Chapter 14, the queens court 2.

(Trisha)

The butler returned to the sitting room with a worried expression and stood behind the couch.

" My lady Stella Doros, and her son Daren Doros." said the Butler bowing as the two descended the stairs.

" It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Trisha. I have heard so much about the new bishop's apprentice." said Lady stella, her cheeks dimpling cutely as she smiled. The woman was in her early fifties, but her athletic physique took ten years of her age and her hair only had the barest hints of grey.

" Please, just call me Trisha. And don't mind the two behind me. They are my guards, Eliya and Greg." said Trisha, curtsying.

" This is my son Deren." said Lady Stella, gesturing to Deren. The man was short, in his mid-twenties, with just the hints of a gut. Trisha was honestly shocked that this was the same man from Drent. He had dropped perhaps fifty pounds. Unlike the timid apprentice from before, Daren stood with a calm assurance. Losing Kelvin must have made Daren into a real man.

"I believe we have already met." said Trisha, eying Derens combed brown hair and hazel eyes. Unlike the last time she saw him, Deren had a glimmer behind his eyes. He assessed her like a cat watching a mouse preparing to strike.

" Pleasure." mumbled Daren.

" What brings you to my humble estate?" asked Lady Stella, her interest peaked.

Trisha hung her head as she delivered the news.

" My lady stella, sadly I am not her for idle banter. I am here on official business. I am here to send my deepest condolences. Yesterday evening his lordship Talu Doros was found dead on the road between here and Quimby." said Trisha, bowing her head.

Her heart broke for the woman as she fell into a plush seat, her face a mask of shock.

" No, it can't be. Surely you are talking of someone else?" said Lady Stella, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm sorry, my lady. Do you know of any who might have wanted him dead?" asked Trisha, eying Deren from the corner of her eye.

The young man sat down as well, his face buried in his hands. He was shaking his head violently as though in denial..

" No, my lord Talu was an honorable man. I know of no one that had such ill will towards him." Said Lady stella a sob ripping from her throat.

" Lord Daren, do you know of any who might want your father dead?" asked Trisha. He lifted his head, peering at her through tear-filled eyes.

" I dont know. The only thing I can think of is it must have been lord Bertram. He has the most to gain. He was rather angry that father took the wool contract in Quimby." said Daren, his chest heaving with a deep sob. The butler stepped forwards.

" My lord and lady are rather upset. If it is not too much trouble, I will ask you to leave." said the butler, stepping in tactfully. Trisha nodded to the grieving family. She might need to come by again some other time when the shock wasn't so fresh.

They left the estate at the butler's insistence, leaving Trisha with only one name. Lord Bertram. That wasn't a lot to go on. But she had to admit, that was more than she had before.

Trisha returned to the Cathedral and relayed the small amount of information she gathered. She even informed the Bishop of Derens change in physique and temperament. For such an important task, she felt like she had learned so little.

Trisha fidgeted her hands behind her back, waiting for the bishop as the woman paced around her lacquered dark wooden table.

" Lord Bertram is no one of real significance. He is a landed baron that can't even maintain an estate here in the capitol. Instead, he owns a mansion in the countryside." said the Bishop.

" Then why would Deren suspect Lord Bertram of foul play?" asked Trisha.

" They had a long-standing rivalry, quibbling over the wool markets for over a decade. The feud has stayed minimal, only sticking to small banditry and price gouging until now. They both understood that the law and the church would overlook such things if they kept the harassing small." said the Bishop. Trisha raised one brow at the bishop's words.

" If you knew of this, why didn't you stop it?" asked Trisha.

" They are both lords. And the gold we make from the taxes they pay far outweighs some minor squabbles. As long as they stay in acceptable bounds we overlook their conduct." said The Bishop, smoothing her immaculate white robe.

The hypocrisy was not lost on Trisha. It was okay for the nobles to ignore the laws, but commoners doing those same things would receive extreme punishments.

Trishas plain leather sword belt creaked, and the bishop's expression soured. The weapon was a single-handed short sword with a fraying leather grip, scuffed pommel and dinged crossguard. She kept the blade oiled and sharpened, but it still looked like the standard army issue blade it was.

" I can't have you wearing that trash weapon around. " Said the bishop.

Trisha crossed her arms in defiance, straightening her back and returning the bishop's glare.

" Fighting without a sword is extremely disadvantageous. I will not handicap myself in such a way." Said Trisha firmly.

The bishop had the luxury of using daggers, but Trisha was drawing a line. The bishop's gaze intensified, and she strode from the room. Her quarters were at the back of the hall next to the false wall where the vault was hidden. Sweat Beaded on Trishas' forehead and she couldn't help but fidget nervously. What would be the punishment for her defiance? The door to the Bishop's room slid opened and the woman saunter towards Trisha.

Trishas eyes widened. The bishop held a two handed long sword in her hands. She approached Trisha and held out the weapon with one hand, holding the two handed long sword as easily as a toddler holds a stick. The ostentatious scabbard was lined with soft grey velvet and clasped within a cage of silver wire. The silver pommel and cross guard gleamed, reflecting the lantern light. Grasping the hilt, Trisha drew the proffered weapon. It weighed quite a bit more than her own short sword, but its balance was much better.

She stood back and admired the long blade, holding the long handle in a two handed grip. The metal shimmered in the lantern light like the moonlight reflecting on a lake at night. The edge of the blade positively radiated menace, as though a simple touch could remove her limbs. Mana positively radiated from the blade, as though fighting to be set free. The double edged straight sword tapered to a sharp, deadly point.

" This is my old sword. You may use it for now." said the Bishop, passing over the beautiful scabbard.

" I dont know what to say." said Trisha, sheathing the masterpiece. At seventeen, Trisha was already as tall as most adults, her height of five feet ten inches. She used her dark leather belt, slipping the leather through the edge of the scabbard. The sword was long, the scabbard nearly touching the hardwood floor.

" This weapon is one symbol of my house. If I had a child, I would have passed it onto them. Since I named you as my heir, it now belongs to you. Engraved on its blade is the name Auveriant. Cherish this weapon and it will guide you to victory." said the Bishop.

" I have been meaning to ask you about that. Why did you name me as your apprentice? I didn't agree to that." said Trisha, the sword unusually heavy compared to her discarded short sword.

The bishop took in a breath and looked at the blank wall leading to the safe. Her long black hair fell down her back and the hilts of her two daggers glinted in the lantern light against her white robes.

" I don't want to fill your head with pomp, but what you have done so far is rather impressive. Keeping Victor at bay for days on end was something neither I nor Noah believed you could achieve." said the Bishop.

" He was just a low-ranking demon." said Trisha, waving the bishop away dismissively. She said that now, but at the time, his power had terrified her. Her body began to sweat at the memories of long nights under Victors torcher..

The bishop smiled apologetically.

" What I failed to mention is a minor demon is near impossible to resist once you allow it in. The higher demons are worse, of course, but all demons are strong in a mental battle. For example, if I allowed a demon in then something as weak as a low-ranking demon could take me over in time." said the Bishop.

Trisha swallowed. Had the bishop really given her that time piece, thinking she was going to die?

" Why am I different? Why can I fight the demons off?" asked Trisha.

"That is because you have somehow found a way to hold back your mind magic and stop it from making you insane." said the Bishop. Trisha didn't understand why the bishop thought her actions were so unique. All Trisha had done was deny her mind mana from leaking out of her body. Sure, it was hard sometimes, but after all these years, it was second nature to Trisha.

" My mind is my castle. I don't let it control me. I control myself, not some power within me." said Trisha firmly.

" Can I see it?" asked the Bishop raising an eyebrow.

" What?" asked Trisha wearily.

" Your castle." Asked the Bishop.

Trisha pondered this. In her mind's eye, she would envision a fortress to hold in the energy from escaping. After all, what was sturdier than a powerful fortress? At first, she thought this was simply a way of thinking. That was, until her battle in the city of Hurst. She hadn't fought victor in body but in mind. She was still confused why Reskeme had been there? How he defeated that demon was still a mystery. Whatever Reskeme was had torn the invading demon apart. Maybe when she saw him again, she could ask how he did it.

Trisha held out a hand to the bishop. She would have denied the Bishop, but Trisha was curious to see what the bishop looked like in her mind space. She fortified her walls and shut her mental gates. Her inner fortress closed and Trisha felt a slight pressure against her mind as the bishops had touched Trisha's forehead.

Surprisingly, the bishop didn't force her way in but simply knocked. Trisha felt the foreign presence as a faint pressure in her head, and with a slight pull, she guided the presence in. A being complex and beautiful flowed into her mental space. The being paused and spun around in front of the closed gates of the massive fortress in Trishas mind. The being swirled, roiling like a miniature storm. Its surface crackled brightly, indistinct, like a dark purple thundercloud.

Suddenly, Trisha felt confusion, curiosity, and excitement flowing from the figure. Pride flowed through Trisha as the being vastly more powerful than Trisha glanced at the fortress representing her mind. The beings' emotions flowed through the space, filling Trisha with the bishops' genuine feelings. Trisha smiled. For once, the person seeming so cold and heartless was showing her true emotions towards Trisha.

Trisha staggered as with a force of will, as the bishop retreated from the mental space.

" Dont delve into my mind." said the Bishop glaring at Trisha. The woman, usually so calm, had a look of concern on her face.

" I didn't." said Trisha gasping for breath at the forceful exit.

" I must say, that was a rather impressive mental defence. Where did you get the idea for that?" Asked the Bishop.

Trisha shrugged. " I think I saw a military fortress once. It stuck with me as impenetrable. Whenever i feel the energy trying to leave, i just envision my inner fortress." said Trisha, resting her hand on the polished pommel of her long sword to steady herself.

" Fascinating, does it have an actual purpose?" asked the Bishop, raising one manicured eyebrow.

" I think it helps me keep out foreign influence. When I fought Victor, he could damage the walls and destroy the battlements but while the fortress held he couldn't take my mind." admitted Trisha sheepishly.

" What did your inner fortress look like after your first night with victor?" asked the Bishop her icy gaze boring into Trisha. Trisha flushed. That look made her feel like a disobedient child.

" The walls were cracking, and the gates were warping." said Trisha.

The bishop massaged her temples in an uncharacteristic display of concern.

"What is wrong?" asked Trisha, her heart skipping a beat.

" It's nothing, don't worry about it. Follow me, we are going to make sure you can use that long sword." said the Bishop striding towards the training room. Trisha swallowed as she trailed the woman. Her heart raced, and her palms sweated as they entered the training hall.

They sparred with heavy wooden long swords for the next three hours. Her hands throbbed and her arms shook as she struggled to keep the point raised. The bishop scowled at Trisha and pushed aside a strand of sweaty, silky black hair, cradling her own wooden long sword in a loose grip.. The bishop gave Trisha a challenging glare, her white robes unruffled.

"Again." said the Bishop calmly, her breath coming easily. Aside from the sweat beading on the woman's forehead, she appeared as though the last three hours were a pleasant stroll through the forest.

Trisha panted as she adjusted her sweat soaked hands on the hilt of her wooden long sword. The weapons clashed with an over the shoulder slash that rattled Trishas bones. With a flick of her wrists while leaning to the side, the bishop caught Trisha off guard. Trishas hands clammed up, the hours of sparring taking out most of her strength. She moved too slowly to dodge or block, and the bishop's sword smacked against her shoulder. The bishop kicked the side of Trishas leg as she staggered. With that, Trisha fell on her ass, her shoulder throbbing lightly in pain. The strike didn't hurt all that much, but Trisha was aware she would have been cut open with a real blade.

" Meet me here tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn. I will not allow this sort of incompetence with the long sword." said the Bishop. Trisha flushed as the bishop placed her wooden practice sword on the rack and strode from the room. Her cheeks burned at the scathing remark. Her arm trembled as she reached up to wipe sweat from her forehead. Drenched in sweat, Trisha lay on her back and stare at the low hanging vaulted ceiling. The cool floor was refreshing on her back through her silken shirt.

She sighed in relief at the small comfort. The throbbing of her arms, shoulders, legs and back like drums on her senses. Before coming to the church, Trisha had thought she was getting skilled with a sword. But after lessons with the bishop and lord Noah, she realised how naïve she truly was. Trisha sighed to think people that skilled were roaming the world. All it would take was fighting the wrong person and she would die. Not a drawn out battle. As she had realized long ago, a sword fight was decided in seconds, not minutes.

Her eyelids drooped. At least tomorrow she could fight with words instead of the sword or magic. She smiled, and with a force of effort, dragged herself to her room for sleep.