Lucios entered the room with steady steps, his eyes quickly taking in the presence of the two principal figures. He had expected to see Baron Oliver, but the sight of Sir Patrick standing beside him made him adjust his posture slightly. The baron, always imposing, displayed a slight smile suggesting good humor. Sir Patrick, on the other hand, held a rigid and observant expression, studying Lucios with an intensity that was almost unsettling. Known for his ability to notice subtle details, the knight seemed capable of seeing beyond the confident facade that Lucios worked so hard to maintain.
Suddenly, Lucios heard the sound of the door closing behind him. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder and noticed that the young soldier who had brought him there remained in the room, standing silent and still in a discreet corner. This unexpected presence made him hesitate for a moment. "Strange," he thought, but seeing that the baron did not question the soldier's presence, Lucios deduced that the young man must be someone of talent, perhaps an apprentice under Sir Patrick’s guidance. The idea that he might be evaluated not only by the knight but also by the trainee added an unexpected weight to the encounter.
While keeping a firm posture, Lucios noticed his breathing wavering slightly, something only Sir Patrick seemed to pick up on. The knight’s attentive eyes caught every small sign of tension, like Lucios’s clenched hands or the subtle irregularity of his breath. The baron, for his part, maintained a friendly, receptive look, projecting warm hospitality.
Internally collecting himself, Lucios set aside any trace of insecurity. He felt his mind sharpen, his body relax, and, with a confidence that only years of training could provide, he began to speak. “Greetings, Baron Oliver,” he said, his voice steady. “I, Lucios of House Apurina, wish to express my gratitude for your hospitality. I have greatly enjoyed my stay at House Kamaiura these past weeks. The honor of being among you is something I will carry with me always.” His speech was polished, perfectly rehearsed, as if he had repeated those words thousands of times, every inflection meticulously controlled.
As Lucios proceeded with his speech, he noticed small changes in his listeners' reactions. Sir Patrick, who had initially kept a neutral expression, began to show a faint approving smile, as if satisfied with Lucios’s performance. His eyes sparkled, appreciating the care and well-placed rhetoric. The baron, however, seemed to move in the opposite direction. Oliver's initial smile slowly faded until his face took on a more serious, impatient expression. Before Lucios could finish, the baron interrupted him abruptly.
"Enough! I can't bear to listen to these rehearsed presentations anymore," Oliver said, his voice echoing through the room. "All this noble tradition of speaking in circles exhausts me."
Lucios was stunned. The unexpected interruption left him momentarily speechless. Even Sir Patrick, who until then had seemed to appreciate the speech, looked unsettled by the baron's blunt words.
The baron, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort his abrupt interruption had caused, kept an impassive expression. Without bothering to soften the tense atmosphere, he simply gestured to a nearby chair and spoke directly, “Sit down, boy.”
Lucios hesitated briefly. Noble etiquette advised him to wait for a formal and courteous invitation, but the baron’s tone made it clear that he was not interested in formalities. Deciding that it wasn’t worth insisting on tradition in front of Oliver, he let go of his instincts and sat down, as commanded.
Wasting no time, the baron leaned slightly forward, fixing his eyes on Lucios with an expression that suggested he had already made up his mind. “You have been here in M’baraba for some time,” he began, his voice laden with intent. “So, what are your impressions of my daughter, Lilian?”
Lucios felt his heart race, but he quickly composed his thoughts. Following the protocol taught by his tutors, he began a polished speech, full of compliments. "Upon meeting Lady Lilian, I was deeply impressed by her radiant beauty and her unmatched grace. Her eyes shine like stars, and her smile lights up any room…” He intended to continue, reciting praises that sounded as familiar as rehearsed greetings. However, a quick glance at the baron’s face revealed something he hadn’t expected: the same look of disinterest he had noticed earlier. The more Lucios spoke, the more the baron's smile faded, as if the carefully chosen words lost all effect in the face of Oliver's increasingly monotone expression.
Realizing the need to adjust his approach, Lucios interrupted his own words and, after a brief pause, resumed in a more direct tone, abandoning the empty flourishes. “Lady Lilian is unlike any other noblewoman I have met,” he said, now with palpable sincerity. “Despite being a lady, she is exceptional at fencing. I admit that, in many ways, she is even better than I am.” A slight smile appeared on his face as he recalled the challenges he faced. “Besides, she has a strong, fiery temper. In all the time I’ve been in M’baraba, I’ve exchanged only a few words with her. I’ve never had the chance for a real conversation, and honestly, I get the impression that she hates me.” The now raw, honest words captured the baron’s attention, who tilted his head, intrigued by the unexpected turn of Lucios’s response.
As Lucios spoke, the baron observed the young man with growing interest, appreciating the shift in demeanor. Lucios's sincerity was rare among Lilian’s suitors. Where others sought to impress him with rehearsed speeches and calculated gestures, he now saw a young man bold enough to admit the challenges he faced with his daughter. However, a shadow of concern crossed the baron’s expression. Lilian seemed to grow more distant with each passing day; with her first suitors, at least, she had gone through the courtesy of conversation.
Now, she didn’t even bother to hide her impatience. "Is my daughter becoming insufferable even to those who should be eager to court her?" thought the baron. Oliver feared that her constant refusals and tempestuous behavior might end up driving away all potential suitors and jeopardizing her future. Yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel intrigued by the effect Lucios seemed to have on her; perhaps there was something more there.
“That sounds like my daughter,” said the baron finally, with a slight laugh, and a spark of challenge danced in his gaze. He paused for a long moment, as if deeply reflecting, before continuing with a graver tone. “Taking your words as truth, I would say you don’t wish to continue with this marriage proposal, do you?” There was a hint of challenge in his voice, as if testing Lucios's intentions, probing what lay behind all that determination.
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Lucios lowered his eyes for a moment, as if reflecting, but deep down, the answer was clear and bitter: it would make no difference if he said he didn’t want the marriage. He still remembered his father, Count Tiberios's harsh words, who, upon receiving Lucios’s first attempt to refuse, had been categorical in saying he would rather disinherit him than accept any dissenting opinion. For Tiberios, the alliance with Baron Oliver's house was non-negotiable, and Lucios understood that any resistance was futile. However, as he stared at the ground, a new doubt arose in his heart: did he, deep down, want this marriage to happen?
The answer, at first, seemed obvious. No, he didn’t want it. The mission felt like a punishment, a veiled rebuke for every time he defied his father's expectations. He felt shackled, caught in a political game he wished to avoid. However, in recent weeks, something within him had changed, something he was reluctant to admit. There was a strange magnetism in Lilian, something that stirred in him a desire for challenge, a spark he had never felt before. And now, in that moment, he was resolved. He raised his gaze, his eyes shining with newfound and overwhelming determination, meeting the baron’s with an intensity that was nearly disarming. “The more she tries to pull away, the more I wish to win her over,” he declared, his voice ringing clear and unwavering, without a trace of hesitation. It wasn’t the mission imposed by his father that drove him, but a pure, blossoming desire, the genuine yearning of a young man who, for the first time, had met someone who would not easily be molded.
Sir Patrick, ever observant, was momentarily surprised by the response. The baron, on the other hand, couldn’t conceal his reaction. For a moment, he blinked, then burst into hearty laughter that echoed through the room. “Good, good, very good,” he exclaimed, wiping away a tear of laughter that escaped his eye. “A man ought to be like that! You know, over the past few weeks, my brother hasn’t stopped praising you… and now I see why.”
Before Lucios could respond, the baron turned to his desk, opening a dark wooden drawer and pulling out a rolled-up parchment. Lucios immediately recognized the seal—the symbol of the Apurina house, now broken, indicating the document had already been read.
With a casual gesture, Baron Oliver unrolled the parchment and began to speak, his tone now slightly more serious. “In truth, I had my doubts about this marriage,” he confessed, his eyes skimming the handwritten lines. “Count Tiberios has shown much generosity in this marriage proposal,” he continued, almost as if he were musing aloud, his gaze still fixed on the words on the goatskin parchment.
Hearing the baron’s direct words, Lucios felt a knot form in his stomach, but he held his gaze steady. “I am not ignorant of my father’s motives in proposing this union,” he began, carefully choosing each word. “In fact, what he desires is the support of a strong northern noble house, to facilitate future dealings for the Apurina house in this region.” Though he knew this wasn’t the true reason, his voice sounded so confident it was almost convincing.
Baron Oliver crossed his arms, analyzing Lucios’s response with an enigmatic expression. After a few seconds of reflection, he narrowed his eyes, as if testing the young man’s true intentions. “I recognize that my Kamaiura house is not weak,” the baron said, his voice now thoughtful and full of curiosity. “But it doesn’t compare to many of the great northern noble houses, which carry generations of history and accumulated power. In that case, why not choose one of those larger houses, which stand on the same level as the Apurina house? Why choose a recently enfeoffed house like Kamaiura?” There was a silent challenge in his words, an invitation for Lucios to justify why this alliance with a lesser-status house.
Lucios took a deep breath, absorbing the question. He knew that political strategy was an inescapable part of noble life, and in that moment, he realized the baron was probing for something deeper. The baron wanted to know if Lucios saw beyond power games, if he was aware of his father Tiberios’s plans.
Lucios fell silent, his chin slightly lowered as his gaze drifted over the stone floor. He didn’t know how to respond immediately. The weight of the question seemed much greater than his rehearsed words could cover. It was true that, compared to the ancient nobility of the north, the Kamaiura house was still a young star in the constellation of great houses, and he knew any answer he gave might sound evasive or weak. He felt a cold sweat run down his neck as the silence stretched, thickening the atmosphere.
Sir Patrick, who had been observing the conversation in complete silence, finally intervened. His tone was calm and deliberate, as if weighing each word before speaking. “I believe I have the answer to that question, my lord,” he said, his voice cutting through the heavy air with precision. Lucios looked up in surprise, as did the baron, who seemed intrigued by the interruption. “Unlike the rest of the kingdom,” Sir Patrick continued, “the northern nobles have an old custom: they marry their children only among the noble houses of the north. And, as Apurina is not from the north, it would be expected that it would face great difficulty in succeeding with any marriage proposal to these traditional families.”
The baron leaned forward slightly, showing interest in Sir Patrick’s explanation, though a slight confusion was evident in his expression; he hadn’t expected the knight to defend the young man in that way. Lucios found Sir Patrick’s answer clever, acknowledging the existence of the northern marriage tradition. However, he also reflected that it wasn’t entirely true that the Apurina house couldn’t secure a match among the northern noble houses if it wished. After all, his family was one of the old houses that had existed since the kingdom’s founding, enjoying considerable prestige.
Sir Patrick continued, now looking directly at Lucios, as if offering him a chance at redemption: “The Kamaiura house, though young, is not bound by these traditions. And thus, it is a strategic, perhaps even bold choice, that your father made in proposing this union.”
Lucios felt a wave of relief at Sir Patrick’s unexpected defense. He wasn’t entirely sure why the knight was helping him, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. The tense energy of the conversation dissipated slightly, and he decided to agree. “Indeed, one of the reasons for my father’s strong interest in this union,” he admitted, “is that the Kamaiura house does not feel bound to the rigid traditions of the north. This could provide us with a flexibility that other alliances might not offer.”
Baron Oliver listened attentively, his eyes darkening in consideration, as if weighing every word he had just heard. In silence, he picked up the parchment again, and his fingers slowly glided over the paper, almost as if he were seeking in the written words the confirmation of a suspicion he already held. The silence between them stretched, dense and laden with unspoken meanings, while the baron kept his gaze fixed on the lines of the parchment, absorbed in his own thoughts.
Finally, he looked up at Lucios, his expression transformed—what had been hesitation now gave way to a solid determination, as if a long-matured decision had finally risen to the surface. “In that case,” he said, his voice firm and full of gravity, “I see no reason to oppose this marriage. However, regarding the second request that Count Tiberios made in his letter…”