Adhemar's POV ***

 

Count Adhemar was in the tavern where he had lodged for the duration of the night. And though the world outside be tired, dark and asleep, he allowed the candles to burn while he pranced up and down the room.

 

There was a knock on the stout wood of the door and Count Adhemar hurried to fetch it.

 

“Germaine,” he said, sighing. “That took you long enough. What have you got?”

 

“A back sore from riding the whole year, terrible fatigue and information about the Knight, Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein.”

 

A black scowl covered Count Adhemar’s face. “If you do not tell me what I want to know, I will put you out of your misery with the blade of my knife.”

 

That seemed to settle the matter, and whatever fatigue Germaine felt flew out the window. “I visited the noble families Sir Ulrich claims to have descended from, and he is nonexistent to them as well. No one knows him, or has ever heard of him.”

 

“Are you certain of this?” asked Count Adhemar. With feverish excitement glowing in his eyes.

 

“As certain as death is to every man, my lord,” replied Germaine. “If you want, I can continue the investigation. It might happen that Sir Ulrich is a prince, at least, that would explain where he got the courage to tilt against prince Edward from.”

 

Count Adhemar shook his head. “Ulrich is no prince,” he said. “Have you not seen the way the fellow walks? Have you not heard the way he talks? Have you not seen his nonexistent technique when he tilts? No, your suggestion is beyond moronic.”

 

“My count,” said Germaine, “What if to not have a technique is the technique?”

 

“Well,” said Count Adhemar, throwing his chin up. “You saw him tilt today. Did you not? What do you think of him?”

 

"His technique is nonexistent, but he fights like a warrior; I see no weakness about his game,” Germaine remarked.

 

“Are you done praising my enemy?” asked Count Adhemar. “If so, then get out of here, the sight of you disgusts me.”

 

"My Count, if I may be so bold-" muttered Germaine.

 

Count Adhemar quickly retorted with fury. "You truly are bold to remain when I have dismissed you. Go on then..."

 

Germaine paused and knew a slap would be on his way. He gulped down and asked. "Why do you dismiss the possibility Sir Ulrich might be a prince in disguise like the new King of Borish once did?"

 

The look of displeasure was evident on Count Adhemar's deadly stare. "Because you imbecile, even that foolish king had to constantly hide his face to not be recognized by the nobles. Think about it, lowly peasants might not know what their lord looks like and perhaps some nobles might not know distant nobles. However, when it comes to royalty they are the most recognizable figures by the majority of the nobles regardless of what kingdom or nation they belong to. It would be one thing if a few nobles don't recognize him but Ulrich has been traveling from country to country participating in every single joust available. Do you truly believe not a single noble would recognize him were he royalty. Not to mention, I nor any other noble has the time to participate in every joust because we are too busy governing our land. Do you truly believe someone of a higher standing like a King or a prince who have to run an entire kingdom have that kind of time? How stupid could you possibly be?"

 

Germaine realized his mistake but before he could dread what was coming he received a slap so hard he fell to the floor like a log struck by lightening.

 

"Now get out!"

 

Germaine quickly got up holding his face taking a half bow almost tumbling and left.

 

“Fool,” said Count Adhemar, coldly. “I should write Lord Grove a letter, see if I can shatter Ulrich mentally.”

 

But just as he sat to begin writing, the question popped in his head again; where was Ulrich from? Who was he really?

 

Either way, Count Adhemar knew he could use the truth to his advantage, all he needed to do was gather evidence, and use it when the time was right.

 

He stood up and stormed out of his room to the stables where he found Germaine snoring on a stack of hay.

 

“You lazy slot,” Count Adhemar growled. “All you did was sit on the horse while they carried you around. Rise, I have a task for you.”

 

A sleepy eyed Germaine rose, stretching and yawning all at once.

 

“I want you to hover around that fool, Ulrich’s camp, listen to what name his varlets call him and other information that might prove important for us. Report to me as soon as you have something.”

 

“Yes, my count,” said Germaine, making to lie back on the stack of hay.

 

“And just what do you think you are doing, Germaine,” said Count Adhemar, coldly.

 

“Sleep my count,” replied Germaine, “I’ve not one night of decent sleep since I began investigating Sir Ulrich.”

 

“And you shall not have one until he is done over,” Count Adhemar snarled. “Be out now, Germaine. People tend to talk too much at night, find out what there is to know about them now.”

 

Count Adhemar returned to his room shortly, although, not before he was certain Germaine had gone out for the task he set for him.

 

"He's become rather too daring after being away for so long. I shall have to reeducate him," Count Adhemar groaned.

 

“Now, for one last strategy, let us have lord Grove move the wedding closer. See if the news of losing his precious woman will not ruin what momentum he’s managed to build.”

 

And so, Count Adhemar began scribbling with zeal and passion.