When Fenric entered Lady Gerthrud’s room, three pairs of eyes turned their attention to him. Only one pair belonged to a woman, but even if more women had been present, Fenric would have had no doubts that the blue eyes looking up at him stiffly belonged to Lord Anshelm’s sister. Lady Gerthrud looked very much like her brother, only her hair was darker and more auburn than red. The child sitting next to her did not bear as strong a resemblance to either sibling, with his upturned nose and almost white hair, but Fenric certainly assumed that he must be Lady Gerthrud's son all the same. The last person present was an old man and probably not related to Lord Anshelm in any way – he looked to be a servant, albeit a learned one.

The three of them sat at a table on top of which lay an open scroll and a few wooden toys. Fenric bowed towards the lady. 

“Lady Gerthrud, I am Fenric, your brother’s new scribe.”

“Ah, very good,” Gerthrud said. “Perhaps you can help Otto learn his letters. Wulfger’s eyes aren’t what they used to be, so he can’t help when Otto is struggling, and I don’t always have time.”

So the old man was the child’s tutor, then. 

“Certainly, Lady,” Fenric said. 

The young Otto looked at Fenric with big, brown eyes before turning to Lady Gerthrud. 

“Mom, what’s a scribe?”

“It’s someone who writes for others,” Lady Gerthrud promptly answered as she dusted off her dress and rose from her chair. 

“Why do they write for others?” Otto asked. 

“Because they are paid to,” Lady Gerthrud answered. “Now, no more questions, Otto. Wulfger was telling you about Rokell the Great, remember?” 

As Otto’s lesson resumed, Lady Gerthrud gestured for Fenric to follow her to the other side of the room. 

“Anshelm went to the castle, didn’t he?”

“He did, Lady.”

She sighed and shook her head. 

“I thought as much…. What a mess.”

Fenric observed the lady for a while, as she looked emptily back towards her son and his tutor, brow furrowed. So Lady Gerthrud was concerned as well, then. About the sorcery or about her brother’s role in finding a solution? It was hard to tell at this point and Fenric was not in a position to ask leading questions. 

“...and all the kings since Rokell the Great have been of House Cletz, just like Rokell the Great himself was. Now do you remember which of the great houses were formed by Rokell’s hirdmen?”

Little Otto’s brow furrowed in an approximation of his mother’s expression. There was the family resemblance, after all. 

“Mmm…. Staller!” 

Wulfger nodded. 

“And?”

“Uhhhmmm…. Uh…. Drotzet!”

“Very good. Now the last one?”

“Uh… uhm…. Mm… Merkis?”

“Yes, that’s correct! Do you remember the names of the two last great houses?”

Otto thought for a long time. By Fenric’s side, Gerthrud’s smile grew more indulgent with every moment her son failed to remember the names of House Werbane and House Rimeberg.

“How old is he, Lady?” Fenric asked. 

“Seven, soon… sometimes I can scarcely believe how big he’s gotten. Do you have children, Fenric?” 

“I do not, Lady.”

He likely never would. 

“Really?” Lady Gerthrud looked Fenric up and down, then smiled teasingly. “Have you really been so very careful that you can be sure? You’re no blushing youth.”

Fenric coughed awkwardly into his hand. He could, in fact, be sure, but he could hardly tell Lady Gerthrud that. A man who had never lain with a woman was hardly a man, was he? It was not quite as bad as the full truth – that Fenric had lain only with men – and certainly not as bad as sorcery, but it was no mark of honour, either. 

“I have none that I know of, Lady,” Fenric amended. 

Lady Gerthrud laughed.

“Sorry for teasing you, that was improper of me,” she said. “I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself, either, which is rather improper, too. I’m Lady Gerthrud Staller – born Drotzet, of course, but Otto is a Staller and so I shall remain.”

She was a Staller because her son was one, not because her husband was? Fenric supposed she had to be a widow. Only a wife would produce a child belonging to his father’s house and only a widow would have the option to leave it. Well, Fenric supposed a divorce would allow the same freedom, but as far as he knew, divorces were rare for nobles. Besides, House Staller would probably not have let Lady Gerthrud raise Otto at a Drotzet hall had that been the case. 

“Well met, Lady,” Fenric said. “Your brother has been most gracious to me.”

“Anshelm is most gracious to everyone,” Lady Gerthrud said dryly, although not unkindly. “He doesn’t hire everyone, though, so you are special in that regard. I’m glad he finally hired a scribe. I may steal you from him on occasion. Apologies in advance – I write a lot of tedious letters.”

“That is of little concern, Lady,” Fenric said. “I doubt my Lady’s letters will be as tedious as the letters I was writing when my Lady’s brother hired me.”

Lady Gerthrud smirked.

“You say that now…” She shook her head. “My letters are far less important than Anshelm’s, so I’ll try not to use you much. In fact, I’d rather you spend any free time you may have on helping my son. I worry about his literacy.”

“You said he was only six, Lady.”

“And my nephew of five can already read better than him. He’s such a distractible child…” Again that indulgent smile appeared on her face, as if she loved her son all the more for his failure to learn his letters as fast as his cousin. “The earlier he learns, the better.”

“I shall do what I can to help, Lady.”

Lady Gerthrud eventually left her chamber, leaving Fenric in the company of her son and his tutor. 

"Wulfger, who's the man?" Otto asked the second his mother was out the door.

"Why don't you try asking him yourself, Otto?" the tutor answered with a kind smile and a look in Fenric's direction.

Otto turned two big, brown eyes on Fenric. 

"Who are you?"

"My name's Fenric, Young Lord. I work for your uncle."

"Uncle Helmi?" 

Fenric suppressed a smile at the nickname.

"Yes, Young Lord."

Otto nodded seriously as he started sucking on his index finger. 

"Now what do we do when others introduce themselves?" Wulfger asked his charge.

Otto turned his big eyes on him instead.

"We introduce ourselves, don't we? Go on!"

Otto removed his finger from his mouth.

"I'm Otberg Staller. Mom says I'm going to be Earl of Mar… Mar…. Marbur one day."

So that was why Lady Gerthrud was so eager for her son to be educated… she had ambitions of becoming the Lady Mother of the Earl of Marcburg one day! Speaking of, Anshelm's letter had been for the current Earl of Marcburg, too. That may just have been due to Anshelm’s position as Hirdman of the Realm, but still… House Drotzet and House Staller seemed quite close these days, didn't they? Although whether Otto stood a chance would seem to depend on when the old Earl Waldemar decided to croak – Fenric didn't know much about Earls and their affairs, but he did know that no-one liked child Earls. Was Lady Gerthrud's ambition to rule in her son's place till he came of age? Maybe even to hold on to power beyond it? Or were her ambitions only on his behalf? An attempt to make sure he would fulfil his destiny?

Fenric supposed it didn't matter much either way. One Earl was as good as another, a noble was a noble was a noble. Still, it didn't hurt to know the temperament of the people around him – nor their motives.

"Now, Otto, do you remember the story of how House Drotzet and House Staller came to be?" Wulfger asked.

Otto nodded eagerly.

"Why don't you try telling Fenric here about it?"

Otto began, in the stumbling way of a six-year-old, to regale Fenric with the story of Rokell the Great that Wulfger had been telling him when Fenric arrived. Though the telling was flawed and faltering, Fenric knew the story well enough to make sense of it all the same.

Centuries ago, Haifaric had been ruled by House Seorth, the Earls of Otzvic since ancient days. The king back then had been King Eiriker, a cruel and cowardly man, so they said, and Earl Rokell Cletz had wanted to liberate the Heiffens from his rule. Together with his hird, his house and his allies in House Werbane, Earl Rokell had become King Rokell the Great, in the process granting his foremost hirdmen land from fallen families. His seneschal was given Otzvic, his staller was given Marcburg and his standard bearer was given Wesland, creating the Houses Drotzet, Staller and Merkis. Having thus taken power and created loyal subjects in just a couple of bloodbaths, King Rokell became a hero.

Yes, Fenric knew the story.

"Very good, Otto," Wulfger said once the boy finished his retelling. 

Wulfger bid Otto tell Fenric about another of his lessons, but Fenric didn't really listen this time. The light had changed in the room and spoke its clear language about the time – late morning. Fenric's insides splashed around like warring wyrms. When would Lord Anshelm be back? What was he discussing with the king? When could Fenric sneak away to meet with The Society? Would his warnings even matter?

Fenric suppressed a sigh. He could do less than nothing for the cause in this moment. He knew very well the power of patience, but that did not make sitting around easy.