-The silver-tongued devil -

[26.13.1623]

Windy fir woodlands.

The waning days of autumn had descended upon the land, painting the world in a riotous array of hues. Where once the trees bore cloaks of verdant green, they now donned robes of gold, crimson, and orange, a final flourish of splendour before winter's icy grip tightened. The air carried a crisp chill, laced with the faint scent of woodsmoke wafting on the breeze. Beneath Lia's feet, leaves crunched, releasing the aroma of moist earth into the air as she walked through the forest.

The sun, hanging low in the sky, cast elongated shadows upon the landscape, as if reluctant to relinquish its hold upon the realm. With the fading of the day, the air grew colder, and a gentle mist began to rise from the earth, enveloping the trees in a spectral veil that lent an eerie ambience to the woods. In the distance, the honking of geese heralded their southern journey, while the stirrings of woodland creatures hinted at preparations for the harsh winter ahead. These last days of autumn marked a moment of transition, a fleeting pause before the descent into the darkness of winter—a time tinged with both beauty and melancholy, a reminder of the impermanence of all things.

Even tradition was no exception to this rule.

Arriving at her destination with a steely expression veiling her thoughts, Priestess Lia was flanked by two Nameless, silent sentinels at her side. "You must be the one known as Outhor?" she addressed the neatly attired man standing across the clearing from her.

"Aye," the bandit affirmed. "I hear tell you possess information concerning the slayers of my Master's kin?"

"Payment?" the priestess inquired.

"It's here." Outhor produced a small pouch from his garments, tossing it toward one of Lia's silent companions. The masked figure caught it deftly, inspecting its contents.

"All accounted for, Mistress," the Nameless confirmed, stowing away the pouch. Lia nodded in acknowledgement.

"Your Master's reckless kin provoked Duke Aden of Faywyn," the priestess divulged to the bandit. "The duke acted in defense of the Queen and Crown Princess, resulting in the fool's demise. He now enjoys the protection of the Matriarch of the Creed of the Twins."

The clearing fell silent for a few moments after that as the bandit seemingly digested the news. "...And should we fear reprisal from the Creed should we pursue this matter?"

"The Matriarch's concern lies solely with the duke's welfare," Lia assured. "My mistress pledges covert safeguarding for you, and exemption from the Creed's retribution should you choose to pursue this course."

Once more, silence prevailed as the bandit contemplated his options. "...I gather this 'Matriarch' and your mistress are distinct entities then?"

Lia's smile was glacial. "That distinction need not concern you, Outhor."

"...Indeed," the bandit acquiesced. "Indeed, it need not."

***

[29.13.1623]

Faywyn.

Seething pain rippled across Levi's cheekbone as he crashed through the snow, meeting the frozen ground beneath with a heavy thud. For a fleeting moment, his ironclad form lay crumpled, dazed and battered. With a groan, Levi rolled onto his back, mustering the strength to readjust his helmet amidst the chill air.

"Do you yield, My Lord?" Viscount Lancelot inquired blandly, his Feder plunged into the frost-laden earth. Expressionlessly, he unfastened and then reattached the gauntlet that moments ago had struck Levi's face. Familiar with the undertone of amusement in the viscount's voice, Levi opted to simply ignore the older man.

"Again," the earl declared, pushing himself upright, his armour clinking loudly as snow cascaded from his body.

The viscount pulled his practice sword from whence he stabbed it, twirling it with a fancy flourish as he brought it to bear across his chest before levelling into a fool's guard. "Once more, My Lord?" he queried, peering at Levi from behind his visor.

"Again." Levi leaned into a long point guard, the tip of his sword raised to eye level, before he struck forward, his blade cleaving into a thrust towards the viscount's chest. The viscount casually parried the strike before moving forward with a counter of his own, and for a split second, Levi's breathing stalled as he stared at Lancelot's blade ascending at an angle towards him. Almost subconsciously, he ditched his weapon, a portion of the momentum in his arms bleeding off with the discarded weapon and freeing him ever so slightly as he pushed his buckler into the viscount's strike, deflecting it.

Levi collided with the viscount shoulder-first, grappling the older man by the waist to the floor before immediately stabbing at his face with a blunted dagger he pulled from his belt. Lancelot, in response, crossed his left forearm over the slit of his visor in such an impeccably timely manner that the dull point of the descending blade ricocheted off his arm guard in a shower of sparks before plunging into the dirt overhead.

Levi felt a painful kick to the guts as he was dislodged from his post on top of the viscount. With a roll and another two, he leveraged the momentum of the kick to pull away, creating enough distance to see an already upright Lancelot pouncing upon his prior position.

A flurry of clumsy footwork brought him back to his feet in just enough time to retreat just quickly enough to retreat as Lancelot again bore down upon him sword in hand. He parried the viscount's first strike with his dagger, but the second knocked the weapon away and a third clipped off his helmet by the viewing slit in his visor, dazing and knocking him to the ground where a fourth strike stopped just inches away from his head.

"Again, My Lord?" Lancelot asked, barely winded as he raised his visor.

"Nay," Levi wheezed, "I yield."

"...How fares your armour?"

Levi patted his chest plate with a sigh. "It still feels cumbersome, especially around the bust. But I'm starting to adjust. Almost had you there, didn't I?"

"You're improving," Lancelot conceded as he unclasped the dented armguard covering his left forearm to examine the bruised skin underneath. "But I must say, My Lord," the viscount added with a sigh, "you fight like a rabid animal."

"Many thanks," Levi deadpanned. "I will take that as a compliment. Though to be fair, you forced my hand."

"I did, didn't I? Fair enough," Lancelot replied after a moment of thought, "but I fear your recklessness might soon, one day, be the death of me, more so if you continue improving at this pace. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed one who once abhorred violence as much as yourself could grow to become so dreadfully proficient at it."

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Again, thank you," Levi replied, taking Lancelot's outstretched hand as he pulled himself up to his feet. "I will also take that as a compliment."

"You are welcome, My Lord."

"Well then, I propose we return to your abode at once," Levi said before adding with a faint shiver. "I can already feel the sweat on my skin freezing under all this armour."

…

A few minutes later

Valour Hall, Faywyn.

As Levi entered the viscount's not-so-humble manor, his eyes were drawn to the vaulted ceiling above, supported by sturdy wooden beams. The walls made of hewn stone were rough and unpolished, with a few gaudy tapestries hanging on them. The floors were made of large, rough-hewn stones, worn smooth by years of use.

In the centre of the room stood a long, wooden table, surrounded by benches on either side. The table was set with a light breakfast, Lady Junita herself setting down a basket of fresh-baked bread and bowls of vegetables and fruits. The brass goblets and plates glinted dully in the morning light

At the far end of the hall, a modest fireplace crackled softly, casting warmth and light throughout the space. "Thank you, Lady Junita," Levi expressed his gratitude as he settled into a seat at the table.

"You are most welcome, My Lord," came her gracious reply.

Savouring a sip of the soup before him, Levi basked in the comforting warmth that filled him. "This is exquisite, My Lady," he complimented, taking another sip. "My sincerest compliments to the chef."

"You flatter me, Lord Levi," Lady Junita demurred, as she offered bread from a wicker basket before refilling his cup with mead.

"His Lordship grows rather bold," Lancelot interjected between sips of his drink, joining Levi at the table. "Flirting with my wife right under my nose? Quite bold indeed."

Arched brows rose in surprise on Levi's face before transforming into a smirk tinged with disdain. "If indeed I desired to court your wife―who, may I add, is a paragon of beauty―what gave you the impression you had any say in the matter, old man? Clearly, I am the superior choice, and I trust your lady wife's discernment to make the appropriate selection."

"Indeed, my dear," Lady Junita affirmed, replenishing Lancelot's empty cup. "I'd leave you for His Lordship in a heartbeat if he so much as hinted at it."

"Forgive my impudence, my lady," Lancelot chuckled, to which his wife responded with a disgruntled huff.

"You could take a lesson or two from Lord Levi on how to treat a lady," she admonished as she took her place at the table. "A simple compliment now and then would be a good start, in my opinion."

"...Ah, yes. The soup is... quite pleasant?" the viscount ventured, earning an exasperated glare from his wife.

"With all due respect, My Lord," Lancelot redirected his attention to Levi, amusement dancing in his eyes, "this is entirely your doing."

"You're welcome," Levi quipped, though his tone softened as he turned more serious. "On another note, I haven't seen Javi since earlier. Her lessons should have ended by now. Is she alright?"

"Fret not, My Lord," Lady Junita reassured with a smile. "She threw a fit and missed her morning lessons with Miss Jin, so we rescheduled them. They should be in the study."

Levi's gaze turned contemplative. "Is that so..."

…

The study in Lancelot's manor, though smaller than the Keep's grand chamber, held a charm of its own in Levi's eyes. Rows of leather-bound codices and bundled parchment sheets lined a wooden shelf opposite the door from whence he entered. The stone walls boasted trophies of wild game, and at the end of the room was a table and two chairs upon which two fur-bundled figures sat.

"Le―I mean, Lord Levi!" Javi exclaimed, nearly leaping up before reigning in her excitement with a curtsy. "Good afternoon, My Lord," she added, sneaking a glance at her tutor by her side.

Your posture, Levi heard the lady whisper to Javi―who blushed as she corrected herself―before turning to face him. "Good afternoon, My Lord," she echoed.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Levi greeted with a smile. "I hope you're enjoying yourselves."

"Yes, quite, My Lord," the governess affirmed, turning to Javi. "Isn't that right, young miss?"

"Ah, Uh, Yes?"

"Good," Levi chuckled. "Well, I'd hate to interrupt but Javi…"

"Yes?"

"Your mother wishes to see you."

"...Did I do something wrong?" Javi asked after a momentary pause.

"Did you do something wrong?"

"...No."

Levi simply smiled in response as the pale-faced girl slinked out of the room.

"Governess Jin," the earl said, turning to face Javi's tutoress as the girl departed, "may I have a moment of your time please?"

"Please feel free, My Lord. What does His Lordship wish to speak with me about?"

"...My, you look so much more beautiful in person," he said in passing as he walked towards the table upon which sat an open book. "The Tale of Varietal," Levi said immediately upon recognising a few lines in the book. "It's been ages since I laid eyes upon a copy of this title."

"You flatter me, My Lord," Miss Jin replied with a small blush before turning a baffled gaze towards the book Levi was leafing through. "You have read it?"

"Yes, I have read all of Countess Leslie's books. She is quite an exemplary writer," Levi commended earning a smile from the governess. "That aside, I would like to know if my lady would be free tonight perhaps?"

"Yes, I will be, My Lord. Why?"

"Wonderful. I'm well aware I have only just recently made your acquaintance and this may be a strike of pure lunacy, but would you like to join me in my hovel for a cup of fine wine later today? If thy codpiece tells it true, I'd much enjoy a night spent knowing you."

"You jest, My lord," Miss Jin replied with a small laugh, but Levi simply stared back dourly as he awaited her reply.

"...Oh. Oh my," she whispered, a look of realisation dawning upon her. The governess flushed red as she discreetly peeked at the door.

"My Lord, you mean―"

"Yes, Miss Jin," Levi interjected politely, "this lord wishes to take a gander beneath your frock so I may so deeply bury my phallus in thy hindquarters, may hap who retrieves it be crowned Divine Ruler of the Seven kingdoms."

"...Oh," the governess croaked as she peeked again at the door, a subtle shiver in her voice. "Oh my."

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Disclosable information

The Tale of Varietal is a tragic love story by Leslie Aiden, a renowned Arien scholar. It was based on the tale of a naive young noblelady who sought the affection of a villainous "Demon Lord". Due to the soul-stirring emotional implications the story showcased, it became a very popular piece of literary work amongst the many aristocratic women of Udoris.