A maid in a uniform that differed from Andrea’s politely offered to escort Magdalene and her entourage to the ‘Sun Room’, where a small luncheon and tea would be provided. For some reason, Magdalene’s expression grew cool and still.
“I will permit it.” She agreed frostily, but then added, “But a woman- even a maid such as yourself- should avoid putting unmentionable things in their mouths. If you plan to serve someone, be certain to wash the stench of such things from yourself before doing so.”
The maid jerked, shocked, and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Better. I know the way to the Sun Room. Go clean yourself.” Each pronouncement was chilly and cold, like chunks of ice.
“Her breath smelled like-” Fialla began, but a look from Magdalene silenced her.
The topics of sex in the Redstone were handled differently in Stormheim, it seemed.
In the Redstone it was hard to keep anything private with shared living spaces, and so there was simply just an unspoken agreement- those that did it didn’t mention it, and those that heard or saw or smelled it didn’t acknowledge it either. When you shared a tent with your parents it wasn’t hard to know what they were doing, so children quickly learned to simply politely ignore it when it happened, and when such things were happening in the tents around you, you also offered the unspoken courtesy of not acknowledging it.
When they were finally seated in the Sun Room, a room that had large windows covered in those clear, hard disks that Sheilah had discovered earlier, Magdalene pointed out how they were expected to comport themselves at the table, with posture, seating, and how to hold their tableware.
“You’re picking this up with some ease.” Magdalene observed. “Light knows how long it took for me to break the habit of crossing my ankles at the table.” She added.
It took some time, but as they snacked on luncheon meats and sweet, fruity biscuits, one of the game wardens was announced and allowed into the Sun Room with the women.
“My ladies, I apologize for the late arrival-” He began with a bow. “What manner of animal would you like to be hunted for you today?”
Sheilah and Fialla traded confused looks at this question, and looked to Magdalene for an answer. Instead, Magdalene waved her hand to Sheilah and Fialla.
“It seems these two young ladies wish to try their hands at hunting.” Magdalene replied indifferently. “I have no such interest.”
He turned to Sheilah and Fialla, eyes dipping to their armor briefly before giving them confused looks.
“Very well my ladies, is there a particular animal you would like hunted for you?” He repeated.
Sheilah organized her thoughts quickly, and trying to emulate Magdalene, adjusted what she was going to say.
“You mistake our intentions...” She trailed off, unable to figure out a way of acknowledging him, since he hadn’t offered them his name, “We came here to hunt.”
He blinked a few times at Sheilah and Fialla, dressed in their dragon leathers.
“You are...” He began, but trailed off.
“We’re here to hunt.” Sheilah repeated.
“...of course. I shall assemble an appropriate detail of wardens for you. What game are you looking to see hunted today?” he repeated.
Sheilah stood up and turned to the case that held her bow and quiver, and opened it up, while Fialla did the same.
“Don’t misunderstand.” Sheilah offered, trying to emulate Magdalene, who was watching Sheilah and Fialla curiously.
Sheilah lifted her quiver from the crate and belted it to her waist.
“We will be hunting, today.”
He seemed lost for words for a moment. “Forgive my impertinence, but will you two personally be hunting today?” he asked nervously.
Sheilah nodded. “That’s right.” She affirmed with a nod.
“I’ll... see about assembling an escort, then?” He asked, as Sheilah lifted her bow.
“That will not be necessary.” Fialla replied this time as she belted on her own quiver.
“What can we hunt?” Sheilah asked. She pulled out one of the dragonbone arrows and examined the point carefully. “I was hoping for...” What was it called? “... a ‘Crystalhorn Deer’, or something equally challenging.”
His mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry my lady, but we’ve never been able to capture a Crystahorn for the King’s Forest.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Sheilah frowned a little in disappointment. “A shame. Their meat is delicious.” She gestured. “So? Can we go?”
His mouth worked at the situation. Women, especially noblewomen, did not hunt, or if they did, they were of such low station that it precluded the idea of hunting in the King’s Forest.
“I... see.” He decided.
“We want to hunt for a couple of hours.” Sheilah repeated. “Can we go?”
“I...uhhh,, all right?” He asked, and then gestured towards the low forest beyond the manor. “There are deer- unfortunately, no Crystalhorn,” He repeated, “and also some boar.”
“Remember ‘Boarzilla’?” Fialla spoke up then, causing Sheilah to chuckle.
“I remember. Let’s go.”
Sheilah and Fialla shouldered their bows, and headed for the front doors of the estate, the arrows in their quivers rattling subtly. The Warden followed after them, and Sheilah slowed her pace and adjusted her posture so that she walked more like Andrea and Magdalene. A moment later, Fialla did the same.
“That bow...” the forest warden began hesitantly. “What sort- that looks more like a warbow than one for hunting.” He eyed it speculatively. “What is it made of?”
Sheilah lifted her bow from her shoulder, and then after a moment passed it over. Fialla blinked, shocked at this.
“Heavy.” He muttered as he lifted it. “Bone?” He muttered, and then plucked the twisted strand of sinew that was used in place of a bowstring. He blinked a little, and then settled his feet, briefly stopping them.
The two girls watched as he drew it, seeing the effort in the flex of his arms and the sweat on his brow.
“That’s a heavy pull.” he observed, passing it back. Sheilah nodded.
The two girls headed into the forest, leaving the warden to follow in their wake.
*****
Sten woke up groggily, feeling as if the left side of his face had been pulverized. He wasn’t certain if the girl that had been dressed so provocatively had actually hit him or if perhaps he’d been blindsided somehow, but the pain was real.
He groaned as he woke, feeling his face was swollen and sore. The swelling was so bad that his eye didn’t want to open.
What did his aunt call her?
Ah. Sheilah. He’d remember her.
He struggled out of bed and gingerly put on his coat, buttoning it up carefully. It was telling that there were no maids to help him; his aunt must have commanded it.
He was vexed that his Aunt had rubbed it in his face that he didn’t have a noble title. He was merely “The son of a duchess”, which, while it had a great deal of authority when it came to dealing with others of lesser standing, it absolutely meant nothing to anyone who was an actual duke or higher, so getting dressed down like that hurt.
Besides, he’d heard the talk; with the Stormheim family having no viable heirs since their three sons had died and their daughter ‘disappeared’- likely the result of their dealings with the elves- it was likely that someone like him, someone that was close to Stornheim blood, would be taking the throne once Toril stepped down.
It was likely that he’d be partnered with someone from Toril’s family, assuming there was someone that was of a reasonable age that could carry a child, but there weren’t too many options, there.
In truth, he wasn’t looking forward to inheriting the mess Toril had to deal with. The Elves were an ever-present and constant thorn in the side of Stormheim, gouging and bleeding it from a number of tiny, but telling cuts.
He had no desire to be the King of Stormheim, either. Let someone else take up that burden. He was happy with the responsibilities he was currently saddled with, which was to say, very little. He’d support whoever it was that they put on the throne, if they were competent.
He stepped out of his room and caught the attention of a passing maid. “Where is my-” He began, but switched gears. “Where is the Queen?” He asked, and the redheaded girl flashed him a look- he was well aware of what he looked like, the mirror had pointed that out to him well enough- but simply referred him to the Sun Room.
He was a little disappointed that she didn’t escort him, but simply carried out her task- pushing a laundry cart- with brisk efficiency.
He entered the Sun Room and approached the queen. “My Queen, it’s a pleasure-” He began, but was cut off by her gesture. Magdalene Stormheim held nothing but contempt for him and his ways of alleviating his boredom.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you were using the royal suite for yourself.” She replied curtly.
He let out a gusty breath. “Yes, I used the royal suite.” He admitted. “But it’s not like you or Tor- err, the king ever come out here anyway, so it’s not like you’ve lost anything by it.”
“I will remind you of your position: a son of a duchess. Not a king, nor a prince. You are mediocre in your studies, lazy in your responsibilities, and your morals smell as bad as you do.” She paused for a moment and then continued lecturing as if he were a particularly stupid child.
“The things and places that are accorded specifically towards the royal family are for exclusive use by the royal family.” She explained, “and as such, if someone is caught using those things without permission from the royal family- and do not think for a moment that Toril or my sister will back you up on this- the punishment is usually execution.” She finished matter-of-factly.
Sten stiffened at that. “Will my mother allow you to execute me?” He asked curiously, and then gestured at the table.
She waved her hand, and he sat.
“Why wouldn’t she?” Magdalene replied. “She has other, more capable heirs.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t think I’d enjoy that.”
There was a long pause of silence.
“You can be of use to me, you know. You and your collection of ... ‘friends’.” Magdalene offered in a low voice.
“What, are you planning to rope me in to some noble cause?” He asked. “Maybe send my group as part of the next expedition to the Silverlands, perhaps?”
She shook her head. “Certainly not.”
“Well, I can hardly think of a use for a bunch of second and third sons and fourth daughters of nobles who already have their successors established. Military service is too rigid, church service too abstemious, and playing steward to a bunch of backwater territories too boring.” He finished with a grand gesture.
“Oh, I can think of a few things.” Magdalene replied, and lowered her voice.
She explained a few things, suggested others, and insinuated more. All for the price of an apology and their loyalty.