Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 This is Hystorical Fiction, the primary point of divergence (Many Worlds
Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics) is the Siege of Nancy, which was
successfully defended by the Burgundy, who are now consolidation power
across what is now known as France.  About a generation after Jean de
Orleans (Joan of Arc) this mostly concerns the adventures of a Norman
transgender boy, born a Lady to the house du Lasci.  On the assumption that
this was always a thing, and her Heroine was possessed by Serial Killer out
of time.  (For my longterm fans, once known by the alias Amanda Hunt, but
after several trips back in time with a Nano-alien, who's busy building a
Pirate Fleet on the Archepelagos.  Now called the Aegean sea.

   A note on Anglo/Norman Saxony.  In Bristol, London, York and Norwich
it's the early Renaissance.  However, they're out in the sticks.  A small
minor lord with a stone keep, practically a tower on a Motte with a Bailey.
In places it's basically the middle ages, and if you go deep enough into
the woods, you'll essentially find dark-age iron, and quarterstaffs.  This
is nowhere near Sherwood Forest, but that kind of heterogeneous disparity,
because you've got the Angles, Normans, and Saxons fighting for Control,
just like you have the Kelts, Picts, and Scotts fighting over the Highlands
to the North.  Which is why there's all these anachronisms, like highland
Clydestale sledges, targes, buttoned pants, and coiffed Norman buns in a
motte, and bailey fort.

   ;

   Quilla deLasci (GM Sedu?  Lang/IR NS)

   The Hunter was dark, for a DeutsheMann.  I have bean learning to read it
from the History of Bern, but have not Spake it much aloud.

   "Latine Loqui?"

   "Who are you, little one."

   "Comptessa Quilla du Lasci, auf Normandie?"

   "Normannish, what are you doing here?"

   "Staying deVinter mitt mine Cousin, the Yarla auf Lassiter."

   "Aquilla de Lasci?"

   "No, Quilla.  Oh, ComptessA deLasci."

   "von LakSee?"

   "Lasci."

   "You are, Bergundoir?"

   "Anglo-Normon."

   "Pardonne, mine Frankisch ist worse than mine Anglic."

   "My latineLoqui is better than my Deutshe.  You are, Milanoir?"

   "Romansh.  aufAirolo."

   "Oh, you are Hirsh Balgen?"

   "I have been called that, or Hirsch Hartmann.  You have heard of me?"

   "I have read your lady's letters."

   "She is not my lady, I am her huntsMann."

   "JagrMeister."

   "HuntsMaster, yes.  What have you read?"

   "All of them, since you came.  You make my cousin very happy."

   "You know this?"

   "You asked what I have heard."

   "How old are you?"

   "A dozen, old enough to ride, in fair weather, and to hunt."

   "In that?" He laughed.

   "Of course not, I saw you fighting Sean.  The Armaster?  What is that,
large saber?"

   "GrossMesser?"

   "You cut off his shield with.  That is, ah greatKnife?"

   "Yes, it is."

   "I wish I could fight thus, but the men fight for me.  Or like Milne. 
Does she truly fight that way?"

   "You read all of her letters?"

   "The ones you brought?  Yes, while you pleased my cousin." Imagining
what that must be like, fur Milne, she is not much older.  "Do you truly
have Philatori, where you are from?"

   "Where did you read that?"

   "I told you, her letters." They sound very exciting, "I am unmarried,
not even promised."

   "Is that." He stopped, looked around, "Why not?"

   "3rd daughter, not enough Dukes that aren't my cousins." {A side effect
of marrying around 12 is you can have cousins, and even nephews old enough
to be your father, or husband.}

   "What do you, propose of me?"

   "My escort, will come for me, in spring."

   "Yes?"

   "It is cold here, and quiet, you came over the snow."

   "It is not so cold here, I komme from the mountains, this winter is mild
to me."

   "Well, it is cold to me, I may need someone, to keep me warm on the
way."

   "To where?"

   "Calais?"

   "Well, I sailed from there, would you like an escort to Calais."

   "Or Bristol, we could stay there, ist much nicer than here.  I have
arranged it, but my uncle said I should ask you."

   "He tying to get rid of me?"

   "He tried to get his mann, Seam to kill you."

   "He did not try enough," he laughed.

   "Sie Philatori, they mentor boys?"

   "Traditionally." He scrubbed my hair, "But I am not a traditional
Philator.  I would have to ask your father, in Calais."

   "Mine mutter, she is Burgundich."

   "Well, I am not of the house of Alberich."

   I know.  "You are common born."

   "Yes, but working on.  A promotion."

   "They would try to kill you for asking."

   "That would put us at an impasse."

   "Not if you don't take me to Calais."

   "You don't like it there, either."

   "I don't like my family, they don't let me do anything."

   "You are afraid of them?"

   "Of them, finding out what I have done."

   "What is this?"

   "You know the smithSon."

   "I met him?"

   "Yes, I went fishing with him."

   "And."

   "And, it was cold out on the lake." All night.  "We could had no fire."

   "Ah."

   "Yes.  It hurt, but.  We kept eachother warm."

   "I understand."

   "So, you don't have to worry, about protecting my virtue.  But if they
ask, you do."

   "I understand."

   "Kommen, let's go talk to my uncle."

   "I should tell him, I am taking you to Calais?"

   "Ja."

   "Da."

   "Yes?"

   "It is said: 'Da'."

   "Oh, Da."

   "After you, mine Lady"

   "Where could you take me?"

   "Where would you like to go?"

   "Bern, Interlaken, deNeuchatelSee?"

   "Neufzatel."

   "Neuf?"

   "ZatelSee."

   "NeufzatelSee."

   "Gut."

   "Danken."

   "I do not have to go back."

   "To Bern?"

   "To anywhere, your cousin has a courior, ready to go."

   "Oh."

   "I was thinking, die interSe'en."

   "Wherem der?"

   "Varum.  Varum dir."

   "Varum dir?"

   "De Eiberin, your Latan Loqui?  My Romansch, they hast Portusch,
Gibraller, Moorishe ist keine."

   "I understand, good.  Yes, die Intersee."

   "Then Roma, Siscilia, Candia."

   "Kretes!?"

   "Yes, maybe Pori."

   "Oh, Ja.  Da!"

   "Warum is ein Uncle?"

   "The Jarl?"

   "In his study."

   "Thanks, back to your work."

   "Yes, Contessa..."

   ;

   {Latin Loqui: Okay, since the Romans, everyone speaks it in and around
the Empire after it collapsed.  However, while there is some divergence
between the so-called "Romance" languages, there's more in common between
say Swiss Romansh, and Portugese than modern Peruvian Espangol, and
Brazilica Portugues.  Because they haven't been spoken separately as long,
over the 500 years between then, and now.  So, it's all fairly close to old
Roman Latin from the Crusades, and Migration era of cultural mixing.  From
wars of succession over the Old Roman Empire.}

   ;

   Quilla (tM Scribe/Squire)

   "Mh?" I curled up in the fur, and sighed.  "Hhn!" The light of morning,
shone through the canvas like a tent.  Only moving, with the gait of the
Clydestale, the dull heavy hoof falls muffled by the snow.  I peeked out
through the flap, out front to see the tail swinging, and cupped handfulls
up to wash out my mouth.  "Hold," I called up to Hirsch.

   On the saddle, riding instead of leading the sledge, he stopped and
dismounted, while I pulled some pants on under my nightshift.  Out across a
field, I saw our tracks, climbing over the luggage, lashed to the back with
leather strips.  "Shall we break fast?" He put his hand on my shoulder.  I
turned to see his Knife.  At his side, like the warKnife he left at the
castle in Seam's charge.  He looked down, at the side of his belt.

   I pulled at the tangle of my curls, the knots, and looked up.  Asked,
"Have you anything to cut this?" He felt it, pulling at a bad snarl, where
the plait twisted, and knotted at the side.  I had abandoned my coif, and
with it the pretense of my family.  My family's family.  Switching to
Latin, "Philator."

   "I'm not." He straightened up, with his smallest sharpest knife. 
Turning to sit on the baggage, "Turn around.  I am not Cretanes, nor
noble."

   "I am not a girl."

   "Skuzzi?"

   "My mother, sisters, aunts, and cousins.  None of my family would
believe me.  She showed me, on my body that I am a girl, but I have never,
felt like one.  I am a boy, inside, but no one would believe me." It just
feels better, to say this.

   "I do." he held my head, to his shoulder.  "My, there is no word, for
this relation.  My first man, his father married a woman, who was born a
boy.  Inside, as you say."

   "Azisa Toupori, I read the book you brought, and Smithson believed me as
well." The first who ever had, and I was so relieved, I gave my body to
him, willingly.  "It is, the most attractive thing, for a man to me.  I
want to be your squire."

   "I am no knight, either."

   "Not by birth, but by skill.  You bested my uncle's best, you fight as a
knight, and it would be easier for our travels, if you claimed it."

   "I have no lands." He sawed off another braid, and I sighed.

   "Then, we will make up a title for you, sir Hartmann.  You were Vassal
to the Baron of Bern?"

   "Oberland.  The Bernese took over, after the Abbey closed, but I was
never transferred, to them.  I was, a peer of lady Alberich, so in a way a
knight."

   "JagrMeister."

   "Yes, I trained with her, her Armeister Bavard, then his replacement
Leonard di Candy when he was killed."

   "How?"

   "His lord, executed him for letting her take lovers.  Then, there was a
feast.  For her birthday."

   "You ate him."

   "I was not invited."

   "No, but the lord, Alberich.  He eats men."

   "So I hear, yes.  Officially he was charged with poaching.  As the
Marshal?  The caretaker, of the land, I was to charge him, and there for
the execution."

   "Are you cold?" He shivered.

   "No."

   "You are chilled, by the memory."

   "Yes."

   "Then talk about something else." That works for me, when I am
frightened.  By a story, or a nitemare, I was always protected from all
that might harm me.

   "The bear, he killed.  It was under order, by Lady Milne.  She took us
up to the hills, and valleys, I as guide knowing the lands best."

   "LandsKnecht."

   "Yes, I was vassal to the Land.  She did not want to see the land.  She
wanted to.  Well, she says 'Gefechten und geficken'."

   "Fighting, and fucking."

   "Is that how you say it?"

   "Yes, in Anglic, ficken is Fucking."

   "Fucking." He nodded.

   "How does it look?"

   "Your hair?" I turned around.

   "Do I look like a boy?"

   "Less, like a girl.  Your dress." He held it out.  I pulled it off.  "It
is cold."

   "Then get in the sledge," I pushed him back, "And warm me up." I took
his hands, and moved them down, from my chest.

   "You do not like?"

   "I hate them." Ever since they started growing.  "I want to cut them
off."

   "Here," he tore the nightgown, "Let me show you, how to bind them down."
Flat, yes this did feel better.

   "Oh Hirsh!" I hugged him, his broad shoulders, and kissed his mouth.

   "She does, like this.  Under her armor." He told me about fighting, and
fucking.  "It is, the same for her."

   "She is harsh.  In bed?"

   "She sleeps alone, but.  Yes.  Brutal."

   "It hurts?"

   "Yes, it hurts good."

   "Then fuck me 'till it hurts."

   "I will, my boy."

   I bent over, so he could pull my pants down, as soon as I got the
buttons open.

   ;

   {Fighting/Fucking: All right, there's no concept of Rape, because
consent is not an issue between Nobles, and vassals.  Why he can outright
threaten deputy guards at the gate, impersonating a Ritter, or Rider. 
(Lowest rank of a Knight, not rarely lowborn as well, though he assumed the
title rather than have it bestowed.) As it was with Milne, legally it isn't
Rape, because she Owned him.  The threat of death, cooked to death by her
father is just implied.  So, consent forced by threat of violence, torture
and death are morally Rape, but legally.  Well, sex slavery, I suppose.  If
you're wondering about his change in attitude, it comes with assuming the
Rank.  They wouldn't believe it if he didn't act the part, basically a
Power Assertive Malignant Narcissist.  Where the term "Entitled" comes
from, because it was normal back then for Knights and other nobles, just
like 12 year old brides were.  To this day, it's why neckbearded beta
trilby wearing throwbacks say "Milady," because they grew up reading fairy
tales, and imagine themselves Prince fucking Charming.
Also, landsKnecht literally means Slave to the Land, or Vassal.  The
fame of the Swiss mercenaries hasn't even spread yet, he's actually a bit

ahead of the curve, but not on his own.

   ;}

   Ritter vos Airolo (Mt NS.)

   After some venison, and sausage, I took a nap in the sun warmed sledge,
while sHe led it on through the snow for Bristol.  The harbor is frozen,
there will not be a ship to sail until the thaw, which should come earlier
here.  At seeLevel, which should give time to earn passage on a ship for
Portu?

   "My lord," he shook me, through the flap.

   Liking the sound of that, "Huh?"

   "Deputies." He stood up in my cloak, over hers.  There was no where to
get boy's clothing, but buttoned and broached against the cold, her blouse
didn't show even a stitch at the collar.

   "My lord," he bowed, waving gracefully to me, "Ritter von Airolo of
Bern." Backed behind me, pushing furrows with his heels.  Wrapped in furs I
had left lying around, I pulled on my Morion cap, and with it the air of
Nobility.

   "What is it?"

   "You are entering the lands of Brykgstow, and owe Tax to enter."

   "Huh!" I nodded, snapped, "Fetch me my purse."

   "Yes, my lord." He fished it out of the saddle.

   "What manner of sword is this?" Flat bowl of a helmet, like a buckler
tipped back, his crude Halberd leaned on his shoulder.  "Is it a sword, or
Seax?"

   "Messer.  Uh," Scratch my head, and bend down for a hand full of snow.
"Aquillo, tell them."

   "Knifesword." I nodded.

   "Can I see it?"

   "Yes, you saw it.  There on my saddle.  It's German." Really sick of the
conversation.  The curiosity, hopefully the warKnife I left with the Guard
of Lacy would get around, and people would get used to seeing a Nail.

   "German Hanger." His scribe wrote down, with cold ink.

   "What is the tax?"

   "What is your business?"

   "None of yours?"

   "Uh," my squire spoke up, "Lodging, and passage to Glascony."

   "There are no ships to Glascony until spring."

   "Right, hence the Lodging, until spring."

   The scribe thought.  "Five pence."

   ?

   "Pfennig."

   "Pay it then." I yawned, and pulled out my breeches.

   "And this?" The soldner.

   "Did I tell you to touch my things?" I drew my 'hanger' from my saddle.
"I can take your hand, clean off for less.  Lowborn."

   "I must log any weapons, before you enter, my lord." I'm starting to
like being called that.  I nodded.  "Is it a sword, or warhammer."

   "Stocco."

   "Tuck."

   "Yes, tuck/hammer." I slipped my knife through the loop for it in my
belt, and drew it from my saddle.  "So, I don't need a longsword, and a
hammer, should I encounter impudent Deputies in armor on the road.  Where
is your sheriff?" I held it up, Morder grip, as a hammer.  "Are you
deputies, or bandits?" The prongs of the Luscerne face ready to punch links
out of his maille shirt.  As Bavard killed the bear he was killed for
killing, punching through it's skull with the quillion of his doublehander,
so I know it works.

   "No sire!" He shrank back.

   "Then open the damned gate, it's too early for this shit." I slipped it
back in it's loop, while my squire translated.  "The fuck was that all
about?"

   "The lodging.  The Sheriff of Bridgetown is rich from Tax.  Lowborn, so
he lives like a lord since knighted.  Taxes the Hostels as well, so they
wouldn't extort so much from us at the gate."

   "Ah." Smart.  "Well, hopefully we can find another arrangement, you know
this town?"

   "We stayed with him, when we arrived in fall.  It would be best I avoid
him, lest he recognize me."

   "You have a twin sister."

   "No sire."

   "Well, you do now."

   "Ah, yes sire."

   "We'll have to ditch the sledge." The Roman cobbles are clear, icy, but
not working very will on the brass shod runners.

   "There is a stable."

   "You think we can sell the horse?"

   "Yes, sire."

   "Let's do that, then." In the city, it is more expensive even without a
Sheriff to extort Tax from us.  "Then, show me to this Sheriff." Maybe we
can work something out...

   He bartered for me, her money any way, but a good draft horse, almost
too large to ride.  I unpacked the damned court doublet, hose, and
codpiece. If I'm going to act the noble, I have to dress it, especially if
I'm going to go bully the sheriff out of these taxes.

   "Huh!" Warmer, though.  Velvet, like woven swede, with brocade between
the slashes, bloused around my shoulders and thighs.  I skipped the collar,
draw the line at unfolding it like a fan of motley partitions, and tucked
the straps back in my helmet.

   My squire returned, handed me the purse no fuller, but heavier.  "Gold?"

   "A little, you ran hounds in the Highlands?"

   "Oberland, yes." I nodded.

   "I got a draft dog, for the horse.  He had not the gold to pay in full,
but she will carry our packs." He led us out.

   "SennerHund?" I did not know they had these, here.  Nor trimmed off
their witer coats for some reason, these looked shorn like sheep.

   "Mastiff." And a small cart.

   "Like a baby carriage."

   "A pram." Better than the sledge over the cobbles, and muddy ruts away
from the center street to the Castle, Court, and Sheriff's fort.

   "Lead on," I patted his shoulder, "My boy."

   "Yes sire."

   "To the market," I reconsidered, "We have to get you some, more
appropriate clothes."

   "Oh," excited, "Yessire!" Toward the harbor, and the docks, at least
they had rooves and eaves with the doors open to show the wares.

   The schneider, from Candy.  I can sew, leather, but he made dresses.  To
wear, and also for Lady Milne, but, it would be nice to have him.  As a
dress must be sized for his body, I would think boy's clothes would have to
be for his girlish figure.  The start of hips I felt, in the tent on the
sledge.

   Bent over, to take it in the bind, it hurt but like a philator, and boy,
and he hopes never to carry a child.  With his small breasts bound down,
that might be another problem, but not as much without growing them with a
child.  "Huh!" It would be nice if Leonard was here.

   "Leather." He felt some sort of tanned hide.  I picked it up, fine, fine
enough for gloves.

   "How much?" I could make him some with laces, just not as nice as the
Sneider.

   ;

   Aquillo Page de Lassiter (t...)

   I announced him "Hart, the Ritter from Airolo," and bowed to let him
pass.  "His Anglic is crude, I speak for my lord."

   "He is Milanaise?"

   I shook my head, "Swiss."

   He bent to the edge of my new haircut, and I repeated in English.  "Oh,
His town of Airolo, was Milanaisse, now he is of Bern.  The Alpinetti?"

   "Da."

   "Yes, the Swiss Confederacy, have taken the mountains to the
Interlachen."

   "InterlakenSee."

   "Between the lakes, in the Highlands.  He was Vassal to the Land, now
Canton of Bern."

   "Ritter, is lesser to count?"

   "Yes, lord."

   "Good." Comptette, actually.  He's a fucking Sheriff, glorified master
of the guard, no better than Seam other than in his own mind.  Okay, well I
lied about Hirsch being knighted, but I lied all my life, telling everyone
I was a little girl.  Her old life, out with the bathwater.

   "What brings you here?" He rubbed his hands together.  Anticipating
taxes.

   "What shall I tell him?" In German, nobody here speaks it.  "Trade?  My
cousin, the Duke has no ties with the Swiss Confederation, yet?  Well, we
just came from the castle Lassiter, but anything going there can come
overland, as we did, or through here." With harbor taxes, shipping fees,
billet tariffs, I could see the gold twinkle in his eyes, imagining the
shower of coins as I listed off taxable things.

   "So, you will have to speak with him?" Which ment crossing the bridge,
and the petty guardhouse the Sheriff pretended was his personal castle.  I
yawned.

   "Of course."

   "You're related to the Lasci, then."

   "I believe my sister, Quilla stayed with you, when she came in the
fall?"

   "Ah yes, I remember." Me too.  If anything, he's become even more the
powdered perfumed dandy than before.

   "She told me all about you." I forced myself to smile.

   "I never touched her, nor did any of my court."

   I snorted, "Of course not." Now that I'm a boy, he seemed to show more
interest.

   "Well," he annealed, "Tell your sire to teach you some respect. 
Youngling."

   "Yes," I bowed, "Of course.  Are we free to go?"

   "Take them to the bridge," he waved boredly, and the buckler heads came
to escort us.

   "What was that?"

   "Slap me, and shout."

   "Dummer Jungen!"

   "Sorry, sir." It hurt, but if I'm going to be a man, I have to learn to
take a hit.

   "So," out in the hall, "What was that all about?"

   "I'll tell you later, but we didn't have to pay any more, right?"

   "Da." he nodded.

   "I outed him as a pedorast.  Thought he might be, but now I know his
secret.  Also, he deferred us to the Duke.  My cousin, so won't embezzle
from us.  It's not his place, and he won't risk it."

   "Clever boy." He patted my back

   "Thank you, lord."

   I outranked him, but I hated being a lady in waiting.  A small price to
pay for my freedom, and to be me.  Who I am, who I always was, and the
chance to become a man.  I did not earn it, the pillow my family carried me
around on.  This is my chance to earn it, as soon as I learn to fight.

   I am a page, and squire now.  I have never been happier in my whole
life.

   ;

   Bailey

   "Quill, pull out the Rolls."

   "Yessir." They made us wait, again, but she was born to this.  Court,
life, and it is fortunate that nobody speaks Germannish.  Latin, but that
means he can do all the talking.  Out here, in the Bailey, that is what
they call the courtyard where the men practice.  Fighting, the snow cleared
to slates, and marked off with white scratches for the Maestro to put them
through their paces.

   "While we wait." I handed him my new shieldSword.  "Ask after the
carpenter, the.  TargeWright?" I nodded, that's what Seam said, to ask
after when I was here.  To think, he sends away for shields.

   "What is this?" Holding it up, side down.

   "Turn it over, it is like a buckler, but rather than hanging from the
belt, here is the sheathe."

   "Like this?"

   "Yes, the blade protects your forearm, but you can also learn to cut
with it.  Now, show the other squires, and send the Shieldwright to me."

   "YesSir, thank you sir!" Delighted, he practically skipped off, but
clumbsy with the hybrid weapon.  Hybrid shield, and sword, like the Main
Gauche I saw around the borders of the Burgundi lands, but cut out to the
curved quillions of the 5 finger blade, and anchored across the boss to the
pommel.  Without a shieldwright, I had to hack it out of a targe, but there
happened to be a damaged one handy.

   "Benifasci?"

   "Benifachi!" I grinned, turning.  "You are the carpenter, you make
shields?"

   "Carpenter, boss smith, leather tooler, yes."

   "Venizzi?"

   He shook his head, "Sisceeli."

   "Good to meet you." I gripped, and pulled his hand, "Where is your
workbench?"

   "Over here." I led my small cart.

   Against the wall, just a roof sticking over on poles, but dry, and even
a small forge.

   A stack of bosses.  "Are these for shields, or helmets?"

   "They make them, en masse.  Stamp them out at the river, I can use for
bosses, bucklers, or pad and strap for helmets." Explains the guards'
fashion, "Was that a cinquedea?"

   "My squires'?  Yes."

   "Nice!  I saw one, on Siscilia."

   "You are from?"

   "Oh no, Marseille.  I fled there, then here."

   "Why?"

   "Catholica."

   "Oh."

   "They attach the Cinquedea to bucklers, in Venice now?"

   I shrugged, "I do not know, I have never been there."

   "Where did you get that?"

   "A friend, from Crete.  Then, I made it, stuck it to a boss I won in a
duel."

   "Oh, clever."

   "Thank you."

   "What are you doing?"

   "Well," Beating my Knife on the back edge through a post.  "Splitting a
handle, for this." I brought the head of my Hammer.  My true hammer, "Like
a polish ax."

   "With the," He stuck out his fingers, like the prongs.

   "Luscern head." I nodded, "Instead of the back beak."

   "Axe, and hammer." He nodded.  Flipped it over, "With 5 finger spear."

   "Yes, for my squire to learn Halberd.  Have you ever seen one of these?"
My draft dog, curled up in the harness, I pulled out my hammerSword.

   "It looks like a stocco, and hammer."

   "It is, but with the pommel, I can show him, the Halberd without
stabbing him."

   "The point is on this side."

   "Yes, is also a Tuck."

   "Why?"

   "So, I don't have to carry a sword, a hammer, an ax, a hook..."

   "Yes, I see."

   "When I came here, I had no squire, nor horse.  Now I have a squire to
arm.  I will need a shield as well.  You do the tooling." I noticed, the
tools to work leather, the knot designs that are the fashion here, as well
as the raw leather.

   "Yes, of course."

   "How do you fix it to the targe?"

   "I will show you."

   "With the forge?"

   He laughed, "Of course not, you will need rivets, for the langets on
your pollax?"

   Finished cutting the handle, I nodded, held it up for length, but I can
always cut it off.  "Good, thank you."

   "No problem."

   "Here is the deal.  We make 2, I keep one, you keep one, so you know how
to make?"

   "Agreed." We pulled hands to make it official.  He picked up a rivet
with his tongs, and the peening ball on the back of the hammer, while I
held the langets over the haft.  We didn't talk while we worked.

   ;

   Lacy (tb NS)

   "What is it?" The FAQ, all around, so I showed it off.

   "Shield sword," I held it up, "Hand me one of them?" From the rack,
plain old cut and thrust wooden swords, "I'll show you.  You boys know how
to fight?  With the sword, and buckler."

   "Of course," some also had the Scottish dirk, which is like a knife, but
little to no guard.  I braced my forearm in the ferule, and circled around.

   "Sir," Hartmann was busy talking shop, we had barely begun to spar, but
these reflexes aren't going to train themselves.  I grinned and winked.

   ;)

   "En guarde!" Easily batted his blade away with my flat, lunge-stepped
diagonal, but looked back twisting to hook my edge behind the edge of his
shield.  Easily slipping the tip between his elbow, and the arm strap, I
side stepped, crossguards locked, and hooked my heel behind his, throwing
my shoulder in behind the boss.

   "wuH!?" Shield slammed him, with his own shield, back-stepping as he
turned, away, guarded from his blade on the outside, I disengaged hilts,
and ran my flat up, around the rawhide banded rim, to chop across his
throat, and punched him in the back with the boss so he tumbled over,
gasping for breath.

   I kicked his sword away before it even finished clattering on the
slatestone, and circled around, "Who's next?"

   "Khuh!" He choked, and coughed, bent over on his knees, and I kept
side-stepping, as they came around.  To surround me, but cutting off their
line of approach so they could only engage one at a time, I lunged, and
summersaulted over his back through an opening.  Bashing one to the
unprotected knee with the edge of my buckler, and sweeping the sword strike
away on the other side before rounding it off, turning, and backing out
while one hopped, circling around with 2 wounded to cut off their angles
now.

   This many boys to fight off, I'd have this body dialed in soon enough...

   ;

   Ritter

   "What the fuck?" I ran out, to the commotion.  Across the yard, it took
a while to get to the opposite corner, where the boys and teens were
starting to gang up.  The ones that weren't running, and crying.

   And the man, 1.  I could tell by his bearing as much as his armor he
must be a knight.  Just a breastplate, maille, and the flat caps that look
like bucklers, he fought like one too, with a basket hilted hanger, and
Targe.

   "Ahahaha!  Is that the best you got?"

   Over the boys, chanting, and pumping their fists, chanting "Fight fight
fight!"

   Lasci, my squire was dueling a knight?  Just with the buckler sword, but
swithching hands, and circling around his shield side.  Murderous rage,
"Come on, girl.  What are you afraid of?" Taunting him.

   "GrhH!"

   He over extended, and sHe blocked high.  To parry, twisting to catch the
back edge in the cutout, against the blade, forcing it down as if to break
his wrist with the guard of his own sword, and dodging the iron bound edge
of his targe, punching at hem.

   "Argh!"

   Shink!  His blade bounced away, off his own shield edge, then sHe
stabbed down.  Gripping the top edge, wickedly twisting the bands I
hammered around the quillions to fasten to the concave edge on his wrist,
and blood gushed out over the blade.  Dripping from a twist back,
spattering across the slate.

   "Ngh!" he fell, cradling his stump behind the shield arm, hunched over
and sobbing even as his sword rolled, and the severed hand fell out.

   "Anyone else?" He wiped the blade off on the fresh swede of the breeches
I made him, to fit his girlish hips, and skinny legs.

   "Come on!" I dragged him off by the top edge of the boss, to point the
blade away from me, but he held on.  Followed with the blade braced against
his arm.  "I did not teach you that!  How the hell do you learn so fast?"

   "Hihihihnyeah!" He giggled, frighteningly.  "I taught him, the same as I
taught you.  So fast, did you think you learned all that yourself?"

   "What are you?"

   "It's a long story.  The short of it is I am the Family Curse."

   "My family is cursed?"

   "Ahaha!  Of course not, any more than deLasci!  You got me from the
Alberich.  I'm just killing some time until we can go back to Greece."

   "Oh." I had heard stories, I could not believe.  "You are," looking
around, they gave us all the space they could, 'basiatis?' The Demon,
Vampire of Melanui.

   "No, I'm his daughter."

   "Oh."

   ;)

   When we were out, on our way to the Duke.  "He is your cousin?"

   "I said?"

   "You said 'my cousin,' not that he was the duke!"

   "Yes, Dennis Lankaster, Duke Palantine of Bristol, did I not mention?"

   "Yes, you did not."

   "Well, he does speak German, and every other language we know, so let me
do the talking."

   Walking across the bridge, the Knight still wimpering and clutching at
the fresh tarred stump at the end of his arm.

   "He'll live." She, the demon daughter grinned, and blinked his eye when
I looked back.

   "I do not like this."

   "Was?"

   "This, city.  It is, too many people."

   "You don't like people."

   "I do not know any of them, so it is hard to know the wolves from the
sheep, and I am lost here.  In Insteltwald, and Aarmeule', I knew everyone.
Even in Thun."

   "Well, there's no wolves here."

   "No, there are men as bad as wolves, but they lie, and say they are like
sheep."

   "Oh, yes of course." He nodded.

   "You know the Red Rider?"

   "No."

   "La finna Nonna.  The story of the grandmother, and the wolf."

   "Little red riding hood?" She laughed, "Ha!  Girl's story."

   "Yes, but in that, there was one wolf.  In the wood, if you see one, you
look around for the others.  Here, there is someone around every corner, I
have never been around."

   "The people, or the corner?"

   "Exactly, so I come around a corner I have never seen, and there are
people I do not know, to trust."

   "You're paranoid.  In cities, okay well let me talk to my cousin, but be
ready for some action."

   "Why?"

   "He knows my family, I do not have a twin brother, my older brothers and
my whole family.  He knows me, or who I was.  So, I cannot lie."

   "You have reason, to fear your family." I swallowed, nodded.

   "Not like that.  Like Milne's, but bad enough.  They do not know me, or
believe I am a boy.  He would send me back home.  I'd rather be killed, or
go to prison.  He can do that, Duke Palentine is much like a king, when the
King is not here."

   "In London?"

   "There are 2 Kings, last I heard, the Lannister king was in Birmingham
fur sieVinter."

   "Quilla, what have you done with your hair?"

   He is old, well a Duke.  Here he is like king.  "These es jor Cousin?"

   "Denny, this is Hirsh, the Ritter von Airolo."

   "My lord," I bowed, and offered my hand, cupping my helmet under my
other arm.

   "Ritter, you are Dutch?"

   "Swiss/Milanese.  Alpinetti."

   "Ah yes.  Come in, I have a fire." He could roast me in, with room to
spare, I did not stand too close.  It was warm enough, out of the wind
blowing down the Avon.

   "I have been to Genoa, not Milan, you prefer Latin?"

   "Romansh, do you know this?"

   "Bastard latin, my Dutch is better.  I have been to Zerchen."

   "Yes of course.  I rode through, but stopped only to change horses."

   "He's gonna escort me to Calais."

   "Not until the river thaws, I hope, why is it so short?" He felt his
hair.

   "I had an accident, we saved what we could."

   "I hear she wounded one of my men.  Was he making advances?"

   "Deny!  I challenged, him, and cut off his hand."

   "Did he touch her?"

   "He didn't get the chance." He spoke to me, as if he wasn't there?  "How
do you have, such a young cousin?"

   "I was the firstborn, she was the seventh.  My mother was also the
third, her father the sixth."

   "Oh," shrug, "Good to know." Big families.  He mentioned that before.

   "Did you hear me?  I cut off his hand!" She squeeled.

   "She did, I saw it."

   "How?"

   "I sheared it off against the edge of his shield, like he taught me."

   "You taught her to fight?"

   "I can not wtach her always, it was for her safety."

   "Of course." He finally turned back to him, "This does not mean you
should go sporting for fights, young lady." Okay, now I see why she hates
them.  I can imagine, being mistaken for a girl all my life, but this.  He
ignores her, doesn't even look at him, if he doesn't have to.  "Did you
talk to my Sheriff, on the way in?"

   "Denny!"

   "He could still make you a good wife!"

   "I'm not his type."

   "You're noble, you hand could gain him."

   "He likes boys." His hand snatch back, a if he'd burned him.  "What?"

   "He saw my hair, what was left after I burnt it, and he tried to seduce
me.  Right there, in front of his men.  Ask the guards who came with me,
they saw it."

   Oh, they do not.  It is like Itali, they do not tolerate Philatori, or
Androphilae.

   "I disguised myself, after the fire as a boy.  So that I would not be
accosted.  I had no way to know he was like that." At the door, he went and
talked to the guards, in Anglic.  Too low to hear, but sHe chucled next to
me.  They nodded, and left.

   "Yes, very clever.  Now I shall have to get another Sheriff." To me,
"Would you like to stay?  If you trained her, as well as she said, perhaps
my guards could learn from you?"

   "Oh, no." I put my hands up, "Danke, sehen but I hate the city, and want
nothing more than to get out, as soon as the river thaws."

   "He hates too many people."

   "Too bad."

   "I would not mind training with them, however."

   "All right."

   "Can we have the guardhouse, until he is replaced?"

   "Of course, my dear." He wiped the kiss off his hair immediately.  "But,
I have to talk to my steward.  If you'll excuse me."

   "Of course."

   ;

   Page Aquillo du Lasci, squire of the Ritter von Airollo

   I could not write on the ship from Bristol.  Trying to hold my eyes and
quill steady on the page as it rocked, and my viscera sloshed with the
motion of the deck.

   "HRULGH!"

   My Ritter held me by the hood, to lean over the rail and spare the deck.
As a lady, I could have someone clean it for me, but as the squire for a
Mercenary.  I can't even consider having to fill the bucket with a rag,
smoked fish, dried carrots, and cabbage from the larder.

   "HRULGH!  KHUGH!  SPT!"

   I think that's the last of it.  Now a growing boy, I must eat to grow,
but this.trip to Bayonne, with the fear I may be impregnated by the
Smith'son.

   {You aren't.}

   That is my saint, Gene.  I dreamed of Jean de Orleans, from the stories
of my family, but now remember her.  Her armor, the weight of it on her
shoulders, astride her warhorse overseeing the cavalry of Orleans. 
Carrying the Banner, not quite a knight, but mascot as they rode out to mop
up their forces.

   My heroine, my Inspiration to become a true knight.  A man, not the
figurehead carved under the prow of the ship.

   Just a few heaves, a moment.  {Yes, that's it.  Let's change the subject
to your escape.} Oh yes, from my cousin, Denys Lannister.  Heart set on
making me a lady, and marrying me to his sheriff to cement his claim to
knighthood.

   "Here," a slice of Lime from Africa.  Salted, I bite it to overpower the
vinegar, and bile of my breakfast, and spit rather than swallow it on my
empty stomache.

   "Merci'."

   He wears his new Coat, or Tabbard.  Embroidered en Brocade with the Stag
und Hart rampant.  The WarKnife between them, splitting them dexter, and
sinister my shield embossed in leather painted with the half-rose, red and
white Hart sinister, to represent my sire.  The Ritter Hartmann auf Airolo,
landsKnecht vassal of Bern.

   My savior, he brought me my Saint, lied to take me from the Lassiter
Castle overlooking the shores of Severn to Bristol.  The second to see me
for who I am, a boy, and took me as his Squire.  Lowborn Philator in the
Cretian tradition of his once Master, the Schneider von Candy da Ligetti.

   In Bristol, I was on House Arrest.  My cousin, excercising his near
Monarchal Power as Duke Palatine locked me in a tower until I reconsidered.
Accepted my fate as a lady, married to that Pedorast, the Sheriff of
Bristol County.  A fucking TOWER!?  In the winter, the bitterest winter
remembered.

   {Well, it is the Little Ice-Age.}

   What?

   {The sun, it has storms which wipe away the blanket of ions around the
Earth.}

   It is a ball?

   {Yes, Colon was right, or he will be, in a few decades.  Anyway, it is
like a lodestone, only it not just pulls at iron, these bands around it
also generate a girdle of ions which partially reflect light from the sun,
and trap heat from the surface.}

   How does this cause a harsh winter?

   {Indirectly, the solar storms erode the blanket faster, but recently it
has been relatively calm.  So, the blanket was able to build up, for a
while trapping more heat, but now it reflects more, so there is less to
trap from the summer, when the sun is on this side of the equator.}

   Oh.

   {Better write the escape from Bristol now, before you eat, and while the
morning doldrums leave the sea relatively stable.}

   Good idea.

   ;

   Quilla de Lasci

   Of course, I'm served by girls.  I have to eat, but the guard stands
watch, to make sure I don't secure any means of escape.  I considered the
window, you know the story of Rubada?  {Rapunzel in German.  Yes.} Here, we
have glass, so I can see out over the icy roofs, and cleared slates of the
practice yard, but it doesn't open.  {Your aunt's friend, and lover, Milne
had a similar window.  It also traps heat like the girdle of the Earth.}

   It would be fairly easy to smash through the motley (Pattern of
diamonds) lattice holding the panes, but I don't have enough bedding,
clothes, drapes, and pulls to make enough rope.  Which would mean a fall, I
estimate halfway to the roof, and then the slates too far below.  I
wouldn't even consider trying to climb the wall itself, exposed, and no
doubt icy from the sleet that spatters against it.

   Nor could I write about it, my plans for fear that they would be found
in a search, when letters of courting are brought to me from my suitor. 
Right, forged by my father, then signed, as if I know not his hand, and his
every argument.  I am given enough paper, and ink to write replies, but as
they consist of "Non." there's quite a bit of surplus.  I have a fireplace,
so at least it is good for the chill at night, when the light fades from
the western window.  My favorite, not just from the warmth, but the view
down the Avon to see.  Sea, sorry, as the Suitzermann would say it.

   I know no language my cousin does not, and any papers confiscated would
be taken to him directly.

   Likewise, the chimney is always hot, it's winter, and at best would get
me to the kitchen, not out of the castle.  I considered it, even climbed up
over the flue to find the vertical passage narrow, and sticky enough with
soot, but also choking with smoke, and heat that would only get worse.  I
do have black stained clothes now, even breeches sewn in my own hand which
would never wash out.

   Not much else to do, I was given thread, needles, they won't allow me a
spinning wheel, once I was caught trying to plait rope.  So, they also
limited the material, rationed to less than half the height of the tower.
It is not a prison, officially, but with these rules, they barely cover the
lie.  I have 1 thing to buy my freedom, not my purity, I can not say who I
had given it to, for his life, but my suitor wants me for my position.  To
be an Earl, not for children, nor even my body.

   {Not his type, but you haven't noticed the guard?} He does not even look
at me!  {Well, no.  He'd probably be left stocked in the slate yard to
freeze to death, rather than roasted alive from the inside out, but the
punishment is the same.  He fancies you, though.} How?  {Stockholm
syndrome? Or reverse Stockholm, he is your captor, but you read the story
of Bella Donna, and her Beast?}

   I like my voice, in my head.  If I spoke of him, I would be found mad,
but they can't kill me.  If I wanted to die, it would be a simple matter of
smashing the window, or sliding down the dark hot chimney to the kitchen
hearth.  {Well, not that they would eat you here, but that would be more
appropriate.} I want to be a free man.  {Too bad we can't call the Eagle.}
? {Sorry, that is a story for another time, a long time from now, in a land
not far away.  Never mind, back to the Guard.}

   I don't fancy him, the huntsman has my heart.  {Hahahahah!} What?  {Long
story, that won't get us out of here.} But he is so old, and hairy in the
face.  {Yes, but have you considered that his beard also covers his face,
like a mask?} Of course!  {So, it should be just a matter of getting him
out of his clothes, and putting them on, once you have a beard to wear out
of here.} All right, I like this plan.  {Dressing as a soldier, I thought
you would.  So, if you don't have enough hair to make a rope, maybe you
could to make a beard.}

   I could seduce him, I suppose.  For my freedom, he knows I am not a
virgin, and it must get lonely out there.  Yes, cold and lonely out on the
landing, barred away from the fire, especially late at night.  {Yes, of
course.}

   I am tired, and have nothing to read.  Tell me a story.  {Which one?}
Tell me of the Huntsman, and the Queen.  {Well, long ago, and in a land far
away, there was a beautiful girl in a castle...}

   ;