Chapter 1 of     The Nightmare Rider

Leginza: The Academy

Once again the sound of metal clashing preceded a smash amid the metallic pounding of robotic hooves followed by exclamations from many that were watching as she was. Mostly a mixture of surprise and approval. Jessica Weyden shook her head at the spectacle. Dante had been unhorsed again. The other rider spun his mount around then trotted back to the end. An underclassman, acting as squire, took the lance while another offered up a drink bottle. She watched as two others ran over to help up the downed rider. He was moving slower this time as he struggled to roll over and clamber to his feet. For almost any other Jessica would have admired the victor's technique. It was as solid as it came. He was able to sit firm enough in the saddle to withstand the impact of his lance into the opponent while at a slight enough angle to deflect the bulk of the opposing impact. But he wasn't any other rider. He was Patrick Fotens; Third year and a Solo of all damnable things. One of her main rivals whether she wanted to admit it or not. Down below there was activity and it didn't look good.

"HOLD," the instructor called out and went over to him.

The armor clad young man finally managed to stand up but swayed, "I'm alright Sir Belvin."

Aame Belvin gestured to him, "flip your visor Dante."

The visor was raised and the young man looked slightly dazed. The instructor looked him over carefully then shook his head.

"You're done Dante. I'm surprised your eyes aren't spinning around in different directions. You'd probably see three of him," Belvin remarked.

Dante tried to focus, "I'd aim for the middle one Sir."

Both squires laughed as they held him upright.

Finally Belvin shook his head and chuckled, "nice answer. That's good spirit, but I have to shut you down."

The instructor held up both arms and called out, "THAT'S IT. DANTE IS DOWNED. BRING IT IN FOTENS."

The other rider dismounted and strode over. He regarded Dante closely then clapped him on the shoulder.

"Take a good hit Lorenz. I owe you another lance. Its yours anytime you want or we toss this one out and do it all over," Patrick Fotens declared loudly.

Sir Belvin nodded, "Lorenz Dante. State your option, mindful that neither of you will advance nor retreat until this dispute is resolved."

"Sir Belvin, I accept Solo Patrick Fotens' challenge. One week from today full match," Lorenz Dante answered loudly so everyone could hear the response.

The instructor turned and spoke to the scorekeepers, "this match is void. Reschedule for this day next week, hold the rankings of Lorenz Dante and Solo Patrick Fotens."

Immediately the board reflected the changes.

Belvin nodded, "Very well. Dante, see the Line Trainer. Fotens, see to yourself. Set up for the next match!"

The two opponents clenched their fists and tapped their chest then the back of each other's fist in salute. Dante did his best to go under his own power, but escorted by the two squires. Fotens turned but held his place when the instructor said quietly.

"Well done Fotens. You rode excellently and your technique was dead-on. Your standing may have frozen but you did gain real world points and they'll count too." Belvin said in a low voice.

Patrick nodded back. "Lorenz is good. On the field and off. I have no problem with him having a fair shot Sir Belvin."

The jousting instructor nodded. "Good attitude Solo. On your way."

Patrick left the field leading his mount. The robotic horse walked beside him to the stable.

"Daemon. Stall." Patrick commanded after positioning the robot horse.

The standard dull grey horse backed itself into the stall then a small panel opened just behind the left front leg and a cable lowered. Patrick took the cable and plugged the end into a receptacle in the side of the stall. Patrick took the board from the post and marked the checklist then replaced it. He then went to the Solo Wardroom. Inside, a member of staff helped remove his armor and placed it on the stand inside a small closet. Of the fifty closets only twenty were being used currently.

Patrick Fotens was a student at the Academy of Armed Cavalry. Unlike many of the students he had no sponsor. Neither Royalty nor Nobility. He wasn't of the Gentry either. Patrick had paid his own tuition and expenses himself. He had no alliance or affiliation. He was a Solo. In essence; a mercenary. Upon graduation and knighting he could approach or be approached by any force and be hired as a knight for a limited time or permanently. Students without sponsorship, alliance or affiliation were rare and had been dubbed Solos. They stood alone and answered only to the Headmaster. Solos could however undertake assignments while at the Academy but with parameters. An assignment could not exceed four days of absence, could not be for an armed force and must be for profit. In short they could only join limited, small-scale engagements and more preferably serve as personal security.

Many Solos after leaving the Academy joined a FreeLancers Regiment. The First FreeLancers was the first force of Solos to be formed and recognized. They were strictly for hire for limited assignments mostly of diplomatic nature, escorting emissaries and conference delegations. Because of this they were given free passage throughout all territories provided their number did not exceed four Solos for every male they escorted or six for every female. The First FreeLancers were also known to have at least one female Solo in the contingent when escorting a female charge. There was an infantry version called the First FreeBooters Battalion and they did much of the same work.

That was out there. In the Academy things were different. In the Academy the student populace tried to establish more than one hierarchy. That was because so many of the students were royalty or nobility. They of course would try to impose authority. It never worked for long. One stipulation of attending the Academy was that all students had to agree, along with their parents, that they had no authority over any other student or faculty other than those officially sanctioned. The Student Council and Security Contingent. Security was provided by Solos of the Second FreeLancers and Freebooters. They provided security at the Academy and served as escorts for royals and nobles outside the Academy boundary. There were two villages within half a mile of the Academy and the students were free to visit them. Most of the Solos boarded in the villages as it was cheaper than in the Academy. Villagers were allowed to post assignments for Solos looking for paid work and rooms for rent. There was a post-board for the Gentry as well but the assignments were different.

Patrick took a shower, dried off then dressed. His uniform was that of the standard grey pants with matching shirt, a dark blue jacket trimmed in grey and black boots. Like all Solos his jacket and sword had no ornament or other markings other than year designation. He wore his long black hair free and tucked the black leather gloves into his belt. The jacket was of a heavy cloth, unlike those worn by the Royals and Nobles. Their jackets were usually of a velvet and in their family or country's colors and their wore white pants.The females, unless a Solo, usually wore a blouse with a ruffled front in white or the second of their colors and instead of riding pants they substituted a short skirt. The Gentry wore the colors of their affiliation with their jacket made of similar material to Patrick's. The choice of colors for Solos were those of the Academy as it prevented dispute over their affiliations, if they had any.

Over generations warfare had changed. Technology evolved. Flesh and blood horses were replaced by robotic. metal tipped wooden lances were replaced by plasma-charged composites. Razor sharp metal swords became laser-edged steel alloy impregnated ceramic blades. Hammered metal armor gave way to glazed composites laced with alloys. Flexible shaft or counter-weighted catapults hurling stones fell to compression launchers and variable density objects still called rocks. Even the conduct of war had changed. After the battle, the disposition of prisoners would be determined. Royals would be ransomed. High Nobility could be ransomed or kept as prizes. Lower Nobility were kept as prizes. The Gentry were taken as labor or sold as such. Solos were given the option of signing over, purchasing their own freedom or ransom. There was a standard price for a Solo to battle each day and that would be their ransom. However many days that Solo had been in battle against that force would have to be paid to that force. This would only occur after their status was verified. All Solos had to register as such.

Those conditions had been inspired by the Gods. Gods and Goddesses were real. Naturally they didn't get along no matter which end of the spectrum they inhabited. Each faction fought the other and the factions fought among themselves. Humans on the mortal plane had seen some of these battles and therefore emulated. In fact it was not unheard of to see a God or two watching the mortal battles. Usually placing wagers on the outcome. Sometimes they meddled with the mortals or even joined the battle themselves. When that happened; prayers, tributes and sometimes even sacrifices were the price to be paid. Some royals and even a few nobles claimed that the price for victory had been to bear or sire a child for a god or goddess None of this was new. It had been going on since before time was understood to be time. It simply was the things were. Patrick knew and understood it, just as much as anyone did as he walked through the corridor.

"Is it true?" a young girl in the colors of a noble asked.

The young Gentry boy nodded. "The staff were talking about it during the break."

Another girl in Gentry colors looked worried, "That's three hundred miles from here. The Rider wouldn't come here though, right? I mean we're a school. The Rider only cares about battles? Darnell?"

Darnell shrugged to the girl, "who knows what the Rider is interested in. The teacher did say the rumor about being a girl is true. He said he heard she was beautiful and rode a demon horse."

"What about the other story? That she drives people insane." The first girl asked.

Darnell nodded sadly. "So said, a lot of men did go insane. The rest were terrified and it took them a long time to snap out of it. They said their worst fears had come alive right in front of them. So now we know why she's called the Nightmare Rider."

A faculty member approached the trio of Second years. "Let's move along. You all have somewhere to be."

Quickly they rushed off. The faculty member glanced at Patrick and exchanged nods. No comments were neccessary as Patrick hadn't even stopped while the Second years were talking. Gossiping, more like. It was nothing new. Neither was the subject. There were many stories of the mysterious woman that had come to be called The Nightmare Rider. Most came from half-crazed survivors or the the last words of the dying. Patrick turned at the doorway and entered the classroom. Several of the other students nodded to him. A couple of the girls gave him looks of their feminine appreciation. That too was not new to him. He was an attractive young man and fit enough to appear dashing. He also had no problem admitting that some of his admirers was also attractive. For most it was only visual appreciation that led only to private fantasies. High born females would never become involved with a Solo. At least not when they still had family obligations to meet.

Though not common, it wasn't unheard of that the occasional heir was actually the offspring of a tryst, or an agreement that included some sort of gratuity. Especially when a marriage was of political reasons for the young woman. If she were of a higher station than her betrothed then it would be she who dictated the conditions of the heir or heiress she produced. Female Solos were different. They were sometimes actively sought after by young royals and nobles to produce their heirs, the rewards for doing so were frequently quite generous.

None of that weighed on his mind. Only the day was his concern. He had only to finish this class and the day was over. He took his seat and prepared for the lesson. It was a class that did require him to pay strict attention; battle history. There was one thing in common. There was an independent group that observed major battles. Afterward they documented it. Individual details were not always clear, but formations and tactics were easy to determine. Those were what was taught. Some notable Knights hired observers to keep an account of their actions in battles. That had already been strongly advised not to be trusted. Many had turned out to be over-embellishments. More than one had even been proven to be complete fabrication.

For Solos the only thing that really mattered was their Battle Ledger. Essentially it was a book that they kept all their vouchers. For any assignment they received a voucher that declared their payments. Like a receipt book. The voucher was an official document with seals and signatures of the military group they serve with along with the monies dispersed, rates and any bonuses. More often than not they received bonuses for victories or performing service above what was expected. This however was determined by the contractor. A contractor that acquired a reputation for underpaying or cheating Solos quickly found themselves not able to hire them. Likewise a Solo that acquired a reputation for performing less than agreed upon service would find themselves struggling to find work.

Patrick Fotens was a rarity, even among his fellow Solos. He had come to the Academy as a recognized Solo and even had a Battle Ledger. He had begun in a group and acquired enough money to pay for his own tuition. The Solo Regiment he'd started out with had become so small it had only four members left plus himself so they collectively joined another Regiment and he opted to enter the Academy as a Third year. The Eighty-Sixth FreeLancers were no more. The others had joined the Seventy-Fifth FreeLancers. When the Commander had heard Patrick was going to attend the Academy he wrote a letter of recommendation to ensure his admittance along with a letter of invite to join the Seventy-Fifth upon graduation.

Jessica finished putting away her class things. Unconsciously she glanced to her left and saw him. Solo Patrick Fotens. It irked her for him to be so good. Gossip placed him within the top three of the Third years and the top twenty of the Academy. Some were even speculating he would place in the tournament. That would infuriate her to no end. Especially if she placed lower. That and the fact that several of the noble young women admitted to being infatuated with him. She had heard of one even stating that she hoped to marry lower than herself so she could seek Patrick out to sire her firstborn. To date Jessica was undefeated. Patrick Fotens was as well, but holding position until his current contest was resolved. Lorenz Dante was a Gentry, but very formidable. He had only one loss and one draw. If he won the disputed contest against Patrick he would advance to contest with Jessica. If he lost then she would face Patrick.

Jessica Weyden of Lurbourg was one of five princesses attending the Academy. Two were First years, one a Second year and one a Fourth year. She was the only princess in the Third year class. Of course that came with its own problems. Her station and beauty attracted the attention of many young men and the advances of several High Nobles and one Prince. In her opinion everyone had their place. She was royalty and that meant she was to receive the best without question. Nobility were her friends and supporters. The Gentry served without reservation and the rest were either villagers or servants. Then there were Solos. To her; Solos were just short of opposing forces. To be blunt, she refused to find them trustworthy and wanted nothing to do with them other than force them out of her country.

Lurbourg had lost a battle because an opposing country had hired a Solo Regiment. Afterward that country had ransomed Jessica's Uncle, Aunt and two cousins. They had known exactly who they had captured and demanded a very high ransom. It cost heavily to buy them back. If that rival country hadn't hired a Solo Regiment, Lurbourg would not have lost. For her this was unacceptable. It was for that reason she despised all Solos. When she inherited the throne of Lurbourg she would outlaw Solos in Lurbourg.

"Your Highness," a voice brought her back to the here and now.

Jessica looked over, "yes? What is it Lamia?"

Lamia Tuala smiled, "Aruna is going into Larkendon. She asked if you and I would like to go with her."

"I'm sure she has discovered some new pastry shop. The Duchess does have quite a sweet tooth," Jessica remarked.

Lamia giggled, "so would that be a yes, Highness?"

Jessica smiled to her friend, "why not. She's never failed us before. I'll meet you at the main door."

Jessica left and went to the stairs leading to the female dorms. There were multiple floors. The Gentry on the lowest floors, Low nobles on the next, high nobles on the next and the royals on the top floor. Jessica went to her room and checked herself over. She touched up her cosmetics then brushed her hair. Had she been at home her maid would have done that for her. At the Academy she didn't have such luxury. An Academy maid came into her room in the morning to clean, collect any clothing to be laundered and change the linens. She had met the maid only once and that was on the first day to unpack Jessica's luggage and verify instructions. Even though her parents informed her that the Academy staff were not there to wait on her immediately and for most things she would have to attend herself, she still didn't like it.

The first day of classes had a very harsh start for the young royal. She had never cared to pay attention to instructions by her maid before and therefore had no clue as to how to apply her own cosmetics or style her own hair. This lack of skill was instantly recognized by her classmates. Most of whom immediately laughed at her. During lunch a girl came to her and introduced herself as Lamia and offered to help. Hesistantly Jessica nodded and showed Lamia up to her dorm room. Twice per day for a week the young lower noble taught her a different style. Jessica was shocked to learn that Lamia even polished her own boots. Lamia informed her that her parents had insisted that she learn how to look after herself completely for a whole year before coming to the academy, including cleaning her own clothing and cooking her own meals. The Academy provided those services but Lamia did have the choice to live on her own. She chose to stay in the dorm, but saw to her own needs during the weekends. She was the first friend Jessica had made and was the closest of all.

Over half an hour later the three friends were sitting in a small eatery.

"Well Highness? Wasn't I right," Aruna asked rhetorically.

Jessica smiled, "of course Duchess. Your addiction for sweets has never led us astray before!"

All three laughed.

"What are you going on about," a woman asked loudly.

The three girls turned to look and saw the woman that had served them talking an old woman sitting at a table.

"She is here. The spirits have told me. Bolt your doors and dare not go out at night or she may see you," the old woman said.

Aruna walked over, "who is here Madam?"

"The Nightmare Rider. She is lurking about the village," the old woman said.

Lamia came over, "that can't be. I heard she was at the battle on Skeldar Plain last night. That's well over three hundred miles from here."

The old woman laughed, "That distance is nothing to one such as her!"

Jessica stood at the table, "we've all heard far-fetched stories of this so-called Nightmare Rider. Most are the ravings of madmen."

"A High-Borne, aren't you," the old woman smiled.

Jessica nodded, "I am. Her royal Highness, Jessica Weyden; Princess of Lurbourg."

"I'm Aruna Monning; Duchess of Eldistin. Tell us about the Nightmare Rider," Aruna asked.

The old woman nodded, "throughout time, even before time was understood, one thing has been constant. War. War rages in Heaven, Hell, and the planes in between. There is one understanding; Power begets power. Our mortal world has seen the occasional skirmish and grew to emulate and waged their own wars. One such war was the god of nightmares fought the goddess of punishment on the planes in between. They fought to a stand-still. With all their warriors exhausted it became a duel. Poena declared upon her victory Phoetor would serve in her dungeons for five years. Phoetor accepted her challenge, but upon his victory her fate would be declared to which she must accept without resistance. Poena agreed."

The three girls sat listening as did the shop owner standing close by.

The old woman continued the tale, "They clashed for days; neither gaining nor giving any quarter until Poena stumbled after a missed slash and her sword was struck from her grip. Phoetor was the victor. He demanded she send her army home and would be allowed to rejoin them after only three years, during which time she would serve as consort and produce an heir. Three years later Poena returned to her tower; clad in her old battle armor, alone and without the only daughter she would ever birth. The child grew in the father's court, watching battles fought in the distance. One day Phoetor declared the heiress to be cast out to learn the ways of battle."

"That's CRUEL," Lamia stated.

The old woman merely shrugged, "The Gods and Goddess do as they wish. The daughter wandered, clad in only the simple wrap of cloth from a bath. She happened upon a battleground and concealed herself to watch. Vulcan fought a strange god she had never seen. In a mighty move, the strange god knocked the sword from Vulcan's grip. The heiress grabbed it and approached them both unawares. From behind she struck and toppled the strange god. With sword held high she declared herself the victor and claimed her own rewards. From Vulcan she claimed his sword, scabbard and all the coins he had. From the strange god that had no name she claimed his cloak and all the coins he had."

"How very opportunistic! Where is the honor in that," Jessica protested.

Aruna said firmly, "nobody taught her of honor! She was only doing what she had to just to survive Highness! You would do the same! Please madam, tell us what happened after that."

The woman nodded, "The heiress continued to wander. Taking advantage of unguarded moments in battle to usurp victory and claim minor rewards; serving no one but herself. One day the heiress met the Furies and struck a bargain. For all of her coins they would make a set of armor that had never been known. She gave them the coins. The Furies panned the river Styx for rare minerals to make the metal Styxion, and created the armor. The heiress declared a name for herself then. It was then her age fixed. Some time later she happened upon a Lust, a demon that provoked actions of souls based on emotions, he was a BloodLust. The Lust had two souls enthralled and were battling each other. Foolishly the Lust challenged her to fight his two thralls for eternal servitude. She won in a single sword slash. The Lust bowed to his new mistress and gifted his name. Knowing a demon's true name gives control over the demon you know. Together they traveled into our mortal world. She has become known by us mortals as The Nightmare Rider."

The girls sat silently as the old woman finished her story.

"That's quite a tale Madam," Aruna stated.

"It is as the spirits have told me. I must go now. Night is coming and I will not be out after dark. Neither should you," the old woman said firmly then slowly rose and shuffled out.

Jessica looked over to the shop owner and chuckled, "She sure can spin a tale. I bet she could make a few coins with it."

The princess felt a chill when the woman shook her head slowly and said gravely, "That was no dark fairy tale. She is a witch. Her Goddess is Tamar. She can barely see ten feet in front her but that old witch is NEVER wrong."

Lamia reached into the inner pocket of her jacket and laid three coins on the table, "This should cover the old woman's tea."

Jessica looked at her for a moment, "She did have us. Quite right Lamia. I'll pay for yours and my sitting."

Aruna took the needed coins to pay for her own and added them to the ones Jessica stacked on their former table.

"Thank you. Are you really Princess Weyden and Duchess Monning," The shop owner asked.

Lamia giggled, "They are. I'm Lamia Tuala, merely a Lady but I'll be a Dame eventually."

"I'm honored you visited my little shop and hope you enjoyed," The shop owner said then gave then a deep curtsy. "I'm Anya. I hope to serve you again my Ladies."

"We did Anya. And we definitely SHALL return soon," Jessica stated then followed her friends out.

Idly they walked down the street, looking into the windows of the shops scattered among homes. For the most part the shops were easy to discern from the homes. Shops were marked with a sign of some kind and the homes were marked with a plaque declaring the name of the family.

"Highness why did you insist we walk all the way here and back. It would have been so much easier to ride," Aruna complained.

Jessica replied calmly, "walking strengthens our legs. Our legs need to be strong to help us stay in the saddle. I'd rather be slightly tired and have a little discomfort in my feet than be upon my backside in humiliation because I was unhorsed. No thank you Aruna, I'll walk this bit."

Lamia was waving at two children playing in their yard waving at them, "I heard Solo Fotens was going to win again but Sir Belvin stopped the match."

"Didn't he contest against Lorenz Dante? What happened for that," Aruna asked.

Jessica answered, "Dante was felled for two lances so Sir Belvin stopped the match. Dante was given the option of a final lance at a later time or full contest next week. He chose full contest. He wasn't doing so well as he left the course. Perhaps in a day or two he can go back to training, prepare for the match and win."

"My my! The way that sounded; one might think you could be afraid of facing Fotens. Is our friendly Princess a bit leery of someone after all," Aruna asked coyly.

Jessica glared at her, "Not in the slightest! I would win with ease, though that's hardly the point. He's a Solo. How dare he challenge me! How dare he even THINK to challenge me!"

Aruna knew she had just struck a nerve but decided to toy a bit, "oh? So its not about skill, which he clearly has. Its about him being a Solo."

"I'll face any royal. Its expected. I'll face any noble. That's my prerogative. I'll face most of the Gentry. Many of them are honorable and seek to further that honor through legitimate challenge. Some are quite formidable I'll admit. But a Solo? Completely unworthy and without any honor at all! The only exceptions are the First Regiment and Battalion. A necessary evil, but there should be an alternative," Jessica said firmly.

"I've seen Fotens ride. He sits solid in the saddle. His technique is about as perfect as I've ever seen and I heard he hits like a boulder coming off of a cliff. Even Lord Laanower admitted it," Lamia said.

Jessica huffed, "Talbar's lackey. Its hard to determine which is more despicable. Between their bullying of underclassmen and their ridiculous wagers; its hard to decide which is more appalling."

Aruna laughed, "Fotens got Laanower really good. He only accepted the challenge after Laanower agreed to standing points only. He lost ten to Fotens."

Lamia nodded, "Fotens wouldn't agree to any other wager."

"Just as well. Laanower would never have upheld his end. By agreeing to points the contest became legitimately sanctioned and the terms had to be met by the Academy. If others take that route it won't be long those two would have to repeat a year or go home." Jessica acknowledged.

Aruna laughed, "Are you admitting that he was clever?"

Jessica started walking again, "I'm admitting that he wasn't blatantly stupid. One can learn from the mistakes of others. Laanower wouldn't back down from issuing the challenge. However everyone knows that he's never paid up on a loss. The only time Talbar ever did was against a royal because there was proof of the wager and results of the contest. Otherwise he'd have never followed through either."

"I'm still thinking about the old woman's story," Lamia said.

Aruna asked, "That the Nightmare Rider is actually the daughter of an Underworld God and Goddess?"

Lamia nodded.

"Let's say that is true," Jessica mused. "Why would the Nightmare Rider show so much interest in mortal battles? Wouldn't she be better off fighting in the Underworld? Don't they gain power through worship or victories? She would have to gain enough power to have a kingdom there then she would be able to gather worshipers here right?"

Aruna shrugged, "That's how we think it works. The priests and priestesses tell us that but does anybody really know for sure? Odin is my God and Freya my Goddess, but do they really care about that? They've never come and told us so."

"Well I could say the same of Mars and Venus. My mother said she saw Venus once but they never spoke to each other," Lamia said.

Their conversation had carried them back to the Academy and through the gate. They were now entering the main door.

Jessica sighed, "I think we'd be better served focusing on the here and now with the tangible. We do what we can and the Gods and Goddesses will sort themselves out."

Patrick Fotens veered off the road onto a slightly overgrown path. He walked further and went into a line of trees and disappeared from sight. Deep in the forest he emerged into a clearing with a ramshackle house that looked almost derelict. The front door groaned in protest of being opened then again at being closed. He slid the bolt across and began to remove his jacket. He crossed the dusty and cobwebbed main room into a side room though not very clean, was at least free of the major dirt and webs. A single chair though was free of dust and the floor had been swept sometime previously as to not reveal footprints. Patrick removed his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair then sat down to pull off his boots.

"So you've returned from you daily quest for knowledge," a low voice commented.

Patrick grunted taking off the second boot and stood it beside the other, "your knack for the obvious is startling."

The voice chuckled, "a new euphemism. I see you're beginning to develop a fondness for sarcasm. So what have you learned in your dedicated pursuit?"

Patrick stood up and removed his pants, "The Gentry named Lorenz Dante. He was clearly beaten yet he wanted to continue. Then the strangest thing happened. I learned that in some cases, respectful acknowledgement of weakness is met with gratitude if there is promise to return."

"That is more confusing than normal. What do you mean," the voice asked.

Patrick folded the pants in half and hung them over the chair and began to unbutton the shirt to do the same, "I unhorsed him twice. The second time he was struggling to recover himself. The instructor determined that it was unwise to cross lances again. I told Dante that I was willing to offer him the final lance at a later time or we could revisit the entire match. I first complimented his ability to withstand my attack."

The voice replied, "yes. You've mentioned this before. Complimenting an adversary is a frequent custom during training. What happened?"

"He chose to revisit the match next week and was grateful for the opportunity. After classes he came to me and shook my hand then vowed to prepare even harder. He said he was indebted to me to become a stronger opponent for our return match and his honor would not be satisfied until I felt he had met me with all he could muster. Its very strange. He feels as if he did not fight with all he was worth and that I was being cheated of victory," Patrick said finally naked.

The young man walked forward into a darkened doorway to a cupboard. As he passed through, the cupboard was not there and instead was a large darkened room with a carved Onyx chair to resemble a throne atop a dais. In the young man's place there now stood a young woman with almost white blonde hair past her hips and clad in armor that revealed as much as it protected.

"You mean he felt as if he failed," the voice asked. "Isn't that the nature of defeat? To fail?"

No Daalumos. He felt he failed me. I don't understand it myself. He feels that the contest he gave me was not worthy of me and that I deserve a stronger opponent," She said.

A horse stepped from the deeper shadows. A horse that seemed to be partially composed of a molten fiery substance.

"But he was not worthy of you my Mistress. You were defeating him. Of course the mortal would feel that way. He is a mortal Phoebe," Daalumos replied.

"Mortals do puzzling things. Sometimes when they no they stand a chance of losing they will run away. Other times when they know without a doubt they will not survive they stand even firmly and fight to their last breath. This mortal feels as if he could have done better. Should have done better and only then can he accept victory or defeat when he has brought forth all that he can," Phoebe stated.

The bound demon shook himself, "it would not be that way among the Gods and Goddesses."

Phoebe sat back and mused, "perhaps this is more of a philosophy I heard before. Mortals not only compete against each other, but also themselves. I'm told many set standards for themselves and if they do not meet those self-imposed standards that is when they feel true failure. That may be this situation with Dante. He has not met his own standard and therefore did not bring to me true contest."

Daalumos laughed, "he failed himself and in doing so failed you? What strange notions come from mortals!"

"Strange as it may seem to us, the mortals take such things quite serious. Most of the time. I have begun to see this in the better riders. It is a trait that is shared more often in those of the lower class. The Gentry. These Nobles and Royals have it but not as pronounced. They will make up for the lack of ability with those who surpass it. The lower ones it makes them strive more ardently to overcome their weakness. I believe that will be Dante's choice. He will train harder than before to make himself worthy of the contest," Phoebe concluded.

Daalumos snorted, "as if a mortal could ever truly be worthy of you! Phoebe; the daughter of Phoetor and Poena."

Phoebe chuckled, "he is not having a contest with Phoebe. He is having a contest with Patrick."

"From the sound of that my Mistress, one would think you are starting to enjoy this charade of pretending to be a mortal. I thought I smelled food about your facade," Daalumos remarked.

"I do have to be seen consuming food from time to time. It was very interesting. It was a meat they call sausage that had been placed into a bread called a roll. They smeared a spiced paste between the meat and the bread. With this there was a packet of thinly sliced fried potato that was sprinkled with a finely ground salt. It was very easy to consume. I saw several doing so while they continued with their activity. Thinking about it now; I liked it," Phoebe stated then leaned back and closed her eyes.

Daalumos stood quietly. The Lust knew his mistress was searching for a battle. When her eyes opened some time later he roared in delight. Phoebe leapt onto his back and he bolted forward through a large archway and into the night leaving behind a trail of flickering hoof prints.

 
 
 
 
If you've liked this chapter of The Nightmare Rider please kudo. Comments are welcome. This is my first foray into the fantasy genre and I hope I do it well.

Chapter 2 of     The Nightmare Rider

Daalumos ran leaving behind a flickering trail of hoof prints. He was able to pass in and out through shadows because of Phoebe's cloak, allowing them to cover even greater distances. For any other demon, being bound was a detestable thing. Relegated to a form such as horse and ridden would be even more insulting. For Daalumos it had some benefits. His appearance to mortals inspired fear. Fear was something he could feed on, but it was the desire to kill that was his main source of sustenance. He was a BloodLust. Being around entities that wanted to destroy each other was what fed him. Most times just being in his presence was enough to incite lesser beings' suppressed feelings. Their desire fueled him. Right now it was Phoebe's desire that was driving him. Once they entered the battle the emotions of the mortals would flow into him.

Their unbridled murderous hatred was for him. Their fear was her's. Phoebe fed upon the mortals' terror. She would feed on adoration but that came from worship. Those gave her power. It took only a little effort from her to overcome their rationale and trigger their outpouring of fear. Once their fear touched her it flowed back and forth, growing in intensity to become crippling terror. It was the fundamental law. Power begets Power. If they gave her a little she could then take all they had. Together Phoebe and Daalumos made quite the pair. Fear and murderous intent. Both meshed well together. Others would make such a combination or even better, however the individuals that mostly fed off those refused to collaborate. It was selfish of course, but not surprising. Power shared is power halved. A concept not endorsed or embraced by Gods and Goddesses. For them it was all or nothing, hence their constant battles. They fought for dominance. Phoebe and Daalumos fought for existence.

Perhaps one day they may fight the Gods and Goddesses, for now they fought to stay alive and it was far easier to do on the mortal plane. Here they were seen and were becoming known. After observing the mortals for a while Phoebe understood. Mortals had a way called Business. If a mortal wanted to do well in life they would need to provide something. In order to provide that something other mortals would have to be more aware of them than others that did the same. Something called Reputation. Daalumos found this fascinating. Reputation turned out to be not unlike worship. If a mortal provided on a reliable basis then others sought them out to do so. If one prayed, their God or Goddess bestowed favor. The more they worshiped; prayers and offerings, the more they were favored. Mortal business worked in much of the same manner. If a mortal provided something on a constant basis and of higher quality than others that did the same, then they would be favored above those others. Daalumos had then posed the question, is Business a religion? Phoebe thought about it then laughed for so it did seem.

They burst forth from a shadow and could see the two forces moving towards each other. Daalumos felt their desire rising as did Phoebe as swords and lances clashed.

The bound demon laughed, "shall we conduct our Business my Mistress?"

"Indeed! Let us 'Corner our market'," Phoebe replied with mirth.

Daalumos felt his power increasing, "a new euphemism. And I actually think I can understand that one. You're gaining quite the collection."

Shouts of aggression were coming from everywhere. A moment later those shouts became ones of alarm as Phoebe drew her sword and broke into the battle line. Phoebe was surprised to immediately feel fear surge all around her. She had yet to even spur the mortals. They recognized her and her mount. Instantly they were wracked with fear. Those further on became angry that she had come to their battle. That anger grew as they now wanted to fight her as well for interfering. Several turned away from their mortal enemy to charge at her. The BloodLust felt their intent and his power surged from it. He enthralled them, forcing their rage to spike to frenzy. Many of the mortals no longer cared in their quest to attack. Foot soldiers began hacking and slashing their way forward while the cavalry simply trampled over any in their path. This caused many to turn and engage their rampaging comrades in anger.

Phoebe felt power flowing into her as she rode Daalumos deep into the fray. Her sword of Vulcan cleaving through metal and man alike as if they were no more resistance than cutting through water. Suddenly she heard a whisper. it was barely there but she heard a voice. She tried to listen and it became clearer.

"Rider; My Lady. Grant me strength. Let my enemies fear me in your name. I Give unto you this gift," a voice whispered.

Phoebe felt as if she drank of something rich and looked around. She saw a young man with a slight glow about him. He had cut into his own arm with his sword and was bleeding onto the ground. That was when she realized what was happening. She was being worshiped. Her power immediately increased. She looked on the young man and saw a type of Glamour cover him. He looked larger and more aggressive. Another soldier facing him began to shrink back.

Phoebe whispered, "go now. Inspire their terror in the name of Phoebe whom you serve."

The empowered soldier charged forward, slashing at the enemy soldiers in front of him, "WITH MY SWORD, HAVE YOUR SACRIFICES!"

Phoebe was not the only one who's attention the young soldier caught. Daalumos discovered him as well and shrieked his delight. There was a mania coming from him and it felt wonderful to the demon. Like water being added to a barrel one cup at a time, power flowed to them. It was different from the rest. It was clearer, more refined, pure and intense.

Phoebe added to what she had bestowed on him and he continued to move, carving a greater swath through the opposing forces. The fear and rage increased and was purified to flow into Phoebe and Daalumos. An idea struck him. With a mind shattering shriek the bound demon surged forward then circled around. He began separating a group of mortals that looked different than the one worshiping Phoebe. Slowly he began directing them toward him. They had two options, try to fight the enraged warrior that seemed possessed or fall to the unearthly woman riding the frightening horse-like creature that was cutting through everything in her path. They chose the former. Seeing their comrades falling to him instilled a greater intent to kill him in retaliation. He was driven to kill in the name of her whom he was now worshiping. Daalumos had no need to hold either in thrall, they wanted to of their own will. The culled group's fear was building as they continued to lose to the anvil and hammer they were caught between.

A knight came from the side and drove his plasma lance through the single warrior. The heart was missed though and he twisted, ripping the lance from the Knight's hand as he continued to ride on through a sweeping arc to return to his own battle line.

Phoebe looked as her worshiper fell to his knees. The others began to advance on him; knowing that he was weaker now and vulnerable.

"A FINAL GIFT TO YOU! In the name of my Lady, Phoebe the Nightmare Rider I give her; MYSELF," he called out then flung himself onto his own sword.

The advancing soldiers froze as they saw his Glamour shatter. A glow surrounded him then streak toward her and surround her and the demon in horse-form. Daalumos reared up on his hind legs and let out a hideous shriek as Phoebe screamed in rage. The power that had been coming to them spiked suddenly, but with the feeling that it would fade soon. Phoebe spurred Daalumos hard and he leapt forward into the group of now terrified foot soldiers as Phoebe began slashing through them. The moment of courage shattered back into crippling fear and their minds broke from the visions that had filled them.

"FALL BACK! FALL BACK! RETREAT MEN! FOR YOUR LIVES; RETREAT," leaders on both sides called out to what remained of their troops.

In seconds the battle was over as the troops had withdrawn far enough that Phoebe would have to chase after them. Leaving her and Daalumos the bloodied field strewn with bodies. She watched as they faded into the dark distance then finally climbed down.

"I don't understand. What just happened to us," Phoebe asked.

The BloodLust craned his neck to nod at the fallen soldier, "he sacrificed himself in your name before they could take him in their rage or other worship. Such a gift is powerful but fleeting."

Phoebe looked down at the body, "so what now?"

"It looks like he has no one to honor him or his tribute. I think you will have to do so yourself in some manner. What do you think would be fitting for a sacrifice to yourself of one who worshiped you," Daalumos asked.

Phoebe looked around and simply took that which was at hand. A collection of swords were jammed into the ground after their ornament were removed. With her Vulcan sword she removed the device on four shields and laid them atop the swords. Finally she selected pieces of armor that were attractive yet plain and fixed them onto his body and placed him on the makeshift alter. Using the tip of her sword she carefully inscribed onto another shield using the language of the Underworld.

Phoebe took discarded lances and fashioned an arch and hung bare shields inscribed with her name. Daalumos decided to contribute and grabbed some of the fallen that wore the same colors as the worshiper had using his mouth and arranged them into a kneeling position facing inward. He snorted as they continued to fall over. Phoebe retrieved their swords and jammed them into the ground and moved them to lean against them. The scene now looked as if they were in prayer over the one. She forced a pair of coins into each one's hand then stood back to inspect again.

"How does that look," Phoebe asked.

Daalumos shook himself, "its your tribute, what do you think?"

Phoebe walked around it then frowned, "something feels missing. That it's not entirely mine."

The bound demon snorted, "you inscribed your name. What more should there be?"

Phoebe looked around then stared at a shield and pointed, "a symbol! I need a device of some kind."

Daalumos stamped his front leg, "they do seem to be in fashion."

Phoebe stared at one of the shields she had cleaned of its emblem then slowly used her sword tip to engrave first a horse rearing up surrounded by flame then blackened them to seem in shadow.

"There. That works. It even has you," Phoebe said proudly.

He laughed, "many thanks my Mistress. I'll admit I do find it pleasing. The hour is late. Collect your trinkets the mortals covet and let us go."

"Yes. There is nothing left for us here," Phoebe said then went about collecting up the coins she could find.

The coins held no real value for her, but her alter-ego Patrick had use for them. She ended up with well over a hundred that she put into a pair of bags. Phoebe climbed onto Daalumos' back and they set off at a less hurried pace. They returned to her place. She could easily become clean with a thought, but instead she stripped her armor and went into a room with a large bath. She relaxed in the water and let her thoughts drift back. She had never been worshiped before. For certain she had heard prayers from mortals that wished to be spared from her but that was different. Merely words that meant nothing to her. The man's prayer to her was different. She hadn't heard it with her ears, she had heard it with her mind and felt compelled to respond. She felt pleased. That pleasure was short lived and ended when he was struck. The power being given to her intensified but felt like sand slipping through her fingers then was gone.

Suddenly she felt something and sat up. Quickly she left the bath and ran to the other room.

"What is this," she asked in confusion.

Daalumos looked to be quivering, "I don't know. Whatever this is, I like it!"

Phoebe felt a warmth begin within herself and began to make her way over to her throne and sat. The feeling began to increase and she was soon panting and shaking. Her eyes drifted closed and her vision drifted in search of the source. Soon she saw the battlefield they had been at. Soldiers were gathering in front of her fallen worshiper and lamenting him. A man in different colors was pointing at the shield across his chest and reading it. She could hear his words.

"None of the men did this my Liege. It had to have been her. She did this herself to honor him," an old man said pointing.

Another man wearing the colors and armor of the group stated, "one of the men said he thought he heard him pray to her then saw him give of his own blood before berserking. Could it be that she is a Goddess we've never heard of before. He worshiped her and she rewarded him for it?"

The older man scratched at his bearded chin, "this is possible. For now let us bring him back to the kingdom and bury him in the sacred place not dedicated to one God or Goddess. Bring everything and it shall be the same there as it is here. It may not appease this Phoebe but it should not anger her. Have a scribe draw a depiction of this so we will be sure of how to remake it correctly."

Within minutes a boy was sitting on the ground drawing onto a tablet what he saw. He got up a few times and walked around it to make sure the drawing was correct.

The Lord came up and asked, "well boy? Do you have it accurately?"

He held out the tablet, "yes my Liege."

The Lord looked at the drawing and back to the real thing then circled around, "that looks accurate."

"Yes Sire," he said then frowned.

The Lord looked at him, "what? Speak up?"

The boy pointed to everything, "Sire she used what was immediately at hand. If we wanted to make sure that she isn't angry for distrubing it then we should make it better. If the new thing shows that we took care to honor her and the sacrifice made to her then she should see that we are being respectful. We'll have the time if I run ahead to gather what's needed."

He then sketched an idea that had been forming as he explained. When done the Lord nodded and sent the young man ahead, even demanding a horse to hasten him along. By sunrise the young man was ready for the arrival. He consulted his new sketch and positioned the swords then shields. Two soldiers carefully placed his body atop as before then the young man draped a black cloth over him. The Lord nodded as the young man directed long bladed halberds to form the canopy. The shields she had inscribed with her symbol were permanently mounted to them. At the opening, his sword was fixed between two stones clamping it in place and the inscribed shield hung from it.

"Well done boy. Indeed this does look respectful," The Lord stated.

The young man stepped forward, "Lady Phoebe, Mistress of Nightmares. We could not leave our comrade on the field away from his friends and family. We hope that you will still feel the honor here in this place and know that we have done this with respect to you. I hope you hear me and are pleased with."

The boy froze in place before he could finish his sentence. Everyone there withdrew when he dropped to his knees gasping.

"What is it boy? Is she angry? What should we do," the Lord demanded.

"She is pleased. I heard her. I heard her clearly! My Lord. Phoebe the Nightmare Rider charges us. Every year on this night eight soldiers are to come here in full battle dress. They must chime their swords to his and say his name and what he was to Her. This must be done as he did fight for you in her name," the boy said standing up and shaking slightly.

The Lord turned, "then I shall be the first. Captain I leave the rest to you. Boy I charge you, see to it this is done."

The Lord drew his sword and tapped it to the hilt of the upright sword, "Varumar Colhander. Fallen WarPriest to Lady Phoebe; Mistress Rider of Nightmares. Honored Dead."

One by one others came forward to repeat the act and incantation. Each felt a bit calmer afterward and left. The young man bowed and said the incantation. He felt her powerful presence leave him gently.

The dining hall came to low buzz half way through lunch. Jessica was seated at a table with the other Princesses and noticed them watching people from other tables talking rapidly. Their attention was so rapt that Jessica finally became annoyed.

"Oh for the sake of all that is," She turned around and was surprised to see all the conversations going on.

She glanced around and saw Aruna. She waved her over. Except for the staff, no one could approach a royal table without invitation. Aruna came over and crouched down.

"What is going on Duchess Monning," Jessica asked.

Aruna answered, "there's news Highness. The Nightmare Rider was seen again! She had a priest but he was a soldier. A WarPriest! He died and she built a shrine for him right there on the battlefield after it was over. She did it herself!"

Jessica looked at her, "that doesn't make sense. Only a God or a Goddess can have a WarPriest but I've never heard of one building a shrine or anything for one that died. No God or Goddess does that. Right?"

"I've never heard of it myself, Highness. I don't know of it ever being done. Let's ask in History," Aruna suggested.

Jessica nodded to her. Aruna stood up and curtsied quickly then went back to her table. All of the other Princesses had been listening and they were looking just as, if not more confused than Jessica.

Jessica looked around and sighed, "as interesting as it all is, it will be hard to search for answers to bizarre questions on an empty stomach. Let us at least finish lunch. That surely is something we CAN understand."

The others chuckled and went back to eating. When they were done they took their trays with plates over to the side and set them on a counter where a worker took them. Jessica stopped at a restroom to check her appearance then went to her class. In the class again there was animated conversations in low voices. The only one not participating was Patrick Fotens.

'I guess that shouldn't be a surprise. He never concerns himself with gossip. Even if its about himself,' She thought to herself then took her seat.

"Hey Patrick. Did you hear about last night," A Third year Gentry asked.

Jessica refused to look, but did listen. She was curious about his reply.

Patrick didn't look up from his tablet, "seems to be the major conversation Lorcon."

"Yeah but what do you think," the teen asked.

Patrick shrugged, "I think it's none of my business since I don't know anybody that was there. If it really bothers you talk to Dame Ayalla. She knows more about history than we do."

Emmin Lorcon shook his head, "wow. Not what I expected. Come on Patrick. I know you're a Solo but you need to stay up to date on stuff."

Patrick shifted his tablet, "I am a Solo. Who I fight for and against can change daily. The day you take a side for reasons other than pay, its time to sign up. Can't get personally involved Lorcon. That's how you make mistakes. Mistakes lose battles. I don't do personal and I don't do free."

"Oh yeah? What about that rematch for Dante," Lorcon said slyly.

Now Jessica was really listening. She wanted to hear this.

Patrick shook his head, "that's neither personal nor free. Outside of combat its unprofessional to take advantage of an opponent that is incapacitated. By freezing our positions I also gain time to observe my adversaries. I didn't gain points in the standings but I did gain points to my reputation because I remained professional."

The Gentry dropped his head to the desktop, "man; you're way too hardcore."

"What was it you said the other day? Don't hate the player, hate the game? Go with that," Patrick remarked.

Emmin Lorcon groaned at being bested with his own words. Jessica on the other hand was equally appalled and amused. She didn't want to be, but was.

"I'll admit, I don't like Solos. But one should be true to themselves and what they are," Jessica said then fought not to gasp in shock that she had said anything at all.

Patrick looked directly at her, "lies should not become you Weyden. You have a hatred for Solos. You feel you have reason so go ahead. I'm not a fool. I know that I may very well fight with or against you all one day. Its not personal for me, nor should it be for you. You are correct on that last part. One should be true to themselves and what they are."

Jessica fought to keep her calm, "its Princess Weyden."

Patrick shrugged, "not my Princess. I am a Solo. Outside the Academy the only authority I have to recognize is that which is paying me at the time. Those are the rules. I follow the rules and no one can ever legitimately claim that I don't."

Everyone had gone quiet at the beginning of the conversation. It was no secret how Jessica Weyden felt about Solos, so for her to engage in a conversation with one had been shocking to the class.

Jessica spat back angrily, "I should have known better than to pay compliment to a Solo!"

As soon as the words left her mouth she immediately wished they hadn't. Anyone was free to discuss a Solo in a positive or negative context, but never to them. It was a sign that you wanted to be in their favor without pay. Implicating that they would owe you. In short, a high insult.

Patrick looked at her calmly and said, "with your abilities, I'm sure your family will find a fine diplomat for you to be the wife of."

Jessica's anger was barely being held back. The door was now open. She insulted first, he returned it. Now it was her choice; she could pretend to be amused and let it go, which would end things there. Or she could issue challenge for her honor that she herself had tarnished and go to immediate contest. Both had pro's and con's. Everyone knew that a first born was expected to be a knight and the youngest sibling a diplomat or clergy, depending on how many children there were. Jessica being an only child was expected to be a Knight. Everyone knew that. She insulted him first which showed less character and severely lacking in maturity. If she took his return insult and blew it off it would show that she could face a mistake with good grace.

If she demanded challenge then it would show that she would provoke a fight over nothing and demand deference. A fight she absolutely could not lose. This was not for the Academy, it was personal. Something that could not be allowed. Fotens would determine some form of payment should he be victorious if she issued personal challenge. Payment she would have to concede if she lost. The problem was that he could name anything.

"Don't do it," Lamia whispered behind her.

Jessica glared at Patrick. He wasn't smiling, smirking, glaring or anything. He wasn't even looking at her anymore. Before she could think about it again she sealed her fate.

"My abilities that are far superior to yours and I have no problem proving them against the likes of you," Jessica said hotly.

Patrick Fotens turned around, "it'll cost you Weyden."

Jessica knew she was over the line but she had jumped off that cliff on her own, "of course. You are a Solo. So what shall it be? A dinner date or some such humiliation?"

"I'm not a masochist. One hundred coins and the sword you're wearing," Patrick said flatly.

Jessica twitched as if stung. The coins were not an issue, but the demand for the sword was a slap. Her sword was an heirloom that had been passed down the knighted women of her family for generations. To demand this was worse than a peasant boy claiming a virgin's underwear that had been signed by her. The problem was she couldn't refuse. To refuse meant that she did not have the ability to defeat him and would be admitting it openly. Now she had no choice but win, because she would have to hand it over without protest if she lost.

"Agreed," she ground out between her teeth.

"So be it," Dame Ayalla said loudly from the doorway.

Everyone wanted to cringe now. Their instructor had been listening for some time apparently.

The instructor walked in with her hands clasped behind her back and scrutinized them, "well I'm not such a fool as to think I'd be able to teach any of you anything today. Class adjourned to the arena. Weyden, Fotens. You'll need squires."

Jessica stated loudly, "Duchess Monning and Lady Tuala for myself."

Patrick set two coins on his desktop, "whomever wants to earn a coin each."

Lorcon reached over and took one, "Lorcon; Lance."

"Wazley. Armor," a girl stepped over and took the other coin.

Dame Ayalla nodded, "that's it then. Make ready."

The class left for the arena. Jessica went to the royals' wardroom followed by Aruna. Lamia went to the armory and retrieved a set of lances. Emmin Lorcon was there doing the same. He looked over at her.

Lamia shook her head, "I'd rather not talk about this."

Emmin sighed, "I understand. For what it's worth, you're a good friend. She's going to need that after this."

Tuala nodded and left, carrying the five wooden lances. They were only allowed to use wooden lances in the Academy for safety. Some tried to provide their own, especially when dueling. Usually because they were modified in some way to injure the opponent. Sometimes they even had them made to look identical to the Academy lances. That was the catch though. If caught using a lance modified to injure an opponent more than a standard lance it was grounds for expulsion and forfeiture of Knighthood.

That was the universal law. Only the Academy could infer Knighthood. Without it, no matter what title held, it was lower than any with Knighthood and could not battle outside their own borders unless as a registered Solo. One must graduate the Academy to become a Knight. Knights could go to war for themselves or to aid an ally. Without Knighthood, or registering as a Solo, one can only defend their own home. In sanctioned duels the Academy's rules were absolute. Unsanctioned duels were on the honor system. You had to trust the other party to be fair. Unsanctioned duels with First years were forbidden. Second years faced penalties of detention, which consisted of performing Academy work. Third years were allowed and Fourth years usually had one or two to their name already but refused them due to being more concerned with pursuit of points.

Lamia went to the side she knew Jessica favored and set the lances on the rack. One thing Lamia knew for certain, Patrick Fotens would not cheat. He would rely on strength and techniques. He left underhanded tricks to lesser riders. Jessica was the same. If she could not ride honorably then she refused to ride. Lamia waited patiently as the stands filled. She became uncomfortable when she started seeing people recognized as Fourth years. Even more so when she saw the council president, Countess Fiona Doucet. Very few disliked the Countess. She was beautiful and charming with a sense of humor she flaunted. Lamia was tempted to laugh when she saw the Countess crowd close to a Gentry that looked like a First year and say something that made him cringe. Obviously she had said something with a double meaning to tease him. That was to be expected of her by now. It was her favorite pastime as all knew.

The sound of hooves behind her alerted Lamia to Jessica's approach. Lamia went to the the archway and raised her arm. A moment later Emmin Lorcon did the same.

"IN CHALLENGE; PRINCESS JESSICA WEYDEN. IN CONTEST SOLO PATRICK FOTENS," Sir Belvin announced over the speakers.

Jessica entered the arena with her left arm high. Her armor was a bright silver with blue hue to it, polished to high sheen. Aruna carried her helmet and shield. She faced the crowd and pumped her fist twice then took her starting position. Patrick at the other end did the same. The plain finish of his armor showed every mark from hits taken.

Helmets were donned then shields held. slowly Patrick lowered his visor and took the lance from Lorcon and adjusted his horse's position. Jessica snapped her visor down and took the lance from Lamia and gripped it.

"Battle Mars," Jessica said.

The robotic horse now would no longer respond to prompts from the reins, it would only respond from directives from her feet and knees. Spurring it with her heels would make it go forward, tapping with her toes would make him reverse. Pressure from her knees directed him left or right.

"Daemon. Battle," Patrick was heard.

An arena assistant went to the middle point of the lanes and held a flag out straight. He looked from one to the other then raised it and ran to the side.

"YAAAA," Jessica exclaimed and her robotic horse launched himself forward.

Patrick's horse bolted from a stand-still. He settled within three strides and got into a rhythm riding down the lane toward the other end. Jessica was doing the same. From watching him before she knew he usually angled his shield slightly inward and pitched it back. This would make the lance tip glance up and across while he tucked in tight to strengthen his own impact which would be high and to the inside of the center of a shield.

Jessica smiled as they drew close, aiming for the outside of center of his shield. That's when she noticed it was all wrong. He was sitting straight in the saddle. Jessica's smile evaporated as she saw too late that Patrick shifted slightly to an inside angle and his lance arm darted forward a few inches. Everyone in the stands watched in confusion, and Jessica in horror as her lance skid off Patrick's shield harmlessly between them as his own lance slammed her backwards. She literally flipped over backwards in the air to land facing the soft dirt amid the debris of a shattered lance.

The assemblage exclaimed in wonder. This was a new tactic they hadn't seen used by him before. Some cheered for Patrick and others shouted encouragement to Jessica as she clambered to her feet. The arena assistant rushed over and helped her remount as Patrick trotted back to his end. He dropped the shattered lance and took up its replacement from Lorcon.

"I think she was expecting you to do something completely different," Jenette Wazley remarked.

Patrick flexed his legs to settle into his saddle, "yes."

Jenette normally would offer advice as a squire, but she had the very distinct feeling Patrick already had his strategy already planned.

"Need anything," She asked just to be sure.

"I'm good. Thanks," Patrick replied and moved back to starting position.

At the other end Jessica adjusted her shield then took up her lance again.

"Ok that was totally new. Aim for the center of his shield. Even if he angles it you'll still connect enough. Angle your own to deflect in and down. Lean slightly forward to make his lance pitch down and beside. Keep your lance tucked in solid. Don't try to push him off. Just bring him to a hard stop so gravity drops him," Aruna informed her.

"Ok. I'll try that," Jessica said then flexed her legs then urged Mars to the starting position.

The stands were a riot now, cheers for the two going back and forth. The assistant held out the flag then raised and ran clear.

Daemon lunged and began running to carry Patrick down the lane. Mars threw himself forward to race to the opposite end. The opposing riders closed on each other. Jessica felt the solid connecting hit of her lance to Patrick's shield and saw it break but then realized he had absorbed her hit and let his lance arm soften as he made contact then stiffened. Jessica felt herself lifted off then fall directly to the ground. She managed somehow to twist slightly on the way down and land on her left side.

The crowd roared again but Jessica ignored them as she rolled over and clambered to her feet. The assistant ran over and helped her remount again and handed up the shield and lance. Jessica trotted over to her end and discarded the lance. She flipped up her visor and took a drink of water. Luckily she had landed without getting the wind knocked out of her.

"Its two to nothing Aruna. My lance broke, but he still took me off my horse. What now," Jessica asked.

Aruna looked at her and said firmly, "go faster, lean forward more then angle more just as he connects. Forget pitching down. Just deflect down the side. Don't change your aim though. Dead center. If you feel he's solid, shove your shield up and back. Try to roll him off then tighten up for your hit."

"Right," Jessica nodded then handed the bottle back to Aruna.

Lamia handed the replacement lance up after Jessica snapped her visor down. Patrick waited at the starting position. he had two lances left in the rack. Jessica had three. If she stood any chance she would have to stay on her horse, break her own lance on him at least and make his lance deflect off intact. The flag went and the two riders launched themselves at each other. Jessica urged Mars harder and felt him lengthen his stride to cover more ground. Just as they closed to contact she threw herself forward, twisted inward and tightened her torso and lance arm tightly. To everyone's amazement her lance shattered in a loud clash as Patrick was laid flat to his horse's back. Patrick's lance had slid across the width of Jessica's shield.

The stands erupted with a cheer. Apparently everyone liked a comeback. Jessica held the broken lance high as Mars trotted back to her starting point. Many called out to Patrick with encouragement as he passed. He didn't go back to his squires, but merely turned Daemon around at his starting point and re-settled himself to wait.

Jessica discarded the lance and flipped up her visor to drink from the bottle again.

Aruna smiled, "Solid hit Highness! Now he's going to expect you to either do the same since it worked but more likely assume you'll try to go the other way to catch him off guard."

Jessica tried not to nod in agreement but smiled in satisfaction, "sit straight up, angle out leaning back on his contact then hold tight. Aim just low of center dead-on."

The young Duchess smiled, "bring him down!"

"Yes," Jessica replied and handed off the bottle.

The princess adjusted the grip of her shield then snapped the visor down and took up the new lance. Mars pranced over to the start. Jessica settled into the saddle and waited. The assistant checked both riders then signaled to start. Both horses launched into running. Mars had the lighter mount so closed in faster. Jessica flexed as Patrick's lance came to her shield. She twisted away from him. His lance slid outward and down. Her lance slammed in exactly where she aimed and in fact was braced by her shield. Jessica almost whooped as her lance shattered and pushed him almost off while his lance was ripped from his grip and fell away.

Lamia was standing close to Aruna, "was that my imagination?"

Aruna shook her head slightly, "no I saw it too. He shifted into the hit. He probably let go of the lance intentionally too."

"Do you think he'll take it to a fifth charge and draw or bring her down," Lamia asked.

The Duchess sighed, "no. He's going to bring her down on this run. He's going to bring her down really hard."

Jessica had returned and was smiling. Aruna handed up the bottle again.

"This is it Jessica. He's going to try bringing you down again. He's going to aim straight and true for dead center and just hammer you out of the saddle. You'll have to do the same and hold as tight as you can to stay on," Aruna warned her.

Its was rare that Aruna called her by name only. Jessica knew to do so meant she was deathly serious.

"Wait. Are you saying that he gave me that one," Jessica said angrily in a low voice.

The Duchess nodded slightly. Jessica jerked her head around to stare at him down at the other end already in position and waiting.

"That BASTARD," she hissed. "I should call for that charge to be disregarded!"

Aruna said quietly, "not if you're smart you won't! Don't you dare be that stupid!"

Jessica was about to spout back then closed her mouth. Her friend was right. If she disputed the charge then it would reset the contest and they would have to go a full five for five lances and he would make sure he brought her down each time.

Lamia handed up the new lance, "hit him with all your worth princess."

Jessica adjusted her grip then snapped her visor down and went to the start position. She flexed forward and shifted.

At the other end Wazley muttered to Lorcon, "somebody looks really mad."

"Doesn't matter now. The damage is already done. Princess Weyden is about to become VERY acquainted with the ground," Emmin said firmly.

Jenette sighed, "Freya find mercy for her."

The flag went up and the riders charged each other.

"You'd be better off asking for Thor to strike everybody with lightning," Lorcon said watching Patrick's horse streak down the lane.

Jessica tightened up and leaned forward, aiming for dead-center of Patrick's shield. No tricks, no gimmicks or tactics. The lances hit and smashed against the shields. Jessica felt herself being flung back and slamming into the ground. The arena went silent as a graveyard. Aruna and Lamia rushed to Jessica. Gently they sat her up and raised her visor.

"Bring me my purse," Jessica said in a heavy voice. "And my. Sword."

Lamia ran from the arena as Aruna helped her up. A couple of minutes later Lamia returned and handed them over. Jessica took them then walked over to where Patrick had just slid off his horse. He took off his helmet and handed it to Jenette Wazley.

Jessica handed the small bag to Patrick, "There's a hundred coins in there. Count them if you want."

Patrick felt the bag, "its there."

Slowly she extended the sword, "my sword."

"I heard that sword's been passed down fifteen generations," Patrick commented.

Jessica nodded, "at least. From mother to daughter."

Patrick took his helmet and shield from Jenette, "generations you disgraced. Send it home and tell your mother not to give it back until you've learned some manners. Don't ever let me see it again or I'll take claim. You watch your mouth around Solos."

Patrick turned and walked away, "Daemon."

The robotic horse followed his master as they left the arena. Lorcon and Wazley went in the same direction. Aruna and Lamia subtly turned Jessica and walked back with her as the stands emptied amid discussion of the duel.

"Mars. Go with Aruna," Jessica said.

Lamia collected the lances and went to turn them in. Aruna took Jessica's horse, along with her shield and helmet. Jessica made it inside the tunnel then collapsed to the wall and bawled. She stayed there for minutes then felt someone close and looked over. Lorenz Dante leaned casually against the wall.

"Princess you did the absolute most DUMBEST thing in the whole world going up against him," Lorenz said flatly.

Jessica sniffled, "says the guy that said he wanted a full rematch with him."

Dante laughed, "like I had a choice? If I said just the one lance he owed me I'd have been humiliated. He offered the full rematch to save my ass from my father! I owe him BIG. The problem is he can't go easy on me. I can't throw the match either. He has to go full out on me now. I have to do the same. How can I settle my debt to him?"

Jessica gave him a blank look, "I have no idea."

"When we take the ground I have to offer him something. The only thing I can think of for him is armor and shield. But I can't just say I'm going to give it to him. It doesn't work that way. I have to challenge him for it. When he wins, and he WILL win, I tell him that I'll be proud to gift him the armor. That's my situation. Yours is even worse," Lorenz remarked.

"Worse? How can my situation be any worse," Jessica asked in disbelief.

The young man looked straight at her and informed her, "this contest you just did was personal. When he beats me; you're going to have to face him. ALL. OVER. AGAIN."

Jessica Weyden felt her stomach turn over, "OH NO!"

Dante nodded grimly, "yes. He won't play. He's going to completely decimate you. Here's the only advice I can give you. I hope you take it. Do exactly what he told you to do. Send that sword home. When you face him again you go all out but do it fair. No playing around. Give him the best contest you got. That may be the only way to save yourself. Be respectful from now on. You took your personal crap out on him and he rammed it down your throat. Get over that or at least don't ever do it around him again."

"If I anger him personally again he'll inflict a permanent humiliation on me. Won't he," Jessica asked fearfully.

Lorenz turned and started walking away, "I wouldn't want to find that out if it were me. I suggest you find some kind of class about manners. Do it quickly."

Jessica slumped her shoulder and began walking to the royal's wardroom. He was right. She didn't want to find out.
 
 
 
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Chapter 3 of     The Nightmare Rider

"Daemon. Stall," Patrick ordered.

The robotic horse stepped back into the space then stopped. The small panel behind its left foreleg opened and a cable unwound. Patrick took the end and plugged it into the receptacle. The horse shut down. Patrick turned and went to the wardroom.

Jenette Wazley followed him inside. She took his helmet and set it on the shelf of his cupboard then hung the shield on the back wall.

Patrick took off his gauntlets and passed them to her, which she put away then moved around behind him.

"Anything hurt," she asked and began unfastening the torso section.

Patrick shook his head, "I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

"Just earning my pay," Jenette replied taking the front and back pieces and setting them on the stand.

Anyone else would have laughed or made some snide comment since she wasn't a Solo. Patrick was a Solo, and that was actually the correct response.

Patrick sighed and rolled his neck as the right arm pieces were disconnected. Long ago, when armor was made of conventional iron and steel, a full suit was extremely heavy. There was a specific order to the application and removal. Feet, legs then hips in that order. Forearms, upper-arms then torso followed. Gauntlets and helmet were last. Normally the helmet was not donned until on the field and removed when coming off or immediately after the contest. After both his arms were free of the armor he rolled his shoulders. The hip section was slowly removed yet one hand lingered.

Patrick had closed his eyes as he had been working out the slight stiffness he felt in his left shoulder and asked, "something wrong?"

"No. Something VERY nice," a smooth voice purred.

"What's on your mind Doucet," Patrick asked flatly.

The Countess and Head of Student Council tried not to giggle, "there was something before I came in. I've gone totally blank though."

Patrick sighed, "right. I do want to finish getting out of my armor."

"NOVEL IDEA," Fiona exclaimed.

She continued to remove the remaining pieces for his legs and boot coverings and set them in the cupboard then looked over at him. Patrick toe'd off his boots and she set them inside the cupboard. his socks followed but were dropped into a laundry bag.

Patrick wore only a pair of small shorts and an undershirt. He pulled the shirt off and dropped it into the bag. Fiona Doucet leaned back against another cupboard and watched him. Patrick took a towel from the stack and looked over at her.

"Shower," Patrick said to her.

"OKAY," Fiona said enthusiastically, smiled and began to unbutton her jacket.

Patrick shook his head, "just me Doucet. What did you come to talk about?"

The Countess pouted slightly, "spoilsport. You know profit and fun can happen at the same time."

"I doubt I'll meet your expectations and have to give the money back," Patrick commented.

Fiona smiled as she tapped a long nailed fingertip to the edge of her teeth and purred, "you don't know what my expectations are."

Patrick sighed and went to the showers. Fiona moved to stand at the end of the row as he stepped inside one and removed the shorts and hung them and the towel on a hook outside. She waited until he was finished. He was mostly dried and came out with the towel wrapped around his waist.

"One day you're going to run that noble mouth of yours to the wrong person and wind up on the floor making a racket considered to be beneath your station," Patrick remarked.

Fiona reached in and took out a clean pair of the shorts to hold them out for him, "oh?"

Patrick wanted to shake his head as he took them from her. She acted like she was trying to peek hoping the towel slipped free. It was game she often played. He had been informed of her antics when he met the other Solos. The Countess had taken her position as Council Head in her third year and immediately began to make her own mark. Other females had held the position but none were overly friendly towards the Solos. Some even commented that she secretly envied them. The speculation about her virtue was a quiet joke, but no one would ever speak that she was anything other than virgin. Mostly the gossip was that she was the consummate tease and her favorite targets were underclass men of any rank and Solos of any year. Patrick, with his looks, immediately caught her eye. The revelation of his skill kept it. She had even gone so far as to say she hoped he made it to tournament and did well so she could ride against him.

Countess Fiona Doucet was admired both on the field and off. On the field she was formidable, with both strength and technique, frequently unhorsing her opponents. Off the field she was beautiful, charming and kind. She also had the reputation of being more than a little playful in her interaction with males. She enjoyed her flirting when it was taken with grace and returned in kind. More than one noble, and even a royal, regretted it turning sharp when they became lewd towards her. She seemed to always know something embarrassing about them that they didn't want known. That was something the Solos didn't share. They had no embarrassing secrets and couldn't be backed down.

Many royals and nobles were often hypocritical, which was looked down upon. The slightest compromise of their honor was something that could be exploited. Solos were different in that they had a code that they didn't make up as they went along. It was set and they adhered to it, which was documented. For a Solo it was all about the deal. A deal made was a deal kept to the very end. The only time there was any deviation was after the terms were met. A Solo could refuse a pay out if they chose, but had to have a better reason to refuse than accept. That was the reason Fiona was in the wardroom with Patrick Fotens currently. She had her suspicions but wanted to know for sure.

"That was quite the contest out there," Fiona said watching Patrick get dressed into his uniform.

Patrick was buttoning his shirt, "I'm sure you were quite entertained."

"Oh you have NO idea what watching you cross lances does to a girl. I even heard, from somewhere close to me, that a certain girl was going to go change when the match ended. Didn't quite catch who that was," Fiona said seductively.

Patrick grunted in acknowledgement but thought to himself, 'and if I asked who, she'd say herself and invite me to inspect her underwear.'

Fiona knew he wouldn't take the bait and giggled when he didn't disappoint her.

"Alright. Alright. I am curious about something. When Princess Weyden challenged, you stated you wanted a hundred coins and her sword. The heirloom sword. You won the contest and took the coins. Why did you change claiming the sword to sending it home to her family," Fiona asked.

Patrick had put on his pants but not buckled the belt as he sat down to pull on his uniform boots. Fiona handed him one.

Patrick pulled the boot on, "a few reasons. If I had the sword it would be a point of contention for her family. They would try to deal with the Academy to get it back. Another is that others would challenge for the sword on a constant basis to have leverage on her and her family. Three; it would reinforce her attitude but even more personal. Finally her family towards her. Instead of correcting the issue they would be hostile to her. She took something that wasn't about me and made it so. Her family should take something about her and keep it so."

"So you know that her parents will inquire about the match to Dame Ayalla for the truth," Fiona hedged.

Patrick had pulled on the other boot then stood up and stamped his feet to settle them inside then buckled his belt, "I have no doubt."

Fiona walked over and adjusted the front of his shirt but left the top two buttons open, "ah. They'll want to know the real reason, even if she does tell the truth. Which she more than likely will. They'll be very angry and take it upon themselves to; instill a sense of propriety that they missed."

Patrick shrugged into the jacket she held behind him, "I know the story. What happened was normal. Her extended family members weren't even ill treated. Yet she holds the Solos in grudge because if they hadn't been hired then the other kingdom may not have won the battle."

"That's the quick and dirty version," the Countess said as she came around and brushed away any lint or debris from Patrick's shoulders.

"Its not that she thinks nobody can touch her," Patrick commented as Fiona adjusted his jacket collar. "She believes that nobody should be allowed to touch her. THAT'S her problem."

Fiona ran her fingers through his hair carefully to loosely comb it, "a problem you're going to cure her of when you face her after Lorenz Dante."

Patrick pulled his shirt cuffs from the jacket sleeves and gave a non-committal grunt.

"I've read the statements from your regiments and I've seen you myself here in contest. You could have launched her from the back of her horse almost into the stands. As hard as you hit her shield, her pride took more damage. When you face her again you're going to shatter her completely," Fiona summed up.

"That'll be up to her. I'm going to take her off her horse three times in a row. How it affects her will be all on her. She can take it as a loss or she can take it as something else. It won't be my concern. At the end of the day its all business, same as always. I did what I did for a reason and knew what I was doing the whole time. Weyden is bad for business," Patrick stated.

"Oh," Fiona continued to fuss with Patrick's appearance.

"Doucet. Doucet. FIONA," Patrick said to get her attention when she didn't stop.

Fiona paused, "yes?"

"I'm dressed now. My hair is fine as well," Patrick said.

Fiona looked him up and down, "so you are. LET'S START ALL OVER!"

Patrick shook his head, "pass. Anything else?"

Fiona rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek lightly, "this was VERY enjoyable. Are you SURE you're done? Classes are over now you know."

Patrick finally rolled his eyes and hooked a thumb over his shoulder, "out Doucet. Something went very wrong in your upbringing. You seem to want spankings now."

Fiona walked over to the door then looked back and taunted him by twitching her hips with a smile then walked out.

Patrick shook his head and muttered, "the real question is who would have to pay whom if I did it."

Suddenly he felt very tingly inside and had to sit down. A sense of calm settled over him but felt invigorated at the same time. The feeling lasted for several minutes then eased. Patrick stood up then made his way out. He thought back to early that morning. The feeling was the same but this time on a smaller scale. He went out through a smaller gate and hurried down the road. Going through town he nodded curtly to the few familiar faces that caught attention. At the edge he felt alone so hurried even more and began to run after gaining the path in the treeline.

Inside the house he quickly barred the door then stripped and ran into the darkened room. The Glamour of Patrick fell away to the true form of Phoebe as she took up the cloak. Daalumos was standing outside of a shadow and quivering.

"Did you feel it too," Phoebe asked.

The demon chuckled, "OH YES!"

Phoebe took her place on her throne as the feeling swept over them both again.

"Is this Prayer," She asked.

Daalumos tossed his head, "it feels WONDERFUL!"

Phoebe closed her eyes and sought the source. Her vision filled with the shrine of the fallen mortal and a young girl kneeling in front of it.

"Lady Nightmare please hear me. I want to be strong. I want to fight. Help me please so I won't be afraid to fight," the girl asked.

The girl heard a whisper in her mind, "return when the moon has risen."

Phoebe left the girl and felt her presence return to the room.

Daalumos chuckled, "what have you learned?"

"A young girl. She was praying. Well, more like trying to summon. We will visit her after nightfall," Phoebe said.

The demon laughed as Phoebe went to the other room and its large bath. She washed herself thoroughly then put on her armor and sword. Finally she wrapped the cloak over her shoulders.

"Are we to be off now my Mistress," Daalumos asked excitedly.

Phoebe could understand and relate to the Lust's excitement. All of this was new to her as well. She climbed onto his back.

"Yes. Go Daalumos. Follow my feelings. I can hear the girl's crude summons already," Phoebe said.

The bound demon ran through the darkened archway and into the night. In and out shadows he ran leaving the trail of hoof prints in flickering flames.

"Lady Nightmare. I came back as you said. Please help me," a young girl knelt in front of shrine again.

For several minutes nothing then she heard the beating of hooves. She looked up to see the frightening sight of a smoldering horse enter the graveyard and trot over to her. On the monstrous horse with flames slipping all over its body and eyes like glowing coals, sat a beautiful young woman that seemed to have a dull glow about her.

Phoebe looked down, "so I have come child. Why is it you call for me?"

The girl curtsied clumsily, "please Lady. I want to be brave so I can fight. They said you made him so the soldiers were afraid. I want that!"

"He gave me a small offering. I gave him a small boon. He was always mortal child. He was killed. If you fight you can be killed. One day you can become fearsome indeed. I can even add to that. I cannot make you immortal. Warriors fall in battle. That is the way of battle. You must accept that you will still be mortal," Phoebe said.

"Yes Lady. I understand that I'll die one day. Can I still be a great Knight? How can that happen," the girl asked.

Phoebe thought about it then answered, "first you must learn how to fight. Then you must become a Knight. Much of this will be done yourself but there will be times that I help you. You would become a WarPriestess. What of your mortal family? Do they know your wishes?"

The girl shook her head, "I have nobody. They took my mama two months ago. She was all I had. I do things for people to eat and I hide in barns or empty houses to sleep. I can sweep. I can wash things. Will that be enough for you?"

"No neighbor in this village will take you in," Phoebe asked.

The girl shook her head, "I'm a stranger. I ran all day to come here when I heard about you."

Daalumos commented, "she has much anger within her small body."

The girl pointed, "your horse talks!"

Daalumos laughed, "I am no horse mortal child! I am a demon bound in service to my Mistress you have called to."

"A DEMON? A REAL ONE," the girl trembled.

Phoebe chuckled, "he is indeed child. What price will you pay for my rewards?"

"Anything my Lady. I want to be a fierce Knight and kill the ones that took my Mama and hurt her to death. They threw her down and tore her dress off. All of them laid on top of her and bounced. Mama screamed a lot. I had went out to milk the cow and was behind the hay when they came. When I saw them kick the door I jumped into the hay pile and hid. I could see them still. They went inside when it got dark and started breaking things. We didn't have money so they came back out and beat Mama asking where the money was. Mama kept telling them there wasn't any. One of them hit mama so hard I heard a loud noise. Like a stick in the fireplace and Mama made a strange cry. Then they got back on their horses saying they were coming back with more men for her and left laughing," The girl told them as she cried.

"What happened then child," Phoebe asked.

The girl sniffled, "I crawled out and went over to Mama. She told me to run away. Far away. She told me that they looked like men from Ranom. They all wore the same thing. Mama pointed and said to go that way away from them. Then Mama stopped talking. I thought she was sleeping but she wouldn't wake up. She wasn't doing anything. I ran inside and took what I could and ran away like Mama said. A lady told me that Mama had died when I told her what happened. She wanted to take me back to find out everything. Mama told me to run away so I did. I heard some men talking about you so I came here."

"Stay here child," Phoebe said then turned Daalumos around.

Phoebe closed her eyes and reached out with her thoughts, 'Mortal. Mortal who honored my dead! Come to me now! Bring your Lord and Captain!'

Phoebe's thoughts were so loud that Daalumos had heard them as well and shrieked so loud it was almost deafening. After they waited for what seemed like an hour horses could be heard coming. A group of knights raced to the graveyard and pulled their horses back when they saw her.

The young man jumped down and ran over and bowed, "My Lady! I brought my Lord as you commanded."

Phoebe looked over at them standing their horses back, "come unto me Mortal!"

The Lord dismounted, straightened his cloak and strode over then nodded to her, "you wished to see me Lady of Nightmares?"

Phoebe stared at him then said, "Tam Malzeek. You have no daughters. Only one lame son."

Malzeek cleared his throat, "yes Lady."

The Noble did love his son, but felt like a failure that the boy could not follow him.

Phoebe looked back, "come forth child."

The girl came around Daalumos and stood between them and Tam Malzeek.

"I charge you Mortal with this child. Raise her as a daughter of your own. Provide her the finest education and home as if she were of your own. Who leads your army?"

A Knight came forward, "I am Lord Malzeek's captain Lady."

Phoebe nodded, "You are to teach her the way of war. She is to become a Knight. Ranom is her enemy. No friend of yours, yes?"

Malzeek nodded, "they are not Lady!"

"Then you share in an enemy. The girl will be my WarPriestess. Care for her. Teach her. Guard her. Provide her a place of her own to pray unto me. When she is ready for training at the place you send all children to become the best of warriors, make her armor of my service," Phoebe instructed.

"You wish her to become a knight," Lord Malzeek asked to be sure.

Phoebe looked down at them, "I do. I understand you must give that place some tribute. I will provide it."

Malzeek looked down at the girl, "child what is your name?"

"Sania. That's all I know," Sania answered timidly.

The Captain asked, "Miss Sania how old are you?"

Sania looked down, "eleven Sir."

"I will give you my name if it pleases your Lady. Sania Malzeek," Lord Malzeek said.

"It does. Child, he is now your father. Take the name he has given you for your own. Learn well to be a lady, priestess and warrior. No man is to touch you as a woman unless I tell you he may. Mortal. In two of your months I will come to the place you have given her to pray. She will summon me. This is the answer to your prayer child. I am Phoebe. I am the Nightmare Rider," Phoebe declared.

All of the men went down on one knee. Sania knelt down too after seeing them.

"Yes Lady Phoebe. I'll do everything you said," Sania said.

Daalumos felt Phoebe's thoughts and reared up on his hind legs and shrieked as a rush of fire swept up them then fell as shadows enveloped the two and hid them from sight. Daalumos stood very still. He had understood Phoebe wanted to wait and see what the mortals did with the child.

Tam Malzeek let out the breath he had held, "This was not what I expected when you said she was summoning us here. I was concerned she had taken anger of something or other. Sania. When was the last time you dined?"

"Dined? Is that like eating," Sania asked.

Malzeek knelt down, "yes Sania it is. Where did your Lady find you?"

Sania looked down, "here Sir. I ran all day to find this place when I heard men talking this morning. I came here and asked for the Nightmare Lady to come."

Sania told them how she came to be there and pleading for Phoebe's help. Malzeek sighed and nodded.

"I understand now Sania. Come home with me. We will take very good care of you. Your Lady will be pleased and I will do my best to make you happy. If you want you may call me Papa as my son does. I have a wife. Lady Celia Malzeek. She will be happy to help you the way your Mama did. Will that be right for you," Malzeek asked.

Sania nodded, "yes Papa."

"If you would mount your horse Milord I'll hand her up to ride with you," the Captain offered.

Malzeek nodded, "of course Aldo. Quick thinking."

The Lord climbed onto his horse.

Aldo lifted her up, "not to worry little Mistress Sania. In two months I will begin your Knightly teachings myself. I will teach you all I know to prepare you for the Academy. I was a tournament champion when I graduated. You be a fine student when you go there and come out ready to become a great Knight! Up you get Mistress Sania. Tomorrow I'll pick a fine horse for your own!"

Sania gave him a shaky smile as she settled in front of Malzeek, "thank you."

"My name is Aldo Raggins. You are to simply call me Sir Aldo Mistress Sania," Aldo said.

"Yes Sir, Sir Aldo," Sania said.

"One of you men ride ahead and go to the kitchen. Tell them to prepare a meal for our new Mistress then have a maid inform Lady Celia. She'll want to personally see to the preparing of her new room and a bath," Aldo called out.

"SIR," one of the men answered and tore for the castle.

"Walk steady Stanzo. Castle," Malzeek ordered his horse then said to Sania, "not worry. He'll give us a gentle ride for you."

Sania finally seemed to calm down, "yes Papa. Is it far?"

Malzeek smiled, "no my child. Just up the way, we'll be home in just a few minutes."

Aldo looked over and said in a low voice, "my Lord. She has fallen asleep."

Tam sighed, "as well she should Aldo. When we get to the castle, if she will awake we'll feed her quickly. If not I'll have Celia and her maid get her bathed and in bed. Tomorrow will be a very busy day. I have a daughter finally. Celia had lost all hope."

"And of her quest to avenge her mother," Aldo asked.

Malzeek looked down at the sleeping girl, "we will honor it. Train her well Aldo. Make sure my daughter comes back us after her vengeance is served."

The men faded into the distance. Daalumos and Phoebe came out of the shadow as they disappeared.

"And so we have a true beginning now," Daalumos remarked.

Phoebe shifted on his back and nodded, "if they stay true, so shall we Daalumos. Let's go. I'll have to make the most of the coming battles. A full stay at the Academy will take some doing."

The Lust turned and began to trot away with a chuckle, "to collect those trinkets, we will have to conduct much more of our Business. What is it you said? Now we have our Market?"

Phoebe laughed, "indeed! Now that we do have our Market, we must Corner it!"

Early the next afternoon Jessica Weyden came out of the library and ran right into someone.

"Excuse me," Jessica mumbled then looked up, "Vaan!"

"And a WONDERFUL good afternoon to you Jessica! Isn't it a simply SPLENDID day," the fourth year Prince asked.

Jessica found herself in an immediate quandary. She was caught between the urges to slap, hug, strangle or cry on the shoulder of the Prince.

Vaan Arento was the oldest of two Princes and one Princess for Scavlic. He was as over-the-top as anyone came. He took great pride in his blonde hair that hung to the middle of his back and was always impeccably dressed. His uniform bordered between male and female as did his hairstyles, though much of the time he favored a feminine style for his hair. Many of the girls of the Academy fawned over him. That wasn't surprising, he was more than handsome. For a young man he was actually beautiful and he usually made quite sure that it showed. His closest friendship was with Countess Fiona Doucet the Head of the Student Council.

Most of the student body were convinced Prince Vaan was actually bi-sexual and he himself openly admitted to finding both sexes attractive but only on a case-by-case basis.

Jessica turned the prince around, "What have you done with yourself this time? OH FOR THE GODS' SAKE!"

Vaan smiled devilishly. Jessica saw that his hair was braided with purple and white ribbons woven through the length. It was no better than the time he had it in a visible braid style to look like rope across the top of his head and down his back.

"Prince Vaan. Your HIGHNESS," Jessica ground out between her teeth, "your hair is quite the sight. Again."

Vaan stroked the tail end of the braid," Isn't it just? I saw a picture and absolutely HAD to have it Jessica!"

Jessica mentally counted to ten.

"I even incorporated my colors. See," He said proudly, "its simply magnificent! It suits me so well don't you think?"

Jessica was waging an internal struggle not to fall down laughing or scream at him, "Vaan that is a style my mother used to insist on for me at state dinners and balls."

"AH! ITS A FORMAL STYLE," Vaan exclaimed excitedly.

"I was TWELVE," Jessica snarled.

Vaan grabbed her into a hug and stroked her cheek, "oh Jessica please don't be like that. I'm absolutely certain you were ADORABLE! You've grown since then. I bet now the look would still suit you, but instead of the ribbons you should substitute a string of pearls. Yes! A string of gems would be so lovely."

Jessica groaned, "Prince Vaan may I please strangle you?"

Vaan shook his head still petting her, "certainly not your Highness. It took almost all morning to get my cravat to do something besides just LYING THERE. I won't have you ruining it over something so petty as you having a not-so-fun-hair day! It would be an outrage. An insult to fashion world-wide!"

"Only you would say something like that," Jessica sighed in defeat, "at least stop petting me like some domesticated furry thing."

Vaan stopped and looked slightly put off, "oh have it your way Jessica. Do please stop moping about though. You'll ruin complexion!"

The Prince looped an arm around her shoulders and steered her out of the hall and outside to walk.

"Vaan. Honestly; you're nowhere near being the right candidate for grief counseling," Jessica stated flatly.

Vaan laughed, "nonsense! I'm the perfect counselor! Grave matters should be treated trivially. Trivial matters should be regarded with grave import! Look here."

Jessica was turned to face a collection of rose bushes and sighed, "They're lovely Vaan. I'm sure they bloomed just to be in YOUR presence."

"Of course they did! They wanted to emulate my greatness. Unfortunately; they can only come so close. That's beside the point. The point is, they are still beautiful and smell so very sweet. Yesterday was yesterday for them. Today is today. They will do as they do because it is what they do; no matter what happened before," Vaan said as he gestured broadly.

Jessica frowned. As usual he was acting outrageously. The young man was so well known for being flamboyant many were convinced the word was invented for him. In fact the dictionary in the library had a small sticker placed over the true definition of the word and someone even had the label printed to say
 

No one was actually sure who had done it. Fiona Doucet or Vaan Arento himself.

Jessica sat down on a bench, "I'm sure you'll get to your point before I graduate."

Vaan sighed then crouched in front of Jessica and took her hands in his own, "Jessica the world did NOT end yesterday. You did something rash."

Jessica frowned at him.

"Okay you did something foolish AND rash. You did however face it down. You faced up to your defeat with resolve and met with the price you agreed to pay. On the one hand; the Solo showed you mercy and on the other; he did even more damage. That was yesterday. He has moved on. You too must move on. I understand your hatred for Solos. I don't agree with it,but I understand it. To be honest you are being rather selective. You blame the solos for that loss. That is wrong. They didn't go to your enemy and make a deal. Your enemy went to THEM. When the battle is over the solos collect their pay and leave. What happened to your family had nothing to do with them at all," Vaan stated.

"If the solos hadn't been there the battle wouldn't have been lost," Jessica protested.

Vaan looked her directly in the eyes, "and if your Uncle hadn't been drunk and accosted that King's sister there wouldn't have been a battle to begin with and the solos wouldn't have been there."

Jessica sat up in shock, "WHAT?"

"You think the ransom was so high because of who he was? You are SO ill-informed. You were young when that happened though," Vaan sighed in regret for her not knowing the truth.

"There was a gala and your Uncle was there representing your kingdom. He got drunk and went after the King's sister. He refused to listen to reason and even insulted her upbringing. Ask your aunt. She was mortified at his boorish behavior. By the time your father got involved it was well out of hand. Please keep this in mind for the future: Never call a King's youngest sister a whore. Especially if she isn't and her engagement was announced earlier that evening," Vaan said pointedly.

"NO," Jessica protested.

Vaan shook his head, "yes Jessica. I was there. My Uncle and Aunt had me there because there was someone I was to be introduced to. For later on maybe."

"For the Gods' sake Vaan. Wait. What did you say," Jessica stared at him.

Vaan gave her a blank look, "I said I was there."

Jessica glared, "yes yes yes. I got that part. I meant the part you said you were being introduced to someone, for later on maybe. Are you saying you were there to meet a potential bride?"

A glint came to the prince's eyes, "who says they would be my bride? Don't you think I would look LOVELY in all white? And no snide comments from your Highness. I assure you I am every bit as PURE as the day I was born!"

Jessica lost the battle and began laughing hysterically; picturing Vaan Arento gliding down an aisle in a bridal gown waving shamelessly to everyone and a shocked young man waiting at an altar in horror.

Vaan stood up and looked affronted while turned to the side, "surely you don't think of ME as promiscuous? I'm as chaste as the next! And even more so than SOME around here. I do hear such scandalous gossip you know. I fear my ears may burn off!"

Jessica looked anything but a royal princess as she doubled-over holding her stomach laughing and even began to lightly stamp her feet. She was laughing so hard, tears began roll down her cheeks.

Vaan managed to contain his own smile and skillfully snapped the stem of a rose and brought it up to his nose. He gave a look of deep content as he inhaled its fragrance.

Jessica finally calmed down and worked to compose herself. The Prince looked at her seriously.

"I'm so glad you're now able to rein yourself in. I would absolutely dread having to call for the staff to deal with you in such hysterics. They might even think I had something to do with it," Vaan commented.

Jessica snerked, "perish the THOUGHT!"

Vaan carefully broke the thorns away then wrapped her hands around the stem of the crisp white bloom, "we may not be exactly friends, but trust in me Jessica; I have never been your enemy. I will admit there are people I don't care for much. But that is on an individual basis and it IS because they personally have wronged me. That is how it should be."

Jessica sighed and used the handkerchief Vaan pulled from his sleeve to dab at her eyes.

"My father once told me something that I've found very important. Perhaps you will. Solos do not have politics. They are for hire only. They do not share ideologies, morals or friendship. One thing is always certain. Solos are honest and dedicated. They only take what they earn and they only earn what is agreed upon. If you want truth seek a philosopher, if you want fact seek a teacher, but if you want warriors that will not betray you; pay the Solos. Now be honest. Were Fotens not a Solo; you'd be beside yourself trying to gain his attention. He is a solo though. You could have his attention, for a night; for a price," Vaan remarked.

Jessica rolled her eyes, "I am a Princess. Remember?"

Vaan chuckled, "so? You wouldn't be the first to liaise with a Solo. Where do you think my younger brother came from?"

"NO! Seriously," Jessica asked in shock, "do other people know? Does he?"

"Its not THAT big of a secret. Of course he knows. He even met her not long ago. Father paid handsomely and mother gave her approval after reviewing her ledger," Vaan stated. "She even agreed to tutor him for three months before coming to the academy next year."

Jessica still sat shocked. She had heard of it happening but she never heard of anyone that would openly admit to it.

"Oh my. Speak of a devil. And what a handsome devil at that," Vaan said appreciatively.

Jessica looked over and saw Patrick Fotens walking on the other side of the courtyard, oblivious to them.

"Would it do any good to remind you that even if you did successfully negotiate a night of frolic with him, you'd never get pregnant," Jessica commented.

Vaan pouted, "you say such CRUEL things. He wouldn't have to be told THAT part, would he?"

Jessica shook her head and groaned, "I give up. I need to go to class now."

"Hello your Highness," a pair of girls said in unison.

Vaan smiled in delight, "and a WONDERFUL DAY TO YOU!"

Jessica shook her head as the identical girls giggled and blushed walking by.

"YUM! Gentry or not; there is ALWAYS an allure with identical twins," Vaan said then turned to follow them.

Jessica went back to wanting to slap him but got up and went towards class instead. Talking with the prince had changed her mood for the most part. He also gave her some questions to ask of her parents.

Patrick had gone from class to class all day and received looks of curiosity. Everyone knew he had to have had a reason to refuse the sword. They just didn't know what it was. Plus there was the talk of Fiona Doucet sneaking into the wardroom while he was there and Jenette Wazley standing outside the door looking as if she had been caught running naked through the dining hall.

Wazley stood next to his table in the class and held out the coin, "Sorry Fotens. Do want this back?"

Patrick waved her off, "you did enough for most of it. Your mouth stays shut and you can keep it free and clear."

"I know nothing," Jenette said and went back to her seat.

"Psst. Hey Patrick. How about we go to that tavern I heard about this evening," Lorcon asked.

Patrick shook his head, "working."

Lorcon frowned. He would offer to help but knew it wasn't allowed. Solos only took assignments for Solos. If a royal, noble or gentry took an assignment for a solo they would be expelled and the poster for the assignment would never be allowed to do so again. He also knew that Solos wouldn't allow someone friendly around while their were on assignment. Even if it were something tedious and boring such as guard duty, they were on the job and would focus on it.

Emin Lorcon had hoped Patrick would join him at the tavern and relax enough to confide why he did what he did. Everyone was speculating why and if he had the real reason it would make him very popular until the next big thing came along.

Dame Ayalla entered the classroom, "take your seats. We have quite a bit of work to catch up from yesterday."

Everyone quickly set to task and made up the work and covered the day's regularly scheduled lesson. There was five minutes left when she closed them out.

"Is there anything else," the teacher asked.

Aruna stood up, "I have a question Dame Ayalla but its off-topic."

The teacher sighed, "very well. Ask your question."

"Thank you. Have you ever heard of a God or Goddess ever building a shrine or something over a fallen worshiper themselves," the Duchess asked.

Dame Ayalla leaned her hip to her lectern, "I assume this has something to do with the battle I'm sure we've all heard about the other night?"

Aruna nodded, "yes Ma'am. We heard that the Nightmare Rider joined a battle and afterward she built some kind of shrine over one of the fallen soldiers. Rumor has it he worshiped her."

"I guess this is a question shared by the majority of the class," Dame Ayalla asked and noted the many nodding heads.

"Very well. The answer to your question is; No. I've never heard of such happening before and there are no historical accounts of it happening either. I've heard the same things you have and made some inquiries of my own. Not much is known about this Nightmare Rider. We do known that the Rider is a woman and she is reputed to be quite attractive. Some speculate she may be some deposed princess or even a demi-goddess. Now it is true that the Nightmare Rider did build a shrine over a fallen man after a battle, but her reasons for doing so are not clear. Currently there are no details for this Nightmare Rider. Now you know as much as I do," Dame Ayalla informed them.

She nodded to the door and the class began to leave.

"Weyden. A moment," Dame Ayalla said.

The rest of class left even quicker, leaving the young royal behind with the instructor.

Dame Ayalla didn't waste words, "you did something very stupid. That's your business. You did it in MY class. That's my business. You will NOT do so again. Am I clear Highness?"

Jessica nodded, "yes Dame Ayalla. I apologize for disrupting your class and any insult you felt for it. I will not do it again."

"The only thing I will commend you on is telling the truth to your parents. They messaged me at lunch. That is the only part they are proud of. Your mother will be here day after tomorrow to collect your sword herself. She has already requested a meeting with Solo Fotens," The teacher informed her.

Jessica wanted to groan. She knew her mother was going to meet with Patrick and give him a formal apology and even offer him a day's battle wage since it was a personal match. The coins she had already given him her mother was ask him to classify as a battle bonus since he had won.

"That is all," Dame Ayalla said, dismissing the royal.

Jessica nodded, "yes Dame Ayalla. Again; my apologies."

Jessica hurried from the room.
 
 
 
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Chapter 4 of     The Nightmare Rider

Daalumos charged into the fray with a ear-shattering shriek. It was their second night of storming battles. He burst across the battle line at full gallop while Phoebe swung her Vulcan sword cutting down all along their path. Footsoldiers on both sides had succumbed to the influences of both rage and fear. Many were blinded by their desire to kill and were attacking friend and foe alike. Some though had simply fell to the ground from the visions filling their minds of terrifying things. Four Knights wheeled their mounts around and charged toward her. They aimed their lances at the young woman astride the monstrous beast and rode at full run. Phoebe smiled coldly as they drew closer. One dropped his lance then fell off as the other three continued. At the last second she brought her sword up and the glowing lances sparked as the thin field of plasma skittered along the unearthly blade. A quick bump and the long composite shafts jumped upward and were chopped through with a slash of her blade.

In horror the Knight on the right of the formation watched the blade come around to cleave through the neck of his robotic steed then continue on through himself at the waist. More than one saw the knight topple from himself as the horse crumpled to the ground. She chased after the other two and caught them within a moment to dispatch in a similar manner. Phoebe noticed a large group of Knights had pulled back and regrouped to stand off from the battle. She deduced they were Solos. They had been hired to fight against the other army, not her. Phoebe ignored them, they would have nothing to do with her and would actively avoid engaging. She wasn't part of their contract. Daalumos continued along his track bringing them both into another cluster of attacking foot-soldiers.

Soon orders were being called out for retreat. Those that were still themselves obeyed and ran back to their own formations to withdraw. Daalumos slowed to a trot and circled around. A handful still fought among themselves. Others lay mindless in their terror. One was trying to crawl away to rejoin his comrades. A glance at him and Phoebe knew he would not last a few more minutes and plunged her sword into him, melting through the armor and body. When the last two fell to each other's swords Daalumos stopped. Phoebe looked around but fixed her gaze to the group of Solos standing at the edge. They seemed to be in discussion.

Daalumos chuckled, "they seem to be in a quandary."

"Not anymore," Phoebe remarked.

One of the Knights handed off his weapons and helmet then pulled out a black cloth, held it high and walked his mount back out onto the field. He stopped halfway towards her and waited holding his makeshift flag.

"Is he surrendering," Daalumos asked.

Phoebe shook her head, "no. He is asking for parlay. A meeting to at least talk, at most to deal. We'll grant the the request."

Daalumos walked over and stood a few feet back from the hired knight.

"Twenty-ninth Solo Regiment. Commander. Requesting parlay," The Solo stated.

Phoebe nodded, "Phoebe. The Nightmare Rider. Speak Mortal."

The Solo lowered his hand, "we do not wish to engage or be forced to defend. We are Solos and fight for profit only. We've heard stories of you and there is no price we would agree to for fighting you. May we withdraw as is since you were not in our contract?"

Phoebe considered it then asked, "if we grant your request; what becomes of you?"

"One day's wages only. There could be disputed though since the battle had not fully ensued," The Commander explained.

Phoebe understood their position. However she did have her own. Then the thought came to her.

"We will let you withdraw for in exchange for service," Phoebe said.

The Commander regarded her warily, "what do you expect?"

"The warring leaders meet here within the hour to negotiate for war. In exchange you will be allowed to withdraw," Phoebe stated.

The Commander whistled loudly then yelled back, "send me two for parlay!"

Two knights disarmed and rode out. He dispatched them with orders. Half an hour later they returned with the leaders and their captains.

"We are here Nightmare Rider. Why do you interfere in our battle," One asked.

"I have my reasons Mortal. You wish to continue your petty war," Phoebe asked.

The other leader practically spat, "I DO. Without YOUR interference!"

Phoebe noted the nod of the first leader then said, "then you will give me tributes. You. I have heard of a place young mortals go to learn war skills. What tribute is required of one to go?"

The Solo Commander replied, "eight thousand coins for the full tuition."

Phoebe nodded, "then you will share in this tribute. Also the battlefield must be consecrated unto me. Do so and have your war."

The blustering leader spouted, "and if we REFUSE?"

Phoebe smiled and gave him the vision of his home burning with all inside while he was held frozen in place, close enough to feel the heat and hear the screams.

"Very well. You will have your tributes. I will provide half. How is the field to be consecrated," the second leader asked.

Phoebe pointed, "eight swords at each corner of the field and and my art. Invoke my name at your charge."

"I will send two to learn your art then consecrate our side of the field," The first leader said.

The other leader nodded, "as will I!"

The two factions withdrew. Within the hour the two sides had returned and massed. Phoebe and Daalumos sat overlooking the field. Two large bags lay on the ground at his feet. Her name echoed from both sides and within moments the sounds of battle clashed. The two sides raged for hours unconcerned with the dull glow surrounding the field and the two watching. When the bulk of the forces pulled back and unarmed men in white tunics began removing the bodies from the field Phoebe collected the two bags and slung them over Daalumos' shoulders. They turned and rode away. Daalumos laughed as he galloped back to their place.

"I'm quite surprised with your cleverness! You've secured the tribute for the child's placement at the mortals' war school and you provided for us with longer lasting power. I'm impressed! By consecrating the field to us and invoking your name they worshiped and made sacrifice. The consecration is permanent so any future battles will also be tribute to us," Daalumos said.

"And by securing the child's tribute I secure her continued worship and possibly the lure of others to follow in her example," Phoebe said with a smile.

The Lust laughed as they entered the darkened archway, "how droll! You put much thought into that! I'm doubly impressed. I'm slowly starting to believe our union was truly meant to be! I've never been so entertained!"

Phoebe climbed off the demon's back, set the bags of coins to the side then stripped off her cloak and armor.

"To be truthful; I was rather entertained myself at how that worked out," Phoebe admitted then went to her bath.

She lazily bathed then dried herself off and went back to her throne and sat back. She could tell Daalumos was sleeping. Her own eyes drifted closed for the two remaining hours of night. The dawn broke, awaking her. She padded on bare feet to the outer room and created the Glamour of Patrick Fotens and began to dress. It was time to go to school.

It was the afternoon and Patrick had just changed into his armor for training. He was about to unplug Daemon when the stable-hand called out.

"Fotens! Training is delayed. You're wanted in the lounge," the Stable-hand informed him.

Patrick nodded, "I'll go change."

The hand shook his head, "go as is Solo. Bring your ledger too."

Patrick sighed and left. Going around in full armor wasn't exactly subtle but he managed not to create too much noise. Fiona Doucet stood outside the door of the lounge.

"Sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor. I'll announce you," Fiona said then opened the door to lead him inside.

Patrick resisted the urge to comment. The Head of the Student Council wasn't being her usual self.

Fiona stopped several paces back from a woman seated in a winged chair and curtsied, "your Majesty. May I present Solo Patrick Fotens of the Third year class. Solo Fotens, Her Majesty; Queen Lellaa Weyden of Lurbourg. Princess Jessica's mother."

Patrick stood casually as the elegantly dressed woman regarded him very closely then looked to Fiona, "thank you Countess Doucet. You may leave us now."

"I'll be outside if you require anything Queen Weyden," Fiona said charmingly then curtsied and left.

Lellaa remarked after the door closed, "she's a vast improvement over the Council Head when I was here."

"I'm told she has made great strides to ensure the student body gains as much as they can from the curriculum," Patrick replied.

"I would like to see your ledger Solo Fotens," the Queen stated.

Patrick stepped closer and handed it to her. Lellaa Weyden went over the information then handed it back and reviewed another tablet.

The sword lying on the table beside her didn't go unnoticed by Patrick. It was the sword that until recently had been habitually worn by Jessica Weyden. He had expected a trusted Knight to come collect it, not the Queen herself. The Queen set the tablet aside and nodded.

"I've never seen a record like yours. I've encountered older Solos that would like to have such a record," The Queen said flatly.

Patrick knew these weren't direct compliments. She was stating facts. It was obvious the Queen, unlike her daughter, had much experience dealing with Solos.

"I've requested you here to discuss some business. Are you able to negotiate at this time," Lellaa asked.

Patrick nodded, "I have the time Lellaa Weyden."

Lellaa nodded then set a small bag on the low table in front of her, "You were in contest with my daughter. Though it was held under training conditions; it was of a personal nature. You were victorious in that contest. You claimed a prize of one hundred coins as per stipulation. Have you received said coinage?"

Patrick nodded, "I have."

"Did you receive single day battle wage," Lellaa asked.

Patrick shook his head, "I did not."

Lellaa's eyes narrowed, "were you contracted or verbally promised single day battle wage?"

"I was not," Patrick stated.

Lellaa shook her head, "Solo Fotens this is unacceptable. I will correct this immediately. If I may have your ledger I will add the voucher and settle your wage immediately along with the three day non-payment penalty. This should have been brought to my attention sooner."

Patrick handed over his ledger again. The Queen transferred the voucher to it after creating one in her own tablet then counted out the coins from her bag and handed them over. Patrick held the coins in his hand and frowned.

Queen Lellaa looked at him for a moment then winced, "in my quest to ensure all was above board I overlooked a critical detail. You're in your armor and no place to put your pay. I believe that does answer the question of where my daughter gets her impetuous streak."

She took the coins back from him and slipped them into a hidden pocket of her short cloak and handed him the bag instead, "please take the rest in payment for your silence of my MONUMENTAL blunder. I suddenly feel lower than a First year on her first day!"

Patrick attached the bag to a point at his hip, "I have no idea to what you refer Lellaa Weyden. Shall we continue?"

She nodded, "yes. My apology for being so EASILY distracted. I wanted to bring up the matter of possession of the Weyden heirloom sword."

Patrick nodded that she should continue.

"You had initially claimed the sword as part of your victory penalty. Yet after said victory you changed the disposition and declared the sword be sent home to return to my possession. This is adjustment to forfeiture," Lellaa stated.

Patrick shook his head, "it is within the terms. I stated the contest would cost her then specified one hundred coins and the sword she wore. I never stated what would happen to those. The disposition of the sword was mine to determine, never intending to take possession of it personally. I chose my words specifically."

Lellaa's jaw hung open at the revelation. The Solo had outsmarted EVERYONE from the beginning! She began to chuckle then laugh openly. For several moments she laughed, occasionally shaking her head in disbelief. He had also performed the Weyden family a favor, without doing them a favor because it benefited him more than them without any additional cost or expenditure. In short, good business decisions.

Finally the Queen regained some composure and said, "never before has Lurbourg, or the Weyden's for that matter, been so cleverly outmaneuvered! I feel like you've been VASTLY underpaid!"

Still smiling the Queen strode to the door and yanked it open to see Fiona outside looking stunned. The Queen wasn't so dense as to think she would not be listening in. Apparently the revelation had been quite the surprise to her as well.

"Countess Doucet. Fetch the Headmaster," the Queen ordered.

"Your Majesty," Fiona replied and turned to go.

Fiona spotted the Headmaster approaching fortunately and waved him down. He came over and entered with Fiona in tow.

"Queen Weyden; you have need of me for something," The Headmaster asked.

Lellaa was working at her tablet and nodded, "I do. Since Countess Doucet is in company, she may also bear witness."

Fiona was shocked, "if you insist your Majesty."

Lellaa smiled, "I do. Solo Fotens. After reviewing your Battle Ledger, Academic logs and meeting you personally I have determined that I wish to propose Liaison."

Only Patrick seemed unfazed by her statement.

"Upon higher placement at the end of Tournament than my daughter, I propose a Liaison with Princess Jessica Weyden for an heir to Lurbourg upon graduation. If Tournament champion, then I will want the immediate Liaison with my Princess and her graduation delayed one year," Lellaa said then handed over the tablet for him to sign.

Patrick read over the terms. The settlement was very high.

"A limited edition Cavalier model WarHorse; calibrated to personal specifications. Personally fitted armor of my colors, with shield. Complete Campaign Voyage outfitting and seventy-five thousand coins," Patrick read aloud.

The Headmaster's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Fiona Doucet almost staggered back. That kind of settlement had never been offered right out of the Academy; much less in it! Essentially it was everything a Solo needed to make their way in the world. Most worked at least three years to complete a basic complement and she was offering a full top of the line set up!

Lellaa smiled broadly, "the fine print. If the heir is a girl; I'll upgrade the WarHorse to a Paladin model!"

That was the best model. Kings and Queens rode those.

Patrick re-read then signed, "acceptable."

"Queen Lellaa this is beyond unusual," the Headmaster finally found his voice taking the tablet Patrick handed to him.

Lellaa smiled in satisfaction, "I've made proposal and its been accepted!"

He sighed, signed it then passed to Fiona, "The terms are as stated and have been accepted."

Fiona signed it then handed the tablet back to the Queen, "v-verified and witnessed."

Lellaa smiled as she took it back then send the contract to Patrick's Battle Ledger. She went over to the chair she had been sitting in. She took up the heirloom sword then a long bag. She passed the bag to Patrick on her way out.

"The non-refundable deposit Solo Fotens. I look forward to watching the Tournament. Personally," the Queen said then walked out looking extremely pleased with herself.

Patrick opened the bag to see an ornate dress-sword lacking only a personal device to be etched into the pommel.

"A sword," Fiona asked.

Patrick nodded, "in the fine print."

"Countess. I'd like to see my daughter. Would she be at the arena now," the Queen asked.

Fiona nodded as Patrick passed them by, "Yes Your Majesty. I'll escort you."

At the arena Sir Belvin greeted the Queen as an old friend and directed her to join her daughter to the Royals' Wardroom.

"I never thought you'd come yourself Mother, "Jessica said as the assistant removed her armor to store in the cupboard.

Lellaa frowned, "you thought I would send someone? After your catastrophic action? Perhaps I should speak to the Headmaster and have you repeat your first two years!"

Jessica glared at her, "NO THANK YOU MOTHER!"

"Then I suggest you develop some intelligence very quickly before you repeat such a thing," Lellaa commented.

Jessica sighed then sat down on the bench after the last piece of armor was put away and the assistant curtsied to the two and left. Jessica slipped the silk tank-top off along with the shorts then quickly showered. Her mother watched as she finished drying and slipped on her panties and bra. Had anyone else been in the room the young princess might have been uncomfortable to sit so scantily clad.

"Mother. I have something on my mind. If I ask a direct question may I please have an honest answer," Jessica asked.

Lellaa nodded, "I have never lied to you. Ask."

Jessica took a deep breath then asked, "the battle that we lost and Uncle Rom, Aunt Adinee and the cousins were taken ransom; what started it all?"

The Queen rolled her eyes, "that? All that started because your IDIOT uncle got drunk and made disgusting advances to King Daarmore's youngest sister on her engagement night at the reception. He never drank well, and when he drank he would usually chase after any woman that caught his eye. Your Aunt, bless her, has done so much to contain him but that night he was beyond any restraint. That pig accosted the young woman and was even trying to tear the dress from her. He was caught and stopped before he could get any further. When confronted about it he took a handful of coins and tossed them at the King, claiming 'more than the going rate for a whore'. By the time any of it was brought to our attention the battle was over and the ransom terms had been issued."

Jessica looked horrified, "oh by the Gods!"

Lellaa sighed, "your father quickly agreed to the ransom of your Aunt and cousins. Your Uncle he was hesitant about paying. To be honest; he almost didn't. The only reason why he finally did was to prevent ongoing animosity between the kingdoms. Your Uncle agreed, for his life; to never leave his own castle again. Why bring all this up?"

"I AM such a fool. A complete and total IDIOT," Jessica moaned into her hands.

Lellaa Weyden glared at her in comprehension, "For the Gods' sake! Has the loss of that battle been your sole reason for this incessant hatred for Solos? All this time?"

Jessica simply groaned and nodded while holding her head in her hands in self-defeat.

"Then this is REALLY going to make you feel bad. The Solos that king hired for his army; there were only five of them and they weren't even allowed to fight. The King pulled them from the charge and paid them the battle wage for coming though he didn't need them. They weren't in the battle at all," the Queen informed her.

Jessica's jaw dropped but she recovered, "But even Father said there were Solos brought in for the battle on their side."

Lellaa nodded, "yes. They were hired and were there. But they were pulled before the charge and there was only five. Why would you think otherwise?"

"Uncle," Jessica said woefully. "He told there was at least a regiment and half!"

Lellaa glared, "was he drinking when he told you that?"

Jessica nodded sadly.

Lellaa pointed her finger directly at her, "you are FORBIDDEN from visiting their castle and he will NOT be allowed to visit you! His stupidity continues to rear its head!"

"Yes Mother. I'm sorry to cause trouble," Jessica said looking at the floor.

"I'll deal with your Uncle. You will change your ways immediately," The Queen said firmly.

Jessica went over and knelt in front of her mother and took her hands, "I will Mother. I swear it! I will put the past behind and focus on the future!"

"That's the spirit my child," Lellaa Weyden smiled. "In fact I've already been doing that very thing. I have something very good lined up for you. Possibly VERY soon!"

Jessica smiled, "really? What is it Mother?"

Lellaa smiled in satisfaction, "I've negotiated a future Liaison. Your first heir will be from it. I've made the proposal with Solo Patrick Fotens! Isn't that wonderful dear?"

Jessica squeaked as she looked at her mother in horror then fainted and fell to the floor.

Fiona Doucet had been standing outside the door and leaned in when she head the heavy, falling sound.

Lellaa looked over, "not how I expected her to take the news."

Fiona came over and maneuvered Jessica onto the bench to lie down, "honestly your Majesty. When she comes to and you confirm what she thought she heard; she is either going to go hysterical or fly into a murderous rampage. Her first target is a toss up; either yourself or Solo Fotens!"

"Countess. Do I detect a bit of personal interest? Are you yourself interested," Lellaa asked slyly.

"I've flirted. He's the only one that has actually remained immune to my charms. Though the other day I may have ALMOST went too far in my teasing," Fiona admitted laughing.

Lellaa arched an eyebrow, "oh?"

Fiona blushed as she laughed, "for a moment I thought he was seriously considering pulling me back into the Solos' Wardroom and spanking me!"

Lellaa joined her laughter, "pity my days are behind me. I would pass over Jessica and Liaise for myself! I'd love to see him contest."

Fiona laughed, "oh now that would be wickedly scandalous your Majesty! Please stop BEFORE I wet myself!"

Patrick had his armor removed and got dressed. When dressed he attached the new sword to his belt and carried the Academy issued sword over to the armory and turned it in. The Armorer commented of the new that it did look rather expensive and congratulated him on acquiring it. He then went back over to the arena and stood out on the lanes and leaned against the divider rail.

Sir Belvin walked up and mirrored the Solo.

"Busy day Fotens," the Jousting Instructor asked.

Patrick nodded slightly, "more than I thought it would be."

Belvin nodded downward, "nice addition."

"Non-refundable deposit on future service," Patrick commented.

Belvin stared at the pommel and noted it remained blank, "obviously you didn't sign up with somebody. Who secured the service?"

"Lellaa Weyden," Patrick said flatly.

"Lellaa? FUTURE service? Oh no. Tell me she didn't just negotiate a Liason to Jessica with you," Belvin asked.

Patrick nodded, "If I place higher in Tournament. If I win it'll be immediately."

Belvin's jaw dropped, "She DIDN'T! Oh Gods; she DID! Does the Princess know?"

The Solo shrugged, "she wasn't there."

A young woman was rushing past.

"What's the hurry," Belvin asked her.

"I have to go to the Royals' Wardroom. Princess Weyden fainted they said," the nurse said without stopping.

"Guess that answers THAT question," Patrick remarked.

Belvin shook his head, "that girl is going to kill the both of you when she can stand up."

Patrick gave him a side glance, "not hardly."

Belvin sighed, "well you should go ahead and cut out for the day before she tries today."

"If you say so," Patrick turned and started to leave.

"Fotens," Sir Belvin called back then asked, "why'd you agree to it?"

"With the settlement she offered; I'd never get another job if I turned it down," Patrick said flatly then left.

Daalumos stepped out of the dark shadow and regarded Phoebe intently.

"Oh what IS this delight? You've found a new torment to inflict! Tell me all about it," the demon giggled excitedly.

Phoebe sat on her throne and relaxed, "its nothing. The mother of the princess that hates my alter-ego has made a proposal to produce an heir with the princess."

"And you accepted? Oh what a torment INDEED! This is torment in its purest form my Mistress," Daalumos laughed hard.

Phoebe gave a non-committal shrug, "I suppose it may be."

The Lust was beside himself with mirth, "I suppose your mother's influence has finally revealed itself. Poena would thoroughly enjoy herself with that. For added measure she would probably ensure everyone the mortal knew were aware of it!"

"She probably would," Phoebe sighed. "More than likely she would invite many to watch it happen."

Daalumos snorted and tossed his head, "that sounds much like something she would do! Are you worried about performing the servicing?"

Phoebe shook her head, "no. The Glamour will allow it. There would be no power transfer through the Glamour into the offspring. I don't think it would since it is under false pretense. She is not wanting to couple with a God or Goddess. She will only be intending to couple with a mortal. If she was doing so out of worship to a God and no Glamour then definitely yes there would be a gracing or cursing. She isn't doing so as worship so it will not happen and the offspring will be as normal as she. Not that I could get her pregnant as a Goddess. I have to use a Glamoured form. She will bear a child, but it would only inherit things from the Glamoured form and herself."

"Zeus made it happen though," Daalumos said.

Phoebe shook her head, "not really. Zeus only disguised himself as mortal men, never a woman. Each time just before he bestowed his seed he revealed himself and some mortals accepted his Divinity. For all the ones that did, ten times more denied. Otherwise the world would be overrun with his half-mortal whelps."

Daalumos chuckled, "that is true. He is one of the more lecherous Gods. I've heard some say he should have been the God of procreation instead!"

Then Daalumos begin to laugh again.

"What now," Phoebe asked.

"I just realized it. Having any kind of personal relation with you is probably her worst nightmare. To have it orchestrated by her own mother is the ultimate punishment," the Lust stamped his feet in amusement.

Phoebe took a moment then began to laugh as well. Put into words as he had; Daalumos was right. Suddenly they felt a now familiar tingling.

"Ah. The little priestess," Daalumos remarked.

Phoebe nodded, "yes. I can hear her. Its becoming much easier with her frequency. Wait. She is asking that we visit her tonight."

"Her new father has fast workers to build something to you in such short time," Daalumos commented.

"Its not finished but she is using it regardless," Phoebe said then sent her thoughts to the child. "When the moon has risen we will come."

The sun was already setting so Phoebe went to bathe and prepare. Soon enough the bound demon was moving in and out of shadows to carry Phoebe to their summons.

Sania knelt in the small unfinished structure, "I'm here Lady Phoebe. I hope you like this place."

The sound of hooves startled her and she turned around.

"So child. This is the place they are providing," Phoebe stated looking around then nodded, "when they've finished, it will do."

"Papa is being so nice. I have a new Mama too. Sir Aldo picked out a horse for me. I wanted to name it Phoebe for you but he said I should ask your horse what would be a good name," Sania informed them.

Daalumos chuckled, "that was very respectful. I offer you the name Lamudos for your steed."

Sania nodded to him, "thank you demon. I don't know your name."

"And you can not be told it Mortal. If you want to call me something then call me the same name and that will please me little priestess," Daalumos replied.

"Thank you Lamudos for the name. I asked that he be black like you. Papa and Mama brought in priests and priestesses and they told me that each God and Goddess like different things but since you come to me I shouldn't guess, just ask how you want me to worship you. They also said I need to offer you something. Mama suggested a special dress and shoes for you," Sania informed them.

Phoebe climbed off Daalumos and went inside the small shrine and looked around. Already there was an altar slightly back from the center of the unfinished room. Phoebe went outside and looked around.

"Remove your clothes child and leave them over there. Good. Now take that water and pour it completely over yourself," Phoebe instructed.

Sania did as she was told and now stood completely drenched.

Phoebe pointed, "take from that tray a chisel and hammer. I see a small knife, take that as well. Now come inside."

Phoebe had her stand at the altar and prick her finger with the knife then guided her hand to draw the art on the altar along with her name in the language of the Underworld.

Phoebe looked over the work and nodded, "good. Now use the hammer to strike the chisel on the lines of the art and my name. Every eight strikes say the words 'I consecrate this temple in the name of Phoebe of Nightmares.' You must do this until the lines are deep."

Sania did as she was instructed under their watchful eyes. She had to go over the design twice to ensure the depth was to satisfaction. Then listened carefully and nodded.

Phoebe watched as Sania climbed up onto the alter and laid down. Phoebe had to use her own teeth to open a small point on her finger then drew her art on Sania's chest then pelvis.

Sania recited, "I am Sania. Taken daughter of Malzeek. I consecrate this temple in the name of Phoebe of Nightmares. On myself her Art and name as priestess. I pledge myself in her service, Phoebe of Nightmares. I am yours."

A glow surrounded the girl, the altar, the small shrine, Daalumos and Phoebe. Phoebe leaned down and kissed her forehead, lips, above the heart then pelvis. Sania arched with that final touch and shook. A small bit of power flowed into her. It was almost more than her small body could withstand. Finally she settled back onto the altar, panting heavily as if she had run a long distance.

Phoebe turned and looked at the doorway. A woman was kneeling in it.

"You were sent by the Mortal Mistress of this place," Phoebe stated.

Fearfully the young woman nodded, "I am Mistress Sania's maid. My Lady had suggested that Mistress Sania make an offering of dress for you. I only ask to see to the size if the offering would please you; Phoebe of Nightmares."

Phoebe considered it then nodded, "very well Mortal. Attend me."

Phoebe took off her cloak and as an afterthought draped it over Sania as she still lay on the altar resting. The maid took a piece of cloth from her pocket and used it to take measurements. She then set a blank piece of paper on the ground.

"May I remove your boots and ask you to stand here so I may draw your feet for shoes," the maid asked.

Phoebe nodded, "so I am to be completely outfitted. Go about it then."

The Maid struggled but finally managed to take Phoebe's boots off then traced around her feet on the paper and measured across the tops. She then assisted putting Phoebe's boots back on.

Phoebe turned to Daalumos, "give her the slightest of touch."

The bound demon entered the shrine and stood at Sania's head then spoke in the language of demons, "when you face your enemy on the battlefield you will know anger. When your enemy's sword clashes to yours you will know rage. Ride fury to carry you to victory as you do your steed."

The Lust then pressed his mouth gently to her forehead in a rough kiss. Sania shivered then let forth a slight growl. Daalumos chuckled and stepped away.

"Please don't take her from us Lady of Nightmares," a voice asked behind them.

Phoebe turned to see the maid had returned and was accompanied with another woman regally dressed.

"You are the wife of Malzeek. You are Celia," Phoebe stated looking at the woman intently.

Celia Malzeek rushed forward and knelt in front of Phoebe, "Please my Lady. Do not take her from us. I've longed for a daughter of my own. Every prayer went unanswered until you brought her to us. Please don't take her now."

Phoebe commanded, "rise Mortal. Come inside."

Celia stood up and followed her in and knelt beside Sania.

"She merely sleeps. She has been given gifts and must rest now. It is quite the enterprise for one so small to ask for so much. It must be given over time. The child is fine I assure you. She will sleep until midday. From now on she will not suffer childish fears," Phoebe explained.

Celia nodded, "I thank you for that. Your companion. I heard mention he is a demon. He has done something as well?"

Daalumos chuckled, "I am no ordinary demon Mortal. I am a Lust. A BloodLust. I have given her a touch of rage. Only a touch. It will only serve her when she fights. As she grows, so will my gift. But I must bestow it myself. When she has become of age then I will give her the gift of an unbridled passion. Her love will have no bounds."

Celia looked at the sleeping girl then turned back, "what offering must I make to be free of my fear of losing her?"

"If I took that from you, you would not care if you did lose her. That particular fear serves us all the better than you without it! I have a much better idea. Instead of taking your fear, you will be given fury. This fury will be provoked should the child be in danger beyond her scope. This will drive you to protect her. Is that not a more appropriate gift for a mother," Phoebe asked.

Celia nodded quickly, "what offering must I make?"

Phoebe said seriously, "you must share in her faith."

Celia moved over to kneel before Phoebe, "we will claim you as our Goddess! What must I do?"

"Fetch your sword and shield," Phoebe instructed her.

The Noblewoman rushed off. She returned within minutes carrying her sword and shield. Her husband in tow with his own.

Phoebe looked at him, "you wish to share in this as well?"

Tam Malzeek held his sword forward, "I do!"

"Join your daughter in my shrine as she is," Phoebe instructed them.

The maid brought them each a bucket of water as they stripped then used them to douse themselves. The couple then entered into the shrine and knelt before the altar. They held their shields forward and raised their swords and crossed them.

"On your swords and shields do you pledge all within your power and command to the protection of this child," Phoebe asked.

They both answered, "we do."

A soft glow began to form around them.

"On your vows to each other; as man and woman, husband and wife, do you take this child for your own daughter to raise, adore and teach the ways of life until she claims that life for her own," Phoebe asked.

"We do," they answered.

Phoebe looked at them harshly, "On your honor as Knights will you grant her all she will require to achieve her vengeance against those that stole her home and family?"

Tam and Celia answered firmly, "we will!"

"To whom do you make this pledge," Phoebe asked.

They spoke clearly, "Phoebe of Nightmares. Our Goddess we pledge and make offering."

They used their swords to make small cuts on their arms and dripped the blood onto the altar.

The glow enveloped them completely as their blood dripped on the altar. Daalumos came forward and spoke again in the language of demons.

"By sword and shield and body, guard well this child you take as your own. When her danger is beyond her ability you will be consumed by a fury that will not rest until her threat is destroyed. Your love is your fury. In the name of your Goddess you have pledged," The Lust gifted them.

"Seal your oaths as you sealed your vows," Phoebe commanded.

Tam pulled Celia to him and kissed her fully on the lips. Both felt an immediate wash of rage and love. A growl escaped through their kiss and the glow faded into them.

"It is done," Phoebe stated.

Celia bowed her head, "thank you for these gifts My Goddess."

Phoebe had felt power flowing into her the whole time, it now spiked even higher. She felt as if she were heavy enough to crack the stones under her feet, yet light enough to float over the castle to her back.

"Your servant informed me you wish to make an offering of clothing," Phoebe stated.

Celia nodded, "yes My Goddess. A gown of the finest silk for your beauty and sandals to flatter your grace."

Phoebe gave her a look of approval, "This pleases me. Have it in black tinged with red. The colors of shadows and blood. I will return in five nights time. You, yourself, shall attend me. Celia of Malzeek."

Phoebe went over and took back her cloak then gently lifted up Sania and passed her sleeping form to Tam Malzeek. She then climbed onto the back of Daalumos and turned him to face them.

"Bathe her and put her to bed. In five nights I will return. I will see you on that moon-rise," Phoebe stated then entered a shadow and was gone.

Tam bowed carefully, holding their daughter as Celia curtsied.

Both replied, "yes My Goddess."

Within moments the hoof prints of flicking flames died and they gathered their things and went back inside their castle.
 
 
 
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Chapter 5 of     The Nightmare Rider

Jessica slowly opened her eyes. It took her a few moments to realize she was in her bed in her dorm room. The sun had already risen. A glance at the clock told her she had two hours before the start of school.

"So you decided to rejoin us," her mother's voice came from the doorway.

Jessica looked to her, "Mother! I had the most horrible of dreams!"

Lellaa Weyden waved the maid behind her to leave them then sat down on the side of Jessica's bed.

Jessica hugged her tight, "it was a nightmare Mother."

Lellaa patted her back and asked, "let me guess. You dreamed that you had been lied to, your hatred for Solos has been unfounded and that I arranged a Liaison for you with one named Patrick Fotens?"

Jessica pulled back and stared at her, "you mean; it wasn't a dream?"

To Jessica's horror her mother simply shook her head.

"WHY? Why would you do that to me? Is my humiliation to be forever," Jessica cried.

Lellaa stood up and walked over to the window to look outside. She was silent for several tense moments.

"You think I am punishing you with something degrading," Lellaa said staring out the window.

Jessica nodded and sobbed, "how could that be anything else? I was wrong for hating him just for being a Solo, I'm willing to admit that in any way to make amends. But to Liaise with him? Mother how can that be seen as anything BUT a degrading punishment from you and Father?"

Lellaa Weyden turned around and looked at her, "simple. Its a Liaison. Your Father and I have spoken on this and he is in agreement. He's rather impressed with Solo Fotens. Once its confirmed you are pregnant, he will collect his gratuity and go his way. As all Solos do. This is neither degrading nor a punishment. If I were of the mind to do THAT; you wouldn't be having a Liaison."

Jessica stared in horror of that implication. Her own mother had just practically said that she could have easily negotiated marriage instead!

"Not THAT! Please Mama NOT THAT! I'm sorry! I'm sorry Mama," Jessica whimpered in terror.

Lellaa had taken to walking around the room aimlessly, "oh if I really wanted you to suffer I'd marry you off to some Noble that would have you as no more than a decoration. The thought of taking you down to the main hall and stripping you of that gown to administer a spanking that an abused peasant girl would find a relief from her usual torment would fit if I were of the mind to degrade you."

For a moment Jessica actually considered asking her to do that instead of what she already had in store for her.

"I'd like to say that only your foolish pride is all that has suffered a slight ding. Unfortunately you've not done much of anything worth being proud of, "Queen Weyden continued. "So that point is moot, of course."

A knock at the door interrupted them followed by Fiona Doucet coming in.

"Pardon my intrusion my Ladies. I came to look in on her Highness," Fiona said gently.

Lellaa nodded and waved her on, "of course Countess. You do have your duty. By all means. I think I'll go down and breakfast with the Headmaster."

Fiona nodded, "as you wish your Majesty. I'm sure he'll enjoy your company."

Queen Lellaa left the room. Fiona looked at Jessica then went into her bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth and wiped at her face gently.

"Am I really so horrible Countess? Do I really deserve this punishment," Jessica sniffed.

Fiona sighed, "I think this is the part where I'm supposed to hug you and tell you that you're being severely mistreated."

Jessica looked up at her to see Fiona give her a very frank look.

"That's not going to happen. To be honest; you're a bitch. A pompous one at that. Don't even think of arguing your mother taking charge of you once again. Not after all the remarkable successes you've been reaping in," Fiona said with heavy sarcasm.

Jessica's jaw dropped. Until this morning nobody have ever given her a dressing down like this, but here she was getting it twice.

Fiona sat down and crossed one shapely leg over the other, "you want to get down to it? You're stuck up. You think you are the be all, end all. In reality; I personally could take you off your horse with every lance. I reviewed your contest with Fotens. He GAVE you two lances! When you go up against him again, he won't even do that. The only male here that will have anything to do with you is Prince Vaan Arento. For now. Without intervention, even he will turn away and that's saying something! If I pulled half of what you've done, my parents would have come here, yanked me out of the Academy and spanked me, naked, all the way home during my first year. I may play around PRINCESS; but only because I have, and still do, produce RESULTS my family approve of."

With wide eyes Jessica sat in shock.

"You have no idea how MANY times I've had to stop others from simply going over and literally try slapping some sense into you! To be frank, I've only stopped them because its my duty. Personally I'm surprised that someone hasn't tried to take your foolish head OFF during contest. Right now, as it is, there's heavy talk of trying to keep you out of Tournament among the students," Fiona informed her.

Jessica looked down, "how many people know what really happened against Fotens?"

Fiona thought about it for a moment then answered, "me, Sir Belvin, your two friends and Fotens himself. Your friends only know he gave you the second of the two lances. They suspect he may have given you the first. Thankfully your mother hasn't reviewed the contest or she'd REALLY have it in for you. If she knew what really happened out there, she'd have pulled you immediately and would start trying to find a way to produce another heir!"

Jessica skittered back until she hit the headboard, "Gods no!"

"Oh trust me there are worse things than what she has in mind for you! Like; becoming a Tower Maiden. The legend is true you know," Fiona said pointedly.

Jessica cringed, hugging her knees to her chest. All Noble and Royal girls knew the story. Most of the Gentry did as well, particularly those training for Knighthood. The story went that a girl born to parents that had both been Tournament champions and undefeated in official battles had sent their first and only daughter to the Academy. Her attitude and performance were so horrible they pulled her after Tournament her third year and locked her in a tower of their castle. There she was kept and the only contact she had was a maid that brought her food and the constant barrage of Liaisons. In short, she was consigned to being nothing more than a high echelon breeding girl. Some said the girl was a high noble but more insisted she had been born royal. Over the years details became fuzzy. No one could really remember what her birthing had been or which kingdom she had come from. In some of the telling; the story ended with the girl finally birthing a daughter that was taken in replacement and in anguish, she threw herself from the tower to her death. Tower Maiden was the ultimate threat to any girl that chose to become unruly.

Boys had it easier. They would simply be disowned and sent away. That didn't happen very often and those that did occasionally joined Solo groups. Those were widely known too. There was very little effort made to conceal their identities. Solo Regiments or Companies that took in such deposed persons did so grudgingly. The probationary time for them tended to be longer than others that joined.

"Who do I pray to to be born again and start all over," Jessica cried.

The Countess stood up, "your life is whatever catastrophe or conquest you make it. You have not been wronged, but you've done plenty to others. The day is new. Let that be your sign as to start atoning for your transgressions. Now compose yourself and get going Jessica Weyden; Princess of Lurbourg. I'll have no pity parties for self-inflicted stupidity."

With that the Student Council Head turned and went out, carried by her trademark elegant strides. All First year girls envied her walk and most tried to copy. One foot placed almost directly in front of the other, short extension and delayed back-step. It caused her footsteps to be light with a sharp report. The slight twist of her hips gave her butt a seductive sway which caused her skirt to swing sassily. Over ninety percent of the males in the Academy admitted to being capable of watching her all day. Like most females her boots had a high heel to them, though her boots had a heel that was slimmer than most and higher. Also Fiona's boots weren't the standard pull on kind. They laced up the front, but instead of cord laces she substituted ribbons of her family's colors.

Jessica sniffled and wiped at her tears again then got out of bed to go shower and ready herself to face the day, with all the enthusiasm of one preparing for their own funeral.

The Headmaster was trying to not enjoy breakfast with his old student, now a Queen, Lellaa Weyden too much. He had no problem in the past admitting that she had been a favored student of his. It wasn't difficult to entertain her as she was doing quite well at entertaining them both. Even going so far as to clearing up one of the minor mysteries during her attendance. He did notice that she would occasionally glance over to the table occupied by Patrick Fotens. The young Solo sat alone, as usual, reading notices.

"Pardon me Headmaster," an office staffer said behind him then added when waved forward, "this just came in."

The Headmaster took the message and read it. Lellaa sipped her drink in quiet curiosity.

The old man sighed and folded the missive then said quietly, "tell Fotens to join me in the corridor."

Lellaa was all ears now, he had mentioned Patrick specifically. She counted to ten then followed.

"You wanted to see me Headmaster," Patrick asked in the corridor.

"I did. A request has come in. You've been asked for by name. The name Dennly Flagan holds significance to you. Yes," the Headmaster asked.

Patrick nodded, "yes Sir. He was the Commander of the Eighty-Sixth FreeLancers until his death in battle eleven months ago. I was under him directly."

"Unofficially you're attached to the Seventy-Fifth. Officially you're the only remaining member of the Eighty-Sixth. Commander Cardoon of the Seventy-Fifth said that an old friend of Flagan inquired where any remaining members of the Eighty-Sixth could be found and it was mutually agreed that you're the only one. A merchant wishes to hire a member of the Eighty-Sixth as escort to a shipment. This assignment would only take two and a half, maybe three days. This is within your charter as a Solo and the terms are reasonable. Three full days escort pay, daily battle wage if any incident with bonus if successful. Since this is the end of the week I see no problem with taking the assignment if you wish," The Headmaster informed him.

Patrick thought about it for a moment then nodded, "If there's no problem then I'll take the assignment."

The Headmaster nodded to him, "excellent. Its always good for a Solo to keep his name in the know. I'll contact Commander Cardoon and the contractor to inform them of acceptance and to expect you. I will admit though; as skilled as you are, I'm a bit reluctant to send you out alone. No offense but you are only one. I think."

The Headmaster stopped talking and looked past Patrick. Patrick turned to see Jessica Weyden frozen in place with an expression of utter horror on her face.

"Princess Weyden. Good to see you up and about. Countess Doucet mentioned going to look in on you. I was having breakfast with your mother. I'm sure you could still join her," The Headmaster said then gestured for her to go inside the dining hall.

Queen Lellaa Weyden stepped into view, "no need. I'm right here. Pardon me Headmaster but I believe you are in a quandary about something. I couldn't help overhearing. I was about to collect Jessica myself but paused for your business."

The Headmaster's eyes narrowed, "so considerate of you Queen Weyden. I'm sure you would like to interject some point or other?"

Lellaa walked fully into the corridor and smiled, "yes. I think it would be a good idea if Jessica accompanied Solo Fotens. Please hear me out before objecting. Jessica has EXTREMELY limited knowledge of Solos and various services they provide. Solo Fotens would in effect have her as an apprentice. Naturally of course HE will be in charge as this is his assignment. Jessica would be there to observe and learn how a Solo performs contracted services. Should there be any encounters she would serve as a reinforcement if he should require. Of course Solo Fotens would be paid for this service. Twice the rate being paid for his assignment as he would be teaching while doing."

"This is highly unusual," Patrick remarked.

"That's putting it mildly," the Headmaster commented.

"I understand and sympathize but I do believe that this experience would very much benefit. My daughter's view of Solos was corrupted by a family member and it is only of late that its been brought to our attention. Her father and I find this unacceptable as well as her behavior. In order to rectify this I believe drastic measures must be taken. Solo Fotens, being the consummate Solo, will be nothing other than professional. I can think of no one better suited," Lellaa explained.

Jessica wanted to scream at them for talking about her as if she weren't there. Was her mother really going to send her out with him? As an apprentice too?

Patrick seemed to be thinking, "If I take this additional assignment certain conditions would have to apply."

Lellaa nodded, "please continue."

Patrick nodded, "firstly: if at anytime I believe she is at jeopardy then I need authority to send her away to safety. My priority is the escort assignment. If I feel at anytime that her presence brings undue risk then she will have to withdraw. Second: as you said so yourself. This is MY assignment. She must follow my instruction implicitly and without protest. Anything else makes her a hindrance. Thirdly: this came through as a request for a Solo of the Eighty-Sixth. Royalty was not requested or invited. Her appearance could cause a problem. She'll need to hide her identity."

"You make your points well and of course, they all of a professional nature. All three of your conditions are agreed upon and I will triple the pay-rate instead of double to reflect your professionalism. Headmaster could a set of Academy armor be made available? Solo Fotens will her mount be an issue? Will she be able to still use it," Lellaa asked.

"Academy armor will work. She can use her own mount since it's of a basic appearance. Have her carry a plain combat sword as well. Other than basic travel gear that's it," Patrick replied.

The Headmaster nodded, "very well. Her absence will be approved, but I'm implementing a condition of my own. Upon completion of this assignment I will expect an objective report from the Princess detailing what she has learned from this experience. This report will also be delivered orally to her class."

"Then its settled. Jessica will be ready to join you in an hour Solo Fotens," Lellaa said.

Patrick shook his head, "two hours. At the main gate."

Lellaa nodded, "all the better. Two hours then."

Patrick turned and left.

Lellaa looked over at her terror-struck daughter, "well? There's no time to waste! We have to get you ready. Back to your dorm room."

The Headmaster shook his head as the Queen took her daughter away, "I'm beginning to think the girl would rather give the orders for her own execution than do this."

Daalumos turned around as Patrick stepped into the chamber, "you're still Glamoured? Is there a problem my Mistress?"

Patrick shook his head, "not a problem per se. An assignment has come up for my mortal facade. One I should undertake to maintain the facade."

The bound demon shook himself, "Have you not found it taxing to constantly perform these petty acts?"

Patrick arched an eyebrow.

"Wait. There is something else. OH there is definitely something else and you believe I'll find it amusing! What is it," Daalumos asked.

"The mortal princess. She is to accompany me during the course of this assignment. As my Apprentice. She will be in my charge," Patrick stated.

Daalumos stood stock-still for a moment then roared with laughter, "your APPRENTICE! I want to meet whomever came up this entertaining display of sadism! Will you require her to address you as SIR, My Mistress?"

Patrick looked straight at the Lust and replied, "its her mother's idea."

"This Mortal is quickly gaining my favor. She's delightfully cruel and inventive. Please do go ahead with this assignment nonsense. I shall follow along just to watch the entertainment as the foolish girl's perception crumbles about her," Daalumos chuckled.

Patrick chuckled as well, "That's what I thought you would say. Stay concealed and hold back your influence unless I say otherwise. I need all the mortals intact and unstressed for this."

The demon snorted, "very well. I will restrain myself and simply take on whatever they provide on their own. This Princess will probably be able to sustain me for a whole mortal year all on her own within the first hour of being under your guidance!"

Patrick began changing into the older set of armor and remarked, "you're probably right about that."

He took up his travelpack, shield and lance after buckling on the combat sword with the crest of the Eighty-Sixth FreeLancers Regiment. Daalumos stepped outside and vanished into concealment as Patrick secured his gear to the robotic horse and mounted up. The Lust found it challenging to contain his laughter as he followed at a distance back to the main gate of the Academy. A lone figure, wearing plain armor without any marking, waited astride a robotic horse at the side of the road.

Jessica sat on her horse debating if she had time to run and hide. She felt uncomfortable in the armor. Even though it fit perfectly it wasn't her own. In fact the only things that were her own were the boots, undergarments and horse. She was about to turn her horse about and claim he left without her when she felt her stomach plummet to the ground. Patrick Fotens had come into sight. Just like he had on the day he joined the Academy. His black and green armor stood in contrast to the sky behind him.

Patrick stopped directly in front of her, his helmet hung on the side of the saddle and lance leaning against his shoulder propped in a notch of the saddle. Jessica was much the same. Unless they knew her, anyone looking would assume she was nothing more than his apprentice. Her make-up was sparse and subdued. Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail tied with a plain bit of cord. Were she not wearing gloves the fact that her nail polish had also been removed would be evident. Even the earrings in her ears were simple silver studs.

"You have a complete basic travel pack," Patrick asked.

Jessica didn't trust her voice, so nodded her answer.

Patrick nodded his acknowledgement, "alright. If we don't have any problems and keep a reasonable, but quick pace, we'll be at Hamius by nightfall. We'll check in with the contractor and lodge the night. We'll move out at first light. Without any problems we'll arrive at the final destination sometime after noon the day after tomorrow. Nightfall at the latest. If you have questions, ask. If I give an order, obey. If I tell you to quit, you go home or back here because you are in danger beyond our ability. I will do that only as a last resort. I can not have you taken to be ransomed or worse. Do I need to give you any more highly specific instruction?"

Jessica shook her head.

"If I find I need to, I will. The escort is the priority; not you. For the duration of this assignment you are not to reveal to anyone your true identity. If you need to give a last name give Mulhanten. Jessica Mulhanten the only illegitimate child to Evgar Mulhanten and I have you in apprenticeship. Evgar was the second in command of the Eighty-Sixth. In truth he was childless. No one will contradict this because he died in battle a year ago. He left you an inheritance that allowed you to enter the Academy but you have to work under me to complete it. You're a Second year," Patrick instructed her.

Jessica nodded.

"You are my apprentice. Just call me Patrick around others. WHATEVER you do; DON'T correct anyone at how they address you. For the next three days you are NOT a princess. Revealing that can get you taken captive and your parents may not buy you back for being stupid. Are we clear," Patrick asked pointedly.

Again Jessica nodded.

"No good. Yes or no," Patrick stated.

"Yes," Jessica choked out.

Patrick turned Daemon around, "then let's move out."

Jessica spurred Mars to follow then urged him on when Patrick increased speed to a light gallop. In her mind she was picturing her lance sticking out of the Solo's back and stomping his head deeper and deeper into a roadside mud hole. Only Patrick could hear the roaring of laughter coming from the bound demon moving along nearby invisible to mortal eyes. They rode for four hours until reaching a village and slowed to a walk. Jessica wondered if they were going to just pass through when Patrick stopped and looked back.

He edged Daemon closer to Mars and asked, "did you only bring armor or do you have any clothes?"

"Just the armor. We didn't think any of my clothes would be appropriate. Is that a problem," Jessica asked.

Patrick nodded, "yes but we can fix it. There is an outfitter."

They turned their horses around and went back to a shop and dismounted. Jessica followed him inside. An older man nodded to them.

"Welcome. How can I service you," The old man asked.

Patrick gestured to Jessica, "She had a problem the other day and hired out for laundry. They made the problem worse and now she needs something to wear."

The man looked her up and down, "A Solo? I take it she needs your colors. Not a problem. Right this way, my daughter can fit her."

Jessica followed a girl who looked only a year or two younger to the back. Fifteen minutes later she came out wearing a green skirt and blouse covered by a black jacket with ruffled train and black pumps.

Patrick nodded, "that's good. Add a pair of riding pants and boots. We need to keep moving."

Jessica went back while he went over and paid the bill. When Jessica came back out she was back in armor and had her clothing in a travel bag. Instead of remounting they walked a ways down and stopped at a baker's. Patrick bought them two lunch pies and drinks. The two ate as they walked out of town. Just outside the border they mounted up and continued riding at a walk. After an hour they sped up to a hard gallop to make up for their stop. It was late afternoon when they slowed down to a walk for a break.

"May I ask you something," Jessica asked.

Patrick replied, "yes."

"Why the clothes," the princess asked.

"On the way back we'll have to stay in armor because we won't be lodging. Tonight though we will and we have to meet the contractor. It wouldn't be comfortable or wise to be in armor later on. So you'll wear clothes. You're not a Solo so you don't have a uniform. Those clothes look like what an apprentice would wear. Its part of the disguise," Patrick stated.

Jessica saw the reasoning, "Did you save the ticket? You'll need to be reimbursed. I didn't bring much money with me as Mother thought that as an apprentice I shouldn't have much. I can reimburse you when we get back to the Academy."

Patrick nodded, "I saved it. I'll be picking up all your expenses. That too, is part of the disguise. I'll send all your tickets to your mother afterward along with my statement. All my tickets go to the contractor starting when we depart. You work for me so I keep your tickets. When we reach the final destination and the job is done, I turn all mine in, along with my statement. He pays me. You 'work for me' so I 'pay you' off my end. The main thing is that you go with as little attention to you."

"Why is that," Jessica asked.

"To be honest; because of who, or rather what, you are. The more you exchange with them, the greater the risk of you betraying yourself. Since you were born; you've been taught to speak and handle yourself a certain way. Very formal. That wouldn't be that big of a problem if you didn't expect the same. You do and that's the biggest problem. You don't date so that works for and against you. It means that if you dance its formal. Few Solo men dance formal. The Solo women do but more do so informally. I doubt we'll actually have time for socializing. The fact that you don't date means that you don't have any casual skills around males. You barely talk to any in Academy, so the odds of you doing so socially outside the Academy are lower than Talfar's morals," Patrick said flatly.

Jessica gawked then began to laugh after a moment she said, "I shouldn't laugh at that because its true, which makes me sound pitiful; but that last part was funny. I thought nothing was lower than his morals!"

Patrick shrugged, "from what I hear; the slime under rocks in the sewer ditch run a close contest."

"Yes but his record on the field is hard to argue against," Jessica admitted.

"He's not that good. He studies his opponents in detail. Especially their injuries so he can exploit them. His first lance is always the most critical. He goes for any weakness he has found. After that he just keeps hammering at it. His biggest tactic is the dip. He makes you think he's going to suddenly drop his arm to bring up his tip, aiming for your helmet then slams straight at the base of your shield to lift and twist you off your horse," Patrick explained.

Jessica nodded, "I heard he clipped somebody's helmet once."

"That's true but there's a story to it. The story goes that as a Second year he ended up in a personal contest with a Fourth year Gentry. The Gentry broken two lances on him. Talfar went for a helmet strike and almost took his head completely off. The Gentry couldn't continue so Talfar won. That's how he got his reputation for going for 'accidental' helmet hits," Patrick told her.

Jessica snarled, "disgraceful!"

"He paid the Gentry to let him do it. The whole contest was for show," Patrick said bluntly.

"How do you know," Jessica asked even more shocked.

Patrick gave her a look that said she overlooked the obvious, "one of the stable mechanics saw it all. Six hundred coins to hit the helmet and win. A thousand if it really hurt him. He got his six hundred in advance. The Gentry got paid, Talfar got a reputation and everybody believes he'll do it to them if he thinks he can get away with it. His other trick is to use his own lances in personal contest. They're composite not wood, so he hits harder to knock you off."

Jessica sighed, "so how do you beat him?"

"Without mercy. How are you going to beat him," Patrick asked.

Jessica stared at him for a moment in confusion then wanted to smack herself. What worked for him wouldn't work for her.

"Hope I go after you and he's hurt maybe," Jessica said.

Patrick looked over at her, "now that's the most sense I've ever heard out of you. Good luck with that. He's not the one to watch out for though. Doucet is. Arento is the major contender. He looks like fluff but its only looks. He connects like a rock off a tower."

Patrick sped up to a gallop again, Jessica followed suit to keep abreast of him.

"Some have said similar of you. 'A boulder off a cliff' were the words if I remember right," Jessica commented.

Patrick remarked, "I don't think that's very accurate."

Jessica looked over, "you hit me really hard twice and dropped me once."

Patrick looked over and asked, "have you ever known anybody to be hit repeatedly by the same boulder off a cliff?"

"No. You have a point," Jessica laughed then asked, "will we make it there before sunset?"

"Maybe, but I doubt it. We'll probably get to the town not long after nightfall. Its a reasonable sized town so being out after dark won't be a problem. Is that going to be problematic," Patrick asked. "Being out at night?"

Jessica would shrug if they were going slower so just simply said, "there's been a lot of stories about that Nightmare Rider person lately. I have the impression that it wouldn't be such a good idea to encounter her."

"Well if you follow the rumors, which isn't hard; we more than likely would encounter the Nightmare Rider if we joined a battle. Personally I intend to avoid that if possible. We have enough going on as it is," Patrick replied.

"We do," Jessica asked.

Patrick nodded, "I have the escort assignment and teaching you the ways of Solos. You have the assignment of learning those ways and maintaining your disguise. That's plenty to have going on."

Jessica to her credit, caught on quick, "fair point. I'll do my best."

"Just think twice before opening your mouth and keep your hand off any weapons unless I go first and you should stay out of most trouble," Patrick stated.

Jessica glared, "think twice before opening my mouth?"

"You did get into a personal contest with me," Patrick reminded.

Jessica groaned, "I'll never hear the end of it."

Patrick pulled up to stop and faced her when she did the same.

"You did something dumb. Then you did something stupid. You at least met the price of that stupidity. You know you have flaws. Do something about them or do something about your sense of shame. Do one of those soon because you'll be facing me again at the end of next week," Patrick told her bluntly.

Jessica sighed, "you're going to win against Dante."

Patrick nodded, "He's not bad, but he needs more time to learn how not to be taken out of the saddle. Maybe next year he'll have a better record. Its about skill, strength and strategy. His is limited and he hasn't realized it yet. Let's go."

They went back to the hard gallop. Jessica rode silently thinking about what he pointed out.

Patrick gave something more to think on, "you have a family name. Credit or blight, that's all on you Weyden. What you say and what you do matters to others. It reflects on them. My name I took for myself. I have no family. I serve myself according to the code of Solos. I take what I earn and will keep what I have. There's no honor or obligation for me, only the terms of the contract."

They continued to ride on after that in silence. He had given her much to think about. Just as the sun's last light was fading they could see lights in the distance. The horses were slowed to a trot then walk when they had drawn close enough to see a town patrol manning the road. Patrick pulled up Daemon when they arrived at the men.

"Solo and apprentice of the Eighty-Sixth FreeLancers Regiment. Lodging for the night," Patrick stated.

One of the patrol nodded, "There's a Registry on the north side of the square if you're looking for notices."

"Thanks," Patrick replied then spurred Daemon to walk forward.

Jessica walked Mars along side him. They found the square without a problem and stopped at a small building. There was a board beside the door that had several notices. Patrick glanced over them. Jessica did as well.

'He already has an assignment, why is he looking over the notices,' Jessica wondered to herself.

Of course there were the offers of assignments. There were also advertisements for goods and services. Three taverns claimed to cater to Solos and had rooms for nightly and weekly rates. Stables with mechanics. Armorers and weapon-smiths. Down at the bottom was a handwritten scrap of notepaper. A tavern that offered rooms.

"Let's go," Patrick turning Daemon and heading away from the Registry.

The rode down the main street then turned right at the third street to stop seven buildings down. Jessica followed him to dismount then go inside. The small tavern was fairly quiet with only two men sitting at the bar and a woman sitting at a table alone by the window.

Patrick walked over to the man behind the bar, "any rooms for the night?"

"Yes Sir. I have horse stalls as well, out back. Ten coins per room and two coins per stall. The rooms do have bathrooms," the Keeper replied.

Patrick counted out coins and handed them over, "just the night."

The Keeper took the coins then handed Patrick key. Patrick turned and motioned for Jessica to go back outside. Outside they took their horses around to the back and found two stalls. The horses were stabled for the night then Patrick led Jessica back inside and up the stairs. Checking the number against the key marker he stopped and opened the door. Jessica followed him in and closed the door. When she turned around she found herself in shock again. There was only one bed.

"Uh," she stammered.

Patrick set down his pack, "the bed is yours. Go ahead and get cleaned up. I'll do the same while you get dressed."

Jessica glanced around then said meekly, "could you help me with my armor?"

Patrick looked at her blankly then reached over and unfastened the two main points of her torso section, "there you go."

Slowly and hesitantly Jessica removed her armor. Patrick had his completely off in a quarter of the time and arranged in the corner on a table. Jessica placed her's on a stand and tried to keep her back to him the entire time.

"Get a move on. We don't have all night," Patrick remarked.

Jessica rushed into the bathroom. It was several minutes later that she leaned out.

"Could you not look please," Jessica asked.

"Wrap the towel around you and come out. I need to get in there," Patrick said and started toward the bathroom.

Jessica came out turning away from him and blushing deeply. He ignored her and went inside. Minutes later he came back out with a towel around his waist. While he had been in the bathroom she had hurried to dry her hair and dress.

Patrick had slipped on the shorts, socks and pants.

"If you're wearing a bra, take it off," Patrick said in a low voice over his shoulder.

Jessica looked angrily at him, "WHY?"

"If they've been wearing armor all day and riding, Solo women don't wear them at night out of armor. Most don't wear anything at all under their uniform but you're young so some shyness is to be expected. Going without a bra at night is a matter of comfort and very common," Patrick stated.

As much as Jessica hated to admit it, he was right. The armor had rubbed against her all day. She had been looking forward to being without one while sleeping, before finding out they were sharing a room. Slowly she unbuttoned the blouse after pulling it from the waist of the skirt. Carefully she managed to get the piece of lingerie off without taking the blouse off completely then buttoned up and tucked the blouse into the skirt. She slipped on the pumps and picked up her jacket. Patrick was already buckling on a sword-belt. The pommel held the crest of the Eighty-Sixth.

Jessica almost squawked when he came over and unbuttoned the top four buttons of her blouse to reveal noteworthy cleavage then adjusted her jacket to be open except for the bottom button. He took her sword-belt and loosened it two notches then tilted it on her hips.

"Your face is fine as is. Take your hair loose though. Solo women do casual beauty unless dealing with royal or noble clients off the field," Patrick informed her. "Now pay close attention. I do all the talking with the contractor. Basically pretend you aren't there. If they offer anything, decline it. Even the bathroom. When you are met, you nod your head and then become part of the scenery. Watch, listen and LEARN. Let's go."

Jessica looked herself over without glancing at the mirror, "I look alright? I mean; do I look, you know, right?"

Patrick nodded, "you look believable and that's what matters. Solo women don't hide the fact."

"What fact," Jessica asked. "That they're Solos or women?"

"Both. We'll discuss it more later. Let's go," Patrick said then led her out.

Downstairs the tavern had picked up in business. There were quite a few people milling around. Patrick glanced but continued for the door.

"Don't forget the name of this place. You can recommend it to your buddy Arento," Patrick said when they were outside.

"Vaan? Why," Jessica asked.

Patrick led her down the street, "all those women were really men. Arento would have the time of his life in there. His favorite thing in the world are people that do things their own way. Most people think he's a few plates missing from dinner. He isn't. When Arento shows who and what he really is; his people will love him so much, they would crawl through fire for him. And for that he will make sure they NEVER will."

Jessica's jaw almost dragged in the street. All she thought she knew just went with the puff of street dust beneath her shoes.

"I really don't know anything do I," she said more to herself than him.

Patrick stopped at a house and knocked at the door, "you have no idea."

The door opened and a man greeted them, "Solo Fotens. Nice to meet you. Come right in."
 
 
 
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Chapter 6 of     The Nightmare Rider

 
 
 
The door opened and a man greeted them, "Solo Fotens. Nice to meet you. Come right in."

Patrick stepped inside, followed by Jessica. The man regarded her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know there were two Solos," The man remarked.

"There aren't. I'm the remaining member of the Eighty-Sixth. Jessica Mulhanten is my apprentice," Patrick stated.

The man nodded, "OH! Actually I'm rather pleased. My niece is coming on the trip. I feel even better knowing there is someone that would be able to look after her. At certain times."

It took Jessica a moment to understand the meaning, then she got it. There would be times when personal matters needed attending and she would not be comfortable with a male close by. With Jessica there, it would be fine. Jessica nodded to the man.

"Oh. My name is Gareth Orvin in case it wasn't in the request," Gareth introduced himself.

Patrick nodded, "It was. The terms are to escort your travel by wagon from here in Hamius, Bergitan to Weregaar, Sacania. One and a half to two days travel. The wages are for three days. If we're engaged then you'll be additionally charged a day's battle wage for that day. Any bonuses are at your determination. Single Solo wages."

Gareth was reviewing the contract on his tablet but shook his head, "those were the terms before I became aware of your apprentice. This is welcome by me and I want to adjust accordingly."

"Adjust," Patrick asked with his eyes narrowing.

Gareth nodded, "of course! I wouldn't dare propose anything less than above board. I'll increase the wages to accommodate your apprentice. All wages, plus half over. I'm a legitimate business, I'll have no dispute saying otherwise. Do you find the new terms acceptable?"

Gareth handed Patrick the tablet with the new contract. Patrick read it over then signed it.

"Accepted Mr. Orvin," Patrick stated and handed back the tablet and laid his ledger on the table.

The contract was sent to Patrick's ledger. Patrick checked it over and saw it was the same as he had seen.

"We have a contract Mr. Orvin," Patrick said. "Please be ready to begin at dawn."

Gareth shook hands with Patrick, "I'm already prepared. I have only to hitch my horse to the wagon and climb aboard."

Patrick stood up and took his ledger, "until morning then."

"Until morning," Gareth echoed with a smile and showed the two out.

After the door closed and they walked a fair distance away Jessica let out a sigh of relief.

"That went well," She said pleased that her disguise had not been closely inspected.

Patrick shrugged, "he's lying."

Jessica gawked, "What? How can he? He barely paid me any attention."

"Not about you. He believes you are who and what we say you are. He's lying about the purpose of the trip," Patrick stated.

Jessica looked back to where they had been then to Patrick, "how can you tell?"

"He paid more attention to you than he should. He made sure that your presence is noted. He did that for a reason. Someone else has a vested interest," Patrick said.

Jessica was still confused and stopped, "his place looked real enough."

Patrick waved her to keep walking, "it is. He is a legitimate business man. That's what makes the lie believable. In short he has been hired to hire us."

"So the goods on the wagon aren't for real," Jessica asked.

Patrick shrugged, "they probably are. Its the people that are the real job. The niece more than likely is someone important. This happens sometimes. A real person is contracted to hire Solos under a legitimate contract. Unless someone who knows everything betrays the contractors then no one will really know what is actually important. We're being hired to escort a merchant and his goods. In truth we're being hired to escort a person under the ruse of protecting a merchant with goods. At the end of the assignment we'll be given a bonus and they'll confess to the ruse."

"Should I worry about being recognized even more," Jessica asked.

Patrick thought about it, "maybe, maybe not. This girl is not a knight. Probably not a first-born. We could speculate all night and not come up with what's true. What matters is that we are aware of the subterfuge and can act accordingly. Unless you know this girl can recognize you on sight, stay close to her. We have to act as though we are unaware and when they reveal themselves we have to act accordingly. In short follow my lead."

Jessica nodded, "so I just keep doing what I have been. Eyes and ears open, mouth closed unless I don't understand what you do."

"Yes. But now when you have questions you have to be more discreet asking them. The girl may attach herself to you. She'll view you as her real protector so don't be surprised if you're asked to go everywhere with her," Patrick informed her as they arrived back at the tavern.

"Alright. Should I act nonchalant about it or should I act like I'm seeing it as my own assignment and its the first," Jessica asked.

Patrick stopped and regarded her then answered, "act like I told you to view it as your first assignment and you're trying to be nonchalant but every so often let it barely slip that you really are excited about it. This is the first time you're being taken seriously. Act like that."

"Oh. I can do that," Jessica said then followed him inside.

Inside the night was apparently in full-swing. There were men and women. There were also men that were presenting themselves as women and vice versa. The bartender noticed them and pointed to a table with a blue candle lit. Patrick and Jessica seated themselves and the bartender came over and took the candle away.

"What can I get for you," he asked.

"Two dinners," Patrick replied.

The bartender nodded and went to place their order. Jessica looked around at the patrons. The outfits or antics of some of them made her want to giggle. Prerecorded music started and three women stepped up onto a platform and began to pantomime singing lyrics with synchronized dance moves. It was pretty obvious as there were no microphones or other device to amplify their real voices. When the song ended the crowd applauded them as they stepped down to be replaced by a feminine looking man. A song was played and he did the same but to a male song. A waitress brought a tray over and set down their plates and drinks. Jessica noticed the waitress was a very feminine looking male.

"Thank you," Jessica smiled.

The waitress smiled back, "you're welcome! Please enjoy!"

Patrick nodded and began to eat without hesitation. Jessica tasted her own then began to eat as well.

Jessica used a napkin then commented, "it can never be said you don't take a girl to interesting places."

Patrick glanced up and saw she was trying not to laugh.

"The notice said they had rooms and a stable. Didn't mention a floor show. Seeing it all now, this is probably the best place in town for you to be," Patrick admitted.

Jessica had went back to eating and swallowed then asked in confusion, "it is? Why is that?"

Patrick nodded to the crowd, "see any soldiers or knights?"

"No," Jessica replied.

Patrick nodded, "If there are any they aren't thinking about fighting or anything other than having a good time. Any business discussion is of an intimate nature or in regards to appearance. In a place that caters to Solos, everyone is looking for something to get into. In a place like that, you're at a higher risk of discovery. In this place, featuring alternative entertainment, you have greater chance at anonymity. Nobody wants to fight here and all interactions are with known people. In short, neither one of us are anybody's type."

Jessica blinked then frowned, "wow THAT'S blunt."

"That's truth. Nobody will pay me to save my own ass. Bar fights and the like are a problem. Its for fools. They think it helps establish reputation. They're wrong, it hurts it. True Solos avoid that nonsense," Patrick stated.

Jessica studied him then sighed in comprehension, "because nothing is personal. Its all business, only the terms of the contract matter."

Patrick nodded, "correct. One day you may need a Solo for some reason. If you don't understand what they do, how they do it and especially why, you'll find yourself lost and spending more money than you intended or not getting what you need."

"What if I'm getting something I don't want but have no choice in the matter," Jessica muttered.

"Every contract has a forfeiture clause," Patrick replied.

The incognito princess was riveted now, "really?"

Patrick finished his meal, "of course. There are times when one party simply are not able to fulfill their end. That's when it gets nasty."

"So say I weren't there for our Liaison; the contract would go into that clause," Jessica asked slyly.

"The Liaison would become engagement," Patrick answered flatly.

Jessica's eyes widened in horror and she whispered, "NO!"

Patrick sipped his drink, "and your parents would pronounce me as successor. No more Weydens. Your mother was very careful to add that part and even smiled when I read it."

Jessica wanted to cry.

"Life lesson. If you make a deal that effects other people, make sure that if the terms can't be met then the penalty for that is worse than any outcome if they are met," Patrick informed her.

Jessica glared at him, "its NOT fair. I was wrong and I admit that. I did something very stupid. I admit that too. I'd be happy to atone for that. But the Liaison and the penalty clause is going too far!"

"Take that up with her, I have no problem meeting my terms," Patrick said as the waitress came back and started taking the empty plates away. He set some coins on the tray and was given a ticket. "could be worse."

Jessica groaned, "Yes? HOW?"

Patrick was filing the ticket away and shrugged, "I'm not Talfar."

Fiona Doucet sat with Lellaa Weyden in the overnight guest room.

"Queen Lellaa I'm a bit worried," Fiona remarked.

Lellaa sighed, "The Liaison contract?"

"The forfeiture clause. If you think the Princess was upset when you told her about the Liaison, the terms of the forfeiture clause could drive her over the edge. Solo Fotens won't lie about it either. If she asks; he'll tell her," Fiona stated.

Lellaa smiled, "of course. I'm practically COUNTING on him to!"

Fiona Doucet looked shocked, "Queen Weyden what exactly is your goal?"

"When they return Jessica's attitude must be changed. She must possess understanding and compassion. Also humility. If she has changed for the better when they return then I will buy out of the contract. If she has not then it still stands and she had better be victorious in Tournament. Or at least better than him, that's HER only way out," Lellaa said.

"I'm sorry to say, but that won't happen. Everyone has too much at stake. They ALL want to get to Tournament and win," Fiona shook her head.

Lellaa laughed, "including you Countess."

"Yes. Including me. Many have futures on the line. Once again; yes, including me. I will say this your Majesty. You are a very cruel teacher," Fiona said flatly.

Lellaa looked directly at Fiona and let go of her humor, "my daughter has an attitude problem. I believe it may be the fault of myself and her father. Harsh challenges must be met with harsh tactics. She is lucky. If she is repentant then she'll have her second chance. MY mother wouldn't have been so forgiving, which is why I was very careful NOT squander my first chance. I know for a fact YOUR parents would not be so forgiving either. They were quite illustrious here in their days. I remember them both, personally. In fact your mother unhorsed ME during my second year. I was very happy to see them both graduate. Even more glad that we've been on very friendly terms since. My husband graduated the following year and then I did."

"So you'll inflict cruelty to make up for your mistake," Fiona said acidly.

Lellaa looked back with a glint in her eyes, "Countess do not forget your own situation. It was you yourself that agreed to a conditional arrangement. If you do NOT win Tournament this year you'll be marrying the future Duke Talfar. I understand he has quite the reputation around here. Its not a complimentary one at that."

Fiona glared at the Queen, "you've no need to remind me of THAT. I honor my parents. I also will not be defeated. I'll win Tournament again. There's only ONE way Talfar can bring me down and its in violation of the agreement."

Lellaa arched an eyebrow at the statement.

Fiona smiled coldly, "he would have to go for a helmet strike. Unfortunately for him, that's not only disqualifies from Tournament, its a violation of the agreement. As would using non-regulation lances. He would forfeit the chance to marry me and his father would disown him. Oh yes Queen Weyden, I ensure proper coverage of my own backside."

"Well. It seems you have! Very clever. I'm impressed Countess. Too bad my daughter hasn't learned such common sense. She wouldn't have gained a visit from me if she had," Lellaa remarked.

Fiona let her expression soften, "perhaps your Majesty would like to indulge in a wager off the side?"

Lellaa chuckled, "Oh? Do tell Countess."

"Should the Princess return with a respect for Solos, you give her the choice of the buy-out or at least waiting until graduation for the Liaison. If I were not in this Tournament then I would protest the victory clause. None should have to dropout for such a reason," Fiona said.

Lellaa regarded her intently, "very well then. Should Jessica return with a new found respect for Solos then I will tell her she has a choice. Of course she'll have to buy-out the contract herself. She has enough to do so. Currently. However should she not have that new perspective then YOU will purchase her nightwear for her Liaison time."

Fiona nodded, "deal. I'll probably buy a few bottles of wine for those nights too. I imagine that may be the only way she'd become compliant."

"I know I had the better part of a bottle on my wedding night. I wasn't too far gone, but at least it didn't hurt so bad until the morning," Lellaa laughed. "I woke before he did and went to cry in the bath. I found out from the maid that it had been quite the night for the two of us. I guess he truly had been saving himself! I remember starting, finishing and some of the in-between."

Fiona shrugged, "but you loved him then and still do now. You would have been compliant without the wine."

Lellaa shook her head, "no Countess you misunderstand. I drank because I was compliant. Not to ensure it. The maid confessed that I never implied any discomfort during my deflowering. Only in the morning did I have discomfort. I never regretted either of those decisions. My husband did awaken while I was in the bath and came in. When he saw me he apologized so profusely I began to worry if we would ever share a bed again!"

Fiona looked shocked, "He felt that guilty?"

"He most certainly did! For the following week I had to initiate all our lovemaking," Lellaa confessed then leaned forward and smiled. "I was so glad when I finally did become pregnant. We had run out of new ways to try! The castle staff verified there wasn't a room we hadn't used at least once."

Fiona laughed at the comment and shook her head, "I'm sure they all wondered why either of you bothered to have any clothes."

"What makes you think they stopped," Lellaa laughed.

Jessica woke up from the knock at the door. She looked and saw Patrick stand up.

"We're awake. Be down in half an hour," Patrick told whomever had knocked.

Jessica stretched and got out of the bed. Patrick went into the bathroom and came back out a few moments later and began to change. She went in to get herself ready. The princess had been leery when they adjourned to the room after their meal. It took only a few minutes to study a map and plot their route. She then went into the bathroom and came out in her nightgown. He didn't even look at her. She slipped into the bed watching him. Her eyes went wide to see him take up his sword then jam it into the floor. Patrick sat down and leaned back against it and closed his eyes.

"You don't tie a string from yourself to the door or something," Jessica asked.

Patrick sighed, "the door opens in. Go to sleep."

With that she had laid down and managed to get to sleep somehow. That was then, this was now and now it was time to get busy.

"Leave the make-up off," Patrick said starting to put on his armor. "We'll be riding with our helmets on so the make-up will just melt off anyway. During the day we'll take about breaks and you can take the helmet off completely. Helmet on, visor up unless something happens. If something does happen; snap it down and either fight or run, which ever I tell you to do."

They finished preparing then went downstairs. The tired looking bartender was setting down two plates on the bar. Patrick and Jessica set their packs on a table and took seats at the bar.

Jessica looked over the plate. Even though it wasn't Academy or her family's castle, the food did look and smell good. Eggs and thick steak with a pile of shredded potato, fried to a gently crisp gold. There were also thick slices of toast and the choice of a creamy butter or fruit spread. Jessica went with the fruit spread and closed her eyes in pleasure.

"This is GOOD," she smiled.

The bartender smiled back as he set down a glass of juice for her, "Thank you Miss. I don't have many overnights like you. Mostly just the friends of my, uh, daughter. Some stay overnight, but its not the same."

"You got a nice place. We'll spread discreet word. I'm on good terms with the Seventy-Fifth FreeLancers and they'd appreciate a place they can relax. Some are more open-minded than others in the Regiment and would like to know," Patrick remarked.

"Can your daughter style hair good," Jessica asked.

The bartender shrugged, "I think so. I don't really know about those things."

Jessica chuckled, "well the main thing is getting clean hair after traveling. After we ride a long time with helmets on, one thing women want, besides a long bath, is to have our hair cleaned really good. If she can do that it'll give you a good reputation with the women Solos. Being fancy isn't so important a lot, but being clean feels great."

"That's something to keep in mind. Thank you Miss. This is for you," the bartender said and handed her a jar of the fruit spread. It was the same as she was having but an unopened jar. "I make it myself. In trade for your suggestions."

They finished eating and Patrick passed over some coins.

"Food's good as is. Don't change anything on that," Patrick said taking his ticket and adding it to his ledger.

The bartender nodded, "Thank you Sir. Have a good journey. You can go through that door to get to the stable."

"Goodbye," Jessica said as they picked up their things and went out.

In the stable they readied their horses then led them out and mounted. Patrick led them over to the Orvin's place and met them on the street. A young woman about Jessica's age was climbing up to the wagon's seat.

"Ready Mr. Orvin," Patrick asked.

Gareth nodded then introduced everyone, "Zelle this is Solo Patrick Fotens of the Eighty-Sixth FreeLancers and his apprentice Jessica Mulhanten. They are our escorts. Solo Fotens, Apprentice Mulhanten; this is my neice Zelle Turrien. She's never met Solos before so she's a bit shy."

Patrick nodded, "We're not much for conversation Miss Turrien but we'll get where we're going. If you're ready Mr. Orvin let's move out. I'd like to be clear of the town border by sun up."

"By your leave Solo Fotens," Gareth said.

Patrick and Jessica put on their helmets then spurred their horses. At the end of the street Patrick turned them for the south road. They had a few horse lengths lead.

Jessica said in a low voice, "you were right. It is the girl."

"I'm not surprised. Does she know you," Patrick asked.

Jessica resisted the urge to shake her head, "no. She's never seen me, but I've seen her. She's the fourth daughter of the Marquis Feldarin. That's all I know. The oldest daughter graduated from the Academy with a decent ranking five years ago. Her I do know. The brother wasn't suited for battle, he's really good with money. He went to the college of Finance and adviser to their King now. Daughter Two went to the School of Relations and is a diplomat. Daughter Three entered a sisterhood and belongs to a temple."

"That's a list. So the best guess is our charge is of Leisure and possibly being married off," Patrick mused.

Jessica thought about it, "that's the strong possibility. She's definitely pretty, even trying to hide it. She wouldn't recognize me. Whomever she is going to might though."

Patrick sighed, "alright. If we make it to the end without you being recognized then don't reveal. At the end if somebody important collects her that will, you can reveal yourself after they reveal her. If Orvin is the only one that reveals then don't."

"Won't me revealing who I am be bad for you," Jessica asked.

Patrick chuckled, "no. You're being educated. It will actually help me, plus put yourself in a better light. Think about it. A Solo in charge of the education of you makes me look good to be that reputable. That you didn't back out after learning her identity makes you look good in that you stayed with her. This actually helps you with your reputation. You need it."

Jessica thought about that, "ok. Honestly, I do need it. So I stay with the 'first assignment' attitude?"

Patrick looked back, "turn your horse and check behind us. That's good. No. Don't act like this is your first. Act like you do this all the time. The girl is the girl and you guard her. Little conversation but be obvious you are keeping her under your watch. Her station means nothing to you. You are a professional. Go with that. Aloof and detached, but mindful."

Patrick spoke louder then, "I'll take the first round."

Patrick turned and rode back to the wagon and walked around it then told Gareth, "we're going to speed up to make some time."

Gareth nodded, "that's just fine Solo Fotens. Thank you."

The robotic Draft-style horse sped up to a fast trot. The wagon had a cushioning system so the road conditions didn't unsettle them. Daemon galloped to rejoin Mars and they trotted alongside each other. Three hours and several rounds later Patrick nodded to Jessica to go check on their charge.

Jessica rounded them again but returned to the girl's side, "Miss we're making good time. Do you or your Uncle need to stop for anything?"

The girl looked at her in surprise. She had expected to be addressed directly at all.

Gareth chuckled, "Go on. Apprentice Mulhanten is thinking of your comfort."

Zelle smiled shyly, "Thank you for asking Apprentice Mulhanten. I think I'm alright for now."

Jessica made Mars prance sideways, "I'll check back in a while."

Jessica turned Mars and rode back up to join Patrick, "They want to continue for now."

"Right. We'll go another hour," Patrick said.

Another later they did stop. Jessica led Zelle out of line of sight for some privacy. She would have giggled at the girl's awkwardness of having to relieve herself in such manner but remembered the first time she had done so as well. When Zelle had finished Jessica quickly did the same then led her back after washing their hands in a small stream.

"I'm not used to that Apprentice Mulhanten. I apologize for not being comfortable out of doors," Zelle confided.

Jessica shook her head, "no need. It's not for everyone Miss. You're doing well so far."

Zelle gave her a shy smile, "I'm grateful you're here Apprentice Mulhanten. I'd be very uncomfortable otherwise."

"Try your best to relax and enjoy the scenery Miss. The countryside is pleasant as is the weather. You shouldn't let something so small as a few moments of guarded awkwardness affect a good travel," Jessica advised.

Zelle tried to rally herself, "thank you Apprentice Mulhanten. I'll take your advice to heart."

They rejoined the wagon and horses. Orvin had set down a blanket and basket. Zelle sat down on the blanket with Gareth and accepted a pie in a stay-fresh wrapper and a bottled drink. Patrick handed Jessica a ration bar. She drank from her saddle canteen.

"Walk around as much as you can and eat a piece of fruit. It'll keep you from cramping and let you dry some," Patrick instructed.

Jessica did as she was told. After a few minutes she noticed that she was standing alone on one side of the small picnic and he was on the other. He tapped his helmet then took it off. She did the same. She watched Patrick as she periodically looked around. For a moment she wondered why he thought they had all the time in the world then scolded herself. They weren't traveling on their time, they were traveling on the Merchant's time. Or rather, the girl's time. Now that she thought about it, this was probably the first time she had traveled further than a few hours. Patrick was taking them on a less populated route, claiming that any potential problems would lay going between towns which always had scouts for raiding groups. The way they were going was more like a livestock path than a road.

Jessica wanted to smack her own head. Patrick chose this route for security and the resources. Raiders patrolled more traveled and developed routes to strike. The only people they would encounter along this way were farmers and ranchers moving herds. Because real animals were moved along this way, meadows and water sources were more plentiful for when they needed to stop. Also it was quieter so they would hear the approach of anyone and straighter to increase visibility. The terrain was rougher and made them go slower but because of the girl they needed to do that anyway. Plus nobody they should encounter this way would recognize either herself or the girl.

They had rested for over half an hour when Gareth stood up then helped Zelle to her feet and gathered the blanket and basket.

"I believe we're ready to continue on," Gareth said happily.

Patrick put his helmet back on and went to re-mount. Jessica did the same. The wagon eased back onto the path and the draft horse sped up to follow the two riders ahead. Jessica informed Patrick of her thoughts.

"Correct. Now you're really learning. If anybody does discover us; first they'll think we're locals. If they do think otherwise, they'll think the goods are why. The path would be too rough for high-borne people to travel. That's what others will think and we want to encourage that. Most assume that even a princess in armor is still pampered and not really willing to go off into the wilds. You want to encourage that thinking. It will serve you WELL," Patrick informed her.

Jessica wanted to take immediate offense but realized that again, he was right. If any adversary thought she was indeed pampered, they would never suspect she would be going around them. Therefore avoiding needless engagement. Now she was starting to understand. Solos made choices. Choices after much thought. By avoiding having to defend themselves on a constant basis for personal reasons they avoided pursuit. They fought for profit and after the battle is over they collect their pay and leave. They don't take any spoils or prisoners, which would make things personal. They only take the money they are promised by the side contracting them. Bar fights and other altercations were purely personal unless in the employ of the business it happens at. She now also understood why Solos stayed on the move. It ensured there was no attachment to places and people.

"Nothing truly is personal," Jessica said to herself.

She had been talking to herself but Patrick had heard, "sounds like you just had an epiphany."

Jessica answered, "yes. Solos have no homes. No kingdoms. No friends. No allies. They never stop moving to make sure of that. Solos aren't defenders. They have nothing to defend. If they did, they wouldn't be able to be Solos. Since they have nowhere to call home they care nothing for how a place is run, no politics. I understand why you aren't in the Seventy-fifth. You would have that attachment. By remaining the Eighty-Sixth you are to yourself only. All that matters is the contract. That is what it means to be a Solo."

"Quite the epiphany. Think of that as your starting point. Go from there," Patrick told her.

In silence they rode on, periodically taking turns circling around the wagon. Jessica noticed that Zelle would smile to her when it was her turn to check on them, but in general her expression was remaining pleasant as she took in the sights around her. The day wore on and Patrick began checking the position of the sun. Not long after Jessica noticed he also began really looking at the surrounding area. When Patrick slowed his horse, Jessica did too. The wagon came up between them.

"I'm looking for a good place to stop for the night," Patrick told Orvin.

Gareth nodded, "If you see one that would be nice. The day is almost gone."

"I'll ride ahead just a way. She'll stay with you. I won't be long," Patrick said then nodded to Jessica.

Jessica nodded back and kept Mars alongside the wagon. Patrick rode ahead at a hard gallop. Once he knew he was out of earshot, called out.

"Daalumos," Patrick said.

The bound demon answered, "yes my Mistress?"

"I feel no mortals other than our own. What of you," he asked.

Daalumos replied, "none for miles and not for over an hour. I believe we are alone."

Patrick had gained another treeline separating meadows and saw a clearing of a good size within. He pulled Daemon to a stop and checked it.

"I feel there is water close," Patrick stated then asked, "do you feel any consecration?"

"No my Mistress. I believe this place with serve the mortals' needs," Daalumos answered.

Patrick nodded then wandered around. There was a creek with several large rocks along side and in it. Patrick returned to the path but turned to Daalumos.

"Keep a safe distance. I will need you to warn me of any mortals approaching during the night," Patrick informed him.

The Lust tossed his head, "as you wish my Mistress. Your pet princess has been ranging from anger to confusion all day. One moment she wants to bash in your head and the next she is wanting to ask you endless questions. She is quite amusing."

Patrick sighed, "at least you're entertained. I'll bring the mortals here and make camp for the night. On your way."

Daalumos chuckled then faded from view again. Patrick turned Daemon and rode back.

"I found a place just up ahead," Patrick informed them.

A few minutes later the wagon slowly eased into the clearing. Orvin turned the wagon according to Patrick's instructions. Patrick then stood Daemon off to one side. Jessica thought she should do the same on the opposite side and did so. They both removed their helmets and hung them on the side of their saddles.

"Wander around and pick up sticks from the ground. None too big," Patrick said quietly to Jessica.

Moving in opposite directions the scoured the ground for dead-fall and came back with an armload each. Another trip around the clearing added to their pile. Jessica helped him lay smaller pieces along with some forest litter. He retrieved a metallic looking bar and a small knife. It took four tries to make sparks hot enough to ignite the roughed leaves. It didn't take long for Patrick to coax the single small flame into a crackling fire. Though the day had been warm, Patrick knew the coming night would be quite cool.

Patrick spoke to Jessica in a low voice, "over that way about forty paces is a creek. You need to cool down and dry before nightfall. She would probably like to wash up some as well."

Jessica nodded then went to Mars and took her pack.

"Miss. Why don't we take a short walk," Jessica suggested then leaned in close, "bring along a change."

Zelle looked at her in puzzlement but did as was asked. She followed the imposing but kind young woman. A few moments later they rounded some brush and came up short. The two young women stared in surprise.

"This is PRETTY," Zelle gushed.

Jessica nodded, "very much so. Let's not waste a moment of it!"

Zelle giggled. Jessica pushed her sword into the ground close by then began unfastening her armor. She had watched Patrick covertly the night before and saw how he did it so she would know how. She arranged the pieces so they would have air circulate into them.

When Jessica was down to the soft undergarments she stepped onto a rock at the water's edge and sat down. It rose only a couple of inches out of the water with one taller behind it. She stripped off the bottoms and tank then eased into the water.

"OOH!" She exclaimed then giggled. "The water's cool but not cold. It feels great!"

Zelle finished undressing but shyly held her hands in front of her and joined Jessica in the water.

Jessica shook her head, "no need to feel embarrassed. Its just us. Here, sit up here."

Zelle shyly moved onto a rock and watched as Jessica took a washcloth and a small bottle of wash. She almost felt like a little girl again with the way Jessica lathered then rinsed her. Using handfuls of water Jessica wet down her hair then used her own shampoo and conditioner. Zelle eased back down into the water and watched as Jessica bathed herself.

When Jessica finished rinsing herself clean Zelle spoke up.

"I wish I could be as brave as you are," Zelle said quietly.

Jessica sighed, "there are all kinds of bravery Miss. Not all require one to don armor and mount a horse. Think of the Farmer. Every morning the Farmer awakens, before the sun has, and goes out to tend animals or prepare for the fields. The day may be hot, cold, raining or even snowing yet everyday the Farmer works his fields and herds. Too much rain drowns and washes the crops away, not enough rain and they wilt and burn. Its a harsh life and many times it will seem like he fights a battle that he can never win nor will it ever end. To face that every day is brave."

Zelle looked at her in awe.

Jessica continued, "Mothers are much the same. Every day they tend to their children. Keep them clean, keep them fed, keep them healthy. There is so much a mother must do, sometimes there are not enough hours in the day and night. I put on my armor and mount my horse. When the battle is done I collect my pay and leave. This is the way of the Solo. I have no home, no country, no ruler. I have only the terms of the contract. I hate no one, I love no one. Someone wiser than I once said, 'If you want truth seek a philosopher. If you want fact, seek a teacher. If you want warriors that will never betray you, pay the Solos.' We all have a place in this world. No one person can change that. They can change themselves and how they view the world. Use this an opportunity Miss. See the world, as it IS, not as someone would like you to believe. People can hide the world from you. Show you a false front. You must learn to see beyond that. Ask not the person at the front of the crowd in the Square, ask the bartender two streets away."

"I never thought about it like that," Zelle admitted.

Jessica sighed, "this isn't a new concept Miss. If you want a good horse don't ask the salesman. Ask a stable-mechanic. They'll tell you which ones need repairs the least and that's the one you want."

"Wow. That's really boiling it down! It sounds right though now that I think about it." Zelle admitted.

"Simple can work Miss. Its what Solos do," Jessica said. "Let's head back to camp."

They dried and dressed quickly. It took Jessica a few more minutes to get her armor on but it had cooled and was dry inside now. Patrick took his turn at the creek as did Gareth Orvin. Patrick and Jessica ate meals from pouches. He showed her the trick of boiling water in a cup then dropping the pouch in it for five minutes to heat it. Ovrin heated up some food similar to that using a saucepan. After eating and cleaning up Zelle went over to the shelter by the wagon and laid down. She noticed Patrick and Jessica talk then Jessica jammed her sword into the ground and lean back against it. Patrick walked to the edge of the firelight and wander around. She looked over and saw that Jessica had fallen asleep. To see her sleep like that seemed very strange to her. Zelle assumed it was something unique to Solos and closed her own eyes. Sleep set upon her almost instantly.
 
 
 
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Chapter 7 of     The Nightmare Rider

Patrick wandered the camp. Everyone had drifted off to sleep. He stopped and braced a hand against a tree. He could feel prayers being made. The prayers were more powerful than before. The influx of power subsided to less than a trickle. As if now a slow drip. Patrick smiled to himself. It seemed the Malzeek family were turning out to be quite devoted. This was good.

"My Mistress," Daalumos called softly and revealed himself further down the path.

Patrick walked over, "what is it?"

The Lust informed, "Mortals. A group of them are approaching. They are fit for battle."

"This is not good. How many," Patrick asked.

"I counted ten. All are mounted and well armed. There is something strange about them. I felt a bit of Divinity," Daalumos said.

Patrick looked down the trail and explored it mentally. Sure enough. There was a trace of Divinity approaching slowly.

"Divinity is there but very weak. The grandchild of a Demi-God or some such. They must be weak or not very skilled to be traveling with a contingent. Especially along this route and at night," Patrick surmised.

Daalumos snorted, "we have only a few minutes before they gain sight of the fire. What do you command."

"Stay far back and suppress your influence. I will have to deal with this as a Mortal would. Go," Patrick instructed.

The BloodLust disappeared. Patrick went over and woke Jessica.

"Wake up. We have a problem," Patrick said quietly.

Jessica woke up, resisting the urge to stretch but grabbed her battle sword.

The shifting around had alerted Orvin, as he slept lightly.

"Is something wrong," Gareth asked in a low voice.

Patrick nodded, "riders. Small group. I can already see their outlines in the distance. They're a small group, traveling at night down this route. We have only a few more minutes. Orvin go back as you were. Pretend to sleep. I'm going to try the 'we're not here and neither are you' attitude. If not then Mulhanten and I will fight and you two escape behind us. We'll find you later, just stay together. Let's go."

Orvin went back to the wagon and grabbed a small bag then laid down. Jessica, under Patrick's instruction moved Mars further into the campsite. Daemon was moved as well. The two robotic horses were now blocking some of the light from the campfire. More importantly they were a visual reference as a point not to be crossed. Jessica took the position Patrick indicated and stood casually, sword in hand. Patrick took position back from the trail the same way. He would be the first contact, if any.

Soon they heard the soft sounds of several horses walking quietly toward them along with a dragging sound. The group slowed more as two lead riders approached. They stopped their mounts at the opening onto the trail and drew their swords. Patrick could see they were looking over the camp.

In a low voice Patrick addressed them, "we're not here. Neither are you. My contract ends at the trail."

Anyone that had ever dealt with Solos would understand the implied meaning. If they did not engage, Patrick would not. The two knights nodded to each other then one waved to the group to continue on. Quietly the group of eight walked past. Three riders rode at the back side by side and dragging some branches, scrubbing their prints from the trail. The one in the center was a girl dressed in male armor. Patrick could tell by the shifting in the saddle as she rode. Patrick nodded for the two to move on. When the sounds of the horses faded from their hearing Jessica relaxed. Patrick turned away finally and Jessica sighed in relief.

Orvin got up and joined them.

"They just passed us by," he asked.

Patrick nodded, "They have the same interest we do. Passing unnoticed. Our focus is you and your wagon. Their focus was the rider in the middle. They won't be back. You can return to sleep Orvin."

Gareth nodded, "well that battle was won by my account Solo Fotens. I'll add a day's battle wages."

Patrick and Jessica watched him go back over to the wagon and lay down. Apparently everything had been quiet enough not to wake Zelle. Quickly they re-positioned their horses.

Jessica walked over to Patrick and asked quietly, "The rider in the middle was their charge? Looked like a girl in boys' armor to me. I could see by the way she was riding. She wasn't comfortable. The armor wasn't the right size."

"You're learning again. You're correct. So a girl disguised as a boy in armor that didn't fit traveling in secret. What could it mean," Patrick asked.

"Possible fiance. Possible ransom return. Possible Emissary," Jessica listed immediately then said quickly. "Or possibly escape. An exile."

Patrick nodded, "those are all very likely possibilities. You only forgot one."

Jessica thought but drew a blank and shook her head.

"Possible temple maiden. Training to become a priestess. One selected to undertake that would travel in such a fashion," Patrick informed her.

Jessica smacked her head, "that was dumb. I should have thought of that."

Patrick shook his head, "You've never known that situation. Actually I've ridden escort for one. She was joining the sisterhood of Diana."

"So by saying that the contract ended at the trail that was the signal that they were not a concern unless they made themselves one. You knew from what they were doing and how they looked that they did not want to engage unless they had to. We do not want to engage unless we have to. Solos use implication and innuendo to convey their message. You said we weren't here and neither were they.We would ignore them if they ignored us. Right," Jessica asked.

Patrick nodded, "correct."

"Ok so conflict was avoided. Wait. UNNECESSARY conflict was avoided. The job was done without endangering the client and that's what matters. The terms of the contract were upheld," Jessica said.

"Again; correct. Anyone else would have provoked them into a fight. So yes, by using the implication that we are Solos under a specific contract, they ignored us. The only reason the two riders stayed was to ensure we did as we said we would. Better to have the certain pay of escort than risk everything for a battle pay and bonus. Because Orvin was awake the whole time and knew what was happening he is adding the battle pay anyway. The girl slept through the whole thing. She is none the wiser and it is best that way," Patrick explained.

Jessica nodded, "yes. You're right. Nothing would be gained by frightening her. Better that she not know."

Patrick nodded, "exactly. Get some more sleep. I'll wake you up in a while to take watch for me."

Jessica nodded and went back her previous spot, jammed the sword down and settled back against it. She had no idea that she fell asleep almost instantly. Patrick could feel Daalumos' presence as he moved off to circle around in a patrol. Patrick leaned back against Daemon and dozed for about two hours. It wasn't real sleep but would serve well enough. He eased back into wakefulness and went over to Jessica and nudged her. Jessica startled then looked up and nodded. She stood and took her sword.

"It should be dawn in about two or three hours. Wake me when you first see it," Patrick said.

Jessica nodded to him, "right."

She watched him jam his own sword into the ground and settle back against it. Jessica added some wood to the fire and wandered around. She occasionally sipped from her canteen. For the most part she paced back and forth to watch the trail.

Jessica reached into her saddlebag and took out her tablet and began to write.

"I need to do this while its all still fresh," Jessica said occasionally glancing up to look down the trail.

For almost three hours she made her notes until she noticed the sky staining with a gold tinge. Jessica finished her note and put the tablet away then woke Patrick. She was stunned at how quickly he was on the move. Quickly he checked over the camp then explained that he was checking for traces of their presence and disposed of it. Orvin was awakened followed by Zelle. Breakfast was prepared and eaten. Patrick handed Jessica a meal bar. Half an hour later Patrick was covering the campfire with the dirt he had dug out for the small pit. Jessica directed the wagon onto the trail after Zelle and Orvin climbed on then moved opposite Patrick to ensure all traces where gone. They even used leafy branches to wipe away the tracks.

"Why did they do that," Zelle asked.

Orvin smiled, "why don't you ask?"

Zelle called over, "excuse me. Why did you do all of that? Is it that important to look like we weren't there?"

Patrick walked over and nodded, "it is Miss. By maintaining the appearance that the trail is used only by the local farmers we can use it again. If we left obvious traces then word would get around about it being used. If word does get around, bandits will start working it and we'd be no safer than using the main roads. Your uncle and his goods would be at risk."

"Oh. I see the sense of it now. Thank you for explaining and I hope you weren't offended by my questioning," Zelle offered.

Patrick shook his head, "no offense taken Miss. You've never been exposed to Solos before. My apprentice is still learning as well. Solos prefer to be traced and tracked by one method. Our records. Holding to the terms of the contracts. Good Solos are only known for the jobs they've done. Bad Solos are known for everything they do."

Jessica interjected, "altercations that are not contracted, disturbing locals, signs of obvious passage. All of those things are bad. It gets attention that has nothing to do with contract terms. The goal of a Solo is to only be known when a job comes up. Otherwise to go unnoticed. Should a Solo be noticed then the reputation of adhering to the terms should apply. A job done is that your journey is completed. A job well done is your journey completed safely with measure of reasonable comfort for your uncle and yourself, Miss. Anything else would be unprofessional."

"So only the terms of a contract are important. How you feel about something doesn't make a difference," Zelle asked.

Patrick and Jessica were mounting their horse. Patrick gave her a subtle nod to answer.

Jessica answered, "correct Miss. The moment it becomes personal that's when a Solo is no longer a Solo. That's why we have no homes or countries. No politics. Only the terms of the contract. That may seem cold Miss, but its the Solos' way. Nothing is ever personal."

"We should get moving. We can make it by nightfall," Patrick stated.

Orvin nodded and urged the horse forward. Patrick and Jessica took the lead.

They were ahead enough for Jessica to speak comfortably and ask, "Solos fight battles and serve as escorts. What else do Solos do?"

Patrick looked over then nodded, "even more than that. Some regiments and battalions specialize. One example is the Sixth Battalion of Freebooters. They specialize in rescue. Say you were kidnapped during transit by bandits, the Sixth Freebooters could be contracted to bring you home from their stronghold. The Fifth Regiment of FreeLancers could rescue you if still in transit. The Tenth Regiment and Battalion work together. They can provide temporary law services if there is no Marshal for a city or village."

"Really? That's something I would never know isn't it," Jessica asked.

"The Fourth Regiment and Battalion work together too. Mainly they are investigators," Patrick informed her.

Jessica thought about it, "They investigate battle sites?"

Patrick shook his head, "they'll investigate anything. Battles, crimes, troop movements; you name it. When you want to know what is or had happened, they're the go-to Solos."

"So the lower the number," Jessica speculated.

Patrick shook his head again, "not necessarily. One through Ten yes. But its not so easy to join them. You have to have a very good record. Eleven through Twenty-Two work entertainers until they hire their own personal protection. Again, you have to have a solid record. People think the lower number the more illustrious or better the unit is. That's not true. The HIGHER the number the more strict they are. Higher numbers haven't been around as long to attract the less disciplined. In short, if you want true hardcore Solos; go for the higher numbered units. They are made up of the ones that are fed up with low standard inductees."

Jessica understood, "so higher number units are more sought after because of their reputation."

"That's right. I don't have to look for work. Jobs come to me, because I'm the last. I'm the reason the Eighty-Sixth still is listed," Patrick stated.

Jessica nodded, "I get it now."

Patrick glanced over, "the only problem is making sure you stay off the roster. Otherwise life will get complicated. Female Solos get a lot of attention. Good female Solos are watched. Good female Solos that are attractive, well I think you get the idea now."

Jessica blinked then full comprehension hit her. Liaisons. Patrick was highly skilled, even though still in the Academy and he was definitely attractive. Those qualities would make him sought after. If word got out about her, there would be a demand. Her Academy record was good for a student of her year. The Tournament results would affect that as well. If she were a Solo then all of that together would definitely garner attention she didn't want.

"I want to ride ahead for a few minutes," Jessica said then did when Patrick nodded.

Jessica looked around then took out her tablet and made notes of the newest things she learned then put it away and checked around again. She waited for them to catch up then made a round of the wagon. At midday they stopped for lunch. Jessica made sure Zelle had time and privacy to attend her own matters. They were only stopped for half an hour then back on the trail again. Unfortunately the trail joined back up to a road. Soon after that Daalumos spoke to Patrick only.

"My Mistress. Mortals are ahead in concealment lying in wait," The demon informed him.

Patrick responded so that only the demon could hear, "how many?"

Daalumos laughed, "only six Mistress and they looked rather ragged."

Patrick looked over to Jessica, "remember; we are on a road now. Not a trail. Be wary. There's no trail we can divert onto to reach our destination. Anything can happen now."

Jessica nodded and tightened her grasp on her lance. She also saw him reach back and take up his shield so did the same.

"Up ahead. I saw something in the brush. Act casual. Hang back and you can have any that get past me," Patrick said in a low voice. "Daemon. Battle."

Jessica said in a low voice, "Mars. Battle."

Both horses were now set into battle mode. They would be controlled using feet and knees instead of the reins. Patrick urged his mount forward to give space between them. Only Daalumos could hear him now.

"I feel fear from them. Daalumos, if any of them get past me feed her enough to keep them off her. Only feed her," Patrick instructed.

The Lust chuckled, "oh this should be amusing!"

Patrick gained the brush-line and slowed Daemon. He could feel anger and fear coming from both sides. Patrick knew he had to be careful and only take in the fear without stoking it. If the fear circulated then the facade of Patrick Fotens could be compromised and have to be discarded for the true form of Phoebe. Suddenly six men burst from the undergrowth. Patrick thrust his lance forward. Three charged him and the other three ran towards Jessica. The man on the right's spear wasn't as long as the lance and shrieked in pain as the lance tip melted into his chest. Patrick let go of the lance and pulled his combat sword. Each man held a sword in his left hand and spear in the right. Two attacked him and three ran at Jessica.

Jessica heard a whisper in her ear.

"They are coming. They want you. They want the girl. They'll have you both if you fail Jessica. As much as you hate HIM, for them to do THOSE things to you would be so much worse. They would do it to the girl too and make you watch them."

Rage welled up within the Princess and she snapped her visor down with a snarl then charged forward.

Patrick used his shield to block the spears. From the pressure commands Daemon spun to the left as Patrick shoved the spears aside and swung the sword to take off their tips as well. He clenched his legs tight and tapped with his toes, Daemon kicked out his back legs. The man behind was thrown back from the kick. Patrick slashed downward, clashing with the swords now shifting hands.

Jessica yelled in fury as she used her legs and feet to make Mars lunge forward. She aimed the lance at the man on the far right and drove it through his chest, high of center. She let go of the lance and gave Mars another command. The robotic horse reared up to paw at the attacker in the middle. The other thrust his spear at her but only struck her shield. She shoved away at the spear on her left as Mars trampled the man in front. Jessica wheeled him left and swung her sword knocking the spear from the left side man. Mars continued to turn around and she slashed again. From her commands Mars pranced sideways to keep crowding the man now on her right as she swung the sword again. The tip sliced down the side of his face and he screamed. Jessica made Mars surge out from between them and circle around to charge at the remaining attacker. His sword ended up slamming into Mars' neck and merely clanged. Jessica thrust her sword forward, having to lean forward in her sadle to follow through. Her move was rewarded with a bellow of pain. The sword was pulled free and Jessica made Mars trample him down then circle back for the last man.

Patrick had managed to get one of his attackers to turn in confusion and he slashed high across his back making him go down. The last man now realized he was alone and bolted back into the underbrush. Patrick dismounted and checked the two bodies. Both were dead. He pulled his lance free and leaned it against Daemon then began dragging the bodies to the side of the road. Jessica saw and did the same. She was calming down but to be so angry like that was foreign to her.

"I am Jessica Weyden. I am the crowned Princess of Lurbourg," Jessica whispered to herself in effort to calm herself down even more. "I will own my anger, my anger will NOT own me!"

Slowly the rage subsided. She now felt as if the skirmish had lasted for hours instead of only mere minutes. After a drink from her canteen she cleaned her sword and lance then re-mounted as Patrick approached.

"You didn't seem to have any problems or call out," Patrick remarked.

Jessica nodded, "I'm fine. No problems. Just a little tired."

"It was real combat. It's much different from training," Patrick informed her. "Its done now. We move on and get paid. Its just the job."

Jessica nodded, "uphold the contract. Nothing is personal."

Patrick and Jessica rode back to the wagon. Gareth had his arm around Zelle.

"We're ready to move on Orvin," Patrick stated.

Jessica spoke up, "Miss. Everything is fine now. They never got past us. You both are safe."

Patrick nodded, "We did our job. We can't linger though, we need to move on. Just breathe slow and easy. You'll be fine. Let's go Orvin."

"Right," Gareth said and urged the draft horse to continue.

They rode on, but at a faster pace. The sun was starting to set when they reached the city border. A group of guards stood by the side of the road.

"Solo of the Eighty-Sixth FreeLancers with apprentice, merchant escort," Patrick stated.

Two of the soldiers stepped back to inspect the wagon.

Orvin spoke up, "Gareth Orvin. I'm expected."

The leader had been looking at his tablet and looked up, "Orvin; Gareth? Yes Sir. Proceed."

The wagon moved on, as did Patrick and Jessica. They fell in behind the wagon since he knew exactly where they were going in the city. They made their way through until a large mansion came into sight. Orvin headed directly for it. The gate was open and he led them inside the grounds to stop in front of covered front entrance. A young man came out as did an older couple. Orvin was helping Zelle down.

"Welcome! Thank you Gareth. You must be the Solos," The woman stated.

"Thank you very much for safeguarding Shazelle," the young man said after kissing her.

The older man held up his hand, "please forgive our small ruse Solo Fotens. I knew your former Commander well. I asked for you by name. Baron Larkiel, I'm the actual contractor. I'll of course revise the contract to reflect the true nature of the assignment, along with the appropriate bonuses."

Patrick looked over at Jessica and nodded. Jessica took off her helmet.

"I've heard of such doings," Jessica said.

The older woman rushed up and whispered into his ear looking very alarmed. His eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Princess Jessica Weyden? Of Lurbourg? She can't be," the Baron said then recognized her. "By the Goddess, you are!"

All four quickly acknowledged her with a bow or curtsy. Even Gareth Orvin jumped from the wagon to do so.

"Weyden is posing as my apprentice as a supplement to her education," Patrick informed them.

"Please accept our hospitality for the night! Solo Fotens. Princess Jessica. Be our guests," The Baroness exclaimed.

Jessica looked over to Patrick, "its up to you."

"Very well. We have to leave early in the morning. The Academy expects us back tomorrow evening," Patrick stated.

"Right this way," the Baron said then showed them to the stables for their horses.

Patrick and Jessica stabled their horses then collected they travel bags and followed him inside to be shown to rooms for the night. Jessica nodded to the maid waiting for her in the room. Quickly she was relieved of her armor and shown the bath. She wanted to giggle to herself as the maid quickly helped her bathe and cared for her hair. By the time Jessica was done applying her make-up and styling her hair in a simple fashion, a gown and shoes waited for her. She had just finished dressing when a knock came from the door, answered by the maid.

"Your Highness. Solo Fotens is waiting for you in the hall," the maid announced.

Jessica went out and met him. Patrick was in his Eighty-Sixth uniform, which looked freshly laundered.

"Ready Weyden," Patrick asked.

Boldly she slipped her hand into his arm, "yes."

Patrick arched an eyebrow, "out of character for you."

Jessica sighed then faced him, "Solo Fotens. Patrick, if I may. I was wrong before. I believed false statements. The blame lies with me for the way I regarded you and all Solos. I did not know all of the facts. I want to make amends for that. You have my most sincere apologies and the assurance that I will never do so again. I know that Solos do not have friends exactly. Would it be acceptable for me to say that you are someone trustworthy of any assignment? My first choice if ever I needed a professional. No, not my first choice. My only choice, for a professional."

"Quite the turn-around," Patrick commented.

"I was foolish. Self-absorbed. Very very wrong. I'm not speaking out of pride or family honor. Not even personal honor. What I did was wrong. I ask forgiveness. If I must pay for it, I will. Name the price you want," Jessica said firmly.

"We will face each other again. I want nothing less than your best. Should we face each other at Tournament the same will apply. You can not ask me for forgiveness. We faced each other on the field and I won. The only forgiveness you have any right to ask is from your parents. All that is left are the terms of the contract," Patrick stated.

Jessica sighed, "that's all I can get. Still, I was wrong for what I did. With all my heart I apologize to for the way I treated you. I will abide by the terms."

Patrick nodded, "let's not keep our hosts waiting."

Jessica slip her hand back onto Patrick's arm and followed him to the dining room.

"Ah there you both are. Please join us," The Baroness welcomed them again noting their entrance.

Jessica nodded to her, "well I am in Solo Fotens' charge. Any opportunity to learn something, I won't waste. I do have so much to learn still."

Shazelle came forward and curtsied, "Highness. I can't imagine what you have left to learn, I was completely fooled by your disguise. I'm so very glad that I was in your care."

Jessica took her hands and smiled, "you're a very nice young lady. Hang on to that."

The Baron entered, "pardon my tardiness. Please be comfortable. Highness please take my seat. Solo Fotens, right here if you would."

The Baron had indicated Jessica sit at the head of the table with Patrick in the first seat to her right then sat opposite him after seating the Baroness. The butler came in, leading the dining staff to serve the dinner. The conversation was light, as three of the diners were more interested in eating than talking. After dinner the Baron asked Patrick to join him in the study. The Baroness asked Jessica if she would like to join her, but she declined stating that she would accompany Patrick and the Baron.

Larkiel closed the door after they came in.

"Please be seated," he gestured to a group of chairs.

Jessica sat down as did Patrick, Larkiel sat opposite them and brought out his tablet.

"Again, my apology for the ruse Solo Fotens, though I must admit your ruse was better than mine," Larkiel confided.

Patrick took out his battle ledger, "business Larkiel. Three days of escort for a noble. Two days battle wages with victory bonuses for both. For each day of deception a penalty of half that will be imposed. These rates are for one Solo and one Apprentice. Plus expenses."

Baron Larkiel nodded, "of course."

A total was reached then approved and the contract re-written and sent back to Patrick's ledger after being signed. The Baron counted out the coins in front of them then bagged them.

He passed the bag over, "There we are. Does this settle the account and conclude the contract?"

"It does," Patrick nodded. "We'll be leaving at sunrise."

"Thank you for the hospitality Baron," Jessica added.

"Consider it an apology to you both. I hope you understand," Larkiel said.

Patrick stood up, "Good evening Larkiel."

Jessica and Patrick went out. He guided her into the garden and they walked.

"When he made the statement 'he hoped we understood' there was no reply to give. The account had been settled as per the revised contract. Anything other than disregard to the statement would have implied personal involvement. You thanked him for the hospitality. That is acceptable but not expected. Normally the invitation would not be accepted. We get paid and immediately move on," Patrick informed her.

Jessica thought about that then asked, "why did you accept the invitation? I had said it was up to you, which it was because I am still in your charge."

Patrick stopped, "for your benefit. You already know how Solos deal with the general public now. You needed to learn how Solos deal with people of standing. Noble or royal are regarded in the same manner. Hospitality was extended mostly for your benefit. Larkiel knows he had to make up for tricking us, normally that would have simply been everything that happened in study. Staying overnight and all that is for you. Had you not been who you are he wouldn't have felt guilty for doing it. He feels guilty for tricking a royal, something a noble isn't supposed to do. He had a reason to trick a Solo and was willing to pay the penalty for doing so. Tricking a royal learning how Solos work wasn't part of the equation."

"I would like to say that everyone should be honest all the time, but I'm guilty too. I guess only the Gods and Goddesses are truthful all the time," Jessica commented.

Patrick started laughing. Jessica looked at him in confusion as he laughed even harder. For several minutes he laughed and she was starting to think he was laughing directly at her.

"And just WHAT is so funny," she asked, annoyed.

Patrick coughed from laughing, "you think Gods and Goddesses are always truthful! That's very funny!"

Jessica looked shocked, "what do you mean? They aren't?"

Patrick looked at her finally, "The Gods and the Goddesses can be relied on to do one thing at all times. Serve themselves!"

"But they reward prayers! They've even been known to take mortal wives or husbands," Jessica protested.

Patrick chuckled, "they've also been known to seduce and rape. For every ten thousand prayers, only one will be answered. Answered for the express purpose of ensuring continued faith and worship. They've been known to also take part in mortal battles, mostly out of boredom. They watch and place wagers on the outcome. I pray to none. Owe none. Commanded by none. I serve only myself. That is something they and I understand."

Jessica was shocked but thought it was now or never, "why did you take my mother's contract?"

"Only the incredibly stupid would refuse. If I wanted to I would not have to work for at least ten years. The question you should be asking is, why you and not herself? Only one person can answer that," Patrick stated. "Ask her."

Jessica suddenly felt small and alone, "h-have you ever? Before?"

Patrick shook his head, "no."

"I'm afraid," Jessica confessed.

"I'm sure you are. I can not help you Weyden. There is no reason why I can not fulfill the terms. You are still under your parents. They see no reason why the terms can not be fulfilled. Any objection you have, must be made to them. I suggest you retire for the night. Tomorrow will be here soon enough. Tomorrow things will be like the first day. I will be protecting you more than teaching. Good night Weyden," Patrick said.

Jessica slowly walked away and went inside.

"That was in an interesting conversation," Daalumos remarked from inside a shadow.

Patrick turned, "don't you mean that it was amusing?"

The Lust chuckled, "oh it was. I meant your side. It was almost as if you were pitying the Mortal. Still I wonder why you choose to continue this nonsense."

"How long have we been here," Patrick asked.

Daalumos replied, "almost ten mortal years."

"Seven years before taking this facade. Two years with the Solos and eight months at the Academy. I learned next to nothing in those first seven years. I have learned more in the eight months at the Academy than I did the two years with the Solos. There is still more to learn," Patrick stated.

The bound demon snorted, "as you wish my Mistress."

Patrick went inside to the room he'd been given and went to sleep so after.
 
 
 
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Chapter 8 of     The Nightmare Rider

Patrick woke and stood up. A moment later there was a knock followed by a maid entering.

"Pardon me Sir. I came to wake you. I see you're awake already. May I help you with anything," the maid asked.

Patrick shook his head, "nothing for me. Wake up Weyden. Were you given any other instructions?"

The maid nodded, "yes Sir. The cook is already awake and ready for whatever you wish for breakfast."

"Breakfast steak, thick, three eggs, fried potatoes for myself. Prepare the same for Weyden but only by half. Oh and toast or biscuits," Patrick listed. "We'll eat in the kitchen."

"Sir, the Baron is joining your breakfast. You'll have to be served in the dining room," The maid informed him.

Patrick merely grunted and waved her off. The maid rushed to Jessica's room and woke her then offered to help her get ready. She was very surprised when Jessica told her make-up and hair-styling wouldn't be needed and began to get ready for armor. The maid helped her install each piece.

"You assist often," Jessica asked.

The maid shook her head, "No your Highness. I apologize if I am doing something wrong."

Jessica smiled to her, "not wrong. Just a little slow. Speed comes from repetition though. I've gotten used to doing for myself now. Solos don't have anybody to do for them so I had to learn myself. I was rather spoiled."

While Jessica buckled on the sword belt and combat sword the maid ensured all her things were packed away, including the dress and shoes she had been given. Jessica followed her downstairs to join Patrick and the Baron at the table.

"Your Highness, good morning. Right here if you would," The Baron stood and seated Jessica at the head of the table.

Jessica sat, "thank you Baron Larkiel."

The plates of food were brought in.

Larkiel noticed and asked, "I'm rather curious as to why you're having that?"

Patrick looked up, "It lasts longer and doesn't slow us down later."

The Baron, to his credit, was very quick on the uptake to realize the implied meaning. It meant they would be less likely to have to stop to relieve themselves by eating those particular foodstuffs. Also that it would be with them longer, meaning they would not have to eat on the go until much later.

"I understand. Highness, I envy you the knowledge you are receiving. I confess I never had this kind of close interaction with Solos before. I find it very enlightening. I count myself lucky to have have needed the services of Solos only a few times. You see I went to the Academy with Solo Fotens former Commander. He was impressive back then. The consummate professional. I only hired him and those that served under him. That is why I hired Solos Fotens. I knew the results I would be paying for. Money well spent. I'm even more glad that I continued to do so. Professional of the caliber to be educating a Princess in the ways of the Solos is quite the feature for a ledger," Larkiel stated.

Jessica sipped her juice, "That's a bold statement."

Larkiel shook his head, "its a FACTUAL statement Highness. When results matter most, it is best to bring in Solos. I can understand why you are under Solo Fotens charge. Had I a child still at the Academy, I would consider it myself. It will serve you well to learn as much as you can from Solo Fotens. Many make mistakes when they hire Solos, especially the first time. You will have knowledge others will not that will keep from committing offense. Far better to pay a little more to ensure you are getting exactly what you seek than to pay penalties for making mistakes and quite possibly not getting anything at all."

Jessica felt the temptation to comment about tricking a Solo into providing a higher value service at a lower initial agreement. She almost did then remembered Patrick's instructions of not running her mouth off.

"I'll remember that," Jessica said.

They finished eating and left the table. The butler met them in the hall.

"My Lord; their horses are ready and waiting," the butler informed him.

"Thank you," Larkiel replied and led them outside.

A stable-hand stood ready by Jessica's horse. He bowed to her then assisted her to mount Mars. When she settled into her saddle he handed her the lance as well.

"Highness I noticed your lance was damaged. I replaced it. Sir I checked your lance. It only needed recharging. Both horses were cleaned and recharged to Full," the stable-hand informed him.

"Good," Patrick replied. "How much for the lance?"

Baron Larkiel shook his head, "count it as an expense. It was a lance from the Academy wasn't it?"

Jessica nodded, "it was."

"I'm sure they'd rather a new one than a damaged one. If they have any questions please have them contact me directly," the Baron instructed.

"Thank you," Jessica said then turned to Patrick. "All set."

Patrick nodded to the Baron, "Larkiel."

"Good journey to you both," the Baron replied.

With that the two rode out. Outside the gate of the grounds Patrick sped them up to a light gallop. When they reached the edge of town Jessica was confused when he directed them off the roadway and across open fields at a hard gallop.

"We won't make back in time unless we cut across country. It will be rougher but faster. Without the wagon following we can do it," Patrick told her.

Jessica answered back, "you know best. I'm right behind you."

For hours they rode. Passing down game trails and racing across natural meadows. Every now and then they passed over roads. Once a small village had been in view but Patrick ignored it and rode on with Jessica following directly behind. At midday they slowed to a walk.

"THAT was a hard ride," Jessica commented, glad to slow down.

Patrick stopped and dismounted, "we need to walk for a while."

Jessica did the same and walked beside him, "do we have the time?"

Patrick reached into his saddlebag and brought out a map and held it up as they walked.

"We started here. The Academy is here. With the exception of these two rivers, its a straight ride. Now that looks like half a day but its not. Its a full day. We left before sunrise so we'll get back before or just at sunset unless something happens," Patrick informed her.

Jessica looked at the map in wonder, "this is so detailed!"

"Only Solos carry maps like this. They're made by the Fourth Battalion FreeBooters. Its a really big battalion. Most have four or five companies. The Fourth has ten. Four of which are tasked specifically for map making. They create the maps and sell them. Only Solos can buy them," Patrick said.

Jessica looked disappointed for a moment then realized she needed to set it aside. Now that they were going slow, it was a good time to learn.

"Fourth Regiment and Battalion are investigators. Let's say I forget who specializes in what; how do I find out again," Jessica asked.

Patrick put the map away, "any village of a considerable size will have a registry. Big or small depends on the size of the place. You can go there and ask for listings for a fee. Once per month the listings are updated. The list states the units, size and what they do. You can ask the registrar to short-list for you for another processing fee. Most units check in with offices as they travel. When you get the short list you can have it any way you want. They'll list those units by size, price, location; whatever your priority is."

Jessica thought about that but wanted to revisit something else, "ok Baron Larkiel made some comments at the table this morning. He acts like the whole matter of tricking you meant nothing."

"He paid the fees so it doesn't anymore. Once the right total was paid the account was settled and the contract was closed. End of story," Patrick replied.

Jessica frowned, "but you were hired under false pretenses!"

Patrick stopped and sighed, "people lie Weyden. Its not the first time and won't be the last. Everybody wants something and they'll do what it takes to get it or keep it. Some lies are small, some are big. The thing is, what do you do when you've been caught in that lie. Larkiel admitted to the lie right when the job was done. He didn't have to. To him, it was justifiable. The only guilt he felt was that you were involved. However he did confess instead of being caught so he's off the hook. He made the account right, so it doesn't go against him for the record."

"Still though," Jessica muttered.

"Everybody lies about something sometime. Doesn't matter what or why to me. They think they have a reason and I don't care. I generally know when and sometimes I can even figure out what the lie is. The main point is; they always pay for lying to me. I've yet to encounter a lie that can't be settled. Everything has a price Weyden. What you are willing to pay is the question," Patrick said.

For half an hour they talked while they walked then remounted and continued on at the same speed.

Fiona Doucet sat quietly watching the training going on down in the arena. Few knew she was there. The ones that knew where she was sitting was even fewer. She liked her secret viewing spot. Down below the third years were training.

"Dante looks to be recovered," a voice said beside her.

"Hello your Highness," Fiona smiled.

Prince Vaan Arento sat down beside her, "our fickle Fiona. You know you're quite welcome to call me by name only."

Fiona continued to smile, "I know Vaan. So how many girls have you made to blush and how many boys have you terrorized today?"

"Not nearly enough," the flamboyant Prince chuckled. "Oh its a good thing that was a target. Dante would have took a real person out of their saddle with that strike."

Fiona nodded, "textbook form. That's his problem. I pity him day after tomorrow."

Vaan sighed, "ah yes. His rematch with the delicious Patrick Fotens, Solo Extraordinaire! It will be a pitiful sight, but I'll be watching as well."

"He has you THAT worried," Fiona asked with a sly giggle.

Vaan laughed, "oh my wonderful best friend; I would have to be the fool everyone is convinced I am to not be worried. His strength alone is cause enough for concern. Add in his skill and it grows to worry. If his record became common knowledge then many of our underclass would wet themselves in fright to see him opposing them!"

Fiona nodded, "some of the upper-class as well."

"Indeed. I do wonder what tricks your would-be suitor has in store. I'm sure this year will take a dramatic turn for the nasty," Vaan remarked.

"What is his bounty on you," Fiona asked.

Vaan chuckled, "nothing escapes you. Two hundred coins to unhorse me three lances. Six hundred to claim my helmet. I heard one young man say that he was going to challenge you for your panties. Another simply wants a kiss if he can stay on his horse against you."

"Amusing and sweet. Nice combination. I'll probably give the kiss regardless. Its not me I'm worried about," Fiona admitted.

This got the Prince interested, "OH? Fiona what juicy gossip have you this time?"

Fiona checked to make sure no one was around then whispered, "If Patrick Fotens places higher than Jessica Weyden then she will be having a liaison with him after graduation. If he wins she'll be pulled from the Academy for it to be immediately. Queen Lellaa herself negotiated the contract."

"OH MY! And Jessica knows? Where is she by the way," Vaan asked concerned.

Fiona nodded, "she knows. Um, she accompanied him on an assignment. As his apprentice. They're due back this evening."

Vaan sat and listened as Fiona explained the whole situation. Finally he sighed.

"Rather underhanded for her Majesty. I've no doubt it will be effective though. Jessica will be slapped out of her mindset. I believe she will change for the better and be able to buy out of the contract. However she is more than likely too upset over the whole thing to ask about that of Fotens. I'm sad that neither of us can do anything to help her. Only she can do for herself. Its time she did put away childish things," Vaan remarked then leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Just take care not to take your frustration out on me."

Fiona laughed, "I'll be fair. I'll win but I'll be fair to you Vaan. You're my only friend after all."

"Oh. I just remembered. There's a lottery going on among the first and second years to be your squires," Vaan chuckled.

Fiona laughed again, "what about you?"

Vaan smiled devilishly, "I found a lovely set of twins."

The Countess shook her head giggling, "you're absolutely shameless Vaan."

Prince Vaan Arento winked and left.

Down on the ground someone edged back in the tunnel and left. The young man rushed over to the High Nobles' lounge and went in. In the far corner by a bookcase sat a young man. He wore white riding pants and shirt with a red velvet jacket trimmed in gold.

"So. What's going on out there Eaton," He asked.

Eaton Laanower replied, "Dante is looking strong but he's still stupid. You won't have anything to worry about with him Jeffries."

Jeffries Talfar casually turned the page of the book he was reading, "did Fiona see you?"

The young Lord shook his head, "she wasn't there. I didn't see her."

The future Duke of Bergitan smirked, "Fiona was there. She has a very good hiding place to watch from. What else did you see?"

"Not much of anything. I did see a woman dressed like a royal talking to Sir Belvin," Eaton commented.

Talfar nodded, "Lellaa Weyden. The Queen of Lurbourg. Was Jessica training?"

Eaton leaned against another chair, "no. She wasn't there at all. In fact nobody has seen her for a few days."

"She must be still humiliated after losing her family sword," Talfar chuckled.

"Its not lost. That Queen has it. I saw her wearing it down there," Eaton informed him.

Talfar finally looked up, "What?"

Eaton nodded, "That Queen has the sword."

Jeffries Talfar looked confused, "how can that be? The sword was part of the penalty if Jessica lost to that Solo bastard Fotens. The sword and a hundred coins. How can her mother have it?"

"If anybody knows, they aren't saying. Maybe he sold it back," Eaton Laanower proposed.

"Solos don't ransom. Find out. What was he doing down there," Talfar asked.

Eaton shrugged, "he wasn't there either. He's on assignment."

Talfar waved him to go.

It was late afternoon when one of the towns close to the Academy came into view.

"Is that what I think it is," Jessica called out.

"Pendona," Patrick answered. "Ten minutes."

Jessica felt elated, "and the Academy five minutes after!"

"If we hold the pace Weyden. Can you handle it," Patrick asked.

"DEFINITELY," Jessica laughed.

They held the hard pace and only slowed when they could see the gate of the Academy. The two rode in and stopped at the stables. A stable-hand ran out and greeted them as Jessica dismounted.

Patrick however rode his horse after signaling she should follow him. They checked in with the office. Jessica was confirmed to be back then Patrick signed back in.

"So what now," Jessica asked.

Patrick pushed the clipboard back, "whatever it is that you do. The assignment is over. I am no longer in charge of you Weyden."

He turned to the secretary, "I'll be back in the morning to resume courses."

"Certainly Solo Fotens. Have a good evening," She replied.

Jessica nodded to him, "Solo Fotens. Oh, before you go. Do both towns have a registry?"

Patrick nodded, "yes and both close in three hours."

"Thank you," Jessica said and rushed off.

Patrick left. He remounted Daemon and rode out. Twenty minutes later he stopped in front of the shack and began to take his things inside. Daemon was brought inside and shut down to save the battery. Patrick hide everything carefully, including the armor then went into the darkened room.

"Welcome back my Mistress," Daalumos said with a chuckle.

Phoebe padded forward on her bare feet, "I felt you leave us when the town came into view."

The Lust followed her to the bath and stood talking while she began to clean up, "there was no need for me to be there so I returned. No mortals have invaded our place."

After rinsing off Phoebe sighed as she settled into the deep bath, "tonight should be quiet. Tomorrow night we visit our little priestess."

"That should be interesting. If we are staying in then I am going to rest," Daalumos remarked.

Phoebe nodded and waved the demon away. Thirty minutes later she sat on her throne and let herself drift off to sleep.

Jessica all but burst into her room and began quickly taking off the borrowed armor. It was more like she was flinging it off. In moments she was naked and jumping into her shower. Many long minutes later she came out toweling off and squealed in surprise.

"MOTHER! Oh Mother you almost gave me heart failure," Jessica complained.

Lellaa gestured to the discarded armor and clothing, "you seemed to be in quite the hurry."

Jessica nodded then began to brush her hair, "I have to hurry! The Solo Registry closes soon and there are some things I need to get."

"OH? Like what," the Queen asked.

Jessica was using a hair drier so had to speak louder, "I need to get the current listings. I have to submit a report about Solos, remember? I can't do a half measure!"

Lellaa knew that her daughter wouldn't be able to hear her so waited until she was finished. Quietly she sat while Jessica styled her hair in a simple fashion and applied basic make-up then dressed.

"My my. You certainly look bent on a mission," Lellaa remarked watching Jessica put on her clothes.

"I am Mother," Jessica replied then called down to the stable. "This is Princess Jessica Weyden. Has my horse charged enough to go into town and back? Excellent. Could you please saddle him for me and have him at the front entrance. My Ladies' saddle please. Thank you."

"Mine as well," Lellaa said quickly.

Jessica added, "Queen Weyden's horse as well. Thank you."

Lellaa switched her shoes to riding boots while Jessica put on her own then buckled on the plain sword. She wanted to chuckle to herself when she saw Jessica adjust the belt to sit similar to those favored by Solos.

"Hurry Mother! They'll close soon," Jessica urged.

Lellaa did her best and held back a laugh, "yes yes Jessica. I'm coming. There, I'm ready."

Quickly they went down to the front entrance, pausing for Jessica to sign out, then mounted their waiting horses. Two hours later they returned. Jessica held a clutch of papers and wore a new sword.

"Class. I'm suspending the normal lesson today. Princess Weyden has a special report and will be presenting it to the class," Dame Ayalla announced.

Everyone quieted and watched as Jessica left her seat and went to the front. The Headmaster and Queen Lellaa sat in the back. Outside the door Countess Fiona Doucet listened.

Jessica nodded to the teacher, "thank you Dame Ayalla. I've been absent the past few days for some very special lessons. I was under the tutelage of Solo Patrick Fotens. You see, for quite some time my view of Solos has been very inappropriate. I could put it a different way, but that would be wrong. I was wrong. My mother learned Solo Fotens was undertaking an assignment. She thought it would be educational for me to accompany him and learn the ways of Solos. My mother was right. In Solo Fotens charge I learned many things that are not taught here in the Academy. In short, I was posing as his apprentice. My instructions were fairly simply, though the task was not. Please indulge me as I present this report of my experiences."

The class, except Patrick, sat shocked to hear where she had been. They sat paying rapt attention as she held her paper and began to read.

"There are many that view Solos in a harsh light. Unfortunately there are many more that view Solos in an incorrect light. I was one of those. My view was that Solos were nothing more than thugs for hire. I was so very wrong. A Solo has only the terms of the contract. No home, no country, no allies, no friends, no politics and no ego. They are frequently heaped with insults and disrespect. I should know, as I did so myself and I am ashamed of myself for it," she had said all that without looking at her papers but began to now.

Jessica read, "Solos are able to provide a variety of services beyond supplementing fighting forces on the battlefield. They can be hired to escort persons of importance. Security for goods in transit. Some even provide information in the form of investigations. There are Solos that can maintain or even establish order in places that lack lawful authority. Specialized combat units are available as well. Solos are known for performing their service and when the assignment has concluded they collect their pay then leave. We all know this, but exactly what does that mean? Unlike sponsored armies, such as those of a kingdom or house; Solos only take their pay. They don't collect spoils or take prisoners for ransom and so forth. ONLY the pay that was establish PRIOR to the service they render."

She looked over to Patrick, who gave her a subtle nod that she was correct.

"To do otherwise would imply a personal involvement. A Solo does NOT take personal involvement. They do not engage in altercations outside a contract's terms. We; as Royals, Nobles and Gentry, have attachments to houses and kingdoms. What we do reflects upon those we represent. We take offense when slighted, or perceive to be slighted. Solos do not. The only offenses you can commit against Solos are those of business, to which penalties will apply," Jessica explained.

For twenty minutes she went on about specialized and general services that could be provided by Solos along with the benefits of doing so. She also included some of the more common infractions made against Solos and the penalties associated. Some students gasped when she revealed to them how she had been able to go on the assignment and the measures she took to conceal her identity. Queen Lellaa noted the number of people that had ended up taking notes of Jessica's lecture. She also had the distinct feeling that several times Jessica went 'off-script' to add insight that she had overlooked when writing the report.

"So you see; at the end of the day there is nothing personal. Only the terms of the contract. I had no understanding of that prior. Please understand that my previous views of Solos had been influenced negatively. I have since changed that perspective. Under professional tutelage I have been corrected and hope that my understanding improves more. The way of Solos is not what we think it is. Its never simple. I would not be up to the challenge of living as a Solo," Jessica concluded and placed the papers on Dame Ayalla's lectern.

Jessica was about to go back to her seat but stopped and frowned then regarded the class, "my classmates. Previously I disrupted the class. What I did was unacceptable, not just as a Princess, but more importantly as a STUDENT. The class paid for my indiscretion by having rushed lessons to make up for a day missed. I sincerely apologize for that. With my promise that I will NOT do so again, I hope you will forgive me. As a student I should be focused on my education. As a Princess, I should be more encouraging to you for your own. This is what I shall strive to do from now on. Again, my deepest apologies. Thank you for this time you've given me."

With that, Jessica curtsied then returned to her seat.

Dame Ayalla took her place at the lectern, "Very well said Princess. Your report was quite enlightening. Even I learned some things I didn't know before. Perhaps there should be the suggestion of some type of workshop about the services and hiring of Solos. Perhaps even some guest speakers."

"If I may, Dame Ayalla. I'd be happy to speak with Countess Doucet about submitting a proposal to the Headmaster," Jessica replied. "Of course this would be contracted as a consultant service."

From there the planned lessons took place. Queen Lellaa and the Headmaster left. Fiona Doucet had already slipped away when Jessica had finished. After classes for the day Jessica and Lellaa sat in the visitors' lounge.

"Well Jessica, I was very impressed today. Your report was very good. I believe accompanying Solo Fotens on his assignment did you a lot good," Lellaa commented.

Jessica nodded, "I was childish and stupid. If nothing else Mother, I came away at the very least; respectful."

"And so you learned more about contracts with Solos," Lellaa remarked.

"Yes Mother. Terms are upheld or penalties will apply. Penalties that are severe," Jessica said. "Especially in my case. I understand the penalty."

Lellaa regarded her daughter intently, "quite. I take you are still unhappy about the liaison."

"As I said; I was childish and stupid. Solo Fotens is the consummate Solo. He did no wrong, I did. My objection is not against him. Its against the contract. Mother I would very much prefer to have my first child as part of love shared with a husband instead of the calculated result of rendered services," Jessica admitted.

Lellaa looked as if she was pondering that statement, "the problem with wanting that my dear daughter; you've done nothing in effort to find an agreement, much less love. Many things have been coming to me while I waited for your return. The kindest rumor is that you may be a lesbian. The most popular is that you believe yourself too good for anyone."

Jessica looked down, "that was how I felt. As I said, I was being childish and stupid. I will not be so any longer. I understand the penalty clause Mother."

"I take it Solo Fotens only answered your questions about the contract as it pertained to your involvement," Lellaa asked.

Jessica nodded.

Lellaa nodded back, "I see. So he didn't tell you about escape clauses."

"Escape clause? What's that," Jessica asked.

"Oh that's there in case one party wants to back out before anything is done. Essentially its buying out the contract," Lellaa answered airily.

Jessica's jaw dropped, "buy out the contract? That can be done?"

Lellaa frowned at her, "yes. You sound like you may be interested in doing that."

Jessica stood up and faced her Mother and curtsied, "Mother. What must be done for the escape clause?"

The Queen stared intently at her daughter then finally answered, "The maximum settlement in full. A Paladin model Warhorse, complete Voyager Campaign outfitting, custom armor and seventy-five thousand coins. The sword he has was the deposit and is non-refundable. If you want to use the escape clause then YOU must make the settlement. I will allow you to do so, but its all on you. Are you angry you weren't informed of that?"

"I didn't ask and he said he had no problem fulfilling the terms of the contract. I'm only disappointed in myself for not thinking of asking Mother," Jessica admitted.

Lellaa pointed to the door. Jessica understood she meant her to go to it. Jessica opened the door and found Fiona Doucet standing with Patrick Fotens in the corridor.

"Please come in," Jessica invited.

Patrick followed Fiona inside.

Fiona curtsied to the Queen, "I've brought Solo Fotens as you asked your Majesty."

Lellaa nodded to her, "thank you Countess. If you would be so kind."

Fiona stepped over to the side as Patrick came forward.

"Weyden," Patrick nodded to her.

Lellaa nodded back, "thank you for making time. My daughter is now aware of the escape clause. She has expressed her desire to buy out the contract. Would you object to my granting her permission to do so?"

Patrick answered, "She would have to meet the terms of the clause. If she can meet the terms and you have no objection, then I have no objection."

Lellaa nodded to Jessica. Jessica stepped forward and addressed Patrick.

"Thank you for allowing the contract buy out. I will order the equipment first thing tomorrow. I can have an armorer here after classes at the end of the week to collect the measurements and color selection," Jessica said.

Patrick nodded then looked to Queen Lellaa.

Lellaa smiled, "I did not forget. We can settle the contract for the assignment right now if you like."

Patrick nodded and took out his battle ledger, "There was an inaccuracy in the contract that was revised."

"Ah yes. Jessica told me about it. She also informed me that you were aware they were trying to deceive you. Indeed your experience just lends more credence that I was right in your ability to educate my daughter. Solo Fotens I have no objection to revising own our contract to honor our agreement. I also understand there were some expenses incurred. Please add that to the total," Lellaa said.

Patrick went through the revised contract and added the expenses. He corrected the contract and send it to her tablet and passed over the tickets. Lellaa signed off and send it back then counted the money and passed it over. Patrick deposited the coins into a pouch.

Patrick put his ledger away, "the account is settled and concludes that contract."

Lellaa smiled, "It was very good doing business with you Solo Fotens. I've passed the contract to Jessica and she will conclude it when the settlement has been taken care of. I still look forward to seeing you at Tournament."

Patrick nodded then turned to go.

"Just a moment. Solo Fotens do you have any information pertinent about Jessica in Tournament," Lellaa asked.

Patrick nodded, "ten coins worth."

Lellaa counted out the coins and passed them over.

"Laanower is going to target your left arm using a personal lance on the first run. The plan is to make you more vulnerable to everyone else so that you won't get near Talfar," Patrick said.

"Money well spent again. Thank you Solo Fotens," Lellaa said.

Patrick simply turned and left. There was nothing left to discuss.

After the door closed Fiona looked over, "that was something I wasn't aware of. I seem to be slipping."

Lellaa shook her heard, "If he knows the plan for Jessica then I think its safe to assume that he knows any plans concerning himself as well. Jeffries Talfar isn't so foolish to overlook any threat, no matter how remote. If Solo Fotens is as you both have claimed then I have no doubt that There is some plan that is in motion for him as well."

"He's not going to show me any quarter next week. I almost pity Lorenz Dante. Its seems as if everybody already knows he can't win but has to ride against him anyway," Jessica commented.

Fiona said gently, "The fact that Dante understands he will be defeated yet will still sit in his saddle tall and proud isn't a sign of foolishness. It is a sign of character. He has the strength to face his shortcomings and accept the outcome. Good day my Ladies."

With that Fiona curtsied to the two royals and left.
 
 
 
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Chapter 9 of     The Nightmare Rider

Phoebe rode Daalumos in and out of shadows until they finally emerged in front of the small temple. The Malzeek family stood waiting. The BloodLust felt like indulging his humor. He reared up on his hind legs and let loose an almost ear shattering shriek. After a moment of thought Tam Malzeek came forward and bowed.

"Welcome Goddess," Lord Malzeek said, offering her his hand to dismount.

Phoebe looked at his hand a moment then took it and dismounted. Tam turned to Daalumos and bowed to him as well.

"We are pleased to be greeted," Phoebe said and advanced to the family as Tam escorted her.

Celia Malzeek smiled and curtsied, "My Goddess. Your offering waits inside. May I attend you?"

Phoebe nodded, "yes."

Together they went into the temple. Soon Phoebe's armor was off and sat on a stand by a dark stone throne-like chair. A pair of delicate looking sandals with a high slender heel slipped onto her feet and a long gown was lowered over her. The effect was striking. Black silk tinted with red. Like a shadow tinged with blood or fire. A long slit off center exposed a length of shapely leg.

One by one the family members entered followed by Daalumos who stood off to the side. Sania came up and knelt at Phoebe's feet.

"Do you like it all Goddess Phoebe," the girl asked.

Phoebe leaned forward and kissed her forehead, "I am pleased. You and your new family have done well."

A boy hobbled forward and bowed as he could without falling over.

"Come closer Mica Malzeek," Phoebe commanded.

When he was within reach she slowly passed her hand over him, lingering at the small of his back then his head.

"You were injured as a babe. You fell. Because your body suffered, your mind became strong. I have never healed other than myself. I cannot assure success, only the effort. Do you wish this," Phoebe asked.

"Yes My Goddess," Mica answered. "What must I do?"

"Prepare him and take place on my altar," Phoebe ordered.

Quickly he removed his clothes and and a bucket of water was poured over him to rinse him clean. Tam picked him up and laid him on the altar then turned him over to lay face down. Phoebe stepped close. Sania stood beside her.

"I need a small amount of your blood my priestess," Phoebe stated to her.

Sania took a small knife and carefully cut her arm and let the blood drip into a wine glass then held it up.

Phoebe dipped her fingertip and drew some designs on the boy's lower back then spoke in the language of the Underworld.

" Hurt of old become new," Phoebe said.

A loud crack was heard and Mica screamed in pain.

Phoebe continued, " as you were once become again. Take rightful place and trouble no more. Mend and be as was intended from day born!"

A grinding was heard, like gravel held in hand trying to crush against itself then a final loud snap. Mica lay on the altar breathing raggedly from the pain.

"Stand up young Malzeek," Phoebe ordered. "Stand up for yourself."

Slowly Mica clambered to stand atop the altar. His previous stance was not used. He stood normally, but it was evident he was exhausted from the pain.

Phoebe nodded then gestured for him to climb down, "move about on your own."

Mica slowly shuffled around the room and began to move more confidently. Despite that, it was obvious the boy was exhausted from the pain of the healing.

"Th-thank you Goddess. How may I serve you," Mica asked.

Phoebe looked at him intently, "your body is as it should be now, but your mind is of more import. It is very strong and sharp. Use that. Acquire wealth for your family."

Mica Malzeek bowed slowly, "I will my Goddess."

Several servants had quietly entered the temple. Phoebe pointed to two.

"You two. Attend the boy. See to it he is bathed and put to bed," Phoebe instructed.

"Yes Goddess," the two maids answered and curtsied to her then went to task.

Phoebe looked down to Sania, "when I am not here, only you may sit here."

The girl smiled, "yes Goddess. Thank you!"

Sir Aldo quietly entered. Phoebe took notice and beckoned him to approach.

"Goddess. I have brought the shield Mistress Sania will have when she is ready for the Academy," Aldo stated and took the covering of the shield.

The cloth taken off Phoebe could see the Malzeek family crest adorned the front. Phoebe regarded it then stood up and went to the altar.

"Place it here," she instructed. "The other way. Show me the reverse side."

Aldo turned it over for her. Phoebe took her Vulcan sword and very carefully used only the tip. She inscribed the backside of the shield with words and art.

Phoebe rested her hand on the shield and closed her eyes. Her lips moved but no words were heard. Finally she stopped and looked to Sania.

"This shield has a touch of power. Those that smash against it will not readily wish to again," Phoebe cautioned.

Sania tried to pick up the shield but found it too heavy.

"C-can't. Goddess I can't. This means I can't have it? Will somebody else have to have it," Sania asked fearfully.

Phoebe shook her head, "no Child. You are not yet ready. You will grow and garner strength. Shield in one hand, Lance or sword in the other. I encourage this."

Phoebe went over to Daalumos and took two bags that were slung across his shoulders and set them on the altar.

"I have secured your tribute to this Academy they speak of. Only yourself stands in your way now," Phoebe said then turned to the others. "Malzeek. Guard her tribute. You may all go now. The words I will speak are for her alone."

All the adults left after showing their respect. Sir Aldo took the shield and promised it would be in her room.

Phoebe turned to Sania after they had all gone and began to strip.

"Child. You must not forget what is important. The love of the mother whom gave you birth. That love is why you have entered my service. You come from a far away hovel. These mortals have taken you in as their own. Honor them at this Academy. Only in battle against your enemies may you show rage. Keep your anger in check. Through prayer you have gained, only through hard work will you earn and keep more. I do not pray. There is no one for me to pray to. I must earn all I have and all I wish to have. You have prayed to me and I have provided for you. Now you must begin to earn," Phoebe said then began attaching her armor and boots.

Finally she swept the cloak about her shoulders, "the little girl born of a poor hovel was then. That is where you came from. Now you are the taken daughter of a great house and soon to be WarPriestess. Honor is not born, it is earned. You are a mortal and that is your way. I have no need of honor for myself. You will. Ensure that all you have is never disputed. Earn everything. I take my leave now. I will come and go at my leisure."

"Yes Goddess. I will earn everything by getting smart and strong," Sania proclaimed then curtsied as her adoptive mother had taught her.

Patrick walked through the corridor amid constant whispers. That was usual. That no one was stopping as he drew near was new. It wasn't hard to understand why. Yesterday a royal with a reputation for having an extreme hatred for Solos submitted a lengthy report upon the services performed by Solos after being under On-Assignment tutelage of one. Even the instructors gave him subtle nods of approval. None of which mattered to him. Patrick turned a corner and went outside. The urge to frown was hard to resist. Vaan Arento sat on a bench holding a rose up to smell.

"Ah! Solo Fotens," The Prince exclaimed.

He all but jumped up and bounded over to Patrick.

Patrick continued to walk, "you wouldn't ambush me out of boredom Arento; what's on your mind?"

Vaan Arento matched stride, "I read the most FASCINATING report this morning!"

"Everyday Coif and Cravat Styling for the Casual Prince," Patrick asked.

The Prince gawked. He knew Patrick Fotens was fairly quick-witted, but this was a first. He was sarcastic and joking at the same time. Even more, the comment was completely befitting and funny. Vaan laughed hard. So hard tears came to his eyes. He had to wipe his eyes as they walked toward the Ward Rooms.

"Solo Fotens it was such a pity your magnificent comment was only heard by the two of us! It was beyond legendary," Arento chuckled finally. "I must pass over fair coin for it though, never have I been so bested before."

Vaan dug into his jacket pocket and took out several coins and handed them over.

Patrick took the coins as they walked into the Solos' Ward Room. An assistant noticed them come in and nodded. Patrick opened his closet then began to undress.

"Oh yes. You wanted to know about our encounter," Vaan stated.

Patrick hung up his sword belt and took off his jacket, "play around too much and I have to charge you for Hold-Over."

"Certainly. I'll get to my point Solo Fotens. Its about Dante. He is wanting to offer up a new armor for the contest today. Would that be agreeable," Vaan asked.

Patrick shook his head, "I'll be acquiring new armor in a couple of weeks. I also have a new sword. I take it this is for the revisit of the contest?"

The Prince nodded, "it is. Well that certainly complicates matters. New Armor was going to stretch his resources as it was. What of a new uniform? I understand your actual status is intentionally in dispute."

"Eighty-Sixth," Patrick stated.

Vaan's eyes narrowed, "as the only member on roster that would make you the Commander."

Patrick shook his head, "no. I'm still a student. There is no Commander."

Vaan had also been paying attention to Patrick's actions. Solos were known to never actually need assistance donning or removing their armor unless injured. Vaan had seen the Solo joust before. Watching the young man put on his armor added more pieces to the puzzle. His hand were sure and quick, without doubt that each piece was secure.

"I see. So a new uniform of the Eighty-Sixth Regiment. Very well," Vaan Arento said then turned to leave.

Patrick stopped him at the door by commenting, "sure you wouldn't have done better to be over encouraging him?"

Vaan smiled, "oh he's being encouraged plenty."

"Doucet," Patrick rolled his eyes. "That's fairly cruel Arento. Armor isn't comfortable to begin with. It can't be any better after her influence."

Vaan chuckled, "now now. Not even I would do that. Fiona is doing other things. There is a young lady trying to inspire Dante though. She would be more suitable than the Countess. In fact I heard he has been quite smitten with her for some time and that it just happens to be mutual."

Patrick nodded as the flamboyant prince left. Finally he took out his helmet and shield then closed the closet and went over to the stable. Daemon stood ready and waiting. The stable-hand held Patrick's shield and helmet while he mounted then handed them up. Patrick rode out of the stable heading to the arena. Patrick entered and was greeted by cheers from the others in the class. Lorenz Dante entered from the other side to be greeted as well. A girl had been walking beside him then after a quick word went back into the tunnel and stood just inside. Dante urged his horse forward, so Patrick did as well. They met in the center.

"I feel fit and ready to revisit Solo Fotens. However I would like to offer up something. Should you be the victor I'd like provide you a new uniform as a bonus of sorts," Dante said loudly.

Patrick nodded and replied loudly as well, "agreeable. You do look fit. I expect the best of you Dante as I see you have no need for care."

Dante settled into his saddle, "Oh I wouldn't dream of insulting you with anything less."

Both saluted each other then rode back. Assistants handed up shields and lances.

"Daemon. Battle," Patrick said.

The robotic horse went into its combat mode and would only be controlled by Patrick's feet and knees. Patrick moved over to his starting position then shifted to settle in his saddle. Dante appeared to do the same as an official moved to the center point and held the flag out. Patrick tightened his grip on the lance.

"GO," the official yelled lifting the flag and running clear.

Patrick's command set Daemon to lunge forward and take stride. At the other end Dante's horse broke from the standstill and raced toward the opposite side. Patrick was sitting square in his saddle holding the shield at a slight in and down angle. He aimed directly for just above dead center of Dante's shield. Both lances connected, Dante's snapping off and Patrick's shattered. Patrick was pushed to bend back but Dante was taken completely off to turn in mid-air and fall face down to the soft sand.

"OH!" the students in the stands exploded, along with several whistles and whoops.

Lorenz Dante grunted then began to move to stand. Applause and several shouted encouragements urged him up. He regained his feet and flipped up his visor. He raised his left arm to signal that he was fit to continue and the clapping and whistles grew. Dante remounted his horse and took the shield from the official and rode back, passing Fotens with a salute. They took their places after taking up new lances.

The small crowd were divided in their support. The louder support seemed to be in Lorenz Dante's favor though the support for Patrick Fotens wasn't silent. The Official checked both sides then took his own ready position again and the crowd softened their calls.

"GO," the official yelled and ran clear again.

Daemon went up on his hind legs and hopped once then launched himself to race forward. Dante's horse bolted forward into a dead run. Dante leaned forward into his saddle, but held his lance back to his side. They closed on each other at a fast clip. Patrick's lance made the first contact just down and left of center. He felt the shock of impact and flexed to hold it. Dante rammed his lance forward to slam just below center of Patrick's shield. Both lances shattered from the impact. Patrick twisted in his saddle to stay mounted as did Lorenz. It was all the Gentry could do to keep from being ripped from his position.

Again the crowd exclaimed. Both lances had shattered but neither rider was unhorsed. Points went to both. At the end of the lanes they flipped up their visors and trotted back. Lorenz rode with his broken lance held high prompting his supporters to cheer louder. The damaged lances were discarded. Dante drank from a bottle of water then took up a new lance and moved to his starting position. Patrick had already exchanged lances and sat ready. A few members of the crowd began to stomp and clap in tandem while some whistled as the official checked both then held the flag ready.

"GO," he yelled and ran clear.

Daemon launched himself forward and tore down the lane. Dante's horse lunged into a full run. The two raced for opposite ends. Lorenz sat leaning slightly back this time holding his lance just forward of his line aiming below and left of center of Patrick's shield. Patrick aimed dead-center and rode straight in the saddle. Just as they crossed; Daemon lunged for a longer stride, Patrick leaned forward and rammed his lance forward. Both lances shattered but Dante had tensed at Patrick's tactic and was pushed completely over. One thing that couldn't be argued, Dante knew how to hit the ground safely. He had twisted slightly at the last instant of leaving the saddle to land on his back, instead of face down.

"OOH!" The crowd exclaimed and immediately began to yell for him to recover. "UP! C'MON DANTE GET UP!"

Lorenz Dante struggled for a moment to breathe and shoved the visor up. The impact had knocked the wind out of him. Quickly he forced himself to cough and that broke the effect. Dante sucked in air loudly then rolled over and coughed again.

"Dante are you alright," the official asked after running over.

Lorenz nodded then coughed again before saying, "wind knocked out of me."

"Can you continue," the official asked.

Dante forced himself to his feet, "I am definitely FIT TO CONTINUE."

The stands cheered even louder. Many began to alternate stomping and clapping to encourage him. Lorenz leaned the broken lance against his horse and hung his shield on the side then climbed up. He took the lance first then shield and nodded to Patrick as they returned to starting positions. Dante drank deep of the water again then snapped his visor down and took the new lance.

The girl in the tunnel ran forward, "Lorenz! Are you sure? Really sure?"

Lorenz Dante nodded, "I'm good Nia."

Dante eased his horse away and took his starting position. The loud cheering, stomping and clapping suddenly stopped. The Official checked both sides as the arena became silent as a tomb. The flag was held ready.

"GO," the official yelled and ran clear.

Both horses lunged forward and ran the length of the lanes. Dante leaned forward in his saddle and angled his shield down slightly while tucking his lance to hold position tight. Patrick also leaned forward, shield angled inward and his lance held even with his line. As they drew close Patrick nudged Daemon who again lunged forward for a longer stride as the lances crossed. Dante's lance broke as it slid to the side. Patrick had thrust his lance forward as contact was made aiming low on the shield. The lance shattered as Lorenz was lifted out of the saddle and thrown back. The crowd held its breath watching as the Gentry practically flew backwards to land in the sand.

"LORENZ," the girl cried out and ran for the downed rider.

The official and Sir Belvin rushed out as well, along with the assistants for both sides. Patrick brought Daemon to a stop.

"Daemon. Ride," Patrick said, switching back to normal riding mode then dismounted.

Sir Belvin flipped up Dante's visor and looked, "he's out. Give me a capsule."

One of the assistants reached into a pouch and handed over a white tube-like thing. Sir Belvin snapped it at the middle and waved it under Dante's nose.

"C'mon Dante. Wake up," Sir Belvin said waving it back and forth.

A moment later Lorenz groaned and began to stir.

Sir Belvin nodded to the others then cautioned him, "easy there. Just relax. Are you hurt?"

"Ow. Fotens got me good. Didn't he," Lorenz asked.

Patrick had joined them and was looking down, "I did. Are you hurt?"

Dante gave him a lopsided grin, "I gave you all I had. I didn't hold back."

Patrick nodded, "I know. You didn't let me down. You want to get up or should I charge you for making your new girlfriend get clingy and caring?"

The girl glared at Patrick angrily but Lorenz Dante laughed.

"I think I should get up before I get accused of milking this," Dante grinned.

Patrick offered his hand and the Gentry took it and together they got him to his feet. The stands cheered as they saluted each other.

"I know a great place in town. I'll talk to the tailor tomorrow," Dante said.

"Save for the weekend. Have her look after you for a while first," Patrick said, turned away and took a few steps then stopped. "I'm satisfied Dante."

Lorenz Dante nodded and let his girlfriend escort him away as Patrick went over to Daemon and collected his shield.

"Daemon. Follow," Patrick ordered.

The robotic horse followed dutifully and entered the tunnel. At the middle a figure lounged against the wall.

"Nicely done," Jeffries Talfar said with a cold smile. "Quite the favor. Weeding out the Lessers before Tournament selection."

Patrick stepped closer, "favor."

The future Duke chuckled. Patrick's fist moved like lightening and slammed into Talfar's gut, making him double over and vomit then collapse.

The Solo grabbed the noble and yanked him back to his feet and rammed him back to the wall hard enough to daze him before letting him fall to the ground again.

"So you're saying that I performed a favor for you," Patrick asked blandly as he advanced again.

Jeffries Talfar began to crawl away trying to wave him off, "n-no. No. No favor! N-never say anything again!"

Patrick practically towered over the obnoxious noble. A bit of power slipped. Talfar's mind was invaded with the image of himself having his helmet ripped off by a lance and his face scarred. Patrick seized back the the power and left the cowering Talfar's mind.

"You think too highly of yourself Talfar. I could change that. You implied personal involvement. Maybe we should be. PERSONALLY involved," Patrick growled.

Talfar scooted back towards the arena end of the tunnel shaking his head, "No Fotens! No! I didn't mean it! I was just mouthing off about that being a favor!"

They had re-entered the arena. Unfortunately for the future duke, there were still a lot of people milling about in the stands talking about the match. They turned to see what was happening.

"No Solo Fotens I was just mouthing off! I didn't mean to say that I considered defeating Dante a favor! I was just running my mouth off," Talfar protested.

Patrick stayed on the advance, "No Talfar. You said I gave you quite a favor for weeding out a lesser before Tournament selection. The problem with that is; I am a Solo. I don't do favors. You're claiming I did one for you. That is a problem Talfar. A big problem."

"I DIDN'T MEAN IT! I WAS JUST MOUTHING OFF," Jeffries Talfar pleaded.

He then noticed where he was and people could see. They could see and now knew he had crossed the line. The big problem for him now, was that the angry Solo wasn't backing down. What happened in the tunnel hadn't been seen. Or so he thought until Fiona Doucet and Vaan Arento stepped out into the arena from the same tunnel. He had no doubt they had heard and seen everything.

Sir Belvin called out, "is this a challenge issue?"

"No," Patrick answered stalking closer to Talfar. "I'm just going to tear his face off. That will satisfy my PERSONAL involvement."

Talfar scrambled to his feet finally and ran, but not before those that had stayed saw that his usually immaculate uniform was soiled with dirt, sand and his own vomit.

Patrick made to go after him but was stopped by Sir Belvin.

"That's enough Solo. Do not pursue him," Sir Belvin ordered.

Fiona and Vaan had joined them.

"Please Solo Fotens. Let us deal with this. I assure you it shall be resolved to satisfaction," Fiona stated then went after Talfar.

Patrick glared, "he said Favor."

Vaan Arento said quietly, "please let Fiona deal with Jeffries Talfar. If she does what I think she will, not only will you be satisfied; you'll be amused. I swear to you Solo Fotens, this will not go without retribution. In fact if Fiona does not offer to pay you to claim the offense I will. Please state a price."

Patrick regarded the royal. It was very rare that Vaan Arento put aside being a fop to be actually serious. This was one of those times.

"Three hundred and you own him," Patrick said flatly.

Vaan nodded, "You'll have it by mid-day tomorrow."

Patrick turned and walked away.

Vaan sighed in relief, "that was close."

"You're not kidding. I was beginning to think Fotens wasn't going to stop or at least listen to reason," Sir Belvin remarked.

"Fiona and I saw Talfar skulking about and thought it best if we were close by. We were right. In the tunnel he said that he considered it great favor that Solo Fotens defeated Dante. He called it 'weeding out the Lessers before Tournament selection'. That's what enraged Solo Fotens, remarking that it was a favor to Talfar. Solo Fotens actually is within his right as Talfar crossed a very serious line," Prince Vaan informed the jousting instructor.

Sir Belvin grew angry, "DAMN! I have to go to Headmaster with this Prince Arento. Inform the Countess she is to bring Jeffries Talfar to the Headmaster's office immediately!"

Both left the arena.

The Headmaster shook his head, "This could get further out of hand than it already is Ren."

Ren Belvin nodded, "very and it is within Solos' rights to take action. Prince Arento made a purchase offer for Talfar's punishment from Solo Fotens. I have the feeling that Solo Fotens didn't really want to agree to it. The prince more than likely has the money and would pay but that gives him a superior position. I strongly advise you to get ahead of this, FAST!"

A moment later there was a knock on the door.

"Come," the Headmaster called out.

The door opened and in walked Countess Fiona Doucet. Behind her were two members of the student council pulling Jeffries Talfar between them roughly as Prince Vaan Arento calmly followed the procession.

The Headmaster nodded, "the subjects of our conversation."

"Take your hands off me," Talfar protested and struggled for release.

"The two of you may go. Thank you," The Headmaster instructed the two young men who promptly turned and left.

Talfar glared, "when my father hears about THIS!"

The Headmaster stood up quickly, "SILENCE!"

He walked out from behind his desk, "Prince Arento. I understand you negotiated the purchase of Jeffries Talfar's punishment from Solo Patrick Fotens. Correct?"

Vaan smiled charmingly, "indeed I did. Not my usual financial pursuit, but one I can find quite interesting for a while."

"It is the view of the Academy that the purchase should be made by us instead. Punishment will be met through the Student council but only after approval by myself. Sir Belvin. Should Solo Fotens still be on the grounds inform him of this and to see me first thing in the morning to collect his fee and submit a ticket," the Headmaster stated.

Vaan frowned but nodded, "very well Headmaster."

The Prince then leered at the future Duke, "such a pity. I was already starting to think of some rather AMUSING things for you Jeffries."

Talfar glared at the Prince. Had they been anywhere but the Headmaster's office, he would have showed more defiance. As it was though, he could do nothing. To defy the Headmaster would be grounds for expulsion and denial to be re-admitted. Talfar also knew that even with the influence his father had, there was no disputing the authority of the Academy's Headmaster. If he even protested then his father would get involved and he would face more than just the punishment.

To the Talfar family Solos were disposable weaponry. Use them then discard. Solos paid well never created problems, they solved them. A future Duke that insulted Solos would be a problem. A problem that the Solos would solve and charge heavily for. With that in mind, Jeffries Talfar kept his mouth shut.

"Well Countess. What do you have in mind," the Headmaster asked.

Fiona walked over and whispered into his ear then stepped back smiling.

"That's rather dramatic. It can be argued," the Headmaster countered.

Fiona shook her head and produced a small recorder. She activated it and the entire exchange between Talfar and Fotens could be heard clearly. That eliminated any and all doubt of Talfar's guilt. He knew his choices; accept whatever punishment the Academy doled out or face a Solo's fury. If he took the first there was the off chance his father would not be made aware. If he faced Fotens then its was a sure thing his father would be made aware when he received the ticket; for more than what had been negotiated to Arento. One thing Talfar did know for certain, the regiment Patrick Fotens had come from had a solid reputation. A negative report from such a regiment would affect the Talfars' abilities, especially his, to hire Solos in the future. Without Solos the family's army would have to fight for themselves. That was not they way they fought. Why risk their own men when hired fighters were available?

The Headmaster could see that Fiona was dead-set on her idea, "Talfar return to your dorm and report my office first thing in the morning. Go. Countess stay behind."

Jeffries Talfar left. Outside all heads were turning to watch him. Word had spread fast. Now he knew how that brat Jessica had felt somewhat. In truth, he had done worse. It was evident when he reached the main corridor. It was full and students moved to the walls to glare with disapproval as he approached. Basically he was taking a walk of shame.

In the office the Headmaster sat down behind his desk, "you could be going too far Countess to want this."

"Contact the Duke Talfar. He will not refuse if I issue the punishment and charges," Fiona said coldly.

Slowly the Headmaster reached and put through the call. It was answered immediately and within minutes the Duke came onto the line.

"Duke Talfar. Apologies for interrupting you," Fiona said.

Duke Talfar asked, "Countess Doucet? Fiona? This is a surprise. I thought the Headmaster was calling."

Fiona cleared her throat, "he placed the call. There is a problem with your son Duke Talfar."

"Oh my. This is in your official capacity as the Head of Student Council. Very well Countess. What has he done," Duke Talfar asked.

Fiona spoke clearly and carefully, "after a contest between a Solo and a Gentry that was a revisit due to injury. Your son said to the Solo that he considered the defeat of the Gentry a favor. As he put it; weeding out the Lessers before Tournament selection. Naturally the Solo has taken offense for the allegation. This Solo is the only remaining member of the Eighty-Sixth regiment."

Duke Talfar sighed, "the Eighty-Sixth. Impeccable record for that regiment. The fact that only one remains speaks volumes to me Countess. It sounds like a Solo not to be taken lightly."

"Indeed. Very professional. Duke Talfar there is no doubt at all as your son's actions. Two witnesses and a record. I have to inform you that one of those witnesses is myself," Fiona admitted.

"I see. Jeffries has done things up completely I gather. What are the options," Duke Talfar said tightly.

Fiona and the Headmaster both could tell he was doing all he could not to lose his temper.

"The Solo will allow the Academy to administer a punishment for a penalty fee of three hundred coins. The punishment would involve a degree of humiliation," Fiona stated.

Duke Talfar ground out, "very well. So be it. I will reimburse the penalty fee. Do as you see fit Countess. Good day."

The call was disconnected.

The Headmaster shook his head, "he didn't even ask what you had in store."

Fiona shook her head, "it doesn't matter to him. The Talfars can't afford a respected Solo speaking against them. No matter what I do to Jeffries Talfar, his father will do much worse later on."

Fiona Doucet turned and walked out, closing the door behind her.

"One day Countess; you may actually go too far. I have the feeling though that you would still be justified. Humility goes a long way. Must you go so far as to use humiliation to teach it," the Headmaster mused in the now empty room.
 
 
 
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Chapter 10 of     The Nightmare Rider

Phoebe was sitting on her throne. Her eyes were closed. Daalumos stood waiting patiently. He knew she was searching for something. When her eyes snapped open, he stamped his feet in joy.

"You've found something for us to get into," the Lust said trying not to laugh.

Phoebe took up her sword and climbed onto his back, "I have. Go Daalumos. Follow my feelings."

The bound demon bolted for the archway and ran out into the night. In and out of shadows he ran, leaving behind his hoof prints flickering in flames. Soon they crest a low ridge. Down below, the two could see armies gathering. Phoebe nudged Daalumos with her heel and he lunged forward. They rode down the side and broke for the advancing sides. The BloodLust could feel their muderous intent and it fed him. Phoebe had felt the fear and anticipation. The two opposing sides clashed as Phoebe and Daalumos swept in. The fear immediately spiked. Daalumos jumped and stamped, shrieking with glee and he fed the rage back which came back to him even stronger. Phoebe was doing the same, already many had succumbed and simply lay on the ground; crippled by the visions of terror that filled their minds so much, they believed were real. Together they ended up culling a group and worked it until a loud battle cry caught their attention.

"Someone is IMPORTANT my Mistress," Daalumos laughed.

Phoebe snarled back, "yes they ARE! GO!"

Both had felt it. Divinity. The touch of Godly power. They knew it wasn't a God, it was a Demi-God. The child of a God or Goddess. Their power was strong though. Suddenly there was a parting. Phoebe and Daalumos could see their next opponent. A middle-aged man began to bear down on them. He wore no helm and carried no shield, but it was the sword that caught her attention. It was a Divine weapon, most likely a gift.

It was very common for Demi-Gods to be estranged from their parent that bestowed Divinity. The God or Goddess usually presented them with gifts that were suited to need or disposition. Many acquainted with those individuals were of the mind that such gifts were an attempt to excuse the absence. The more cynical believed the gifts were more of a show to justify worship. That was the thing, the cynics were right in most of the cases. Especially in the cases of those pertaining to violence of some kind.

The two drew even and slashed at each other. His sword sent sparks flying as it struck against Phoebe's. The surprise on his face betrayed him. The weapon was indeed Divine. Daalumos edged back. He wore no armor to protect him from such weapons like Phoebe did. Very few weapons were actually able to get past her Styxion armor. A slash from her Vulcan sword dropped the robotic horse he rode and she pitched herself off to battle him head to head.

"I've heard of a rider. I had no idea you would be so PATHETIC," He roared and charged at her.

Phoebe just smirked as she parried the blow using the sword one-handed. She then lunged forward and using a two-handed grip she slashed. Deliberately she went slowly so that he would bring up his guard. The swords clashed and the Demi-God now understood he wasn't fighting a mortal woman.

Phoebe smiled coldly, "oh no. Not that look of horror-struck surprise Demi-God. I am FAR from being done this night!"

The Demi-God stepped back. Here was someone that actually knew what he was and looked unconcerned about the prospect.

"RUDIANOS," he yelled to the night sky. "FATHER!"

The battle had practically stopped. Both sides looked on in awe. Never before had an admitted Demi-God called out for help. A moment later the silence was shattered by Phoebe's laugh.

"Shall we all take a moment? Sacrifice something, erect a temple? Perhaps you should call out louder," Phoebe suggested.

There was no humor, either with her laughter or statement. He was a Demi-God. The mortality in him blocked the ability to detect Divinity. The fact that she could tell what he was spoke volumes. More like screamed volumes. Was her ability to detect Divinity part of her own as a Demi-Goddess or was she more than that? A minor Goddess? He had no clue as she had not revealed her name to him.

He felt a tremor of dread when she began walking toward him. Suddenly everyone that had formed a large circle around them immediately scurried back in fear. Each man had a look of sheer horror on his face. The same look became mirrored on his own when the woman stepped into a shadow only to come out of another to the side. Several times she did this, moving ever closer to him. The burning horse reared up on its hind legs and let out an almost mind-numbing shriek.

He knew he would have to fight her. He began to hope that if he fought her, she wouldn't toy with his death. With a loud yell he charged her. Her swing was faster causing his sword to almost flick to the side, harmlessly away from her. She then held him at bay from the tip of the blade, enticing him to try again. Enraged he swung repeatedly only to have each blow scrape her blade and slide away. With a flick of her wrist, the sword slipped past and cut along the arm of his left arm. The armor melted from the contact and the skin along his arm blistered and burned around the shallow slice.

"BITCH," he screamed but she was bearing down on him.

A quick thrust and his right thigh suffered as his arm causing him to curse in pain. Another thrust that was faster than his attempt to block slipped past. The Vulcan sword plunged through his middle, half piercing and half melting. Slowly he sank to his knees as the sword withdrew. He felt around the wound and looked at the blood on his hands then with an animal like whimper, slowly fell to the ground.

Around her, Phoebe felt the fear climb to an even higher level. She had felled a Demi-God in front of them all.

"I have taken the Demi-God! I am the Nightmare Rider! Know my name in terror. I AM PHOEBE," Phoebe announced.

The dark glow around her had become almost tangible. Everyone that had seen that night willing to speak of it would tell of a woman with unearthly beauty that was so fear inspiring, even a Demi-God's father had forsaken him in battle against her. After the armies had quit the field, she searched around for coins. She had found quite the cache in an abandoned horse's saddlebags. She took the saddlebags and left. Daalumos had gotten quite his fill of the murderous intent before they through the battle into chaos. The power they had acquired would stay with them for quite some time.

Daalumos laughed as they entered their home, "your name will be spoken in fear for some time. Every time the tale is told it will be homage to us. That was very clever."

Phoebe slid off his back and began to remove her armor, "yes."

"Killing the Demi-God disturbed you," the BloodLust asked.

"Hardly. It was an act of mercy. Demi-Gods are nothing more than propaganda devices. Its disgusting. Children between Divine beings are threats, Demi-Gods and Goddesses are nothing more than advertising tools. I did the half-mortal a favor," Phoebe said angrily as she went to shower before settling into the bath.

Daalumos followed her, "so your father cast you out not for you to learn war on your own?"

Phoebe leaned her head back to rest on the side of the bath, "of course not. I am a threat to him, just as I am to my mother. No court in the Underworld will welcome me. The Heavenly Gods and Goddesses at least provide their offspring something to start them off unless they are kept in servitude. I serve no one. Only myself."

The bound demon understood she no longer wanted to discuss the matter. He went back out to the hall and began to rethink what he thought he knew. He did know that many divine offspring of the Underworld were cast out on their own. Most because they caused problems in the courts. The daughters were usually kept though. Mainly for decoration, but sometimes for entertainment. None of that mattered to Daalumos personally. His kind could not do such a thing. He had come into being well over a millennium ago. He would exist for as long as he found sustenance. Unless struck down by an instrument of Divinity. A weapon made by a God or Goddess could end him. Like Phoebe's sword.

Demons consumed, that was fact. The Lusts only consumed what they were. In Daalumos' case, he consumed murderous intent. He was a BloodLust. Until entering Phoebe's service he was bored when he wasn't close to a battlefield. Currently he was satisfied. He had encountered many beings in the Underworld. None held his attention the way Phoebe did. She was a constant source of amusement and confusion. He decided now would be a good time to sleep and did so.

The Academy was buzzing once again. This time there was much snickering and giggling with it. After all, it wasn't everyday that a future Duke was seen wearing a maid's outfit and performing such demeaning duties as sweeping and mopping floors, serving tables and cleaning them. The catch was, it wasn't an official maid's uniform. It was a costume for playing a maid. The skirt was MUCH shorter and the neckline more revealing.

The morning had started with Jeffries Talfar reporting to the Headmaster's office. Fiona Doucet handed him the outfit, complete with lingerie and shoes.

"Get changed. You have a lot of work to do today," Fiona stated firmly without any humor.

Several long minutes later he returned from the restroom in the outfit trying very hard to conceal his anger, and failing at it. Within five minutes the first wolf whistle sounded and it continued from there. It wasn't long and Talfar was dodging a third pinch of the rear-end. Serving the tables prompted even more lurid attention. Not from the boys, it was the girls.

Many of them remarked using some of the very same comments he had used on various young women that were service oriented and more than a few underclass girls. His big shock came, though it shouldn't have been such a surprise, when a hand snaked under the skirt and gently but firmly cupped his bottom.

"My! Don't you look simply delectable," Prince Vaan Arento oozed. "A marvelously wonderful morning to you Ladies!"

The table of first year girls grinned and giggled, "good morning your Highness!"

Vaan smiled to them but did not remove his hand, "isn't it just delightful to have such CHARMING service?"

The girls giggled and Vaan crowded Talfar closer and began to softly squeeze, "not to worry about your first day on the job. I'll be MORE than happy to look after you my DEAR."

Talfar snatched up the tray from the table and rushed off.

"Aww. Shy little thing. I shall simply have to do all I can to bring her out of her shell! Please do excuse me ladies," the flamboyant Prince said with a wink then followed the mortified future Duke. "MUFFIN? OH DARLING?"

The entire Dining Hall knew what he was up to and did their best not to roar with laughter, though many had to lay their heads down to muffle themselves. Even the instructors had to hide their faces behind their hands or napkins. The Headmaster tried to hard to maintain his own composure. It was a sure thing that today would be forever engraved in Academy history.

Complaints regarding Jeffries Talfar had been coming in since his second week at the Academy. First the maids, then the Gentry girls followed by lower Nobles. It wasn't long and the complaints started coming from the towns as well about his behavior. Off Academy grounds his title carried weight. On the grounds, there were no witnesses or evidence other than just the complaint. Until now. Crossing a Solo was different. They had no agenda. Solos had to be provoked in very specific ways. Talfar knew that. The big question was; why had he been so stupid as to do exactly that?

Most of the buzzing stopped and eyes were cast to the doorway. Patrick Fotens was entering. As usual he paid no mind to the collective and simply went over to an empty table and sat down to read notices. The notices came from one of the registry offices and from the Academy's office as well. Not many knew what they were. The Headmaster and instructors did. The notices were of the latest unit listings, locations and activities. Goods and services used predominantly by Solos. Events to update information or other workshops pertaining to business. Within certain notices were carefully disguised social events as well. Only Solos of greater than a year of experience knew how to understand those and decipher the instructions.

Tables began to be cleared of dishes as first and second year students frantically completed written assignments. Almost ten minutes later the Third and Fourth years began to leave casually. The bells chimed, causing the underclass to loudly exit. Wolf whistles and catcalls began going out in the corridor.

Jeffries Talfar had been sweeping the the corridor after being practically chased from the dining hall by Prince Vaan Arento. He had been blanking his mind against the fact of his apparel, but that was shattered when the bells chimed and the corridor filled with students. Many of whom began to grab, pinch and swat at his backside. Some of the girls were trying to flip the skirt of the dress. Most passing by made some lurid comment. In short; he was being subjected to the same treatment he had made others suffer, for the past four years.

When the corridor emptied Fiona Doucet finally strolled by.

"You're enjoying watching them do all of that to me. Aren't you," Talfar asked the Countess sarcastically.

Fiona turned around and stepped back over to him, "have you seen me smiling?"

The future Duke remarked, "not with your mouth."

"Not at all. That little outfit is nothing. One girl had once said she'd like to see you done up in a Brothel-girl's outfit. I strongly considered doing that. The day isn't over," Fiona remarked as she turned away to leave. "No one told you to stop working."

Talfar wanted to argue with her, but held his mouth closed and went back to sweeping. The idea of dressing as a Brothel-girl was not appealing at all. He had thrown around the comment of a girl being better suited to be one so many times, trying to figure out who suggested it was useless. He had only paid a price for it once prior. The twelve year old daughter of a High Noble. The girl was standing outside a stable while her father was inside having an adjustment being made to his horse.

Not even two minutes after the words left his mouth he found himself on the ground from being punched. What was worse was the Noble recognized him and knew his father. Duke Talfar had been furious to hear of whom he had insulted. It ended up costing him an ally and business deal as well. Jeffries had not been punished for what he did, only for whom he did it to. What was worse was the girl had been who a marriage negotiation with him had been with. Now there was last minute rushed negotiation with the Doucet family. In the end Fiona had established the terms and no matter what, Talfar interests were of the lesser. Jeffries didn't care about that. That was his father's and her father's doing. Personally all he cared about was the house he would have out of their sight for the girls he would start collecting to service his needs.

"Solo Fotens," the Headmaster called out.

Talfar glared as he swept, watching Patrick Fotens meet the Headmaster.

"Headmaster," Patrick greeted him.

The Headmaster said to him, "there was a misunderstanding yesterday afternoon. Your payment has been delayed until this afternoon."

"I was told midday," Patrick replied.

"Ah yes. That was what Prince Arento told you before being bought out. The Academy will be paying you instead and I was supposed to have it first thing this morning. Unfortunately for me there was a mistake and the payment has not become available yet. Since that happened a delay penalty applies and will be included in your payment this afternoon," the Headmaster informed him.

Patrick gave a half shrug, "an hour or two from the original time wouldn't constitute penalty."

"True, but I had stated for the record a new time which is much earlier. Over half the day would constitute a penalty, which of course will be paid. The Academy will always be above-board," the Headmaster stated.

Patrick regarded him for a long moment then nodded, "acceptable."

The Headmaster watched the young Solo walk away and resisted the urge to shake his head, "that young man took to the way entirely too easy. If he makes it to retirement, he'll go insane a day later."

Jessica Weyden, Lamia Tuala and Aruna Monning sat on a bench in the courtyard during the afternoon break. Not far away they could see Jeffries Talfar, still in the costume, sweeping off the walkway.

"I was talking to a Fourth year. She said that had it been anybody else Countess Fiona wouldn't have done that. It would have been going too far. So said, she did this to him because of a personal reason of her own," Aruna said in a low voice.

"SH," Lamia shushed quietly then spoke up. "Afternoon Countess."

Fiona nodded to them, "afternoon ladies, Highness."

"Things seem to be going well enough," Jessica remarked.

Unless speaking softly or whispering they knew that Talfar could hear them.

Fiona regarded the future Duke, "about as well as can be expected. There IS room for improvement of course."

Aruna asked gently, "Countess, are you sure that such is warranted? There may be argument of going out of the way."

"What be the measure of a man? To what standard shall he be held? There must of course be one who did set such standard for others to be held to. Verily there must be exceptions to that standard of man; lest there be no men who are exceptional," Fiona said the last part looking at Patrick Fotens across the way.

All three girls looked over and saw him too. Jessica was the first to stand up.

"Point eloquently made Countess. We'll leave you to your; business," Jessica said with a nod and left, followed by her two friends.

The moment was broken by Talfar's quiet snarl, "if only our fathers weren't acquainted."

Fiona turned around and walked over to him with a blank expression, "give thanks that they are. Otherwise I would not have intervened and you would currently be residing in the infirmary. There are those that view this as me taking mercy on you."

"Mercy," Jeffries scoffed.

Fiona began to walk away, "its true. I AM showing you mercy. And it would be unwise to make me rethink it."

Talfar wanted to say and do many things at that moment. However, he did not. The whistles and cat-calls hadn't stopped. By the time the kitchen had shut down for the night Talfar looked haggard and the stockings looked as if he had walked through a field of unkempt rose bushes. In the High Nobles' lounge, his entrance was noticed with silence. Heads that had turned to see who had entered quickly turned away. Talfar wanted to scream and throw things but figured that if he did Fiona would take immediate action, even though she was not in the room. Instead he simply went upstairs to his dorm room.

Phoebe sat on her throne. Battles had been searched for with no results. Both she and Daalumos had become accustomed to this. Sometimes there were so many battles raging they could barely keep track and other times nothing would happen for almost a month. They had enjoyed the evening's prayers from the Malzeek household and noticed that more had participated, making it stronger and more potent.

"Mistress," Daalumos called to catch her attention.

Phoebe's eyes had opened already, "yes. I felt it too. A God is approaching."

A moment later a lone male in battle garb entered through the darkened archway.

"Are you She," he asked.

Phoebe regarded him then answered, "I am Phoebe. The Nightmare Rider."

He nodded to her, "I am Rudianos. You felled my son."

"Do not insult me with a false display of paternal obligation. He was a tool to you. Nothing more than homage to yourself," Phoebe scoffed.

The War God glared at her, "you slight me girl. I would have you for less."

She had already been wearing her armor so simply took up her sword, "you could not lay claim to me on your best of days. Dare you to challenge me?"

Rudianos nodded, "of course. On the next moonrise. It would be pointless to make you fall if no one witnessed."

"Very well then. A duel of course between you and I. Following to the victor. Since you have named the time, I shall determine the place," Phoebe stated.

"Do so and find your doom there. I will take you, your following and your body's pleasures," Rudianos declared.

Phoebe laughed as she confronted him, "I will have your following, your wealth and your head."

"Thus is our duel pact," Rudianos declared.

Phoebe generated an image in the air of the place. Rudianos studied it then nodded and left. When his presence was no longer felt Daalumos laughed.

"You will face him on your consecrated ground. This should be interesting to say the least. Its been so long since you faced a God or Goddess," Daalumos remarked.

Phoebe sat back down, "it matters not. He will fall to my sword."

The BloodLust chuckled, "such unshakable confidence. I think it may be infectious."

"That shall be a vote in my favor then. Now to gather the others," Phoebe commented and closed her eyes.

Daalumos knew what she was about to do and laughed.

She reached out to all connected to her and filled their minds with her image and voice.

" The faithful must gather upon my consecrated battleground. There I will remove any doubt of my power as your Goddess," Phoebe projected. She felt the presence of a witch nearby and could tell she knew of her. " Hear me witch. You have told other mortals of me. It is time you saw for yourself. Come to the appointed place for the battle."

That said she left their minds then eased into sleep.

Jessica sat at the breakfast table with four other princesses. She had already finished her meal and was drinking juice while helping two first year princesses with a question from class they didn't understand.

"Your Highness," the Headmaster interrupted.

Jessica stood up, "yes Headmaster?"

She noticed Lamia and Aruna standing close by and fidgeting.

"For some reason there are two women at the main door seeking your Highness, Duchess Monning and Lady Tuala. Follow me please," the Headmaster stated then led them out.

Moments later they reached the main entrance. Standing inside was the woman from the pastry shop and the old woman that had told them of the Nightmare Rider.

The shop owner curtsied, "I apologize my Ladies. She insisted she must see you immediately."

Jessica nodded to her with a smile then gently took the old woman's hands in her own, "Madam what is so important for you to come see us? Are you in distress of some kind?"

The crone smiled, "a different girl is before me than the one I told of the Nightmare Rider. Your heart has changed. I was visited by the Rider during the night. She commands us to gather as witnesses. The journey is far. I can not go there on my own."

Jessica was stunned. The old witch wanted to be taken to see the Nightmare Rider? She looked over to Aruna and Lamia. Lamia looked uncomfortable but the young Duchess looked excited.

"The Nightmare Rider is frightening. Are you certain that you should go to this place," Jessica asked.

The crone chuckled to the princess, "girl; one thing you should never do, is refuse the invitation when One such as Her does so personally! I expect quite the sight to see. A battle between a War God and the Nightmare Rider."

Jessica had to admit to herself, she had never seen such a thing before and the chance may never come again.

"Princess Weyden," the Headmaster spoke up. "If you and your friends go it would not be an excusable absence. I will not stop you though."

Jessica looked over at the two, "Lamia if you don't want to go, you don't have to. Aruna I know you do. I'll admit, this is a prospect I don't think should be passed over lightly. Madam I will escort you there. I will meet you at the main gate in a few minutes."

Duchess Aruna Monning smiled, "I will DEFINITELY be going along!"

The pastry shop owner nodded, "then I leave her in your care my Ladies. I'll walk back and leave her my horse."

The Headmaster nodded, "I'll see you both out."

Jessica turned to her friends, "Armor and arms. Meet at the gate in fifteen minutes. I need to talk to the Solos."

Fifteen minutes later the three girls rode up to the gate and met the old woman again. All three were in their armor with battle swords, carrying shields and lances.

"Apologies for the delay Madam. I thought it best to purchase information from the Solos. I've been allowed to rent a map from one. Please tell me where we need to go," Jessica asked.

The location was named. Jessica plotted a way and found that though it would normally take over a full day, there was a course that would get them there faster if they left immediately. They set up with Jessica in the lead. She had the old witch ride between Lamia and Aruna.

"Highness. Is this what it was like when you went on that assignment with Solo Fotens," Aruna giggled.

Jessica looked back and laughed, "in some ways. I will say though, I feel much more comfortable in my own armor!"

Jessica had chosen a very difficult route but it was much shorter. Other routes would have been easier to travel but they would have been punishing to the elderly woman. Not that their current route was easy, but it wasn't constantly brutal to her old body. Jessica used all the knowledge she had acquired on the trip with Patrick. It paid off. They were able to arrive just as the sun was setting. Many people had gathered already. One group stood out from the assembling crowd. They were flying twin banners.

"We must go over that way. I feel a touch of the Rider's power," the old woman told them.

They eased over to the group. Sitting atop a black horse with red markings was a little girl. She wore a black silk dress trimmed in red as well and a black cloak. Hanging at the horse's shoulder was a shield.

"Goddess Phoebe will win. She never loses," the little girl said to a young man that had bowed to her.

"Of course Mistress Sania. Your faith, as her WarPriestess, is strong. The Goddess will win," the young man smiled up to her.

Jessica asked, "Phoebe?"

Sania heard her, "our Goddess. Goddess Phoebe, the Nightmare Rider. I'm Sania her WarPriestess. Who are you?"

"I am Her Royal Highness Jessica Weyden, Princess of Lurbourg. With me are The Duchess Aruna Monning and Lady Lamia Tuala. We are escort to this Elder," Jessica smiled. "Hello WarPriestess Sania."

"Mama. How do I curtsy if I'm still on Lamudos," Sania asked a woman beside her.

The woman took note of Jessica's wink and smiled, "I think she would know best sweetheart. You should ask her very politely."

"Princess. How should I greet you the right way," Sania asked.

Jessica smiled to the child, "when you get bigger and can get up and down all by yourself it would be nice of you got down and curtsied. But for now what you can do is put your hand over your heart, bow and greet me by saying 'Your Highness'. Since you're a WarPriestess that's what a knight would do."

The little girl did so then smiled and turned to her mother, "I learned something new!"

"Very good," Celia reassured her then turned to Jessica. "Thank you Highness. I am curious as to why you're here. Do you follow Goddess Phoebe?"

"I'm here more out of curiosity. I was also asked personally, along with my friends, to escort an Elder from one of the towns close to the Academy," Jessica stated.

"You go to the Academy? The one that teaches how to be a knight? I'm going to go! Goddess Phoebe made sure," Sania said proudly.

Aruna Monning smiled, "we'll have graduated by that time but we'll probably hear about you. I'm Duchess Aruna Monning."

"I'm Lady Lamia Tuala. Pleased to meet you," Lamia said and smiled too.

Several people began to call out from across the field. A lone man stood in armor. Immediately chanting began.

"RUDIANOS! RUDIANOS! RUDIANOS! RUDIANOS!"

Sania's eyes closed then she quickly turned around and called out, "SHE'S COMING!"

The crowd parted as an unearthly shriek split the night, drowning out the chant. They all edged back as what appeared to be a carpet of darkness stretched back and a demon horse raced the length of it leaving a trail of burning hoof prints.

"The Nightmare Rider has come," crowed the old witch.

Phoebe and Daalumos tore past them all and erupted into the center of the field. She leaped from the BloodLust's back to land on her feet and charge the War-God drawing her sword. Rudianos drew his own sword and moved to meet her attack with a battle cry.

"THIS NIGHT WILL MARK YOUR END," Phoebe yelled as their swords clashed.

The Vulcan sword melted through the end of Rudianos' sword. He swung his shield up to block and a deep gouge marked the face of it. Phoebe stayed on the attack. In the crowd Sania carefully cut her left hand and let the blood drip to the ground.

"I give of myself to Her. I give my prayers to Her. I serve She who is my Goddess. I claim Her forever; Phoebe of Nightmares," Sania said squeezing her eyes tightly closed as she prayed.

Rudianos had no idea that he had been tricked so easily. The War-God had his followers on the opposite side of the field. Phoebe's bold attack on him, and previously killing the Demi-God had already planted fear. Her actions now fanned the spark of fear into flames of terror. Terror that she consumed and became even stronger, along with the prayers from her own followers and WarPriestess. The fact that the ground had been consecrated to her increased that. What was worse, Phoebe was using a mixture of two fighting styles. Techniques from the Underworld battles she had usurped and Mortal battles she had participated in.

Rudianos went quickly from defensive to disadvantaged in mere seconds. The more he defended, the more his shield suffered and would soon be destroyed. When he tried to attack, his sword was being taken away inch by inch. Another slash and his shield failed and burst into what looked like dust that faded away. Quickly Rudianos pulled out a war hammer and tried to attack with it only for it to burst apart with one slash. Phoebe was practically chasing him now as he tried to parry her attacks. Finally all he had left of the sword was the hilt which she slapped from his hand, scorching through the gauntlet.

The War-God dropped the useless sword remains and watched as she rammed the point of her sword through it then advanced again. Two arcing slashes and the breastplate of his armor shattered and he fell to his knees. His followers cried out in horror. Horror that only lent her more power as she swung her sword once more and the War-God Rudianos burst apart. She had broken his Divinity. To all his followers, she killed him. They all fell to their own knees and began pleading for mercy. Their fear spiked even higher now and flowed into her without any need to circulate it. It was raw and powerful. From the other side she was feeling the refined power of worship flowing into her, as did Daalumos.

"SERVE, OR FEAR ME," Phoebe called out.

The crowd scattered away in fear. Phoebe turned and walked back toward the crowd of her own followers to their cheers. Many kneeled before her as other bowed or curtsied. Even Jessica Weyden curtsied to her. Phoebe was not her Goddess, but that didn't mean she should not show respect to the Goddess.

Sania had been helped off her horse and rushed forward, "I knew you would win Goddess! I knew!"

"Of course you knew little one. One day, you too, will be victorious in battle," Phoebe stated loudly.

Daalumos had walked over and was regarding Sania's robotic horse.

"Good likeness little priestess. I am pleased," Daalumos said with a chuckle.

Sir Aldo steeped forward, "this young scribe here can also draw. He sketched your likeness as best he could so that the stable-mechanic would be able to attempt this. We hope you accept this as an honor to you and approve."

Many edged back and the BloodLust circled around, "hmm. This may be as close as can be. Mortal, I approve of this steed to carry the priestess."

"Thank you Demon," Sir Aldo bowed to the BloodLust.

Phoebe looked to the witch, "you have seen for yourself now."

The old woman nodded, "I have. You are indeed a Goddess as the spirits have told me. Your tale grows every day, Goddess Phoebe; the Nightmare Rider."

"Goddess. Since I will go to the Academy, shouldn't there be a place for me to pray there. Its far from home isn't it," Sania asked.

The old witch nodded, "you are her priestess. Only you may consecrate a place in her name child."

Jessica spoke up, "we are returning to the Academy. You and your family may ride with us. We will leave at first light."

"May we," Sania asked Tam Malzeek.

Tam nodded, "thank you Highness for the kind invitation. In return; you, your Ladies and Elder please be guests in our camp for the night."

They turned to see Phoebe settling herself on Daalumos' back.

"FAREWELL," Phoebe called out as Daalumos reared up then disappeared in a rush of flames.

The crowd slowly dispersed to the camps or return home. The new day would come soon.
 
 
 
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Chapter 11 of     The Nightmare Rider

Patrick sat at an empty table reading notices. Everyone else was talking about recent events. The emergence of a new Goddess was the main topic. The secondary topic was the punishment suffered by Jeffries Talfar. Two days dressed in a provocative costume to resemble a maid had been the idea of the head of Student Council; Countess Fiona Doucet. Rumor had it that she had entertained the idea of dressing him in something more compromising. There was no confirmation of that rumor though.

As for the future Duke, his disposition was returning to the way it had been. Well, with exception. Jeffries Talfar was staying clear of Solos. In fact, he was now giving them a very wide berth. He refused to even look directly at them, much less talk to any. Otherwise he was soon to reclaim the title of being the most insulting and abusive student in the Academy. Many of the Fourth year students were having fun at his expense though. Kiss noises and the occasional whistle. One or two strong Third years did the same. It had continued through the weekend but started to wane now that a new week had started.

The main topic of discussion among the Third years was the match between Solo Fotens and Princess Weyden that afternoon. Several passing by Patrick's table gave him silent encouragement. Others in support of Jessica were more vocal as they passed her.

Fiona stood up from her table and addressed the dining hall, "GOOD MORNING."

The talk quieted down and all the present students looked to the Countess.

"We have the start of a brand new week. One sure to start with excitement I've no doubt. This afternoon there is to be contest between two of the Third year class. I'm sure you already know who, but I'll just clear it up. The contest is between Princess Jessica Weyden and Solo Patrick Fotens. As exciting as that may be, its not until the afternoon so do focus on your respective lesson plans. Please respect the contestants, keep your encouragement in good taste. Or at least, keep it non-disruptive," Fiona advised then gathered up her breakfast tray to drop off at the window then leave but stopped at the doorway and looked back. "As for myself; I wish the both of them well."

Most of the assembled students stood and clapped looking to Jessica or Patrick. Some looked to both as they were not showing a favorite.

Jessica stood up and smiled, "thank you. I'll do my very best!"

Patrick looked around then gave a single nod. To the uninformed, it would appear that he was being nonchalant or dismissive. Most understood that he was simply giving subdued acknowledgement. Over the weekend he had taken receipt of a new Paladin model WarHorse. The stable mechanic had no trouble and had it tuned to Patrick's personal settings in a couple of hours. His campaign pack had arrived as well. It was the top pick for Solos; the Voyager set. In the pack was a medium tent with hardware. The tent came with a heater/stove that ran off a battery supply that recharged via a compact but high-output solar panel and a small wind generator. It could also recharge a horse as well.

The set included a sleep set; air mattress and insulated bag. Also a month of field rations along with a cookware set and water treatment. The final items were the five disassembled plasma lances. The Academy armorer had no problem assembling them and ensuring they were in working order and set to Patrick's specifications before disassembling them. His new armor, along with battle sword, would be arriving sometime that day.

Patrick and many others began to make their way out of the dining hall and a few moments later the bells chimed. Classes would be starting in a few minutes. The class of Third years quieted when Dame Ayalla entered the classroom.

"Good morning. Nice to have you back Princess Weyden, Duchess Monning and Lady Lamia. I hope your absence was educational," the instructor said firmly.

Jessica stood up, "If I'm brief may I address the class?"

Dame Ayalla nodded, "quickly Princess."

Jessica smiled, "Thank you. I'll hurry."

Quickly she went to the front of the class, "The three of us were absent to grant a request of a local towns'person. In short, we saw a battle between a God and a Goddess. We've learned that the mysterious person called the Nightmare Rider is actually a Goddess named Phoebe. She fought against a WarGod and defeated him. Phoebe is the Goddess of nightmares. The three of us met her WarPriestess. She and her family told us much on the way back to the Academy."

A hand went up immediately and Jessica called on them.

"Highness you said a God and Goddess. Are you certain they weren't Demi's," a Gentry girl asked.

Jessica nodded, "definitely. In fact the duel was because the Goddess Phoebe killed a Demi-God in battle. The God who sired him demanded retribution so challenged her to a duel. When she cut the God down, he burst into nothing. Its true she rides a demon. This Goddess Phoebe is the daughter of a God and a Goddess herself. As to exactly why she's been doing all the things we've heard about is still unknown. One thing is known, if she appears on your battlefield; RUN!"

"Unless you get a weapon from the Gods," Lord Phol Dariel chuckled.

Aruna Monning shook her head, "we saw her destroy three Divine objects with her sword!"

That got everyone's attention. Weapons made by the Gods were supposed to be indestructible. That they knew of. Apparently that was no longer true.

"So you mean even if a you manage to get your hands on a gift from the Gods, it won't matter at all," Phol asked in alarm.

Slowly Jessica nodded, "I've never seen anything like it. I've never HEARD of anything like it. A Demi using a gift to destroy a weapon made by a mortal yes. But to see a Goddess do that to a God is new to me! So my advice, as one who has seen her in combat, if she appears on your battlefield; RUN!"

With that Jessica returned to her seat. Dame Ayalla seemed to be digesting this new information. She had only heard the rider had been sighted again.

"Under the current circumstances I believe that to be sound advice. Thank you for sharing Princess. Unfortunately the absence was unexcused so you three will have to look after yourselves to prepare for the test at the end of the week. Let us begin with today's lesson," Dame Ayalla said.

The class settled down to begin. Two hours later they went to break then went to their next class until lunch.

Patrick went to the office to claim a package. It was the new armor. He took it to the Solos' WardRoom. However, he was detained. Jessica stopped him.

"Solo Fotens," Jessica called out." Is that the armor?"

Patrick nodded back, "so the tag says."

Jessica blinked, "oh. You haven't inspected it yet. Please bring any problem with it to me immediately. The contract is to be settled to your satisfaction. Without dispute. I'll not have otherwise."

"Sounds like you've been taught well," Patrick stated.

Jessica stood proudly, "my teacher is a prime example of professionalism and would expect nothing less from his student."

Patrick regarded her intently for a long and tense moment then said, "money well spent so far. Keep it so."

The Princess nodded as the Solo passed her. He continued to the WardRoom and set down the package then opened it. Piece by piece he laid out the new armor and inspected it. The Armorer had offered a reflective finish to the black and green pattern. Patrick declined for matte finish. He paid close attention to the shield. It had the capability of holding a clear film on its face that could contain a thin layer of water.

An old Solo trick was to cover the face of a shield with a clear film to contain a thin layer of water. The water would temporarily disapate the plasma from a lance. It was a trick that only worked once. Few that faced it survived to tell of its discovery. Patrick smiled to himself. During Tournament he would be allowed to wear his our armor and carry his own shield. He knew having a shield that could do this would be needed. If the lance was regulation then the shattering of it would conceal the splash of the water. If the lance was a battle lance then it would prove useless against him and be called into question. If that happened then the lance would be immediately be inspected and discovered. The rider would be found guilty of cheating.

Patrick knew that someone would try using a battle lance against him. A few coins per week to the stable hands kept him apprised of chatter. Sometimes names were provided, mostly only the conversation was gained. The Solo already knew that he was targeted. Jessica Weyden had been as well. It cost him ten coins to hear of it, ten coins that were repaid. Quickly he changed and attached his new armor. Patrick used the full mirror on the wall to visually inspect the set.

"New armor," Sir Belvin asked stepping inside.

Patrick nodded, "checking the fit."

The jousting instructor came over and began looking it over then tried to pull at the pieces. Patrick swayed at the rough handling.

"Looks like the connections are strong. Helmet," Sir Belvin asked.

Patrick went over and put on the helmet. Sir Belvin checked the connection of it then inspected the visor.

"Doesn't feel wrong," Patrick commented from inside.

Ren Belvin nodded, "good. Give me ten straddle hops."

Patrick performed the exercises then twisted, bent, crouched and walked around.

"Any shifting," Belvin asked.

"No. Its good," Patrick said, sounding like in a slight echo chamber.

Belvin nodded, "good. Brace."

Patrick adjusted his stance to prepare then signaled. Sir Belvin slammed into the Solo with his shoulder. Patrick staggered back two steps then signaled again. This was repeated twice more then Belvin stopped and checked selected pieces again.

"Well this set passes. Let's see the shield," Belvin stated.

Patrick pointed it out then began to remove the armor.

Belvin inspected the shield, "looks good. Hmmm. I've seen this before. This is a feature only found on shields for Solos. What is it?"

Patrick said nothing as he repacked the armor into its carry bag then took the shield and slid it into place as well.

"I see," Belvin remarked at his question not being answered.

Ren Belvin had learned with Solos and taught many after becoming the instructor, but some things still remained a mystery where they were concerned. Normally a Solo had no problem explaining why they did most things. That lent more credence to the fact that if they didn't answer a question, it should be dropped right then and there.

Belvin nodded, "all in all. A fine set of armor. The bells are about to ring."

Patrick noted the time and left. He had just enough time to get to his last indoor class before going to training, and the match with Jessica Weyden.

The stands had filled to more than had been when Patrick had the rematch against Lorenz. More than when Patrick first faced Jessica. In fact the crowd was three times previously seen. A crowd that roared as Jessica entered the arena riding Mars and raise her left arm in salute. It went to a fevered pitch when Patrick entered riding the new horse and saluted. He'd renamed his old horse to Eskeldar. The dull black Paladin model horse responded to Daemon. Both rode easily over to the middle of the lanes and faced each other. Her blue-hued silver armor shining brilliantly in the afternoon sun. His dull finish armor seemed to absorb all the light.

"Here we are again," Jessica said.

Patrick leaned forward slightly in nod, "yes. I have expectations Weyden. Daemon, battle."

Jessica gave a nod as well, "I do as well Solo Fotens. I am not about to go with less than full measures. You are the most formidable opponent I know of. I can't afford to spare an inch when it comes to you. Mars, battle."

They saluted each other then turned and went to their starting points. Patrick closed his visor then gripped his shield and took the first lance. At the other end, Jessica slowly did the same. She shifted to settle into her saddle then raised her lance up as did Patrick to signal they were ready. The official went to the middle point and held out the flag. The stands went quiet.

"Official contest between Weyden and Fotens," Sir Belvin announced.

The Official checked both sides then raised the flag up and ran clear, "GO!"

Mars lunged forward and began his run down the lane. Jessica sat straight in her saddle, shield flat to her body and lance slightly forward of her line. Patrick had Daemon break from his stand-still and race towards her. The Solo held his shield tilted forward and inward with his lance even with his line. The stands were cheering them on as the riders closed on each other.

"Make it count," Jessica said to herself.

Contact was made. Jessica adjusted at the last second to aim just off-center to the left for her lance. As his lance hit her shield she leaned back and angled her shield in. Patrick's lance broke and glanced back between the lanes. Jessica's lance snapped at the tip, slid across to the far outside. The shaft stopped sliding when it hit her own shield and braced. The result went exactly as she had hoped. Patrick was effectively being clothes-lined and flung from his saddle. A long heartbeat later Patrick hit the sand as the stands roared in excitement.

Jessica rode to the end of the lane and doubled back holding the broken lance high to the loud cheers. Patrick spent no time getting to his own feet and was remounting Daemon as she passed. An assistant had come out to help but hadn't made it mid-way before Patrick was already climbing back into his saddle. He'd never lost his shield the whole time. Patrick saluted, indicating he was fit to continue and returned to the starting point after exchanging lances.

Up in the stands Vaan Arento chuckled, "I wonder who was more surprised that worked? Fotens or Jessica herself?"

"She's become more adventurous. Of course she knows she has to take risks when up against someone like him. This truly has gotten interesting," Fiona remarked as she clapped.

Down in the arena the assistant handing Jessica a new lance smiled, "very well done Princess! That was quite risky, but it paid off."

Jessica took the lance, "have to take risk if you want reward. Thank you."

She snapped her visor down and moved to the starting point. Patrick was already waiting. The Official came out and checked both sides then held his flag ready. The cheering went down a notch, but didn't stop.

"GO," the Official yelled and ran clear with his flag high.

Daemon bolted forward and tore down the lane. Patrick settled in and rode leaned forward in his saddle, shield angled inward and lance slightly forward of his line. Jessica had launched Mars forward as well then rode straight but turned outward with her lance held just back from her line.

Jessica held steady as Mars raced down her lane, "he won't fall for it twice."

The last strides forward Patrick had Daemon shorten his stride and at the contact point spurred him to surge forward with a powerful lunge. He had pulled the lance back then thrust it hard just left of center of her shield. Jessica had begun twisting back inward when she saw his lance pull back. Her eyes widened to realize he tricked her as the lance came back faster than it retreated. The sudden move took the princess completely by surprise. The loud clash almost drowned out the stands as Patrick's lance slammed her shield and shattered. Jessica found herself catapulted back and hit the sand solidly.

Up in the stands Lorenz Dante winced, "she's definitely going to feel that later."

Nia had been holding Lorenz' hand and asked, "I hate to say it, but that hit looked harder than any you took. I mean, it probably wasn't. The princess is lighter than you and Solo Fotens so the effect looks worse I guess."

"Well they're even right now. One for one. I'd say this match is a bigger deal than the one with me," Lorenz Dante said then softly to his girlfriend. "At least she learned something since then."

Together they watched the arena below. Jessica had gotten to her feet then saluted. She gathered up her shield and lance then went over and remounted Mars with a quick salute to Patrick as he passed by. Both rode back to their ends and exchanged lances then moved to the starting points as the Official took his place at the middle. He checked each then held the flag out.

"GO," the Official yelled and ran clear.

The horses bolted into high speed runs. Patrick sat leaning slightly forward, shield angled down and lance slightly forward of line. Jessica rode slightly back with her shield tilted back and in. Her lance was held even of line. As contact was made she threw herself forward in the saddle and aimed just below center of Patrick's shield. Patrick had aimed above and left of center. The results were spectacular as the crowd watched both lances shatter in the clash. Patrick had felt himself lifted and pushed to the edge of his saddle and Jessica was pushed almost flat to the back of her horse.

The stands erupted with cheers and whistles. As the two riders doubled back they both saluted each other. Jessica discarded the lance, signaled for water and flipped up her visor.

"Ow. THAT didn't work the way I thought it would," Jessica remarked loudly to herself then took a long drink from the bottle.

The assistant took the bottle back, "not a bad idea though. It might work on someone else so I wouldn't toss it out."

"Right. I'll keep it in mind," Jessica replied then snapped her visor back down and took the new lance.

Slowly Mars walked over to the starting position. Daemon had already taken position and Patrick waited calmly. Jessica thought hard with her mind racing. She was trying not to feel intimidated by his imposing figure then thought to herself that had he been wearing his regiment colors he would be even more intimidating. Mentally she shook that off.

"He's heavier than me. More skilled. I need to hit harder without losing my lance," Jessica muttered to herself.

The cheering from the stands was steady but divided. The Official checked both sides. Patrick signaled his readiness. Jessica made her decision and signaled her own.

"GO," the Official yelled above the din and ran clear.

Daemon bolted and ran down the lane. Patrick rode straight in his saddle, shield flat and lance even with his line.

"He's just going to hammer me down," Jessica said aloud and adjusted in the saddle to lean forward and angle her shield down. She extended her lance forward of her line and braced tight to herself.

They reached the middle and made contact. Patrick angled his shield inward and up and braced his lance to himself aiming below center. Jessica aimed above center this time. The tip of Jessica's lance burst apart and went over his shoulder. Patrick's lance shattered as it picked her up and threw her back.

"OH!" the crowd in the stands called out.

Though short, Jessica's flight was quite the sight with a landing that was very solid.

"PRINCESS! COME ON PRINCESS!" Many in the stands cheered to urge her up. Others were stomping and clapping in support.

Slowly Jessica rolled over pulled her knees under herself then pushed upright. An assistant ran over and checked on her.

"Highness are you alright? Are you fit," he asked.

Jessica laughed inside her helmet and flipped up the visor, "now THAT was a solid hit! I am fit thank you."

The cheering went out louded when she saluted then salute Patrick as well when he rode by. She remounted Mars and took her shield and broken lance. Jessica rode back to her end and discarded the lance.

"That was some hit Princess," the assistant with the water bottle remarked as she drank.

Jessica handed it back, "well if I am to be unhorsed. I hope it looked magnificent."

She chuckled, "certainly! Like an eagle struck by lightening."

Jessica took the new lance, "oh good! I'd hate to resemble a rag doll flung aside."

The assistant shook her head, "oh you're the epitome of grace. Though I'm starting to wonder if he hit you too hard. Are you fit?"

Jessica smiled and snapped the visor down, "definitely fit."

Mars was ridden over to the starting position and Jessica settled into her saddle. Carefully she thought. How could she take him down? Finally she decided and signaled readiness. The Official had been waiting at the middle and held out his flag. The stands went dead quiet.

"GO!" The Official yelled and ran clear.

Mars lunged forward and tore down the lane. Jessica resettled fast then angled her shield back and inward. She would aim just left above center and bracing the lance tight to herself. Daemon had jumped forward then took stride racing for the opposite end. Patrick rode straight in his saddle with his shield flat and lance even with his line. Once again Daemon's stride was shortened as they closed then lunged at the moment of contact as Patrick threw himself forward. Shield angled down and he thrust the lance at her shield aiming below center. The lances struck and shattered. Patrick was turned in his saddle while Jessica found herself being launched out of hers.

The crowd in the stands gasped as Jessica landed in a heap on the sand. The assistants and Sir Belvin ran out to the downed princess. They joined a moment later by Patrick.

Sir Belvin flipped up Jessica's visor, "Princess? She's out."

One of the assistants reached into a pouch and pulled out and ampule and handed it to the instructor. Sir Belvin cracked it and waved under Jessica's nose. The pungent odor stirred her.

"Come on Weyden. Enough laying around," Patrick remarked.

Jessica winced and groaned, "that hurt. Owwww."

Belvin asked, "can you move everything Highness?"

"I think so. Yes," Jessica said then reached up.

Patrick grabbed her hand and slowly hauled her to her feet, "you're done Weyden. That was three."

Jessica frowned as she finally steadied herself, "It was three? Damn."

"Highness go get checked out. You look like Fotens rung your bell but go make sure that's all," Sir Belvin instructed her then turned to the stands. "THIRD LANCE TO SOLO FOTENS, THE WINNER! A GREAT SHOWING BY PRINCESS WEYDEN."

The stands clapped and cheered. Some whistled. The jousting instructor raised his hands to call them down and the stands went quiet to hear him.

"That is the last of the official matches. Tournament selection will be posted in two weeks. For now will be individual training. Any personal duels are disallowed until after Tournament. That's it. Done for the day," Sir Belvin called out to dismiss them.

Slowly the stands started to empty. Students were discussing the match and their thoughts of the techniques used by each rider. Duchess Aruna Monning and Lady Lamia Tuala rushed down to meet Jessica before she left. Aruna was given permission for Mars and Lamia went to the Royals' WardRoom for Jessica's clothes. Both would meet her at the trainer's office where she would be looked over carefully. Fifteen minutes later Jessica was cleared and went to the WardRoom to shower and change then rest.

Vaan Arento smiled to Fiona, "it looks like Jessica is extremely lucky. If she hadn't bought out the contract I don't think she'd be able to cope after this afternoon."

"Lucky is an understatement Vaan. I'm glad I was watching, but now I have concerns for myself. Fotens is strong and skilled. The Princess took him by surprise on the first lance. I've no doubt that he'll be watching for it again," Fiona said firmly.

The normally flamboyant prince nodded, "we BOTH should be concerned. I can afford to come in second place. YOU can not. And after that business with Jeffries Talfar, rest assured he definitely intends to make sure you're brought down. I've no doubt that he has plans for Fotens as well. More than likely; brutal plans."

Fiona sighed, "if he didn't before; he is making those plans now. Somehow though Fotens has been able to keep up with Jeffries."

"I'm curious as to how. Fotens must have an informer or two," Vaan chuckled.

"That's another thing. Solos have always stayed one step ahead of serious trouble here at the Academy. My predecessor had his suspicions that there may be a network established in the Academy that attending Solos have some access to," Fiona confided.

Vaan Arento studied his friend intently, "you'd like to make use of it as well."

The Countess laughed, "who wouldn't? Mostly I'm curious as to the truth of it. If there is such a network exclusively for Solos then so be it. The need for such a system is valid. It keeps the Solos outside the normal politics and exploitation. Its just that some things should be brought to the attention of the student president."

"But to do so would reveal the network and possibly destroy it. Who knows how long its been there and just how extensive it really is. I would venture that such had cost several thousands of coin just to establish years ago. To replace it would cost at least a hundred times that," Vaan speculated.

Fiona arched an eyebrow at the statement.

Vaan sipped his water, "my Grandfather told me a story once. After he graduated he did a bit of wandering before going home. Of course he had made an enemy or two here along with some friends. He managed to plant a person into each of his enemies household during his break. For ten years nothing of consequence came from those spies. One day a messenger came, grandfather's rival was going to lay siege to a House. This House belonged to a lower noble that was in a class behind him and grandfather at the Academy."

"Juicy story. Tell me more," Fiona smiled.

"Late that night Grandfather heard from his spy in the rival's House. A deal had been struck between the two. In return for luring Grandfather into a trap, a family debt would be removed," Vaan told her.

Fiona leaned forward listening raptly, "so what happened?"

The Prince smiled wickedly, "he hired three regiments of Solos and basically slammed both armies from four sides. Both houses were pretty much toppled and no longer exist. The titles remain, but are held by other families now with no connection to the previous."

"Nice story. I like it. Well as much as I would like to just sit here," Fiona stood up. "My day is far from over."

Vaan smiled as the Countess left.

Phoebe stepped into the darkened room, "did you enjoy the show?"

"I'm surprised she got the better of you on the first run," Daalumos commented.

Phoebe took her place on her throne, "it was a clever move. She tried another but it wouldn't work on my Glamoured form. She should have enough points for selection though. I saw the new temple is well underway. What have you discovered."

"Something ironic. Rudianos had to have been the most destitute War-God ever. He had no holdings on any other plane and spent all of his time on this plane. Any offerings he had received went to the expenses of the three temples in his name," the BloodLust informed her.

Phoebe shook her head, "that's not ironic; its depressing. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I'm not a Goddess of luck. We'll simply have to let the matter pass. He has nothing left worth taking. It will take at least a millennium of constant worship just to conjure a base existence for him. None of his followers believe in him anymore. His religion will die out. If it hasn't already."

Daalumos tossed his head, "I felt power waning from the temples."

Phoebe nodded. It was easy to feel the power of worship. Unless it was for them though, they couldn't tap that power. Much like the same way they detected Divine offspring. As for mortals, only the very magically gifted could detect the presence of a deity. Such as the local witch that had also been present at the duel. When Phoebe and Daalumos first scouted the village they had felt her presence and began suppressing their own. Now it had become force of habit. The house itself had become a blank spot due to a series of charms that surrounded it. Essentially only a God or Goddess could find them. It was how they had remained undisturbed for this long. Another charm by the front door simply gave off a feeling of unease to any mortals that blundered upon the house.

Phoebe settled back and closed her eyes. Daalumos could feel she was not searching. He knew she was resting and went to sleep as well.
 
 
 
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Chapter 12 of     The Nightmare Rider

It was the first morning of the final weekend of the month. Patrick walked into the Academy wearing his new uniform in the colors of the Eighty-Sixth Regiment. There were no classes and many of the students who were from close by actually went home on the weekends. For the most part the rest looked after themselves. They either cooked for themselves or in groups for meals. Others simply went into either of the two villages. There was usually a gap between those that took their breakfast inside and the exodus to the villages. It was that gap that was so important.

Patrick turned down a side corridor and entered the second room on the right. He crossed to the wall of miniature shields. Each one embossed with the colors and number of a Solo Regiment. It was the shield for the Nineteenth Regiment that he pressed. Everyone had been convinced that the Nineteenth was one of the regiments that provided protection for entertainers. For most part that was true. Two platoons did exactly that. The other platoons however, did not. They originated from members of the First, Second, Sixth and Tenth Regiments. The real purpose of those two platoons were the carefully guarded secret. They were essentially the Internal Affairs units. Investigation and action. If Solos committed offenses or had offenses committed against them, the Third and Fourth platoons of the Nineteenth Regiment dealt with it.

Pressing that shield released a catch and a hidden doorway swung inward. Patrick stepped in and closed the door behind him. The door concealed a stairway. Patrick walked up the stairs and knocked on the door then entered. Inside was a long table with several students seated in various colored uniforms.

"I got a late start," Patrick remarked as he went over and took a seat.

"You're in time. We were just about to start," the young man seated at the head of the table then addressed the group. "All in attendance."

He wore the colors of the First Regiment. Everyone knew his name, Doril Hunley. A rarity among them, having both parents not only Solos, but Solos of the same regiment. They began with contracts that were open, closed and pending. The discussion went on to cover any delinquent accounts then grievances. Such was the majority of the meeting. Finally the young man at the head of the table took out ten coins and placed them in front of him. The rest did the same.

"One of the assistants for Tournament has been bribed to supply tainted bottles of water to all Solos participating," Doril stated then looked to the right.

Goron Favell a Fourth year of the Twenty-second regiment stated, "six lances have been ordered in the Academy scheme from a local dealer. Purchaser is not an Academy student or staff."

"Medical records were broken into and fifty files were noted to be inspected," Danze Marow; a 4th year girl from the Fifty-Fifth Regiment informed them.

Bron Zako of the Forty-first regiment was the last Fourth year of the Solos and told them, "the WardRoom is no longer secure. Someone has gone through all the armor closets."

Patrick spoke up, "the stable has had disturbances. Possible that horses will be sabotaged."

The rest had little bits, but still of note. Hensee Rassan; no affiliation Third year, Jen Siva: a Second year girl of the Nineteenth regiment. Timmerlain Voklien; a Second year with no affiliation. Kyl Borkor of the Twenty-Eighth regiment in his Second year along with Lorne Del Thirty-Seventh regiment. Milos Arenlon; a First year with no affiliation sat beside Bess Ginaar. She was also was in her First year with no affiliation. Across from them sat Rositor Jazorr who like them had no affiliation. Urick Wordine sat in the last chair. He was from the Sixth Regiment in his First year. Those were all the Solos currently enrolled in the Academy.

"So in short there are definitely nasty plans for the Tournament. We already know that all Solos, Vaan Arento, Jessica Weyden, Fiona Doucet have been targeted. Anything else," Doril asked.

Jen Siva frowned, "nothing definitive but one of the Dining servers was heard to say that soon she would have enough money to leave and gave a time after Tournament. The source of the money was not revealed so either she may have been bribed or she intends to wager on the outcome. If not both."

"That's not enough. We need to know more," Hensee Rassan stated. "Gambling is allowed. Placing the wager using information of wrong-doing is another matter. The staff here probably do have favorites chosen already for private wagers. Certainly with their experience they would do well at the booths."

Doril Hunley nodded, "yes. They would be able to make good wagers. I agree though, more information needs to be obtained. The main issue here is: are all these moving pieces connected? If so; is this a ploy by an element within or without the Academy?"

"A group outside the Academy could be making some of the moves for gambling purposes," Danze Marow remarked.

Patrick shook his head, "that wouldn't explain the events within the Academy or the order for lances. I believe these are the concerted actions of one person within the Academy."

"You mean Jeffries Talfar," Goron Favell said pointedly. "There is basis. Talfar has substantial gains riding on the outcome. Personal for himself and business for the father. Targeting us is no surprise though, he's never regarded Solos highly. Especially you Fotens, due to recent events."

Everyone chuckled at that.

Doril finished making notes in the book in front of him, "either way we need more to go on. Reconvene next Saturday. Until then, if you do NOT have your own armor I suggest you obtain a set and keep it under your exclusive control. Also the day before Tournament, remove your horse from the stable, have it examined and stored securely."

A box was moved from one Solo to the next, each dropped ten coins slowly into it through a slot. When it returned to Doril he took it over to small opening and set it inside and closed a door. A few moments later he opened the door and took out the box and set it back on the table after shaking it. The box was empty. It was a practice that had been going on since Solos began attending the Academy. They would all pay to exchange information and the payment went into a special fund for future Solos to attend the Academy. After that they all adjourned one by one.

Jessica nodded back with a smile to those that recognized her and gestured their respect. She, Aruna Moning and Lamia Tuala were wandering through the village. The princess had hurried her two friends so that they would start their day with breakfast in a cafe. Now the three friends were simply wandering about. A group of little girls had seen the trio and took it upon themselves to accompany them.

"Well now. Since we have such fine escorts and guides we should make sure they've been taken care of," Aruna smiled and nodded to a display of flowers in front of a shop.

"So true," Jessica smiled back then called inside. "Florist?"

A middle-age woman came out, "yes? Oh! Your Highness, my Ladies. How may I help you?"

Jessica looked to a basket of grey-like roses then counted the children before telling her, "it seems our escort is unarmed."

The woman nodded to Jessica's wink then gathered up the appropriate number of blooms and passed them to her, "certainly Highness. We definitely can't let that continue."

Jessica divided the flowers to Aruna and Lamia then gave one each to the the girls closest to her. Each one smiled, thanked them and tried their best to curtsy.

Jessica took coins from her belt purse and passed them to the florist, "there now. All taken care of. My thanks for such splendid arms for our contingent."

"Happy to provide your Highness. My Ladies," she replied with a quick curtsy.

The girls walked happily around trio now and chattered about each shop or cart they passed. Several other students waved or simply nodded as the group passed them by. Eventually they stopped in front of building under construction.

"That's a new temple," one of the girls announced proudly.

Another nodded, "its for a Goddess."

"Is it for the Goddess named Phoebe? The Nightmare Rider," Aruna asked.

Several looked up in surprise, "you KNOW her?"

Lamia nodded, "we've seen her."

"Is it true? Did she really kill a God," the girl by Jessica asked.

"That's what it looked like to us. It was quite a sight," Jessica replied.

The girl standing by Lamia shook her head, "I wouldn't want to see her. I'm scared of nightmares."

Jessica crouched down to her level, "yeah. She looked scary to us to too. Beautiful, but scary."

"Really Princess," another girl asked. "How can she be pretty and scary at the same time?"

Jessica stood up and took the little girl's hand in her own. Together they led the rest over to a stone bench. Jessica, Aruna and Lamia sat down.

"Well its like this," Jessica began to explain. "Not everything scary is ugly and not everything pretty is nice. Like DarkShade. The flowers are really pretty, but if you smell it too much or taste it, it can hurt you."

Aruna nodded, "exactly. And Demon Finger. Its got thorns and stinks really bad but if done right, it makes a medicine that cures really bad headaches."

The handful of girls began to nod, such examples did make sense to them. Many young girls encountered DarkShade. Most merely experienced violent sneezing and minor nose-bleeding. The pollen was the poison, any ingested caused major problems. The pollen would eat away at the inside of the mouth, throat and stomach. Constant sniffing of the flowers did the same to the nose and lungs. It was one of the first lessons girls learned. Never grab anything off the stove and never play with DarkShade flowers.

Lamia giggled, "our student council president is pretty and some times scary too."

"What about him," one of the girls asked and pointed to the street.

They all looked and saw Patrick Fotens walking down the street.

Aruna purred, "oh he is DEFINITELY very nice to look at. When he isn't taking you or a friend off their horse!

"Don't I know it," Jessica frowned.

The girls all looked at her in shock and one asked, "he took you off your horse Princess?"

Jessica nodded, "yes he did. Solo Patrick Fotens is very skilled and strong. He will certainly be in the Tournament. If I am in then I'll have to face him again."

"Are Solos nice," the girl next to Jessica asked.

"Solos aren't nice or mean. They only do their job. When you get older you'll understand better. Solos only do what they are hired to do. Someone wiser than I once said, 'If you want truth seek a philosopher. If you want fact, seek a teacher. If you want warriors that will never betray you, pay the Solos.' Its very true," Jessica told her.

Lamia arched an eyebrow, "that's fairly deep. Who said that?"

"Vaan Arento," Jessica chuckled.

"PRINCE VAAN," Aruna and Lamia asked at the same time.

"IN THE FLESH," Vaan Arento proclaimed then looked at the group. "Oh MY! A bevy of beauties before me! Wherever and whomever shall I start with?"

He stepped closer and went to one knee then took each girl's hand and kissed it, "Vaan Arento. Prince of Scavlic and so very pleased to meet you!"

Aruna and Lamia stood up and curtsied, "your Highness."

Vaan flashed them a dazzling smile and kissed their hands as well, "Duchess Aruna. Lady Lamia. Always a pleasure! I dare say this is quite interesting. I've never seen such an adorable entourage before."

One girl looked up at him and asked shyly, "are you really a prince? You're pretty. Why is your hair like a girl?"

Vaan stroked his long hair that had a small braid down the back, woven with ribbons, "oh dear. I've done it again haven't I Jessica?"

"Anything else would be unusual," Jessica giggled.

Aruna and Lamia nodded their own agreement as they too, giggled. Vaan sighed dramatically then sat down next to Jessica.

"I suppose I really am hopeless about these things. If it weren't for you and Fiona I imagine I'd look quite the spectacle," Vaan said to Jessica giving her a soulful look and leaning closer.

"Any other girl would be blushing furiously," Jessica said then playfully pushed him back. "I, however, am immune."

The flamboyant prince finally laughed, "indeed you are Jessica! Now what fun have I discovered here?"

Jessica nodded to the building under construction, "that new temple. Its for that Goddess Phoebe, the one known as the Nightmare Rider."

"Ah, yes. Serious business. She is not one to trifle with. I heard the three of you saw her up close. Right now I'm more interested in how you are feeling. You were quite clever on your first run but Solo Fotens won out in the end," Vaan commented.

Everyone was now paying attention.

"His skills are almost insanely good. I'm just glad I," Jessica caught herself then finished. "I didn't make the mistake of a second personal match."

The prince knew she almost slipped to say that she had bought out the liaison contract. He knew that she wasn't aware he knew about it. Better that he didn't admit it either.

"Well with his experience its only natural to be concerned," Vaan remarked.

Aruna gawked, "his experience? Just how well do you know Solo Fotens?"

Vaan looked like he had been caught between two romantic rivals, "I might have gotten a peek at his record."

Jessica glared, "your HIGHNESS."

"Alright. I got a look. His record is impeccable. Never defeated in battle. And he's been in over sixty battles. In short, he's the most formidable Solo of his age. Actually, he has even me worried. As if that wasn't enough. At least with him, its because he's that good!"

Jessica understood exactly what he just implied. Without specifically saying it, he said that someone in the Tournament was worthy of worry, and not because they had the skills. They would be using underhanded tactics. The prince's statement wasn't lost on Aruna or Lamia either.

Just as quickly though Vaan's whole demeanor shifted, "Now then. Such lovely ladies here. I'm inspired to dance!"

He stood up and smiled to the nearest girl, took her hands gently and began to slowly teach her how to dance. Soon he switched to another girl, giving the basics of the dance before moving on to another. Jessica and her two friends found themselves drawn in and dancing with the girls too to teach them. Aruna Moning, being the social butterfly, turned out to be the better dancer of the three. That was how they spend the rest of the morning until slipping away for lunch at a cafe.

Phoebe sat on her throne and spoke to Daalumos, "that was an informative meeting."

"You have come to enjoy this facade's lifestyle. Is it because they are so similar to ourselves," the bound demon asked.

"Yes actually. Of all the mortals we have encountered, I understand Solos the best. They are the least complicated," Phoebe stated.

Daalumos tossed his head, "it does seem that they are the more sensible of the mortals. Not concerning themselves with most of the foolishness that so many do. I do wonder how long we will be able to continue our activities before your father finally takes notice."

"The longer we stay away from the Underworld and out of dreams; the longer we go undetected. As long as we are not setting out punishment; we go unnoticed by my mother as well," Phoebe stated.

The BloodLust now understood, "it is your father only that you intend to usurp."

"We'll be fine as long as Barbatos does not become curious about either of us," Phoebe said intently.

Daalumos nodded, "the Duke will not lie if he is asked. Even if a mortal conjures him. He would be beheld to the terms of the conjuring. It is not He I have concern with. Bael is the concern."

"The Demon King of the east region of Underworld. His kingdom borders Tartarus belonging to Hades and Irkalla ruled by Ereshkigal. How many legions does he command," Phoebe asked.

"Sixty-six demon legions. My power can frenzy them, but he can still direct them. Even with your sword, we would be overwhelmed. Our power is not strong enough. Yet," Daalumos remarked.

Phoebe nodded, "then we will be patient. Our legend is growing. We are gaining followers and temples."

The bound Demon laughed, "if we continue as we have been, it will not take us a thousand years like your father did!"

Phoebe shrugged, "I sure hope NOT!"

Fiona Doucet sat at her desk looking at the plain envelope. She had found it sitting there waiting for her. Finally she opened it.
It has become known that during Tournament certain competitors will be provided with tainted water bottles.

"Thanks for the tip whoever you are. Very smart to have it printed instead of written," Fiona remarked then reached into a drawer and took out a pencil. Over a scrap of paper she scraped the lead to make a dust then blew gently onto the page. Nothing appeared. With a sigh of resignation she took the page and envelope and put them into a file in the bottom drawer then locked it. The drawer had many files, all marked by the year. They all had the same thing in common, anonymous notes to prevent serious wrong-doing in the Academy.

Fiona spoke out the words as she wrote a letter of her own, "Headmaster, I believe it may be in the best interest for the Tournament competitors to provide their own food and especially drinks for the day. Sincerely, Student Council President, Fiona Doucet; Countess of Sparzo."

She sealed it in an official envelope then dropped it off through the slot in the Headmaster's door. The Countess turned and walked back to the corridor and began to walk back toward the dorms.

"AH FIONA," a familiar voice called out.

Fiona smiled and turned back, "Hi Vaan."

At a glance she could tell her friend was in an exceptionally good mood.

"Alright, tell. Very few things could have you so bubbly," Fiona remarked. "What have you been doing now?"

The prince smile and waved a pink rose, "I've spent a greater part of the day in wonderful company! Oh an Jessica Weyden, Duchess Moning and Lady Lamia were there too."

Vaan took her hand in his and began to promenade her down the corridor, "dear Fiona I had such a LOVELY time! You, of course, missed out. I'll be happy to regale you!"

The prince then swept in front of her and led her into twirl past himself. Fiona posed then spun back in to him and together they stepped forward in lock. Another turn and they stepped back to continue down the corridor side by side. Vaan led with her actually being a quarter-step forward of himself. One would think it would be the opposite. They'd be wrong. Were they not in physical contact then the royal or higher noble would lead. When in physical contact, as they were, etiquette dictated the lady be place slightly ahead of the gentleman. The reason behind that being, the lady was being presented as she was usually unknown at large.

The levity of the moment caught up to Fiona and she couldn't resist laughing. A minute later they were back in her office and sat on the sofa.

"Its so good to hear your laugh. Its so rare Fiona," Vaan commented.

Fiona went over and made a pot of hot water then came back to pour them both a cup of tea, "that's not true. I do laugh frequently."

The prince wagged a finger at her, "no you don't. You are referring to that token you give. I'm referring to your real laugh. Not in amusement, in pleasure. Please don't deny it. Even if just for a moment, you were happy."

"Yes Vaan. I was happy. For those moments you helped me forget. Thank you for that gift," Fiona smiled to her friend.

Vaan patted her hand, "you're quite welcome. Now, as to your question. I was wandering about the village and ran into Jessica and her two friends. They were entertaining quite an adorable entourage. Since I heard Jessica quoting myself, naturally I had to step in."

"Naturally," the Countess chuckled.

"Of course! Under my expert teaching the girls learned how to dance for a ball. I'm certain several of them shall grow up to be rather sought after. Each one a future heart-breaker," Vaan smiled in self-satisfaction.

Fiona shook her head, "how shameless of you. I'm sure you had them all eating out of hand in seconds."

Vaan smiled, "on the contrary my charming Countess. I found myself wrapped around their little fingers and treated them not only to lunch, but also a stop at the confectioners! Then I personally escorted each and every one of them safely home. I had a grand time. You would have as well."

"Well that does sound fun. I'm glad to hear about it since I couldn't be there," Fiona smiled then frowned. "I'm glad I ran into you. I've learned something very disturbing. I've suggested to the Headmaster that on the day of the Tournament that all the competitors supply their own food and drink for the day. I'm concerned about sabotage."

Vaan sighed, "you are not the only one. I saw three Solos at a private stable. They were reserving stalls for their horses and state that others would be doing so as well. I think you may have right about them knowing things."

"Without a bloody sword, its all just hearsay and suspicion. I can't deny though, if Solos are moving their horses out. They are convinced of sabotage and are covering themselves. We should as well. I'd like to warn others," Fiona admitted. "The problem is; who would be safe to warn?"

"You warn the Headmaster Fiona. Even if you had a bloody sword. You go to the Headmaster. He will deal with things," Vaan stated.

Fiona sighed, "very well. I'll speak to him first thing in the morning."

"That's the thing to do Fiona. Just do that. It will be enough," Vaan said then patted her hand and left.

Fiona sighed at the closed door and whispered to herself, "I was so cheated for missing that party years ago."

The Headmaster held up the letter, "I take it the Solos know more than they are telling?"

The woman dressed as a Maid nodded, "they do."

"let me guess; They have enough to cover themselves, but not enough for action. Nothing definitive," the Headmaster asked.

She stood firmly, "correct."

The Headmaster set several coins on his desk toward her, "will you look into it."

The Maid reached over and took the coins, "yes."

"Once again, I'm glad you've been here Captain. I'm sure your successor will be quite the professional," the Headmaster stated.

The Maid nodded and left.

"The successor is probably my secretary this time. The Nineteenth Regiment would do that just because they could," The Headmaster said to himself then secured his office to leave.

Walking to the cottage he shared with his wife, the Headmaster thought back to his first day as Headmaster. Twenty-two years ago he was just finishing the day when his office door opened and a nurse stepped inside.

"I'm know I'm new, but shouldn't you knock before entering any office," He asked.

She said nothing but showed him the necklace pendant with the crest of the Nineteenth Regiment then a contract. For the next half hour she briefed him on her duties. Essentially she was a Captain of the Fourth platoon, Nineteenth FreeLancers Regiment. Her duties were simple, investigate any illicit activities concerning Solos in the Academy. Her presence and mission were not to be disclosed to anyone other than the Headmaster. Her tenure lasted another two years before she was replaced by a teaching assistant. Every eight years a new Captain presented herself to him. Each would have a different position and had been interviewed by the appropriate staff supervisor. Usually they had already been working for some time before revealing themselves to him. Its was just another side to the mysterious world of Solos.

 
 
 
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Chapter 13 of     The Nightmare Rider

Patrick stood just outside the door of the Solo Registry looking at the boards for local information. The one on the left featured assignments, the right held advertisements. The top of the boards were time sensitive and the bottom half were long-term. Like all previous Solos attending the Academy, he had rented a box. In the box were daily notices and any specific advertisements along with direct communication messages. Patrick had already collected from his box and now checked over the boards. The stable he had visited yesterday, along with a couple of other Solos, didn't bring good news. The Stable owner had told them that four days before Tournament he would change his rates because of all the visitors. They wanted a stable that they could all use and station a guard or two.

After sitting at one of the cafes to eat for appearances he began his search. He bypassed the other two large stables and the boarding houses. Instead he set out for the outskirts. He was riding Eskeldar. Daemon was currently being kept at the Academy still. Having two horses made things easier for the moment. One in view, one out. Soon they would be switched. After four tries he was successful. An old woman had a barn big enough for the Solos' horses. Though only the Fourth and Third years would be competing, all fourteen Solos would stable their horses together. She even agreed to keep the arrangement secret for an additional fee.

Miren Senun had been living alone for some time. The spring and summer weren't very difficult as she maintained a garden big enough for herself with some extra to sell in the village. The winter on the other hand was always difficult. The money Patrick promised the Solos would pay would get her through more than one winter. He also promised that if this time went as they liked they would contract her barn the following year as well for the same price. As a show of faith he made a deposit of fifty coins. For that the elderly woman eagerly agreed.

By noon the other Solos had arrived and looked over the barn.

"This will work just fine Fotens," Doril announced. "Let's get to work."

Jackets were removed and clean-up began. Miren saw an opportunity to earn more and proposed to provide meals for a fee. The Solos quickly agreed and she set about preparing dinner for them all. As the sun set they had finished and began to clean themselves up. The girls went inside while the boys merely washed up outside.

"Fine meal," Danze Marow stated as she set down her fork. "May we have an empty glass?"

Miren nodded, "certainly."

An empty glass was given to her and Danze dropped her meal payment into it then passed it on. Each did the same and Doril handed it to Miren.

"Thank you," the old woman smiled then went to her kitchen to clean up.

Doril looked over to Danze, "what have you learned."

"This is a big house. She has lived alone for four years, none of her children or grandchildren visit. She does fine enough during the fair months, but struggles through the cold months. She's fairly lonely as well," the Fourth year Solo informed him.

Kyl Borkor stated, "what are you thinking?"

"Probably the same thing I am now," Goron Favell said.

Doril looked around the table, "from what I've read in the various predecessors' notes; there have been previous, but rare attempts to manipulate the Tournament. I'm thinking that we submit a proposal to the Council. In short, an offer is made to this property owner to purchase. The Council owns it and she remains on site in the guise of owner, but actually the caretaker. The barn is in good shape and the upper level could be turned into barracks. Miren Senun would be paid to continue doing as she does along with meal service."

"Summer break is coming up. The first and second years could remain on site here to make the renovations," Bess Ginaar suggested.

Hensee Rassan agreed, "I have no obligations, I could oversee the project. Most of us pay monthly for boarding so it wouldn't be a problem. Didn't you say you pre-paid your entire two years Fotens?"

Patrick nodded, "I did. However I could oversee some days of the project as well."

Miren Senun came back in, "excuse me. Could I interest any of you in some pie?"

"Yes Miren. Also we would like to include you in our current conversation," Danze Marow replied.

Miren nodded. She went back into the kitchen and came back with a stack of small plates, forks and a pie. Quickly she served the Solos then sat down.

Quickly Doril explained the idea.

Miren looked around and asked, "I would get paid to pretend I still own the farm and just look after you?"

"More or less. The Solos enrolled at the Academy would be paying you for meals and any other services you offer but billeting would be paid to the Council of Regiments. That is, rent for their room would be paid to the Council," Bron Zako explained.

"I think I might like that. I do wonder though; I'm not so young. What would become of me when the day comes that I can't get around anymore," Miren asked.

Goron spoke up, "there's actually a program for Solos when they go beyond retirement. You would be eligible. The First Regiment is in charge of it. Doril can tell you more."

Miren looked to him and he nodded, "I spent a summer there. Its actually a castle with full staff, including medical. That option can be included in the terms of the contract."

"When I do eventually pass on, could I be brought back here? I'd like to be buried with my husband," Miren said.

Danze nodded, "if you wish. Any specific rites would be provided as well. This may sound callous, but it is honest. We want you happy with the arrangement. The reason why is because that would make us, and those after us, feel secure. That may sound harsh to you, but we are Solos and its our way to be clear."

"Would it be possible for a young lady to stay in the house, instead of the barn. Just in case," Miren asked.

Jen Siva nodded, "I think I understand your request. Yes, it could be arranged."

"Danze will come by tomorrow evening with the contract. I'll contact the Council in the morning and should have an answer by the end of the week. If the Council agrees then I'll come back that evening for the contract to be signed and your payment," Doril informed her.

Miren smiled, "so fast? I hope they agree. It would be nice having you young people around."

All the Solos got up and left with a nod to her. It was agreed that they would bring in their horses the next day after classes.

Fiona appeared to be wandering about idly. The day before, all the Solos had disappeared for the afternoon and Doril Hunley had a closed-door meeting with the Headmaster first thing that morning. That evening the Solos' stable was empty and being cleaned.

"If you keep getting that look on your face Fiona, your complexion will suffer," Vaan stated coming up beside her.

Fiona carefully looked around then whispered, "the Solos must know things. Doril Hunley had a private meeting with the Headmaster this morning and now the stables are empty."

Vaan took her arm and moved her along, "Oh Fiona. You spend too much time over trivial things! Have you seen the cake the cook staff made for the dinner dessert? Its simply a masterpiece!"

After a few steps away Vaan spoke in a low voice, "there's more than that. All the unaffiliated Solos are ordering Armor made elsewhere. They had their measurements taken by the Academy outfitter, but no orders were placed through the Academy. Including shields. The closets in the Wardroom have seals of some kind placed."

"Gods," Fiona whispered. "They must all be convinced something is going on."

"Yes and that they are supposed to be on the receiving end of it. I don't think measures of this severity have been done before," Vaan admitted.

Fiona stopped, "I'm going into the village."

"As you see fit Fiona," Vaan nodded to her and watched her leave.

An hour later Fiona found Doril Hunley at the tavern she knew he had been staying at since coming to the Academy.

"Solo Hunley," Fiona said and sat down across from him.

Doril looked up, "something you want Doucet?"

Fiona nodded, "answers."

The First Regiment Solo pushed his finished dinner plate aside.

"The Solos have removed their horses from the stable. Even the First and Second years. All the unaffiliated have had armor measurements taken but none ordered through the Academy and the closets in the Wardroom have some kind of seal on them. I asked at the local armorers. No orders have been placed through them. All this is making me nervous. Like you suspect something," Fiona listed. "Solo Hunley is there something going on I should be aware of?"

Doril sat there looking her blandly.

"What will this get me," Fiona asked and placed five coins on the table.

"The stables and Wardroom have been compromised. We're protecting our horses and armor. Those that don't have personal armor are ordering through a service. That armor will be secured as well. Goodbye Doucet," Doril stated and took the coins.

"May I barter," Fiona asked.

Doril shrugged.

Fiona said in a low voice, "bring your own drinks during the Tournament."

"Make your own meals the day before and during," he replied then got up to leave. "Doucet. Trust nobody, hire or send home for squires."

Phoebe and Daalumos could see the flames of torches in the distance as they rode close to the battle that had been going on for the better part of the day.

"Pity we missed the beginning," Daalumos remarked.

Phoebe replied, "its still going. We take what we can get. Now we get only the strong. This may work out better!"

A moment later the bound demon tore into the fray. Instantly fear began to flow into Phoebe as she was recognized. Fear that turned into terror as Daalumos let out and unearthly shriek. The rage and murderous intent flowed into him. Phoebe took their terror and sent it back out which returned even stronger.

"I AM THE NIGHTMARE RIDER," Phoebe shouted. "I HAVE COME FOR YOU!"

The foot-soldiers and remaining knights were horror-struck at her confirmation. They had started their battle late in the day in an attempt to prevent her appearance but the battle had lingered past nightfall. Now they would face her regardless of intentions. Many tried to retreat but found their route suddenly cut off by a wall of flames. The mortals shrank back from the heat and crackling sound, convinced the illusion was real. They came to the conclusion the only way out now was through her and charged to attack.

The BloodLust reared up on his hind legs and leaped forward, "YES FOOLS! COME UNTO US! KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!"

Daalumos had fed their rage and was now taking in the magnified intent. He stayed in constant motion, culling and herding new targets into the range of Phoebe's sword and his own hooves.

"BRING HER DOWN! ATTACK HER BEAST," Someone called out.

Following the orders many did so only to find the spears would not penetrate and swords merely glanced off.

"Take them," Phoebe ordered Daalumos then bailed off his back.

The mortal combatants thought they now had her in the most vulnerable position, afoot. They were so very wrong. Her advantage was even greater now. Phoebe charged into the onslaught, like a boulder rolled down into the surf, and broke their oncoming wave. The sword of Vulcan's blade took on a glow as it sliced and smashed into shields, swords, armor and even bodies. The BloodLust was having his own time, inciting attack and making minimum effort to push them back only to attack again. It wasn't long and they began to attack each other for getting in the way of attacks. They had become blinded by frustrated rage. Anything that got within range became a victim.

Phoebe called out, "MORE! FIGHT YOU FOOLS! THIS NIGHT HAS ONLY BEGUN!"

It didn't take long. With Phoebe in front of them, an encroaching wall of fire behind and comrades falling all around; terror soon reigned supreme. Many began to succumb to the visions dancing before their eyes. Each man's deepest fears began to surface. They could see them take form and come out of the fire and approach. It was all an illusion though, only in their fear ravaged minds. Phoebe and Daalumos continued to rampage within their claimed area. Those outside the illusion wall of fire were still gripped with fear and struggled to make their way to safety with the withdrawing forces.

Phoebe looked over to Daalumos as they stood alone on the battlefield now.

"That was good," Phoebe said, still feeling power flowing into her.

The BloodLust chuckled, "delightful!"

Phoebe took several shield and used her sword to wipe them of device then inscribe her own. She affixed them to discarded swords or broken lances then searched for coins and bagged them up. After slinging the bags over her shoulder she climbed back onto Daalumos' back and rode away. They stopped at the new temple being built and left one of the bags that she hastily drew her symbol on.

"Does it make a difference if you give offerings to your own temple," Daalumos asked.

Phoebe replied, "of course. It pays for the temple to be completed."

The bound demon laughed, "you could have said anything else and I would not have been surprised!"

Daalumos trotted away, carrying Phoebe. Within minutes they were back at their home.

The next day started with the posting of the selection list. It was done during breakfast so the Headmaster announced after the majority had finished eating. Many rushed to look. It was easy to tell who held confidence as they took their time to avoid the rush. It was when several started to return with disappointed looks that the rest made their way to the notice board. The crowd of students parted when word that Fiona doucet was approaching.

"Thank you." Fiona smiled as she went to the board then began to announce, "Myself, Prince Vaan Arento, Jeffries Talfar, Eaton Laanower, Doril Hunley, Goron Favell, Danze Marow, Bron Zako, Fay Merfin, Dirk Sharvot, Lara Tarika, Moor Falek, Bon Loreen, Kern Winnower. Those are the Fourth years. Third years are; Patrick Fotens, no surprise there. Hensee Rassan, Jessica Weyden, Ponz Gerrare, Den Irth, Aruna Moning, Dagar Voluntas, Lyl Matrileek, Norr Luunos, Klin Makaal, Hirz Kez, Sera Arden, Ben Surlaang, Del Ekato, Hevrin Aulder, Debrie Beom and Ziekell Loxtonia. That's it. Those are the Selections."

Several murmured in disappointment, other congratulated those they had been sure of.

Fiona addressed everyone, "Selects; congratulations. For those that did not, please show your support. Third years, you now know you will have to work harder next year. Second and First years; I hope this inspires you in your own training. Also for you Third years, your performance can influence your support in the upcoming election at the end of term. I hope my successor does well. That's all. The bells about to chime."

The crowd began to dispersed. All the students knew the order was determined by points acquired. By the end of the day the betting lists would be started and by morning there would be initial odds. Gambling wasn't a secret, in fact it was very out in the open. Of course there were several official bookmakers and all of the taverns took small wagers. Both students, faculty and staff were allowed to bet. In fact sometimes the placement of the bets influenced the odds greatly.

Just as classes for the day were about to end notes arrived to each Select. Minutes later they filtered into the Dining hall and sat at tables as the Headmaster stood by waiting. When the last arrived and was seated the Headmaster began to hand out sheets.

"Those of you that have been to Tournament before know about this. The first sheet are the rules, none of which should be foreign to you. The same rules that apply during training, apply during Tournament. Any breach will result in disqualification, you will also be EXPELLED immediately. The second page are special instructions," the Headmaster explained.

They all began to shuffle pages and read.

The Headmaster took up a page and read aloud, "competitors will provide two squires for their events. Squires may be selected from the student body or hired. Staff, faculty and other competitors are excluded. Family retainers are acceptable."

Doril Hunley stood up, "It has already been agreed that the competing Solos are employing underclass Solos."

"Acceptable as always Solo Hunley," the Headmaster replied then continued. "All competitors will be responsible for their personal equipment, including mounts. Your armor, shields, horses; care and maintenance are your own responsibility."

Several nodded acceptance.

"Lances for events will be supplied by the Academy and are of regulation competition standard. Lances from outside vendors are not allowed and their use will be grounds for disqualification. Battle lances are forbidden and their use will result in disqualification and expulsion," The Headmaster said slowly and clearly.

One of the Third years stood up, "Headmaster; will we be required to purchase our lances from the Academy for Tournament?"

The Headmaster shook his head, "no. The lances are provided at no charge."

"Sorry for asking such an obvious question, but I had to be sure. Lances can get expensive," the Third year sat back down.

"This is your first time and the question was sensible. One last thing. Since not all live in the dorms, all competitors will be responsible for providing their own meals and especially drinks the day of Tournament. For those not in residence, Solos of the Second Battalion will be stationed at their billeting and be escorted to the event by Second Regiment. There will be NO outside influences," the Headmaster stated firmly.

That message was clear. Any attempt to prevent a competitor from attending the event would be met with extreme force.

"If there are no other questions," the Headmaster asked and when none were voiced he nodded to them. "Good day."

Everyone adjourned. Some to breathe a sigh of relief, others to softly curse their frustration.
 
 
 
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Chapter 14 of     The Nightmare Rider

Sir Belvin saw Vaan Arento and Fiona Doucet walking together. That was nothing new. As they drew closer he heard their conversation.

"Vaan I don't think its such a good idea," Fiona remarked.

The Prince laughed, "oh Fiona don't be so boring! I think its a MARVELOUS idea. I really could do with the practice. I know your style too well now. Hiring a Solo for sword practice is brilliant idea."

Sir Belvin cleared his throat and both turned to see him.

"Sir Belvin! Please talk some sense in the Prince," Fiona asked.

The jousting instructor glanced at them both and sighed, "from the beginning."

Prince Vaan smiled broadly, "its been some time since I've done some proper sword training. The problem is that Fiona and I have sparred so many times, we know each other's style too well. I think hiring a Solo to spar with would be good training."

"Well all dueling has been suspended but training is another matter. Hiring a Solo actually makes sense, it removes all doubts. Very well Prince Arento. But this training will have to be supervised. I'll watch over it," Sir Belvin stated.

"Excellent! See Fiona? Now to find a Solo that would be accommodating," Vaan said then looked around. Suddenly he smiled even bigger, "SOLO FOTENS! WHAT TIMING!"

Patrick turned around, "Arento."

Vaan Arento practically bounded over to the Solo, "Solo Fotens I have a wonderful proposal for you!"

"Arento it doesn't matter how much money you pay; I can't get you pregnant," Patrick commented with a deadpan expression.

The flamboyant prince froze, "URK!"

The Jousting instructor pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut to maintain some semblance of composure. Fiona snorted then fell to the floor laughing.

After a couple of moments Vaan looked at him, "I really walked right into that one. Didn't I?"

Sir Belvin could help it anymore and laughed, "no you BARRELED into it!"

"I did. Solo Fotens if being a Solo ever goes in the toilet, you'll make a fortune in comedy," Vaan admitted.

Patrick shook his head, "never happen. I don't the talent for it. I only have road wit. That's what they call the humorous remark one thinks of after everybody leaves and your on your way home. I supposed you royals call it carriage wit."

Vaan perked up, "you mean there's actually a name for THAT?"

Fiona had calmed down some and was now trying to salvage her make-up, "I've never laughed so hard! That was PERFECT!"

The Prince did his best to recover, "let me rephrase; I'd like to hire you as a sparring partner for some sword training."

"That is possible. When," Patrick asked.

Vaan searched his jacket pocket and took out a few coins then handed them to him, "Sir Belvin said he would referee. How about now?"

"I have a few minutes," Patrick replied and took the coins.

Patrick used his thumb to flick the sword from the scabbard then pulled it free. Done so fast, the sword appeared to literally jump to his hand. The prince drew his own sword and edged back in surprise. Even the Jousting instructor was startled.

"This is sparring only. There are to be no injuries. Disarmed or yield. If an injury occurs, I will stop the session. You may proceed," Sir Belvin stated then backed away.

Jessica looked up, "what?"

"Prince Vaan and Patrick Fotens are about to duel! Hurry up," Aruna Moning called from the doorway then ran off.

Jessica and Lamia both jumped up and chased after the Duchess. Moments later they heard a clash of swords and turned the corner. There they found a crowd forming fast.

Jessica saw Fiona Doucet and went over to her, "what happened Countess?"

"What do you mean? The Prince bought some training time from Solo Fotens," Fiona stated.

Jessica watched intently. It didn't take but a few seconds to discern between the two. Vaan was highly agile and moved like the proficient dancer he was to parry or evade the Solo's sword. His attacks were direct and focused, aiming for the chest area. In short, a picture of graceful classic sword teachings. Precisely what one would expect of a royal or high noble.

Patrick on the other hand was something else entirely. His attack was pure kinetic transfer. It started from the ground and worked its way up his body to join the movement of his sword, adding leverage to the momentum and increasing the force. His body lowered to move into position then exploded into attack.

"That's pure Solo combat. He can fight for hours without tiring," Fiona whispered quietly to Jessica.

Jessica softly asked, "really? It looks like he's using his whole body."

Fiona nodded subtly, "he is. Instead of working only one part to exhaustion, he uses his whole body. That spreads the exertion out. Each part of his body moves a little, by the end of the motion the whole body has moved. That makes it look like a big movement. I hate to say it but Prince Vaan is going to be in big trouble soon. Vaan is everywhere, Fotens controls a small space."

Patrick diverted a thrust then used his blade to pull the sword further past before turning and driving the pommel into the prince's chest. Vaan let go of a whoosh of breath and quickly pulled his sword back to block Patrick's slash off of a backspin. Vaan leaped back then took two sliding steps forward as he slashed diagonally up then horizontally across. Patrick deflected the first and lowered himself to move in and catch the second flat. With the end braced to his forearm, Patrick moved in; again the sword was pulled past. Patrick now held his position.

"I have you," Patrick said flatly.

The prince quickly studied the positions of them both and sighed, "damn. You do. Point to Fotens."

The crowd members looked at each other, mostly in confusion, as the two slowly edged back from each other. Patrick had sheathed his sword then flexed his fingers. Vaan switched hands, flexed then switched back.

"Ready," the Prince nodded to Sir Belvin.

The instructor could tell by Patrick's casual stance that he too, was ready.

"Proceed," Sir Belvin called out.

Vaan bolted forward, leading with his sword. Once again Patrick thumbed the sword up then snatched it into a downward arc and deflected the thrust. Patrick crouched, turned into the deflection then leaned forward and pushed with his outer elbow. Arento found himself directed away from his opponent and now very vulnerable. Quickly he back-slashed to recover but Patrick was already there to capture the blade again. A slight shift and Vaan found himself off balanced. He dove to the side to escape the next attack and came up from a roll.

The desperate move took him out of Patrick's range. That was the upside. The downside was that it took him outside his out own attack range. He would have to move in again. Slowly the prince advanced. Patrick held his position; knees flexed, feet almost shoulder-width apart and right foot slightly angled onto the ball of the foot. Elbows tucked in close and blade upright at a diagonal with a back-tilt. Vaan came in, slip-changed his grip to drag-slash off a turn. The speed was good and his turn was firm. However it seemed that Patrick had read the intent to cross-step in. The Solo used the clash to provoke his own spin during which he turned his wrists over then extended himself at the locking of the finished turn.

Vaan watched in horror as Patrick had ended up swinging inside Vaan's sword then performed a slip-change grip then pull the sword back and stop just in front of the Prince's throat.

In a steady voice Patrick stated, "I have you."

Vaan slowly nodded, "I yield."

Slowly the swords withdrew again. Patrick sheathed his own.

"Time is up Arento," Patrick said then walked away. "You got what you paid for."

Vaan Arento sheathed his sword to mutter, "apparently I did. I'm going to fire my sword teacher back home."

"Go hit a shower Highness. He gave you a real workout," Sir Belvin said then walked off.

Vaan chuckled, "I'll do just that! Until later Fiona."

The prince left, leaving only Fiona and Jessica in the corridor.

"Let me get this right; Prince Vaan hired Solo Fotens for a duel that was actually training? Why would he do that," Jessica asked.

Fiona steered Jessica to walk down the corridor, "before you came here; how many times did you lose a sword match? A joust? Strike that. In the year leading up to you coming here, how many times?"

Jessica answered immediately, "none. Why do you mention it?"

"And in your first year here, how many times did you lose," Fiona asked.

"A lot," Jessica blinked then comprehension hit her. "You mean to tell me that that last year my teachers were losing intentionally?"

Fiona sighed, "its called currying Princess. The higher your status, the more it happens. Some do that here too. Sometimes its on their own, others because they have been instructed to."

"Solos don't do that. They can not be paid to fail. Gods, I am so stupid! Did I even actually earn my place in Selection," Jessica asked.

Fiona patted her shoulder, "relax. You earned your place, you aren't popular enough to be curried to. For once, being a bitch helped you. I am not encouraging you to revert back to it though."

"I felt so humiliated I didn't tell my parents how many times I was losing. I thought I would be shaming them and my teachers," Jessica admitted.

The Countess sighed, "you aren't the first and you definitely won't be the last. My parents taught me themselves. I never had that issue until I came here. When I came here I faced a lot of challenges. Some in your class are familiar with them. Pretty girls get challenged. I think you can figure out why."

Jessica nodded, "intimate reward."

Fiona leaned close and whispered, "one guy in the Tournament is going to challenge me for a kiss. Another wants my panties. So you see, even I still get them. Actually the ones I get are more brazen now."

"I feel so inept now," Jessica confided.

Fiona sighed, "if you want a real evaluation; ask Sir Belvin."

Jessica nodded and left.

Patrick saw Doril Hunley and Danze Marow standing outside the Solo Registrar waving to him. He brought Daemon to a stop by them.

"Waiting for me," Patrick asked.

The First Regiment Solo nodded, "come inside."

Patrick followed them in. Inside were seven Regimental Commanders. He recognized one immediately. The Commander of the Seventy-Fifth Regiment; Len Cardoon. Insignia's showed Commanders of the First, Fourth, Sixth, Tenth, Nineteenth, Fifty-Fifth and Eleventh Regiments. In short, the bulk of the Council plus one.

The group filed upstairs to a table and sat down.

"Solo Fotens. I understand you found the location that all enrolled Solos are currently using to secure their mounts. We've already been to speak with the owner. She has accepted the offer. Officially she is still the owner of the property, unofficially she is now in service to the Council itself," The Commander of First Regiment stated.

The Commander of the Fifth-Fifth Regiment was a woman that smiled, "you get a finders' fee. We also understand you paid a deposit. Add those together and you get a hundred coins. Payable immediately."

Patrick took out his ledger and brought up the contract. He sent it to the Council ledger, held by the First Regiment commander then accepted the small bag of coins.

The Commander of the Fourth Regiment spoke next, "it is our understanding that you are maintaining the Eighty-Sixth Regiment alone."

Patrick nodded, "that's correct."

"You are being officially listed as Commander of the Eighty-Sixth. There will be only two platoons. First Platoon consists of Yourself and whomever you wish to recruit. Second Platoon will consist of all unaffiliated Solos enrolled in the Academy until graduation. Essentially a training platoon. You will only be responsible for First Platoon. Second Platoon will be the responsibility of the Council," the Commander of the Nineteenth stated.

The Commander of the Fifty-Fifth amended, "however next year you will be in command of the enrolled Solos. As Hunley is this year."

Patrick looked as if he was about to dispute them.

The Tenth Regiment Commander held up his hand, "you are going to state that your fellow Third year, Hensee Rassan, would be the better choice due to academics."

Patrick nodded, "correct. His marks are higher."

"That is true but to discount your battle record would be to discredit you professionally. In full aspect, you stand above," the Sixth Regiment commander stated.

Doril Hunley agreed, "in truth you are the highest ranking Solo in the Academy. Your record surpasses all others, including my own. I know that the Solos will be in proper care after my graduation, with you in command. Care better than what I've provided."

"The title will be new but the position is the same. Actually it is a paid position. Not much but then its more of an administrative position. The downside to any command," Len Cardoon chuckled. It was agreed and chuckled to by the rest of the commanders.

Patrick reached over and took the commander's insignia and pinned it to his uniform.

"Starting next year all Solos will wear their Regimental uniforms. Those unaffiliated will wear those of the Eighty-Sixth Regiment, Second Platoon. We've already spoken with the Headmaster and it will be accepted. He even seemed to think that to do so may solve some problems in the future. He is more concerned with the present. As are we," The First Regiment commander stated.

The Nineteenth spoke up, "all signs are pointing to an element within the Academy making an attempt to influence Tournament results. All Solos will need shields that can use water-wrap. If any don't have, obtain them immediately through your regiments."

"Another thing. All the reports of this Nightmare Rider are in. She is a minor Goddess. From what we've been able to determine, she is the daughter of the God of Nightmares and Goddess of Punishment. She has appeared on our plane and is accumulating power. Her reasons are unknown. Any battle contracts taken will now have a stipulation that excludes engaging her. So far she has shown that she will not engage hired troops if they withdraw," the Commander of the Fourth Regiment stated. "this may go against norm, but you do encounter her, withdraw. If she demands any contact, be respectful. Her true name is Phoebe."

The First Regiment commander asked, "is there anything else? No? Then we adjourn. Commander Fotens."

All the other Commanders nodded and acknowledged his new rank then left. Doril and Danze both saluted him as well.

"I think it would be better to keep this confidential until after Tournament," Patrick suggested.

Doril nodded, "agreed. If it were revealed now it would paint a bigger target on you. Only the three of us and the Headmaster will know. However armor and shields need to be ordered. I have all the sizes. I'll order them in the Eighty-Sixth's colors and have them delivered here. The armor will be owned by the Second Platoon for use by the enrolled Solos with no affiliation. All shields will be able to use water-wrap."

"Good," Patrick said. "I'll be on my way."

Both nodded and watched him go.

Daalumos looked over as Phoebe stepped into their hidden room, "you seem to be out of sorts. Has your princess reconsidered that contract? The one about conceiving your child?"

"No. I had a meeting with the majority of the Council of Regiments. I've been named Commander of the Eighty-Sixth," Phoebe informed him then relayed the rest of the meeting.

The BloodLust chuckled, "so; after all your hard work to remain aloof and detached. You've managed to be saddled with responsibility for the younger ones. Amusing. If they consisted of all girls and fawned over you constantly, it would be laughable! Pity."

"Only Doucet would enjoy something like that. Or Arento," Phoebe remarked.

Daalumos chuckled, "ah yes. Those two. I do find them amusing. They put on quite the elaborate displays. I am surprised they are not intimate. Many of the young ones have remarked that the two would make a fine pairing."

"If they are intending to become a couple, they've been keeping it a secret. Even from the staff. She may be in an arrangement that she dislikes," Phoebe speculated.

"The trials and tribulations of mortals! Sometimes its detestable and other times its highly entertaining," Daalumos laughed.

Phoebe sighed, "I suppose so. Much different from the workings of the Underworld. Its fairly straight forward there, fight to claim and fight to keep. No allies, everyone for themselves."

Daalumos tossed his head in agreement, " true. But there is no worship in Underworld. Without worship there is not enough power. Without power one will not have enough strength to claim anything."

Phoebe frowned, "true. I have bad news for us. There has been an cease of mortal hostilities for the immediate time. Everyone is focusing on Tournament. I recall the same thing happened the past two years. We'll rest and relax for now."

"I could venture back into the Underworld and investigate. We've been away for a while without any contact. We should be more aware of the actions," Daalumos suggested.

Phoebe considered it then nodded, "yes. You may go for a few mortal days. While you are there you may assume whatever form you think will go unnoticed. Return as my steed in a few days."

The bound demon disappeared in a rush of flame.

"That deals with his boredom. He'll be able to find plenty to feed upon there for a while. I do need the information though. Being here on the mortal plane hides me from awareness. By staying out of actual dreams my father ignores me. Reacting to offences, instead of actively pursuing, allows me to go unnoticed by my mother," Phoebe stated to herself.

Slowly she let her eyes drift closed and soon slept.

Headmaster,
It has come to my attention that some nobles and especially some royals are entering the Academy with false expectations of themselves. To be more specific; they have suffered courtly favoring. These unfortunate and unsuspecting victims are being convinced of a false standard. I myself was subjected to such. I came to the Academy with a false sense of superiority. When I met with those held to higher standards I felt disheartened and ashamed. I hid that from my family out of embarrassment. This affected me in other ways as well. I became spiteful and belligerent towards my peers. I now am fully aware of the wrongness of that. Could there be some form of evaluation upon admittance to the Academy? I believe the adjustment would be more acceptable if reality was faced on Day One, rather than enduring confusion and dismay continually. I also believe that parents, of any class, would much rather hear of constant improvement instead of bland remarks to mask misunderstood failure by their children. I regret not being forthcoming with my own. Please do whatever you are able to prevent the repetition of a mistake I myself made. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
H.R.H. Jessica Weyden
Crowned Princess of Lurbourg

Jessica read the letter then carefully folded and tucked it into an envelope. She used her seal on the flap then sat back. Several crumpled attempts littered the desk. She gathered them up and tossed into the wastebasket. A knock at her door interrupted any other thoughts before they began.

"Come in," Jessica called out.

Lamia Tuala entered, "you disappeared. I was worried."

Jessica glanced out the window, "you missed dinner didn't you?"

"Yes. I was looking for you," Lamia admitted.

Jessica nodded, "run go change and I'll meet you downstairs. Don't wear anything that immediately identifies you and use the back stairs. I'll call for our horses."

Fifteen minutes later Lamia did a double-take. Jessica was wearing a plain black jacket with a green blouse and skirt with black pumps. Her sword had no ornament. Again she wore barely any make-up and no nail polish with her hair loose and barely styled. Before Lamia could say anything Jessica brought her finger up to lips and shook her head.

"Let's go," Jessica said quietly.

They mounted their horses and rode out through a side gate. It took longer but Jessica directed them to the village further away. The one they rarely went to. Lamia was confused but followed her friend's lead and found herself taken down a side street to a tavern with a sign merely depicting a cup and a plate. Inside there were a few people, None looked to be knights or infantry of any kind. In fact, none wore any swords. Jessica led them over to a table toward the back and sat down.

"What's going on," Lamia whispered.

Jessica frowned, "I don't want to be me right now. Don't use any titles."

"Alright. Jess. Is something going on," Lamia asked.

They were interrupted by a young barmaid that gave a half smile, "what can I get you?"

Jessica looked up, "two dinners. Juice for the drinks."

The barmaid nodded and left, "back in a minute."

"You're pretending to be a Solo," Lamia whispered.

Jessica nodded slightly, "sort of. I don't have a crest so nobody will know for sure if I am or not."

The barmaid came back and set the plates down and glasses.

Jessica pulled out some coins and set them on the table toward her, "that about right?"

"Yes Ma'am! Let me know when you're ready for dessert. Its chocolate cake," The barmaid told them with a smile.

"We'll do that," Jessica said then turned back to Lamia after the barmaid happily went back to the bar. "I was a horrible person Lamia. When I came to the Academy I thought I was invincible. My sword and jousting tutors faked my abilities. I was nowhere near what I needed to be when I was admitted."

Lamia blinked, "they were currying favor?"

"That's how it seems. Vaan dueled Fotens. Fotens won. I mean he practically walked all over him. That happened to me when I first came. It was like, they took enjoyment at bringing me down. Even more at keeping me down. I know a lot have been holding back this year. They want to be underestimated at Tournament. It gives them an edge," Jessica explained.

Lamia thought about that for moment, "you think you'll be at a big disadvantage?"

Jessica sighed, "I'm thinking that I'm incredibly lucky my mother allowed the contract with Fotens to be bought out."

"Well that's obvious," Lamia said then looked apologetic. "No offense, but he did take you down very hard. Twice. I don't see you winning against him. In fact, I don't remember seeing him lose."

"Fotens wins because he is better. He's very experienced. Vaan isn't taking him lightly," Jessica confided.

Lamia sipped her juice thoughtfully then asked, "have you noticed that all the Solos are acting strange? They took all their horses out, they aren't going into the Wardroom at all anymore. Even in the corridors they're not talking. They just look at each other. I saw one nod to the other and got a nod back. Not like they were saying hello to each other. More like they were trying to say something without anybody knowing they did."

"Lamia don't take this the wrong way, but I think it might be a good thing that you didn't make selection this year. I think some people are going to get hurt. People like me. Especially people like the Solos," Jessica speculated.

Lamia Tuala leaned forward, "that doesn't explain why we're here like this."

"Fiona and Vaan are nervous. The Solos are more guarded than usual. Lamia, everyone is acting strange now. I brought us here like this to have a moment to ourselves. Just a little while to relax," Jessica said.

The barmaid came over and picked up their finished dinner plates while setting out the slices of cake for them along with fresh glasses of juice. When they finished Jessica caught the barmaid's attention and set three more coins on the table with a nod of approval then she and Lamia left.

After clearing the village border Lamia asked, "when you went with Solo Fotens; did something happen between you two?"

Jessica nodded, "not what you think. He showed me reality. Things aren't as simple as I thought they were. I couldn't be a Solo. I'd go crazy. Lamia I want you to be one of my squires. I'll send home for another. I have a really bad feeling."

Sometime later they re-entered through the same side gate then dropped off the horses at the stables then went inside. Jessica soon had a letter composed to her mother and dropped in the out-going slot. She dropped the letter to the Headmaster in his office slot.

Meanwhile in the dimly lit Royals' Wardroom, Fiona Doucet held up a torso plate.

"Its been weakened. Someone applied a chemical to it. This Armor will fail on contact," the Headmaster stated while inspecting it closely. "Check the others. NOW! Prince Vaan, you will have to obtain new armor. I suggest you contract Solo Hunley about that in the morning."
 
 
 
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Chapter 15 of     The Nightmare Rider

Daalumos stood on the edge of a plain watching a minor skirmish. Lower Demons that were vying for dominance over each other.

"With no gifted weapons, they could be at this for years. They'll grow bored eventually," the BloodLust surmised then wandered on.

He had took on a more common form for a Demon when he arrived back in the Underworld. Remaining in the horse form would have been conspicuous. Using the common form allowed him to pass relatively without regard. Not unnoticed, but with less notice. Only a God, Goddess or another Lust would know what he was. Lusts usually avoided each other, just in case they were of the same kind. For the most part he simply wandered the fringes of populated areas and listened. Words spoken in anger tended to be more true in the Underworld. Hostility equated to honesty there, calmness were the hallmarks of calculation and deception. In short, the only time one could be trusted; was when they were trying to destroy someone.

"Why do you return," a voice asked.

Daalumos felt angry Divinity coming in waves from the cloaked and hooded figure.

He tilted his head in puzzlement, "return?"

The hood was pushed back to reveal the face of a harsh woman, "you are bound to Phoebe of Nightmares, Lust. I know you are in her service."

"Poena the Punisher," Daalumos said in recognition.

Slowly she approached, "you will not be so foolish as to try using your power on me, Lust. Why do you return?"

"Curiosity. Why do You ask," Daalumos asked.

Poena stated, "you serve Phoebe, yet Phoebe is with the Mortals and you are here, Lust."

Daalumos tilted his head, "this is true. You ask as if my Mistress is of concern to Yourself. We do not indulge in Your pursuits."

"I am aware of Phoebe's pursuits. I birthed her, Lust. Do not forget that," Poena reminded.

The bound Demon nodded, "I forget nothing Punisher. If You are indeed aware of my Mistress' pursuits as You say, then You have no reason to concern Yourself."

Poena glared, "you are being obstinate Lust."

"I do not serve you Punisher. I merely find your questioning irrelevant. You are Poena and my Mistress is Phoebe. She has no interest in Your pursuits and You have no interest in Hers. There is no conflict so I see no reason to provide Yourself with answers to questions that are not Your concern," Daalumos stated.

Poena was about to counter but the BloodLust cut her off, "unless You are wishing to make Yourself Her concern. My Mistress would not like Yourself to be poking into Her affairs. She is not a Demi-Goddess. Phoebe's affairs are Her own and have nothing to do with Yourself. You want something for nothing. Something that is not of your concern."

Finally Poena reached into the cloak and then threw down a bag that jingled, "a payment then Lust."

Daalumos took the bag and checked inside to find it filled with Underworld coins, "very well Punisher. My Mistress seeks knowledge of Phoetor."

"Only Phoetor," Poena asked.

Daalumos laughed as he walked around the Goddess then leaned over her shoulder, "my Mistress has no interest in You at all Punisher. None at all."

"None," Poena asked in puzzlement.

Daalumos chuckled as he began to walk away, "You presumed too much Punisher. You have nothing She wants."

"You want to order new armor in your colors through First Regiment," Doril Hunley asked.

Vaan Arento nodded, "No. I want to obtain a new set from home through your channels. I simply need First Regiment to secure that transport of that armor. My current set of armor has been compromised. "

The Solo remarked, "you seemed to be surprised about that. Someone else would ask why that is."

"And you won't because you know why," the Prince stated with sarcasm then hit full comprehension.

The Solo has sold his information to warn them since he was unable to stop the culprit. There was still time to counter the threat. In fact there would still be enough time to counter it in two more days.

Vaan sighed and began to reach into his jacket pocket, "how much to find out who?"

"The information is not at my disposal," Hunley replied.

Vaan pulled out a handful of coins and counted out twenty and set them in front of the Solo, "I want to know what you know."

"Non-regulation lances, horse sabotage, compromised armors, tainted water and meals. All Solos are targeted along with all royals and the student council President. That is what I have currently," Doril listed. "Medical records may have been compromised as well."

Vaan was very quick to understand that part. Injuries sustained due to training and previous Tournaments would be in those files. Injuries that could be exploited to cause failure and forfeiture. The mentioning of the lances was also significant. A non-regulation lance would result in a harder impact. Harder impact would cause, or aggravate a previous, injury.

Distraction immediately appeared in the form of Patrick Fotens.

"Ah! Solo Fotens," Vaan said and gave a smile.

Patrick nodded, "Arento. Hunley."

Doril gave a steady nod, "Fotens. Arento has a problem."

"Is he contracting a service," Patrick asked.

The Prince picked up the subtle change in attitude. He had wanted to keep the matter confidential, but Doril was now acting as if obligated to have Patrick Fotens informed.

Patrick nodded then asked, "are you able to accommodate?"

"I can. The service will not require me to leave and be concluded in three days," Doril informed him.

"Then its all you. Anything else," Patrick asked.

The First Regiment Solo shook his head, "that's it."

Patrick nodded and continued on about his business. Vaan was now very curious.

"Might I ask what that was all about Solo Hunley," the Prince asked.

Doril nodded, "I graduate this year and will be leaving. Fotens will be the ranking Solo. All activities will be going through him, as they have been through me. Contracts through Regiments will be handled in the manner they always have been but independent contracts, such as yours, will be overseen by the ranking Solo. Fotens will be that ranking Solo. Nothing different as far as things go."

Vaan considered that for a moment, "I actually wasn't aware of that."

Doril sighed, "Arento there are a lot things the student body in general aren't aware. One of them is that though I may have Seniority, Patrick Fotens has outranked me since his first day at the Academy. Technically he was supposed to be in my position. It was agreed that my experience here made me better suited. This year has been the exception, not the standard. Next year will be back to standard with changes."

Vaan added two coins to the ones in his hand, "such as?"

"All Solos will be wearing Regimental colors. Some are taking a temporary affiliation during their time at the Academy. Internal matters that concern the Solos; not the student body," Doril stated. "Now back your matter. Meet me at the Solo Registrar during lunch."

Vaan handed over the coins and left to go about his business.

"Wonder when he's going to stop playing the fop. I still find it hard to believe there are some around here that actually fall for it," Doril Hunley remarked to himself as he went to class.

Jessica looked to the Countess, "you mean my armor wasn't tampered with at all?"

"I'm afraid so Highness. I suspect you are being set up or have not been deemed a serious enough threat. However I believe it to be prudent to secure new armor from home just in case. Prince Vaan is doing the same," Fiona stated.

Jessica then looked frightened, "what about the Nobles? The Solos?"

Fiona patted her shoulder, "the Solos are looking after themselves. In fact it was because of them that I began to suspect something. I think they made certain movements in effort to BE obvious something was going on."

"The Solos are acting guarded. Secretive even. Have they said anything to you," Jessica asked.

Fiona sighed, "trust around here shouldn't be taken for granted. Princess, as someone who cares, it is time to become cautious. There are many who have things riding on this Tournament, besides standings. You almost did too."

Fiona said that last part with emphasis and Jessica didn't miss the meaning. She didn't miss the deeper meaning. Fiona herself had a similar problem. How she fared in Tournament would determine her own outcome.

"Fiona I'm so sorry you've been tricked into such a position," Jessica tried to console her.

Fiona shook her head, "I set the terms Highness."

"YOU," Jessica exclaimed in disbelief.

The Countess nodded, "Highness, Jessica, not everyone can be told 'no' outright. There times when a young woman must take her future into her own hands and give over to her skills and abilities."

The Princess thought about that. She walked a few steps away, back then away again before turning back, "but some can't afford to take the chance their's are better. They have to be ensured of total victory. They have the most to lose or gain with the results."

Fiona arched an eyebrow, "it seems your time in Solo Fotens charge did more than calm your temper. Keep going Highness."

"It can't be something so simple as a marital arrangement. Nor business. No Countess, this is more than that. This is also a personal statement. That rules do not apply to them. They are above everything. This may also be about retaliation. Armor that fails on the first contact; even the strongest opponent will be made vulnerable," Jessica said aloud but talking more to herself.

Fiona's eyes narrowed, "but why omit someone? You."

"Because I will lose to others since I have lost before. I'm not taken seriously. The Solos are stronger than me. They can change everything. Solos can not be paid into lower performance, they are a threat. People constantly think Vaan is an airhead until he gets in the saddle, he is a threat. You've been unbeatable all year, you are a very big threat. Bad armor can't be the only thing they're trying to do," Jessica said then exclaimed. "THE HORSES!"

Fiona nodded for her to continue.

"The Solos pulled all their horses! If they suspected one horse of being tampered with they'd switch, that makes sense. All their horses would have to be tampered with to give them no choice. That's why the Solos pulled all their horses out! It won't be enough though. All but one of the Solos in the Tournament are affiliated so they keep their armor with them and only wear Academy armor for training. During Tournament their wear their own! THE SOLOS ARE THE BIGGEST THREAT OF ALL TO THIS PERSON," Jessica concluded.

Fiona then asked, "and who has had two dramatic run-in's with Solos?"

"Me! I've been butting heads with them since day one here! Everyone has known of my hatred for them. I'M THE SCAPEGOAT," Jessica stated.

Fiona leaned in, "and now you know why I've brought all this to your attention."

Jessica asked angrily, "who is behind this?"

"GOOD question," Fiona replied. "I'm starting to think that anything obvious should not be trusted at all. You're change of attitude is very recent and not widely known. Some in your class doubt that you are being genuine."

"I guess that shouldn't be a surprise," Jessica lamented then noticed Fiona's expression change. "What?"

Fiona mused, "that may be something that can be used to advantage. I think I have an idea."

"He'll see you now," the secretary said and nodded to the door.

Patrick went inside, closing the door behind him.

"Commander Fotens," the Headmaster greeted him.

Patrick nodded, "Headmaster. I'm still acclimating to the rank."

The old man nodded back, "you're a professional; I've no doubt you'll adapt. I won't waste your time Commander."

Patrick watched as he stacked up several coins on his desk slowly.

"I have a problem that needs to be looked into. I want to contract you for two reasons. Firstly; you are the highest ranking Solo in the area. Secondly; your record is exemplary. You've never failed to carry out an assignment," the Headmaster stated.

"What is your request Headmaster," Patrick asked formally.

The Headmaster leaned forward, "someone is trying to influence the Tournament. Find out who and bring me proof."

"I've done reconnaissance assignments before, but this would be my first investigation. There are others more qualified in that field," Patrick stated.

"Are you declining Commander Fotens," the Headmaster asked.

Patrick stood his ground, "informing you of my experience and verifying you wish to proceed in an informed manner."

The Headmaster nodded, "I understand. Very professional. I am informed and do wish to proceed."

"This contract will be verbal and payment only upon satisfactory completion; one hundred and thirty coins. These are my terms," Patrick said.

"Results no later than the day before. These are my terms. Agreed," the Headmaster asked.

"Agreed. Headmaster," Patrick said then left.

Alone now the Headmaster looked at the door the young Solo Commander just exited, "very clever taking the assignment as a verbal contract. Anyone that ever goes through his ledger will never know he conducted the investigation. Any information I receive will for all intensive purposes be anonymous. No political fallout. The previous Commander taught him better than anyone suspects."

That night Patrick used the Cloak of Shadows. The cloak allowed him to step out of a shadow inside the supply shop in the village. Quietly he began to look through the receipts. Tucked in the back of the file was the one he was looking for. The order for five lances in Academy colors. Four were composite, one was a battle lance. The name on the receipt didn't look familiar so it was carefully tucked inside his jacket.

Doril Hunley provided him the chest-piece of Vaan Arento's armor. It took some doing but with the assistance of an armorer that only served Solos, they were able to determine which chemical had been used. That became his next task. Of the five Armorers in the area anyone could go to he found the chemical in one shop. Unfortunately there was no receipt. The chemical had either been stolen or sold secretly by an apprentice. The stairs began to squeak. Someone was coming downstairs.

Patrick had a choice; hide, escape or confront. He made his decision and stood casually leaning against the wall.

The Smith gained the floor and made for the kitchen but stopped. He felt like he was being watched.

Quickly he turned and flipped on the light, "WHO'S THERE?"

"Someone with questions ArmorSmith. Very serious questions," Patrick replied to the startled man.

"You're a Solo. I've seen you before. Why are you sneaking around in my shop," the Smith asked with clear agitation.

Patrick pointed to a shelf, "that. Yours is the only shop that uses Kressium Acid."

The Smith growled, "yeah. So?"

Patrick closed on the big man, "so someone has sprayed Kressium Acid on the armor of several Selections for Tournament. You received a case last week and have already gone through five of the ten bottles. Your receipts only show two sets of armor in for repairs that would require use of such chemical. That's three bottles gone without reason."

Undisguised surprise turned to anger, "are you saying I supplied somebody the bottles to influence Tournament?"

Patrick stood still without confirming or denying the statement.

"No way would I do that! I'd lose my license and be run out of the village! I'd never work again," the Smith protested then froze. "Damn it!"

Quickly he waved to Patrick, "follow me!"

Patrick followed him back upstairs then into a room that he slammed the door open.

"GET UP! YOU HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO," the Smith demanded to a young man a few years older than Patrick.

The startled young man looked around, "I-I don't know what you mean Sir."

The Smith hauled him up by his shirt, "three bottles of acid are missing that I didn't use and now a Solo is here asking about them! You came into some money to have a wild time over the weekend, WHO DID YOU SELL THOSE BOTTLES TO?"

"A-a guy at the Academy! A Noble! He didn't give his name. Just offered me three times what the bottles cost. I thought if I bought three more on the next order and paid for them myself you wouldn't notice," the Apprentice confessed.

"What did he look like," Patrick asked calmly.

Fearfully the Apprentice answered, "sh-short brown hair. A goatee. His jacket was green. Green and white with gold."

"I should throw you out into the streets," the Smith snarled.

Patrick held up his hand, "Tomorrow morning report this to the Headmaster during breakfast. Take him with you to identify the Noble. Say nothing of my involvement. Follow my instruction and you will be absolved of any wrongdoing. How you handle your business is up to you. Apprentice, reveal me and I will come for you."

"Yes Sir," the Apprentice said woefully.

Patrick then left through a door. One problem solved, one pending and two left.

The Headmaster and Sir Belvin were both surprised when Patrick Fotens asked them to join him at the armory. Breakfast was still twenty minutes from being served.

"Alright Fotens. We're here," Sir Belvin said after letting them inside.

Patrick went to the lance room. Lances had already been set aside and tagged for Tournament use. the two men followed him.

"Five lances have been ordered and collected in the Academy colors. The name on the receipt does not match any student, faculty or staff. Please check each tagged lance to verify they are regulation COMPETITION lances," Patrick said.

Sir Belvin began to check. It took just over five minutes to find them. They were all for the same person. A third year named Bon Loreen.

"Gentry Loreen will have to be disqualified," the Headmaster stated.

"Agreed. This is beyond blatant," Sir Belvin remarked hotly.

Patrick was standing to the side, "solve one problem. Give opportunity to create another with less time to discover and solve it."

"What are you suggesting Commander Fotens," the Headmaster asked.

Patrick stepped forward, "make his first opponent be me. I can bring him down and with that all his lances are taken out of service by Sir Belvin personally. There is a staff assisting. That's the only way the lances could be in here already. If Sir Belvin removes them personally the problem is solved."

"And if he uses the battle lance on you," Sir Belvin asked.

Patrick looked non-plussed, "it won't be an issue. Make the arrangement. Loreen against me, the very first match. Another problem is going to be resolved very soon and very public."

"Very well Commander. I'd say we're done here for now. I have the feeling that we should get to the Dining hall and linger about today," the Headmaster remarked.

Half an hour later, Patrick's advice seemed prophetic. A local ArmorSmith and his Assistant were shown in. Within minutes Lord Del Ekato was summoned to the corridor. Seconds later the yelling began then stopped. The young Noble did not return to the hall nor was he seen in any classes that day. Only the Faculty knew by late afternoon; he was seen leaving with his belongings under guard by Solos of the Second Regiment. None would say anything.

Patrick stood in the Headmaster's office after classes.

"So the bulk of the problems are now solved," the Headmaster remarked.

Patrick asked him, "do you trust your eyes and ears?"

The Headmaster shrugged, "I've never had any reason not to."

"I'm giving you reason now. We've uncovered and negated angles of the attack. Not the instigator. Neither of those two would take those measures of their own volition. They were bribed or blackmailed. This isn't over," Patrick said.

The headmaster sighed, "and here I thought I was going to be paying you today."

"The staff members that are facilitating assistance will not reveal either. If they were not blackmailed to begin with, they will be. The fact that they conspired against so many would bring a myriad of charges. They would never see the outside world again. The fact that it could also include Regicide only makes it worse. Some kingdoms mark that as a death sentence," Patrick stated the obvious.

Sir Belvin agreed, "very true. We may have to wait until the break and contract the Fourth Battalion to interview the staff."

The Headmaster took that into consideration. The Solos of the Fourth Battalion were intelligence experts. Fotens was only one person, though he had achieved sound results so far.

"Very well. Commander Fotens I am satisfied. The contract is settled. If you come across anything more I consider it extra and will pay a bonus. Here's your pay. Good day Commander," the Headmaster stated and handed ove a bag of coins.

Patrick took them and left.

Sir Belvin looked over to the Headmaster, "uh; so when did Fotens become a Commander?"

The old man winced, "about that. Keep it to yourself for now."

 
 
 
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Chapter 16 of     The Nightmare Rider

Jessica had finished her breakfast and left the Dining Hall. Aruna Moning quietly rushed up beside her.

"I have to talk to you! Privately," the Duchess whispered.

Jessica led her outside to the courtyard. It was currently empty.

"Alright Aruna. This is as private as we can have until this afternoon," Jessica said.

Aruna glanced around anyway then said quietly, "Lord Del Ekato is gone!"

"What do you mean 'gone'," the Princess asked confused.

Aruna told her quickly, "yesterday morning he was pulled from the Dining Hall. Nobody saw him since. One of the other Nobles said his dorm room was empty and I just heard that his horse is not in the stable either. Something HAPPENED!"

"Aruna calm down. None of the Instructors have said anything," Jessica tried to calm her friend.

Aruna shook her head, "you don't understand! I just looked at the Selection list and his name was crossed off!"

That caused Jessica to stop, "what? Crossed off? Did it say 'withdrawn' or something like that?"

The Duchess slowly shook her head, "nothing. Just crossed off."

Jessica considered that a moment then waved to her, "let's go find out for ourselves."

Back in the corridor they saw Fiona Doucet directing a couple of First years.

"Countess. Might we have moment," Jessica called out as they approached.

The two First years rushed off, "your Highness."

Jessica nodded to both and smiled.

Fiona regarded them, "good morning Highness. Duchess Moning."

"I know you're busy so I'll be quick. Aruna just informed me that one of the Selections has been removed. May we know what's happened," Jessica asked.

The student council President looked confused, "removed? I wasn't aware. Are you certain Duchess?"

Aruna nodded, "Yes Countess. He was pulled during breakfast and not seen since. Another Noble told me Lord Del's room is now empty and his horse in not in the stable."

"This is the first I'm hearing of this. Perhaps he withdrew due to an emergency," Fiona proposed.

"Highness. Ladies," Sir Belvin greeted coming out of the Dining Hall.

Fiona decided to quell a rumor before it really got started.

"Sir Belvin. Has a Selection been removed," Fiona asked.

The jousting instructor sighed and nodded, "yes. Lord Ekato will not be participating in Tournament, nor will he be continuing course at the Academy. Due to the timing of this, no alternate was able to be readily named. You, as the previous champion will not enter until the second round. The Headmaster intended to inform you of this later on today."

"Perhaps I can talk with the Headmaster now and get ahead of any rumors before they take a foothold," Fiona said then made her way to the office.

Sir Belvin looked to Jessica and Aruna, "I believe there is somewhere a Princess and Duchess should be."

"Of course Sir Belvin. Right you are. We'll be on our way," Jessica said before Aruna could protest and began to herd the inquisitive Duchess away.

Out of earshot Aruna finally spoke up, "we didn't find out anything. Why didn't you ask Sir Belvin?"

Jessica shook her head, "he wasn't about to tell us anything or he would have said so to Fiona right there. We have more important things to talk about. Have you taken care of squires yet?"

"Yes yes. My parents are bringing two along just for me when they come for Tournament. They're also bringing a cold box for water during it," the Duchess said airily.

Together they walked into the class.

Fiona was let into the Headmaster's office. She was surprised to see Lamia Tuala sitting in front of the desk.

"Come in Countess. I believe Lady Tuala has something you need to hear," the Headmaster beckoned her in.

Fiona walked to her and sat in the chair beside her, "Lamia? Has something happened?"

"A note was slipped under my door during the night. I'm being blackmailed," Lamia sniffed.

The Headmaster prompted gently, "start from the beginning Lady Tuala. The Countess needs to know everything."

Lamia choked back a sob and nodded but didn't look up, "I'm not really a Lady. My father was wounded in a battle. Mother was never able to have children. I'm not even a Tuala. I'm adopted!"

Fiona reached over and hugged her, "Lamia this is not as bad as you think. Please go on."

Lamia wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and handed over the note, "somehow someone found out. The note said that I have to substitute her water bottles during Tournament."

"Princess Weyden's water," Fiona asked reading the note then handed it back.

Lamia nodded and sobbed, "she's my friend. I can't do that to her. Please help me Countess! I'll do anything. I'll quit the Academy. I'll be your maid! Anything!"

"There'll be no need for that LADY Lamia Tuala," Fiona said gently. "Its more than she being your friend. You are her's."

The door opened and Patrick Fotens walked in.

"Solo Fotens. Thank you for coming so quickly. I regret to admit that you were indeed right," the Headmaster commented.

Patrick regarded the others in the room and let his gaze settle on Lamia Tuala, "I'm listening."

"There has been an attempt to blackmail Lady Tuala," the Headmaster stated.

Patrick nodded his understanding, "compromise Tuala since she will be acting as squire to Weyden. How was contact made?"

"A note. It was slipped under my door during the night," Lamia said.

Patrick put on his gloves and held his hand out, "I need it."

Lamia handed it over. Patrick held it up to the light from the window and looked closely.

"No watermark. I'll let you know if I find anything," Patrick said then turned to Lamia. "Even if you were to do as they want, they'll own you forever. Whatever secret you think you need to protect, bring it out and take away their power."

"I'm adopted," Lamia stated.

Patrick shrugged the statement off, "that would be your concern Tuala. It makes no difference to me. Whether or not they gave you a name means nothing. What you do with that name is what's of value. Is Lamia Tuala a person of shame; or courage?"

"Courage! I won't betray my friend," Lamia said firmly.

Fiona took her hands, "then show that courage Lamia. Show them they have no power over you!"

Patrick had made his way to the door, "I'll find out whatever there is to find Headmaster."

With that the Solo left.

Lunch was winding down and students were starting to gather up their trays to drop off.

Quickly Lamia Tuala stood up on her chair and called out loudly, "excuse me please."

Everyone stopped and turned to look.

"Everyone I wanted to talk on a personal matter," Lamia announced then took a deep breath. "There is at least one very despicable person here. A note was slipped under my door during the night. It said that if I did not swap the water bottles for Princess Jessica Weyden during Tournament, it would be revealed that I was adopted by my parents. I've given that note to the Headmaster first thing this morning."

The silence was almost tangible as people stared in shock. Some even began to look around, as if a sign would suddenly appear over the culprit.

Lamia decided she had nothing left to lose, "her Highness is my friend! I'd never betray her! I may not be a Tuala by blood, but I am one in name! What I do with my name will determine my nobility! I'll do what is RIGHT and be true to my friend! Your Highness; if you've any doubt to my honor I will gladly stand aside as your squire."

Jessica stood up and stormed over to her, "if you think that confession changes things between us; YOU'RE RIGHT!"

Suddenly Jessica hugged her, "you're MY friend! I'm YOUR friend! I'll have you nowhere but BY MY SIDE at Tournament!"

Vaan Arento stood up and began to clap loudly, "Well said Princess! LADY Tuala; I applaud your courage! You are indeed a NOBLE."

Fiona very subtly looked around and noticed all of the Solos had been sitting around the perimeter and were not looking at the people standing. They were looking at the people still seated and watching their reactions carefully. Many students were clapping and nodding. A few looked on, indifferent. The Countess continued to look around and noticed a Solo was missing. Patrick Fotens was nowhere to be seen.

Gradually the Dining Hall began to empty now that the moment had passed. Fiona took a place by the door and waited. She smiled and nodded to some who had done so to her. Solos had been mixed in with the exodus but with Doril Hunley being the last to exit. She quietly signaled him to wait then closed the door.

"Solo Hunley I would like a moment," the Countess said quietly.

Doril nodded, "what's on your mind Doucet?"

In a low voice she asked, "something has happened within the Solo hierarchy. I am beginning to suspect that you now answer to someone other than the Headmaster in the Academy."

"And you've come to this conclusion how," Hunley asked flatly.

Fiona didn't look away, "Solo Fotens was brought to the Headmaster's office during the session with Lamia Tuala. I was given the impression he is investigating things as per a contract with the Headmaster."

The Solo wasn't flustered, "that could be the situation."

"But as the ranking Solo, wouldn't that be your place," Fiona asked pointedly.

Doril nodded, "for the ranking Solo it would be. However, I am not the ranking Solo. Fotens is."

"WHAT? You're the Fourth year with the most points," Fiona stated.

Doril shook his head, "that is how it works most of the time. Not this year. I am the SENIOR Solo, not the ranking. Solo Fotens has outranked me since he entered the Academy. Until now the Solos have deferred to my Seniority."

Fiona's jaw dropped. This was a shocking revelation. She knew that Patrick Fotens had a record that was remarkable, but for the assumed top ranked Solo to say that the Third year was above him was something she had never heard of.

"I don't understand. How could he be above you," Fiona asked.

Doril sighed, "Doucet you're under the impression that academic points are the forefront. Its not. Royals, Nobles and Gentry don't have a battle record. You don't enter battle until you graduate. We usually do. Fotens has two years of battle experience over all of us and that record is actually better than all of the currently enrolled Solos combined. This may not matter to the student body at large, but it makes a profound difference to us. If you are trying to ask if I answer to him; the answer is yes, I do."

Fiona was almost staggered by the confirmation, "why has that been kept such a secret?"

"We answer only to the Headmaster and our Regiment Doucet. That never changed. If something happens between us and the student body then you are allowed involvement. For everything else, we see to ourselves. The Top rank or Senior Solo oversees the Solos. Sometimes they are the same, sometimes not. There's been no need to clarify to the student body. The Headmaster has been aware the whole year," Doril remarked. "We done? I need to get to class or charge you."

Fiona shook her head and opened the door, "that's all Solo Hunley."

The First Regiment Solo left the room, and the student council President with more questions than she had before the conversation started.

Patrick handed over the blackmail note to the Headmaster, "there are four different fingerprints on the page. They were not the same as those on the receipt for the lances. One set will of course belong to Tuala. Another I'm sure belong to a staff member as the paper is standard. Its the other two that may belong to a guilty party."

"One belongs to Fiona Doucet. She read the note before you came in," the Headmaster informed him.

"I advise you to bring in the village sheriff's team to determine who the fingerprints belong to. Or you can contract the Fourth Company's Third platoon," Patrick advised.

The old man sighed, "very well. I'll contact the Commander of the Fourth Company. Speed is critical now. Tournament is almost upon us. How much Commander Fotens?"

Patrick turned to leave, "part of the original contract."

"Rank hasn't changed him one bit," the Headmaster said to himself as he began to put through a communicae.

Daalumos could see the castle for Phoetor in the distance. He had stopped at the edge of a ridge to observe. The surprise came when he looked down in debate of how to descend. At the bottom something was chained to the rockwall. The Lust took the shape of a bird and flew down to land on large rock close by.

"This is quite the sight," Daalumos remarked.

The figure lifted its head to reveal a beautiful feminine face, "do as you were sent Demon or be gone."

Daalumos stretched his wings for a moment then looked at her, "who are you Succubus? Why are you chained thus?"

"I am Iia of the court of Phoetor. I refused to serve in the brothel of Marduk Kurios after the defeat of Phoetor," the Succubus confessed.

Daalumos held back the surprise in his voice, "Phoetor was defeated?"

Iia hung in her chains, "yes Demon. My Master was defeated and sent to Abyss after being caged. His legion was taken into service and the castle of Nightmares plundered. I refused to go. I will not serve Marduk Kurios. For that I have been left here for wanderers."

"What if the one I serve freed you? Would you serve as well," Daalumos asked.

Iiya slumped, "only Marduk Kurios can release me. He will not. I will never whore His brothel. This is my eternity."

Daalumos began to shimmer and fade, "my Mistress may have need for you Succubus."

The BloodLust was gone.

Phoebe sat on her throne in thought when a rush of flames revealed Daalumos' return. His hooves echoed on the stone floor as he turned about and shook himself.

"Welcome back," Phoebe said.

Daalumos chuckled, "thank you my Mistress. I bear news."

Phoebe nodded, "regale me."

"Phoetor has been caged and exiled to the Abyss," the BloodLust informed her. "By Marduk Kurios."

"Marduk Kurios? The one who tricks the believers of the one God by using the alias of Devil? How," Phoebe asked confused.

Daalumos laughed, "there is a Succubus named Iia chained to a cliff for refusing his service. If you free her at the very least she may answer all your questions. At most, she may pledge your service."

"If nothing else; she can answer questions," Phoebe said and began donning her armor then the cloak and sword of Vulcan.

Once she was clan in the Styxion armor and ready Phoebe climbed up onto the BloodLust's back.

"We must hurry as time passes slower there Daalumos," Phoebe ordered.

They were consumed in a rush of flame and appeared a distance away from the cliff. Daalumos approached. Not realizing who was before her Iia said nothing and simple hung in her chains.

"Look upon me Succubus," Phoebe ordered.

Iia gazed at the rocks littering the ground, "have your sport and be done."

"Charming isn't she Mistress," Daalumos chuckled.

The Succubus snapped her head up at the familiar voice and then her eyes narrowed in recognition, "You. Master's offspring with the Punisher."

Phoebe remarked casually, "I am Phoebe. Goddess of Nightmares, Succubus. My servant informs me that you claimed Phoetor has been defeated and imprisoned."

Iia sighed, "yes. Marduk Kurios defeated him on this very battlefield. Master retreated to his own walls before Marduk Kurios claimed victory over Him. A month ago."

"Almost a year on the Mortal plane Mistress," Daalumos clarified.

"Gloat your revenge Phoebe of Nightmares and leave me be," Iia muttered.

Phoebe edged Daalumos closer, "you answered my questions Succubus. I will release you."

Iia laughed, "Marduk chained me himself and laughed there is no release but by his key. Your arrogance is the first amusement I've had since that day."

Phoebe drew the sword and sliced through the first shackle freeing her left wrist. The Succubus stared in disbelief.

"The thought of leaving you half-freed could be entertaining for such insult," Phoebe stated.

Iia stared at the destroyed shackle her wrist had been in moments ago, "Marduk Kurios said there was no release but by Him. These chains were made for him by Zahgurim."

The Succubus looked down, "Goddess I beg your forgiveness!"

The second shackle was cut through and the Succubus fell to the ground. She knelt down and bowed.

"Thank you Goddess," Iia groveled.

Phoebe slid off Daalumos' back and eased the sword tip to Iia's collar and sliced through it, "your service to Phoetor has ended."

Iia sat up, "I no longer serve Phoetor?"

Quickly she covered her mouth with her hand. She couldn't remember calling Him by name, only Master.

"Fool Succubus. That collar had compulsion cast upon it. Phoetor claimed you in battle years ago. You were nothing more than an amusement for his court. He took you when I still in his castle," Phoebe informed her.

Iia thought back and realized every act she committed in Phoetor's court had been for his amusement. Her memory fully returned and she remembered the day He first showed her the collar. Informing her she would be nothing more than a plaything. Exploited for the court's amusement. How she had been compelled to profess love for him while being used by the courtiers, one after another. The false happiness that he was pleased with the act.

Daalumos snorted then said, "Mistress. I left something atop the cliff."

Phoebe climbed up onto his back and they made their way to the top. The freed Succubus following slowly behind, almost numbly as all her memories were still coming back. When they reached the place Daalumos pawed a bag from between some rocks.

"A tribute to my Mistress," the BloodLust chuckled.

Phoebe eased off and collected the bag and looked inside, "Underworld coins? How did you get these?"

"Poena the Punisher. She wanted to know your disposition towards Her. I made her pay to find out," Daalumos laughed.

Phoebe counted them then hooked the bag to point on her belt, "not much. Perhaps enough for a gift."

The BloodLust roared with laughed, "I have no doubt who would receive such a gift!"

"To the narrows of the River Styx," Phoebe commanded.

Daalumos reared up on his hind legs and shrieked with glee as a rush of flame engulfed them both. A moment later, they reappeared along the bank in the same manner. Daalumos walked along for a few minutes then stopped in front of a house as the door opened.

"Its been some time Phoebe of Nightmares," a woman stated.

Phoebe nodded, "it has Megaera."

"Sisters! Phoebe of Nightmares has come to us again," Megaera called out.

Two other women came to the door.

"What brings you to us young Goddess," one asked in a far away voice.

The third nodded to her, "yes. Your armor seems in proper form."

Phoebe glanced to the second, "I have need of the creation of a gift Alecto. I will present it to the mortal girl who is growing to be my War-priestess, Tisiphone. A sword."

Tisiphone; vengeful destruction, smiled coldly. "such would come with a price Goddess of Nightmares. You must give of your blood for a weapon wielded in your service. She must give of her maiden's blood to wield it."

"She must sacrifice to the sword in your name her purity," Alecto of eternity stated.

Megaera of jealous rage affirmed, "upon the onset of her bloom."

Phoebe shifted her position, "well. For such a gift, it must be of great beauty and strength."

Phoebe handed them the bag of coins. The Furies counted the coins then nodded.

"This will be a sword of Netheranium," Tisiphone informed her.

Phoebe nodded, "accepted."

The Succubus made her appearance as the ore smelted. Phoebe used her gauntlet to scratch open her wrist and bleed into the molten metal. Soon it was cast into rough form then hammered into the final shape. The blade and handguard were etched, along with the pommel. The hilt was carefully wrapped then the edges were sharpened. Phoebe had spoken incantations the whole time. Finally the sword was slowly slid into a scabbard and presented to her.

"Your gift is complete," Alecto said.

Phoebe took it and nodded, "its a stunning gift. Perfect for her to claim vengeance with."

Tisiphone looked up, "she desires vengeance?"

"Of course. Her birth mother was brutalized by a group of mortals in front of her and died telling her to escape. I have found a family for her and they have all entered worship of me. This will be an appropriate gift for her," Phoebe told them.

Tisiphone retook the sword and unsheathed it. Quietly she whispered to the blade and shed a single tear to fall onto the hilt then gave it back.

"This sword will not be satisfied until it has drank those mortals' blood," Tisiphone informed her. "After that, she may pass it to the next of her maiden line with proper sacrifice."

Phoebe nodded her understanding.

The Succubus spoke up quickly, "take me with you Mistress! I will serve you!"

Alecto handed Phoebe a blank medallion. Phoebe focused her will and her insignia appeared on it then handed it to the Succubus.

Iia put the gold chain around her neck and bowed. A rush of flames rose up and all three were gone. They reappeared in the secret room on the mortal plane.

"Is this home Mistress," Iia asked looking around.

Phoebe dismounted Daalumos, "yes. Go in there and you may bathe."

The Succubus left to do so. Phoebe concealed the sword then removed her cloak, sword and armor. When Iia returned Phoebe was sitting on her throne.

"Why did the Mistress bring us here, " Iia asked Daalumos.

Daalumos shook himself, "we have interests here on the mortal plane. Tomorrow night we will visit the priestess."

"Why do we not go now," Iia asked puzzled.

"Because our Mistress has daytime activities. She uses a Glamoured form. Its actually rather amusing. She gained fame faster as a mortal than as herself. It is only recently that she has become accepted as a Goddess by the mortals," Daalumos chuckled.

Phoebe's eyes closed as Daalumos told of their tales together. The Succubus stayed enthralled as their Mistress slept until dawn.
 
 
 
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Chapter 17 of     The Nightmare Rider

Patrick entered the main doors and signed in at the office. She took the sign-in board and handed him some notices. He went to the Dining Hall and took the usual table. Halfway through his reading Doril Hunley came over to his table and took a seat.

"Morning. All the new sets of armor arrived yesterday. Everything is to our preferences," Doril stated then handed over a page.

Patrick read it over then took a pen from his inside jacket pocket and made notation, "some things may not be needed this time around. It will benefit all if they understand them. Arrange a meeting tomorrow afternoon to do that. The match-ups are being made now. They will be done the usual way with one exception. I have the first match and my opponent has already been selected."

"By whom," Doril asked.

Patrick shifted to the next notice, "by me. An example is going to be made Hunley. A very big and permanent example. All I require is a bit of stupidity. I have no doubt my opponent will oblige. Anything else?"

"Not at this time," Doril replied and stood up then added quietly. "Commander."

Patrick nodded without looking and the Fourth year left. The exchange went almost unnoticed. Except for Fiona Doucet, Vaan Arento and Jessica Weyden. Jessica then noticed Fiona looking at her and knew the Countess saw that she had been watching as well. The shake of her head was slight but enough for Jessica to understand. The message was clear; say and do nothing. Jessica had other ideas though. carefully she began counting the coins in her jacket pocket. All she had was ten. Hopefully that would be enough for what she wanted, otherwise it would at least pay for a meeting.

Jessica dropped off her tray and left. She went down the corridor and found a place to loiter.

Patrick finished his reading as others were leaving and did so as well. He was about to turn a corner when Jessica Weyden called out quietly off the main corridor.

"Solo Fotens," Jessica called the waved him over.

Patrick followed her into a connecting hall, "what is it Weyden?"

"I have a problem. How much for a consultation," Jessica asked.

"Just tell me what it is you want Weyden," Patrick said flatly.

Jessica sighed then said, "All the Royals that were Selected have had their armor sabotaged. All but mine. I believe someone may be trying to implicate me. There's also that business about Lamia being blackmailed to turn against me."

Patrick held out his hand, "give me a coin Weyden."

Jessica blinked, "just one?"

"Today Weyden," Patrick said.

Jessica gave him the coin, "alright. Now what?"

Patrick pocketed it, "the armor situation has already been dealt with. As for Tuala, that's being looked into by other people more suited to that task. You are not a suspect Weyden."

"Thank you," Jessica sighed in relief then handed him five more coins. "Sorry to bother you."

"Weyden," Patrick nodded then left.

Ren Belvin looked over the sheet of the first round match-ups. With the exception of one, all were set according to points. After looking it over again he noticed a problem. After the first round there would be a stand-alone.

"There'll have to be a drawing for the stand-alone," Sir Belvin said to himself. "Can't be helped."

The Jousting instructor began assembling The Board. An ornate board that would hold movable name plates. He placed the name plates along the bottom row. From there they would move up by victory until one name climbed to the top. This year would be vastly difference. That was because of the Solos. All but one in the Selection now had some kind of field experience. The big concern was the first match-up. Patrick Fotens and Bon Loreen. Loreen had non-regulation lances. One a battle lance.

Sir Belvin stared at Patrick's name, "what are you up to Fotens? Why do you want him first up?"

"You know what they say about people that talk to themselves," an amused voice said from the doorway.

Sir Belvin groaned, "don't start with me Prince Arento."

Vaan chuckled, "now where would be the fun in that Sir Belvin? AH! You've set the board!"

Sir Belvin placed a cover over the board, "Shouldn't you be in a class or chasing somebody around with flowers?"

"Actually I came to inform you that my new armor has arrived. I see no problems with my entry for Tournament," Vaan said.

Sir Belvin nodded, "that's nice Highness but the one you should be telling is the Headmaster."

"Already done. I asked him to tell you myself after I checked the fit. I am fit to compete now," the Prince said proudly then added. "He also instructed me to present him with the charges. I get the feeling that he will be presenting that to someone else."

Ren Belvin leaned back in his chair, "Arento you may have ninety-five percent of the Academy fooled but not me. Get to your point."

The Flamboyant Prince turned serious, "Very well Sir Belvin. If you insist. Do I have anything to be concerned about?"

"Have you seen the Selection list," Sir Belvin asked.

The Prince nodded.

Sir Belvin nodded back, "then I'd say you have plenty to be concerned about. Every one of the competitors, including yourself, is quite capable. Some are more formidable than others, but that's to be expected and will be seen. That's Tournament. You'll need all the skills you've acquired, but only one name will go all the way."

"Actually I was wondering if there is more than that to be of concern," Vaan said.

"If there is then the Academy would be addressing such concern Highness. All you need be concerned about is your performance," Sir Belvin said firmly then nodded to the door.

Prince Vaan took the not so subtle hint and left. He had what he wanted. The Academy was indeed investigating and the first match-ups.

"Loreen is no match for Fotens; why are they paired and the first to compete," Vaan asked himself.

The Prince stopped and looked out a window to the grassy fields below. Already there were stakes being driven to mark the campsites of visiting families. His own parents would be doing so. Many families would be setting up pavilions, much like war camps. Twenty square yards of allotted territory. Essentially a tent city for the weekend. Two rounds of competition on the first day and final rounds on the second. All this while a festival would be held featuring stands and booths by business and student collectives. Three platoons of Solos from the Tenth Battalion would patrol along with two platoons from the Tenth Regiment.

Patrick walked out the main doors and went to the Solos' Stable. He mounted Daemon and rode out. Outside the gate the Commander of the Nineteenth Regiment met up with him.

"Eighty-Sixth Commander Patrick Fotens," He greeted.

Patrick nodded back, "Nineteenth Commander Fahr Reton."

They were alone in all directions but continued to ride towards the village.

"Its my understanding you've done preliminary investigation and produced notable results," Fahr remarked.

Patrick nodded, "I found two. Not the source. Someone is moving in the background. Using others."

"The Fourth Battalion has been contracted at your recommendation," Commander Reton informed him.

Patrick asked, "Do they need anything from me?"

The elder commander shook his head, "they have everything you presented to the Headmaster. I was informed that you intend to face the student with non-competition lances. Are you prepared in case he uses a battle lance?"

"Yes. Tomorrow all the Solos will have a class at the farm for that," Patrick stated.

Fahr Reton edged ahead and came to a stop, Patrick did the same.

"Are you implying that you want him to try that first," Reton asked.

Patrick nodded.

Comprehension hit Commander Reton like a lance at full gallop, "you want it revealed that he used a battle lance to be able to demand the contest go from official to personal duel."

Again the younger Solo Commander nodded.

"Do you intend to kill the boy as an example," Fahr asked.

Patrick sat silently and made no indication.

The older Commander stared intently, "I see. There could be repercussions if this is not done correctly."

"There is only one way. Postpone introduction until we are both ready to make our run. Then reveal my rank. Should he use any non-regulation lance then it will be cheating. Use of a battle lance will be attempted murder of a Regimental Commander," Patrick stated.

Fahr nodded, "without your rank revealed it could be considered a school rivalry. Revealing your rank would leave no doubt his intent is murder of a Regiment Commander."

"Tournament competition is non-deadly. The killing or attempting to kill a Regimental Commander outside contracted battle is murder and a Regimental Commander is within rights to declare duel to the death without repercussion or retribution," Patrick stated.

Commander Reton nodded, "the previous Commander taught you well. You will be within regulations Commander Fotens. I'll be on my way."

The two saluted each other and parted.

Phoebe walked into the chamber and noted Iia sat on the riser for her throne and Daalumos stood off to the side.

"Welcome back Mistress," Iia greeted her.

Daalumos chuckled, "another day of learning Mistress?"

"Yes. More Solos have been brought in and my services are no longer required for the investigation. The contract has been settled," Phoebe stated taking her throne.

Iia looked up, "Mistress I still do not understand why you hold hired warriors in regard and pretend to be one?"

Phoebe chuckled, "of all the mortals; they are the most like ourselves. When a pact is made with them, they adhere only to the terms of that contract. The only allegiance they have is to their-selves."

"They are the most like ourselves of the mortals," the Succubus agreed. "Forgiven my ignorance Mistress."

Phoebe shook her head, "you are uneducated in the ways of mortals and that is not your fault. It has taken us a long time to learn what we know. There is still more to learn Iia. Watch and listen to the mortals. You will be meeting some tonight."

"The Priestess your Lust spoke of," Iia remarked.

"Yes. Rest now. We will leave as the moon rises," Phoebe informed them.

Hours later Daalumos ran at full speed. Phoebe and Iia the Succubus rode on his back, slipping in and out of shadows. Suddenly they felt the infusion of worship flowing into them.

"MISTRESS! WHAT IS THIS FEELING," Iia asked in surprise.

Daalumos laughed, "THIS is worship! THIS IS POWER!"

The Succubus tremor-ed in pleasure, "please mistress. Let me keep feeling this worship!"

"Stay with us Iia. You'll feel it every day," Phoebe stated as Daalumos took them through one last shadow.

A rush of flames roared up and Daalumos broke forth to rear up on his hind legs and shriek his pleasure.

A woman came to the open doorway of a small temple and curtsied then turned back, "Mistress Sania! The Goddess has come!"

A little girl in a black dress ran out and curtsied, "GODDESS PHOEBE! LAMUDOS! WELCOME."

"Hello Sania," Phoebe returned the greeting.

Daalumos chuckled, "greetings little Priestess."

Phoebe nudged Iia to get off then dismounted. Sania rushed forward to hug her then patted the leg of the BloodLust.

"Its so good to see you," Sania smiled then looked to the third. "Goddess, who is she?"

Phoebe nodded to her, "introduce yourself to our Priestess."

"I am Iia. A Succubus in the service of Goddess Phoebe. This is my first time meeting a mortal," Iia said.

Sania nodded to her, "I'm Sania Malzeek. Taken daughter of Lord and Lady Malzeek and WarPriestess to our Goddess Phoebe."

Phoebe made her way inside the temple and took her place on the replica throne, resting a wrapped object against the armrest. Moments later the remaining family entered and paid their respects. The son being the last.

"My Goddess," he greeted her and bowed proudly.

Phoebe nodded, "what news have you, Young Malzeek?"

He smiled broadly, "Goddess; I have been accepted to the Institute of Finance. I begin the next session, for four terms."

"I know you will excel Mica Malzeek," Phoebe stated confidently.

Iia noticed the regally dressed woman looking her over.

Celia Malzeek looked over, "Goddess. Is she in your service?"

"She is. Her name is Iia. She is a Succubus," Phoebe stated. "Iia. She is Celia, Lady of Malzeek. Chosen mother of our WarPriestess."

Celia looked her over again then knelt close to Phoebe to speak quietly, "my Goddess; her attire is lacking for a Succubus if the stories I've heard are true."

Phoebe regarded Iia intently, "I see your point. A Succubus should, at the least, look somewhat seductive. Take her to your chambers and see to it. The charm about her neck is to stay on. That way she may find me."

"Of course my Goddess," Celia said then took Iia's hand. "Let's get you taken care of quickly."

Iia hadn't even the thought to protest and found herself swept along behind the mortal woman. An hour later they were back. The Succubus looked very much more like a demoness of seduction. She had been given a short tunic of red and black sheer material. She had also been given a pair of sandals with black and red straps and a high slender heel. With suggestions from Celia and the maid, Iia used her magic to change her hair and facial appearance.

Phoebe nodded her approval, "much better. Iia; when the time comes for Mica Malzeek to begin pursuing a love interest, it would benefit him well to understand the pleasures of company. The Gentle arts of Allure. I'm sure he'll be quite the attentive student."

The young teen blushed as the demoness looked him over. She then went over to him and gingerly caressed his brow. Mica found his arms guided to encircle her waist and hold her close. Iia softly nuzzled his cheek and he felt the urge to gently press his lips to her cheek then slowly release her from the embrace.

Iia smiled, "he is a QUICK study Mistress. When his time comes he will be well versed in the Gentle arts."

Phoebe nodded then beckoned Sania closer, "I have a gift for you little Priestess."

Sania watched as Phoebe unwrapped the package and stared in wonder at the sword.

"Really Goddess? I can have it," Sania asked in awe.

Phoebe pulled it from the scabbard and the gold tinted glimmered in the torchlight for to be admired.

"This sword will be yours Child. In time. Everyone outside but her and her parents," Phoebe instructed.

Everyone exited the temple. The Captain began to speak with Daalumos, asking if the stable-mechanic may look at him close to better imitate Sania's horse. Iia already instructing Mica about his expressions when facing females.

Phoebe raised a barrier once everyone was out that blocked entrance and prevented voices inside to be heard outside.

"This sword was forged for you Child. It will only serve Me. A price must be paid for you to wield it. The price comes in two parts by blood," Phoebe informed them.

Tam Malzeek asked, "what price must she pay Goddess?"

Phoebe laid the sword on the alter, "She must offer her blood to the sword to make the pledge. Not much is required and from her hand will do. After that, only she may take the sword. However, that will only happen if she sacrifices the proof of her maidenhood to the sword. Her blood tonight pledges the sword, on the eve of her sixteenth year she must sacrifice her maidenhood and give the proof to the sword as payment. Only then will it truly be hers. From then on, any maiden of her line may wield the sword in my service after that same price is paid."

Nervously Celia asked, "who is to deflower her?"

Phoebe looked at her intently, "herself. She must do so on her own."

Celia knelt down and held Sania close while she whispered to her then finally pulled back, "do you understand now?"

"What about when I get married? A good man won't want me if I do," Sania asked.

Phoebe shook her head, "not true. A good one will overlook that. It will not make you less in his eyes. It may even make you more. Your parents will ensure he is suitable."

"I'll do it," Sania said. "How Goddess?"

Phoebe laid the sword on the altar, "use the blade itself Sania."

Sania reached out and pressed her palm against the edge as best she could then slid it forward. Quickly she felt the bite and a burning sensation.

"Ow. Now what do I do," she asked with a slight whimper.

Phoebe pointed to the base of the blade, "let it drink from here."

The small girl pressed her bleeding palm to the spot. For a moment nothing then blade began to glow then words began to appear on the blade. Sania looked at them. They looked like the same type of words she had carved into the altar and Phoebe had etched into her shield.

"Mama. Papa. What do these words say," Sania asked.

Both looked at her in confusion and Celia asked, "what words dear? I see no words."

Sania pointed at the blade, "the words right here. On the sword."

"We see none," Tam Malzeek gently informed her.

Phoebe nodded, "they do not see them. Only you and I can see them. That is the language of the Underworld. Learn it well before the eve of your sixteenth year."

"The night before your sixteenth birthday," Celia told Sania.

Sania nodded, "I will."

Phoebe slid the sword to the back edge of the altar then concealed the scabbard underneath the top. She looked over to Tam.

"Try to remove the sword Malzeek," Phoebe instructed.

Lord Malzeek grasped the hilt and tried to lift it. The sword refused to move. Next Celia tried, she could not do so either.

Phoebe looked down to Sania, "there it will stay until you pay the price and claim the sword. Only you can do this. I must go now."

The three followed Phoebe out as the barrier faded. Outside a robotic horse was being painted as Daalumos posed himself. Iia was discussing Mica's hair with him as two maids were nodding with enthusiasm.

"If things go well; Iia will teach him the arts of Passion," Phoebe told the Malzeeks after the Succubus rejoined them.

Tam Malzeek asked, "are you certain Goddess?"

"I believe that whomever our son marries will be ensured a more pleasant wedding night than her peers and definitely further nights of enjoyment in their marriage bed," Celia said barely containing a giggle.

Phoebe nodded, "a plan far better than an hour or two with some random village girl."

Tam Malzeek shifted uncomfortably and looked elsewhere. Phoebe and Iia noticed but said nothing of it.

"Its time for us to go," Phoebe called over to Daalumos.

The BloodLust trotted over and Phoebe leaped up onto his back followed by Iia. Daalumos reared up and shrieked as flames engulfed them then were gone.

Patrick rode into the Academy and stabled Daemon. He entered the main doors and signed in then proceeded to the Dining Hall to read and wait. The morning went without incident and by noon the first of visiting families began to arrive. They went into the Dining hall and were greeted by their children. King and Queen Weyden were among them. Both made sure to see and be seen by Patrick and nodded to him. Like other parents that had attended the Academy they took the time to greet the Headmaster and other familiar faces. That afternoon the Commanders of Solo Regiments began to filter in. Some, were the Commanders of the Solos enrolled; others were coming in to look over and scout the ones without affiliation.

Fiona Doucet greeted them as well and pretended not to notice the subtle nods they gave Patrick. Many openly approached him. Those gave the impression they were trying to recruit him.

"That's a Solo Commander. Isn't he," a Gentry asked Fiona.

Fiona nodded, "yes. I didn't notice which Regiment though."

"Isn't Fotens the only member of his Regiment," the Second year asked.

"So I've heard. Perhaps that Commander is trying to recruit him. He can join another Regiment if asked since he's the last member," Fiona remarked. "Its all standard. I'm not surprised. I doubt any Regiment would refuse him."

The Gentry nodded his understanding and moved off. Fiona pretended to give no further regard but actually was paying attention to see him move over to a table and begin talking to Jeffries Talfar and Eaton Laanower. The Countess also noted that the affiliated Solos were introducing their Commanders to Patrick and Doril Hunley. Later on, after classes had concluded for the day, Fiona noticed that down in the tent city no pavilions for the Solos had been raised. She quickly went down and looked around and saw no places had been allotted for them. In fact, other than the Solos that had begun to patrol the area, none were around. She then felt the creeping sensation that she was being watched and looked around but there was no one actually paying her any mind. As she moved off a rogue gust of wind whipped through and flipped her skirt up in the back. The Countess could almost swear she heard a feminine giggle afterward and the feeling of being watched ended.

Iia couldn't resist teasing the pretty one all the mortal boys couldn't keep their eyes off of. She had been lurking about the Academy, invisible, to see the mortals her Glamoured mistress spent so much time around to learn of them better. When the sun set she would then go back to the village and watch the other mortals to see better how they interacted with each other. The Succubus knew she had much to learn before she began her teaching in earnest.

 
 
 
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Chapter 18 of     The Nightmare Rider

The stands had filled quickly and were very noisy. Many could be seen holding wager slips from betting booths. The Board had been placed just after sunrise that morning. The main, reputable, Bookmakers had been waiting for it. Most already knew the Selection list and had taken wagers for favorites. The match-ups were the main concern now. People would want to mostly gamble on those. The odds would be in constant flux. Odds increased with victory. A single loss took a Selection out of Tournament. Very few actually placed large bets before the match-ups were posted. Many were familiar with the match-ups, mostly by points acquired. Some even paid Second year students to keep them informed of those points. It was no great surprise to see many of the match-ups.

Ben Surlaang against Sera Arden. Norr Luunos against Lara Tarika. Kern Winnower against Hevrin Aulder. Hirz Kez against Bron Zako. Klin Makaal against Goron Favell. Lyle Matrileek against Eaton Laanower. Aruna Moning against Fay Merfin. Doril Hunley against Moor Falek. Dirk Sharvot against Vaan Arento. Dagar Voluntas against Jeffries Talfar. Danze Marow against Debrie Beon. Ziekell Loxtonia against Jessica Weyden. Den Irth against Ponz Gerrare. Bon Loreen against Patrick Fotens.

Match order was randomly determined, which was expected. After a few Tournaments it had been decided that way to keep the spectators interested in all the matches. Several of the Bookmakers though could be seen talking among themselves and shaking their heads. It was the first match that had them confused as they re-checked their information. Bon Loreen and Patrick Fotens weren't even close in points, that is what had them all puzzled.

Bess Ginaar looked around then carefully pulled away the black strip from the shoulder of Patrick's armor to reveal the Regiment Commander insignia. Patrick nodded to her as she reached over and handed him his helm. Rositor Jazorr checked the shield. Only someone who knew exactly what they were looking for would be able to detect the water-wrap. A thin transparent film had been attached to the shield and held with special clips. The space between would then be filled with water. Long ago, a battle had been fought just as a thunderstorm broke. The falling rain began to short and nullify the plasma of the battle lances. Solos found a way to exploit that. Before battle they would secretly apply a film and fill the space between with water. Due to the impact most never noticed the spray of water as the lance struck the shield. The plasma would crackle and spark harmlessly, the Solo would only suffer impact damage. The opposing rider would suffer from the Solo's battle lance that would burn through and down the rider, usually in death.

"Everything is set," Doril Hunley said quietly as he walked up. "Sir Belvin will announce you himself. Its all in your hands now Commander Fotens."

Patrick nodded and sheathed his combat sword, "as I said; all I need is a bit of stupidity and I'm sure my opponent will oblige."

The Fourth year nodded. They all watched as Patrick mounted Daemon then took his shield. Carefully he held it to conceal the insignia and followed his two squires into the arena. On the other side Bon Loreen took note of his arrival and took a lance from his squire. Patrick snapped his visor down then took a lance from Rositor and moved to the starting position. Loreen took position as well. Now was the point of no return. If the Gentry had taken a battle lance he would be forced to use it. To discard it would indicate there was something not right about his lances and call for immediate inspection.

Sir Belvin spoke over the speakers, "WELCOME TO TOURNAMENT!"

The crowd in the stands cheered loudly.

"FIRST CONTEST. SOUTH LANE; BON LOREEN, GENTRY OF RANOM. NORTH LANE; PATRICK FOTENS, EIGHTY-SIXTH REGIMENT FREELANCERS' COMMANDER," Sir Belvin announced.

Though the crowd continued to show their excitement, many had been stunned. Only once in the last seventy-five years had a Regiment Commander been enrolled and rode in Tournament. Needless to say several young people left their seats to inform the betting booths. On the opposite end of the lane, Bon Loreen frowned inside his helm.

"If that was supposed to trip me up; it didn't," he said to himself.

The Flagman strode out proudly and took his place at the mid-point of the lanes. The crowd's noise level decreased. He checked Loreen and nodded at the ready signal then checked Fotens and nodded at his. The flag was held out.

"GO," the Flagman yelled and ran clear.

Loreen spurred his horse to bolt off the start and tore for the opposite end. The Gentry sat straight in his saddle and held the lance even with his line, aiming dead-center and activated the plasma charging. In motion like he was, no one would see it until it penetrated the shield and by then it would be all over for the Solo.

Daemon lunged forward and raced toward the oncoming rider. Patrick then leaned forward slightly and angled his shield down and in. The lance was held slightly back from line, aiming to the right and below center. Patrick knew it would slide harmlessly off. Just as planned.

The clash of the impacts almost echoed in the arena, but to Bon's horror his lance tip hit the shield and less than a heartbeat after, there was a loud crackling sound and sparks flew. Patrick's lance tip broke, but not completely off.

Immediately there began shouts from the stands, "BATTLE LANCE! ILLEGAL! ILLEGAL!"

Others heard and began to call out, "CHEAT! CHEAT!"

Patrick wheeled Daemon around, jumped the lane divider and threw down his lance and shield as he bailed off angrily.

"PLEASE WAIT FOR THE WORD FROM THE OFFICIALS," Sir Belvin announced then went out with four others who had ran out immediately.

The officials and Sir Belvin examined the lance and all began to look angrily over at Loreen.

Loudly Sir Belvin shouted, "LOREEN! YOU USED A BATTLE LANCE IN TOURNAMENT, KNOWING IT IS ILLEGAL! YOU ARE HEREBY DISQUALIFIED FROM TOURNAMENT AND WITH THE HEADMASTER'S AGREEMENT; EXPELLED!"

"HOLD," Patrick called out after raising his visor. "WHEN HE USED A BATTLE LANCE IT WAS NO LONGER COMPETITION. TRYING TO KILL A COMMANDER OUTSIDE CONTRACT BATTLE IS MURDER. THIS IS NOW A PERSONAL MATTER, CLEAR THE FIELD!"

Four members of the Second Regiment had ridden out and blocked any attempt by the Gentry to flee the field. Many of the crowd gasped in shock as Patrick drew his combat sword.

"Off that horse. You wanted a fight and now you got it," one of the Solos remarked to Loreen.

Slowly Bon dismounted and took an offered sword. Cautiously he stood in place and brought his visor back down as the angry Solo Commander advanced. Everything about the young man in black and green armor telegraphed anger. The Gentry knew this was going to be a fight to the death. A death, more than likely to be his own.

The first swing of Loreen's sword missed, throwing him past Patrick. Unfazed Patrick stayed on the advance using every thrust and slash to move his opponent backward. The strikes from the laser-edged sword merely nicked and scratched Loreen's armor. Bon tried to defend, but any attempt to counter-attack was thwarted. In short he realized quickly that he was being toyed with.

Patrick stayed on the offensive. With every thrust and slash, he pulled back slightly at the last instant. This lasted for almost five minutes and Bon Loreen backed up into a wall. There was nowhere left to retreat to. Any move to the side to try escape was met with a powerful slash that scarred the wall, keeping him in place. Finally he dropped the sword and fell to his knees holding his arms out in surrender.

"I yield," Gentry Loreen stated and looked to the sand underneath him.

Patrick used the tip of his sword to fling the helmet off the guilty Gentry, "Your head is mine unless you have something more valuable to surrender."

"Lord Eaton. Lord Eaton Laanower. He bought the lances. He paid me twenty thousand to do it," Bon Loreen said quietly.

"Proof," Patrick snarled.

Bon nodded, "I have it written down and signed by him. The right pocket of my saddle. The squires for me are his too."

The Headmaster had approached and heard the exchange. He signaled for the horse to be brought over and searched the saddle to find the paper. He read it then waved two Second Regiment Solos over and quietly instructed them.

"Commander Fotens. I ask for this young man's life. You may confiscate the coinage promised in exchange for it," the Headmaster offered.

Bon quickly agreed, "its in my duffle at the Ices stand."

One of the Solos rode out and returned with the heavy sack of money.

Patrick looked inside and mulled it over then finally nodded, "for his life. Done."

Bon sighed in relief then screamed as Patrick's sword swung up suddenly and severed the arm between a gap in the armor on the underside. Medical staff rushed over to attend the Gentry.

Patrick turned, sheathing his sword, "he will live."

The crowd sat stunned. Most had no idea what all had happened, only what they could see. Patrick walked over to his horse and led him out. His squires had already collected his shield and lance.

"Due to Competition misconduct; Gentry Bon Loreen had been disqualified and expelled. Tournament will continue in a few minutes," Sir Belvin announced.

Four Solos approached the Nobles ready area and stopped, looking directly at Eaton Laanower.

"Laanower," one of the Solos stated. "Tenth Battalion Freebooters. You will come with us. Disarm him."

Two of the Solos gave the young Lord harsh looks, as if challenging him to refuse the instructions, and took his sword and dagger. Each held him by the arm on either side and roughly escorted him out.

"If any more have the idea that cheating will serve you, forget it. The one who just tried is not availible to consult you," the Solo group leader commented then left to follow his men.

Lord Eaton soon found himself in the Headmaster's office and roughly shoved forward to stand in front of the desk. Both his parents stood to the side looking angry.

Eaton gathered himself and glared, "what is the meaning of THIS?"

"You've been disqualified and are now being expelled," Baron Laanower replied hotly.

The Baroness glared at him angrily, "thank you for this great HONOR you've contributed to the family name."

Eaton stormed to the desk and demanded, "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

The Headmaster held up the page, "the evidence against you. Your parents have already compared it to sample of your own handwriting. It also has been compared to a receipt from a supplier in the village for an order of lances made to look as if they come from the school armory. Including a battle lance. Not even the worst Solo Regiment will take you now."

"I think it would be best if he avoided all Solos. As he just tried to have a Commander killed," the Commander of the Second Regiment remarked.

"What Commander? That fool was supposed to bring down Fotens," Eaton said angrily then realized his mistake.

Baron Laanower backhanded his son, "IDIOT! Fotens IS a Commander! That's what makes it all the worse!"

"A member of your household staff is currently collecting your belongings watched over by one of the instructors. Also there is the matter of trying to blackmail Lamia, Lady Tuala. Your handwriting matched that note as well," the Headmaster added.

Baron Laanower stared his son down, "I know you too well Eaton. You're not SMART enough to come up with this on your own!"

Eaton glared back, "Well then. I guess I'm on my own now!"

"Oh no. That's where you're very wrong," Baroness Rika Laanower said. "In fact you will be under closer watch than you've ever been! I know now why the Goddess blessed us with your brother and sisters. To make up for you!"

The Baron asked the Headmaster, "Headmaster. My youngest daughter; instead of joining the Sisterhood as per family tradition, would you allow her to attend the Academy? You have my oath that she will be the epitome of nobility and will not bring one breath of scandal."

"How old is she," the Headmaster asked.

The Baroness said proudly, "two Headmaster. She just had her birthday last month."

That surprised the Headmaster, "ah. Yes. That being the case; I believe she'll be acceptable."

Eaton stared angrily at his parents, "turn me out; see if I care!"

"You'd like that wouldn't you? Unfortunately for all of us that cannot be allowed," Baron Cane Laanower remarked then leaned in close. "However we must protect your siblings from your corrupt influence as well. You've forced our hand, we will be sending you to Fortress Hawk's Rock."

The young noble stood stunned. Hawk's Rock Fortress was an old fortress that sat atop a mountain that rose out of an alpine lake surrounded be mountains that were even higher. To date, no one who had ever managed to escape it had lived. Most that tried, were only doing so to jump to their death. It was where families and kingdoms hid their embarrassments. The guards there were Solos, but the battalion was unspecified. They wore no markings on their plain dull silver armor. To be publicly humiliated was kinder and Eaton Laanower knew it.

Eaton protested, "you CAN'T send me there!"

"You left us NO choice Eaton," Rika Laanower replied. "I have no idea why you even thought you could get away with such behavior. It goes against all we've taught you! You've humiliated us with this. We'll be spending a fortune to make amends with the families and Kingdom you've offended. Hopefully the Solo Commander will accept restitution to keep us off the list!"

Cane nodded, "trying to kill a Battalion or Regimental Commander outside contracted battle is MURDER. You may have only provided the means and hired some fool to attempt it, but you are still guilty! More so than that boy who just had his arm taken off by the Commander! He could demand your life and be within rights. Right now the way YOU'RE acting, I'd be tempted to allow it without trying to negotiate!"

"I think we're done here Baron, Baroness. I believe that if you wait in the lounge. You will be able to conclude matters before you leave for home," the Headmaster suggested.

The Baron nodded," thank you Headmaster. Again, we offer our apologies for this debacle."

The Baron then turned to his Captain, "take my Son back to the tent and get him changed. Coordinate with this squad of Solos to ensure he doesn't try to wander off. He is to have no visitors or contact with anyone. No letters or notes from or to him."

The Captain nodded as did the Solo squad leader. Eaton was then roughly taken out.

Down in the arena Ben Suurlang had defeated Sera Arden and would be advancing to the second round later that day. In the ready areas the Gentry and Nobles were clamoring for information. All they knew was that the first match had taken a dramatic turn. A Third year Solo was actually a Regiment Commander that had faced a Gentry trying to murder him with a battle lance which resulted in a duel costing the Gentry his arm. A side note that a Noble had been removed by Solos and now there was a scramble to rearrange two match-ups.

Norr Luunos and Lara Tarika hurried to get into the Arena before their own match changed. They had nothing to worry about actually. Neither did Kern Winnower or Hevrin Aulder who faced off afterward, followed by Hirz Kez against Bron Zako. The bookmakers were more than glad as those contests were within their projections. Bron Zako winning was no real surprise. Kern Winnower was strong as well. Lara Tarika was a minor surprise.

Many were now paying close attention when Goron Favell enter the arena to face Klin Makaal. The Fourth year Solo held a strong showing. Lyle Matrileek was offered the chance to face Fiona Doucet in place of the match against Eaton Laanower and he quickly agreed. Many thought it amusing when he stood up from the third unhorsing to wave his helmet smiling broadly. Fiona, ever the sport, rode over to lean down and kiss his cheek in consolation. Some in the stands threw flowers down to her as she waved and rode out. Her squires went in and collected them for her.

Very few noticed the party of Laanowers quietly leaving and within the next hour their set-up team began to take down their encampment.

Jeffries Talfar sat waiting for his name to be called. He had quite a bit longer to wait. Across the way in the Royals' area, he could see Vaan Arento up to his usual antics while Jessica Weyden sat with Lamia Tuala. Both young women were listening intently to the captain of the Lurbourg Royal Guard.

He, too, had seen Eaton taken away by the Solos and not return. When one of his servants whispered into his ear that the entire Laanower family left quietly, with Eaton under guard, Jeffries became concerned. There were too many opponents that could challenge him. It was a First year that gave him the most disturbing news. Eaton was not only disqualified from Tournament, he had also been expelled and his family was sending him to Hawk's Rock Fortress. Jeffries would have been able to take him on within his own private squad, but that was not possible if Eaton was sent to Hawk's Rock. Once in; there was no release for any reason.

Jeffries already knew his opponent; Dagar Voluntas. Unfortunately he was not on good terms with the Noble. In truth, Lord Dagar hated him. Many did so Dagar wasn't alone. Dagar took special mention due to the fact that Jeffries insulted Dagar's twin sister Diena. Diena Voluntas attended the Institute of Finance and was named the Student President there. Talfar had made one of his usual comments; stating that she was attending the Institute to become a more illustrious whore. The Third year had chosen long ago to make hand-to-hand combat his hobby. Talfar ended up spending a day and a half in the infirmary. Sometimes irony caught up with a person.

Dagar looked over at Jeffries and smirked then walked over to stand in front of him.

"Tournament has arrived. Finally," Dagar said with a hungry smile.

Talfar tried to shrug off the attitude, "I'm surprised you made it to my level."

Dagar nodded and turned to walk away, "yeah. I can't believe I had to hold back so much."

The future Duke was about to scoff, but stopped cold. Fourth years' points were always posted before Third years'. It would be easy to know what one needed to do to follow a certain individual and either be more aggressive or hold back to match them. Jeffries Talfar now knew he had been practically hunted the whole time!

The matches for Aruna Moning against Fay Merfin, Doril Hunley against Moor Falek, Dirk Sharvot against Vaan Arento all passed quickly. Aruna won by points, Doril Hunley won by unhorsing Moor Falek twice and points for the win. Vaan Arento left his masquerade behind and completely decimated Dirk Sharvot.

Talfar found himself staring down the lanes at Dagar Voluntas. It took all five lances to name the winner. Jeffries won by one lucky lance on the fifth run. However Lord Voluntas had made him pay heavily to earn it. He felt like his shoulder had almost dislocated. Dagar had learned deception well. For quite a while he had favored his right wrist and even dropped a few lances during training during the year. Talfar discovered that it had all been a ruse.

When facing an opponent with a weakened lance wrist, a frequent tactic would be to lean forward and hold the shield angled to be flat. That would increase the impact shock to the lance. That also increased the impact shock to the shield as well. Talfar falling for the ruse did have an effect. His shoulder had been strained from the strong grudge-holding Third year.

For the rest of the matches; Danze Marow won against Debrie Beon. Ziekell Loxtonia lost to Jessica Weyden. Den Irth had been merciless against Ponz Gerrare. The winners all gathered in the arena to see their names move up the board. Points would not determine placement now.

Sir Belvin read off the board, "Den Irth and Jeffries Talfar. Patrick Fotens and Kern Winnower. Vaan Arento and Goron Favell. Fiona Doucet and Bron Zako. Jessica Weyden and Doril Hunley. Danze Marow and Aruna Moning. Ben Surlaang has sustained injury and is being withdrawn. That concludes today's rounds of contest. Please enjoy the evening!"

The crowd cheered and clapped then began to filter out.

 
 
 
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Chapter 19 of     The Nightmare Rider

Phoebe stepped into her chamber. Daalumos stood over in his usual place and Iia sat on the riser.

"The two of you enjoyed the spectacle today," Phoebe asked as she went to the bath.

The Succubus nodded excitedly and followed, "oh YES Mistress! I found myself not able to look away. The Riders looked so very serious and the crowd was almost a frenzy!"

"That's a good appraisal. Tournament is a very big event. Many look forward to it all year," Phoebe informed her.

Iia began to wash Phoebe's hair, "Mistress. Is it more than just a simple game of knocking each other off your horses?"

Phoebe tilted her head back to allow it, "Very much so. There are rules and scoring. I found it fascinating when I began to learn. It is an Art and a Science as the mortals say. As one told me, the whole objective is to take the energy from the ground and return it to the ground."

"I do not understand Mistress," Iia said and began to rinse Phoebe's hair.

Daalumos chuckled, "neither did we at first."

"The horse pushes against the ground to move. From the ground, up the legs to the rider. That energy then goes into the lance and stays until it hits the shield of the other rider. From the shield to the rider. From there it either dissipates or continues to the ground by the falling rider," Phoebe said.

Iia thought about that then shook her head, "I still do not understand."

Phoebe turned around to face her, "The horse pushes against the ground to move. That creates force. This force is then transferred using the lance to the shield. Where the lance hits the shield and the angle of the shield determines what happens. Force and angles. Leverage is what the mortals call it, using force to its most effectiveness. Mortals do not have powers, so they must use their science to do things. Hold your hand up."

Iia held up her hand. Phoebe placed her fist to it then pressed.

"This is force. I take it from the ground when I push with my feet. It transfers to my hand to yours. Now if I change the angle of my push, your hand moves in different directions," Phoebe explained then demonstrated, moving Iia's hand in different directions.

Iia smiled, "now I am beginning to understand Mistress."

Phoebe nodded, "yes. My fist is the lance and your hand is the shield. By changing the angle your shield faces, my lance will be redirected. "

After a few more minutes Iia laughed, "I understand now. How clever of the mortals!"

Phoebe settled back down into the water, "good. So what else have you learned of the mortals?"

"One thing is that appearance makes much of a difference. The more attractive a mortal is, the more others pay attention to them. Mostly though, its the challenge. The more a mortal seems to be unobtainable; the more the other mortals want them," the Succubus said.

Phoebe asked, "so if they can't take them; how do they get them?"

Iia pondered then smiled, "they lure the mortal to them!"

"Very good. How," Phoebe asked.

Iia said, "they entice. Their looks and manner draw the mortals in. Seduction."

"Go into the village and visit a tavern. You may very well see that happen. Go, but do not let them see or hear you," Phoebe instructed.

"Yes Mistress," Iia replied gleefully and rushed out.

Daalumos chuckled, "she is eager to learn."

Phoebe nodded, "good. Iia only knows use. She doesn't know seduction or pleasure. She was never allowed to interact with mortals before."

Phoebe then dipped under the water then lay back to rest. An hour later she climbed out and went back to her throne. Soon she slept. It was almost dawn when Iia returned.

The ready areas were bustling with activity. Third rounds were about to start. The match-up had been set since the end of the contests the day before. Den Irth and Jeffries Talfar. Patrick Fotens and Kern Winnower. Vaan Arento and Goron Favell. Fiona Doucet and Bron Zako. Jessica Weyden and Doril Hunley. Danze Marow and Aruna Moning. Expressions were ranging from serious to intense. Each rider knew the seriousness they now faced.

The Headmaster himself had inspected each lance that morning. Five assistants brought in lances that were inspected then bundled and set aside in the arena. None were tagged, the rider's squires would receive a bundle at random. The first contest went loudly as Irth and Talfar clashed. The fourth lance ended the contest with Den Irth slamming to the ground and leaving Jeffries Talfar the victor. Kern Winnower showed confidence facing the imposing figure of Patrick Fotens in the second contest but was unsuccessful in staying on his own horse three lances in a row.

Vaan Arento was merciless against Goron Favell. The solo held firm but lost to the Prince. Bron Zako suffered the same result when he faced Fiona Doucet. The Countess gave no quarter to the Solo and brought him down hard. Jessica Weyden rode against Doril Hunley and lost. The Princess showed her respect to him by saluting when she regained her footing after all three lances. Aruna Moning proved to be rather clever and managed to bring down Danze Marow.

Sir Belvin called a break in the Tournament for the remaining members to lunch then announced the match-ups. Aruna Moning against Fiona Doucet, Patrick Fotens against Vaan Arento, Doril Hunley against Jeffries Talfar. This unintentionally helped the bookmakers immensely. The odds so far were even for the contest of Hunley and Talfar. Two to one odds in favor of Patrick Fotens over Vaan Arento. Aruna though was holding at ten to one against Fiona.

"Mother, Father; I'm sorry. I just couldn't go any further," Jessica apologized to her parents.

Lellaa Weyden shook her head and smiled at her daughter, "you did well though. I am not disappointed."

Korvus Weyden nodded in approval, "You rode against very tough opponents and showed honor with each run. We are very proud of you, Jessica."

"What I do, what I don't do. It all comes back. I understand it all now," Jessica said solemnly. "I am Jessica Weyden. Princess of Lurbourg. I have a family and Kingdom. Any honor I earn or shame I fall to, is not my own."

The King of Lurbourg schooled his expression, "is that right? Go on Jessica."

Jessice nodded then stood straighter, "it is Father. I must do my best, at all times. But I must do so on my own. My skills and strength. My knowledge. I am not a Solo. Things do not start and stop with me. Things involving me also involve the family and Kingdom. Failing is not enjoyable. Failing because of lacking is acceptable."

"Acceptable," Lellaa asked in shock.

Jessica nodded, "yes Mother; acceptable. I accept that I must train harder. I will only be better if I BECOME better. To become better, I must train harder. That is the only way. Anything else would UN-acceptable. I am a Princess. The standards I am held to are higher."

The Queen smiled at her daughter, "and now I will stop calling you 'little girl', my daughter. Now come along; we'll get you cleaned up and have lunch."

Jessica smiled and went with Lamia to the Royals' Wardrobe.

Fiona had rushed through a quick clean-up and donned her alternate set of armor then joined her father for lunch.

"So," he prompted her.

Fiona sighed and looked over, "with a couple of exceptions things are going well."

The Count kept an even expression, "which translates to?"

"Oh Daddy, you're so transparent. I know what you want. You are SO convinced that Duke Talfar will agree to your terms if Jeffries and I marry," Fiona stated in a bored tone.

"Wrong my dear. He WILL," Count Doucet corrected.

Fiona shook her head, "no he won't. He never did so before and would have no reason to now. Not that it will matter."

"And what makes you say that," he asked.

Fiona leaned in, "Jeffries will have to face either Vaan Arento or Patrick Fotens to get to me. Neither one will show him ANY mercy. Provided he gets past Doril Hunley."

"Hunley? Isn't he a Solo with First Regiment," the Count asked.

"Yes. Patrick Fotens is the Commander of the Eighty-sixth Regiment," Fiona stated.

Count Doucet mulled that for a moment then asked, "let us say he does. He makes it to the finals with you. Will he win?"

Fiona sat back in her chair, "absolutely not."

"Oh," the Count asked.

Fiona went over to stand behind her father and hug him, "certainly. I'm going to utterly destroy that lecherous whore-monger. Too bad for your deal; DADDY."

Fiona kissed his cheek and smiled sweetly then walked out confidently, humming to herself.

Vaan Arento sat at a table with his family smiling as they talked.

"Well son; have you finally decided," King Brell Arento asked.

Holt Arento chuckled, "of course he has Father. Big brother will collect himself a bevy of girls!"

Raena swatted her younger brother, "shush Holt! Vaan must have his eye on one girl, and I'm sure she's wonderful. Isn't she Vaan?"

"Just one, sister? Is that all I'm allowed," Vaan asked slyly.

The Princess gave him a haughty glare, "of course! There can only be one BEST."

"She got you," Queen Veya chuckled.

Vaan regarded his younger sister warily then grabbed her into an hug and cuddled her, "just so CUTE! Alright. I'll introduce you after Tournament."

"Vaan! Off," Raena squealed and tried to push him away.

"But you're just so huggable! and ADORABLE! I have to keep you just like this," Vaan cooed then made loud smooching noises at her ear.

The young Princess struggled while demanding to be freed amid laughter by her younger sibling and parents.

Duke Talfar glared at Jeffries, "all your schemes are paying off."

"No idea to what you mean. Father," Jeffries stated.

Duke Talfar paused a moment then stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back, "oh you are INDEED lucky. Tournament is still ongoing and you are still in competition."

Jeffries stayed silent. He knew he had the advantage for the moment. However, its was only for the moment and he knew that as well. His father couldn't express his true displeasure, lest he risk Jeffries having to withdraw because of it.

The Duke leaned directly in and hissed, "I advise you not to lose. For YOUR sake. I hear that your lackey, Laanower, is taking up a new residence. Perhaps you too, could do with a change of locale?"

"You wouldn't," Jeffries glared back.

"Well now. You see I want this deal with Count Doucet. Which I will only get if you marry Fiona. Fiona will only marry you if she loses Tournament. I see three people definitely in the way of that. One of whom has good reason to put you down hard. Another that would do so just for the sheer enjoyment of it and one that has a personal stake. Fotens, a Solo COMMANDER. Arento, a Prince with peculiar tastes. A Doucet herself, for obvious reasons; she hates you. No more lackey, no more tricks. You had better be as good as you think you are son. Otherwise you are going to find yourself in a new situation," Duke Talfar said grimly.

Over in the Solos' ready area discussion was about everything but Tournament. Commanders were looking over records of the unaffiliated Solos and making notes. The subject of the new barracks at the farm was still being discussed, even though that was where all the Solos had made their camps. Workshops over the break were being scheduled.

"Commander Fotens," one of the other Commanders spoke up. "Who will be in charge while you are away on assignments?"

Patrick pointed to another, "Rassan has no official affiliation. I believe he should hold the rank of Captain of Second Platoon. When he graduates and is recruited to an official Regiment, the ranking unaffiliated Third year Solo may take up the rank for the following term. The Captain of Second Platoon will be in command after my graduation."

Many were nodding their approval and it was agreed to. The bells began to chime to signal the competitors to return.

Fiona and Aruna had the first match-up. Much credit had to go to Aruna. She had been studying the Countess intently. The first lance went to Fiona, but Aruna managed to sneak in a clever feint and took the second lance in surprise. The smile on Fiona's face was evident as she remounted with her visor up. The Duchess suddenly felt as if she had just stirred a hornets' nest. That became evident when Fiona then brought her down twice in a row.

Vaan Arento sat firmly in the saddle wearing his gold-tone armor with purple accents gleaming in the afternoon sun. Opposite him sat the imposing black-armored figure of Patrick Fotens. They ran for all five lances. The first went to Patrick followed by the next two for the Prince. Patrick took the fourth on points and the fifth he brought Vaan down.When the Prince regained his feet, not only did he salute Patrick; he shook hands with him. Vaan rode out waving to the stands amid cheers.

Doril Hunley rode against Jeffries Talfar for four lances. The First Regiment Solo claimed the first lance but the remaining three went to Talfar. One by points and two unhorsed him. Jeffries kept to the seriousness of the level they were at and refrained from his usual trash-talk. He did however completely ignore the Solo unless running the lanes. He also had utter disregard for the crowd in the stands

Sir Belvin then called the three out.

Loudly the instructor announced, "the three of you will draw lot. Two will compete first with a second chance for one against the third. The two victors will go to Finals after sunset!"

Fiona being the student president insisted the two boys draw first. Patrick drew and held up a stick with a red end. Jeffries reached forward and pulled one as well. Fiona was given the stick with a blue end.

"The match up will be; Commander Patrick Fotens against Jeffries Talfar. The victor will go on to the final against whomever wins in the contest against Countess Fiona Doucet," Sir Belvin announced. "Contest will begin in ten minutes!"

 
 
 
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Chapter 20   The finale of   The Nightmare Rider

The crowded stands were cheering when Jefries Talfar entered the arena riding Pendragon; his white Cavalier model WarHorse. He still wore his regular armor; gold with red accent pieces and red plumes atop his helm.

"Lord Jeffries Talfar of Bergitan in the Northern lane," Sir Belvin announced then turned. "In the Southern lane; Commander Patrick Fotens of the Eighty-Sixth Freelancers!"

The cheering turned to a roar as Patrick halted Daemon inside the arena. The Commander's insignia gleamed against the dull black finish of his armor with green accents. The main body being black; parts such as the Pauldrons, Couters and Poleyns were green. The Pauldrons of Solos would feature their Regiment affiliation. In Patrick's case a black Eighty-Six contrasting the green background. The Commander's insignia was affixed high on the left side of his chest along with his name and platoon.

Patrick closed his visor then took the lance and moved Daemon into starting position. Jeffries snapped his own visor down and grabbed his lance. Pendragon side-stepped to the starting position and Talfar shifted to settle into his saddle. Patrick merely lifted his lance to signal his readiness as the official took his place at the mid-point. Jeffries signaled he too, was ready.

The official looked to both sides again after holding the flag out then yelled as loud as he could, lifted the flag and ran clear. "GO!"

Pendragon hopped forward then bolted forward to race for the other end. Daemon lunged into stride towards the end. Talfar sat leaning slightly forward in the saddle; shield angled outward with his lance forward of line and seemed to be aiming for the center of Patrick's shield. Patrick sat straight in his own saddle, shield flat with his lance slightly behind his line, also aiming center shield.

Jeffries had seen Patrick earlier and knew one of his tactics was shorten stride just before clash so that his horse would be at full extension of launch so he increased the last bit of speed from Pendragon when he drew closer to counter it. At the last second he angled his lance to the left and up; believing Patrick would angle his shield down and out at the clash.

The crowd cheered loudly as they watched the two riders streaking towards each other. Suddenly there was almost a collective gasp as they crossed. Jeffries Talfar wanted to bellow with rage to see his strategy thwarted in the blink of an eye. Patrick had thrust his shield forward and angled back to meet the lance. Doing so, in effect, caught it. Patrick then pulled back and twisted in his saddle. This action pulled the lance harmlessly high and back in toward the lanes, yet spun his own lance directly into Talfar's shield. Jeffries felt the connection to his shield. It was a hammer-blow! Patrick had compensated as well. Instead of hitting center, he hit low to the right.

Time felt like it stood still for Jeffries Talfar then he felt the impact shock and began to fly backwards amid a flurry of shattered lance bits. The noise all sounded faraway as he slammed into the sandy floor of the arena. He didn't stop when he hit the ground. Jeffries had so much momentum that he had been turning in mid-air and when he hit the ground he ended up rolling one and a half times. The stands roared in excitement.

Up in the stands Count Doucet shook his head, "I hate to say this to you; but that Solo Commander is a brilliant tactician."

"Yes. And my son is an incredible fool," Duke Talfar remarked. "He already crossed paths with him before and suffered from it. I understand the Commander was reluctant to hand over punishment to the Academy."

"I see. So he is making an example of him," Count Doucet said with understanding.

The Duke shook is head slightly, "no; I think he is just expressing his displeasure over the whole affair."

On the other side sitting beside her parents, Jessica Weyden winced when Talfar slammed into the ground and rolled. A hand gently rested on her shoulder.

"Aren't you glad you're NOT him," a familiar voice said into her ear.

"VERY much Highness," Jessica affirmed to Prince Vaan then turned to his parents. "Your Majesties."

Both nodded back to her kindly then went back to watching intently while clapping moderately. Jessica regarded them a moment longer then turned back.

'They're applause is polite but their eyes say they approve of Talfar being hit so hard and unhorsed. They must not like the Talfar family I guess,' Jessica thought to herself.

Down below; Jeffries Talfar struggled to get to his feet then retrieved his shield and lance. When he turned to mount Pendragon he saw Patrick Fotens had already returned to his starting point and taken up a new lance.

"Bastard! Sitting there mocking me," Talfar snarled to himself then climbed up onto the horse.

He rode back, tossed the lance aside and took a new one. He shifted to settle in then signaled he was ready. The official had already taken his stance, noted Patrick's readiness and held the flag out.

"GO," the official yelled then raised the flag and ran clear.

Patrick had Daemon leaning back, as if coiled, and sprang forward when the flag raised. The Warhorse launched itself forward into full stride and barreled down the lane. He sat slightly leaning forward, shield angled down with his lance even with his line. It appeared to be aiming high center to Talfar's shield.

Talfar spurred Pendragon to bolt into a run. With the second stride he was re-settled and leaning slightly forward, shield flat with his lance even with his line. He was aiming center left. He tried to check his opponent's speed and adjust Pendragon's stride. The roar coming from the stands echoed inside his helmet.

Daemon's stride was adjusted for the fourth time as they closed on each other and Patrick did the unexpected. He leaned back and twisted slightly away. His shield now angled up and outward. He also pulled his lance back from his line, causing its angle to change. The crowd watched in shock as Talfar's lance glanced up and away while Patrick's lance connected low and left as it broke. Essentially Jeffries Talfar was lifted up from his saddle and carried for a moment before dropping. Natural instinct took over and he flailed wildly as he fell to land in a heap.

Patrick rode back past him as he managed to catch his breath. The urge to punch something was difficult to resist. Slowly he stood up then picked up his shield and lance. Many called out encouragement as Jeffries climbed onto Pendragon. The WarHorse trotted back to the starting point. Jeffries tossed the lance away and signaled for water. Quickly he drank then snapped his visor back down and took the new lance. Anger festered within the young Noble.

"DAMN him! I am NOT going to lose to a damn Solo," Jeffries Talfar swore within his helmet.

At the other end of the lane Patrick waited at the starting position with a new lance. Few had noticed that he had shifted to settle into his saddle after taking position. He suspected Talfar was practically beside himself with fury now. He decided now was the time to give him a glimmer of hope. When Talfar signaled he was ready the official held out the flag.

The official raised the flag and ran clear, "GO!

Both horses bolted forward and tore down the lanes. Patrick sat just barely leaning back with his shield flat and his lance forward of his line aiming center of Talfar's shield. In such a way was sure to make Talfar believe he would do something at the last second. Daemon's stride was adjusted to be off when they crossed.

Talfar leaned forward in his saddle, angled his shield down and outward with his lance held forward of his line. He checked the stride of Daemon and adjusted Pendragon's to counter it. They closed on each other and strides were adjusted again. Finally came the clash. Talfar made the first contact and for a moment, was confused. Patrick's lance hit and broke against the shield as he was pushed back. He almost laid back when the lance began to slide up the shield and over his shoulder. Talfar felt the strike to his shield, but it felt dampened compared to the previous two. The crowd cheered at Talfar's success.

The horses slowed then turned and trotted back to their sides. Talfar had flipped up his visor before riding back and smirked as he passed. Patrick showed no reaction even though his visor remained down. Back at the start point Patrick casually exchanged the broken lance for a new one then took position and signaled. Jeffries tossed the lance and drank from the water bottle again then snapped down his visor. He took a new lance and trotted Pendragon to the start.

"It was points but I showed him. He must be weakening," Jeffries smiled inside the helmet and signaled he was ready.

The official had already took his place and held his flag out then looked to Talfar. Jeffries Talfar signaled he was ready.

"GO," the official yelled as he raised his flag and ran clear.

Jeffries spurred Pendragon to jump forward and take stride then settled to lean forward. He angled his shield outward and held the lance even with his line. The plan was to aim center left. Pendragon's stride was adjusted and he barreled toward the opposite end of the lane.

Patrick had Daemon lunge forward and take stride. He sat straight in the saddle with his shield flat. His lance was slightly behind his line and aimed high center. Daemon's stride was adjusted. Quickly they closed on each other.

Up in the stands Fiona watched the two riders streaking towards each other.

"Is Talfar going to unhorse him this time," Aruna Moning asked her.

The Countess shook her head, "no. Fotens toyed with him on the last lance. Jeffries is about to be decimated."

Jeffries aimed his lance as he smiled. A smile that dropped to a look of utter horror.

"NO," Jeffries tried to shout.

Daemon's stride had changed as the lances began to cross. The back hooves were planted then pushed off. Patrick threw himself forward in the saddle and thrust his lance. The bold move also changed the angles of shield and lance. His shield now angle up and outward. The lance now aimed low and left of center.

The move took Talfar completely by surprise. He had thought Patrick was weakening from constant performance at high level. The impact hit harder than ever before. Patrick's lance shattered as the young Noble was practically catapulted, his own lance glancing harmlessly off Patrick's shield to remain intact.

The stands went to dead silence and many had sprung to their feet in shock. Awestruck they watched as Talfar rose high and flew back to slam into the arena floor and roll over several times. More spectators began to stand up when he lay unmoving. Quickly the officials rushed out. Carefully they turned him over then lifted his visor. A Trainer checked him over then broke an ampoule and began to wave it under Talfar's nose. A moment later Jeffries winced the grimaced.

"What happened," Talfar asked.

The Trainer ignored the question, "can you move everything?"

Slowly he flexed his fingers, hands, wrists, elbows then shoulders. That was followed by lower extremeties.

"I can move. Did I even hit him," Talfar asked as they helped him up then saw the Solo Commander sitting stride his horse looking down on him.

Slowly Patrick raised his visor. The expression he wore was of bland acknowledgement. Comprehension hit Talfar like a brick thrown through a window. Fotens had feined weakness and he became over-confident. Without word the Solo Commander turned his horse and rode away.

Sir Belvins announced, "VICTOR; COMMANDER PATRICK FOTENS!"

Duke Talfar went down to the Nobles' ready area. Jeffries was having his armor removed.

"That was quite the hit," the Duke commented.

Jeffries looked up, "I'll be ready to ride in a few minutes."

The Duke nodded and left. Jeffries looked over to the other side. Fiona Doucet was arriving and began changing into her armor. One of his squires applied an ice compress to his left arm and another across his shoulders. The cold began to ease the soreness. However nothing would ease the pang of humiliation of being so gullible to fall for the Solo's tactic. He would have to bring Fiona down quickly. A drawn-out contest would decrease his chances for success. In thirty minutes he would be facing her. He saw her father, the Count, approach her and the two talked quietly.

Patrick was in the Solos' ready area and took off the upper components of his armor. He used a cool wet towel to wipe down his chest and back then dunked his head in a bucket of water. His squires were using cloths to wipe the inside of his armor. He toweled off then slipped on a dry under shirt and waited for the match to start. He would watch Doucet and Talfar since he would be facing the winner.

"Countess Fiona Doucet of Sparzo in the Northern Lane," Sir Belvin announced then had to wait for the cheers to die down enough to announce. "Lord Jeffries Talfar of Bergitan in the Southern lane!"

The crowd's cheering was less for his announcement. It was easy to discern the crowd favorite. Fiona Doucet turned and waved. Her silver tone armor had a lavender hue to it and lavender accents. Her helmet held lavender and white plumes. Her armor also made her feminine charms very obvious. Her WarHorse was a white Paladin model named Charlemagne gleamed brightly as did her armor.

Up in the stands Count Doucet turned to Duke Talfar, "something that has been on my mind since yesterday; What happened to the Paladin model WarHorse I gave Jeffries? He looks to be riding the same Cavalier model as last year."

"What? You mean you didn't have it taken in for replacement," Duke Talfar asked.

The look of confusion appeared to be genuine to the Count. Had Jeffries lied to his own father?

Crossly the Count replied, "I did NOT."

Duke Talfar could see he was truly angry, "I'll find out after the match."

Just outside one of the ramps to the stands, Patrick Fotens stood looking into the arena below. Talfar would have nothing new for him, but Doucet would still have several tricks in her bag. Even if this contest went to all five lances. He watched her intently.

Both had signaled readiness when the official took his place then held out the flag.

He raised the flag and ran clear yelling, "GO!"

Charlemagne reared then jumped into a run carrying Fiona down the lane. She sat straight in her saddle but with a slightly inward twist. Her lance was held forward of her line and appeared to be aimed center of Talfar's shield. Inside her helmet, Fiona grinned malevolently.

Jeffries had Pendragon lunge forward into long strides. He leaned forward with his shield angled down. The lance was held even with his line and aimed high center. He believed she would lean forward at the last second to brace the impact. Quickly they closed on each other.

The lances crossed each other and Talfar's mind went blank to see Fiona pull her lance back then ram forward high center of his shield. The tactic distracted him to forget about correcting his aim. Jeffries lance glanced off Fiona's shield to swing back toward the lane then be pushed back by her lance so hard, he flipped over backwards and landed on his back in the sand.

The crowd called out in surprise, with some even cat-calling. Many simply cheered for Fiona when she rode back by making Charlemagne prance while she smiled and held up the broken lance to the crowd. She put on her little show all the way back to her end and exchanged lances then snapped her visor.

Jeffries was swearing the whole time as he got to his feet, collected his equipment and went back to his end of the lanes. The lance was intact which infuriated him all the more. He tried to calm himself while the official checked both sides for signals. Finally the flag was held out.

"GO," the official yelled as he raised the flag and ran clear.

Jeffries spurred Pendragon to bolt into a run and tore down the lane toward Fiona. Again he leaned forward in the saddle, but angled his shield back and inward. The lance was held even with his line as he double-checked the stride of Fiona's horse.

"You are going know YOUR place Bitch," Jeffries swore within his helmet.

Fiona had made Charlemagne hop twice then break into a run heading for Talfar. She sat forward in the saddle with her shield angled down. The lance was held even with her line and again looked to be aimed center of his shield. Again the visor hid her grin from the spectators.

As the lances crossed Fiona's timing was once again flawless. She leaned back instead and dropped the angle of her lance as she twisted in, slightly away from the lanes. Talfar's lance slid across her shield up and away safely and an instant later her lance jammed into the lower part of his shield to yank him out of the saddle and drop him straight to the ground.

Fiona just laughed as he screamed out profanity at her from the pain. With her visor up; she blew kisses to the crowd as Charlemagne pranced back to her end of the lanes.

Duke Talfar cleared his throat, "Lorn. I get the very distinct impression that Fiona may actually hate him."

"I would very much like to NOT make a speculation of my own if you don't mind Harless," Count Doucet replied.

The Duke shook his head, "I can tell where this contest is going. I believe the real contest will be between Fiona and that young Commander. Fotens I believe is his name."

Over by the ramp a voice asked softly, "well Commander. Any thoughts?"

"I would say it's fairly obvious Arento. Doucet is enjoying herself," Patrick commented blandly.

Prince Vaan chuckled, "I concur. She is indeed having a GRAND time. I have no doubt the final contest will be the two of you. Please don't think ill of me for cheering her."

"She's your girlfriend Arento. I'd be surprised if you didn't," Patrick remarked in a low voice.

Vaan regarded him warily, "really?"

Patrick continued to watch the arena floor as Fiona took position and spoke softly, "you two hid it well. I just happened to see you by accident. I imagine her father would be furious if he knew."

"Find me later and I'll ensure your discretion is properly compensated," Vaan remarked then wandered away.

Fiona had signaled her readiness as did Jeffries, only angrily. The official held out his flag as the crowd lowered their cheering some. She knew for certain Jeffries was raging, she was also using it against him.

The official raised his flag and ran clear as he yelled, "GO!"

Fiona had been making Charlemagne prance in place sideways for a moment until the flag went up then made him rear up then launch into a run. She rode leaning back in her saddle with her shield angled back and up. Fiona's lance was held back from her line and aimed for low center. Charlemagne's stride was adjusted shorter.

Pendragon hopped once then broke into a run. Jeffries adjust the stride longer as he sat straight in the saddle with his shield angled flat. His lance was held forward of his line and he was aiming for center low of her shield. He checked and adjust the stride again.

The crowd went completely silent as the two riders closed on each other until the clash was heard. Fiona's split-second timing was once again perfect. She suddenly threw herself forward in the saddle and thrust the lance out to hit high center of Talfar's shield and shatter. Her shield deflected his lance once again to glance off harmlessly intact.

Again Jeffries Talfar felt horror as he was stripped from his saddle and launched backward to land in a heap. The crowd roared in approval of Fiona's skill as she slowed Charlemagne to a trot then turned him to prance back while waving to the crowd. Talfar regained his feet as his squires collected the shield and lance.

"VICTOR; COUNTESS FIONA DOUCET. THE FINAL CONTEST WILL BE IN THIRTY MINUTES. COUNTESS DOUCET AND COMMANDER FOTENS," Sir Belvin announced.

Jeffries Talfar stormed out of the arena. Outside the tunnel he yanked off his helmet, threw it to the ground then kicked it away.

Iia stood in a shadow next to Daalumos, "Lust. This is very fascinating! The pretty mortal girl was enjoying tormenting the boy. I felt hatred coming from her."

"As did I. You should not be surprised. Many find animosity against a competitor; it justifies defeating them. The mortals claim this is peaceful but I see otherwise. You have as well. The mortal yesterday that our Mistress faced first. That was nothing but pure intent to kill," Daalumos explained.

The succubus shook her head, "there is no prize to win. Why kill?"

Daalumos chuckled, "there is no official prize to win. Many have private deals; mainly the futures of their children. Alliance through marriage. Marriage is the mortals' way of exclusive coupling. A pact to spend their remaining time together. Many do so out of love. Usually the lower classes. It is very common for these higher class mortals to arrange the mates of their children. Not so different from our world. The boy was paid to eliminate a formidable threat."

"He did that to benefit someone else? Why," Iia asked.

Daalumos quivered with mirth, "his reward was substantial, but it pales in comparison to that of the one who hired him expected to get. Pay attention. The one that hired was named Laanower. Laanower has alliegence to Talfar, the one who was just defeated. I discovered that this Talfar boy is in arrangement to the girl that just defeated him. The details I do not know, but can guess. At the least, he must defeat her to win the arrangement. At most; she must win all contests against her to keep her freedom."

Iia considered that, "so this Laanower mortal benefits an alliance with this Talfar. Talfar benefits an arrangement with the girl. Laanower tried to ensure his ally's victory because it would benefit him. Is this correct?"

"It is very possible. The question remains; did this Talfar participate in some way or was Laanower really acting on his own," the BloodLust mused.

Iia pondered that, "that is a good question."

Both went silent suddenly as they felt a presence.

"Do you feel," Iia asked.

Daalumos growled, "yes. A High Demon is here. I see him now. It is Barbatos!"

The succubus shivered, "Duke Barbatos? Here? Why?"

"Because he was SENT," Daalumos replied. "We will stay as we are. It is time for our Mistress to ride again."

Sir Belvin announced, "The final contest. In the Southern lane; Commander Patrick Fotens of the Eighty-Sixth Freelancers! In the Northern lane; Countess Fiona Doucet of Sparzo!"

The crowd cheered loudly for the two. To everyone's surprise Fiona began walking her horse down the lane. She had not taken a lance. Patrick handed off his lance and rode forward to meet her. They stopped at the mid-point.

"Commander Fotens I've been looking forward to this for quite some time," Fiona said after saluting.

Patrick returned the salute, "I'm sure you have Doucet. I'm also fairly certain you want to put on show."

Fiona smiled broadly, "absolutely! I'm going to bring everything I have to this contest, Patrick."

"You'll need it Doucet. Daemon; battle," Patrick said then saluted and turned his horse around to return to the starting position.

Fiona saluted with a smile and rode back to her end. She waved to the crowd again then closed her visor and took up the lance and moved to the starting position and signaled. Patrick closed his own visor and took the lance from Bess. Daemon side-stepped over to the starting position and signaled his readiness. The official had taken his place and held out the flag as the crowd went completely silent.

The official checked both riders then raised his flag to run clear as he yelled, "GO!"

Daemon lunged forward and took stride. Patrick rode straight in his saddle with the shield flat. He held his lance even with his line and aimed center of her shield. Stride was adjusted as the WarHorse traveled down the lane toward the opposite end.

Fiona spurred Charlemagne to jump and run. She adjusted his stride shorter and settled to ride leaning forward in her saddle with her shield angled in and upward. Her lance just forward of her line and she was aiming low and left of his shield. The crowd was mixed in their cheering now. Almost half and half for the two riders. As the lances crossed the real tactics were used.

Fiona twisted slightly inward to enhance her shield's angle. this also gave her something to brace her lance against as her target changed to be dead center. Patrick leaned forward to brace against her strike and angled his shield down then thrust the lance forward.

The clash was louder than ever as both lances shattered on impact. Fiona managed to deflect the bulk of the strike but still felt herself turned even more in the saddle. Her lance slammed into Patrick's shield and almost exploded but enough force remained to push him back, almost out of the saddle. The crowd roared as the two riders passed each other.

Patrick slowed Daemon to a trot then a wide turn and headed back for his end. Fiona brought Charlemagne to a stop and wheeled him about to return to her end. They saluted each other in passing. Patrick tosed the damaged lance aside and took the new one from Bess and moved over to the start position.

Fiona exchanged lances with a smile then pranced Charlemagne over to the start point, closed her visor and signaled to the official. He looked down to Patrick and accepted the signal then held out the flag. Again the crowd grew silent as they waited.

"GO," the official yelled as he raised the flag and ran clear.

Charlemagne reared up and hopped forward then began to run. Fiona leaned forward and angled her shield down. Her lance was slightly back from her line. Fiona was aiming center high of his shield. She had to adjust stride twice on the way down the lane.

Patrick spurred Daemon to bolt. He sat leaning back in the saddle but had his shield angled down. The lance was held behind his line and aimed high and left. Fiona made Charlemagne launch into his run and settled herself to ride straight in her saddle with a slight inward twist. Her shield was angled down and in with lance held even with her line. She was aiming center low.

The crowd was cheering them on as the lances crossed. Patrick shifted to turn outward as her lance struck but jammed his own low and to the left on her shield before breaking. Fiona had threw herself forward and maintained her angle as she thrust the lance forward. Patrick's tactic caught her by surprise and the Countess was immediately flung off her horse as her lance snapped before swinging back toward the lanes.

A roar erupted from the stands. Quickly Fiona got to her feet, raised her visor and waved to the crowd then saluted Patrick as he rode back past; returning the salute. She grabbed her shield and lance then mounted her horse and rode back.

"Wow! That was something," Fiona exclaimed handing off the lance then took a drink of water.

The squire nodded, "yes my Lady. He's very skilled. Its impossible to predict his tactics until the last second. Much like yourself."

"That's why I've been looking forward to facing him. He's brilliant," Fiona replied then closed her visor and took a new lance.

The crowd called out support for Fiona as she pranced her horse over to the starting point. She raised her lance to show them her confidence. Patrick raised his own lance toward her which she did the same, indicating they both would continue. The official had taken his place and noted both of them showing readiness. He held the flag out as the crowd quieted some.

"GO," the official yelled then raised the flag and ran clear.

Charlemagne hopped and broke into a run. Fiona settled in to ride straight in her saddle with her shield flat and lance even with her line. She was aiming once again for center of his shield and adjusted Charlemagne's stride. Patrick had Daemon bolt from the start and settle into long strides. He rode leaning slightly back with his shield angled down and lance held forward of his line. Stride was adjust just as they closed.

Fiona twisted in and brace her lance to aim high left then dropped to center left as Charlemagne launched himself forward. Patrick wasn't able to counter the second move in time as he had threw himself forward in the saddle and aimed high center on her shield. His lance broke then slid away while her lance burst at the tip and bounced back at the shield to push him almost flat to the horse. The move dragged him out of the saddle, but luckily his feet stayed in the stirrups, keeping him on Daemon.

The crowd roared in excitement as Fiona had once again, taken the lead in the contest. She was leading in points with Patrick trailing not far behind. Before the match started they were even in points. Now Fiona was ahead. The horses were turned about and the riders saluted each other in passing. Many in the stands now stood as they called out, clapping and stomping their feet. Even the Headmaster was joining in the ruckus with a smile.

Lances were exchanged. Patrick had stopped to drink water before resuming and walked Daemon to the starting point. Fiona waved and blew kisses to the crowd with a broad smile. It was evident she was having a grand time. She closed her visor and took the new lance then pranced her horse over to the starting point. One lance remained after this run. The official took his place and noted both riders' ready signal. He held the flag out as the crowd dropped a level of volume.

The flag went up and the official ran clear yelling out, "GO!"

It was evident the excitement had reached the official too. Charlemagne reared up then lunged into his run. Fiona settled in to lean forward. She angled her shield outward and up with her lance forward of her line. Fiona was aiming low center of Patrick's shield. Patrick had Daemon bounce twice to get into his run then tear down the lane with good strides. He rode straight in his saddle with his shield angled in and down. The lance was held behind his line and aiming center high.

The stomping and clapping was at an almost fevered pitch as the two riders closed on each other. As the lances crossed Patrick pushed his shield forward when Fiona pulled back. When her lance streaked forward he turned to match it, shoving the lance to the side as he rammed his lance forward high right before shattering. Many yelled in shock as the Countess struggled to stay in her saddle from the spin Patrick had caused her. Fiona's lance had glanced harmlessly off his shield.

Barely Fiona regained her position, almost at the cost of discarding her lance which would have awarded Patrick more points. With her visor up, she saluted him in passing with a smile. For her, this was the greatest contest she had ever ridden! At her end the squire handed her a water bottle and she drank deeply.

"Last lance my Lady," the squire stated.

Fiona immediately turned Charlemagne around and trotted to the middle. Puzzled, Patrick rode out to meet her.

Proudly Fiona announced loudly, "THIS IS THE BEST CONTEST I'VE EVER RIDDEN! COMMANDER FOTENS, YOU'VE SET THE GREATEST CHALLENGE I'VE EVER HAD!"

"If that be the case Doucet, bring forth all you can muster and see it to the very end," Patrick said firmly.

The Headmaster took the announcer's platform as Sir Belvin himself strode out carrying the flag.

"One thing is certain. The Academy hasn't seen a contest this close in MANY years. TAKE YOUR STARTING POSITIONS FOR THE FINAL LANCE," the Headmaster announced.

Both saluted each other and the crowd then rode back to their sides. Visors down and lances ready, they signaled to Sir Belvin. He nodded to them and held the flag out and the crowd went silent and still.

Suddenly the flag went up and Sir Belvin ran clear, "GO!"

Daemon lunged forward as did Charlemagne. Patrick leaned forward in his saddle, shield angled back and inward. His lance even with his line and aiming center of her shield. Fiona sat straight in her saddle with her shield flat. She held her lance back from her line and she too, aimed center of his shield. They both adjusted strides as they closed on each other. As the lances crossed Both thrust their lances forward. Fiona's shift changed her position before Patrick could compensate. His lance hit high on her shield and snapped. Her lance had dipped just enough to jam in low center of his shield and shattered. Patrick was pitched off backwards as the crowd roared.

Fiona squealed in excitement as she brought Charlemagne to a trot and turned in a wide arc. She yanked off her helmet to reveal her face lit with elation. Patrick was on his feet with no trouble and removed his own helmet. He saluted Fiona as she rode by triumphantly. She dismounted and saluted him.

"Patrick Fotens. Honored that I am to have ridden against you today; I'm also sad that I will not be doing so again next year. One day I hope there is some peaceful competition we can meet again at," Fiona stated.

Patrick nodded, "who knows what the future holds Doucet. If there is and I am there; I'll look forward to it."

"This year's victor of Tournament; FIONA DOUCET, COUNTESS OF SPARZO," the Headmaster announced and the crowd roared again.

Phoebe sat on her throne resting as Iia sat on the riser and Daalumos stood to the side. All three watched the doorway. Finally a bearded old man walked through and stopped.

"You are the new Goddess of Nightmares. Phoebe," the old man guessed.

Phoebe looked down at him, "I am. What brings you before me Barbatos, Duke of Demons?"

Duke Barbatos stated, "I was summoned to make enquiry. What is your stance upon the disposition of Phoetor? Will you claim his remaining property in holding or for your own? Are you preparing for war in the Underworld?"

Phoebe stared at the High Demon, "let him rot in the abyss. I care not for any of that. I have no interest in the goings-on in Underworld. You may go."

In a rush of flames Duke Barbatos left them, "Enjoy your rule Phoebe; Goddess of Nightmares."

Iia looked up, "what do we do now Mistress?"

Phoebe smiled finally, "whatever I want Iia. Now there is no disputing my reign."

Daalumos shrieked in delight as Iia giggled seductively. They had won without an argument or fight.

Fiona's victory nullified the arrangement to marry Jeffries Talfar. At the celebration that night, Vaan Arento proposed and Fiona accepted gleefully. Jeffries Talfar had to admit to his father and Count Doucet that he had sold the gifted Warhorse from Count Doucet to finance Eaton Laanower's ploy. After graduation he was quietly sent to Hawk's Rock fortress. Jessica Weyden finally became friendly with a third year Marquis during her Fourth year. They married after his graduation. Patrick Fotens faded into obscurity after promoting a captain to Commander. Sania Malzeek graduated with high honors and Tournament champion then led a force to decimate the Noble who's soldiers had brutalized and murdered her birth mother. Phoebe became widely known as the Goddess of Nightmares and many temples were built to her, many prayed and her power grew. Eventually she stormed Marduk Kurios' fortress then sealed him within the Abyss with Phoetor and never returned to the Underworld.

 
 
 
Well readers, so ends the tale of the Nightmare Rider. Thank you very much for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it. I sat in a quandry as to what I will do with this story when i finished it, it was the previous chapter that I finally decided. I will be leaving it up for free reading; however, The Nightmare Rider will not be open for fan-fiction. I don't see a sequel to this story either. I have a couple of things to take care of and then I will start work on my next project, which I hope you will enjoy as well. thanks once again to all the readers for your support, comments and kudos. Its been quite the Ride!