Noah exited the bedroom and almost crashed into Milly, Duncan, and Jessup who were piled up on the other side of the door. They scrambled backward with expressions ranging from fear to embarrassment.

“So, you were eavesdropping?” remarked Noah, too tired and emotionally drained to even get angry at this point.

“N-no, master!” Jessup hurriedly replied. “We… we just… uhm…”

One of Noah’s eyebrows flew up, cutting the boy’s stammering.

“Yes, master,” mumbled the squire, tightly grabbing the hem of his tunic.

“We simply wanted to make sure that everything is alright.” Duncan stepped in, saving Jessup from further explanations.

“I see.” Noah measured up his three retainers. “All of you thought that I am going to hurt her. Well, suits me right, I guess. Don’t worry, your lady is… unharmed.”

Without saying anything more, Noah left the three behind. Duncan exhaled and knacked his neck, all the while his gaze kept going between the bedroom door and the hallway where his lord disappeared.

“That was… quite the evening,” he said after brief contemplation. “I need a drink. Milly, go check on the lady. Jess, you are with me.”

“But shouldn’t I follow master?” The youth sounded unsure.

Duncan snorted.

“Not if you value your skin, lad. You should know better after four years under him. The Beast of Norden has had nasty mood swings since childhood and grumpiness doesn’t get better with age, trust me. Besides, I think he needs someone else’s company right now.”

“You are right, Sir Duncan,” said Jessup, obviously relieved, but immediately hung his head and his cheeks burned. “I… I know master is a good person but sometimes… he terrifies me.”

“Well kid,” the old knight flung his arm around the youth’s shoulder and guided him out, “our lord sure can be a handful. But if you were hunted like an animal even before you could walk, even a saint wouldn’t remain pure and holy for long. Heads up now, my boy. A pint of ale will melt those worries away.”

***

Noah scaled the narrow staircase swiftly, the oil lamp in his hand throwing jittery light on the walls and casting long, squirming shadows behind his back. The wind was hissing through the slit-like embrasures like a vicious snake, sometimes thinning out into a whisper, sometimes rising to a high-pitched howl, making chills run down one’s spine. Reaching the top of the landing, Noah measured the sturdy door barring his way. It was the third one for this evening. One had turned him down. One he had barged through, only to regret it. This was the last one and, hopefully, the one that would help him find some peace of mind.

When he pressed the handle, the door was unlocked. After all, there was no meaning in locking it, nor was it necessary to put guards outside. The prisoner in the western tower was keeping himself in check better than any gaoler could. The door opened into a small room with a tall narrow window. It was baren, safe for a table, a chair, and a narrow cot. But then, there were the papers, and the scrolls, and the large ledgers – stacked atop of each other in the corners, piled on the floor, sprawled on the table, lying on the bed. The draft from the opened door made several of the documents slide over the room, swirling around before being stopped by the legs of the table. Amidst the rustling chaos sat a lone man, hunched over a scroll, the pen in his hand flying over its surface leaving neat black lines behind. The light from the windproof lantern that stood to his right contoured the face of the young prisoner, deepening the shadows on his scrunched forehead.

“Now look what you’ve done,” he moaned without even lifting his gaze from the documents. “Now I have to separate the planting reports from the livestock census and the calculations on the building costs for the new dykes along Dunai’s mouth. It will take forever to organize again.”

“Good evening to you too, Will.” Noah put his own flickering lamp on the table and made his way to the cot.

“You want to destroy half of Norden’s bookkeeping or what?” William de Mar quickly leaned over and blew out the crackling flame.

“My bad,” replied Noah absentmindedly and threw a few large ledgers on the floor to make himself a place to sit.

“And there goes the marriage register.” William put down the pen and rubbed the base of his nose. “Are you trying to sabotage the yearly report to the Emperor or do you just like to see me sweat over misplaced documentation that much?”

“I need to talk to you, Will.”

“Can’t it wait? I am just compiling the information from the Shadows about Baron Rowell. Something is fishy. To go to such lengths for a simple iron mine. If it were rubies or diamonds, I could understand, but…”

“Will!” Noah had to raise his voice to stop the man’s tirade.

The Steward of Norden tilted his curly head and finally took a better look at his lord.

“So, it’s that bad. You look terrible, indeed.”

“You too aren’t the epitome of beauty,” snapped Noah back.

“Gregor does have a heavy hand,” said William, his fingers reaching for the purplish bruise under his left eye that looked no older than a day or two.

“You deliberately reduced the security of the camp and put his wife’s life in danger. I am surprised he didn’t get to you sooner.”

“It was the first thing he did after recovering enough to walk,” shrugged the man but quickly added after seeing his lord’s furrowed brow. “I never said I didn’t deserve it but he should have waited until fully recuperating. Lucas and Aiden had to carry him out.”

“Stone-face William showing concern for his friends? The pits in the Nether Realms must be freezing.”

“Since you know all too well how much of heartless person I am, what are you doing here looking like a beaten dog who’s seeking a pat on the head… my lord?” He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed on his chest.

“Things… happened today.” Noah hesitated.

The moment he heard that William perked up and for a split second his usually calm face was graced by something akin to worry.

“Assassins?”

“No.” The other man rubbed his face. “No assassins. It’s… more complicated.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I see.”

William stood up and limped to the far corner of the room where he rummaged through a pile of papers that was almost knee-high. He pulled out a gallon corked jug and returned to his seat, carefully maneuvering the flagon to an empty patch on the desk. Unplugging the bottle, he took a swig and then passed it to his friend.

Noah received the jug, his nostrils immediately assaulted by thick alcoholic fumes that made his eyes water.

“How the hell did you get your hands on this?” he coughed and blinked furiously.

“It’s for medical purposes,” answered William pointing at his swollen cheek. “Now, spit it out. What’s bothering you so much to warrant disrupting my isolation?”

Throwing his head backward, Noah took a mighty swig from the jug, its content burning through his throat like scalding water. He coughed and took another gulp before passing the bottle to his friend. Then he started talking. As the time passed, the jug exchanged hands a couple more times, the spirit inside significantly reducing.

“Damn!” William propped his head on his fist, tilting it to look at his lord. Cracks had started appearing in his usually emotionless mien, his face now flushed and showing clear sights of agitation. “Quite the conundrum. Still, I don’t understand. What are you doing here telling me about all this? Gregor is the family man; you should have asked him. Luckily, there are enough male heirs to continue the De Mar line, so I am spared the headaches of marital bliss.”

“Abandoning your liege in times of need? This is treason, Lord Steward!” Noah supported his chin on the jug, hugging the earthware with both hands. Then his brows furrowed, but it was not from anger; there was sadness in his eyes. “I need your advice, Will. The advice of Stone-face William.”

“Cold, tactless, and merciless? I can do that,” shrugged his friend. “You definitely handled the situation poorly, Lord Norden – screaming, thrashing around, barging into a lady’s room. But it would be a lie to say I’m surprised. You have the tact and elegance of an attacking bear. I believe that was what made you the favorite bachelor in the noble circles.”

“I know that much already!” snapped Noah but then mellowed down. “That’s why I usually have you or Duncan do the talking at official events. Otherwise, half of the noble houses in Norden would’ve been long decimated.”

“And I thought the only reason my head hasn’t rolled off my shoulders is because of my diligent paperwork. Mother would be happy to hear that my social skills are being used properly.” William pried the jug out of his lord’s tight grasp and drank some more of the liquor. “Are we finished with the self-flagellation?”

“Shut up. You know very well that this is not the main problem.” Noah rubbed his face and then added quietly. “What should I do with Lorelei?”

“I don’t get the problem?”

The remark won William an ugly look from his friend. The young man sighed and returned the bottle to the neediest patient.

“Do you love the woman?”

“I… I don’t… maybe… it’s just physical craving… most likely… It hasn’t even been that long since I've met her.”

“Oh, come on!” moaned William. “Honestly, you are so dense that you wouldn’t recognize love even if it hits you on the head with a stick. You do love her, otherwise, you wouldn’t act like a fool, risking your life, apologizing to her, and then crawling to me with the expression of a beaten dog.”

Noah didn’t say a word but just sat there, blinking into emptiness and lifting the jug from time to time. Pinching the base of his nose, William continued:

“But then, for the sake of argument, let’s assume that it’s simply your loins burning and you need to scratch an itch. Then just do it. You are her husband before the Gods and the law, it is in your right to demand and receive intimacy from your wife.”

“William!” hissed Noah and his eyes were bloodshot.

“You are not a saint and you know it.” His friend wasn’t even fazed. “You’ve spilled more than enough blood, so what would plucking a flower even be to you? It is not like you will be killing her. And if you are afraid of her conceiving, there are herbs that…”

“Fuck you, De Mar! I should have cut that damn neck of yours years ago,” Noah growled and almost threw the heavy jug at the smirking man before him, “even if only to not listen to the things your foul mouth is spewing.”

“Yea, definitely not in love.” William gave him an unconcerned look, observing his friend's anger with the bemusement and fascination of someone meeting a hunting lion for the first time. “Not even the slightest bit in love, to the point where you suppress your urges and are ready to jump at your long-time friend’s throat for a low-born girl you’ve met but two months ago.”

“You prick, trying to kill yourself by provoking me?” Noah exhaled and tried to ignore the “And I am succeeding” remark from his so-called advisor. Slowly, his flared-up anger dissipated, leaving a bitter aftertaste. “You know very well that I won’t ruin her… or any woman for my personal satisfaction.”

“And how can you be sure she does not have similar yearnings?” William’s question left him gaping.

“W-why would she?”

“Is she not flesh and blood too?”

Noah’s fingers reached for his left cheek, tracing the twists and folds of his burnt skin.

“You are wrong. She would never want to be with someone like me, a murderer, a monster inside and out.”

“Merciful saints!” William almost shouted. “You self-centered moron of a duke! Have you ever asked her? Looked at her properly? Talked to her about something else than the next apology? Have you tried courting her? Spending time with her?”

“I… N-no…” stuttering, Noah hung his head between his shoulders. “You are right. Again. But even if… for some unfathomable reason… by pure chance… she would feel something, it is still imp–”

“Stop it right there!” William stretched out his arm, palm facing his flustered and, undoubtedly, very drunk lord’s face. “Don’t say a word. Let me guess. Marzbane Ilmaz?”

The other man nodded, a swaying hand lifting the jug to his mouth yet again.

“Fathers of Light and Darkness, give me strength! You are an idiot!”

Noah ignored him, his mouth still stuck to the flask, and trying to down it in one go. That’s why he missed the furious look in his friend’s eyes. Still, William’s words managed to penetrate the ever-thickening alcohol mist surrounding his mind.

“Well, it is simple – you either forget about Pandad and your divorce plans, or you carry on with it and keep your current wife as a concubine.”

“Can’t do any of that,” replied Noah with a slight slur. “My brother needs Pandad to fight for the throne. Norden needs Pandad for its trade. And I swore to never take a concubine on my mother’s deathbed.”

“You know you are creating your own problems, right?”

“I do, don’t I,” Noah smiled bitterly. “I hate it. I hate that stupid blood of mine. The royal family. Being the Duke. All these schemes, machinations, wars, backstabbing. And speeches. I hate speeches and dealing with silly nobles with silly demands and silly lives.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” William tried to pry the jug out of his hands but, instead, it fell on the floor with an empty thud. “Are you finished sulking?”

“No. I’m just starting. And you. You haven’t given me a solution. A brilliant, cunning, tricky solution. A Stone-face William solution.”

“What do you expect me to do? Turn you into a commoner? Marry the marzbane in your place?”

“Can you do that?” Noah’s expression brightened.

“I’ll be damned if I could. I told you a long time ago – you are the only one who can be the Duke of Norden. Who can bring this land on a new path. Not me. Not the Crown Prince. You. And with your position come the duty and the sacrifice.”

“A heartless chap indeed,” murmured Noah, his body slightly swaying.

“You came looking for heartless,” reminded him William. He stood up and leaned over his friend. “Your problem my liege,” he poked a finger in his chest, “is that your heart and your mind yearn for two separate things.”

The second jab was at Noah’s forehead, the light touch still enough to send the drunk man toppling on the cot. William threw a blanket over his friend.

“To solve the disharmony, you need to know the root of the problem. You need to know the one causing you such heartache. Maybe she isn’t worth it. Maybe she is. But until you stop seeing her as an object you need to protect and start understanding her as a person that is now part of your life, you will never find inner peace.”

“Easy for you to say,” murmured Noah.

“And easy for you to do. You are the damn Duke of Norden! Whatever you decide, I will follow. And so will others.”

There was no answer. William saw that his friend’s eyes were closed, his breathing – slow and even. He returned to his chair and started organizing some papers in the yellow light of the lantern. A sudden whisper made him pause.

“How t’ hell… ‘r you still able t’ work?”

“Because,” chuckled William and there was unusual warmth in his eyes, “unlike some, I can’t be fooling around. And also, I know when to stop drinking and start pretending. Sleep tight, my friend.”