CHAPTER 79: IT CAN’T HAPPEN

“I see no reason to think that Delbraun would cheat us on this matter,” Elias said with a determined stare at Argrave. “He will give us his answer at the end of the banquet, just as he said.” He still sat in the stone chair beside the table they’d spoken to Delbraun at. Argrave leaned up against the terrace’s railing.

Argrave sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I wonder, then, why he can’t be found anywhere in the banquet hall.” Argrave lowered his hand. “What did I tell you? I specifically told you not to let him answer later. I didn’t think I needed to specify if the quantity of time was hours or days. Evidently I was wrong,” Argrave said exasperatedly.

“Count Delbraun will come back,” Elias insisted.

“Here’s what I think will happen. Hours will pass, and then the banquet will end. Servants will refuse us, citing some annoyance the count must deal with—or perhaps he’s simply fallen asleep in deep contemplation.” Argrave shook his head. “There’s a term for this. Stonewalling.”

“You are too cynical,” Elias said finally, refusing to argue the point further. Elias’ retainer, Helmuth, seemed to share Argrave’s sentiments, but he did not voice them.

“Fine. Whatever. I did my best,” Argrave shrugged in defeat. “I don’t think we’re at risk anymore, and Anneliese will still be watching for suspicious happenings. Let us wait to see who is right.” He looked to Stain, who sat at the table still. “Stain,” he called out, and the teenager raised his head. Argrave reached into his pockets, retrieving a small pouch. “Here. Well-earned,” he tossed it.

Stain caught the pouch, perplexed. He opened it, peering within, then quickly shut it and looked around. “Gods, you have to stop carrying this much around. Four rose gold coins?”

“Hope you like it,” Argrave said, falling into thought.

“Well… whatever happens, I’m no longer a Jast.” Stain pocketed the pouch. “Every bit helps. I have to leave this place. Leave this city. I want to vomit.”

“Try not to puke, please,” Argrave advised idly, busy thinking.

I think I can finish my business in Jast without a problem. Elbraille doesn’t seem to intend to go public with his support of Vasquer for a while yet.

“Argrave,” began Elaine. “Perhaps you might simply enjoy the rest of the banquet for what it is?”

Argrave lowered his gaze to meet Elaine’s. He considered her point for a moment, then shook his head. “The food is likely cold by now.”

“The servants are adept,” she countered. “And I see something fine over there. Would you like to come?”

“Sure,” Argrave finally agreed.

Elaine and Argrave walked back into the mostly empty banquet hall, heading to a table full of fine foods. Argrave looked around at the various foods, puzzled, before finally settling for a piece of bread with a shake of his head.

“I don’t know what half of this stuff is,” he commented, tearing the bread and taking a bite. Once he’d finished chewing, he commented, “At the very least, this is certainly bread.”

“You could try something new,” she suggested, retrieving a plate of strangely cut meat sloshed with some yellow sauce.

“And risk making a bad night worse? I’ll stick to this any day.” Argrave waved the bread about.

“Consistency is key. Hard to ruin bread.”

“The night was not so bad. You speak well. I learned much about you,” she stared at him.

“Most of it was made up,” Argrave shook his head. “I don’t care what these people think of me. I’d prefer they didn’t think of me—that would be best.”

“I must say, I have never been asked to a banquet on business before,” she looked around the hall.

“Would you prefer to have been asked for other reasons?” he inquired, taking a bite of bread.

“Generally, no,” she shook her head, and then fixed her red hair. “Were it you, though, I think I would have liked it very much.”

Argrave stopped chewing for a moment, tempted to break his rule of never speaking with food in his mouth. Elaine smiled at him as he chewed quickly, swallowing. He asked cautiously, “Are you being serious?”

“If I am?” she returned a question.

“That would be very surprising,” Argrave set the bread down, feeling it was out of place for this conversation.

“It would be. Many men have tried to court me. I have considered some. And now, I am considering one in particular.”

Being confronted with this, Argrave could not help but size Elaine up. She was a beautiful woman, undoubtedly—bright red hair, unblemished skin, and enchanting green eyes. She had a certain fierceness to her face that betrayed some of her personality. The dress she wore tonight only served to accentuate her prominent features. She was a bright woman, too—a B-rank mage at her relatively young age.

“You want me to… court you?” Argrave asked, but Elaine only crossed her arms and smiled. “We have not known each other long. Why?”

“Is that not the purpose of courtship, to get to know each other?” She waved her hand towards him. “You’re intelligent, but you’re not pretentious. You don’t care about what my brother does to earn money. That alone means more to me than you know. I know that you treat the people close to you well—those two you would call ‘friend,’ Anneliese and Galamon, are evidence enough of that. And I think that… I think I would like it very much if I was one of those people.”

“Their case is a bit different, but…” Argrave trailed off, lost in thought. He let the silence fester in the air for a time as his thoughts ran in his head.

When his thoughts came to a conclusion, he turned to Elaine. “Listen. You’re a very beautiful woman, Elaine, but beyond only that, you’re intelligent and ambitious. I would be lying if I said anything else.”

Her face grew a little tense. “It doesn’t sound as though you’re about to say ‘yes.’”

Argrave scratched his cheek, wondering how best to phrase this. “Let me ask you this. Could you, tomorrow, set aside everything that you’ve built and leave Jast to go wandering for years on end? This is no journey of self-discovery, either,” Argrave cautioned. “It will be a journey fraught with perils, and there will be no time for frivolities or luxurious amenities.”

“What do you mean?” she frowned.

“Jast is but one stop in my long, long journey. I lingered here far longer than I wanted to. There is… something that I have to do. Something that I have to achieve. I might die. I almost expect it.”

“Are you toying with me?” she questioned somewhat indignantly.

Argrave sighed and shook his head. “If only. When I leave Jast, I’m headed to the Burnt Desert. I’ll be crossing the mountains using the abandoned Low Way of the Rose.”

“You’re being serious,” she realized. “That’s… immeasurably dangerous.”

“I know. I might take a more respectable road, but I need something there.” Argrave shrugged. “When my business in the Burnt Desert is done, I have to head to the northeast of Vasquer. Maybe you’ve heard rumors of the plague beginning there?” Argrave smiled bitterly. “It’s more dangerous than this civil war, I believe. I have to quell it. My schizoaffective half-brother blessed by many gods will be there, provided nothing too strange happened.”

Argrave continued, waving his hands. “After that, more, more, and more. I cannot rest. I cannot afford it. All the money in my pocket can’t buy the time I need to fix this continent’s misery.”

“I see. Then, that earlier, was you…” she trailed off. “How long will you do this?”

“Three years and some months, as a rough estimate.” Argrave stated plainly, leaning up against the table. “You see, now, why your offer is difficult for me to accept.”

She turned away from Argrave, arms crossed as she lost herself in thought. Eventually, her green eyes fell back upon Argrave. “I felt that you were being… especially considerate of me. Was I wrong, then?”

Argrave was taken aback. It was true—he had been nicer to her than most, but that was only to ensure she caused no problems. He had wanted a transactional relationship more than a genuine one. In the end, she had been a great help: the matter with Rowe, recommending Anneliese as an honorary member to the Order of the Gray Owl, and showing up here today.

“You weren’t wrong,” he stated hesitantly.

She seemed hopeful given his answer. “Then, when all is said and done… when those three years have passed…” she said the words slowly, as though she herself found them ridiculous.

People started to enter the banquet hall quickly, led by servants. Argrave looked around perplexedly—it seemed as though all of the guests had had been led back. Elaine shifted uncomfortably on account of their privacy being so quickly disturbed. The doorway opposite the entryway opened once more, and Count Delbraun stepped out. Beside him was an ashen-haired woman with orange eyes. She was slender and seemed rather meek in front of the crowd.

“Everyone,” Count Delbraun called out. “I apologize for having my servants retrieve you all so suddenly. I have a very important announcement to make.”

Elias came out the door just behind them. Delbraun ushered him in, until the two stood side-by-side.

“As of today, I am very proud to announce a union of two great noble houses. My sister, Ridia of Jast, is now the betrothed to Elias of Parbon, heir to the Margravate.” Delbraun smiled, and clasped Elias’ shoulder.

Argrave’s mouth fell open. He could not help but say, “What?” His voice was rather clear in the silence of the hall. Very quickly, though, clapping drowned out his voice.

#####

“So, he spurned her,” said Elenore, setting the teacup down.

“It seems to be that way, my princess,” a maid said, lowering the paper. The princess was surrounded by many maids, each of them with papers in hand. They seemed more like bureaucrats than servants as they were. The maid continued, adding, “The remainder of Elaine’s writings only reports what we already know—Jast is allied to House Parbon.” The maid straightened the papers. “It is unfortunate she could not grow closer to him.”

“Not necessarily.” Elenore pulled at the blindfold hiding her empty eye sockets, briefly exposing scarred flesh. “I believe her affection was genuine. She would not have cooperated had he agreed.”

The maids looked among each other, uncertainty clearly on their mind. None voiced their concerns, though.

“Should we send Elaine the usual payment we provide for new informants?”

“No,” Elenore shook her head. “Pay her generously. Make sure she knows we are being generous. Compensate Rivien, too, for his part in this.”

“Are you sure, princess? Money is tight after recent investments…” one of the maids asked.This belongs to : ©.

The princess remained unoffended by the questioning of her judgement. “These investments will pay for themselves in months. There is money to be made in war—one needs only to be flexible. We will be fine, my little Wings, fret not. This bat is not yet done soaring.”

Most present nodded in quiet acquiescence. The princess mused aloud, “I did not think I had another competent brother.”

The maids looked amongst themselves, somewhat surprised. Their princess did not give praise easily.

“He killed my designs in infancy,” she noted passively, more an observation than anything. “Unknown motivations, unknown allegiance… and many more unknowns. I am decidedly perplexed.”

“Elaine thinks he wishes to be king,” one of the maids noted. “He plans to achieve great fame for various deeds, all the while aiding the rebellion.”

“I’m… not sure. Perhaps she misunderstood him. Or she’s trying to mislead me deliberately.” Elenore scratched at her chin. “I need to think. I need to plan.” She fumbled briefly for the teacup, and then took another drink.

“Set the rest of the documents aside for now. Fetch my prosthetic feet. I must walk to work my mind lest my thoughts escape me.” She shifted in her wooden wheelchair. The maids stood rapidly, scattering, leaving Elenore in quiet.

“How sad,” the princess whispered aloud in the empty greenhouse. None but her could know what she was referring to.