1. The Rouge

The makeup was still on my neck.

Scrub as I might, the crimson stain wouldn’t leave my skin. Evidence of the previous evening’s sordid affairs, and a look unbecoming of the commander of the Argent Guard. No, this wouldn’t do at all. If the rouge refused to budge, then I could only attempt to mask it. I drew my razor, careful to align it with the shape of that sinful mark. One slow slice and my skin bled rubies. I rubbed the area, mixing my blood with the remnants of tallow and crushed beetles. Few would question a clumsy shave.

The men under my command were the best of the best. An elite force that protected the kingdom of Ferrum for as long as it had existed. Soldiers of the Argent Guard. Our creed demanded absolute adherence. Unbending strength. Weakness as shame. Masks as cowardice. Any deviance was met with righteous consequence. That was my duty. Performing ultimate adherence to the creed—and exacting punishment for not. Who then would exact punishment on me?

There was a knock at my door.

My stomach sank. Hurriedly I cleaned my hands and stowed my rouge-stained washcloths where no one could see. “Enter,” I called calmly.

The old door creaked open and a silver-cloaked recruit hesitantly stepped through. Barely older than a child. “Forgive the intrusion, m’lord…”

M’lord. Another hapless street urchin seeking to become a man. A teaching moment then, to distract from my own deviance. “I am not a lord, I am your commanding officer. You would do well to address me as such.”

“Y-Yes, Commander Barret!” He straightened his back and puffed his chest.

“Well what is it then?”

“The men are gathered and awaiting the morning testimonial at the parade grounds.”

The testimonial. Every morning the collected guardsmen would gather to hear an inspiring sermon of some aspect of the creed. Normally the commander would speak, but I’ve always preferred monologues of a different sort. I allow others to speak in my stead. A mistake I have grown to regret.

“You should be bothering Sir Aldric with this. He’s meant to be leading them today.”

“Apologies, but—”

“We do not ask forgiveness, naive. We seize the moment. Stand and speak.”

“Sir!” He snapped to attention again. “No one has seen the captain all morning. He was absent from the reveille.”

Aldric, the young firebrand. The Silver Flame, they called him, though the title was not yet official. Or earned. What game was he playing this time?

I sighed and stood from my wash basin. The crimson stain was still visible in the mirror’s reflection, smudged now with drying blood. “Very well, I’ll join the men shortly.”

“Yes, sir.” He turned to leave.

“I do not recall dismissing you, naive.” I searched for a clean cloth. “Attend me.”

The boy stumbled to my side as I wiped my face once more. Blood dotted the beige fabric.

“Sir Barret, you have something—”

“Blood. Even a knight such as I can nick himself shaving,” I threw the cloth in the corner. A performance. Hopefully a convincing one. “Armor.”

The naive passed my armor piece by piece, studying how I fastened each buckle and secured each fitting to my body. His eyes never strayed long from the mark on my neck.

“Instead of gawking, hand me my cloak. Top drawer.”

He slid open the chest, revealing the folded silver garment now glistening in the morning sun. It was this cloak that earned the men of the Guard the nickname “silverbacks” from the people of Ferrum. As he clumsily removed it, the cloak unfurled. A small wooden box fell from its folds and clattered on the floor.

Damn it…

“Apologies, Commander—”

“Leave it!” I barked. He jumped back as I hurried over and snatched the box into my hand. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Did I not just speak about forgiveness?”

“You did, Commander. I…”

I grabbed the cloak from his grasp and threw it around my shoulders, fastening it to my pauldrons. “Then mind what I say. Wait for me outside.”

The boy left without a word. I looked at the small box still trembling in my hand. Foolish. Foolish to have forgotten where I had hidden it. If he had seen inside… I cautiously lifted the lid. Everything was in order. The colors hadn’t mixed. A small blessing. Such a silly, simple thing, and yet it possessed the power to destroy me. I found a new hiding place beneath my mattress, careful to ensure the naive wasn’t watching through the door. With a steadying breath, I adjusted my collar and marched out of the room.

“With me.”

The young recruit followed silently through the cold castle halls until we reached the parade grounds. Two hundred Silverbacks moved through their drills, the clang of steel against steel splitting the morning air. No one noticed my arrival. I took a deep breath, letting the winter cold fill my lungs. I didn't yell. I never needed to.

“Still, silver knights.”

My voice cut through the noise like a blade through cloth. The assembled men stopped mid-swing and sheathed their swords. Bodies turned. Boots planted. Eyes fixed upon me as I ascended the dias. At this moment, these men were mine. And I was theirs, for how much longer, I didn't know.

I surveyed the combined might of the Argent Guard. Then I began.

“I look before me and I do not see a group of men. I see a wall. Shining. Impenetrable. You are that wall.”

“We are the wall,” they answered in unison.

“The realm sleeps softly behind you because you stand firm. You hold back the tides that would consume us all. Your names will never be known. Your deeds will never be thanked. Stand anyway.”

As I spoke, something nagged at the back of mind. I felt the burning gaze of every man fixated on the mark at my neck. I knew these men. I knew what they would think. A wild night in the brothel. The smear of a lover’s kiss. The blood of another man. I forced myself to remain calm.

“The wall does not want. The wall does not fail.”

“We do not fail.”

Two hundred silverbacks cheered in unison, but I felt no joy. This was not the stage I wished to stand on, and I didn't spare a second before leaving it. Looking about, I realized the young naive had vanished into the crowd. He probably ran from fear of me. These boys Aldric keeps attracting. Embarrassing. I descended the dias, my head spinning and my stomach knotted. This should have been Aldric’s duty today, not mine.

“You there, where is Aldric?”

“Sir!” A guardsman stood to attention. “We have not seen the captain all morning.”

“Does anyone know where he might be?”

Each one shook their heads.

“I see. Carry on.”

I turned to my other captains, conferring quietly, but none could account for Aldric’s whereabouts. A distraction was growing at the far end of the parade grounds. Across the yard appeared a rare sight—a graceful pink-haired woman clad in royal armor, marching toward me. Her face stood stern as the men turned to watch and whisper

“What’s a woman doing dressed as a knight?”

“Seriously? It’s the Frozen Rose herself!”

“Kitchen’s the other way, sweetheart!”

“Hold your tongue.” I snapped the words before thinking. “Lady Elise is your Queen’s chosen sword. More than that” I collected myself. “She could take every one of you without ever breaking a sweat.”

“I’d like to break a sweat taking her…” The men laughed and jabbed at each other, their masculine pride overtaking their sense.

“Would you like to try, little boy?”

Though she stood shorter than even my shortest knight, her presence loomed over the fools with a heavy intimidation. A scar, pale and old, traced her jaw from ear to chin. The kind that would have killed someone less stubborn. Certainly these boys. She never bothered to hide it. They gawked in silent embarrassment.

“Dismissed,” I sighed.

They ran off with their tails between their legs.

“Oh dear. I think I bruised their egos.”

“I do not ask your forgiveness for the disrespectful actions of my men, Lady Elise.”

“Is that what you call them? They look more like boys to me, Sir Barret.” She chuckled, clearly amused. “Soon you’ll need a wet nurse to feed all these babes.”

"Aldric's doing. And the King’s”

Her amusement shifted to curiosity. “Such treasonous talk for such a prestigious knight.”

“I merely state the facts. His form of leadership has caused immense hardships.”

“Sir Aldric’s or the King’s?”

“Now who’s treasonous,” I snorted.

“I take it Aldric’s challenge still persists?” she asked, softer now.

“It does.”

It pained me to think of it. Almost a year to the day, the young firebrand Aldric raised a challenge of confidence in my leadership before King Dastun. I had grown soft in his eyes, no longer adhering to the strictest tenants of the creed. He claimed I permitted sin and deviance into the Guard. Dastun—in his infinite wisdom—permitted the challenge. We would both lead the Guard, and in one year’s time, he would assess who was truly worthy. Since that day, Aldric had circled me like a hungry wolf, challenging and weakening me at every turn. In truth, I had opened myself to this with my own deviance.

“I am sorry, my friend. I see how it weighs on you.”

“Never mind that. Perhaps you should throw your name into the challenge as well. I’m sure you would make many changes.”

“Ha! This boy’s club would shatter with a woman at its helm.”

“End the Argent Guard? That would be heresy.”

“Please. You know as well as I that your creed is outdated.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It was born from a time of religious zeal that hasn’t gripped the kingdom in centuries.”

She spoke the truth so plainly. And yet I fear that’s what Aldric sought to revive.

“I am curious as to your purpose here today, Lady Elise.”

“Indeed.” Her voice shifted, all business now. “The Queen requests your presence in the great hall.”

A cold wave passed through me. The Argent Guard was under the King’s purview. The Queen and I had barely exchanged more than a single pleasantry since my installation ceremony as commander. What could she suddenly want?

“Does she now? And Queen Mariyah sent her most trusted sword to convey this message personally?”

“She did.”

Lady Elise and I shared many similar qualities, so I could sense the concern beneath her stoicism. That fact alone made my stomach churn.

“Then let’s not make the Queen wait.”

The men jumped to attention as we exited the parade grounds. I could feel their eyes on me, hear their whispers as they tried to discern why I was leaving with the Queen’s sword. We walked in silence together, each step echoing like a death knell in the cold and empty hall. The crimson stain on my neck burned hotter with every stride.

“Sir Barret the Bastion,” Elise mused, as if sensing my growing unease. “Hmm.”

“Does my title amuse you, Lady Elise, the Frozen Rose?”

“Such silly names they give us, don’t they? I suppose they are marks of achievement, meant to convey traits they find admirable. Or in some cases, demeaning.”

“Ours were won by our own actions. I see them as rewards for our deeds.”

“Perhaps. But a frozen rose will shatter when struck hard enough. And no one man is a wall unto himself without eventually collapsing.”

“I sense there is more you are trying to say.”

“You are in danger, Sir.” Her voice was remarkably gentle, yet her words sliced across my skin.

“How so?”

“I am unsure. But if I am to guess—” She hesitated. “I believe your missing captain is involved.”

“I see. And the Queen finds it important I make my presence felt?”

“See for yourself.”

We stopped before the closed entrance to the throne room. The heavy wooden doors looked more imposing than ever. Or perhaps I just felt small, weighed down by the mark of shame on my neck.

“You enter alone. Ready?”

“I am.”

“You are a good man, Sir Barret,” Elise nodded, “and I don’t say those words lightly. Open the doors.”

The soldiers pushed the heavy doors open, revealing the King’s council sat in attendance. At its head sat King Dastun and Queen Mariyah in all their finery. In the center of the room stood a man whose fiery presence struck at my very soul.

“...And I would beseech this council to examine such deviance—ah, Commander.”

Aldric.

He had always been handsome in the way a sword is handsome. Clean lines. Polished surface. The promise of strength in perfect stillness. His black armor supposedly honored the Guard’s fallen. Silver flames licked up his arms. His cloak had real silver woven into the fabric for a greater shine. Every detail of his appearance proclaimed the same message—he was what the creed intended. He was the most honest man in the room.

He was a snake who believed himself a saint. And that made him the most dangerous person in the room.

I didn't respond. It was not my place—nor his—to address anyone until the King or council addressed us. But protocol had never been his strong suit.

“Sir Barret. What is the meaning of this?” Dastun’s voice wavered with confusion. “I didn't summon you.”

The council murmured. Aldric stood smugly, clearly amused by the interruption.

“No, dear husband.” Queen Mariyah’s voice rose above the hum, “But I did.”

She turned to the King with quiet authority. I had never seen her challenge him this openly. What was her aim?

“Your Grace, the Queen oversteps! This is highly inappropriate.”

“I do beg your forgiveness, my lord. I forget my role as Queen is merely to be a silent accessory to the King.”

“Your Grace—!”

“Lord Casimir, your concerns are noted.” Dastun paused, glancing between his wife and the councilor like a man watching a joust he didn't understand. “But she is the Queen.”

“Thank you, husband.”

I was never interested in the affairs of court, but Lord Casimir’s reputation extended well beyond the castle walls. He was a rabble-rouser. Always stirring opinions, picking fights with the King and his leadership. Some said he had eyes on the throne. I always thought him just another feckless blowhard like the rest of these pigs. My focus wasn’t on him now, but on Aldric.

“My only interest is ensuring the King’s justice is met equally to all those in his realm.” The Queen shifted her gaze to me. “Sir Barret, Sir Aldric has brought forth an accusation against you. It is only right that you be afforded the opportunity to face your accuser.”

I felt it then, in her eyes. A flicker of something. A warning, perhaps? Or an apology.

“I see, Your Grace.” My heart was in my throat, but I forced the words out. “And may I ask the nature of this accusation?”

Aldric’s face twisted into an unnatural smile. His tongue slithered eagerly behind his teeth.

“Commander Barret.” His voice carried the satisfaction of a man who had been waiting a very long time. “You have something on your neck.”

More murmuring. I felt the weight of the entire kingdom’s attention fall upon the red stain on my neck. I understood at that moment that I had already lost. Aldric had chosen his moment well, and I had walked directly into it.

“This man—this knight!—has taken to the stage,” he boomed, the leading man of his own performance. “Choosing to spend his evenings not amongst the company of his loyal men, but with thespians and mummers. Cavorting with deviants. He paints himself as one of them. See the evidence on his neck!” His voice dripped with salacious delight. “He has brought great disservice to us all. Prancing around the stage under the shadow of night, in a manner unbecoming of not only a knight of the realm, but of the commander of the Argent Guard himself!”

The room fell silent.

“These are serious claims, Sir Aldric.” Lord Casimir leaned forward. “Do you have any evidence to support such deviance?”

“I do.”

From the corner emerged a figure in a silver cloak. A familiar face.

The naive.

In his hands he held my little wooden box. Aldric snatched it from him with theatrical flourish. Betrayed by my own men.

“See here, the sordid tools of a liar! Discovered by a loyal knight of the Argent Guard!” He opened the box, revealing my stage makeup to the court. “The evidence of its use is still on the man’s face.”

The hall erupted in gasps and angry murmurs.

“This is disgraceful!”

“The commander of the Argent Guard moonlighting as some stage dandy?”

“He pollutes the creed!”

“Remove him!”

So many voices, yet my mind was on the naive. Had I been too harsh? In my fervor to hide my secret, had I been so cruel to drive him into Aldric’s hands? Or had he come to my chamber with a purpose from the start? Impressionable young boys were easy to manipulate. Aldric knew that as well as I did.

“Well done, lad.” Aldric whispered in the naive’s ear. “You shall be rewarded for your loyalty to the creed.”

“Thank you, m’lord.”

“Your Grace, this must not be permitted to stand!” Lord Casimir’s voice rose above the chaos. “This man threatens the future of our most noble order and of this kingdom!”

“Well I—” the King started.

“Gentlemen!” The Queen’s voice cut through. “Perhaps before rushing to judgement, we allow Sir Barret to speak in his own defence.”

I met her eyes again. She had known. Before I ever walked into this room, she had known. And still she had summoned me here—not to save me, but to ensure I faced the accusation with my own voice. Whether that was mercy or its own kind of cruelty, I could not yet tell.

“Yes, Commander.” Aldric turned to me, teeth bared. “What does the mighty Barret the Bastion say in his own defense?” Aldric spat. “Tell us where you got that mark on your neck really?”

I could have lied. I was very good at it after all these years, performing the role of commander. Aldric knew it. I could see it in his sick smile—he was waiting for me to try. Waiting for the pleasure of ripping it apart. But the evidence was on my skin. The lie was already exposed. And I was so tired of the lying. All that remained was the confession.

“A theater,” I said plainly. “I was at a theater.”

The hall erupted once more. Queen Mariyah fell back in her seat, but her eyes never left mine. Lord Casimir and the others yelled angrily at King Dastun who stammered and struggled to respond. But Aldric…he just smiled. He had won the challenge.

“Enough!” The King’s voice cracked. His face was red, his fingers jabbing at the air. “A year. I gave you a year. And this is what you do with it? Playacting? Dressing up like some—” He could not even finish the thought. “I remove you as commander of the Argent Guard. Commander Aldric, deal with this deviant. I am done looking at him.”

“Gladly, Your Grace.”

Aldric stood before me, triumphant. He reached out and tore the commander’s insignia from my cloak. The silver pin clattered to the stone floor. Then he ripped the cloak itself from my shoulders. The weight I had carried these many years—vanished. Cold air kissed my neck and the red stain where the fabric rested.

“I refuse to sully myself with your taint,” Aldric said, dropping my cloak to the ground. It looked smaller on the ground than it had on my shoulders.

I didn't beg. I didn't explain. I stood still.

Bastion, they called me, the wall against which all enemies broke.

And I finally crumbled.