“You do intend on sending the dowry tonight, correct?”
This was the third such time the noblewoman had asked that day, and perhaps the dozenth over the past week. In fact, her pestering would have likely been even greater had the marriage of her youngest brother not been decided so quickly and spur-of-the-moment by their nation’s young King.
Her father sighed and rubbed his sellion. He could have put the shipment off for some time more but for the insistence of his only daughter, Frith. To him, there were several more important things on his mind than little Niklas’ humble marriage to a poor Countess.
Frith van der Leigh placed a hand on her hip and looked down at her father with a stern, unamused face that would’ve reminded him greatly of his late wife… had he lifted his head and his gaze from his desk and his work.
“My Father is not an unintelligent man by a great stretch…” she continued pointedly, “...so I am sure you have realized, in this uncommon circumstance where the groom is providing the dowry, that Niklas needs the substantial capital provided to him if he is to fix up such a poor territory.”
Finally Kaiser van der Leigh lifted his own stern gaze to meet hers.
“As I am sure my daughter is aware, we have limited capital to offer. There are several more pressing matters that require my time and my limited resources–”
At that Frith interjected, leaning over his desk and beaming down at him with the large and pleasant smile she wore as a mask over her growing irritation.
“So if you simply send the dowry now then this arduous task will no longer hang over your head and interfere with your oh-so-pressing other matters!” She fortified her smile into something even more gratingly cordial, even as her gaze remained as unflinching as steel.
A vein on Kaiser’s forehead visibly throbbed as his blood-pressure increased. Who but his stubborn and bull-headed daughter would dare to interrupt him in such a disrespectful fashion? In that moment it took every fiber of his willpower to keep himself from erupting in an undignified manner.
“We will discuss this later.” He hissed at her. “Now get out of my office!”
Slowly, his daughter rose from where she had leaned upon his desk, returning to her previous tall and proud posture, from which she leered down at him.
“The dowry.” She said one last time, giving his desk a condescending pat, before turning on her heel and leaving through the door. As it swung shut behind her, the two proud and stubborn Nobles it separated unknowingly let out the exact same exasperated sigh.
Frith, a beautiful and mature woman for her age of twenty-four, bore the same dirty blonde hair as her elder brother, although she wore it long, streaming down past her shoulders like her second brother. Her eyes were the same bright emerald green as her youngest sibling, though her gaze was thin and scrutinously sharp. Her body was tall, broad-shouldered and corded with lean muscle, giving her the air of a seasoned stallion–all of the children of the van der Leigh family were to train as Knights regardless of gender and societal norm, and she was no exception to this tradition.
But in this moment, this disciplined and proud young woman slouched in dejection.
I thought I could convince him, but it appears it will take some doing yet to accomplish. She bemoaned to herself.
In her mind she could not help but picture the small, emaciated boy who always appeared so frail and close to death, yet as she played with him he would smile and laugh more lively than any other child his age.
I’m sorry for being such a useless sister, Niklas. I’ll do whatever I can, so I pray you are doing well now!
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“Ugh!”
Niklas was tossed with some force into a small room, one that was somehow especially dark and dank even compared to the other similarly decrepit rooms in this crypt of a castle.
The walls nearest to him were composed of cold, perpendicular metal bars. Niklas realized with a start that he had been thrown into a prison cell! He looked up at the tall figure who stood in the open doorway between him and freedom, the moonlight from the small window reflected off of her familiar silver mask which bore a feminine and slightly portly face engraved upon it; her bright and violet eyes glared down upon him from behind it.
“W-what is the meaning of this-” Niklas began to shout, but a deep female voice cut through his, sounding muffled behind her silver mask.
“Who was it?” She demanded forcefully and coldly, as her large, tattered cloak flowed around her and made her appear in that darkness as some kind of ethereal reaper.
“...What?”
“Was it the Lords of Lengar or Otkorn? Have they finally turned their foolish desires from the Road of Benedict to the territory of Petrice proper?”
Niklas looked up at her in clear and silent confusion. As she continued to speak she turned and began to pace before where he sat on the cold and dirty stone floor of the cell.
“Or was it maybe someone a bit further out? Maybe the Duke of Lionel finally means to continue his expansions westward? I’ve always thought him an honorable man, but I have been disappointed before.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Only then did Niklas begin to wrap his head around what she was implying.
“Perhaps Marquis Illund no longer trusts the integrity of the Kingdom’s borders to a family other than his own..?” She muttered to herself, almost as if she had become so enraptured in her speculation that she had forgotten Niklas’ presence entirely.
Desperately, the young Noble scrambled to his feet.
“I-it was the King!” He cried, recapturing her attention once more. “The King had sent me!”
Before he could blink, a large hand once again grasped the collar of his shirt and with it forcefully dragged him close, so that the mismatched newlyweds now stood eye-to-eye.
“A foolish and unbelievable fib!” She cried, her strong voice battering at Niklas’ ears due to their close proximity. “Why would the King, who has scorned Petrice as worthless for so long, suddenly have a change of heart and pay us any mind?”
Niklas’ eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.
“Perchance,” he tentatively responded, unable to break his gaze away from hers, “-you had not known..?”
At this the Countess narrowed her eyes, dragging him even closer, to the point where the tip of his nose was touching the cold metal of her mask. “Known what..?” She hissed in quiet suspicion.
“The old King had passed in his sleep a year ago, and another half of one more!” he answered. “There is a new King now!”
The Countess paused and did not speak. For a moment the only sound in that small cavernous little room was of her ragged breathing through the thick mask. Then suddenly she relented her grasp upon him, and Niklas stumbled backwards from the unexpected release.
He managed to catch himself, and after brushing the wrinkles from his shirt, he bowed before the Countess in his most regal manner–though he still never broke his nervous gaze away from her, and he was covered in a film of cold sweat.
“I am Niklas van der Leigh, third son of Baron Kaiser van der Leigh. Top of my class in economics, business, and management, and in high form in other related studies.”
The Countess still did not move nor speak from where she stood before him, and Niklas felt a little awkward and so he continued.
“The new King, in the interest of the prosperity of the County of Petrice, has sent me to help to manage the finances and the capital of the territory, and to help build it up into a wealthy and…beautiful…” He trailed off then as he looked about at the dark musty and old building around them, and the dreary and foggy view out of the nearby barred window.
Another awkward pause followed. Niklas coughed and scratched the back of his head to fill a little of the silence as she glared down upon him, unmoving.
Finally, she spoke. “So you are to be my… Seneschal?” she inquired. “A member of my Court? That, then, is what you purport?” She asked incredulously, and Niklas gulped as it dawned on him that she was not aware of his assigned role.
“W-well…” He stammered as her leering eyes threatened to bore through his skull. “To be more accurate I came here to be your…” And he trailed off again.
Her hands grasped him once more, shoving him violently backwards until she had slammed him against the cobblestone wall of the cell.
“Out with it, you yammering knave!” She demanded. “Answer, or I’ll run you through right here–”
“--Your husband!” he replied in a desperate, gasping whisper, having had almost all of the breath forced out of his lungs. “I was wed to you at the Capital and I am here now as your lawfully wedded husband!”
There was another long pause as the Countess digested the words this small, pitiful man had just spoken.
“Muh-” She stammered, and in an instant she had dropped Niklas like a hot coal, withdrawn from the cell and then slammed the doors shut to trap him inside!
“What is this!” Niklas shouted, pulling himself to his feet and futilely grasping the cell bars to shake them. “Let me out!”
“Criminal!” She boomed down at him. “Your punishment for lying to the Countess shall be decided in the morning!”
Niklas’ heart sank, was there no way for him to convince her of the truth?
“Th-the King will be offended! To lock me up in such a way–as his representative, it will be seen as an insult to his royal person!” Niklas called after the Countess as she began to depart.
She stopped at the door as she placed her hand upon it and looked back over her shoulder to reply. “Your ridiculous tales shall not worry me! For what true Nobleman would agree to lower themselves to marriage with… someone like me?”
And even in his desperate situation, in that moment, Niklas thought that her voice sounded almost…hurt, or sad.
But then as she pulled the door open, on the other side of it stood the butler! The older man was hunched over, perspiring and huffing after much exertion.
“Belfort?” She asked, with a small start.
At first the old Butler could not speak, for his breathing was too labored, but he held aloft in his hand an unrolled scroll of parchment.
Slowly, she reached out and took the thing from him. Her violet eyes poured over its contents for a beat, and Niklas waited in anticipation as he watched her read. She paused for a moment seemingly deep in contemplation, then she shoved the thing back into her butler’s arms forcefully enough to send him stumbling backwards.
And just like that she departed, vanishing into the dark of the hall beyond the threshold of the doorway.
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“Ahh~”
Niklas sighed with great relief as his feet broke the surface of the steaming water. Part of him had been afraid that, not unlike other things in this dreary land, a hot drawn bath he had requested would in actuality prove to be lukewarm, or temperate at best. His fears, in this case at least, proved to be unfounded.
What was that all about, then..? He wondered.
The Countess had acted quite beastly in his presence since he had arrived. Even if one harbored suspicions of their guest, to act in such an openly aggressive way was most uncivilized and ignoble!
…and who would want to ‘steal’ a wasteland such as this anyhow?
In his privacy he allowed himself to pout as he thought most indignantly about his situation.
Damn that King! And damn my Father! And damn that Countess too! I’ll show them all that they should not have thought so lightly of me! I’ll make this County flourish, and then I shall flaunt it in that brutish woman’s nose! Hmph, we ‘shan’t ever get along, I reckon!
As he indulged in his silent tantrum he sank his mouth and nose beneath the steaming water and exhaled many bubbles.
Angry, angry bubbles.