"The Lady," Maleck, the cousin of Van Merikh, asked casually. "Who is she?"
Orpheus' knights were still awaiting his return, conversing amongst themselves about all manners of immoral things.
The food had been served, and the servants scattered and rushed about so as not to incur the knights' wrath.
And now the men sat in disjointed conversation as they drank the wine and gobbled down the food like ruffians.
No business was allowed to be conducted without their liege's presence.
And Maleck's question was on everyone's mind.
"She is the lady of Moonveil," Lyall answered, swirling his wind around in his enamel mug. "Her father was the Garrison commander and we have sent him back to Steelveld Castle."
"You have not slain him?" Maleck's brow arched, his arms folded under his chest.
"Nay," came Lyall's vague reply.
Now properly informed of the lady's identity, Maleck cast some of the other knights at the table a long, thoughtful glance.
