to.

And in a small way, she had sworn to do so through her best friend. To be by her side and protect her from this life. A life that neither of them had wanted.

Gisele’s resolve hardened. The palace was not just a destination; it was Ismeld’s home. She needed to take charge and get the two of them through this. While she loved her other friends, they were simply along for the ride at this point. Although, she would treasure the support she knew they’d shower her and Ismeld with.

That’s what true friends did; they loved and supported each other, and that was a bond all of them had forged through both the darkest and brightest of times.

As the group approached the gates of the palace, Ismeld gently patted Gisele on the shoulder. “I’ll ensure we make it through,” she offered,

Gisele, however, was resolute. “Let me try first,” she insisted firmly. Ismeld sighed but acquiesced, stepping back with a dramatic flourish as she signaled Gisele to proceed.

The knight-captain rolled her eyes, forcing herself to not fuss with her lip.

This is it.

The palace gates were guarded by sentinels in elaborate uniforms, halberds in hand, embodying the regal authority of the kingdom. As Gisele and her companions neared, one of the guards stepped forward so that his stance blocked their path.

Gisele addressed the guard with a respectful nod. “Good afternoon; I am Ser Gisele Devereaux, Knight-Captain of Haven’s Hope. We are here for an audience with the king,” she stated, trying to emphasize the importance of her request.

The guard consulted a list in his hand. He flipped through the parchment several times and even clarified her name before frowning. “I’m sorry, but your name isn’t on the schedule. I cannot grant you entry,” he replied politely.

Undeterred, Gisele tried again, trying to convey the seriousness of her request, but before she could fully assert their need, another guard approached.

“You may return during the next public court in two weeks,” the second guard interjected. “Until then, you will need to vacate the area.”

Gisele was about to invoke her status as a member of House Devereaux and the niece of Countess Devereaux, but Ismeld’s gentle touch on her shoulder halted her.

“Allow me, please,” Ismeld interjected softly but with a note of authority. Gisele ground her teeth together but nodded to her friend. Stepping forward, she addressed the guards with that forced mask that she hated oh so much. “I am Lady Ismeld d'Argin. I request that myself and my fellow members of the Order of Haven’s Hope gain admittance to my rightful home. It is imperative that we speak with His Majesty.”

The guards, upon hearing Ismeld’s declaration, exchanged a glance. “D-Do you have proof of your identity, Lady d’Argin?”

Cristole quickly pulled out a scroll from his satchel and stepped forward to hand it over. The guard looked it over, his eyebrows raising as he saw it. After a moment of consideration, he returned the scroll and stepped aside.

“Very well, Lady d’Argin. You and your companions may enter,” he said, his tone now laced with a newfound respect that Gisele found grating.

I shouldn’t have to hide behind my title or my friend… I… Ugh.

Ismeld stepped beside her as the gates opened before them. The second guard led them through and toward the front of the palace. Gisele’s friend bumped shoulders with her and leaned in to whisper, “Calm. I know what you’re trying to do and I appreciate it. As long as you stand at my side, I will be fine. I swear.”

“I just don’t want you to…”

“Gisele.”

Gisele let out a breath. “Very well. I will be here at your side, but I will give the report. It is my responsibility.”

“It is. I will get us in the door, you take the lead from there. But you and I both know that at some point, it will end with just the two of us before grandfather. The others will have to leave.”

“I know. That doesn’t worry me. I’ve known your grandfather for ages, you know.”

“Yes, and he adores you,” Ismeld said with a small chuckle. “Let’s do this.”

The guard escorting Gisele and her companions led them to the grand entrance, where the splendor of the palace architecture was truly revealed. Here, they were met by a telv servant girl who made her way to the guard.

The man exchanged a few hushed words with the servant, who quickly nodded, her gaze fixed on Ismeld with a mixture of awe and curiosity. With a polite nod, the guard wished them a good day and departed, leaving them in the care of the servant.

“Please, right this way, milady,” the servant girl beckoned, her voice a mix of reverence and excitement.

As they followed the servant girl into the opulent foyer of the palace, their path was briefly obstructed by a set of guards who, upon seeing the group's armaments, seemed poised to request they disarm before proceeding.

Gisele was prepared to comply, understanding the protocol within the palace walls. However, before anyone could voice the request, the servant girl swiftly intervened. She uttered something inaudible, casting a significant look towards Ismeld. The guards, upon catching the gesture, promptly waved them through without further question.

Sharing a glance with Ismeld, Gisele saw her friend roll her eyes in mild exasperation, an unspoken understanding and conversation passing between them.

This is going well. You’re doing great. You haven’t yelled at anyone yet. Gisele’s look told her friend.

But the responding look said otherwise. I’m about to fucking rage. This needs to hurry and we need to get a drink. All of the drinks. I need to be drunk.

Which Gisele took as a small victory. It was clear that Ismeld was doing much better than expected. Still, even she couldn’t wait until they could all leave and find a tavern to unwind in.

The servant girl, discreetly inquiring about the king's whereabouts from another attendant, led them unerringly towards the council chambers. Upon reaching the ornate doors, the girl whispered to one of the two royal guards stationed outside. The guard's eyes lingered on Ismeld, assessing her with a scrutinizing gaze, before he nodded and disappeared inside the chamber.

They stood there waiting with the servant girl stealing glances their way but without saying anything. The others were also standing quietly together with only the occasional whisper between them. They were politely giving both Ismeld and Gisele space, as they knew what all of this meant.

How being here was difficult for them, but mostly for Ismeld.

Gisele stood at her friend’s side, forcing herself to remain calm and collected. This was Ismeld’s home, but it was also the site of where she had almost taken the full blame of the incident at Havensway. But that wasn’t important right now. She had to be strong for Issy.

She could have her own internal panic attack if she ever had to visit her own family, and Gisele would definitely need to rely on her best friend’s support then.

The royal guard reemerged with an expression of respectful firmness. “Lady Ismeld may enter alone,” he announced.

Ismeld's response was immediate and defiant. She scoffed, her grip tightening around Gisele's hand. “She's coming too,” she stated, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The guard opened his mouth, likely to reiterate the protocol, but Ismeld was unyielding. “She's. Coming. Too.” Her words were deliberate, each one underscored with the authority of her status.

Which the guy thankfully didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to be using.

The guard faltered under the weight of her stare and the balance of power in the exchange palpably shifted. “Y-Yes, milady,” he conceded, stepping aside.

Issy looked at Gisele with a triumphant look on her face. See? I’m still a boss bitch.

Gisele rolled her eyes. Yeah, whatever. You sounded as bratty as you did when you were nine.

Ismeld narrowed her eyes for a moment, then huffed. I did not.

She looked back at the others. “Just relax, we’ll be back.”

Maud beamed as she gave them a thumbs up while Cristole just nodded. Derek looked bored.

Gisele turned back around and with her hand clasped firmly in Ismeld's, she took a deep breath to steady herself. The doors to the council chamber swung open, revealing the solemn interior. Heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and resolve, Gisele stepped through the threshold alongside Ismeld.

As they walked in, the assembled council members turned their attention towards them. Eyes—some curious, others calculating—followed their every move as they approached the center of the chamber. The weight of their gaze was heavier than the ship they arrived home on, and each member sat there, judging and quietly assessing the newcomers who dared disrupt the sanctity of their proceedings.

The king, Ismeld's grandfather, stood from his seat, his presence commanding immediate attention. Around the ornate table, important councilors, advisors, and nobles began muttering among themselves, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Gisele's eyes quickly found Lord Marcus, the very man whose machinations had driven them into self-imposed exile. His face was etched with a deep frown, his displeasure at their return unmistakable.

The king, an aged high elf with a dignified bearing, looked simultaneously surprised and overjoyed. “Ismeld? You're home,” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with emotion.

As Gisele began to kneel in a gesture of respect, her movement became an awkward half-hunch when the king bypassed formalities, stepping forward to embrace Ismeld in a heartfelt hug. Realizing the personal nature of the moment, Gisele straightened up and discreetly stepped back, affording them a moment of privacy.

“You're really back. What happened? Why? I thought…” the king's voice trailed off.

“Grandfather... Please, allow Gisele to explain,” Ismeld interjected gently.

The King of Blightwych turned his expectant gaze to Gisele. Composing herself, Gisele straightened her spine, her head dipped respectfully, and she saluted. “Your Majesty, the Knights of Haven's Hope have returned home. As Knight-Captain, it is my duty to request you hear my report on our deeds and what we have learned, and to determine whether we may regain our Honor.”

The king inhaled sharply. After a prolonged, tense silence, he turned to the assembled council. “We'll end there for today. Give us privacy,” he commanded.

Gisele watched as the council, including Lord Marcus, filed out of the chamber, leaving her and Ismeld alone with the king—or rather, with Ismeld's grandfather, because with the look on his face, she couldn’t see him as anything else.

“Come, both of you, please sit. It's been so long,” he beckoned, his voice softening.

As they took their seats on either side of the king, Gisele couldn't help but notice the changes time had wrought on the king. The handful of years had deepened the lines on his face, turning his blonde hair fully grey. Yet his eyes still held a spark of vitality, a flame that seemed to have been reignited by their return. It was clear that their departure had left a void, now filled by their unexpected homecoming.

“Now, tell me. What happened?” the king asked, his gaze fixed on Gisele with an air of earnest anticipation.

Gisele inhaled deeply, gathering her thoughts. “We went on a journey, but none of that is truly worth telling in this first meeting. What is important to you and the kingdom is what I must share about a remarkable woman from another world we encountered, and the revelations that followed from there,” she began.

She delved into the story of Sloane, weaving the tale of magic, mana, and the profound insights they had gained. Ismeld contributed to the narrative, interjecting at key moments, notably when she confessed to granting Sloane peerage. Her admission was joined with an apology, but to her relief, her grandfather responded with understanding, his hand reassuringly on hers as he expressed his approval.

The conversation evolved, rich in detail and depth. The king interjected with thoughtful questions, to which Ismeld and Gisele responded with the utmost candor and respect. When they reached the point of Ismeld's promise to Sloane, the king's support was unwavering. Gisele recognized the depth of his affection for Ismeld; his willingness to accommodate her requests spoke volumes of his grandfatherly love. Anyone else would likely have been denied.

Rising from his seat, the king approached Ismeld and enveloped her in another hug. Over Ismeld's shoulder, his eyes met Gisele's, conveying a depth of gratitude. “Thank you, Gisele. Thank you for taking care of my granddaughter. I am aware of her fondness for you and am deeply grateful for your steadfast support over the years.”

In his embrace, Ismeld squirmed as a protest escaped her lips. “Grandfather! Don't.”

Gisele looked into her friend’s eyes and smiled at the embarrassed look on her face. There was no reason to be embarrassed about a love as strong as between sisters, but Issy had always been one to avoid showing affection. At least to anyone but Gisele, and that was only in private.

The doting grandfather knew exactly what to say.

His chuckle was warm and affectionate. He placed a gentle kiss atop Ismeld's head before stepping back. “No matter your age, my little Issy, you will always be my precious granddaughter. I am proud of the woman you have become.”

At his words, Ismeld’s eyes glistened and she quickly averted her gaze.

The king then refocused on Gisele. “Knight-Captain, welcome home. Consider the Honor of your Order restored. We shall arrange a more thorough briefing soon. I am eager to witness the magic you've mastered, and Ismeld,” his eyes softened as he looked at her, “I would be grateful to see the tools crafted by this terran woman. Unbeknownst to you both, a storm looms on our horizon. Any advantage you can provide our kingdom will be crucial. I have great expectations for both of you.”

The king's faith in them, coupled with the acknowledgment of their journey and experiences, filled Gisele with a renewed sense of purpose. They were home, and with their return, they brought not just tales of adventure, but tools and knowledge that could shape the future of Blightwych in the face of impending trials.

“Now, I assume neither of you have a desire to stay within the palace?” he inquired, the twinkle in his eye betraying his amusement.

Ismeld was swift to respond, her tone decisive. “Not at all. We'll seek lodgings elsewhere, though I admit there are a few… faces here I would not mind seeing again. But an inn will suit us just fine. We've resources enough to manage.”

His attention then shifted to Gisele. “And what of you, Gisele? Will you visit your family?”

Gisele hesitated for a moment. “It’s not something I yearn for, yet it seems unavoidable,” she conceded.

The King of Blightwych’s chuckle resonated warmly in the room. “Your aunt holds you in high regard, Gisele. Perhaps more than you realize. She staunchly defended you after the Havensway incident.”

Gisele opened her mouth to respond, but a glance at Ismeld’s expression gave her pause. Instead, she exhaled a resigned sigh and nodded in agreement.

The meeting with the king concluded on a note of mutual understanding, love, and respect. The two knights, accompanied by the monarch’s good wishes, exited the council chambers. Outside, they found their three companions—Cristole, Maud, and Derek—casually leaning against the wall. The trio appeared engaged in light conversation with the royal guards, a scene that brought a semblance of normalcy to the weight of their recent audience.

Gisele observed the group, a small smile playing on her lips. “Let’s find an inn. We’re finally home.”