To the ramparts, where Vaughn has made his base.

The fastest way to the ramparts is through the barracks, which, compared to the rest of the party-planning-addled castle, are relatively quiet. Two guards at the entrance mutter respectful acknowledgements as you pass them into the main offices, where a knight has gathered a handful of squires. He’s giving them quiet instructions for the coming evening. When the squires see you, their eyes widen, the knight turns, and all give you small, nervous bows -- save the knight -- who, knowing you more personally, gives you a smiling wave. You return it, and find your way to the spiraling stairs at the back of the room. They guide you up a three-storey tower and exit you onto the northern ramparts.

The summer breeze hits harder up here, away from the protection of walls and wood and stone. Flying tall from a pole mounted to a nearby parapet, your family’s proud emerald flag snaps in the gale. A handful of guards in your territory’s regalia patrols the walkway, acknowledging you as they pass. They make a wide berth around a group huddled close at the base of the northeastern tower across the way. As you approach, you observe that they wear the gold and crimson emblem of the Kingdom’s apex royal family, from which your apparent suitor, Vaughn, hails.

You get within ten feet of one of the three guards, and she draws a halberd. The other two respond in kind, turning toward you. You start a little, confused and a little affronted at being threatened on your own land, but before you can draw your weapon or demand them to stand down, the man your attackers are guarding speaks.

“Let Her pass.” His voice is strong, gravelly with middle age, and travels well even facing away from you.

The three honorguards halt their advance at once. They draw their weapons back, utterly in sync, and part for you to proceed. The man, now fully visible, stands facing out over the woods surrounding your castle, gloved hands held primly behind his back. He stands tall -- straighter than an arrow. The only things about him that move are the gold cape and black hair, graying certainly at the roots. Each twitch and flutter slightly in the breeze.

You walk at last and stop beside him, catching a glimpse of his rugged face, his full beard, the narrow watchfulness in his eyes.

“I’ve researched you and your family at length, Samantha,” he says, not turning to face you. “You have impressive lands, but a more impressive reputation. One that hungers, I should think, for more than woods at the edge of the world.” His grey eyes slide from the expanse of trees onto you. They burn you for a response.

You consider. Vaughn is to be the next King of the Kingdom of Demys. Your Sovereign Lord. Your territory is but a small piece of his governance. He will not be giving that up to move in to your lands. Choosing him as your partner would mean, inevitably, leaving your land to a cousin after all, and becoming the next {if male = true} Partnered King {elseif female = true} Queen {endif} of Demys…