He was the middle son of the Duke’s four boys, the eldest being Edward, his father’s favorite. The youngest two, Henry and Paul , were twins. They were eight years younger than Abel and still naive and rowdy, always looking for a fight. Edward was away on important business. So important his father failed to let anyone else know anything of it. So, his father in his infinite wisdom, decided he would need to go. Although he didn’t tell him so himself, he sent an errand boy to deliver the order. Abel wished his father would for once take the time to sit him down in his study and speak with him in private, like men, but that day never came. If he had, maybe Abel could have reasoned with him, told him the settlement was peaceful and no threat. They’d likely be gone soon anyway. Not that his father, The Duke of Windmire, the third highest ranking of the nine realms would dare listen to his bumbling middle child. The band of gypsy mages that settled on the outskirts of Windmire’s forest were a nuisance to his father. He never trusted the gypsies. “No trustworthy, innocent people pack up everything and move around so much. Only people with something to hide do that,” he once said. But Abel knew they weren’t the lying scoundrels his father made them put to be. He visited their camp not so long ago. It was mostly by accident. He was curious and wanted to see what they were up to, but he never meant for them to see him spying on them. He thought his father might finally be proud of him if he’d come back with information on the camp. But he was spotted by a young, black haired woman who snuck up on him so softly, he’d swear her feet never touched the ground. Abel was stunned and froze, ready to be done in by a dagger. He was told stories of the gypsy’s ruthlessness as a child. But, the girl smiled and her face was so soft and warm, he was immediately calmed. She asked if he wanted to come sit by the fire and have a warm drink. Abel was hesitant, it could be a trap, especially if they knew who his father was. But Abel couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace when looking at the woman’s face. Her eyes were light green, large and peering at him with innocence. She had long, black hair and tanned skin. He’d never seen anyone like her. So he went and sat by the fire round the band of gypsies and drank a cup of something that tasted like ginger root. Everyone seemed curious and some stared, but they were polite enough. They were nothing like he was told in the tales he heard growing up. He visited their camp several more times and grew to love the raven haired girl they called Lianna. Now his father had ordered him to go to their camp on horseback wearing the family crest and deliver a message. One that demanded they pay taxes to the realm as citizens or to leave Windmire. The decree also requested they come to court to hold council with the Duke himself, which Abel knew was a lie. They’d be arrested and their camp ransacked for anything of value. Abel knew there’s were only a few ways this would end, they could pay a hefty fine and leave, which Gypsies were never wont to do or they would be captured and imprisoned for intruding on claimed land. His father wouldn’t let them pack up and leave without paying any dues. So, as he packed up his horse and made his way to the camp, he folded his own letter and tucked it safely into his pocket. His letter warned them of what he knew and to leave immediately. It directed towards a place deep in the forest down in a small valley where he used to go when he was young. He never told his father or even hi is brothers about the place. It had always been his secret. Now it was one that he would share with the gypsies so he could save the only girl he’s ever loved. He most likely would never see her again, but if that meant that she would be spared whatever his father and the realm had in mind, then so be it.