Day 71, 06:20 AM

“One of the greatest problems of our time is that many are schooled but few are educated.”

― Thomas More

My gut roils from the moment I wake up. Manny’s in the toilet, morning sickness striking with a vengeance, but it failed to catch her by surprise like yesterday. As for my nausea, there are many factors behind it. The assassin and his next plot feel like a demon sitting on my shoulder, watching my every move, waiting for a slip to kill Manny.

Then there’s the wedding planning meeting scheduled in some two-three hours, Manny’s pregnancy, all the implications of having a baby in this turbulent moment, as well as all the alliances it will cost us. Finally, my nightmares of this world’s unknown horrors have completely suppressed the king, the whole rebellion, and the imminent conflict with count Arangel.

As my mind clears, phantom threats disappear, real ones taking their place, but my mind also finds the good, which was somehow missing in my nightmares.

I’ll become a father again in several months, I’ll marry the woman I love in four weeks, we have found a huge cache of money, weapons, and armor, and if we win, we will soon rule a country.

Come to think of it, what is bad is good and what is good is bad. Law of life, I guess.

“I’ll go ahead and wash myself,” I say, and Manny gives me a miserable moan of response.

“I love you too,” Blunt says, and Manny doesn’t reply.

I can’t tell whether it was a good or a bad thing to say. The fact she didn’t curse or threaten me makes it OK, ish? Well, at least it lets me do my stretches with one less problem to worry about.

Three hours later, a small, private council is in session. The first order of business is a practical matter, deciding how to use the resources Manny and I had discovered yesterday. Oola has the privilege to attend this one, but a lot of vaguely familiar faces, which I saw yesterday for the second or third time, aren’t invited.

“Vatgord is in contact with several large mercenary companies,” Vatten says, glaring at the world in general with his usual scowl. “I personally never trusted them with the defense of my lands, and I would advise against hiring mercenaries as helpers for domestic matters. Their hearts are fickle, they love money, and may turn on you at any time. However, I remain on good terms with their leaders, in case I ever need someone to distract my enemies by raiding their camps and fortifications while I am under attack.”

The count stops talking and his innately frustrated gaze drifts around the table. It lingers on me, and he gives me an approving harrumph, probably because of my smile.

I may not like the man, but I must admit, I approve of his plan and methods. They are effective if nothing else.

“I would never field them on the battlefield we are on, or on the one the king is on,” he clarifies for those who did not understand his implied meaning. “They will betray us for the right price, but robbing supply trains, routing support armies made of fresh recruits, and slaughtering camp followers is the sort of work they excel at.”

The man shifts in the chair, and his cold, biting gaze focuses on me before shifting back to Manny.

“I would have gone to handle this matter personally, but with the royal wedding happening on such short notice and especially with my role in it, I cannot leave Eaglegord. If you don’t mind, I will send a trusted lieutenant to act as a messenger.”

Right. His role. The goatee villain I met yesterday has a major part to play in our wedding. I feel like I’m starring in a fifties flick.

“Thank you,” Manny accepts his offer with a smile, a smile which doesn’t bother me at all. “We also need to plan the wedding, whom we invite, the security…”

Manny’s list is long. Most loyalists will arrive for the event even without an invitation, and the list of nobles we can invite and expect to arrive in a mere month is short. I originally thought it was silly and a waste of everyone’s time to discuss our wedding like this, but even Vatten still has his serious frown, listening and making suggestions, along with everyone else.

The only one silent is me. Kind of like the last time I got married. Identical, in fact. I cared little back then, and I care even less now, as long as the band and the food are decent. I have no friends or family to invite, no attachments. The entire affair is for Manny’s benefit, and I leave the planning to her.

I’m mostly checking the windows, and wondering when and how the assassin will strike, when Oola mentions the local house of song. The topic draws my attention, since it’s one of the two things that interest me.

“They have performed for the late duke’s wedding, and his father’s and grandfather’s. It’s a tradition.” Oola concludes, and Vatten tugs at his beard.

“They are apolitical, but I do not believe they would oppose the king in such an open fashion. Performing for the duchess’s wedding in the middle of her rebellion to depose the king is a political statement.”

“I can handle that,” Blunt says, using my lack of attention, and everyone looks at me, the dude who kept silent until now.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

How can I handle that? I ask myself, and an answer is there, already prepared by my subconscious and approved by Blunt.

Phill’s and Vatten’s looks seem the most skeptical, and other than Manny, nobody has much faith in my ability to do things other than hit stuff.

I struggle not to reveal weakness and clear my throat. “We can have a chat with them later today.”

Manny nods, and we move on. If I was absent before, I’m now vacationing in a completely different world, avoiding fictional dangers and enemies out to get Manny.

The meeting ends around noon, and we offer to share lunch. Oola, Gomer, Phill, and Dorigund excuse themselves, Manny insists only once, with the four are obviously uncomfortable because of the difference in status, so she dismisses them, but Vatten stays.

He gives me a very familiar look of a father whose daughter has brought a male friend home. We didn’t have time for nonsense yesterday, but Vatten’s been hostile the whole morning.

He keeps biting his lip until the servants leave us alone with the soup, and finally, he can’t take it any longer.

“You are making a mistake. Your timing is horrible, and why him of all people? You could have married a prince—”

“I am with child.” Manny shuts him up with a brick to the face, and Vatten certainly takes her words like a physical punch, eyes gaping, his mouth open wide. “And even if he was not the bravest, smartest, and strongest man I have ever met or even heard of, which prince would marry me? A third or fourth one? A greedy one, who would see me die at childbirth after he has secured his kingdom? Why would I ever do that to myself or to my people? Have I not suffered enough?”

She takes a deep breath and exhales while Vatten stares into space, still shocked.

“I understand you have my best interests at heart, uncle Vat. Especially since you will be the one giving me away. But there is hardly any giving in this wedding. Aang has won me in every sense of the word, and our ceremony is a mere formality for the sake of our citizens and our child.”

Vatten swallows, meanwhile I’m eating my soup, hiding a victorious grin behind a silver spoon.

“You are pregnant?” Vatten croaks, and I can tell he isn’t doubting Manny, rather asking a host of questions while delivering admonishments and accusations. He packed a surprising amount of context into three simple words.

“I took ample precautions, but it still happened.” Manny remains calm, her voice even, without a hint of apology. “I can only take it as a sign from the Lord of Light.”

“Sign from the Lord of Light?” Vatten spits out the words in my stead. I seriously doubt any god had a hand in what is happening between Manny and me, or that our relationship is some kind of divine providence.

I enjoy the awkward quiet, which persists until the end of the meal.

“My Noble Lady, the house of song refused to perform for your wedding.” Oola enters the room as servants are clearing the dirty dishes.

I said I’d do it, and yet you still sent someone else?

I’m not really angry, maybe slightly irked. On the other hand, if they had agreed, Oola would have saved me an hour or two, plus a public appearance and a potential assassination attempt.

“We can go now,” I say, and Manny nods.

I wanted to go incognito, but Manny would have none of it, so I’m stuck wearing a monkey suit, walking next to a stunning duchess wearing her regal emerald-green, surrounded by a pack of guards, who are there more as a statement than protection.

People still cheer, but the tone has changed in the mere two days since we returned victorious. Unlike my soldiers, who hoot whenever they see me, regular citizens want nobles to be nobles, and I, a slave rising so high above them, don’t fit in with their worldview.

I’ll squash those sentiments soon enough.

Sealing the devils was one step, winning the war is another. But for now, I’ll settle with impressing the clergy and getting them on our side. It shouldn’t be too difficult, assuming they match Manny’s description.

We stop before a walled garden at the heart of the city, muffled sounds of lute and a woman singing reaching my ear.

They are good.

“Wait here,” Manny says, and soldiers fan out.

Rather than knocking, she pulls a rope and soft chimes come from the other side of the wall.

The melody dies, and barely five seconds pass before the door opens and a flustered woman, younger than Lea, looks at us with trembling eyes.

“My Noble Lady,” she says and curtsies, “um, we… I…”

“I wish to speak with the major voice about a certain matter.” Manny’s voice is neutral, meanwhile the young woman looks left and right, searching for a rock to crawl under.

Leaving a child like her to handle the duchess was really mean, something Hell’s officials add to your slideshow. But I guess they just passed it down until there was nobody else to pass it to.

“That is my right as the lord of this city,” Manny continues, and the girl nods.

“Yes, please follow me,” the poor thing stutters and leads us inside, her plain, white dress making her look like a virgin sacrifice in some ancient culture, about to be fed to a dragon.

Manny glances at me for a moment. ‘Are you certain you can do this?’ she asks with a fleeting look, and I flash her my winning smile. She rolls her eyes, and we keep following the sacrifice through a picturesque garden with an artificial lake and streams, spanned by several small, artistic bridges.

There’s a large building to our left, but we head for the gazebo instead. There, a solidly built man with gray hair and keen eyes is reading a manuscript. Although I am literate, I cannot recognize the writing.

“Major—” the girl starts, but the elder waves her silent.

“Contemplate your mistake.”

She scurries away, leaving us alone with the major, who closes his book before he meets our gazes and stands up.

“Duchess Eagleeye, your safe return brings great joy to my old heart.” His words trickle out in a subtle, pleasant rhythm. “However, Lord of Song sides with no mortal government.”

“Yet, in refusing our request, you are siding with the king,” I say, and Manny’s eyes widen. She certainly didn’t expect me to start by chiding the major voice.

The man opens his mouth to say something, but I raise my hand, gesturing I’m not done.

“Now I’ve heard there was a sacred chord

Which Aang Ree played, and it pleased the Lord

But you don’t really care for music, do ya?”

The priest pales and steps back, almost falling back into his chair. My words and low voice struck him with almost physical force, but I’m not done. Far from it. I’m gonna keep beating him with lyrics.

“It goes like this, the fear, the guilt

The minor toil, the major tilt,

The battle king composing…”