The Kingdom of Belmar

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Philip was much too eager when he offered to spar with Grace. If anyone were to look at the two without knowing them personally, they would not easily assume the outcome of this match. Unfortunately, I do know Grace, and this little knowledge has led to me to bet against Philip. Percival and Geoffrey, on the other hand, weren't granted such a luxury. In only a few minutes, Philip is lying on the ground with more bruises on his body than he started with, and I am 20 gold pieces richer.

It's only been a month since the Sonna Festival, and despite our busy schedules that almost never allow us to meet like this, we have an unspoken agreement to support each other as we're the fresh recruits. Geoffrey has started to become more accustomed to our presence, acting as wild and irrational as Philip in some instances. Seeing him laugh so openly at Philip's battered body is a testament to how comfortable he's become around us.

My heart sinks at the idea of these wonderful people being left at Lambhurst while Queen Rista storms the palace with Prince Tristen's faction, but how would I explain it to them? How could I even warn them?

The only one not laughing at Philip's pain is Percival. I've rarely seen him smile, and this moment is no different. I just wish I could tell if he was a stoic person or if he simply does not like our company.

"Alright, who's next?" Grace asks, setting her sword on her shoulder. "It seemed as though the boys were awfully eager to side against me. The only one safe from my wrath right now is Amy." She drops a foot on Philip's chest, pushing out a shallow breath of air from his lungs. The way he wheezes makes me think of an instrument, and Grace is the musician.

"Is it because you're friends with the Lady, or are you scared of the Duke?" Philip asks from the ground, though it is clear he is in no position to be making jabs at Grace. She presses further down on his chest and his wheezes turn into groans.

Geoffrey walks over to lend Philip a hand, and Grace reluctantly moves her foot. "I don't doubt Amy can hold her own over any of us. She's skilled enough to be Prince Cole's personal knight, and she's smart enough to know that you'd lose in a duel against Grace."

"Must you refer to them so informally?" Percival asks, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "Crown Prince Accolodius, and Lady Amalie. They're nobles, you ought to treat them like so. The lot of you act awfully informally when referring to people twice your rank."

Grace laughs at Percival, lifting a hand to ruffle his hair. "Oh Percy, you act as if you don't like us and yet here you are, a month later, still tolerating our informalities." He swats at Grace's hand but she pulls away fast enough that he barely misses.

"No worries Percival," I say, hands on my hips, "I see 'Amy' as a term of endearment, I very much appreciate it. And don't fault Geoffrey for referring to the Crown Prince as 'Cole', it's my mistake for speaking of him so naturally." In saying so, I turn to Philip and Geoffrey who continue to watch, clearly amused. "That being said, you are to refer to him as nothing less than his full title when in his presence. Or else, as his knight, I'd be forced to dispose of you myself." My warning is directed towards the two of them, but my eyes remain fixed on Philip for the most part.

Philip pouts, looks at Geoffrey who shrugs at him, Percival who scowls at him, and again at Grace who laughs at him. "This isn't fair," he whines, "Why can big sister Amy call him Cole but I have to call him something ridiculous like 'Accolodius'. She works directly under him, shouldn't she be the most formal with him?"

"Lady Amalie," Percival snaps, hitting Philip in the back of the head. "And what do you mean 'big sister'? She hasn't even had her coming of age yet."