The War of Six Crowns: The Vanished Knight

An Almost Peaceful Moment

Gawain entered Darrion's rooms with the barest of knocks and went to the spacious living area. According to most of the five families leading Nordaine's houses, Darrion should have been stationed in the officers' wing. But Gawain's mother would never have allowed it. Not when she treated Darrion like another son. He lived in the Gawain family corridor, right next to Gawain's apartment. The place of honor was still a bone of contention between Miria, Gawain, and his grandfather the Murion.

Darrion sat in his favorite seat, a pensive frown on his face. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes told Gawain exactly what he needed to know.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asked.

Darrion stood without a word and made his way to the drinks table. He poured mulnich into two glasses, spreading its rich, intoxicating scent through the room. Gawain took his and sank down into the ebony leather chair opposite Darrion's. His friend fell into his and leaned back, eyes closed. Not a drop of liquid spilled.

"Still nothing from the Knight?" Darrion asked, and took a long sip. His expression turned blissful.

Gawain shook his head, his concern returning. "No. No one's heard a thing."

Darrion saluted him with his glass and drank from it. "I spoke to the Waernich."

"And?"

Darrion sneered. "And he was his usual irksome self."

"But not guilty of treason."

"No," Darrion said, sounding almost regretful. "Arrogant. Cowardly. Out after his interests even at his own son's cost." He took a long sip. "But not a traitor to his King."

"Quin then?" Gawain watched him.

Darrion shook his head. "He was the assigned commander of the guard."

"So it could be him?"

"And lose a chance at the crown? If it's him, he'd have shown up by now."

True. Gawain frowned. "So what now?"

Darrion stared at the rich amber liquid in his glass. "I'm working on it."

Gawain leaned back in his seat, pressing his neck against the pillows behind. "I'd give my left arm to know why Lorcan left. What could possibly entice him away from his duties here?"

If they knew, they could at least have a starting place in their search. As it was, they were stuck in Sylmion.

"Yes... If only..." Darrion frowned.

Gawain relaxed just a tad, but prepared himself for a big battle certain to follow his next words.

"By the by," he ventured, "we're going on a hunt."

"You can't be serious," Darrion protested.

"Sorry, but I am."

"With whom?"

"Everyone," he said, in an airy parody of the Nordian nobility. The five families' power and influence almost rivaled their egos.

Darrion grimaced. "Please send them my humble regards." He held his drink up to the brightening daylight, bringing out the liquid's amber glow.

Gawain snorted into his glass and drank, despite the fact that it was barely past dawn. Everyone knew Darrion held none of the five lords in any esteem. He wasn't quiet in his disdain, either. And they hated him.

Darrion's dark smile faded when Gawain shook his head.

"You can tell them yourself," Gawain said, doing his best not to show his unease.