Marcellus Marks couldn’t understand why everyone, including his father, was in an upset over the results of the Tornetum’s first day. And if they didn’t want an unexpected conclusion, why mix everything up with the additional contenders?
Marcus was free-thinking enough to realize that he’d had the best time of any vorago trip ever, watching that girl smack the fighters and champions around. She hopped over them and tripped or floored them with such fantastical skill that Marcus was almost doubled over laughing. He had hated most Tornetums for how serious the nobility in the stands were about their serious champions while the buffoons in the stands celebrated as if it was Aallandranon’s final day.
Damius Marks had retired upon his arrival at the castle.
Marcus bathed the stench of his sweat from the sauna-like vorago from the cracks of his body. As he sat within the soup of potions and herbs that filled the bathtub, Marcus’s mind drifted to the girl. He thought of her black hair, and green eyes that he could see all the way up in the stands that were like emeralds. He thought of the way she had moved, the way her koromo fit her figure.
As he sat in the bath—alone in the silence of the castle—Marcus closed his eyes and imagined the girl before him, but she wasn’t wearing her koromo, she was wearing a fashionable and eloquent queen’s dress. He saw her in the morning sunlight against the balcony banister of Narcuss’s entrance hall. She turned her head, met his gaze, and smiled with those green eyes.
Even in the shade of an imaginary moment that would never occur precisely like this, Marcus felt a stab of longing: a hungry need to have her close to him.
It wasn’t a sexual feeling. It wasn’t passion, or lust, or pure animal instinct to plow and rut like barbarians—however, the passing thought of being with her in that way also pleased him. It was a feeling of knowing that face would be the face to greet him each morning. That face would be imbued in the children she would bear for him. That face would be there as he was crowned King of Narcuss.
The prospect of this reality was too perfect. Marcus opened his eyes and stood up from his bath, naked and dripping the tonic of his bath water from his body.
He dressed in a royal black tunic and put on a pair of exquisite tan leggings. He pulled the impressive military jacket of his outfit tight to his figure, realizing that he was gaining a little too much weight in the stomach area. He still kept in good shape from all the training he was required to maintain, but there were still a few too many wrinkles in his thirty-four-year-old face and around his eyes.
How old was the girl, anyway? She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, and that would be the ceiling. What if he turned out to be fifteen years older than her? What would the citizens say to know that he wanted to court a woman who was barely a woman at all in the eyes of the Aallandron society?
Being fully independent of his father, Marcus decided he would meet the girl. He needed to see her if only to extinguish the kindling of this fire that was beginning to burn within him.
He was unaware that this frame of thought was the first scaffolding that had and would lead to every man’s doom with regard to love. If only I could speak to her for just a moment, maybe my curiosity will go away.
But it doesn’t go away, it only boils and boils, becoming stronger and stronger until one realizes that the ground has been pulled out from under them, they’re falling, and there’s nothing to grab onto.
Falling. That was the feeling those green eyes put into his heart when she turned and looked at him in a thought he had conjured in his mind.
Marcus descended the steps to the royal hall and met with Garth. He was vying to become chancellor once Marcus took over. Garth kept the castle running at peak efficiency while serving him and his father.
He only had one leg, so everyone knew where he was when he was walking with his wooden peg sticking out from his pant-leg. He kept his long, scraggly white hair in a ponytail, and always carried a short sword at his hip.
“Evening, Garth.” Marcus nodded.
Garth, who had been on his way to his study after grabbing a glass of whiskey from the castle kitchen, paused in the main hall to meet with Marcus. He looked Marcus up and down, unable to understand his attire for the situation. He gave Marcus a quick bow, then continued walking with him down the central passage toward the entrance hall.
“What’s the occasion, if you don’t mind me asking?” Garth nodded to his uniform that made him look like he was getting ready to mount up for battle and lead a charge.
It took Marcus a second to come up with a good response, but the one his brain pulled out of his ass was eloquent. “Perhaps diplomacy, perhaps intimidation. Omne will decide which.”
Garth cocked a brow at this, not understanding, but he never pretended to understand the drive of the Narcuss elite. Being in the middle of most affairs going on within the castle, whatever Marcus was up to was probably of little importance regardless.
“Garth, my good man: I have a personal request to make of you, if you’re not too busy.” Marcus said.
“Anything, Sir: anything at all.” Garth was smart enough to know it wasn’t a question, and he always liked to be in the good graces of his lords.
“There are two monks in town, one of whom took part in the Tornetum. It’s already late in the day, so it’s likely they’ll be staying somewhere in Narcuss. I’d like to invite them to stay in the castle for the until the Tornetum is complete, so I need you to find out where they are and bring them here if possible.”
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Garth bowed. He hurried off to do the investigative work Marcus wanted that was also part of his job.
It didn’t take him long to learn from the many guards who were aiding in the quelling of the riots that the two monks had been trapped within the vorago undercroft for hours with a crowd of rioters braying for their blood three blocks in every direction.
Garth had to threaten to ream the guard captain on duty for refusing to open the underground passage to the vorago. The captain quickly caved and sent several men to retrieve the monks from the undercroft via Garth’s instructions.
Marcus poured himself a glass of wine and reclined in the great library of Narcuss Castle. It was world renown, and resided underground in the heart of the castle where it could remain safe from storms and other such elements.
Aallandron nobility regarded language and books with the utmost respect as literacy usually meant one was educated, which correlated with one’s wealth in society. While Marcus could read, he didn’t really like reading. He read through one of his father’s favorite books, Le Cantum de Castamere, until Garth could bring his guests to the entrance hall.
At last, Garth returned to greet him, pausing in the arched, ornate threshold leading from the hall to the library. “The two individuals of whom you requested have arrived and are waiting in the entrance hall. I warn you: they carry a foul odor.” Garth stood with his chin high, the repulsed expression playing upon his face.
“Thank you, Garth.” Marcus stood up, drank the last of his glass of wine, and then adjusted his clothes upon his person. He rolled and popped his shoulder before heading into the main passage leading to the entrance foyer.
He saw the top of the stairs leading down to the castle entrance where he had imagined seeing the girl with the sea green eyes looking back at him upon the banister.
It was ironic to him that when he rounded the stairs and laid eyes upon Susi in close proximity for the first time, he had imagined her so clearly, and yet his heart—it had already been, what had he called it: falling?—his heart took a mighty dive off a cliff, and he didn’t know if there was a bottom in which he would ever land.
The girl looked up at him, and she was still a girl…but older somehow. When their eyes connected Marcus couldn’t tell if he actually swooned as he descended the stairs, but he felt like if he were to fall end over end down every single step it would be both justified and worth it.
Her Talea uniform was splattered with blood. She carried both halves of her broken staff in one hand at her side. Her hair that had been pulled into a ponytail was loose around the tie she had made to hold it. If not for her being quite possibly the most dangerous individual Marcus had ever encountered, he might have thought she was desperately poor and terrified of her current situation.
The man standing next to her could be her father, but knowing a little of the Talea religion, that was unlikely. They didn’t look very similar either. The smell of them met Marcus’s nostrils, but it really only smelled of the vorago up close.
“Good evening to you, and congratulations on surviving the first day of the Tornetum!” Marcus said. The toneless expression upon the two monks’ faces didn’t change. “I genuinely mean it. Perhaps no one else appreciated what happened in the vorago, but I did. I always love a good underdog story.”
“Susi was never the underdog as she never lost Ulkindar.” The man standing beside the girl spoke.
“Well, congratulations on surviving all the same. My name is Marcellus Marks—”
“We know who you are.” The man spoke once more. Susi, next to him, watched Marcus carefully.
“And what is your name, good sir?” Marks asked, remaining pleasant for the guests despite the abrasive tone the man was giving.
“My name is Grobeche, and this is Susi.” Grobeche motioned to her. “We’ve had an extremely difficult day and would like to rest in the flat they promised us as soon as possible.”
“I couldn’t allow such distinguished guests to stay in a prison flat. It’s not right, so I offer you the royal baths, fresh clean clothes if you wish, and comfortable beds to sleep in this evening. I’ll have the cooks prepare a feast for the two of you now, and a grand breakfast in the morning.” Marcus offered.
“We can acquire our own food, and we would likely not use your beds,” said Grobeche. “We don’t…sleep like you do.”
“Then meditate in safety within the walls of the castle.” Marcus spoke softly, genuinely. “Whatever you need, just let me do something to compensate you for the evening you’ve experienced prior to entering the castle.”
“We can stay the night, right?” Susi asked and even her voice made his heart somersault in his chest. Of all the women he had been around in his life, he had never been so nervous as he was now with this girl. Part of him wanted to get on his knees and beg her to stay just so that he could be in her presence a little longer. It was so unlike his usual nature.
“If you wish to stay, Susi, we can stay.” Grobeche shrugged.
“Excellent!” Marcus grinned. “Can I get you two a drink? Anything, anything at all: just name it.”
“A carafe of water would be perfect enough for us.” Grobeche said.
“And for you, my dear, anything specific you’d like?” Marcus asked.
Susi swallowed hard, considering a beverage that she chose not to voice. “No, the water will be enough for me. Thank you.”
“I will have Garth prepare each of you a carafe that will be ready in your room.” Marcus nodded. “I can give you the tour of the castle now, or we can wait until the morning.”
Grobeche stroked the stubble around his chin. “I think we’re going to—”
“We can see the library?” Susi interrupted.
“Yes, if you’d like, but there is one little caveat.” Marcus squinted. “Visitors aren’t permitted to walk the castle barefoot, or in sandals. We have a rather strict dress code. There’s a private bath in your room or if you’d prefer the famous royal bath hall, you’re my guests and you can join if you wish.”
“Of course.” Grobeche said. “I suppose, take us to our rooms then.”
“Wonderful,” Marcus held back as he motioned for the two to climb the stairs. He followed Susi as she climbed the steps behind Grobeche. When she reached the top Marcus felt actual pain in his heart as she walked by the banister he had imagined her standing by in a vision that he would fight actual wars to see come to fruition.
The desire he felt toward Susi surpassed and dwarfed all previous concepts he’d had of the fickle emotion he knew as lust. She had done nothing but survive the Tornetum and exist, and yet it was the fact of her religion that made obtaining her all the more engaging of a challenge.
After walking them to their rooms, Marcus told them if they still wanted a tour of the library, he would be at the end of the corridor. He tried to only look to Susi briefly, but it was almost impossible not to look at her.
Could she tell that something was wrong with him when their eyes met? Could their religious practice give them the power to see directly into the mind from the hyper focus they were known to have?
If so, she would see that the feelings inside crashed over him like the waves of the sea.