Eastgate, as the town by the Randall castle was called, was the commercial center for the merchant caravans that made the long journey up north all year round. With the waning of summer, with the grounded snows a little less heavy on the mountainous routes from the occasional rain, it was a particularly busy time of the year for the prime castle of the duchy.
Athusa had gone to Eastgate for her planned visits before her people: maintaining her usual schedule with a dignified strength. The face of the Randall princess was a familiar sight to the townspeople for her frequent hands-on work with the surveys and they quickly gathered around her to pay condolences.
Whenever they needed her, Eucemon hears in passing, she had helped resolve quite a few disputes even quicker than the local jury presiding judges. Therefore, now that she needed them too, the townspeople came to bring all forms of small gifts. Carlene was attempting to decline some of these, only to be loaded quickly with an armful of sentimental merchandise the moment she looked away: mostly cosmetics from the south or food supplements from those that worry so about the princess' health.
Some inquired when will the culprit that harmed their lord be brought to justice.
Eucemon watched, seeing her wear a faint smile. She looked very tired, he was not surprised by how little she had slept, but Athusa seemed to enjoy the townspeople's company, asking them how were they doing too. At least compared to the events of the previous day, it perhaps was some measure of solace that even if the ones she had hoped most to remain loyal to the duchy did not, at the least before the earnest townspeople nothing had changed. A mid-aged vendor, bringing her small grandson along by one hand, stopped to offer a bouquet of colorful flowers: a kindly gesture, given how rare flowers were in the north and their fair cost.
"May our beautiful lady always be well." Came the sincere wish.
"Oh? She does seem quite well liked."
Eucemon's gaze shifted to his side. It was Astana, the youngest of his personal guard: a genius of fourteen who was deadly with shortswords and even deadlier with daggers. He seemed unassuming with his messy brown hair and eyes, a commoner by background, and he seemed to blend right in with the crowd. Astana had an unusual style of martial technique, sharp and sudden, and the boy was armed with an even sharper wit and tongue.
"Un-un, Astana. Be respectful to our prince's betrothed." Freya drew close too, the fall of her strawberry blonde hair still clear beneath her plain hood. Her claymore that was usually strapped to her back she had further bound by strips of cloth so that the imperial arms looked a little less eye catching. Amusement glittered in her sky blue eyes.
Eucemon glanced in the other direction. Sure enough there was Gilraine, the captain of the squad. The knight looked solemn, jaw tightly set, and stood out so with his crimson red hair and sharp golden eyes. They had all discussed beforehand to dress down but Gilraine looked very out of place with his towering presence and the gleaming black and gold inlaid imperial sword by his side.
Freya laughed at his raised brow.
"We tried. Gilraine refused to cover his sword." Not that it mattered really, Gilraine could be wearing the plainest clothing but it would not hide the young duke's imposing and noble air, nor could that detract from the eye-catching crimson red of his hair.
"Hey, don't look so displeased." Complained Astana. "We weren't meant for stealth missions."
Freya laughed nervously at that and Eucemon's brows furrowed.
"Don't worry about it..." She eased. "It was a mess, but it was resolved."
They had stayed at the inn at the town center the previous night, Freya informed him. It was the best place to gather information on the ground. Somehow, Eucemon doubted they gathered much, because it appeared that Gilraine had an unfortunate encounter - quite literally bodied - with a black star ranked adventurer of the guild. It ended not well, the adventurer's temperament and Gilraine's were like oil and water, blaming each other immediately for not giving right of way, and when both resorted to actions instead of words there were fairly significant damages. At some point of the altercation, Astana had inserted himself in too, and more members of the adventurer's guild also became summarily involved.
Freya reached into her bag to pull out a piece of parchment and placed it into his hands: it was a ledger.
He folded it, tucking it into the pocket of his coat, not wanting to think about what exactly they had done to sustain such a bill.
"I'll cover it. His Majesty will not hear of this and it won't come from your salaries." He gave them a look as Freya and Astana cheered. "But ensure this will not happen again."
He glanced back, seeing Athusa still preoccupied.
"Let's go eat?" Suggested Freya. They were supposed to meet near an hour ago, she was famished.
"That would be fine," he murmured. "But she was attacked the previous night."
"Attacked?" Astana looked incredulous. "Which scum would attack the Duke's daughter the same day her father was buried?"
"If we bring you food later Astana," suggested Eucemon. "Can you watch over her now?"
"Sure." The boy smiled with a crooked edge. "I'll open their throats before they even touch your princess."
"She's-"
She was not his princess, he had meant to say. She hasn't even confirmed if she wanted to continue their betrothal let alone to contract with him as his Link. Now that she was going to succeed the duke, she would certainly have the right to request for an annulment. Territorial successors were not required to have to leave their areas of jurisdiction. She certainly could be shrewd enough to cite the law before his father.
But he thinks to this morning, the lingering sweeter touch of her fingertips to his cheek to remove a stubborn crumb of sweets, and felt a vague sense of loss.
"Oh?" Freya seemed immediately thrilled. Her tone became teasing. "So you do like her."
He shut his eyes a moment in irritation, before heading away.
"How great, our ice prince finally is growing up!"
"If you don't come along Freya," Muttered Eucemon. "I won't cover lunch."
"Alright, alright... coming." She chirped, following along with a newfound skip to her step. "But the inn's the other way, Euce." Freya slowly grinned wider, seeing the vague impression of a puppy caught in the most earnest feelings, as Eucemon backtracked.
Later, at the inn's dining hall, Eucemon informed Gilraine and Freya of what he had learned. Carlene had already begun bringing Athusa candidates from the adventurer's guild local branch in the earlier hours of the morning.
"Is she really going to rely on such ragtag hires?" Freya looked surprised. "They weren't even standing after Gilraine and Astana beat them so."
That didn't seem very safe to her.
"That's why Gilraine," Continued Eucemon, "Summon the rest of the knights for me."
The marquess was likely to try again another attempt on his niece and even if Eucemon was confident in his magic, he would rather not take chances.