“So, young Lord Bragg. Tell me what your fishing village was like.”
He’d barely made it halfway through the first bite of his plate before Alistair Silver addressed him directly. He lowered his fork, leaning forward and craning his neck awkwardly to the left where he could just barely make out the gold of the man’s robes. Alistair hadn’t even bothered to lean forward himself. The old man was still staring at his plate as if he hadn’t really noticed that Samuel was in the room.
“Err,” Samuel began, not entirely sure how he was supposed to take this treatment of disinterest and disinterest. If he weren’t thrown by it, he might have been impressed that the man could display two such contradicting emotions at the same time. “It’s quite pleasant. Much quieter than Milagre, that’s for sure.”
“How enticing!” A lady two spots down from Samuel said, sounding quite genuine. “Wasn’t I just saying the other day how chaotic this city can be sometimes? Wasn’t I, Gerald?”
“Yes, dear,” came the polite, if slightly exhausted reply of her husband.
“It’s quite a ways away from the capital, you know,” this came from a young man sitting three spots to Alistair Silver’s left. He was mimicking the Lord’s behavior of speaking to his plate. “There’s a great big forest in the way.”
“Yes, we are quite aware,” Lord Silver replied. Now there was a cutting edge to his voice. It dripped with disdain and disapproval. “There is no need to point out the obvious, Augustus.”
Augustus’ face, or what of it Samuel could see, turned bright red in embarrassment. But he chose not to reply to the Lord’s remark. Samuel noticed he was wearing a green robe. He’d seen a similar robe on many students at the College. “Yes. Quite dangerous, I’ve heard. The forest is rumored to be crawling with bandits.”
“Oh, it was,” Samuel confirmed. He wondered why this information hadn’t been on Arthur’s maps if it was known in this city. “Our caravan was attacked on our way to the capital.”
“Oh dear!” The first noble lady said, putting one hand to her mouth in fear. “I’d be petrified. To think you had to face such ruffians!”
“It was frightening,” Samuel had no trouble in admitting. “But I was safe under the protection of my guards. I barely had to do anything before they saved me.”
He chose not to remark on the terror he felt when one bandit had put a knife to his throat, or the chilling sight of Shigeru’s eyes as he’d acted to kill the same bandit. Such things didn’t need dwelling on. Alistair Silver, still focusing his attention on the plate before him, nodded slowly.
“Yes, well, that is what such men are for. Even in death, they do their duty of serving us.”
Pretentious fool. The words popped into Samuel’s mind without warning, but he recognized Grimr’s voice. In spite of himself, he felt the corner of his mouth tilt up in half a smile. Shut up, he threw back. Don’t distract me. Unfortunately, it seemed that the expression had been noticed by the table. Even more unfortunately, based on their reply, it was clear it had been read as more of a smirk.
“I’m pleased to see you agree with me,” Alistair Silver replied, finally glancing in his direction with a look of mild approval. “It is only befitting of a noble, that others should sacrifice for their sake. Just as we sacrifice for our King.”
Nods and muted noises of agreement broke out among the high table at that remark. Again, Samuel’s face betrayed him by making a small expression before he could think how to react. This time, he frowned in confusion and disapproval. It didn’t go unnoticed.
“You disagree?”
“I do,” he said before his brain had caught up with his tongue. “They are brave men and women, and should be treated with respect.”
He caught a glimpse of several serving staff nearby turning quickly to look at him, surprise etched onto their faces. Surprise, and even appreciation. Just how badly were noble staff treated in this city? At the head table, however, his answer was greeted with stony silence. Alistair Silver continued to stare at him, his mouth slightly open as if in shock. He no longer looked approving.
Finally, after what felt like too many seconds to be polite, the lord said, “Clearly, you still have much to learn about the role of nobility, Mister Bragg. You have been elevated to a new life, and new privileges are afforded to you. If you cannot recognize them, you are not worthy of the title.”
It wasn’t the rude words that shocked Samuel. Nor was it the deliberate refusal to use the title of ‘Lord’, for which he cared little in any event. No, it was the fact that it was said in the same dismissive, disdainful tone in which he’d spoken to the young noble named Augustus. At once, Samuel could feel his temper flare, licking the inside of his torso like hungry flames. He knew the anger showed on his face and fought valiantly to rearrange his face to a more polite expression. Barely ten minutes into the dinner, and he’d already been offered this level of insult?
“I must respectfully disagree with you, Lord Silver,” he said.
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“Mind how you speak to my father!” Augustus said, surprising Samuel again. “You should show respect when-”
His father turned quickly, silencing his son with a glare. “Do not disrespect our guest!” His voice was now a menacing bark of authority, and it froze the entire room for a half second. Samuel found the command ironic, given how he’d just spoken to Samuel not a few seconds prior.
Samuel looked down at his plate, which had only one small bite taken. Could he really sit through this entire evening without letting an unforgivable insult slip from his mouth? He thought he might be able to handle the dinner, but he was certain the event would be more than just a simple meal. A band sat in one corner of the room, hinting that there might be dancing later.
He resolved to keep his mouth shut tight if he couldn’t think of something pleasant to say, and to keep his opinion to himself for the rest of the night. He thought he did fairly well over the next two hours, as the other nobles continued to ply him with questions. Many of them copied Alistair Silver’s manner of delivering casual insults that infuriated him. He got the sense that very few of them had ever traveled outside the city, and even fewer had reached as far as Harlest. He did recognize one noble that had visited the village prior, though the man - as he’d done business through his steward - wasn’t going to recognize Samuel.
With a sigh of relief - quickly followed by another wave of trepidation - he recognized the sound of the bell that signaled the end of the desert course. Servers swept in, scooping up the plates and scurrying back out of the room, right before yet more staff hurried to move the lower table to the wall opposite the band. A murmur of interest and excitement rippled among the nobles and their guests. Many were rising and pairing up with others and moving toward the center of the room. As expected, there was to be some dancing.
The band began to play a slow, drawling tune, and the dancers were all too quick to match their movements to it, moving in slow circles. Samuel watched the scene with apprehension. He was not particularly graceful. He knew many of the dances from Harlest, those fast-paced songs that country folk so loved, and could perform them reasonably well, but he knew without a doubt he’d only make a fool of himself with these slow ballads.
To compound his fear, he noticed an older man stepping in front of him, blocking his view of the dancers. He was accompanied by a young fair-headed woman. Both were smiling rather pleasantly, and Samuel realized that, so far in the dinner, they hadn’t spoken to him. The father - for it was clear he and the young woman were related - spoke with a polite tone as well.
“Good evening, Lord Bragg,” he said, lifting one hand in a grand flourish and bowing slightly. His daughter beside him curtsied, mimicking his greeting quietly. “I am Darren Rainhall, and this is my daughter, Mara.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Samuel said, quite honestly. The pair’s politeness was an unexpected but nice change to the overall mood of the evening.
“I just wanted to speak briefly, and offer my warm welcome to you,” Lord Rainhall replied. Samuel wasn’t sure if he really saw it, but he could have sworn that Rainhall had thrown a very quick and unapproving look in the direction of Alistair Silver. “I wonder if you might offer my family the honor of dancing with my daughter.”
Samuel looked at Mara in mild surprise, and quite a bit of trepidation. “You want to dance with me?”
She curtsied again. It didn’t seem as if she was doing this against her will or because her father had insisted. “It would be my honor and my pleasure, Lord Bragg.”
“Well then,” he felt it would be quite rude to refuse the offer, especially as they’d gone out of their way to be so polite to him. “I would be more than pleased to accept if you’ll have me.”
A wide and open smile spread across Mara’s face, and her father grinned as well. “Very well, then. I shall depart, and leave my daughter in your hands.”
Samuel rose from his seat and walked around the table, offering his arm to the Lady Rainhall. She took it, and the pair of them made their way to the central area. Once he was sure they were out of hearing range of the high table, he admitted his misgiving. “I must admit, I fear I won’t be very good at the sort of dancing you do here in the capital.”
“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that,” she said. “The first dance isn’t important. It’s just to honor the host. I’ve heard that Lord Silver has selected music more familiar to you.”
He wasn’t sure he could believe that, but, seeing the doubt on his face, she smiled more widely, and led him over to where the band sat. “Go ahead and ask them about songs you know.”
“Err, alright,” he said uncertainly, feeling bad for interrupting the attention of the man holding a violin. “Are you familiar with ‘Wings of the Sparrow’? Or perhaps ‘The Cliffs of Jyrok?’”
The band member nodded eagerly, speaking softly while still playing his instrument. “Yes, my lord. I was trained by a minstrel in Jyrok, and I’ve even spent some time in Harlest. I spent many days playing in The Nook Inn.”
Samuel couldn’t hide his surprise but felt a wave of pleasure. “Excellent. Thomas always loved ‘The Cliffs of Jyrok’.”
“That he did, sir,” the musician replied with a grin. “That he did. Quite fond of ‘Clouds of Harvest’ as well, wasn’t he?”
Samuel’s eyebrows shot up at this piece of information. The song was one of Thomas’ private favorites, as it reminded him of his late wife who had died to a mysterious illness. That wasn’t information the man would share with just anyone. “Well, it seems you do know about Harlest. But ‘Clouds of Harvest’ is a bit dour for this crowd.”
“‘The Cliffs of Jyrok’, it is then,” the musician agreed. “Allow us just a few seconds.”
Mara led him by the arm back to the center of the room as the band smoothly transitioned to the song, gradually picking up the pace. The nobles looked around with interest and seemed excited at the pickup of the pace. Samuel glanced at Mara. “Do you know the dance that accompanies this song?”
“But of course,” she replied smoothly. “I quite love dancing, and I’ve learned every dance I can.”
He wasn’t sure if she was just overconfident, but as the song truly began, she gently nudged him two steps back, assuming the proper space. As soon as the drums began the first hard beat that would dominate the song, she stomped her right foot. He couldn’t deny that she knew the dance well, and even that she performed it better than he could. But for a moment, just a moment, he allowed himself to join her, stomping his own foot in time, and moving through the rhythmic stamping dance alongside her. They formed a circle in the center of the floor, and the other nobles watched with high interest. Samuel did his best to ignore them and focus on the dance, at least until they were somewhat familiar with the pattern, and moved to copy.
Perhaps, he thought, there were some decent noble families in the city. The Rainhall clan certainly seemed to be. Mara was witty, pretty, and mischievous, not to mention a great dancer and very polite. He couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this night wouldn’t be a total disaster.