The sky was painted a beautiful pink and purple as the sun set in the distance and fat clouds dotted the sky. As the days ended, the light and its warm rays were slowly sinking into the horizon.
It seemed impossible, but as nighttime approached, the market square seemed only to grow in commotion and life.
Street musicians started up with a bright tune as young scholars took to debating on the streets.
The educated young men delighted in showing off their knowledge to the gathering crowds… especially in front of the wide eyes of the young noblewomen.
The group of Wenge serving girls stopped in front of one such show. The lead girl, whose face was covered in a veil, stood taller than the others. The young woman carried a certain authority in her movements which were graceful yet laced with power. She motioned for the others to also stop and listen. The girls joined the already-gathered crowd, trying to squeeze their way to a better viewing point.
The first scholar puffed up his chest. He was Asinoro, the son of the great Vellward family. And if that wasn’t good enough, his sister was engaged to the crown prince! The thought did little to tamp down his nerves, but he had to try as he recited the title and power of his family in his mind like a mantra.
The young man’s eyes glanced quickly at one of the young maidens in the crowd. The girl had long brown hair and a bright pink bow tied in her hair. The servant by her side tried to tug away but the lady insisted on staying. When their eyes met, the young woman waved an excited hand. Asinoro raised his hand, returning the gesture. Oh, how he wished to impress her.
He turned his attention back to the other scholar, a chubby young man of the Langard family: Rufus.
The two young men were classmates at the Royal Academy. No one would ever call Rufus or Asinoro friends, but from school to court events, they both had the unfortunate problem of seeing one another everywhere. To put it frankly, the two hated one another. In the crowd of commoners and peasant celebrations, the two could finally duel it out in the only way they knew how to... Debate.
Rufus sneered, “Tell me, Vellward, if a man is injured in a riding accident and can no longer contribute to society, has his value increased, decreased, or stayed the same?” Rufus gestured grandly to the crowd, winking at the group of Wenge serving girls. Most of them looked startled. Others scoffed. All of them looked away... except for one.
After only a brief pause, Asinoro crossed his arms. “Obviously, it has decreased!” The young son of Vellward steeled himself. Now that the answer was out, he would have to hope he could defend it.
“Oh,” taunted the other man. “And what makes you say that?”
Asinoro knew better than to rush into the question. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, it’s quite obvious, isn’t it?”
The young scholar began to piece together his defense as he went. “Assuming they can no longer contribute to society, how could their value increase? If a horse has broken legs, surely you would not say its value has increased. Sure, you could possibly make glue from its carcass, but you also could have done that if the horse was alive and well.”
Asinoro pointed a triumphant finger in the air. “In fact!” He smacked his lips together. “One could even say that its value has decreased as the horse that could have worked and been made into glue, can now only be used to make glue.”
The gathered crowd clapped their hands together. It made sense. The boy tried not to preen when he saw the object of his affection cheer. The girl was cheering the loudest in the crowd and smiled excitedly.
Rufus shook their head. The son of the Langard snorted, “But how can you know that it was not the will of the gods that the horse broke its legs? Perhaps the horse was destined since its birth to live a fate where it would one day break its legs.”
The young man crossed his arms. “In that sense, would the horse not have retained the same value that it always had? That of a one-day broken-legged horse?”
Silence washed over the crowd as they digested the words. Eager eyes darted between the two young men. Vellward versus Langard. Who would win?
The onlookers glanced at one another. Although the son of Vellward started strong, the Langard boy raised a fair point. Were the fate of living things set in stone?
Asinoro sucked on the side of his cheek. The young scholar mulled over the question. Of course, the tricky bastard would use something like fate in his defense! His eyes drifted over the crowd, hoping to find inspiration for a rebuttal. The young man’s eyes landed on a broken bucket. The wood was rotting and there was a hole on its side. The spilled water puddled around it and its discarded state on the ground was a sure sign of abandonment by its owner. The pieces were coming together.
Smirking, Asinoro puffed up once more. The young scholar laughed breezily. “Ah, but your question was not as to whether the fate of the broken was destined to be broken, but whether its value had increased or decreased.
He sauntered over to Rufus. “In that sense, no matter the fate of the horse, if its legs are broken, its value has decreased.”
Walking over, he picked up the broken bucket and held the item in the air for all to see.
“Perhaps this bucket was always destined to be broken, but regardless of it, when it was whole, it aided a maid in carrying water. But now that it is broken, it can no longer carry out that task.”
“If its value was the same, would the bucket not have been kept?”
The crowd nodded along. It was true. People did not keep useless things.
The young man tossed the broken bucket at his adversary. Rufus flailed, struggling to catch the flying object.
“But, alas, it is useless and tossed aside… just like your defense,” finished Asinoro. He smirked proudly.
The Langard boy gaped.
Face reddening, the other scholar turned tail and stormed off, barking at the people in his way as he shoved past them. The crowd booed behind him.
Meanwhile, cheers erupted for the first scholar. Asinoro beamed as the rush of victory washed over him.
The son of Vellward bowed, accepting the praise with a wide smile. Asinoro couldn’t stop the giddy feeling from erupting in his chest.
Other scholars clapped him on the back and congratulated the young man on the victory, hailing him as the scholar of Morning Day. Chants of "Scholar of the Morning Day" filled the square. The scholar lifted his eyes to approach his crush. The girl smiled at him bashfully. She played with her hair, twirling in her fingers.
Asinoro took a step forward but a voice halted him in place.
“I disagree,” a booming voice called out. The words were clear but curled with a hint of a foreign accent.
All eyes turned towards the maid with the veil on her face.
Despite obscuring most of her features, the veil could not hide how her eyes were sharp and clear. Her back was straight and shoulders set back. Although she appeared quite relaxed, it seemed born of a confidence that made others wary of crossing her. Still, she wore the clothes of a servant. The white silk although beautiful, was not made of any exquisite material and there were mud stains and wrinkles in the aged cloth.
The other maids looked nervously at one another, but none dared to stop her. The woman rolled her shoulders as if physically preparing for battle. Although she was of a normal height, she seemed to tower over others and the crowd parted easily for her. She took a step forward and picked up the bucket.
The crowd murmured in excitement. Was this a rematch?
Lifting the bucket, the maid tilted their head, eyes challenging the young man. “Care to hear my thoughts?”
The scholar scratched his neck and chuckled awkwardly. This had never happened before. He was not a cruel man and did not want to injure the maid's pride. But he also couldn't risk his own honor.
The young man waved off the maid. Leaning in, Asinoro said softly,. “Go home before you hurt yourself, little maid. Leave the philosophies to the educated men lest you injure your own pride.”
Nodding in agreement, the people close enough to hear the exchange began to call for her to leave.
“Go home!”
“Stop trying to grab attention!”
The woman looked around at the jeering crowd but she seemed unfazed. In fact, her eyebrows rose, and she almost looked… amused.
A voice cut through the clamor. “Let her speak!” A hint of a blue cloak shimmered in the crowd, but it was hard to locate the speaker.
The crowd silenced. There was an idea! If the scholar of the Morning Day couldn’t even beat a maid, what type of mighty scholar was he? The group quickly changed their tune.
“That’s right! Let her speak!”
“Let’s hear what the girl has to say!”
The young scholar felt cold beads of sweat run down his neck. Sharp eyes flickered over to him as the maid seemed to smirk under the veil. He shivered. A heavy sense of foreboding ran through his veins. Why did he feel like a rabbit fallen into a hunter’s trap?
The maid took his silence for agreement. She set the bucket down gently. “Ladies and gentlemen, the question did not ask of the value of the broken to society, but of its value in its entirety.”
“So?” someone questioned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
The maid swept her arms out dramatically. “Let us take the broken-legged horse as an example.”
She continued, “It may be true that the horse can no longer be used in the fields or ridden, but what if the horse belonged to the king?”
The crowd stared at the woman. Where was she going with this?
“What if the horse was the sole thing that the king loved and its loss would have him follow it to his grave? Would the mere presence of this horse, broken-legged or not, lose value then?” She turned to face the scholar. “Am I wrong, scholar?”
The scholar spluttered, “No, but that is only in one instance!”
“Not so,” countered the maid. “Every being is in relation to another in some way, shape, or form. Perhaps to society, the broken-legged horse would lose its value, but which of you has not cried over a dying dog, injured friend, or sick parents? Did their weakness lose your love?”
Her voice was powerful and filled the space with passion and fire. She grasped her heart.
“We are connected to one another in more than just one way. Our brokenness does not change that.”
“In fact, it only heightens it.” The maid stepped forward. “Between a broken horse and a well-bodied horse, which owner feels more clearly its value?” She turned towards the crowd. “The strongest of steel are the ones that have been tempered most."
Awe and silence rippled through the square.
The maid held a faraway look in her eyes. "Sometimes, it is only the broken that know how to rise after tragedy.”
The young woman's words echoed through the square. She turned to point an accusing finger at the young scholar. “It was the broken bucket that gave you inspiration and victory against an opponent.”
The maid stepped forward and placed the bucket in the gaping Asinoro’s hands. “Sometimes a broken-legged horse who has to fight for its survival will know more than an educated scholar." She pat his shoulders, almost mentor-like in the action. "Do not fear loss or imperfection. A scholar that has never lost will never learn... for he has seen too little of the world.”
“The broken strengthens and prevails or it would be nothing.” The maid’s eyes were downcast as she murmured, “Because when the world breaks us, we must do all that we can to find value where there may be nothing.”
The rowdy group silenced at her words. In the crowd, the servants and peasants who had been listening to the debate took pause. They thought of their own hardships and struggles. At that moment, they felt a strange kinship to the foolish but brave maid. Which of them had not lost and had to overcome and become stronger?
A sudden applause grew in the crowd until the whole audience began to clap with respect and awe. The thundering noise echoed in the square.
To his credit, Asinoro merely looked shocked. Who would have expected that a maid could be so eloquent and sharp. He shook his head and offered a hand out to the maid. "Well said, ma'am." He smiled sheepishly. "It seems there is much I have to learn."
The amber eyes gleamed, under the veil, it seemed that she was shooting a smile at him. The maid took the offered hand. The grip was strong and Asinoro tried to hide his pained wince.
Her eyes drifted over to the frowning noblewoman. She jerked her head to her. "Yes, but you have a much more important task before that."
Gulping, in front of the eyes of so many, Asinoro stumbled towards the girl. He held out a hand and offered, "My lady, this scholar is still young and foolish, but it would be this fool's greatest honor to spend Morning Day in your presence."
The girl merely turned and undid the ribbon in her hair. Face burning, she tied it around a shocked and equally red Asinoro's wrists.
The square erupted with noise and cheers. The maid clapped and let out a loud, shrill whistle. Suddnely, the crowd gathered around, pressing coins into her hands. The maid look baffled but excited.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"Do me next, matchmaker!"
"I have a lady love I would like to woo, as well!"
"Hold it!" The maid held up a hand. The crowd stilled. The young woman tilted her head. "Well, form a line so we can do this?"
The excitement and clamor reignited as a line formed. The maid looked happily at the coin in her hands, studying the metal in the light.
"Hey! What are you guys doing there!" A guard in the distance pointed his spear at the crowd. "Who's causing all this ruckus?"
"Get away! Hurry!"
The crowd quickly ran in different directions, dispersing faster than they formed. One of them paused and whispered to the maid. "Best run before they catch you!"
"Girl! Don't you dare move!" The guard, with other guards gathering from his call, started towards the young woman. "You're coming with us! Don't move!"
The maid's eyes widened. Shooting a look at the other maids, she nodded and then sprinted off into the alley.
The guards protested loudly, but to her credit, the maid was fast and quickly blended in with the huge crowds in the streets.
A pair of cold blue eyes followed her retreating form.
—
The maid stumbled into the crowded bar. The sun had since set and many of the capital’s occupants found themselves in the company of good ale. Despite running for a good half-hour, she was barely out of breath. If anything, she looked even more spirited. Her eyes landed on the bar table.
The fiddler strummed a cheery tune as music filled the vibrant room.
Elbowing past the drunkards and squeezing between the different crowds, the young woman soon found herself at the bar table. She squinted at the foreign letters engraved on the wooden board above.
The maid cursed.
Catching sight of the new customer, the barkeeper walked over. He cocked his head to the side and studied the newcomer.
Although she wore the simple attire of a servant, there was something regal about the way the young woman held herself. The barkeeper wondered where she was from and her identity. Was this some rebellious lady from a great house?
He smiled and started, “What can I-“
“The strongest you got.” As opposed to the lean build, the voice was booming and strong. The accent denoted them as a foreigner but the barkeeper couldn’t find himself to really take notice of that… or look away from the bright eyes glancing up from the veil to meet his.
The barkeeper blushed. “Sure, sure thing, ma’am” he stammered out. The man barely held himself back from saluting.
The woman knocked on the table. “Good man,” she chuckled, taking a wide seat on the bar stool.
However, a childlike gleam came into her eyes when she saw the drink. Tapping the table excitedly, she couldn't snatch the jug up fast enough. When she was handed her drink, the woman gulped it down in a single shot.
The barkeeper couldn't stop staring.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, the maid let out a hearty burp. Shaking her head, she murmured, “Tastes like dog’s shit.” She turned to the barkeeper and commanded, “Another.”
The man gawked. He had never seen a woman… sit so much like a man.
“Right… right away,” he promised stutteringly, finding it hard to form coherent words.
As the man left, the maid sighed, suddenly bored. There was so much left to see in the city but the guards had ruined that plan.
Suddenly, a hand reached out to tap her shoulders.
Tensing, her eyes lifted to meet the towering man's. His muscles practically bulged out of his skin and there was little space between his eyes. He sneered, displaying some of his missing teeth.
“Scram lady.” His spittle flew everywhere as he spoke. “You’re in my seat.”
There was a pause.
The other patrons turned away from their own conversations to stare at the drama. The burly man's name was Gumly. He had been a deviant in his youth and was now a Grade-A nuisance in his prime. He was simultaneously one of the most annoying but toughest guys in town. No one dared to mess with him.
“I’m… in your seat?” Maybe it was the accent, but the woman sounded more amused than intimidated by the giant behemoth of a man,
“Yes,” grunted Gumly. “And you better move if you know what’s good for you.” He cracked his knuckles menacingly.
“Oh yeah?” The maid raised an eyebrow. Underneath the veil, her lips lifted into an excited smirk.
“Make me.”
—
Nikolai stepped up to the door of the crowded bar. He had seen the maid enter earlier. The young man paused.
She seemed like a good target to inquire for more information on the Raven General.
He needed to know if Wenge was involved in the queen’s plans and whether it would affect his plan and Feldgrau. To his knowledge, Rewanna and Fadye had never been on good terms. Wenge was practically an enemy in all but name. For Fadye to send his heir...What could possibly lead them to cooperate now? And why now? If it was for what he thought it was, the thought made Nikolai frown. The lord adjusted his blue cloak. Gathering information would be their best chance at trying to gain the upper hand.
Nikolai had seen how the other maids deferred to the. young woman. It was likely she was the head of their group. Plus, the debate had intrigued him. She was very well-spoken for a servant. If he was lucky, she might even be a close confidant to the capital’s esteemed guest.
Loud cheers sounded from inside the bar.
The lord's eyes narrowed. What could possibly have all the patrons so riled up?
“You dirty foreign wrench!” came a loud bellow. It was followed by the sound of crashing wood.
Nikolai pursed his lips. Grabbing a hold of the door, he burst into the bar.
His eyes darted around. He took in the scene before him. The lord paused. His brain faltered as it struggled to process what he was seeing.
The maid sat at one of the tables, straddling the bar stool despite the dress she was wearing. Her toned bicep was out for all to see as she propped her arm up against the wood.
A large, muscular man sat across from her, head. He banged his head against the table as the maid rose an eyebrow and sipped her ale like it was water.
Suddenly, the buff man raised his head and held out his arm against her. Slamming it on the table, he grunted… as if to engage in an arm wrestle.
The maid took a large swig from her jug of ale. She wiped her soiled face against her shoulder. The young woman shook her head at the muscular man.
Patting his shoulders comfortingly, she said, “It is unbefitting of you to be a sore loser, Gumly.” Her accented words were lilting, almost musical in nature. “Do not feel too disheartened. Where I am from, they call me the Thumbsmasher.”
For some reason, Nikolai and the other patrons had no doubt of that.
“How?” wailed Gumly, if the maid’s words were to be believed. The huge man hung his head and sniffed pitifully. "How could you have beat me?"
In a practiced motion, the maid gestured for the barkeeper to refill her jug, (the man practically tripped over himself as if he couldn’t fill it up fast enough).
Sighing, she said, “Gumly, my father is the strongest man I know, and even he cannot best me in a game of smashing thumbs.”
“Lady, please tell me!" Gumly fell to his knees, basically kotowing to the maid. "How do I get stronger?” The man's eyes shined with unshed tears. “Please! Teach me your ways.”
The lady chugged down her… Nikolai’s eyes glanced across her table to count the row of jugs… Ninth jug of ale!
Belching loudly, to the amusement of all the patrons, the maid crossed her arms. The young woman’s cheeks were barely flushed! She shot Gumly a serious look. “You really want to know?”
Gumly nodded so fast it seemed his head almost snapped off. The rest of the bar leaned in eagerly as well.
The maid leaned back into her seat, tipping the chair so that it only sat on two of its legs. She plopped her feet on the lacquered wood of the table, ignoring the barkeeper’s pained squeak.
“Well, Gumly,” the young woman kept her eyes trained on the kneeling man. “You must go out beyond your precious wall, and you must find, eleven,” she paused, holding out her fingers but then giving up when she realized she didn’t have enough. “Not eight, not ten, but eleven! Wolves! Eleven full grown wolves."
Straddling her stool, she continued meancingly. "And you take those eleven wolves,” she made a grappling motion, stumbling to her feet. “And you wrestle them into unconsciousness with your bare hands. And you must rip the head of their leader with your bare hands, bring it to their forest and scare all the other wolves away.” She stalked straight up to Gumly and tapped his forehead with her finger. “You do that, Gum-Gum… You do that, and you’ll be the next Thumbsmasher.”
The bar fell dead silent. Someone in the back dropped their jug. The metal clanged and rolled noisiliy in the silence.
The maid looked around at the sudden change.
Everyone watched with bated breath.
Suddenly, she burst into laughter, clutching her sides. “Ah-Haha! Haha! You should see the look on your faces!”
Nikolai winced at the volume. He scowled, rubbing his ears.
“Gosh, do you really think I wrestled eleven wolves? You’re all crazier than I am!”
Following her lead, Gumly and the others began to laugh as well. That’s right. Did they really believe a woman, no matter how good at arm wrestling, really wrestled eleven wolves?
The maid shook her head. “Just do your push-ups and keep practicing. And straighten up that attitude of yours.” She regarded him seriously. “You’re almost there, Gumly. One day, I know you’ll surpass me.”
The grown man looked seconds away from bawling his eyes out. "Really?" he said, voice nasally from the unshed tears.
“If you are serious about growing strong…” The woman turned to settle back in her chair. “Stop by the castle one of these days and I can write up a training regiment for you. I got nothing better to do, anyways.” She emptied the jug of ale in her mouth and sighed when there wasn’t even a drop left.
Gumly looked at her with awe and rspect glistening in his eyes. He sniffed. “Thank you, Thumbsmasher.” Hurrying to his feet, he bowed, "I will go and start practicing now!" and hurried away.
Seeing that the show was over (and no one wanted to risk getting their thumbs smashed) the crowd dissipated, flowing back to their own groups and conversations.
The maid stared back into the bottom of her cups. Her brows furrowed.
“It seems you’ve garnered quite a reputation on your first day,” commented a voice.
Eyes narrowing, the maid’s hand fell to her side. She grasped at air.
Nikolai cataloged the action for future reference. Was she used to carrying something? A weapon, perhaps? Still, he kept his form relaxed, almost lazy.
The maid regarded him suspiciously. “And why would a beautiful man such as yourself be keeping track of me?” Despite the veil, her amber eyes burned brightly. "I assure you I am of no interest to a handsome lord."
Nikolai was slightly taken aback by the… compliment? Was it a strategy to throw him off?
A certain familiarity tugged at the lord’s gut. Had he met the maid somewhere before? Those eyes…
The young man held up his hands placatingly. “I assure you. I’m merely an admirer,”
The maid froze. Then, she let out a spirited laugh. “Oh. Well, in that case, I admire you as well.” She crossed her arms and leaned forward enthusiastically. "I could swim in your eyes, lord. You should thank your lady mother."
Nikolai almost tripped on air. This woman… Was she flirting with him? However, he was starting to get the feeling that blunt statements were just a preferred speaking style for her. He cleared his thoughts and tried to focus back on the task at hand.
Watching his reactions silently, the maid paused for a moment more before turning back in her seat. “How did you know I just arrived?” Her words were thrown out flippantly, but Nikolai could see the tense set of her shoulders. She kept a good grip on the jug, as if waiting to use it as a weapon.
The young man shrugged. He settled for the truth. “I watched the Wenge delegation arrive earlier.” He paused before adding, “And your accent is familiar.”
The maid covered her mouth as if the thought of her accent giving her away hadn’t occurred to her. She tilted her head, gazing at him with curiousity.
“Don’t worry.” Nikolai explained, “Most wouldn’t notice. I only knew because I am from Feldgrau. Some of the tribes come to trade at the Great Wall.”
That seemed to pique the young woman’s interest. She turned to face him, leaning into his space. Nikolai refrained from leaning back. He wouldn’t be intimidated!
“You are from the land of the Great Wall?” Despite their closeness, her voice was booming.
Nikolai winced internally. Was this woman always so loud? He managed to let out a short nod.
Taking pity on him, the maid retreated back into her own space. Her fingers tapped the wooden table as she hummed consideringly. “Feldgrau… So that’s what it’s called. You know, we always just called it Demonland, hah.”
It took everything in Nikolai to school his expression into one of indifference. He let out a dry laugh. “You have quite the sense of humor, Miss…”
The woman scratched her head, as if confused. Suddenly, her cheeks reddened. “Ah, you want to know my name! Uhm” she paused, scratching her chin. Her voice was almost at a normal volume. “Well, it’s um. Oh! It’s Iliana!”
At the mention of his mother's name, Nikolai froze. Did the maid know who he was? Was this a test? His eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
Unperturbed by his change, the maid nodded eagerly. “My name. It’s Iliana. I am part of the general’s… uhm, entourage.”
Swallowing, Nikolai let out a considering hum. Were there really such coincidences in the world? “My mother was named Iliana.”
The maid's eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Is it a common name in this kingdom? I was unaware of that.”
Nikolai’s guard lowered slightly. “You can say that… It was the name of the late queen. Although, I’m afraid she’s more a cautionary tale than someone most aspire to be.”
The maid lowered her head. The young woman’s brows furrowed. “I am sorry to hear that. I had always been told that the queen was a great woman.” There was a note of genuine sorrow in her voice.
Nikolai chuckled coldly. But on the inside, his heart squeezed sadly. “That’s not a common sentiment, I would love to know which group you’ve been around to get such an idea.” He paused, noting the sleepy glaze in the other’s eyes. He had to hurry. “If it helps, those of Feldgrau also hold her in kinder regards.”
The maid straightened. She turned to face Nikolai excitedly. “That is right! You are from Demon…I mean, Feldgrau!” She paused, looking away. "Stop looking at me so intently." The young woman hid her flaming cheeks.
Nikolai could make out the faint pink even with the veil. For someone who was usually so brash, the contrast was… cute. He froze, mortified by his own observation.
“Say, do you know the Lord of Feldgrau?” asked the young woman. She was staring at him once more.
Said Lord of Feldgrau was dragged out of his own thoughts.
“In a way, but not terribly familiarly,” he offered vaguely.
"I suppose it would have been a stretch." The maid sighed, “Then can you tell me about the land? How are the people?”
Nikolai was slightly taken aback by the question. Very few outside of Feldgrau were actually interested. “It is… not an easy land,” he decided. “The people have suffered and they have had to adapt because of it. But they are good people. A loving people.”
He was unaware of the softness in his voice and the small smile on his face. But the maid stared intently at it, as if intrigued.
Nikolai shook his head fondly. “If someone says they hate you, they hate you. But if they see you as a friend, they would sooner take a stab to the heart than betray you.” He admitted, "It takes a while to get used to but it is not a bad thing, I don't think."
“Winters are harsh, springs are hot. But the first snowfall and the first harvest...” his usually blank and indifferent voice filled with gentleness. “It’s the most beautiful sight in the entire world.” His voice took a hardened edge. "I would do anything to defend it."
"I too would defend my people till the death," murmured the maid as if she understood the steady passion and protectiveness that thrummed in Nikolai's veins.
Who was she really, he wondered. The more they spoke, it seemed the less he knew.
A soft silence enveloped the two.
“You seem very fond of it,” Iliana’s voice was slightly softer than normal but loud enough to break Nikolai out of his reverie. "Feldgrau, that is."
The lord coughed and cleared his throat. “I suppose I am.” Taking a sip of the ale, he stared at her. “So, Iliana, why the fascination with Feldgrau?”
His instinct flared warningly. This was no coincidence. Especially not if the queen was involved.
To his surprise, the young woman was not set off by his question, her face remained relaxed. Amber eyes regarded him curiously but didn’t seem to find what they were searching for.
“I figured it would be obvious.” The young woman shrugged nonchalantly.
Nikolai’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
There was a pause as both waited for the other to elaborate. Finally, it was the maid that broke the silence.
“You really do not know?... I thought it was common knowledge." The young woman stared at him, baffled at his confusion. “The General is marrying into your land.”
Nikolai choked on his drink. WHAT?