There was the smell of perfume in the air, so subtle that you might mistake it for the luscious gardens that rested just outside. Perhaps the smell was the gardens, whose flowers bloomed an odd shade of gray and rose so high as to be seen from the window. Regardless, the odd floral smell was there, everpresent, like a wall that you hit upon entering the room.
Beyond the smell, the room was an imposing thing. Fifty feet by fifty feet and decorated with all the luxuries one might expect. Paintings on every wall, silk window curtains and silk sheets and silk pillows filled with soft down. By the fireplace on the floor was the fur of some beast or another. A monster, though what kind was hard to tell. Whoever killed it had taken its head clean off with fire magic. Some of the fur was still blackened from the flames.
But of all the decorations in the room, the one that drew the eye the most was a familiar piece hanging on the wall opposite the bed. A painting, though not by a master painter, it depicted only a man in a green coat standing in a darkened room, his great mutton chops the only prominent detail about him. A painting Alden might not look twice at, had this not been the third or fourth time he’d seen it. The first at the entrance, most likely, and then again in the hallway on the way here, and perhaps again just outside the room, though in his haste he found it hard to recall.
Count Stowgardyn, he presumed. Or an ancestor of some sort. The Count’s father or grandfather was as likely as any other. Not that it mattered. The paintings, while peculiar in their own way, served only as a distraction for him. Being here, now, the ball was no longer the distant unknowable event that had preoccupied his planning for so long.
And there was still work to do.
Placing his luggage at the foot of the bed, Alden left the guest room and studied the hallway. Much like his own room, the hallway was luxuriously decorated with golden lanterns and paintings and silk curtains, and the floor was all red carpet that sank slightly beneath his feet. And, displayed just opposite his door, was that familiar portrait. Alden gave it an amused smile, then bounded off down the hall.
Where the room had been imposing, the manor was doubly so. Enormous, it was so large as to cast a cold shadow over the entire front gardens and so daunting as to give him pause. And yet the interior felt even larger, with hallways and rooms at every turn, many of them host to signage marking this section or that as off limits to guests.
Twice he was tempted to ignore the warnings. The first time when he first read the sign, which annoyed him immediately. Off limits? Who are you to stop me? Two thoughts, two feelings, that were dismissed by reason. A man with more power than I have.
The second was on the fourth floor. The floors below varied between walls of white and red and brown, all with gold as the decoration of choice. The fourth floor, by contrast, had green walls with silver as the metal of choice for the lanterns and chandeliers. That, and the hallway was short to the point of mystery, stopping only some twenty feet from the stairwell, at the end of which was a door of the blackest wood Alden had ever seen.
Stemming from that door were threads of every size and color; red and pink as thin as a spider’s webbing, blue as thick as a finger, gold as thick as rope, green of equal size. And black, though he had to squint to see it, so thin as to almost not be there at all. The only thing stopping him from taking a step towards the door was another thread, thicker than all the rest combined and coming from upstairs. A thread that was multicolored.
From above came the echo of steps, and the source of the multicolored thread. The perfect example of noble excellence, the man that descended the stairs was dressed in a suit of all white, accented by a black undershirt and a green tie. Blond, the man was handsome beyond compare, with striking blue eyes, perfectly unblemished skin, and a jawline that was at once sharp and smooth.
The man noticed Alden, as was impossible not to. There was a glint of recognition in his eyes, followed by a toothy smile as white as his suit.
“Are you Lord Alden, perchance?” the man asked.
“I am.”
“I am Aelfric Bradfirth. Aelfric the Younger, in these parts, what with my father sharing the name. I hear you came here on Lady Aelfwynn’s ship?”
In the back of his eyes Alden felt the start of a migraine. “That I did, my lord. Lady Aelfwynn was quite generous. Without her I would not have been able to make it. I did not know the date and, even if I had, I possessed no ship fast enough to arrive on time.”
Aelfric the Younger smirked. “Ah, the difficulties of a newly formed barony. Or a poor one, though I think that that issue is much the same as the former. But you are here, Lady Aelfwynn be praised, and I must say that you stand up to the rumors!” Aelfric inspected him up and down, then measured Alden’s size with his hands. He compared the measurement to himself, his hands so far apart that he could walk between them which, in fact, he did. “You are truly something, I must say, my lord.”
“I shall take that as a compliment. Lady Aelfwynn, herself, did not seem nearly so amused.”
Aelfric laughed. “Do not take offense. Her amusement, if nothing else, presents itself in abnormal fashion, my lord. If anything, that she offered to bring you here at all must mean that you have caught her attention. She is not typically so…involved with others.”
“I hope this interest is nothing to worry about,” Alden said. There was a turn in Aelfric’s features, as if he’d just heard something unpleasant.
“Why do you say that?”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“From what I’ve heard, Lady Aelfwynn is engaged. And, if I recall correctly, her engagement is to you, my lord. And I have no intent of intruding on this partnership.”
Aelfric smiled his white smile, clapping Alden on the shoulder. “That is good of you, my lord, and much appreciated. Though,” he said, his smile falling away and his hand squeezing Alden’s arm, “I fear that I do not fully believe your words, Lord Alden.”
The smaller man’s fingers dug into Alden’s arm, barely felt. Aelfwynn was right. Aelfric was no warrior, his hands unused to even the simplest of manual tasks, leaving no strength in his grip to speak of.
“And why is that?” Alden asked.
“Call it intuition? Your very manners are suspicious, my lord. Too quick to ease my doubts, too quick to take interest in her interest. I had not trusted the rumors until now.”
“Rumors?” Alden asked.
“Surely you’ve heard them?” Aelfric asked.
“I have not.” Alden felt the fingers squeeze harder, for all the good it did. He couldn’t help but smile.
That was the wrong choice. A deep red overtook the pristine white of Aelfric’s skin. His eyes furrowed, his mouth frowned, and he took a step back, his free hand balled into a fist. Alden wondered if Aelfric would try to strike him.
But Aelfric did not. Instead he looked Alden up and down, sizing him up, then took another step back. He crossed his arms.
“What are your intentions with Lady Aelfwynn?” Aelfric asked. “To seduce her? Coax her away from me? Or do you just enjoy toying with a young maiden’s heart?”
Alden was tempted to lie, to inflame the man who was so bold as to accuse him directly. What would Aelfwynn have thought of that, he wondered? Surely she might be amused. Or, in the worst case, renege on their deal. No, Alden thought, better to play along with her game. For now.
“Lord Aelfric, I must protest. I arrived here by Lady Aelfwynn’s ship, true, but that is the extent of our relationship. The purpose of her arriving in my lands was merely to forewarn me of the ball’s date and, once she saw that I did not have a ship fast enough to make it in time, she took it upon herself to bring me with her, out of the goodness of her heart.”
“So,” Aelfric said, “you claim that you have no interest in her? That there is nothing between you two?”
“I’ve not interest in Lady Aelfwynn, my lord,” Alden replied. “However, I cannot claim there is no interest on her part. I am not Lady Aelfwynn, and so do not know her feelings. But, if I am to be so blunt, I feel I was to her no more than mere entertainment. My stature, she told me, was the talk of the land, so much so that she had to see for herself. Whether she has any greater interest in me I do not know. If it is any assurance, I have a feeling she has no serious interest in me.”
Aelfric’s arms tightened around him. He sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring, then turned his head. “The roast is done,” he said under his breath.
“Come again?” Alden asked.
Aelfric turned back to him. “Nothing. Just remember, Lord Alden, that Lady Aelfwynn is my betrothed. And if I find out that there is anything between you and her then there will be hell to pay, understand?”
“Is that a threat?” Alden asked, his irritation showing through. From where he stood the young lordling was nothing, in status or stature. A mere, pathetic creature that barked and growled when it should have stayed quiet.
“If you’re so daft you don’t know, then I shall clarify. If you so much as lay a hand on Aelfwynn I’ll have your head taken from your shoulders and your lands burned to ash. Is that clear enough?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
The young lordling sauntered off toward the kitchens, from which Alden now began to smell the baked flesh of some poor creature or another. Pork, he guessed. He wondered what kind of foods would be accompanying it; nobles made every meal a fanfare when guests were about, with every main course accompanied by half a dozen smaller appetizers. Tempting as it was to go and sift through for something that might suit his palette, Alden instead turned and gazed out the window. The sky was dyed pink, the sun dipping down further and further in the distant horizon. The ball would begin soon. He needed to change.
When he arrived at his room once more he found Amice waiting for him, already dressed in a gown of emerald and silver. At her neck was a necklace of gold, encrusted with shining gems of green and blue and red. Actual, real gems, purchased from the System.
“I suppose it’s my turn,” Alden said.
Amice grinned coyly. With her dress, which nearly touched the floor, she seemed to float over the floor as she walked, like a ghost. “I can’t wait to see,” she said.
On the matter of dress, Alden had toiled over what to wear ever since he first heard word of the ball. And though Amice had helped him with the basics of fabrics, creating a suit from what was readily available to him was a poor choice. No matter what he’d chosen, there was not a tailor for over a hundred miles. Not one with enough skill, at least.
But the System, for a hefty sum, could solve that problem for him. And he’d let it, just this once. A fine suit to impress the woman who had just offered to purchase monster materials from him.
“Colors?” he asked.
“Hmm… just the basics. Red, blue, and gold, perhaps with blue or black as the main body?”
“Satin, wool, silk,” he said.
“Those will do.”
“I’ve got it.”
Fine Lyonpool Suit
+35 Charisma when worn.
Cost: 3,000 Impera
Three thousand impera later and Alden was dressed in the most expensive outfit he’d ever thought to wear.
The soft fabric rested easily against his frame, the knees and elbows suitably loose for easy movement and the rest slightly stiff, so that no wrinkles could be seen. The seaming was excellent, the fabric high quality, the trim just right. Looking in the mirror he expected to see himself. Not what he was now, but the boy he’d started as a year ago. A slightly tall, pudgy boy with a mane of wild hair and a patchy beard that couldn’t really be called a beard.
What he was now was something strange. Someone strange. A handsome man, if overly tall and rugged, wearing an impeccably fashionable suit and a face filled with all the confidence in the world.
“I think it fits quite well,” Alden said.
Amice didn’t say anything at first. Lost in thought, she just stared, the kind of stare that meant she wanted to see what was beneath the suit. He could almost see her drooling.
“Amice,” he said, prying her from her thoughts.
“It’s good,” she said, her eyes never leaving his body.
“Shall we be on our way, then?”
Taking one last second to take in the view, her eyes flicked up to meet his own. “Let’s.”