Beyeth Quoro was freaking out. Only on the inside of course. On the outside she looked like a normal, respectable young noblewoman.
It does not do for a Lady to be seen as… abnormal.
Beyeth mockingly mimicked her mother in her thoughts. Because clearly, the Young Miss of the Quoro House thought, if anyone is abnormal it is Syron Forrester! He traipsed around the grounds without a care in the world, smiling at everyone like they were the most important person in his life. He had made her stop breathing three times with his smiles since she had first encountered him. It was not fair that he could exert such authority over her when she was always going to be relegated to being the ‘sister-in-law’.
He had changed drastically from the last time they had met, which she did not know how to reconcile since she had once rather inappropriately fancied him. It was only inappropriate because Cynthia, her younger sister, had begged their parents to allow Cynthia to become the Young Master of the Forrester’s betrothed. She succeeded too, getting them to agree to preliminary match matching despite Beyeth’s admittedly lukewarm refute. She may admire the Young Master… but she had not gotten the courage to request the betrothal and lost out to a then six-year-old that was yet to understand the simple rules of declaring entitlement. You do not do that when clearly someone else wants it more! Even worse… by missing her chance at the engagement, Beyeth’s personal stock within her own family plummeted.
So now she found herself in the Forrester’s impressive library, sitting at a table covered in grids and loose sheets of paper describing the so called ‘stats’ of various entities, and attempting to make sense of the rather complicated game her unrequited ‘prince’ was trying to coax her into understanding. She tried hard to wrap her head around it as he was so clearly invested in her enjoyment, but she kept becoming distracted by the various images and sounds he would create to ‘encourage realism’.
The three other women at the table also rubbed Beyeth the wrong way. Not only did they already understand the game he was trying to teach her, but they were also entirely too mirthful about every joke he said, even if it was clever. He seemed to soak in their mirth like a sponge, his happiness infectious and spreading to everyone before coming back and enabling him once again. He ‘liked’ making these other women happy, and Beyeth just wanted to stab them for it. The Young Master of the Forrester’s was always antisocial, dour, and stoic. His gloominess only a part of his overabundant charm. Now he was like a beam of sunlight, radiating his warmth over everyone and everything, daring anyone to stare at him too long before blinding them with his radiance. She could not help but imagine…
“Beyeth, you’re still on fire.” The Young Master said with another of his sultry and unfair grins, once again taking her breath away. Since the moment she encountered him out on the lawn, he took control of her, and she hated herself for that weakness. If but for a moment, she hoped to level her gaze into his and see reflected in his eyes his own equal. Alas, a coward’s procrastination ensured to her that would never be the case. She would never be the Lady Forrester.
* * * *
“I… um… is she okay?” The Young Master asked with sincere concern, pausing the illusions he had made and looking closer at the older sister of his possible future wife. He was concerned she had a rather serious fever since her face was as red as a tomato and she seemed to be in a daze. The maids giggled and the knight just smirked knowingly.
“I believe the Young Miss to be fine, Young Master. Just give her a chance to grow accustomed to your illusions. They are admittedly rather off-putting to the uninitiated.” The knight said, her shoulders shaking slightly in repressed laughter. Syron narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah… go ahead and call for my mother anyway, Knight. You weren’t doing a very good job protecting the nooby adventurer scion in the game, the least you can do is help her in real life.” Syron intoned almost dangerously. He had to flaunt rank here and be slightly dickish, despite hating it, in an attempt to appease a possibly angry noble. Even if she truly wasn’t ill, the maids and knight were openly mocking a Young Miss from another House. He felt pretty guilty, since he himself was the one that insisted on such a lax attitude pertaining to social standards, but you still do not laugh and poke fun at a seemingly stupefied lady. She can cause serious social backlash if she felt like it. He’ll just have to explain himself to the maids and knight when the delegation left for the day. Besides… what else could it be besides feeling sick? Lovesick? That’s just ridiculous.
Though in the women’s defense… he had told Miss Beyeth she was ‘on fire’ three times before giving up. If she’s sick, that’s sad. If she’s just got clouds for brains… well, that’s still sad. A couple minutes later the Lady Forrester arrived at the library along with another woman dressed in fine apparel and a girl of maybe ten years old trailing behind. Upon seeing Syron, the girl dashed into the room and cried “Syron! I have missed you!” and made to lunge at him.
Perhaps feeling gun shy due to recent occurrences, Syron roughly pushed away from the table and got a chair between him and the young girl possibly assaulting him. Realizing it was probably dumb to immediately assume a ten year was trying to stab him, he couldn’t help but remember that time a short while ago that a normal teenage looking girl tried to stab him. The void she left in his room still brought him no small amount of shivers. He had even considered moving to a different room.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Yes… hello. As you clearly already know, I’m Syron Forrester. To whom am I speaking with?” Syron asked defensively while his mother looked over a confused and upset Beyeth. Apparently she had regained focus at some point, but it was when Syron wasn’t paying attention to her. She looked… less like she was feverish and more like she was embarrassed now.
“Funny, Syron, but I have not seen you in over a year and I am not in the mood for it!” The haughty girl declared. Syron just blinked at her.
Ah… of course she’s acting like she’s important to me. This is Cynthia, isn’t it? She had the same dirty blonde hair of Beyeth. In fact, she just looks like a Beyeth that hasn’t gone through puberty yet.
“You must be the Young Miss of the Quoro House. I assure you, in no uncertain terms, that I was not playing a joke on you. I’m afraid I’ve lost my memories from before my coma, and have no idea who you are. I would ask you refrain from making sudden lunging motions at me, since I’ve just discovered I apparently have P.T.S.D. from being nearly murdered.” The girl looked shocked and angry. Shocked, he understood… but angry was a bit of a stretch, right?
“What is she even doing here? We left her at the carriage!” Cynthia yelled as she pointed exaggeratedly at Beyeth, whom looked upset like she was caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.
“I invited her here to play a game with me after I found her wandering the hedge maze outside my bedroom window. I’m not certain as to what is going on exactly, but we are in a library so I request that you keep your voice down.” Syron said icily. This Young Miss he was apparently supposed to marry was acting like… well, come to think of it, she was acting like a spoiled ten-year-old. Noble engagements are weird.
Well, nevermind. There is no use in getting upset about this girl. She’s just a child. Shame on me for letting it go to my head so quick. Though… what the hell is up with them leaving a kid in a carriage? That’s child abuse!
Cynthia, whom Syron had just remembered her name again, had a face like an open book. She once again looked stunned, though this time the anger was replaced with desperate sadness. Moments later her face puckered up and she burst into tears. The woman accompanying The Lady Forrester peeled away from looking at Beyeth and came to check on Cynthia.
They look fairly similar… is she their mother?
Between sobs, Cynthia started muttering “Syron! It’s me!”.
“Young Miss… I’m sorry if I have offended you in some way… but I really don’t know who you are at all. I only knew that someone that I was nearly engaged to belonging to the Quoro House would be visiting today. Once we have ascertained that Young Miss Beyeth is healthy and hale, I intend to continue our game. I ask that all uninvolved parties please leave the library at that time. Of course, you can stay if you want Mother. I can’t very well kick you out of a room in your own house.”
“Very well, Syron, I too will play.” Cynthia declared, invoking an immediate internal groan from Syron. Though, on second thought, it’s not like he cared if there were five people playing versus four as long as she actually played properly. In fact, the scenario he had created of “three veteran adventurers teaming up with a noble scion wishing to prove her worth in combat against monsters” could feasibly include two protection targets. Syron had whispered to the two maids and the knight with an illusion next to their ears that the pass and fail criteria of the scenario was determined not on a party wipe, but solely on Beyeth’s scion character surviving the ordeal. The maids were a little confused, but the Knight seemed to get it pretty quickly. After all, escorting nobles is what a personal Knight does.
“Um… sister… you can play my character. I’ll excuse myself.” Beyeth said, now far calmer and no longer looking like a cooked lobster.
“Hm… I’d rather you stay instead. I’ve already gone through the trouble of explaining the rules to you, after all. If you two can get along though, I don’t mind both of you.” Syron said, not really sure why he was so irrationally irritated with Cynthia, but going along with his mood anyway. Based on what he had heard about Cynthia being upset that Beyeth wasn’t locked in a carriage or some such, and how Beyeth was just willing to give up her spot for her little sister… the dynamic just pissed him off. She’s almost acting like she’s the abused stepchild, and that sort of behavior just isn’t acceptable.
“No, my betrothed… we don’t need my sister here. In fact, we should just play something together, just the two of us!” Cynthia declared proudly, like she had just thought of an amazing alternative. Unfortunately for her, Syron really didn’t like her.
Syron sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he had to deal with this. His anger, though very unlike him to even be present, was refusing to abate. So he released it.
“You shouldn’t speak so freely. I am under the impression that we were never engaged, only that you were a candidate. In fact, do not speak my name so casually. That is a right I grant only to my mother and players. I am not sure what I saw in you before, but I certainly don’t see it now. I am also not the boy you knew, so it would be preferable if you acknowledged that to yourself. You are acting like a spoiled brat within my own sanctuary, and you are interrupting my game!” Syron intoned quietly yet forcefully, crescendoing into what most others thought to be a rather odd point to end on. Clearly, he had his priorities in an order no one else seemed to share. Syron’s mother, however, flashed unrestrained glee for the barest of moments before once again putting on her impassive mask.
“Ehreese, Cynthia, let us return to the parlor and have another cup of tea, shall we? My son’s games can sometimes stretch on for quite a while.” The Lady said, leading a conflicted Ehreese and a thunderstruck Cynthia out of the library. The Lady chuckled to herself as she shut the door to the library.
Once his mother had left with Lady Quoro and her daughter, his righteous indignation and anger ebbed to nothing in a matter of moments. Smiling once again while trying to resuscitate a horrible situation, Syron looked over at Beyeth while he flared his illusions on the table back to life.
“You’re still on fire.”