Tristan watched the door to his quarters shut behind the knights. He collapsed in a nearby chair. A loud breath exhaled from him. His eyes landed in the dying fire. Where the hell did Tina disappeared to? He thought she would still be here, laying on top of his bed with her back expose to the air, in the process of healing. He brought up a hand and rubbed his face. He needed to find her before Genesis did.

  He was not expecting Genesis to confront him about Tina being in Camelot. It should have not came a surprise like it did. Reno had been the one who escorted Tina to the Tower and straight to his quarters. Of course, Reno would inform Genesis about Tina being here. He did not know Genesis had been open with his missing sisters with a few of his men. The violent knight knew the red head general was with the other two generals so they probably knew of the missing sisters.

  He shook his head, trying to clear it. He need to figure out where Tina had disappeared to and need to do it soon before she got into major trouble or was discovered, her belongings searched and someone informed Genesis about her whereabouts.

  Tristan knew she didn’t want to meet anyone from the White Hall Family, just yet. He had noticed in the past few days she had skirted around the issue, how her eyes darkened with an emotion he couldn’t read, and she pushed the issue away, often trying to change the subject.

  He sighed. He had to leave his quarters to find her, soon. He glanced around the room. Maybe she had left some clue to her where abouts. He started to go through his room, looking for a clue.

  It didn’t take him long to find something. He held up the jacket Tina had wrapped around her waist the other night when she got too warm and used the argument that she may have to put it on when she got cold when he had suggested to put it in her bag. He sighed. He really hoped Reno or the others didn’t see it. “So, what was that about?” Gawain asked. Tristan jumped slightly. He forgotten his brothers in arms were still in the room.

  “I think the General has found out that Valentina is in Camelot,” Lancelot commented.

  “Yeah,” Tristan said, “Reno had been the one to escort her to the Tower.” Lancelot nodded, remembering that details as well. “He might have told Genesis about her.”

  “If that is true,” Gawain said, “Where did she leave? We would have seen her leave if she went through the common room…” he trailed off as his eyes darted over to the balcony.

  Tristan paled as he thought about her leaving through the balcony. He lived on the 17th floor of the tower. There was no way possible she had jumped from his balcony to the ground. He hurried over to the balcony and peered over the railing. He spotted Genesis walking away with the two generals and his second in command in toe. He peered below, hoping he didn’t have to see Tina in the brushes with a broken leg, but he didn’t see her. He frowned. He sensed Gawain and Lancelot come up beside him.

  “Apparently, she is alright if she did jump,” Lancelot mused, “But that doesn’t explain her current location.”

  Gawain made a noise of agreement, “Plus, it won’t help with the amount of people in the castle right now, she could blend in with the various newcomers.”

  “A regular needle in the haystack,” Tristan commented with an eye roll.

  Tina slowly made her way down through the various hallways. She did not know how long she had been roaming through the halls, looking for an empty room or a room that had a woman who appeared to be the same size as her. She had the brilliant idea that she would barrow a dress from high member of the local court. Speaking of that, Tina did managed to find a small out craping where she was able to peer down into a throne room. She could not see very well, but she did watch the procession of the Lord and Ladies of the Court walk down a red carpet to a woman who sat in a high back chair with a beautiful crown encircling her head.

  Tina did not stay long to watch more of the procession, but it did satisfy a curious she had been having about the castle. The location of the Throne Room and how the ruler looked like. Maybe in way Tina could avoid getting stuck in a conversation with the Queen if she ran into her. She shook her head.

  She continued her way down a long hall. It appeared belong to high ranked member of the court. There were a number long tapestries covering the wall at different parts of the hallway. From where Tina stood in the archway, she noticed the tapestries hung on either side of oaken doors. Tina glanced down at the rug that ran the length of the hallway. It was White as fresh fallen snow.

  Who would be a white rug on the floor? More importantly, why? Why use a white rug when the feet were the direst part of a person’s body?

  Tina stepped onto the rug, hoping she would not leave footsteps anywhere on the brilliant white rug. She walked forward, coming to a stop by the first door. She glanced at the tapestries on either side of the door.

  The main background color was a dark pink color. It reminded her of the dark colored sakuras that fell during the spring time in Japan. She smiled, thinking back to the first time she saw the sakura falling from the trees on her Aunt Nami’s temple lands. In the center of the tapestry, a large circle sat there with a brown arm flexed, a hand closed into a fist. She redirected her gaze to the door. The door had the circle with the colors on in the center, but it also had a name. Her eyes widened as she read it.

  Armstrong.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She shook her head. That had to be a coincidence. There were tons of families with the last name of Armstrong. There was no way it could be referring to her grandmother. She pushed it to the back of her mind and moved on.

  The next door she came across was directly across from the Armstrong Room. The door was framed by a pair of matching tapestries, but the background color was bright green as grass on a bright summer day. In the middle of the tapestries, a flower stood out with heart shaped petals in different colors. One petal was a dark royal blue. Sitting next to the Dark Royal Blue on the right, the heart shaped petal started as a dark blue lightened to a light blue along the edges. Continuing in a circle, the next heart shaped petal was white as fresh fallen snow. Tina’s eyes drifted to the next petal and they landed on the petal that had a line of dark purple cutting through a white background. The fifth petal was a dark purple. The last heart shaped petal had shades of pink, starting from the middle as white and darkened to dark shade of pink, a few shades lighter then red, completing the circle. Another difference that Tina noticed in the tapestry, there was other colored flowers along the edge trimming of it. She looked at the door, seeing the name craved into the wood.

  Morning Glory.

  Tina frowned. She glanced at the flowers. Maybe the name on the door was referring to the flowers. A loud noise rang out from the other end of the hallway. Tina’s heart jumped in her chest. She twisted to the side, glancing up where the noise came from. She heard voices drifting up the hallway, but she couldn’t make out what was being said. She turned, trying to find a good hiding area before she reached out for the Armstrong door. She placed her hand on the door knob and twisted it. It swung inward.

  Tina stepped inside as fast as she could before she slowly shut the door behind her. She didn’t dare to stop to admire the room as her eyes roamed over the room, seeing three doors. She chose a door at random and hurried over it. She pulled it opened and saw it was empty. She entered it and shut the door behind her, this time locking the door. She hoped she entered a room already occupied and the owner was returning. She closed her eyes and stretched her spiritual sense out toward the outer room and the hallway, waiting for the speakers to pass. One of them was a male fighter, judging how strong his spirit energy was.

  It was not long until they passed. Tina relaxed, her shoulders slumped, as she opened her eyes. She glanced around the room. It was a large bedroom with the same sakura design as the tapestries outside of these quarters. Maybe these rooms belonged to a member of the Armstrong family, she mused as she roamed through the room until she reached a separate door. She pulled it opened and saw it was a closet. A single window illuminated the space and Tina saw it was stocked with dresses of all kinds. Her jaw dropped as her eyes roamed over the various dresses of different colors and styles. It was simply amazing. She glanced behind her as a smile crossed her lips. She might have a good disguise. She just have to find a safe place to store her bag until she was ready to leave this Castle.

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  Morgana strolled through the halls, heading to the coolest part of the dungeon. She spotted various kitchen workers walking up and down the hall. She knew they also used the coolest part of the dungeon as a place to store meats and foods they could make ahead of time. She didn’t doubt that the Head Cook Sanji was taking full advantage of its use.

  She remembered in the early days of his Master and him arriving in Camelot, they had complain on a daily basis about not having a chilly place to store foods they could make ahead of time and length the time on how long the food was good for. It was young Arthur who solved that problem and found the forgotten cellars at the back of the kitchen.

  Back then, the teenage prince could roam through the ancient pathways of the castle and told his family during the family dinners what he was able to find. Morgana and Merlin had been surprised when Arthur had dragged out a tapestry of a battle that later known to be the Battle of the Cursed.

  They had forgotten about that tapestry existing. Morgana had personally thought it had burnt during one of the castle’s fires throughout the years. It took a while for the tapestry to be deeply cleaned but when it was cleaned, it looked brand now, like it was waved just the day before. Clarine later had apologize for not believing the magi when they had claimed to be the same magi who lived during those times.

  Shaking her head to clear those thoughts from it, Morgana shivered, slightly as she entered the deepest part of the dungeon. she immediately felt the temperature drop. It reminded her of late autumn air, mixing with the early signs of winter. She held her shawl tightly around her shoulders. She hoped that the Undertaker’s rooms were a bit warmer then the chilly temperature. There was a good chance it wouldn’t be. If the rooms were too warm, Morgana had learned from past experienced, that the bodies would start to rot and smell, attracting rodents of all kinds to it.

  Morgana heard the accent of Sanji’s voice bouncing off the stone walls as she walked past the door where the cold food was kept, “This is why we place these types of food down here. It is my duty to the castle to make sure no body get ills from rotten food.”

  She glanced into the dungeon room known as the Cold Box to see Sanji’s back toward her and another kitchen worker stood in front of the Head Cook, looking ashamed.

  “However, this,” Sanji held something in his hand, “does not explained why we have an entire crate of strawberries missing or the box of corn vanish.”

  Morgana frowned, but she didn’t stop. She knew Sanji would figure it out. He was trained by one of the best Cooks that Camelot had in a very long time and he would get to the bottom of it. She moved on. She knew just around the bend, the Undertaker had his work room. She turned the corner and saw light dancing on the far wall. She let out a relieved sigh. The Undertaker had the fire going. She smiled. She will be warm soon. Morgana hurried to to the opened door and spotted the Undertaker standing a table with the body of the King in front of him.

  The Undertaker was an older gentleman, named Seth. He had been working as the castle Undertaker for nearly his entire life. He had taken over the position when his father had died, almost three quarters of a century ago.

  Morgana entered the room and immediately gagged at the scent filling the room. This was not the first time she had witness this Undertaker throughout the years working on the preservation process since magic began to be frowned upon. She admitted the smell of the room never got any better. Seth looked up from his work and grinned, “Ah, Lady Morgana, how are you been doing, sweetheart?”

  “Been better,” Morgana replied. She covered her nose with the shawl, hopping it would help with the awful smell. It wouldn’t. “How have you been doing, Seth?”

  “Hanging in there,” Seth admitted, “My son should have been in here, helping, but he got a message saying the north section of town needed an extra pair of hands. So, I gave him permission to go.” Morgana nodded. She was aware of a series of deaths going on in the North Section of town. According to the rumor mill on the streets, it was something to deal with gangs or similar to that. The local city guard were looking into it, but they hinted they might need some extra hands from the castle depending on what they found through their investigation. “Since,” Seth went on, “I knew I would have a couple extra pairs of hands with this important project.”

  He pointed to Queens Clarine and Vivien. Clarine approached the table and set down armful of rolled cloth that was cut up into long strips before she picked up the king’s ankle and started to wrap the cloth around the foot, going up the ankle. She continued until she ran out of a ball before she picked up another. Vivien sat over in a chair by the fire, rolling up the strips of clothe into large balls. Morgana walked over to Vivien and grabbed a ball she just finished. She set down her shawl then strolled over to the table.

  Morgana let out a sigh, thinking. She knew it was a tradition for the women to take care of the body of a deceased loved one. Many cultures did it. Morgana did it for her father and brother when they both passed away. She kept doing it as the representative of the First King of Camelot. There were times where the King didn’t have any female members of the family close by to do the ancient rites. She did it in their place, especially in times of war. The process had changed over the many years. There have been others from different cultures that helped change the process. Nearly a hundred years ago, Camelot had a queen who came from the sun baked sands of a Southern Kingdom. She had brought with her apart of her bridal package, a number of skilled people in many different trades. One of the skilled people was her people’s Undertaker. Morgana always did wonder why the first Undertaker wore the mask of a jackel. When she had asked, it was honor their god of the dead. She shook her head, getting riding of the memories.

  “Where do you want me to start,” Morgana asked. Her eyes darted between Clarine and Seth. Clarine’s eyes were puffed and red-rimmed, however, they didn’t stray from their task as she didn’t answer. Morgana frowned. There was a glint of something, an emotion that the she-mage couldn’t read in the other woman’s eyes. Seth was busy, stitching up the Y cut on Uther’s chest, but he paused. He glanced up over at Clarine for a moment.

  “Start here, at his fingers, then work your way up his arm,” Seth instructed, pointing at Uther’s splayed fingers.

  Morgana nodded. She grabbed the edge of the rolled stripped cloth and grabbed one of the splayed fingers. She took a breath to steady herself. This was the first time she was attempting to help at the preservation of a body. Usually, when she could do cast the magic, a magic spell would do the trick for a few days, before fading away and the body would start to do the natural process.

  “DON’T!” Clarine screamed at the top of her lungs. Morgana jumped. Her heart skipped a beat and jumped into her throat. Her head jerked up in surprise. Her eyes widened. She stared at the other woman. “Don’t you dare touch him, mage!” Clarine glared daggers at Morgana. “You are not a relative of his!” the enraged woman stepped around the table and planted a hand into Morgana’s mid-section before she pushed the she-mage aside.

  Morgana stumbled backwards. Her heel stepped on the hem of her dress. She gasped. A ripping sound echoed in the Undertaker rooms. Her feet slipped out of under her. The she-mage fell. She stretched out her right hand. She landed on her rear with a grunt of pain, bouncing slightly, as her hand slapped against the stone floor. A pain went through her wrist. She looked up at Clarine as one of the former High Queen approached.

  “You have no right to be here,” Clarine stood over Morgana. Her eyes blazed with such heat that Morgana could have sworn that Clarine was a mage, herself, specializing in fire magic.

  “Clarine!” Vivien snapped, standing up from her chair by the roaring fire.

  “You and your lover,” Clarine spat the words, “Allowed my precious son to die. No one in this kingdom would refuse to treat their king. Why should you and your lover be any different?” The queen panted. Her shoulders heaved. She went on, “Arthur should banish you and that good for nothing battle mage away from this castle. I hope he does when he becomes King.”

  Morgana climbed to her feet and shook out her skirt. She opened her mouth to reply, to say something in her and Merlin’s defense, but Clarine continued, “Banishment is too good for you! He should order your deaths.”

  Morgana blinked. This was not the first time she had heard such talk, but to hear it coming from Clarine…there was a stab of pain that went through Morgana’s chest. The she-mage hardened her expression as she listened to Clarine’s words, “I will talk Arthur into agreeing to it.”

  “Quite,” Vivien roared.

  Morgana’s eyes darted between the two queens, waiting. Vivien walked over, her back straight, her shoulders back, and gave Clarine a level stare before she spoke, “You know the history of this Kingdom as well as I do.” Vivien slipped between Morgana and Clarine. “You damn well know Merlin and Morgana, if they had the power to do it, they would have cured our Uther. The person you should be blaming is the Death Mage, Rowena. She was the one who cast the curse up on the First King Arthur and the curse didn’t break upon his death. You are aware of the legend, as well, with the prophecy written by Morgana, the Princess of the United Kingdoms of Camelot, first of her name, Of House Pendragon, and the last living Pendragon in this land.” Vivien took a breath, before she recited the same prophecy Morgana gave on the Eve of the Battle of the Cursed.

  Clarine’s face twisted into a dark emotion and argued, “I have no doubt she is in league with the Dark Mage herself.” She pointed at Morgana.

  The She-mage resisted the urge to roll her eyes before she spoke up, “If I may be excused, I have other things I need to go attend to.”

  “Get out of here,” Clarine yelled, “I don’t want to see you, ever again.”

  Vivien turned to Morgana, and calmly said, “Go on, Morgana. I will handle Clarine.”

  Morgana nodded and gather her shawl before she left the Undertaker room. She wrapped the crochet item around her shoulders, ignoring the twinge of pain from her right wrist. She saw the kitchen staff peering around the corner from the Cold Box. Head Cook Sanji was standing in the back, staring at her before he barked out, “Get back to work! We still have to get a mourning meal ready for tonight as well as tackle the meals for the next couple days. Get back to work, now.”

  The kitchen staff scattered like rats. Soon, it was just Sanji standing at the end of the hallway. He held a hand to the she-mage before she past him. She glanced up at the black haired man, silently questioning what he wanted. Sanji spoke, “Later tonight, I will send something to cheer you up, my lady.”

  A flash of gratitude went through her. The Cook was one of a kind. She nodded in understanding before she moved on.

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