Caldus shut the door firmly behind them, the heavy oak settling into its frame with a conclusive thud. The private dining room was small but serviceable, a single rectangular table surrounded by benches, a smaller hearth than the one in the common room, and a narrow window overlooking an alley. Two knights already occupied opposite corners, their expressions impassive but alert.

  He gestured for Lynara to sit, then paced a few steps, gathering his thoughts. The mission had barely begun, and already complications were mounting. Pope Urban's instructions had been clear: escort the Sverdish noblewoman to the Holy See with minimal incident. A straightforward diplomatic task that he had initially resented being assigned.

  Knight Commanders don't play nursemaid to foreign dignitaries. Not when there are more pressing matters.

  But then he'd read the accompanying sealed letter: details about the Sverdish royal family's recent bloody coup, rumors of forbidden magic practiced in their isles, and whispers that this Lady Brahe might possess valuable intelligence about practices that threatened the Federation's spiritual security.

  Now he found himself responsible for a woman who couldn't even enter an inn without creating a diplomatic incident.

  "Sit," he said, more command than invitation.

  Lynara complied with the perfect posture of nobility, her movements fluid and precise. Too precise, he noted. Every gesture looking rehearsed.

  "Your gesture," Caldus began, his voice low and measured, "is known throughout Vellano as the Sverdish Mockery. Do you understand what you've done?"

  She blinked up at him, eyes wide with what appeared to be genuine confusion. "Truly, I meant no offense. In the court of my father..." she paused, pain flickering across her features at the mention of the deposed king, "—such a gesture signifies gratitude to those who provide service."

  His armor hummed against his skin, the enchantments confirming her emotional response as genuine. Yet something whispered against his instincts, not a warning exactly, but a hesitation. Caldus frowned, pushing the feeling aside.

  "In Rothaven, that gesture is how Sverdish raiders salute their captains after a successful pillage," Caldus explained, watching her reaction carefully. "It's been witnessed by survivors hiding in burning homes and fishermen who escaped slaughter. The last time it was seen here, twenty-seven families lost fathers and sons."

  "I... I had no idea." Her voice trembled with the pitch and cadence of mortification. "How terrible. I would never intentionally evoke such painful memories."

  Caldus studied her face. His training told him to trust the emotional readings from his armor, the specialized enchantments had never failed him before. They detected genuine distress from the woman. And yet.

  "This presents a problem," he said, changing tactics. "Word will spread. By morning, half of Rothaven will know a Sverdish noble walks among them. We'll need to depart earlier than planned."

  "I understand," she replied, hands folded demurely in her lap. "What would you have me do in the meantime?"

  "Learn." Caldus sat opposite her, placing his sword on the table between them, not as a threat, but as a reminder of his authority. "If you're to survive this journey, you must understand Federation customs. One mistake like this in the wrong place could incite a mob, and even my knights cannot fight an entire town."

  "Then teach me," she said, leaning forward with an expression of earnest attention. "I am... unfamiliar with much of your culture. My education focused primarily on Federation political structures, not daily customs."

  Interesting admission, Caldus thought. Most nobles would be loath to confess ignorance of any kind.

  "We'll begin with basic etiquette," he said. "In the Federation, particularly in Vellano, there are gestures and phrases to avoid. The Sverdish Mockery is merely one. There's also—"

  A sharp knock interrupted him. Ser Markus entered without waiting for permission, his expression grim.

  "Commander, there's movement in the street. A gathering of locals. The innkeeper's wife was seen leaving through the back shortly after our arrival."

  Caldus rose immediately. "Numbers?"

  "Fifteen, maybe twenty. Growing."

  "Armed?"

  "Farm implements. Nothing serious yet."

  Lynara remained seated, her posture unchanged save for a slight tension in her shoulders. "This is my fault."

  "Yes," Caldus agreed bluntly, adding a beat later: "But assigning blame won't disperse that crowd. Ser Markus, prepare the men. We leave within the hour."

  As the knight departed, Caldus turned back to Lynara, his expression hardening. "This is the first lesson, Lady Brahe. In the Federation, actions have consequences. Your gesture may have seemed innocent to you, but to these people, it represents generations of hatred and bloodshed. Remember that."

  "I will," she promised, her voice soft but steady.

  His armor confirmed.

  What troubled Caldus was not her sincerity in this moment, but the strange gleam he thought he glimpsed in her eyes when she believed he wasn't looking.

  They departed Rothaven under cover of darkness, slipping out through the inn's stables while Ser Donnel created a diversion near the front entrance. The crowd had grown to nearly fifty townspeople, armed with torches and tools, their angry voices carrying on the night air.

  Caldus led Lynara by the elbow, moving swiftly through narrow alleys away from the main thoroughfare and towards the secondary rendezvous point. The rest of his knights formed a protective perimeter, armor concealed beneath dark cloaks. They'd abandoned the original plan for horses and carriages; those would have to be acquired elsewhere, his men would bring them as needed.

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  "Keep your head down," he murmured as they passed beneath a street lamp. "And for God's sake, don't speak to anyone."

  She nodded, perfectly compliant, her steps matching his pace without difficulty.

  Once beyond the town's edge, they continued along the coastal road for several miles before Caldus finally called a halt in a small copse of trees overlooking the sea, a small dock sitting nearby where an old ferryman would pass come morning. The knights immediately established a defensive perimeter, moving with the practiced efficiency of men who'd done this countless times before.

  Caldus directed Lynara to a fallen log and stood before her, arms crossed.

  "That could have ended much worse," he said, his voice deliberately controlled. "In the future, you will observe and mimic my behavior. You will not initiate conversation with locals. You will not make gestures of any kind. Is that understood?"

  In the moonlight, her face was cast in silver and shadow, making her expression difficult to read. But his armor detected no resentment at his tone, only a strange blend of curiosity and... Admiration?

  "Perfectly understood, Ser Knight," she replied. "Though I must wonder, how am I to learn your customs if I'm forbidden from interacting with your people?"

  The question was reasonable, yet something in her tone made him uneasy.

  "You'll learn from me," he said after a moment's consideration. "Each evening, we'll review the customs and protocols you'll need for the following day. It's not ideal, but it's safer than allowing you to learn through potentially disastrous trial and error."

  "You would take on the role of tutor?" she asked, surprise coloring her voice. "Surely a Knight Commander has more pressing duties."

  Caldus frowned. "My duty is to deliver you safely to the Holy See. If preventing diplomatic incidents requires teaching you our ways, then that's what I'll do."

  She bowed her head in acknowledgment, but not before he caught the slight curve of her lips, not quite a smile, but something adjacent to satisfaction.

  "Then I place myself in your capable hands, Ser Knight," she said. "When shall we begin?"

  "Now," he replied, settling onto a rock opposite her. "Lesson one: In the Federation, especially in Vellano, never approach another person with your palms hidden. It suggests concealed weapons or magic."

  She nodded, absorbing the information with intense focus. "And what is the proper way to express gratitude to someone of lower station?"

  "A simple nod will suffice. For equals, a brief incline of the head. For superiors, the depth of the bow indicates the degree of respect."

  "Like this?" She demonstrated, the movement almost perfect.

  "Yes, just a few degrees less." he confirmed, watching her carefully. "Now, show me how you would greet a member of the clergy."

  For over an hour, they continued—Caldus demonstrating, Lynara mimicking with nearly uncanny precison, her mistakes almost... Deliberate? Her ability to absorb and reproduce the subtle variations of Federation etiquette was impressively unsettling. No matter how complex the gesture or nuanced the explanation, she required only a single demonstration and correction.

  "You're a quick study," he remarked as they concluded the impromptu lesson.

  "I've always had a gift for observation," she replied modestly, though a lightning fast furrow in her left brow spoke of bewilderment.

  Why?

  "And I've had... considerable practice adapting to new circumstances."

  Something in her phrasing caught his attention. "Is that so? I was given to understand you rarely left the Sverdish court before now."

  A flicker of something, too brief to identify, crossed her features. "The court itself is ever-changing, Ser Knight. New ambassadors, new customs, new alliances. Adaptation is survival."

  His armor registered nothing but truth in her words, yet the explanation felt incomplete. Before he could probe further, Ser Tomas approached with news that they'd secured a small fishing boat to carry them down the coast. They would bypass Rothaven entirely and make landfall at a smaller port more amenable to their presence.

  As they prepared to move out, Caldus found himself studying Lynara's profile in the moonlight. She was, without question, more than she appeared.

  Lynara turned suddenly, catching his gaze. She offered a perfect Aurestian style half bow, exactly as he had taught her.

  "Have I misunderstood something, Ser Knight?" she asked, her voice a careful blend of deference and genuine inquiry.

  "No," he replied, his hand unconsciously drifting to the hilt of his sword. "You perform admirably."

  Perhaps too admirably, he thought, but kept that observation to himself.

  As they departed the temporary camp, Caldus positioned himself where he could observe her without being obvious. In his twenty years of service to the Order, he had developed an instinct for threats that transcended even the emotional readings of his enchanted armor.

  And every instinct he possessed was screaming that Anya Brahe was not what she claimed to be.

  By dawn, they were well away from Rothaven, the fishing boat cutting through the cold waters of the northern coast. Lynara stood at the bow, her face turned into the salt spray, seemingly unbothered by the bitter cold that had the knights huddled in their cloaks.

  Caldus joined her, noting how she didn't startle at his approach despite his deliberately silent steps.

  "You should rest," he said. "The journey ahead remains long."

  "I find the sea invigorating," she replied without turning. "It reminds me of home."

  "You miss it?" The question surprised even him, personal inquiries were not part of his usual approach.

  She was quiet for so long that he thought she might not answer. When she finally spoke, her voice carried a weight he hadn't heard before.

  "I miss what it was," she said. "Before the coup. Before my brother became..." She trailed off, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

  His armor detected genuine grief then, a sharp, clean pain that felt authentic in a way her other emotions had not.

  "The Federation received reports of your brother's ascension," Caldus said carefully. "The circumstances were... unclear."

  "He murdered our father," she said simply. "Flayed him alive and took his skin as a cloak of office. It's our tradition when power changes hands. But there was no challenge issued, no formal declaration. Just... betrayal."

  Truth, confirmed his armor, and Caldus found himself momentarily speechless. The barbarity of Sverdish succession was known in theory, but hearing it described so dispassionately by one who had witnessed it was disturbing.

  "And yet he spared you," Caldus observed.

  Her smile was thin and bitter. "Spared is not the word I would choose, Ser Knight. He found a use for me. As you have."

  The comparison startled him. "The Order of Simon serves God and the Federation. We do not use people."

  "Don't you?" She turned to face him fully, and in the pale dawn light, her eyes seemed older somehow, tired. "I am a tool to you, Ser Knight. A diplomatic package to be delivered. The difference is only in how we're wielded."

  Her assessment was uncomfortably correct.

  "If you're a tool," he said eventually, "then you're one that requires extraordinary care in handling."

  That drew a genuine laugh from her, a sound so unexpected and human that it momentarily disarmed him.

  "Well said," she acknowledged. "And you're right, of course. I should rest."

  As she moved to pass him, she paused briefly. "Thank you for the lesson last night, Ser Knight. I will strive to be a less troublesome charge."

  "See that you do," he replied, his tone only half as clipped as usual.

  Watching her descend below deck, Caldus felt a troubling uncertainty. His mission was clear: deliver Lady Brahe to the Holy See, where others would determine her value to Federation interests and she played at diplomancy. His role was protective, not investigative.

  And yet.

  There was something about Anya Brahe that demanded investigation. Something wrong in her gaze, something calculated in her movements. Something that made him question whether his enchanted armor was functioning correctly when in her presence.

  Caldus turned back to the sea, his thoughts churning like the waves against the hull. For now, he would continue as ordered. But he would watch. And wait.