Nobody in their small household could have expected what a welcome addition Hemsley would prove himself to be over the fortnight following his arrival. Every morning Niklas would marvel at the clear transformation of one or another of the various rooms about the Castle, for the already unbelievable speed at which Belfort could bring each surface to a shine seemed to have doubled with the help of an extra set of hands, as impossible as that was for Niklas to comprehend.
After only the first day that unkempt, weaselly little fellow had been spruced up and now sported quite a dapper appearance. Somehow the old butler had near-immediately produced a servant’s uniform perfectly sized to Hemsley’s specifications, and the former prisoner’s mangy, tangled, and greasy mop of hair had been cut clean down to its base with the dexterous application of a razor. With the finishing touch of a hot bath–featuring several changes of water–to clean away what seemed like years worth of accumulated dirt and grime, one would never have guessed that such a neat and trim lad had been a brigand destined for the hangman’s noose.
While the two servants rushed about hither and yon with mops, great sloshing buckets of water and armfuls of old rags, Niklas spent his days in that familiar pitch-black library pouring over old tomes and dusty parchments. He burnt through the lives of a great many candles over the course of his daily sessions there, spending hours at a time reading and scratching away upon a stack of notes with his quill. These were contracts and proposals intended for the Lords of each and every town and city in Petrice, and so even after he initially completed them, he then needed to replicate each document a number of times before they could be sent out across the County.
“I find it unbelievable how little here has changed over the past few generations!” Niklas once lamented to the butler over another poor and bland supper served in his chambers.
Belfort had replied to his complaint with a small, apologetic chuckle. “As you have said before, my Lord, stubbornness is our lot for better and for worse! The men and women of Petrice will dig in their heels and resist a change to their ways as steadfastly as they will fight off an attack by some terrible beast.”
Niklas sighed and distractedly chewed on the end of his wooden spoon before he responded. “...It is not as though I cannot understand their mindset, living harvest-to-harvest and with so little left over to save for the future. In these circumstances, a change in procedure is a gamble that risks the lives of every person in your community.”
That very night Niklas had newly redoubled his efforts, his earlier musings having lit a fresh fire of motivation under him, though the darkness and the late hour had eventually taken ahold of him and left him slumped over his worktable in a deep slumber. Most peculiarly, however, when he awoke the following morning he found himself in his own bed.
It is a wonder that I was carried up all of those floors and did not wake. I thought Belfort and Hemsley were hardly the strongest of fellows, but one of them must be more capable than I thought..? He had mused to himself afterward, though he paid the incident little further mind.
Finally his work reached a state of completion and he had prepared enough copies of a missive to distribute them to the Lords and Mayors of every town and city in the hold. Though his perfectionism was hardly satisfied by the current results of his labor, he knew he had run out of time to do anything more, for Thomas was to be his messenger, and the wandering swordsman had been taken by a ever-strengthening case of wanderlust during his extended stay in the Castle. Niklas had felt a bit guilty in entreating his new friend to travel so far and to so many disparate locations. But Thomas had accepted his request with enthusiasm, as he cheerfully explained that he usually trekked about without a destination in mind anyhow. And indeed, no sooner had Niklas presented him with his completed packages, then Thomas was already making his departure onto the open road with only a single wave goodbye over his shoulder, Missy faithfully plodding along at his side.
It was only after that moment that Niklas was stricken with a new and terrible thought: What do I do now? The seemingly endless work of creating the documents had consumed his waking hours for the past several weeks, but now he was forced to halt his efforts until each of his reports had been delivered to their intended recipients. So the young Lord found himself spending many long hours draped over the armchair before the fire in his study reading a book or simply lazily swanning about and staring up at the ceiling.
“I’m so bored~!” He would lament aloud, for what felt like hundreds of times each day.
So lacking in entertainment was he that, upon hearing the sudden nay of a horse one evening, he immediately shot up out of his seat. Looking down from the balcony of his study, which dwelled in one of the great towers of the castle, he was able to see, though it was small and distant below him, a group of individuals bearing unfamiliar colors and the standards, who were just then approaching the open gate and the courtyard beyond!
But a moment after this discovery Niklas found himself racing down the spiral staircase with reckless abandon. If he had tripped and fallen in his hurry that might have been the end for him, since this stair lacked a ledge or railings. But due to no small amount of good fortune, coupled with his own natural dexterity, he made his way to the ground floor with the only consequences being a stitch in his side and some shortness of breath. When a knock finally sounded upon the doors leading to the courtyard, Niklas was just rushing by Belfort and Hemsley, who were struggling to transport a quite heavy-looking cabinet through the halls.
“Do not worry, I shall receive them myself!” Niklas announced before the Belfort could even begin to react to the arrival of unexpected guests.
Having reached his destination, Niklas pulled open the heavy inner door with some effort, and was then greeted by a large and slightly rotund man, who was clean-shaven, with brown hair cut into the shape of an overturned bowl. He wore a shirt of dull chain beneath a tunic, blue with copper accents, bearing the symbol of a lion’s head above two crossed axes. The man nodded his head to Niklas in the short but respectful bow that one would give to low-rank servants, as he was likely unaware of Niklas’ true title. After all, what kind of Count greets visitors alone at his own door?
“Greetings, sir.” Said the messenger. “I am here to see Countess Uldred on behalf of the Count of Lengar.”
A meeting… with her? Does she even do things like that? Niklas wondered.
“D-do you have an appointment with the Countess?” He asked, doing his best to maintain his composure while also recovering his breath after his frantic dash. He did not attempt to reveal his status, fearing the awkwardness and slight embarrassment that might follow.
The messenger looked startled at being posed such a question. It was obvious to Niklas that they had not even bothered to make such basic preparations for any of their prior engagements. “N-no sir I have not… Before, we never–”
Not even bothering to make an appointment? With a Countess, of all people?! At this point Niklas was feeling a spark of his irritation grow inside him. What frivolous disrespect these Lengar folk treated his wife with!
“I am sorry, but the Countess is very busy at the moment. If you do not have an appointment, I must ask that you return later!”
At that moment this already startled messenger happened to peer over Niklas’ shoulder and became even more surprised as he noticed the state of the hall behind him, which was freshly cleaned and had been polished to the point where it sparkled even in the scant amount of Petrician sunlight.
“M-my utmost apologies, sir! I shall be sure to make an appointment before I return again!” Stammered the man, who bowed to Niklas again, and this time much deeper as well. “If you could, at the very least, deliver her this missive, I would be in your debt!” He said, before hurriedly opening one of the pouches upon his belt and pulling from it a scroll fastened shut with a wax seal.
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Niklas had to suppress a mischievous grin as he took the proffered document and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his vest. “Of course! I will do so with haste, my good man!”
“Thank you, sir. I shall take my leave then.”
“Very good.” Niklas replied, and for just a moment he let that mischievous grin spread upon his face. “-and I would hope that the next time we meet, you will also refer to me by my proper title as the Lord Count.”
For only the briefest moment he saw the visitor’s eyes widen in shock, but before he could observe any further reaction Niklas had already shut the door quite firmly. Without even a moment’s delay he pulled the scroll back out from his pocket and greedily tore through its seal right there and then!
How fortunate! He thought to himself, a heady giddiness bubbling up in his chest. I was so worried that this had already arrived and then departed again while I was still absorbed in my work, and I would not be able to get my hands upon it. But fortune must be rewarding me for my efforts, for here it is!
Indeed, the document he now held in his grasp was a contract, one that was shockingly short in length or content, and which had been signed by the Count of Lengar and stamped with his seal. It read as follows:
Contract for Military Aid
Parties:
This contract is entered into between the County of Lengar, which is represented by Steward Haas den Bille and will hereinafter to be referred to as "Lengar," and Countess Uldred von Petrice, who will hereinafter referred to as the "Countess."
Purpose:
Lengar hereby engages the services of the Countess in providing military aid with the goal of securing the road known as Benedict, which is the rightful property of Lengar and is currently and temporarily situated within the territory of the Barony of Otkorn.
In consideration of the services rendered, Lengar agrees to pay the Countess one hundred pieces of Silver per annum for the duration of this contract.
-
This contract constitutes the entire agreement between the parties pertaining to the subject matter herein, and supersedes or otherwise renders null and void all prior and contemporaneous agreements, representations, and understandings of the parties involved.
The young Count had to restrain himself from crumpling the accursed thing in his increasingly shaky grasp as he read it. This one contract represented the hole in his armor, his achilles heel. His many weeks of mind-numbing work could be entirely undone by the briefest scrawl of a quill upon that dotted line. Niklas could so easily destroy it now and be rid of the damned thing and the threat it posed to his plans… However, some part of his conscience bade him to keep a firm hold on his wrath. Even as Uldred’s husband and therefore a man who now held a title equal to hers, to come into his wife’s house and, after only a little more than a month, take her business entirely into his own hands left a bad taste in his mouth, and he feared incurring her anger over such an action as well.
“I must directly convince her to tear this thing apart with her own hand!” He declared aloud. “It is only what is right!”
Immediately after this decision, however, he realized that it meant he must now go and to speak to her, and he could not help but shiver at the thought.
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Ahem!
Niklas coughed into his hand to clear his throat, while at the same time brushing lint from the hem of his jacket, readying himself for the storm that surely awaited him beyond the dull brass doorknob that stood before him. Finally pushing through the nerves, Niklas then reached out a hand and knocked upon the old wood surface of the door with the back of one finger-knuckle.
“My Countess..!” He announced with as strong and steady a voice as he could muster. “I have come to speak with you… for I have urgent business that we must discuss!”
He paused then, listening carefully for any sounds of movement from beyond that great door, but when none came he called out again in much the same way, but a little louder each time. Finally, after several such entreaties, he detected the telltale creak of a large form rising from an old bed. In renewed anticipation Niklas took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled slowly, doing his best to settle his stomach. He felt very much now like a brave knight from one of those children’s stories, heroically standing before the lair of a mighty Dragon.
Niklas blinked his once, and within that brief moment when his eyes were closed the door to that room had been thrown open with a bang, and the large form of the Countess was leering down at him in the doorway. She had swung the door open so quickly and forcefully that the action sent a gust of wind billowing down the hall in its wake.
“What?”
The small man stood in stunned silence for a moment, but quickly recovered his wits, shaking his head like a cat drying its wet fur. Pursing his lips, Niklas put out a hand in a gesture indicating he wished him to pass and enter into her chambers. However, as he made to move a great arm slammed across the door frame before him to bar his way. He started and stumbled back a step, and when he looked back up to meet her gaze she answered him with a slow, intimidating shake of her head that made him gulp nervously.
“W-well!” He stammered indignantly, “I suppose we can just discuss it here…in the hallway.”
Reaching into his jacket pocket he produced that vile contract, and her eyes immediately locked upon it! Not unlike a pet animal snapping at a treat held before it, she lunged for it with both hands–but if there was one area in which Niklas could beat this great warrior, it was his nimbleness and his dexterity. As she had raised both of her tree-trunk arms he had ducked his head and darted forward, successfully slipping past her and into her quarters! Now it was her turn to start as she whirled about to face him.
“No!” She cried out as he breached the entrance to her private sanctum.
Having made it inside, it took a moment for Niklas’ eyes to adjust, for it was as dark in there as the inside of a tomb. Once his vision returned, what he saw in that room shocked and disturbed him most terribly! For strewn all about that room, which was no bigger than his own, were many piles of miscellaneous clothes, blankets, books and baubles. The sickly-sweet smell of mildew and sour funk of old sweat hung in the air from clothes that may have sat unwashed for years, while the dusty, yellowing books were mostly left splayed open and face-down upon their pages. Altogether, the floor of that place appeared not unlike the rolling dunes of some great desert, with only a tight path traveling between them that allowed passage to an enormous bed which looked as though it had been made once, years ago, and then never again.
Niklas turned with deliberate slowness back to face his betrothed, his face a stoic and neutral mask, as the fearsome swordswoman herself sank a little into a low, hunched posture and curled in upon herself.
“A-Anyways…” Niklas said with a forced casualness, desperate to act as if he had seen nothing despite the disastrous mess that surrounded him. “The…the contract.” He then weakly held the paper up again, his breath coming in shallow pants as if what he had just seen had knocked all the wind right out of him.
“Give that here!” She demanded with an outstretched hand, recovering her composure somewhat now that she was reminded of the main reason he had visited. “I need it!”
But Niklas set his jaw and took up a wider, defensive stance as if he was readying himself against being charged at a moment’s notice. “No!” He declared.
Through the eye-holes of her silver mask Uldred narrowed her violet eyes, taking a threatening step forward at the same time. “What did you say..?”
“I-I said no!” Niklas stammered, taking a step back as she approached but still managing to keep his chin high. “I demand… that you reject this contract!”
At those words Uldred marched towards him, and as her stride was long and there was little space there for him to retreat, within moments she loomed over him like a great predator about to tear into its cornered prey.
“The contract…” She said again, with a terrible growl that seemed to resonate through Niklas’ very bones. “...Give it. Or I shall have to take it from you!”