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Gloria didn’t feel as though she had grown up in a particularly grand home. Yes, it was nice and of a comfortable size, but she had taken it all for granted. Then she and Quin needed to find somewhere to live quite quickly, because they wanted to get married as soon as possible after becoming engaged. Fransis had said they could remain at Domum Marinos as long as needed, but neither of them wished to trespass upon his kindness any longer than necessary. So, in the end, they had rented a furnished lakeside cottage they had both found adorable.
But as she unpacked, Gloria realized that “adorable” was a polite way of saying “small.” She had never realized how many books and decorative end tables she owned, for instance. The wardrobes that came with the place would never hold all of her clothes, and she had never really considered herself especially fashionable. Somehow though, they would make do until they could take some time to look around them and find something bigger. There was absolutely nowhere to put a baby in this “adorable” space, and they both agreed that was something they wanted to find space for at some point soon.
At least all this unpacking kept her from thinking about her father and what would come next. Yes, she was a wife now, but domestic duties were hardly going to occupy her every waking hour once she figured out where to put her books. She wanted to stay in the tourney world, and she just needed to figure out how.
Luckily, Harris Evans had come to visit today, and he always had ideas.
“What about your own quarterly?” he suggested. “Plenty of people know you and I were responsible for all the good content and would be happy to subscribe. And I have no desire to keep writing for your father.”
“I suppose so,” she answered, rearranging her Immani books on military drill for the third time. “What would we call it?”
“The Porcher Digest?”
Gloria let a smile spread across her face. Being reminded that she was now married to Quin made her happier than anything else in life. “It has a ring, but, well, what if it didn’t have my name, old or new? I want to make a full break from my father, so I can’t use Weekes. But I also don’t want people to think I’m trying to capitalize on the fact my new husband is the Grand Trahernian champ.”
“Do you have any ideas.”
“Well, what about The Modern Chivalry Journal? It says it’s new, but also serious.”
Harris took his flask from his pocket and tipped it quickly to his lips. “I suppose I could be convinced to write for a publication of that title.”
Gloria held out her hand, and he pressed the flask into it. “Then let’s do it.” She had a small drink to seal the deal.
After that, they talked about the best way to publicize the new journal and reach potential subscribers. Harris suggested she directly write all of her father’s subscribers she could remember, and she proposed that they take complimentary copies to some tourneys to gather interest. “And do you want to talk to any of your connections who rent horses and equipment and the like? Father always relied on subscriber fees, but what if we got advertisers?”
“Trainers. Sponsors looking for team members.” He waggled his eyebrows. “We could put your father out of business in a season.”
Somewhere along the way, Gloria forgot about her books and sat down to go over more ideas for the new journal. She even eventually found parchment and ink so she could start making lists of potential advertisers, as well as article ideas, people they would want to interview, and when they should launch the first issue. As always happened when she got excited when writing, she had ink on her fingertips, and based on the cool sensation there, the end of her nose. Which is how Betty found Gloria when she walked into the room with a curtsy.
“My lady, there are two young gentlemen here to see you.”
Gloria snorted and looked at Harris, utterly confused at what might be happening. “Young gentlemen? For me? Really, Betty? You aren’t pulling my leg.”
“No, my lady.” Betty smiled in return. “And to be more accurate, two young noblemen. They have come to inquire about paying you for your services.”
“My services?” She laughed out loud at this. “Do they think I’m some sort of whore? Obviously, more in the vein of an Immani courtesan than a dockside prostitute. But really! Services!”
“That is what they said, my lady.” Betty seemed to be having difficulty keeping a grin off her lips as well. “I think you should come speak with them. I’ve put them in the front parlor.”
Harris hoisted himself up. “I have to see this, too. And defend your honor if need be.”
Gloria snorted and the three of them headed off down the hall.
In the parlor, they were met with two young men, as Betty promised. They stood in the middle of the cramped room, facing away from her. The slimmer of the two boys had a sword out that was, frankly, far too nice for a boy of his age. The other boy, decidedly broader and older in bearing, if not years, was behind the slimmer boy, trying to help him with his sword grip. Gloria watched for a minute. The boy who was trying to help was not entirely wrong about what he was saying, but the younger one didn’t seem to understand his instructions.
“May I help you?” Gloria finally asked, striding into the room.
The boys turned, and she recognized the broader boy as Prince Edgar Sigor. Identifying the skinny boy took her a moment, but then she realized it was Jeffrey Sigor, Fransis’s younger brother. Betty had called them “young noblemen,” but Gloria still hadn’t expected a prince and the son of a duke to be practicing sword grips in her front parlor.
The boys bowed perfunctorily, but not because they were rude, more because they were excited, if Gloria was reading the situation correctly. What would they find exciting in her little cottage, though?
“Lady Porcher, I hope you might remember me. I’m Prince Edgar Sigor. And this is Lord Jeffrey Sigor. We hope you don’t mind us stopping by so soon after your wedding. We thought you might be on a honeymoon or something.”
The prince blushed at the mention of a honeymoon, and Gloria thought this whole situation might be the most absurd she had ever been a part of. “Like you, your royal highness, my husband and I have traveled almost the entire year, so we felt no need for a trip. And also,” she nodded to Lord Jeffrey, “my husband has just taken up a position with Duke Egbert, and he wished to start as soon as possible.”
“Yes, of course. Yes, so....” The prince trailed off, and she wondered if it would be best to try to guess what he wished or perhaps offer them a seat and a glass of wine. She had spent her fair share of time around adolescent nobility as her father’s assistant, and they could be prickly about their honor, but also impossibly awkward.
“I was led to believe you wished to ask of me some service, your royal highness” she finally offered. “If you or Lord Jeffrey could make the request, I’m sure I would be quite happy to assist you.”
“Well, yes, we are very much hoping you can assist us,” said Prince Edgar. “In becoming better knights. I watched all the tourney and Jeffrey saw a great deal, and well, you seem to know what you’re doing better than any of the other trainers or sponsors there, so we thought you might be willing to train us.”
Gloria sagged against one of her endless array of end tables. “Your royal highness, if I may say so, you are a knight and squire to a duke. Are not his knights training you?”
The prince blushed and stared at his feet. “If Sir Quintilian had been available for training, that might have been one thing, but my uncle has him on other duties. And yes, there are other knights who have been helping us. But you, Lady Porcher, you trained the best knight in the kingdom! So if you would be willing, we’d like to train with you.”
“I don’t think I was getting any better with your father’s lessons,” Lord Jeffrey mumbled. “If you’ll pardon me for saying so. I like my chances with you much better.”
“As you should,” whispered Harris behind her.
Gloria turned to look at her old friend. She was pretty sure he could read her face, which she thought must be screaming, “Am I really going to do this?” He smirked and nodded his head. Finster’s balls, she was going to do this.
“Well, gentlemen,” she said, pivoting back to look at her guests—her students— “If you are willing to work hard, I am more than pleased to accept you for training.”
“I already told my father we were coming here,” Lord Jeffrey said. “And he’s happy to pay you the same rate for lessons as he paid your father. And he will be paying the same for Edgar, too.”
As his bookkeeper, Gloria knew precisely how much her father charged for lessons. Two students this prominent would lead to more students, and if the journal took off, well, small, rented cottages might soon be a thing of the past. And to think earlier that day she had been worried she wouldn’t have enough to keep herself busy.
“Very well,” she said. “Your first lesson is to forget everything my father ever taught you. Aggression does not win tourneys. Hard work and using your head does. Shall we go out into the backyard and start with sword work, right now?”