11 - Nights at the Pavilion

 

The next evening, after another day of training with Luitold, Bernhart returned to the Guest Pavilion to begin his next shift of guard duty. He had only half a day between his shifts, time which was split between about five hours of sleep in the early morning and seven hours of training, eating, and bathing until a few hours before dusk when he would begin again.

Bernhart and Canagan traded places in silence, communicating only through stern glances. Once the knight had gone, Bernhart made his presence known to the princess.

“It’s me again, Your Highness,” he said into the closed cedar doors.

“Bernhart? Finally, I’ve been waiting for you,” the princess said from within. 

Bernhart could hear footsteps gradually getting louder from the other side as Agnes walked to the door to talk.

“How has your day been, m’lady?” Bernhart asked.

“Boring,” Agnes replied, “as I’m sure you could have guessed. How has yours?”

“Well, quite tiring,” Bernhart said, surprised the princess cared to ask, “I’ve been training a young boy in combat these past few days. He’s quite the handful.”

“Oh, I see. What’s his name?”

“Luitold. He’s a peasant just like me, from Holzstadt. Dietrich has taken interest in him.”

“Dietrich sure does like his peasants.”

“I’m telling you, he’s a very generous man.”

“Bernhart, I’m not marrying him.”

“Sorry, I forgot you’re not fond of him.”

Bernhart, who had now readjusted to the environment of the Pavilion’s exterior, began to lean against the doors once again, just as he did the previous day once he had become more comfortable.

“Luitold’s circumstances are a little different from mine, though,” Bernhart continued, “He kind of stumbled into this life rather than seeking it out, you could say.”

“And how is that?” Agnes asked.

“Well, it’s complicated, and a little disturbing,” Bernhart said, “I’m not sure if you would want to hear the full story.”

“I’m not a child, Bernhart, come on,” Agnes beckoned from within, “How disturbing could it really be?”

Bernhart exhaled deeply as he reminisced on all that had happened in the past few weeks
“You see, I met Luitold when we were both called to defend Rheinmark from Alemannia,” Bernhart explained, “The battle was intense. The enemies called in a dragon from above, which rained down fire on our men.”

“A dragon? But Alemannia shouldn’t have control over magical creatures,” Agnes said, surprised.

“Has no one told you about this? It was a very great concern for all of us there. I’m sure there were messengers sent after the battle,” Bernhart said.

“The men at the palace tend to keep me in the dark about such matters,” Agnes told him, “I’ve read books about warfare but they still don’t think I can handle the subject. Please, continue.”

“Somehow, Alemannia seized control of the magic that before only belonged to your father,” Bernhart explained, “As I said, they used it to summon a dragon, which killed nearly half of our men with its flames. As we scrambled for survival, Luitold and I were surrounded by enemy soldiers. Just as we were about to die, he found a strange jar on the ground and shattered it against his assailant. When it broke, a cloud of smoke emerged from within and surrounded his body, turning him into what we can only call the beast.”

“What do you mean?” Agnes asked.

“Luitold has some kind of inherent bond to dark magic. When the jar shattered, he took the form of a dark shadowy monster, one that killed dozens of men in a wild frenzy.”

“I see,” Agnes said, “So Dietrich found this power interesting and took him in?”

“Yes, exactly,” Bernhart replied, surprised by the princess’s intuition, “And for all of the time I’ve spent with him since, I’ve been teaching him how to become stronger in this beast form of his. Dietrich wants to use it to evolve his military.”

“I don’t understand what need he would have for such a power,” Agnes said, “For one, Avaria is already strong enough with the magic we have. For another, I feel this kind of dark magic isn’t something meant for man to control.”

“I can’t say I understand, either, but I—” Bernhart stopped himself. He remembered what Agnes had told him the day before, that he should try to think for himself more. He was going to say it wasn’t his place to question the Count, but now he had to question what he truly believed.

“I agree. There’s something wrong with what he’s planning. I can feel it,” he said.

“I’m glad you can at least admit that,” Agnes said.

It was strange voicing any kind of concern for Dietrich’s plans. In fact, Bernhart wasn’t sure if he had done anything remotely of that sort before. There was some power to the princess that seemed to bring a different way of thinking out of his mind.

“So, what will you do when he comes back from his trip?” Bernhart asked.

“Tell him I’m not interested and kindly be on my way,” the princess replied.

“You don’t intend to stick around at all?” 

“Not much, so you’d better enjoy me while I’m here.”

“I see,” Bernhart said, “Oh, speaking of which, didn’t you want to see what I look like?”

“Oh, yes! I forgot I told you that,” Agnes said.

Just a moment later, Bernhart felt the surface behind his back slip away as the cedarwood doors he leaned on opened wide to the interior. With no time to regain his balance, the soldier fell dramatically to the ground, his back hitting the cold marble floor of the pavilion’s main room.

“Woah!” he groaned as a wave of embarrassment shot through his body.

Looking down at him in his unflattering position was Agnes herself, who held a hand over her mouth as she gasped in shock. Quickly, a wide smile extended past her fingers as she fell into a spurt of hearty laughter. The princess laughed until she appeared to be in pain, holding her abdomen in both hands as she leaned over with tears forming at her eyelids.

Bernhart scrambled to his feet, his face hot with shame and embarrassment. He stood before The princess with his hands firmly at his sides, attempting to look as composed as possible as if he hadn’t fallen in the first place.

“M’lady! I—I apologize for my clumsiness!” he stammered.

“Bernhart, you fool!” Agnes laughed, “I didn’t know you were leaning on the door.”

Bernhart looked down at his feet and held his arms close to his chest as he internalized what had just happened. He couldn’t bring himself to look the princess in the eye.

“I was making myself comfortable,” he murmured.

“Making yourself comfortable, Bernhart? How unprofessional!” the princess said with a smile. Just a moment later, she fell into yet another fit of laughter, leaning on an extremely expensive looking chair as she failed to compose herself, occasionally turning back to see Bernhart’s ghostly expression between her guffaws.

“You find this amusing, princess,” Bernhart said with a sullen face.

“Oh, I do!” Agnes replied as she turned around to lean against the backrest of the chair, “I don’t get to laugh much, you see. I think you just made my week, Bernhart.”

A small smile began to appear on Bernhart’s face, knowing his mishap at least made the princess happy.

“Well, don’t expect me to do it again,” he said with his arms crossed, feigning anger, “I do not intend to be your jester.”

“You don’t even have to try,” the princess said with a giggle, “I think foolishness is in your nature.”

With little to say, Bernhart let out a deep breath, removing the pent up stress from his body. His fall had shaken him so much he hardly had time to realize the magnitude of the sight before him. Just a few feet in front of him was the princess of Avaria, heir to His Divine Majesty King Willem. Her beauty was just as apparent as it was when she looked out from her carriage window the day before, only now he could see her in full detail. Her clothing was far less formal in the privacy of the pavilion, wearing a unicolor lavender dress made of fine silk, which was minimal in its layering. Instead of the extravagant crown or veil she would be forced to wear in public, over the middle of her forehead was a lightweight chain of woven gold wire, which served to keep her long flowing hair out of her eyes. At its center was a delicately carved red gem.

Bernhart, totally mesmerized by the princess’s simple elegance, stood in silence as he looked at her. Agnes seemed to notice his shock and continued speaking to fill the silence.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” she said, “You could probably use it.”

“Thank you,” Bernhart said as he quickly bowed at the waist.

The main room of the Guest Pavilion was of only moderate size, though it made up for the fact with its exquisite use of rare materials and luxurious furnishing. At its center was a large wooden table, surrounded by a series of intricate looking chairs circling around it. Each chair was fitted with tall backrests and quilted pillowy fabric befitting of the average noble’s main throne.

“This is quite the nice space you’ve got all to yourself,” Bernhart said, gently lowering himself into one of the chairs.

“Indeed, it is of nearly the same elegance as the inside of the palace,” Agnes replied, “I’d be quite fond of it if I wasn’t imprisoned here.”

“Imprisoned?” Bernhart said, “You certainly have a unique way of describing things.”

“Well, am I wrong?” Agnes asked as she walked around and found a seat in the chair beside Bernhart’s, “I don’t really have the option to leave, and I’m left here alone in my solitude…at least for half of the day.”

Agnes looked into Bernhart’s eyes with a smile that seemed incredibly genuine.

“You realize I really shouldn’t be in here,” Bernhart said, closing his eyes in bashfulness.

“Until Dietrich returns, you are under my order, and as it stands, I command you to be inside the pavilion,” Agnes said as she forwardly put her hand on the armrest of Bernhart’s chair.

“I suppose I’m not breaking the rules, then,” Bernhart replied.

Agnes eased back into her seat, leaning back and making herself comfortable with her hands resting in her lap.

“I think most of the rules you live by are only within your head, Bernhart,” she said, “At least now that the Count isn’t around.”

“I call that a knight’s integrity,” Bernhart said, “I must strive to abide by my lord’s wishes even when my only option is to assume what they are. Some would call it treason for me to be so close to his desired bride.”

“What does it matter if I’m not marrying him anyway? God, you’re so uptight about everything,” Agnes told him, “You really ought to settle down and enjoy things a little, without worrying about what the world thinks.”

“Says the royal,” Bernhart quipped.

“Oh?” Agnes shifted forward in her seat again as she looked at Bernhart with amusement, “Snapping at a princess? I suppose this is what I asked for.”

Bernhart’s expression quickly turned to one of terror as he looked back at her with the same scared eyes he exhibited after his embarrassing fall.

“I—I’m sorry!” he croaked, “I don’t know what got into me!”

Agnes laid her head against the palm of her hand, watching him with what looked to be the kind of condescending adoration one would have for a small child.

“Perhaps you haven’t changed as quickly as I thought,” she said.

The princess then turned her head around to face one of the stained glass windows of the pavilion’s front wall. The light travelling through was becoming more and more subtle as the time passed.

“It seems it’s getting late,” she said, rising from her seat, “I’ll be heading to bed shortly.”

“Then I suppose I will excuse myself then,” Bernhart replied, standing up from his chair as well.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bernhart.”

For the rest of the night, Bernhart remained outside in silence, just as he had done the night before. He began to notice his body was becoming extremely tired, and on multiple occasions he struggled to keep his eyes open until dawn came and Canagan relieved him of his shift.

Another day passed. Bernhart slept for about five hours, and then trained for another six, followed by an hour of bathing and preparation. For the rest of the day until dusk, he spent his time inside the pavilion, sharing stories with Agnes until it was time for her to go to bed. It wouldn’t be until the following day that things would become more interesting between them, but that would have to wait, since Bernhart first had to stay awake all night outside the front doors until Canagan again arrived. From there, he returned to his bedroom in the keep and fell asleep.

Only five hours after that, it was time for Bernhart to awake again and spar with Luitold in the pit just as he had the past two days. Though Luitold was subtly improving, Bernhart felt his success in combat was only decreasing because of his general exhaustion. He had become used to the privilege of a healthy night’s sleep, and now with his new busy life he had been stripped of that privilege. The only thing getting him through his rigorous hours of mentoring was the promise that he would get to see Agnes again later that night. It was a strange feeling, being excited to see someone, and not one he was used to. 

The routine continued, with Bernhart and Luitold ending their training for the day and heading off to the bathhouse to clean up. Once that was over, they parted ways and Bernhart again made his way to the Guest Pavilion for another shift of guard duty, giving Canagan a fierce scowl as they crossed paths in silence. With Canagan gone, Bernhart knocked on the double doors.

“Shall I come in?” he asked.

“Yes, go ahead,” Agnes answered from within.

Bernhart gently creaked open the righthand door and slipped inside, witnessing the opulence of the Pavilion’s interior once again. Beside the room’s central table, Agnes was relaxing in one of the grand cushioned chairs reading a large leather-bound book. Today she was clothed in a maroon dress as opposed to lavender, though its material and shape appeared to be the same as the last. Her head was again decorated with the thin golden circlet that she wore the two days before. The princess peered up from her book, calmly smiling at Bernhart.

“Hello, Bernhart,” she said.

“Hello, m’lady,” Bernhart replied, “How are you faring today?”

“Not so dissimilar to yesterday,” Agnes told him as she closed her book, “Although I’ve at least found a way to pass the time. It turns out there’s a closet full of books here. Much of them I remember seeing on the shelves at home but I never felt compelled to read any.”

The princess held up her book in one hand, revealing the title engraved on its spine. Though Bernhart was literate, the words of this particular book were written in latin, as many academic writings were at the time.

“What is it?” Bernhart asked.

“It’s called The Governance of Kingdoms,” she said, “I recognized it as a book my father used to read when I was little. I figured it might stimulate my mind a bit.”

“That sounds quite interesting,” Bernhart said, “I imagine someone like you would need to be interested in such a topic.”

Agnes looked down into her lap solemnly.

“It was always something my father wanted me to take more seriously, but it was hard for me to imagine a world where I would need to,” she said, “Now that I’m becoming a woman, it’s only the responsible thing to do.”

“I see,” Bernhart said as he continued to stand beside the entrance.
“You don’t need my permission to sit down, you know,” Agnes said, turning back in her seat to face him.

“Oh, sorry,” Bernhart said.

Bernhart mechanically walked to the center of the room and found a seat in the chair to the left of Agnes. Following his seating, the princess stared at his face for a few moments in silence with her brow subtly furrowed in analytical concentration.

“You seem a little under the weather today,” she said.

“Huh? Oh, not at all,” Bernhart replied, “Don’t worry about me.”

“Has your training with Luitold been getting the best of you?” the princess asked.

“Pssh! Of course not,” the soldier bluffed, “The kid’s still got a ways to go before he can make me break a sweat.”

“Clearly something is ailing you,” Agnes said, “I can see it in your face. Your eyes are tired.”

Bernhart let out a deep sigh, forcing himself to look inward.

“I’ve been having trouble resting these past few days,” he said.

“How so?”

“This guard duty has thrown my schedule off balance. I hardly have proper time to sleep anymore.”

“Why don’t you just sleep in here?” Agnes asked.

“What?” Bernhart replied as his eyes bulged from their sockets.

“If you have to be on duty overnight, doesn’t it make sense to rest at the same time?” Agnes said.

“I am here to protect you, Princess! I can’t sleep while I’m on duty!” Bernhart said.

“Protect me from what?” Agnes pushed, “You know full well there’s no threat to me here.”

A conflicted tenseness fell over Bernhart’s face, his lips pursed and nose scrunched as he looked down.

“Also, don’t you find it improper?” he asked, “A peasant residing in the same house as a princess?”

“Improper to who?” Agnes replied, “I am royalty, Bernhart. If anyone defines the rules of what is proper here, it is me, you understand?”

Bernhart growled quietly to himself, his eyes squeezed shut in anxiousness.

“Go retrieve your clothes and bring them here,” the princess continued, “I do not want to be responsible for you falling sick from a lack of sleep.”

“M’lady I—”
“Go!”

The both of them had risen from their chairs in defiance of each other’s wills, though Bernhart had come to the conclusion that there was little use in sticking to his values if they weren’t even desired by his superior. Without another word, he complied with Agnes’s orders and left the pavilion, heading to his quarters to get the set of clothes he would wear the next day. He felt ashamed leaving the princess alone during his guard duty, but ultimately for as long as Dietrich was away, her wishes were what mattered most.

Walking with an extreme haste, Bernhart returned to the Guest Pavilion within twenty minutes, his clothes draped over his forearm. Just as she had been before he left, Agnes was comfortably reading in her chair without any apparent concern for her safety while being unattended.

“That was quick,” Agnes commented.

“I couldn’t bear leaving you unaccompanied for longer than necessary, so I only brought one set of clothes,” Bernhart explained.

“Whatever works,” the princess said with a sigh.

About an hour later, it had become dusk once more.

“Where do you sleep in this pavilion, Princess?” Bernhart asked.

“The second floor is a bedchamber,” Agnes said, “I forget how little you’ve seen of this place.”

“I would feel disrespectful walking around where I’m not permitted,” Bernhart replied before raising his eyebrows, “Unless I am permitted?”

“Follow me, I’ll show you,” the princess said. 

Agnes rose from the grand chair she sat in and headed to the back right corner of the room, where, obscured by a large bookshelf laid an ornate marble staircase, topped with gold plated railings on each side. After about five steps, the stairs came to a flat landing where they wrapped inward and turned to the opposite direction, leading to a bedroom just as large as the living space beneath it. Bernhart followed behind Agnes in amazement, being shocked enough by the hidden staircase before they had even reached the bedroom. He treaded with extreme lightness against the steps, wishing to be as delicate as possible with such an elegant display of wealth. 

Once they reached the top, Agnes perched her hand on the post at the tip of the railing and positioned her body sideways so as not to obstruct Bernhart’s view of the room ahead.

“Here it is,” she said.

Just like the room beneath, the bedchamber was fitted with floors, walls, and ceilings made of marble, accented by lines of golden trim that glistened against the light of the room’s burning fireplace. Amazingly, the pavilion managed to have a fireplace on two successive floors, each connected to the same chimney, allowing a great degree of warmth in each room no matter the temperature of the night.

The room was furnished with another round table surrounded by four chairs, though this setup was noticeably smaller than the one downstairs. On each side of the table was one of two massive beds, each bound by a decorative wood frame that held up a draping canopy of silk curtains. The beds alone were each the size of some peasants’ homes, with Bernhart particularly remembering his own childhood home in the castletown hardly being much bigger.

“So this is how royalty sleeps?” he said with his jaw agape.

“Typically yes,” Agnes laughed, “But today, this is how you’ll be sleeping, too.”

“Huh?” Bernhart craned his neck towards Agnes in shock.

“You can take my father’s bed on the left,” Agnes said, “The one on the right is for me.”

“I—to sleep in the King’s bed…is that not sacreligious?” Bernhart stammered.

“It’s only a bed, Bernhart,” the princess told him, “It would be wrong to make you sleep in a chair when there’s an open bed right here.”

Bernhart turned his attention to the King’s bed. It was a piece of furniture not meant to be even touched by people of his caliber, let alone slept in. For not one moment until now did he imagine he would ever find himself with an offer like this, so antithetical to everything he had been taught all his life, to respect the natural order of things. It was these natural orders that Agnes seemed to disregard entirely, though some of that surely had to come from a place of naivety, what with her sheltered life and all.

“If you insist,” Bernhart said with a pale face.

Agnes seemed to notice his hesitation to accept her offer, something that had become a common theme with his behavior around her.

“Bernhart,” she said, her face softening into something more sincere than her usual lightheartedness, “In the short time we’ve been acquainted, you have already become one of the closest friends I’ve had in all my lifetime. If anyone deserves my father’s bed, it’s you.”

Bernhart had little idea of how to respond to such a statement. Had he really earned the respect of the princess of Avaria with such ease? To the degree he had become one of her most treasured companions? To be fair, Agnes had charmed Bernhart quite quickly, too, but that was to be expected of a princess.

As he stared blankly at her, Agnes came even closer, placing her delicate hand on his limp right arm as she stood in front of him, looking up into his eyes from her shorter stature.

“Please, I insist,” she continued softly, “Go remove your layers and get some sleep.”

Bernhart, his petrifying amazement building on top of itself, simply gulped as he looked down at her with wide eyes and a sagging jaw.

“Very well, m’lady,” he finally said.

“There’s a closet beside your bed where you can change,” Agnes said as she backed away with a smile, “I have a closet of my own on my side of the room.”

Bernhart silently made his way to the closet she spoke of. Beyond its cedar door was a dark room, lit only by a couple of lamps hung from the walls. Despite this, it was still clear the room was quite large for a closet. Within were a series of heavy wooden chests. Bernhart stared at them with intrigue as he removed his outermost garments, stripping down to the light layer of linen that covered his body beneath. He had no business peering into the chests, though his curiosity had grown to be quite strong, and with all of the validation he had been receiving from Agnes that evening, his typical concern for what was proper slipped away for just a moment. On his knees, he laid his hands on the lid of the centermost chest and slowly lifted it open. Though it was dim, the room’s sparse lamplight was enough to illuminate the chest’s sole item within. Before Bernhart’s eyes was a folded robe made of fur and silk and colored in the kingdom’s signature colors of white and gold. It felt strange holding such an item in his hands, a robe that certainly had belonged to and been worn by none other than His Divine Majesty himself. How strange Bernhart’s life had become, he thought, that this was now something even in the realm of possibility. 

Amazed by the piece before him, Bernhart held the robe by its collar and lifted it out of the chest and in front of him, observing it in all its glory against the light. Suddenly, Agnes’s voice emerged from behind him.

“You’re taking an awful long time, Bernhart,” she said.

Before he had a chance to reply, the closet door opened behind him, the illumination of the burning fireplace filling the room and exposing him in the full light of his wrongdoing. Bernhart turned his head back to face Agnes, his arms still frozen in air as they held the robes before him.

“Oh, you found my father’s robes,” the princess said calmly, “You can wear it if you’re still cold.”

“Agnes! I would do no such thing, I swear!” Bernhart said defensively, dropping the robes back into the chest like he never held them at all.

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” she said, “Come on, bring it out here and have a seat on your bed.”

With Agnes walking back out into the main bedchamber, Bernhart turned back to the chest and hesitantly retrieved the robe he had so unlawfully fondled. From there, he rose from his knees and walked to the King’s bed, lowering himself down into it slowly as if it were going to bite him. He laid the robes down beside him on the bedsheets. Across the room from him was Agnes, sitting on the side of her own bed.

“You should put it on,” she said.

“But—how can I?” Bernhart replied, “Don’t you think your father would be furious?”

“That’s the thing, Bernhart,” Agnes said, her head slightly sinking closer to her chest, “I don’t know if my father will ever get the chance to wear that again.”

“Huh?”

“I can sense it, Bernhart, my father is dying.”

The princess’s voice weakened, and through the shadows of the room, Bernhart could make out a singular tear falling from her eye.

“He’s been sick for so long,” she said, “and whatever seems to be ailing him is bad enough he doesn’t want me to see him in his current state. I didn’t want to believe it but…as his only heir I have to be responsible and prepare for the worst. That’s the real reason I’ve been reading these past few days.”

Bernhart looked at the gold colored robes beside him. Had the King who last wore them really fallen so far? It was a tragic thought.

“I’m sorry,” Bernhart said, “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s fine if you don’t say anything at all,” Agnes quickly replied, “I’m just glad you’re here. I’ve lost almost everyone. Right now, your company is worth as much as the gesture of any king.”

“Oh, you know that can’t be true, Princess,” Bernhart said, “I’m no one at all.”

Agnes sighed and lifted her legs onto her bed, settling in and laying herself sideways with her head against her pillows. The bed’s open curtains half obscured her face, though her mouth was still visible behind them.

“Bernhart, you are absolutely someone,” she told him, “And before you go to bed, I want you to know…I don’t want anyone but you to wear those robes.”

Bernhart froze at her words, feeling like his heart had stopped entirely for just a brief moment. He again looked down to the King’s robes and, knowing it was what Agnes wanted, lifted it over his shoulders and enveloped himself within it as he settled down into the King’s bed. Though his mind was racing, the weight of the last few days caught up to him, and before long, he was asleep.

The next day, just before dawn, Bernhart was awoken by the call of a gruff voice.

“Bernhart, where are you?” the man called. His voice was distant, seeming to come from outside. 

The insulated nature of the bed he slept in left Bernhart disoriented as he tried to piece together what was happening.

“Bernhart!” the man called again.

Seeing the faint glow of the morning twilight through the bedroom’s windows, he realized the end of his shift had come, and Canagan had arrived to the Guest Pavilion.

The noise seemed to wake Agnes as well, as she rolled over to her side and rubbed her eyes.

“What’s going on?” she yawned.

“It’s Canagan, I have to go quickly,” Bernhart shot out of bed, quickly slipping the robes off his shoulders as he came downstairs and walked to the front doors, where Canagan stood on the other side.

“Canagan, the princess requested I stay inside tonight as she was having an upsetting dream,” he bluffed, “I’ll let her know I’m leaving and be on my way shortly.”

Truthfully, he had to return upstairs because it was where he had left his clothes. Without waiting to hear another word from Canagan, Bernhart pivoted back away from the door and headed up to the bedroom.

“I have to be leaving, m’lady,” Bernhart said as he reached the crest of the stairs, “I’ll dress myself and head out.”

Agnes had risen from her slumber, sitting on the edge of her bed as she rubbed her eyes. Bernhart didn’t have the time to speak with her, fearing Canagan would catch on to their close relationship had he stayed too long. Quickly, he shut the closet door behind him and put on his clothes from the day before, figuring it would take too long to put on the clean clothes he brought with him.

A minute later, as he stepped out of the closet and started for the stairs, he was stopped by the voice of Agnes calling from her bed.

“Bernhart, wait!” she said.

He paused in his tracks and turned around.

“Come here,” Agnes continued.

Confused, Bernhart slowly walked towards her, still a little dreary from his rude awakening. 

“What is it, Princess?” he asked as he stood before her.

Suddenly, Agnes rose to her feet, and without another word, elevated herself to her tiptoes and tilted her head up to meet Bernhart’s. With the slightest lean forward, her soft lips collided with his. A chilling electricity coursed through Bernhart’s veins as he looked down into the princess’s closed eyes, not understanding what it was he was feeling. Their kiss was incredibly brief, but endless all the same. As Agnes lowered herself back down to her heels, she looked up at Bernhart with a smile, an expression he returned to her with the limp gaping jaw of shock he had had upon his face quite often over the past day, only this time his pale ghostly face was replaced with one that was vibrantly red. He could feel the heat of blood rushing through his face with intensity, with a feeling of adrenaline he hadn’t felt since his earliest days in combat.

“Thank you, Bernhart,” the princess said.

“Heh, uh—yeah, of course!” Bernhart replied.

“Bernhart!” Canagan yelled from outside.

“You should go, I’ll see you tonight,” Agnes said.

“Yeah,” Bernhart said faintly.

With a nod of his head, he finally made his way down the stairs. Opening the cedar doors, he passed by Canagan, exchanging quiet scowls with him as he always did. With that, a new day had begun, and the one ahead would be far longer without the need to sleep through the morning.