Volithur spent the night in a state of shock. He was engaged to marry Khana. But why? Obviously the fact that he had backed up the story of a proposal in front of Master Rowan had been a major factor in the outcome. What he wanted to know – needed to know – was why Khana had come up with that lie in the first place.
They had been caught, sure. In the moment, Volithur assumed she was throwing him a lifeline in a precarious situation. Master Rowan had been quite upset, after all. What trouble might have been stirred up if his ire remained raised? Certainly it would not have been good for him.
Yet, as someone who had lied and maneuvered for increased access to resources, he couldn’t help but think of a more cynical explanation. Khana did not want to be sent away to the Evergreen Institute to be trained as a scribe. She had attempted to win the heart of Ulysses a year before to escape her fate. More recently, she had lowered her standards. A future member of the Lord General’s retinue would be acceptable. She just had to maneuver him into a compromising position, get caught, and coerce him into marriage. It would be impossible for him to escape the way Ulysses had. Not as a commoner caught embracing a noble girl.
He tried to push the doubts out of his mind, remembering the dance floor and the shared glances and the hunger in her lips. It couldn’t have all been false, could it? Volithur didn’t want to believe her desire for him had been a lie, but… what did he know of women? He was the perfect mark for a desperate girl. As far as she knew, at least.
Because he had a secret. One that the Castellan suspected but only Thassily ever truly knew. He was not a future footman to the Lord General. He was just some ward granted an education. If he was lucky, everyone would assume the Lord General just forgot about the promise and let him slide into obscurity in some minor role in the fifth household. If he was unlucky… things could become difficult. For both him and his future bride.
A third line of thought kept resurfacing. One not really related to the purity of Khana’s intentions. One much simpler to latch onto and intriguing to imagine. Once they were married, he would have the opportunity to continue what had been interrupted by Master Rowan. Which would be nice. Really, really nice.
Volithur managed maybe two hours of sleep the entire night. He at least had the comfort of knowing that he had ruined Hazen’s night as well. The boy muttered every half hour about Volithur ‘moving too much’. Having spent a year and a half sleeping in a hammock suspended above that of a roommate, Volithur didn’t have much sympathy for light sleepers.
The Head Scribe made Volithur sit beside him at breakfast, while Khana was kept several spots down on the other side of the table. She still managed to shoot him the occasional smile, which did a good job of suppressing his fears that he had been callously manipulated. Maybe there had been some calculation involved in her actions, but if she still cared for him then it would be hypocritical for him to fault her for maximizing her opportunities. He certainly took advantage of situations himself. If anything, their opportunistic natures made them a good match. Right?
Then came their first match-up of the competition. He won calculations, Hazen won spelling, and Khana won recital. Lydia’s debate performance did not suffice. The girl stewed quietly as they watched the other teams having their first matches on stage.
At lunch, Lydia decided that the reason for her loss was that she had trained debate against two commoners and a disinherited noble. She hadn’t been used to countering intelligent arguments. But she would surely win the next round. Master Rowan, who had witnessed the fiasco on stage, avoided entertaining or disagreeing with her self-assessment by launching into a detailed commentary on the quality of food served.
The second round went poorly. Volithur won, Hazen won, and the two girls lost. Then when the tie breaking logic was applied, it was determined that the other team had a superior record. The Shaocheth team had been eliminated in the second match of the day. Everyone waited for Lydia to explode, but the girl instead began to tell anyone who would listen ‘it was known’ that the judges were accepting bribes. Members of the other teams responded to this with cold politeness as Master Rowan squirmed in embarrassment.
Dinner began with more of Lydia’s diatribe about dirty judges and unfair decisions. At some point, Master Rowan decided that line of conversation could not continue and made an announcement. “I have decided to grant Ward Harridan’s request to marry Khana. Since she will no longer need to attend the Evergreen Institute, some of the funds freed up can be spent to rent a house in the city.”
The Head Scribe and Hazen clapped politely while looking straight ahead – a clear sign of their disapproval. Meanwhile, Lydia made a sour face. “Marrying a commoner? Your prospects continue to worsen, Khana. I’m ashamed to know you carry the blood of the Lord General.”
Khana’s smile dimmed and she nodded her head in acceptance of the critique. Volithur opened his mouth to rebuke the child and had his foot stomped aggressively by the Head Scribe.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Master Rowan issued a halfhearted defense of his niece. “Marrying a future member of the Lord General’s retinue is not a terrible match. She will be allowed to emigrate to Tian.”
Lydia’s face colored bright red. “I will go to Tian as a rising star of the family.”
“No doubt, Lydia,” Master Rowan continued, “but that doesn’t lessen Khana’s –”
“Marrying a servant? It’s a tragedy!”
Master Rowan slammed his palm onto the table. “If this man is worthy of the Lord General’s retinue, then he is worthy of Khana’s hand. Do not second guess the judgment of our ancestor.”
Lydia bared her teeth in a snarl. “You’re a permanent resident of the fifth household, Rowan. A loser. No one respects you. I’m going to insist your resources be cut.”
“Forgive me if I don’t quake in fear at the thought of you turning your debate skills against me,” Master Rowan sniped.
Their private dining room fell silent after that, other than the occasional sounds of eating. Back at the cottage, the Head Scribe pushed Volithur towards Hazen with a snapped ‘watch he doesn’t sneak off’ before going to work damage control. For the rest of that evening, the Head Scribe split his time between Master Rowan and Lydia, attempting to placate both egos. Volithur cultivated in the corner of the main room to pass the time, doing his best to ignore the tense atmosphere.
Master Rowan said repeatedly that they had to attend the evening entertainment provided by the Evergreen Institute, then became too drunk to stand, which effectively put an end to those plans. Everyone went to bed in poor humor that night.
They suffered through a tense breakfast, then watched the tedious end of the competition. The second place team was from Thrush, home of the girl Jemmi who had conversed warmly with him at the previous year’s dance. While another set of teams was battling for third place ranking, Jemmi limped over to where he sat with his group.
She turned a chair from the first row around and sat facing him. “Harridan.”
“Congratulations on your team’s second place finish, Master Jemmi,” he said.
“Our conversation from last year inspired me to hire a foreign calculations tutor. I wanted to thank you for your assistance.”
Volithur forced a smile. “I am glad you found me an inspiration, Master Jemmi.”
“My only regret is not getting to face you on stage again. I am certain I would have been your match this year, Harridan. This is my final year before my majority, so I won’t have the chance to prove my superiority.” The girl paused. “Though you seem to be doing well for yourself. Based on the extent of your body enhancement, I assume you intend to be a soldier?”
“I am being trained as a footman for the Lord General.” The lie came easily now.
Jemmi’s brow furrowed in confusion. She glanced to Hazen sitting beside him, and the boy shrugged. “It’s true.”
“I see. Well, I won’t trouble you any longer. It was a pleasure knowing you, Harridan.” Jemmi’s mannerisms had grown more polite suddenly, and she departed without another word.
They stayed to witness the awarding of trophies, then departed once the winning team members had been led away for their treatment in the cosmic chamber. Master Rowan was stopped a few times by fellow nobles who wanted to comment on his team’s failure to make the finals. He awkwardly turned the jabs aside by stating that academics had taken a back seat since two of the team’s members were recently engaged to be married.
Volithur found himself glad they were not attending the banquet that night. He might not have his friend Thassily at the barracks anymore, but anything would be preferable to the tense atmosphere that had pervaded their group since their elimination the previous day. He closed his eyes to rest on the transport vessel as the pilot took them home.
When they touched down, the Head Scribe held up his exit so they could speak alone. “Ward Harridan, your presence in class is no longer desired.”
“Understood, Master Scribe.”
The pilot waited until they were alone to slap Volithur on the back. “You have done well for yourself, kid. The day I brought you here, I thought this place would eat you up and spit you out. Now you’re marrying one of the family. Has the other ward done well here?”
Volithur barely remembered the day he had arrived at the estate. Certainly he couldn’t recall if the man before him was the same pilot. “Thassily got a girl from the city pregnant and they ended his wardship early. He’s a rum distiller now.”
“Now that is a lifestyle upgrade I can envy,” the pilot said. “Not that my job is all that bad. If you get tired of swinging a spear, you might consider piloting. It’s not very hard, you just need to spend most of your downtime cultivating so you are always full enough on energy to fly.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Volithur said.
He returned to the barracks, greeted his fellow soldiers, and joined them for dinner. Afterwards he cultivated for a while before climbing into his hammock, grateful to be home. It wasn’t until about midnight that the peace was shattered by the Marshal yelling his name.