Grace Of Gatewick

"All right, Lady Grace. Let me tell you the story of Nils of Wintergarden and his adventure in the woods, far from the country estate of my family." He gave a little bow, with a steady voice.

Grace blinked in surprise, then giggled softly. She dipped in a neat curtsey, eyes bright. "Grace. Grace of…" She paused for a heartbeat and then finished, "Grace of Gatewick. I am visiting the old lands of my family at the moment. It is super boring." She sighed with exaggerated weariness and looked back at him. "So please, Ser Nils, tell me the story of Nils of Wintergarden."

Her tone was light, and her smile made his chest tighten. Of Gatewick. That meant she was not just a baron's daughter. His father had always referred to Wintergarden as a vassal of House Marren, in service to the County of Gatewick. If she was "of Gatewick," then her family must be above Marren, maybe viscounts, maybe counts. Nils realized then that he was lucky she had woken him here. He could at least prepare himself a little before meeting her parents.

He straightened and nodded. "Then I will try to ease your boredom, my lady."

Nils closed his eyes for a short moment to gather himself. How should he even tell his story to Grace? He was the son of a baronet, born into a self-made noble house of Wintergarden. They were not counted as real peers, only a step above commoners, closer to knights. His father's dream had always been to climb higher, to become a true noble family. That dream shaped everything in their household. His children were raised to marry well, to form bonds with higher families, and to carry themselves in a way that would open doors. His father had gathered enough wealth to give them good dowries and a proper start in life, but he had also taught them to be careful. Words were weapons in noble circles, and mistakes could cost dearly.

This was why Nils weighed every word now. The girl who had woken him, Grace, was clearly one of the peers. He tried not to make a bad impression and not to tell his story in a way that might upset her or make her father angry. There was also the other problem. She was beautiful in a way that made it hard for him to think straight. He knew it was bad behavior to stare, but he could not stop himself. He forced his thoughts back into order and took a slow breath.

When he opened his eyes again, he managed a small smile and tried to look confident and began. "It started when my father decided to travel to Stonefield. We have a house there, and he promised my younger sister Cleria and me that we could come with him. It was the first time he had let us join him on such a journey. Cleria was so excited that she could hardly sit still in the carriage. She wanted to see the city more than anything in the world."

He hesitated a moment, then continued. "The morning we left, before we reached the main road, we were ambushed. It happened in the woods of Gatewick. The path was narrow and the trees grew thick on both sides. They came from every direction. Bandits. Father tried to fight. He was struck down but lived. The guards were overwhelmed. I remember the shouting, the screams, and the smell of iron. I remember Cleria's hand gripping mine. Then they dragged us out of the carriage. They beat the guards until they stopped moving. Father's shoulder was cut open, and he was bleeding when they tied us together."

He spoke slower now. "They took us into the woods. Father, Cleria, me, and a few others from the retinue. The ropes were tight, and anyone who stumbled was hit. If they fell again, they were left behind. I was too afraid to look back. I just walked. I do not know how long it took. Maybe hours, maybe a day."

Grace sat quietly and watched him. Her silence made it easier to keep talking.

"The bandit camp was deep in the forest," he said. "It was not a normal camp. They had huts of wood and hides, and fires that burned even in the rain. The ground was always damp. Smoke hung in the air and made your throat sting. They put us in shallow pits covered with planks at night or tied us to poles when they wanted to see us suffer. Food was just scraps. A handful of grain, sometimes a bit of dried meat. The water came from a muddy pool that smelled like rot."

He rubbed his palms together. "They made us work. Carrying logs, fetching water, cleaning their mess. The older men were forced to cut wood until their hands bled. The women were kept near the fire. I do not know what they did to them, but it was cruel. They treated us like animals."

He swallowed, his throat was tight. "They separated me from Cleria after a few days. I begged them not to, but they laughed. She was about our age, ten years old, and they still…" He trailed off, his voice breaking. "I heard her crying at night. Sometimes they let me bring her water. She tried to smile at me, but her face looked wrong, like it belonged to someone else."

He stopped for a breath, but the words came again, fast and heavy. "I tried to stay strong. I watched, I listened, I tried to remember everything. But each day was worse. Some of the younger captives disappeared. I never saw them again. I do not know if they were sold or killed. The bandits were not just thieves. They were something else. Like slavers. Some of them even marked us. They burned symbols into our skin with hot metal. They said it made us theirs."

He rolled up his sleeve slightly, showing the faint scars that twisted across his arm. "I do not know what it means, only that it hurt. Cleria had them too."

He rubbed his eyes quickly, ashamed of the tears. He had promised himself not to scare Grace, not to burden her, but now he could not stop. When he looked back up, she was still watching him. Her face was calm and steady. There was no shock in her eyes, no pity, nothing he had expected. Her stillness made him falter.

She tilted her head slightly. Her eyes widened a little, as if something in his words had struck her. "Sorry for your loss," she said evenly. "You speak of your sister in the past. What happened? And how did you escape?"

Her question went through him like a blade. He took a shaky breath. "One day they brought new captives. I was with my father then. He was still alive, but barely. He pulled me close and whispered that I had to find Cleria and run. He said he would create an opening for me. I told him I would not leave him, but he told me I must. He said I was his heir, and it was already too late for him. He said the bandits never sent anyone to demand ransom because they were after something else. I did not understand what he meant, but I believed him."

Grace's lips curved a little. A quiet "Mh" came from her throat.

Nils hardly heard her. The memory had him again. "When the new captives arrived, everything turned loud. Father spoke to the men nearby and told them this was the moment. They picked up whatever they could find. A stick, a pot, a rock. The first guard fell before he even shouted. Then all at once the camp was in chaos. I ran. I ran straight to where I knew Cleria was kept."

He clenched his hands as he spoke. "She was sitting with some girls near a broken hut. When she looked at me, she did not seem to see me. I begged her to get up, but she did not move. The other girls were the same. They looked empty, like they had no will left. Maybe they were given something to keep them quiet. I do not know. I heard the fighting behind me and the screams. I knew there was no time."

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He pressed a hand to his face, shaking his head. "I tried my best. I wanted to help them all, but I could not. I lifted her over my shoulders and ran. The others did not even move when I told them to follow. I just ran."

The words came slower now, heavy with exhaustion. "I went the same way the guards had come when they dragged in new people. I remembered where the hedge was thin. I pushed through it with her on my back. The branches tore my clothes and scratched my face, but I kept going. There was shouting behind me. I kept running."

He drew a shaky breath. "I did not know someone had seen me. When I was halfway through the trees, arrows hissed past me. One struck a trunk, another tore my sleeve. I ran harder. I did not even look back. I just ran until the sound of their voices faded and the woods grew quiet."

Nils's hands shook as he stared at them. "When I finally stopped, because I thought I was safe, I set Cleria down. The adrenaline that had carried me was gone. I looked at her and then I saw it. An arrow had struck her in the back. She had not screamed. And everything was red, it was so much blood…" His voice broke. "She was smiling at me. She moved her lips like she wanted to say something, but I could not understand."

He swallowed and his voice went thin. "I knew she would die if I did not find help fast, but we were in the middle of the woods. There was no one. That evening she died in the makeshift camp I had made for us. It took me the whole night to bury her so the wild animals would not take her body."

Tears streamed down his face now. "After that I wandered through the forest for days. I thought I would die too. I was close to collapsing when two men from a village found me."

He looked down, his voice almost a whisper. "That is how I came here."

Nils tried to stop sobbing, even as the memories hit him again. Speaking it aloud felt like living through it a second time. His breath came unevenly and he wiped at his face with the back of his hand.

Then he heard Grace's voice. It was quiet and almost without emotion. "So, I guess you do not know where you came from, do you?"

He sniffed and shook his head. "No… I guess not." His voice was small.

For a moment he stared at the floor, unsure if he had gone too far with his story. Maybe he had scared her. Maybe she was just trying to act calm to hide it. He dared a glance at her again.

But when he looked at her, she was smiling.

"You really are useless, aren't you?" she said in a sweet voice.

He blinked, not sure if he had heard her right. The words didn't even make sense at first. There was something strange in the way she said them, soft and almost playful, but it felt wrong.

Before he could ask, she tilted her head slightly, still smiling. "Also, not the same age… not even that you could see."

He frowned, confused. "Sorry? What?"

Her eyes narrowed just a little, and she said lightly, "I'm six. Not ten or eleven."

He stared at her. Six? What kind of joke was that? For a moment he waited for her to laugh, but she didn't. His stomach tightened. Was she mocking him? Did she find his story amusing? After everything he had just told her, after his sister's death, was this her idea of fun?

Anger began to rise in him, hot and sudden. "Don't talk nonsense," he said sharply. "You look my age, maybe a year younger. And who even cares about that? Is this fun to you? Do you find it funny that my family was killed by those bandits?"

She tapped a finger against her cheek, her smile never fading. "And what if I say yes?"

He froze. The air in the small room felt suddenly heavy. For a second, he could not think of a single thing to say.

But before he could react, she shook her head. "Don't worry, Nils. I'm just coping with your sad story by making bad jokes. Bad family habits." She stuck out her tongue at him, the gesture quick and oddly childish.

He stared at her, uncertain if he should laugh or feel insulted. The whole situation was strange. Something in her tone felt wrong, like the words were part of a mask she put on because she was bored. It almost seemed like she was pretending to be this bright, playful girl again, while the person he had seen before—the one without expression—was the real one.

But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? He was tired, confused, and after everything that had happened, his mind was bound to twist things. He must have misread her. He told himself that she was only trying to lighten the mood. Yes, that was all.

He rubbed his face with one hand and took a slow breath. He just needed to talk to some adults, explain everything properly, and finally get help. That was what mattered.

Grace smiled again, her expression bright and calm. "Don't worry. We will do something about these bandits. And maybe we will even find your father still alive."

For a moment he just looked at her. Iras, her smile—her blue eyes, her blond locks—everything about her looked unreal. "Are you really six?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. That could not be true.

She chuckled. "Yes, I am. I am just tall for my age, don't worry. I am far older here." She tapped a finger lightly against her temple.

He realized then how rude that must have sounded. He looked down at the floor. "Sorry… I guess the last weeks have gotten to my head."

"Ah, don't worry," she said, still smiling. "But you gave me an idea on how to find those bandits..."

He looked up, confused. "Find them? You don't mean… you're not going to search for them yourself, are you?"

Grace waved a hand casually. "Not by myself, of course. You will come with me."

Nils blinked, unsure if he had heard her right. "Come with you? You mean… you want to search for the bandits with me?"

"Why not?" she said with a grin. "It will be fun."

He stared at her. Fun? The word didn't fit. Did she really think this was some kind of game?

Grace seemed amused by his expression. "No buts," she said lightly. "Of course, not just the two of us. I have a friend, a girl about your age." She emphasized the word your with a teasing tone. "I bet she will be happy to help. Especially since you said the bandits were taking young girls. Perfect bait, don't you think?"

He froze, his mind blank. Was she serious? He could not tell. Her voice was cheerful, her smile warm, but her words were terrifying.

"I… sorry," he managed, his voice breaking slightly. "Maybe let me first speak with your father."

Grace tilted her head a little, her smile never leaving her face. "You see… there are no adults here who would stop me from doing what I want. And I forgot to mention—my father is dead. So don't worry about him."

She stretched her arms lazily and let out a dramatic yawn, as if the whole topic bored her. "Also, I think you should move on. No girl wants a traumatized boy. It's unsexy."

Nils's mouth felt open, but no words came out. Again, she had caught him completely off guard. What had she just said? Her father was dead? And that last part—what did that even mean? She was six. Or at least she claimed to be. Was she mocking him again? Was this some cruel joke?

His thoughts stumbled over each other. Maybe she was repeating something she had heard from adults and didn't even understand. That had to be it. Surely, she was not serious. She couldn't be.

He stood there, still trying to make sense of it, while she turned away as if nothing strange had been said at all. She opened the door and spoke to someone outside in a calm, casual tone.

He could not quite make out what they were saying, but the sound of another voice made him realize something important. Someone had been waiting there the whole time. That meant Grace had not simply wandered into the hall and found him by chance. She had come here on purpose. She had planned this.

Grace… who was this girl?

The thought sank into him like a weight, and in that moment he understood something else as well. He would never forget her. Whether he wanted to or not, she would stay in his mind.

Before he could gather his thoughts, she stepped outside, and a tall man in black plate armor entered the room. The knight's armor gleamed faintly in the dim light, and his presence filled the space. "Lady Grace requested that you come with her," the man said. His voice was deep and steady. "Please follow me to the carriage."

Nils looked up at him, speechless for a moment. The knight was easily twice his height and three times his width. His movements were slow but precise, each step measured. A real knight—Grace's knight. The realization struck him with awe. It was impressive, even frightening, that someone her age had such a guardian at her side.

He nodded, too intimidated to speak, still half-lost in thought. If not for everything that had happened—his family, the bandits, the loss—he might have even found this whole situation exciting.

Maybe Grace truly would help him.

He took one last look around the small room and then followed the knight out into the hall.

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