Surprisingly, or perhaps not surprisingly at all, it wasn’t Rowan who spoke first. He was stun-locked and missed the opportunity.
“What? Father is making him a noble?” the princess shrieked. She sounded downright horrible, and looked just as betrayed. Like she had been just told that people were getting ready for her execution, and she needed to attend at her earliest convenience.
“Correct, Princess Amanda.” The messenger turned towards the insufferable woman, and Rowan didn’t miss the slight smile she wore. Or the fact that she was addressing the princess by name.
“He can’t do that! That’s not —” She cut off herself. Her face grew frighteningly blank, before the fires of anger made their reappearance. “I sent a missive with my request to my father days ago.”
That was news for Rowan. Very unwelcome, very unpleasant news.
Oh, he had no delusions that he could keep the princess under lock and key, but he would have liked to know she was contacting the king himself while under his roof. He sent his chamberlain an ugly look, which the man weathered without so much as a shift in expression.
That was the downside of establishing yourself as a benevolent figure, Rowan supposed.
Then the fact that he was officially a Marquis hit him.
Up to that point, his authority came from the fact that he was a hero and the local mayor. It wasn’t an inconsiderate amount of authority, but he was definitely not an official noble in any capacity.
He wasn’t trained on how to act like a noble. He wasn’t even trained how to act as a minor local lord yet.
Before he could start hyperventilating, though, Rowan steeled himself to continue to function. “I thank you for your good tidings, and the well-wishes of our king.” He actually managed to sound polite and earnest. “Would you care to join us for a meal? My chamberlain will prepare a room for you to rest.”
“Ah, that will not be necessary. I still need to make my way to Hero Kayla’s current posting post-haste. I will be continuing my journey immediately.”
Rowan didn’t shout in joy or breathe a huge sigh of relief, and he was inordinately proud of himself for that. Of course, what the messenger was actually saying caught up to him rather promptly. “Hero Kayla? Is she receiving a similar missive?”
“Unfortunately, no.” The woman did look regretful, at least to Rowan’s eyes. “There is a minor matter of the neighboring kingdom’s activity along that particular border. It is nothing to worry about, I assure you. The defenses of our kingdom are still as solid as ever.”
Rowan highly doubted that, considering all the recent nonsense he’d been through, including but not limited to the demon wave that had broken through Rest’s Remorse itself and flooded into the baron’s lands.
It was difficult enough dealing with the demons, and now it sounded like they needed to potentially worry about sabotage from supposed allies too.
“Of course. His majesty’s grace will continue to protect us,” Rowan said, throwing every polite combo of words he could think of at the messenger in the hopes that she’d leave even a little bit faster.
There was a bit of a snag when the messenger realized that she hadn’t turned over a very elaborate wooden box, but that at least was rectified easily after the baroness noticed. It contained signet rings meant to denote the newly risen nobles’ new status, as well as serve as seals. Without that catch, things would have been far more complicated than they already were.
Thankfully, Blake used the opportunity while they were seeing the royal messenger off and sorting that out to slip away himself. When they reentered the atrium, he and his party were long gone. A good thing, too, considering the way the baroness had gone still and stared down the princess due to her outburst.
“Walk with me.” The baroness coldly demanded. There was little the hero party could do but comply.
Surprisingly, Henry too elected to join them, trailing behind at a ‘respectable’ distance. Rowan sort of hated the fact that he could properly gauge and evaluate said distance now.
“They made us all into nobles.” Rowan stated the obvious just as they reached Camilla’s study, earning a slight glare from her as she opened the door and almost stomped her way to her designated seat.
“Yes, they did. More importantly, they made my daughter a Viscount.” The woman growled, making a tent of her fingers in front of her.
Rowan hesitated, eyes flitting between mother and daughter. Olivia had a deeply conflicted look on her face, one Rowan didn’t like at all. “Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing? It’s a step closer to your previous title.”
“It would be… if Olivia was the designated heir of the barony.” The baroness sighed in a rare moment of open weakness. “However, that would be her older brother. The same brother who is currently stuck ‘studying’ in the capital.” The bitterness was palpable.
Rowan didn’t know what to say to that. There had been oblique mentions of a sibling in the past, but Olivia never actually discussed the man with him. Point of fact, she typically kept away from any topics concerning her family and their history.
Obviously, there was something he was missing, but he didn’t even try to pretend he actually understood all the intricacies of the noble scheming.
He opted for honesty. “Explain it to me like I’m six, please.”
Olivia chortled, but it was a sound more tired than amused. “It means that my parents need to either transfer the right of succession over to me from my older brother, or eventually put him into the awkward position of a baron having a viscount on their land as an attached noble house.”
“Which is an issue because…?”
“Because that’s a recipe for disaster. It’s a bit convoluted. I need to marry eventually, and that would give my husband’s family the opportunity to meddle. Granted, the same issue crops up if my parents designate me as the heir. My brother has an official longstanding engagement to prevent such nonsense, but the king himself could designate a ‘suitable suitor’ for me and cause all sorts of trouble because I don’t have one.”
Rowan stiffened at that, eyes growing almost unnaturally wide. “He can just order you to marry someone?”
Olivia looked distinctly discomforted, but eventually nodded. “Yes. If an ‘important noble’ fails to ‘find the right spouse or enter into an engagement with a prospective spouse of good breeding’ by their age of majority, the royal family has the right to step in for the sake of ‘preserving an important bloodline’ of the kingdom.”
Rowan felt mounting horror at the news, indecision and doubt warring inside of him. The twins, too, seemed to have a couple of things to say on the subject.
“Wait, does that technically apply to us too, now?” Milena immediately asked, looking, if anything, even more panicked. “We were just made into nobility too, right?”
“Technically, yes, it does. However, you are not from a longstanding noble family, and your designation as nobility fall under the scope of the frontier as Rowan’s attached noble houses. Things are a bit different out here. In fact, the special dispensations for frontier lords are the primary reason there’s never been a noble house with territory solely within the frontier.”
“I have special rights as a frontier noble?” Rowan latched onto that, trying to follow any train of logic that would take him away from how worried and pained Olivia looked.
“Correct. You have far more freedom and far fewer obligations to the crown. It is understood that as a frontier lord bordering the demonic wastes, you cannot receive the normal support the kingdom would typically offer. Likewise, demands and expectations placed on you would differ.”
“So, we’re safe?” Marcus asked just to confirm, even if he was already exchanging relieved glances with his sister.
The baroness sighed, glancing her at her daughter. “Yes, you are safe. This is why every noble house has at least minor holdings within the kingdom proper. It allows the king to maintain more direct control and exert more influence. The crown must have failed to procure a territory quickly enough if they’re resorting to this.”
“Why make us nobility at all? Why now?” Rowan asked, somewhat disgusted with himself at the fact that a part of him was starting to regret ever setting out to rescue Blake.
“Your achievements are starting to pile up, and popular hero or not, the public will be interested in tracking your progress. You should’ve received an honorary title a long time ago. Now? The crown was forced to recognize your efforts after saving the hero adopted by the king.”
That, more than anything, was a slap to Rowan’s face so profound he actually reeled back. “Adopted?”
“Yes? Were you not aware of the fact that he was accepted as part of the royal family? That automatically makes him a part of the king’s own household, and necessitates an appropriate reward for rescuing him. Besides, saving the other members of his party requires similar compensation, too.”
There was a lull in the conversation. A tense moment of silence as everyone just stopped to process everything that had been said.
Rowan’s eyes, of course, drifted back to Olivia.
He knew her well enough to recognize all of the signs of profound distress. The way her hands shook ever so slightly, in spite of all the hours she’d spent on training herself to keep them steady in her lab. The way her lips quivered. The way her eyes darted around as she desperately looked for a solution. Even the deepening pallor of her skin was something he could easily track.
He’d certainly spent far too much time sneaking glances of her face to miss such a change in her complexion.
The problem was, Rowan was terrified. There was a fear, a seed of doubt, that refused to shrivel up and die within his chest.
He more than cared about her. He loved her, without a single doubt. He wanted to spend — well, not all of his time with her, that would quickly grow overwhelming for them both — but at least most of it. So, what was there to hesitate about? Why wait?
Deep down, he knew he had one, single trepidation. A tiny, insecure part of him wasn’t completely sure he would turn down an offer to return home.
There was genuine joy, wonder, and a surprising amount of happiness in his new life. But there was also so plenty of pain, uncertainty, and inconvenience too.
His heart card and his sheer desire to prevent himself from collapsing into an inconsolable puddle on the ground did much to keep Rowan’s mind together. Plenty still chaffed at him.
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The horrible conditions when he was out on expeditions. The level and lack of technological development that made long-distance travel a chore, not to mention anything like modern entertainment options. The tasty, yet admittedly odd food that was just a little off from what he expected.
And of course all the trauma, fear, pain, and guilt. Couldn’t forget that.
So, what would really happen if he came face to face with the choice between staying with his newfound friends or even family, and going back to the world of convenience, coziness and low expectations?
Could he really guarantee that he wouldn’t crack?
And was that enough to justify seeing that expression on his favorite alchemist’s face?
In that moment, Rowan decided that it wasn’t. He didn’t bother thinking further. He just stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug.
It was the cowardly part of him that justified cradling her head against his shoulder as touching and thoughtful. If it let him avoid eye contact? Well, that was a nice little side benefit.
“Olivia, will you please marry me?” He didn’t apologize for the missing ring, the lack of explicit parental approval, and whatever thousand and one other local traditions he was likely trampling all over. He didn’t rightly care about those.
Apparently, neither did she. “Yes, you absolute dummy.” She sobbed out, and then she was kissing him and crying and Rowan didn’t even mind all the tears making the experience taste decidedly awkward. He was far too happy and relieved to care.
He asked the question, and now all the decisions were behind him. More importantly, she said yes.
The happy couple and the twins both missed a happy little smile on the baroness’s face.
—
It was only an embarrassing amount of time later that Rowan actually paused to think about the legality and official recognition of his proposal.
By that point, both of them were properly seated in front of Olivia’s mother, and the twins and Henry had been ushered out of the room under the guise of ‘dealing with family affairs’. So, Rowan moved to immediately clarify the issue.
“I don’t mean to undermine my proposal, but… is it actually valid? Do we need the approval of the crown or anything?”
“How can you be both so competent and so hopeless at the same time?” Camilla’s response to the proposal came only after she had internally collected herself. “Are you sure you want this one, daughter?”
“I couldn’t be more sure.” Olivia was quick to reassure her, with only a mild glare.
“Very well. Rowan, the answer to your question is that as nobility, one of you being a high noble at that, you need to submit your engagement request to the royal family. If the king deems the engagement to be valid and unproblematic, then you would be made an officially engaged couple, to be married at your convenience."
“Somehow, that sounds like the perfect opportunity for the royal family to block marriages they don’t like,” Rowan hissed. “What even constitutes a ‘problematic’ engagement?”
“Actually, it’s not that bad. They can delay and they can cause trouble, but they can’t say no without a very good reason. For example, the lineage of the houses is carefully considered to avoid any potential dangers of incestuous relationships. If there are no problems of that nature and similar, an engagement is almost always approved.” Olivia reassured him with a light smile, in a much better mood now.
“Almost always still implies they can get away with denying a marriage if they really want to.”
“Hardly.” Camilla took over again, leaning back in her chair in a much more relaxed posture now that the twins were gone. “Feuds, coercion, and the like are the other reasons a marriage might be turned down. Not that it’s an issue, in this particular scenario. You don’t need to worry about royal approval.”
“Yep!” Olivia was practically bouncing in her seat, and Rowan found her cheer infectious. “I am marrying into your family because you have the higher rank title. So, the frontier laws apply. Out here, the highest ranking local noble has the right to approve marriages. There are no dukes out here, so that would be you!”
Rowan wanted to cackle evilly, but contented himself with a smile. “So, I need to ask myself if I’m okay with my own marriage? Hmmm, I don’t know…”
Olivia rolled her eyes and poked him in the side, provoking laughter. It really did feel like a huge rock had been lifted off his chest.
“The best part is, because I’m marrying into a marquis family now, I can leave my own title to my brother,” Olivia said smugly, which Rowan found adorable. He failed to hold himself back from lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers.
He found the way she blushed even more appealing.
“I’ll get to drafting the relevant documents right away.” The baroness approved and was highly motivated, much to Rowan’s relief. He was perfectly content with leaving those parts of his duties up to her still.
He didn’t like the glint of promise in her eyes that she would be teaching him all about his newfound status and the requisite skills to live up to it, though.
That did leave him with an opportunity to have a bit of fun. “Thank you, mother,” he quipped, a smile growing on his face as Camilla flinched and then looked at him with wide, startled eyes.
Eyes that promptly narrowed at him dangerously, as a smirk to match his grin emerged.
“You are welcome, son. Of course, you are aware of the fact that your brand new fiancée’s father, who was not informed of this engagement prior to it forming, is set to arrive in two days’ time, correct?”
Rowan swallowed thickly, and thoughts of levity and happiness fleeing him like wildlife before an apex predator.
He had, in fact, forgotten.
—
Rowan nervously toyed with his new signet ring, eyes set on the horizon. By all accounts, the ring should have reassured him.
He was a marquis, waiting to meet a baron.
Naturally, it was his other newly obtained ring that was making it hard to relax.
He and Olivia had made a personal visit to the most skilled local blacksmith, and Rowan had to admit that the man managed to work a wonder at record speeds.
Their rings were crafted out of the bluish-green tint of mythril silver, with flecks and swirls of precious stones naturally included in the design. It was as though the smith had managed to melt the sapphires and emeralds used in the making of the rings, incorporating them far better in the design.
Perhaps he had done that.
Whatever the case was, they were left with a pair of rings that were as beautiful as they were spotlessly smooth. Considering the fact that they would be taking them into active war zones, that was an extremely important quality to insist on.
Rowan had a predominantly green ring sitting pretty on his finger, while Olivia’s hand was graced by its blue counterpart.
The rings were perfect, and the generous rewards Rowan handed over to the smith were, in his opinion, more than justified. No matter the disapproving looks he got from the baroness when he handed over one of the few heart cards he had.
That still didn’t shield him from having to greet his new father-in-law.
When the visiting procession came into view, Rowan’s breath hitched in his throat. They’d been warned a couple of hours ago by a forward scout, true, but that had only exacerbated the sense of expectation Rowan was struggling with.
The baron had graciously accepted him into his home, and Rowan had then effectively proceeded to snatch away the man’s daughter.
Olivia, of course, had no compunctions or fears. She was already excitedly waving at the emerging silhouettes of her father and his men on horses, and all but vibrating in place in her eagerness to greet him.
Funnily enough, the baroness was barely doing better. Long years of etiquette training and impeccable decorum were likely the only thing keeping her from bolting ahead to meet them.
In a way, Rowan understood. If he was separated from Olivia for as long as the baroness was forced to spent time away from her husband, he’d likely feel the way she did too.
Then the figures came into proper focus, and Rowan forgot all about his worries for a time.
“Bron!” Olivia’s gasp clued the hero in the second she spotted the officer herself, and then the only thing stopping her from running ahead was her hand in his.
Rght there at the front, riding practically side by side with the baron, was Bron. Rowan didn’t hesitate to fully engage his perception, pushing at what its meager number could allow him to do.
The man wasn’t fully healed. Not nearly. He could make out the bandages perfectly well, and they still covered his limbs like mummy wrappings. Bron’s face, however, seemed fully recovered. Even his hair had grown out a little, reminding Rowan once more of his own unruly mess.
Rowan didn’t even bother trying to hide the fond smile that played over his features. She looked so happy in that moment, so relieved, that he wanted to hug her. Giving into the impulse, he did. Then he felt the freezing pressure of an aura even with how far out the baron still was for a moment.
That brought the jitters right back, and they didn’t fade again until the man was finally in front of them, immediately getting swamped in hugs by his wife and daughter the second he was off his horse.
Bron needed assistance getting off his own, but then the second he was stumbling on his feet, he was patting the hero’s shoulder with a grin.
“Well, look at you! Don’t you look way more impressive than you were back at Felton’s Mill? I even hear you’ve finally been made a noble, eh?” Then the man scanned Rowan’s fingers for the signet ring, and found something else entirely. “An engagement ring? Didn’t hear about that one.”
Rowan would later swear that he could pinpoint the exact millisecond Bron’s words reached the baron and the moment the man processed them fully.
The weight of his attention was a fully physical thing.
“It seems we need to talk, boy,” Olivia’s father ground out, and Rowan eyed the horse he’d so recently vacated with contemplation.
Surely, he could snatch the animal and make a run for it, right?
—
Rowan had expected shouting. Maybe some menacing intimidation or even a plain attempt at politely discouraging Rowan’s interest in his daughter.
What he did not expect was for the baron to trade a few quiet words Bron, snatch him up, and go in search of Blake. Now, with two startled heroes more or less literally in hand, he led them to what could only be described as controlled chaos.
In other words, a rough and tumble celebration organized on the spot.
Several hours and plenty of thoroughly confusing conversations later, most of them centered on how to split his time between his duties and his wife, and the baron’s advice was rapidly turning into slurred nonsense.
“You need to follow your friend’s example better, son,” the baron rumbled. His cheeks flushed before he flinched at the term he’d unconsciously used, and then glared like it was Rowan’s fault that he had said the words.
“He never was good at parties. Or drinking. Or drinking parties,” Blake slurred, slumping sideways in his seat. If he hadn’t been seated next to the wall, Rowan was pretty sure he’d be on the floor by that point.
“Well, we‘ll have to remedy that, ey?” Bron shouted merrily, raising his own glass and downing it. Again. For what seemed like the thousandth time that night.
Rowan had no clue what the actual alcohol content of the spirits they were drinking was, but his bet was on high. Which made the fact that Bron wasn’t even flushed yet all the more confusing.
Rowan was relatively fine too, but that was only by virtue of his regeneration card. It really didn’t like it when he had alcohol in his system, and it was working double time to purge him of it. Thankfully, against all biological processes, that didn’t just dump ludicrous amounts of liquids into his bladder.
Less thankfully, Rowan could actually see plumes of purged chemicals rising from his skin, not to mention smell them. He positively reeked of medical grade rubbing alcohol.
“Of course,” Rowan answered reluctantly, lifting his glass so it could be refilled once more by the enthusiastic officer. “Why are you trying to poison me again?”
“Poison you? We’re just celebrating your good fortune!” the frustrating officer insisted, downing yet another cup of alcohol with relish.
Rowan just grimaced, followed suit, then promptly broke into coughs. That was even stronger than what Bron had forced on him before, and there was absolutely no chance he was enjoying even a hint of the taste the drink supposedly had.
Presumably it was some kind of expensive whiskey or some such, just like the rest of the bottles they’d raided from the manor’s cellars. Rowan would really have preferred wine if he was forced to drink at all, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards.
Outside their window, the sounds of laughter, arguments, and not only a few fights rang out. The mayor’s army and the troops that had accompanied the baron were making merry as well.
If someone had told him a near cripple, incapable even of breathing without pain, would provoke a citywide party, Rowan would have readily chided them for their overactive imagination.
As it was, he could only stare at Bron mute with astonishment. Less than a day after the baron’s arrival, he was already showing a whole new side of his personality to Rowan. Now he knew why Olivia liked him so much.
“Listen here, boy,” the baron suddenly rumbled, face even redder than it was mere moments before. “I like you. You are… respectable. However, you better protect my daughter with your life. If you’re going to drag her into nonsense, at least make sure she doesn’t end up hurt, okay? I failed at that. I let my family get involved. Don’t let them do that to you, too.”
The baron broke into ramblings, eyes drifting slowly shut, as Rowan watched on in astonishment. He’d originally expected the man to be confrontational, if not outright deny the legitimacy of their engagement. Instead, he asked his daughter if she was happy, and then legitimately congratulated them. It was one of the more confusing moments in Rowan’s life.
—
Seeing his father-in-law slump over into the lap of his comatose best friend was something Rowan would carry with him for years.
“How are you not passed out already?” Rowan directed the question at the officer who was happily polishing off an entirely new bottle of drink.
“Because I know my limits, and because drinking an elixir that you really shouldn’t be able to survive tends to do all sorts of wacky things to your body.”
Rowan jabbed his finger at the passed out baron accusingly. “He’s epic. You’re not.”
At that, finally, a sly smile quirked Bron’s lips. “He’s also the one that’s had three bottles of liquor clearly marked out as something to be consumed only by epic tiers and above.”
Rowan stared, then chuckled, then laughed. By the time he was finally brushing happy tears out of his eyes, he already managed to finagle Blake’s arm over his shoulder.
“I’ll put Hero Blake to rest first. I can’t get your lord standing with my arms full already,” Rowan complained.
“Only if you come back to keep me company.”
Rowan snorted, thoroughly amused. “Fine.”
Stumbling his way over to Blake’s quarters, where he handed him off to the trio of grumpy, upset women, and then over to where Kayden was staying close to his own room, Rowan even meant to keep that promise.
Of course, when Olivia opened the door to his room and dragged him in for a kiss, all thoughts of doing so evaporated.