Noblesse Oblige [Znt/SI]

[shadenight123]

Chapter Eighty-Five

Isabella looked kind of cross. I realized that she had, indeed, ransacked through the entire house judging by how the order of the books in the library and the notes on my desk had been moved all over, and yet also neatly rearranged in a similar position, but not the original one precisely.

On the other hand, I was missing three servants. "Isabella, dear?" I said with a puzzled expression as I mentally counted the heads of the present servitude, "Are we missing someone?" Jeanette was included on the list of missing servants, but still-the reason I was pretty sure two were missing was because the servant assigned to handling my official mail and the one meant to serve me breakfast were both different now, even though they had been the ones practically assigned to it.

"Oh? Must be your imagination dear," Isabella replied nonchalantly, "Thank you so much for recovering my luggage," she smiled as she drew near, taking my hands in hers and the linking my right arm, "what sort of prize shall I give to my most beloved husband for being such a good and noble knight to his lady? Ah, I know," she began to pull me along, and as soon as we stepped into a room that should have been familiar, and yet definitely wasn't, I knew what it was all about. "What do you think?"

I had words. I had words, and those words were quite honestly a mixture of why, why did you think it would be wise, and why did you think I'd like this. The room was, to put it bluntly, the secret fetish heaven of strawberry lovers. It smelled of strawberry, it reeked of strawberry, the colors were pink, and dark pink, purple and what definitely looked like bright yellow, if tinted with a light pink hue.

This room, when hit by the sun's rays directly, would be a dazzling example of hatred and scorn for the eyes of whoever dared to trespass within it.

It also was my sleeping room.

"All of that brown and beige-so out of fashion," Isabella said offhandedly, "There was no way I could tolerate it-"

"Isabella," I said quietly, "Rather than wonder how you managed all of this in one day, I have to ask the reason for this color palette."

"I understand you took an escort and crossed the border to meet with your family," Isabella said nonchalantly, making my blood freeze cold for just the briefest of instants. "I though that changing the colors in your room would make you reminisce them, and ensure you wouldn't have the need to visit them more often," she added with a slightly nervous tone. "I would rather you did not cross the border more than once a year, my Henry. It is a risky and dangerous endeavor-one that could be used to create international accidents, but mostly-an attempt on your life would have drastic consequences, even more so if it happened while you were under a foreign power's escort."

I blinked. "Those were my father's men-"

"But your father is loyal to the crown of Tristain, not that of Gallia," Isabella whispered gently, "I understand you cherish your family, my Henry, but...oh, I so hate acting like this, especially with you-my heart really breaks, but..." she gently grabbed the back of my hand, "the Prince-Regent, though perhaps I should call him King henceforth, he sent word he was to be crowned king soon. It's been confirmed, and that means-I'll be Crown princess, and you my husband. Please refrain from crossing the border any longer."

"Isabella," I said gently, "The next time you want to soften a difficult news for me, please simply give me a cup of warm coffee in my hands beforehand. Do not repaint my rooms colors that are truly eye-searing," I said with a small smile.

"I'm sorry," Isabella said sheepishly, "Is it really that bad? They look pleasant enough-"

"Dear, the only reason my eyes aren't bleeding is because I am doing my best to gaze at the carpet, which, while completely mauve, is still better than the rest of the room," I said quite calmly. "So...can I have my room back to its normal color?"

"Of course!" Isabella said hastily, "anything for you, my Henry."

"Also, I think you know this already, but just in case-the future King wishes for me and my men to be his escort to Romalia for his crowning," I said. "Will you be following him, or..."

"It's for the best I stay at the palace," Isabella answered. "I have to take care of things without uncle there, although...perhaps uncle might..." she grimaced, "No, he wouldn't," she shook her head. "I'll have to do my best. It won't be for long, will it? And with father as King...actually the king..." she shuddered, "Perhaps it's best I get used to making the rules right now."

"You should train in catching objects thrown at you," I said gently, making her furrow her brows in puzzlement. "He also said that as soon as you will be old enough to become Queen without requiring a regency, he'll hand over the crown to you by throwing it in your direction during court. That's his plan, at least."

Isabella's hands clenched tightly, one of them practically hooked on my arm. It didn't draw blood, but the pressure was indeed there. "So...he plans to make a fool of me? That's what you're saying, Henry," she gritted her teeth, "In front of the court no less-a fool, like him?" she shook her head, "What did you say?"

"That I'd catch the crown in case you couldn't, and that I would place it on your head," I answered honestly, moving one of my hands to palm her cheek. "Because you already are the Queen of my heart, it doesn't matter if the fool makes a mockery of himself-I'll always be there for you."

Isabella remarkably managed to achieve the same color of the bright pink pillows with her face alone. It was honestly a bizarre color palette -the light blue of her hair, and the bright pink of her face.

"Henry!" she said with a noticeably improved mood. "Such bold words! Always catching me by surprise with them-why you!" she huffed, slapped my chest with her free hand, and then smiled. "But I have something to say," she hummed pleasantly, "Out of all the things he did wrong, picking you as my betrothed wasn't one." Then she smiled, and proceeded to plant a kiss on the side of my cheek. "There, now tell me everything you did with your family-how is your sister doing?" she remarked. "I heard she is getting married soon enough."

I simply smiled.

"You hear a lot of things, my Isabella."

Isabella smiled in turn, and then hopped on my legs as I took a seat on the nearby, horribly pink and yellow, sofa. "Didn't you know? There are no secrets between a husband and his wife."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had spies set to follow me wherever I go," I said offhandedly.

Isabella, most coyly made a great, rehearsed show of pulling out a fan, and then began to fan herself while hiding the lower side of her face.

The fact it was theatrical to the extreme was as obvious as plain sunlight, but I still watched with lingering amusement.

"Just so you know," Isabella said softly, "I'd never spy on your time with your family," she continued in a whisper-like voice, nudging her head closer to the crook of my shoulder, her fan left on her lap. "But cheating is unacceptable," she continued with a serious undertone. "Have I been clear?"

"I'd never cheat on you, my dear," I said gently. "That is perhaps the one thing my Gramont friend never managed to teach me," I blinked. "Uh, did you ever realize it? The words Teach and Cheat have the same letters, but arranged differently-"

"Oh?" Isabella blinked, and then her eyes widened. "That's true! It's like-similar to..." she closed her eyes. "Other words."

"Words, Sword," I said.

"Ah! Not fair!" Isabella huffed, "I suggested that one! It's...Its, and Sit!"

I grinned, "Ranged, derange."

"Danger," Isabella said quite proudly.

Thus, the game was on.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Eighty-Six

When the letter arrived with the news of the death of the King, it was pretty clear a funeral would be held, swiftly followed by the departure for Lutece. Since the crowning of royalty was big news, it was also a pretty big event. The Night Wind was a big ship, but it could have been easily dwarfed in number of cannons and size by the flagship of the Gallian military, the Lutece, and yet it had been chosen over it, much to the dismay and the grumbling of the nobles and commanders of the Gallian army.

Crossing the dragon fire mountains, the Night Wind was stacked at full capacity and yet managed to maintain its altitude. It wasn't just because of the servants and the attendants for king Joseph, but also because, due to the current enlistment rates, some men had to be left behind all the same.

A second ship was commissioned though. It had been already dubbed the Day Gale and it would be finished in six months. The Petite Armée would have two ships to work with, and there would be more than enough space for all of the enlisted -at least, that was my hope. If they kept coming, then I'd just have to keep building ships. Also, the barracks needed to be rebuilt and made bigger, or more needed to be put into place.

At the present, one had to reach the outskirts of Lutece to enlist, which was easy for Tristanian and Germanian fallen nobles to reach, but if I opened another training center in the Duchy of Brittany, I might find myself with more Albion refugees trying to escape the misery of their situation by enlisting.

Joseph was sitting on a plush armchair that his servants had brought out from below deck when we finally came into view of Romalia's coronation city, the holy city of Aquileia.

The cathedral of St. Lutia was the chosen holy place where the coronation would happen, and while it was as honorable of a cathedral as any, it wasn't the main cathedral of Romalia. Then again, the cathedral of Romalia was only for the coronation of the Pope, so to speak. The moment we passed the border, a group of templar knights riding dragons as white as snow began to escort us to Aquileia, taking flight from their positions alongside the mountain ridge.

"Even the dragons," Joseph remarked from his armchair, gazing right ahead, "Just like when father was crowned-brother and I were both present. Grandfather, I had met him once and hadn't liked him one bit, but my brother was crying all the same," he thoughtfully glanced up at me, who had chosen to remain seated with my arms behind my back, gazing at the horizon with peerless curiosity.

Aquileia was a sort of Venice, so...was there some piece of land here that resembled my region? How did the hymn go? Brothers of Italy, we are ready to die, we are ready to die, Italy calls. I smiled a bit, and shook my head.

"He wasn't chastised for it," Joseph grumbled, "I was told that crying was a big no, a serious breach in the etiquette," Joseph snorted, "Not that it was difficult not to cry, but...perhaps that's the problem? I never got to cry properly? Uhm..." he turned thoughtful. "I wonder about that."

"Perhaps because you've never felt pain," I replied. "The physical kind of it, I mean. It's difficult to cry on command from a mere mental work, but perhaps-who knows, a broken leg might make you cry out. Though I wouldn't suggest it."

"You are right, I should start from there," Joseph said. "Break one of my legs-I've got two...no, break one of my arms, my left one is mostly useless anyway, and see what happens." By my side, I could see the looks in the officers that remained at the ready for orders widen in disbelief at the sheer madness of the discussion I was having with the future King. They didn't understand that when dealing with mad people, the best course of action was to agree with them, and at the same time direct them to where they couldn't harm others.

"Perhaps start with a single finger?" I said.

"That too is agreeable," Joseph said. "Do we have a water mage aboard?"

"Yes, why-" the next second, Joseph de Gallia, future king, grabbed his index finger of his left hand and twisted, the sickening accompanied by wide-eyed screams of surprise as the man actually bent in two howling from pain, his teeth gritted as he clutched the hand he had just broken his finger of-and...

"Water mage! Now!" I said hotly, the closest of officers rushing to get one of such magic users from below deck.

There were, in fact, tears in Joseph's eyes. "This...this hurts," he whimpered. "Ah-ah!" he gasped for air, "This really hurts!" he clutched his hand with the broken finger by the wrist with his other one, "Why did I even do this?" he gritted his teeth, "This really hurts!"

"I'm here!" one of the water mages arrived swiftly, his wand already out. "Your royal highness, please-the hand-"

"Next time," Joseph said with a hiss, "Next time I try something this-this foolish-oh hell," he blinked, the tears in his eyes pouring out, "So this-this is what-" he began to laugh, even amidst choked sobs.

"Nobody saw anything, you four, in front of the king to prevent viewing from our escorts," I said sharply, pointing at four well built men who hastily complied. The water mage grabbed the broken finger and winced.

"This will hurt-" and with a snap, the finger was back in place even as Joseph bit down hard on the proffered piece of wood with his teeth.

"I didn't really think you'd do it," I said plainly as the finger was put back as if it had never been broken to begin with. Perhaps it hadn't, and it had simply been dislodged, but still-to do so without a doubt...

"Once," Joseph said, "I had clear eyes, filled with the desire to make this world a better place," he muttered that sentence as if it meant the world to him, and I furrowed my brows as I dismissed the guards in front of him, allowing him once more to gaze at the horizon. "Then, those eyes grew clouded," he added. "And I began to lose sight of myself. When I thought this labyrinth would engulf me, however-I began to see a light at the end of this deep tunnel."

He clasped his fingers together, wincing only slightly when he touched the one he had dislocated before. "And now here I am. My perfect brother-he wasn't so perfect. The laughter I had, the joy-and now he's in shambles," he spoke, and he watched the sky. "And I am here-ready to claim the throne, ready to be King-and yet, my brother's sadness...it saddens me too," he mumbled. "But there is joy in there too. Joy that my brother is sad, joy that his perfection was a fraud, false-" he swallowed. "Once I am king, return my brother's daughter to him," he whispered.

I tensed, steeling my spine as cold sweat began to trickle down my back. With a wave of the hand, I dismissed everyone near us, whether they had heard the whispered words of the king before or not, I couldn't know. I hoped not, I suspected not -he had barely whispered them, had he? and yet-yet perhaps it was my mind playing tricks, but still-I dismissed them, and they obeyed stepping further back to the middle of the deck, leaving both the king and I alone at the front of it, staring at the horizon and the flying white dragons escorting us.

"You did well, and I understand," Joseph spoke, and his eyes looked up at me with approval, "Your eyes-they are as clouded as mine, but you'll do well. Isabella is a precocious child, but try as she might she still stumbles about a bit. When you brought the bones back, I had a water mage dig them up and examine them afterwards. They belonged to a child, but it was a boy. They weren't even all his, but the man was killed, so he wouldn't speak. I understood, and kept quiet. Once I am king, though-are we clear?"

"And what if...she doesn't want to go back to a family that sent her away?" I whispered in turn.

"Then she can stay where she is, but my brother-he must know she still lives," Joseph said plainly. "I am sure you can find her by chance, or have her found by chance, use whatever trick, or mean, but that is it. Understand? After we return to Gallia-you will do so."

"Very well," I said.

"Also," Joseph said offhandedly, "Thank you."

"What for?" I replied with a half-croaked voice.

"For taking care of my foolish daughter, in place of this foolish father."

"Your daughter is not foolish, and neither are you," I replied with a sigh. "You simply weren't told any better by people who should have known better."

"Then...it is a long line of fools then," Joseph laughed, and after a short while, I joined him in such a laugh.

Even as we both shared a laugh, deep down, I understood I really should have left politics to Isabella alone.

Perhaps I could take up gardening?

Twitchy hadn't come out that bad, had it?

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Eighty-Seven

The city of Aquileia smelled like the city of Venice. As my steps brought me down the docked Night Wind and onto the street proper, rows upon rows of my knights formed neatly arranged lines with their wands drawn and held close to their chests while atop their dragons. Behind them, musketeers did the same with their rifles, their officers standing slightly in front of their own troops. This neat parade-like display held up until the entrance to the massive villa where the king would reside until the coronation event took place.

At that point, the knights and the musketeers took their positions following the orders of their officers, and the villa soon became a fortress that, while perhaps not impenetrable, was still quite heavily under guard.

The Archbishop was waiting for us in the great meeting room, where a large round table had been prepared, with one chair strikingly better decorated than the others, and a second one only slightly better than the rest. The Pope was already sitting on his chair, and as he stood up, I could see a young man behind him amidst the holy Templars who escorted his Holiness -the moon-eyed Julio, with blond hair and eyes each of a different color.

"It is nice to finally meet with your grace," the Pope spoke. Using the Grace rather than the Royal Highness was a privilege reserved to the Pope, who was the shepherd of the flock of faith, and valued highly as a foreign king by himself. To everyone else, he was His Holiness. It was the only rank worth of him, the only title of address-he was the Pope, and thus, he was His Holiness.

Joseph sat down without much preambles, and then scoffed. "If you were looking forward to meeting with me, then you should have brought out the wine," he said airily. "Your Holiness lacks in wine."

The archbishop actually opened his mouth in disbelief, but Vittorio simply chuckled. "You are right, your grace," the Pope said. "We are lacking in refreshments. After such a long trip, like a thirsty pilgrim finally reaching the end of his pilgrimage-he should be welcomed with all honors."

He turned towards a nearby priest, who probably acted as the substitute for a servant around these parts, and the man complied, leaving and returning at a later moment with wine and small delicacies. Funnily enough, while the table was large, the only ones that had sat down were the Pope, the King and the Archbishop. The rest of us remained dutifully quiet, myself one step behind Joseph -as the commander in charge- and my officers two steps further behind me. Along the walls, knights remained at ease, or perhaps in religious awe.

None had been brought into my folds with charges of heresy last I remembered, and if they had, I hoped the officers had a bit of a brain behind their heads and decided not to put them in the same room as the Pope himself.

I admit, once Joseph had his fill with wine the proceedings went by smoothly. There was a rigorous etiquette that had to be followed, the high ranked nobility of Gallia would be arriving later by the end of the week -much to Joseph's pissed off expressions. He would have rather the Pope simply put the crown on his head and be done with it, but that wasn't how things worked apparently, and thus...

Thus it was our duty to defend the King, together with Romalia's chosen Templars.

"One week in this place," Joseph grumbled as we soon found ourselves left in peace by the Romalian pope and his servants and guards. Sitting at the table, being served food of Gallian cuisine by the servants brought along, were the King, myself, and the top officers of my army. "To be crowned after a week-it's just a crown on a head," he said with a huff. "I can do that myself if the Pope needs so much time."

"Things need to be perfect," I pointed out. "Crowning a king isn't a trifling matter for everyone else."

"The steps are numbered, the positions-the placement of important figures," Joseph snorted, "There are pictures-paintings even, so many kings! This entire palace is filled with nothing but paintings of kings and queens kneeling to get their crowns," he angrily tore into his steak, shaking his head all the while. "As if saying that even a king needs to kneel to someone else. If it were any other king, I wonder what they'd think. A king shows humility when he's crowned, and defers to the Pope? That sort of thing-who has the bigger army? Who has the bigger guns?"

"The bigger guns are of Gallia," I answered, "But for the bigger army...I'll have to say Romalia," I plainly spoke. "Because it's an army that crosses borders, composed of all of the faithful-you can have big guns, but without the hands to use them-then they're worthless."

Most of the officers at the table swallowed noisily their nervousness. Honestly, this talking back to the king thing that I was doing -it was unheard of. When the king ranted, people nodded and went with You are absolutely right, your royal highness. Answering back like this, it was left to the royal family itself. Even etiquette lessons remarked on the difference between prince-consort and actual king and on the degrees of respect deserved.

Yet there I was, answering back to the king pointedly.

"So Romalia has the bigger army of all of the kingdoms of Brimir?" Joseph said.

"I say it does," I answered quite honestly. "Perhaps Germania, if the reformation they are undergoing works out, might compare, but even then-at most half the population, or less of it."

"Being told that a barbaric country that gives nobility to those who pay is better than Gallia-you do not mince words," Joseph grumbled, "Their current emperor-he was so ruthless he went as far as imprison and let the other kings die of hunger, locking them up in a tower until they ate each other to death," he drank from his goblet, and sighed. "Taking troublesome foes and locking them up to die-barbaric, if done by Germania. Yet when done by other countries-it's just and faithful. What do you say about that, Henry?"

"People tend to justify things when brought under light if it concerns people they care for," I drawled back. "If I plant a rose, I do so because I wish to see the garden prettier. If I plant a poisonous plant, I can be doing it because the plant is pretty, but I might just as well be doing it because I wish to poison someone. If I'm beloved by the gardeners, they'll claim the plant beautiful-if I'm hated by them, they'll claim I wish to poison someone. In the end, I alone can know the true reason for planting that plant-also, if someone more loved than me comes along and says that what I planted is meant for poison-even though it wasn't my intention, even though the gardeners might not have thought about it-they'll change their minds."

"So, it's a matter of love?" Joseph said. "Those who are loved the most can do anything-and those who are loved the least must be careful of everything?"

"Love can be nurtured, or obtained, but it can just as easily be lost. The current Pope is a kind one, who builds orphanages, and takes care of the needs of the many. Most certainly, if he were offended by someone, people would go and say since our Pope is so kind, anyone he dislikes must not be a good person. On the other hand, if such a Pope weren't kind, if he were a problematic individual, or a monster-then they wouldn't think that," I chewed on the piece of roast thoughtfully. "However, with his aura of kindness as it is..."

"I wasn't suggesting we should do something about the Pope," Joseph said with a huff, "But it does annoy me not having Gallia be the first in something," he added. "To make the commoners love me more than they love the Pope-what should I do? Have you thought about it?"

"Let them live, let them be," I hummed. "When commoners aren't forced to do anything against their interests, they tend to like their current government. When they are forced to change their ways instead, they grow bitter with resentment. Honestly, the matter is a bit more complicated-but giving people the choice and watching them choose, that is what it should all be about if you want to be loved. You can't force something like that."

"What a troublesome situation," Joseph acquiesced.

I merely smiled awkwardly back at him, and that was the end of the discussion.

It wouldn't be the end of the problem, but if I had known what it meant-no, even if I had known what it meant...

I wouldn't have stopped him anyway.

Laissez faire, laisser passer.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Eighty-Eight

The coronation ceremony saw nobles from all over Gallia attend. Mostly, it was nobles from the Southern side of Gallia, closest to the border with Romalia and to Aquileia itself. Even though a week had passed, I hadn't visited the city once. I didn't know the layout of the streets beyond those strictly necessary, and while I had given orders to map out a bit more of the city than necessary just in case there was a need to take nearby roads rather than the main ones, I still hadn't gotten to know the city itself.

It was Venice, with its canals, and with the water thought of as Holy. More than one member of my army had asked permission to bottle some of it up, and I had spent many hours massaging the bridge of my nose and allowing no more than a flask of it per soldier -we were already tight with the space aboard, holy flasks? If they had been Holy Hand Grenades perhaps, but...

"The rabbit," I grumbled. "I want a killer rabbit."

"Your grace?" Officer Roderick had both eyebrows raised in a querying gesture. The man was in his late sixties, a fallen noble from Gallia that had thought his savings would suffice to last him a lifetime, and thus had sold his every belonging when he had realized that no, it wouldn't have. He had no family left, no sons, and his noble title had already been sent to the wolves. Basically put, he was my logistic officer rather than a fighter, and I liked him just like that.

Logistics, the number one reason an army works or dies horribly with flip-flops in the middle of Russia.

"Roderick, I want a killer rabbit," I said as I looked at the thick tome in front of my eyes. "A fluffy bunny, which however has sharp razor teeth and aims for the neck."

"Your grace is not a good comedian," Roderick spoke crisply, and I sighed. He was right, but still-the numbers were in order, as they should be, and I was glad the treasury of Gallia would offset the costs of this operation. Moving the ship, the supplies-everything else...it was truly a hefty price.

"The coronation ceremony will take place tomorrow," I said. "Are the preparations complete? Everyone knows their roles?"

"They do," Roderick said with a small bow. "The cathedral of Saint Lutia will be the safest place in all of Halkeginia tomorrow."

It was my hope too.

The ceremony itself was majestic, the figure of Joseph as he stepped into the cathedral itself quite striking to the gathered nobility. Even though he was renowned as the foolish prince, even though he was known to be mad, within this place of holy sanctity, such dark thoughts and whispers were ruthlessly squashed. While the King marched to the front, to the altar where the Pope waited, I looked on from the closest bench of the cathedral to the altar itself, next to me a Duke that oversaw the entirety of the Fire Dragon mountains, his vassals standing in various rows behind him depending on their worth.

We did not exchange words, mostly because the ceremony kept us all quiet as the organ music rose to the top of the cathedral and bounced off, the chorus of young priests cherubic in nature, even as the holy verses finished with the arrival of the king in front of the Pope.

Once there, King Joseph knelt. The reciting of the oaths of the king also went by without a hitch, even though I trembled for a split second when the Pope said the part concerning being a faithful follower of Brimir and his laws, mostly in case Joseph decided to play a stunt of his, but he didn't.

Thus it was with a newly minted king that the Night Wind returned to the royal palace of Gallia.

The Pope hadn't said a word about the Void situation, or if he had, he had spoken to Joseph in private. The Windalfr, thankfully, hadn't a Raven to interrogate -since it would have been folly to bring my animal familiar along- and I hadn't met with him, nor had the young man in question expressed interest.

The moment the king returned to Lutece, a great parade, and great festivities, followed for two weeks.

Yet, in all of this glory and party-making, one figure was conspicuously absent.

The Duke D'Orleans wasn't there, and neither was his family.

"To not show his face-such an affront," the nobles muttered. "His majesty should do something about his troublesome brother."

Such rumors began to circulate, but Joseph didn't bother with them. Why would he? He was touching the sky with his fingers, having won over his brother on all the line, and yet even as he did that, I faced the greatest trial of them all.

Planning the reunion between Josette and her family-it wouldn't be easy.

"So," I spoke, "My idea was to have her found near the village where we found the bones-have her say she escaped and survived by herself-"

"Denied," Joseph answered, the bottle of wine in front of him half-empty. "She is how old again? To survive by herself, having been sheltered by a monastery and without a wand-impossible."

We stood within his office, alone and without servants. The silencing spell I had put on the doors and windows muffled the noise within, so even if we yelled at one another, nobody outside this room would hear.

I tapped my chin, "Have her found without memories? Though it might be thought of as impossible-if she keeps the lie up, then-"

"A child, keeping a lie up convincingly for the rest of her life? One misstep, and it would be over," Joseph drawled. "Just hand her over. Say nothing about how you found her, neither the truth nor a lie. They'll think you wanted me as king, and worked towards that goal. Your name, the Vicious Wind-it doesn't have to be just for show. Brother will hate you, but in court right now, brother's power is practically zero. He might challenge you to a duel, but just get yourself a champion. He'll die in your place and everything will be done with," Joseph shrugged. "His honor will be satisfied and yours tarnished, but since you're just a prince-consort, it doesn't matter."

He thoughtfully looked at the bottle. "Though if your champion wins the duel -I don't think so, but miracles can happen- I don't know. Killing my brother wouldn't make me happy, but at the same time-taking away their honor would be bad. So...choose someone to die for you during the duel and reward their family well. One or two unlanded nobles would gladly do so if it meant their daughters might have a chance at a better life with a sizable dowry-"

"That's...cruel," I muttered.

"Kidnapping a child and feigning her death to her family was not?" Joseph drawled.

"They left her there. They renounced their rights as parents the day they did that. So, in their stead, I took it upon myself to make that child happy," I answered in turn.

"How you even found her-" Joseph mumbled, "perhaps it takes a twin to recognize another?" he remarked.

"The history of having twins is common within the Gallian family," I said nonchalantly. "I admit, perhaps my thoughts weren't that pure when I investigated, but I told myself...why not? If I find nothing, then it's fine, and if I find something, then let's see what it is."

"As the King, I should know all of the details," Joseph drawled. "How you found out, whom you asked-how much you paid."

"I would be a poor taskmaster if I revealed the names of my contacts," I replied. "You do not tell me yours, and I do not tell you mine."

Joseph shrugged, and swallowed the remaining half of his wine bottle. "Fair's fair I guess," he grumbled. "We all have our secrets," he added. He smiled as he showed off the signet ring of the Gallian family -the Earth Ruby, "This was father's. Isn't it a pretty jewel? I found it among his stuff once I stepped into his office. I remember seeing it around his hand and thinking to myself, such a pretty thing, I want it. Back then, I still gave value to such things." He calmly removed it, and threw it in my direction. I widened my eyes as I grabbed it.

"Go to Charles with that ring on your finger and Josette," he said, "Tell him I ordered you to do that," he continued. "I, the mad king, laughed and cheered when I found out everything he had hidden from me. Tell him his desperation, his sadness, his grief, they were so much fun for me to see that I truly made a cruel joke, just like his polite and flawless facade was the joke he played on me," he grabbed a second bottle, and easily uncorked it with his hands. "Tell him that. Know though that you have a bleeding soft heart," Joseph grumbled, "Once, I would have reckoned it similar to Charles', but we both know his was fake so..."

His lips twitched in a small smile, "Are you playing a joke at my expenses too?"

I shook my head slowly, looking at the ring now resting between my fingers. "I would never laugh at the foolishness of a fool. I would pity him," I admitted as much. "And try to help him out, because...if I have the power to do so, then I will do so. Noblesse Oblige." I placed the ring on the table and stood up. "I will assume responsibility for my actions, because that is how I have been grown up."

"I see, I see," Joseph nodded. "Then give that ring to Isabella. The mere sight of it makes me remember unpleasant things nowadays," he waved a hand in dismissal, even as he drank half of the second bottle with ease. "Tell her that with it, she speaks as if she were me. This way, I'll burden myself less with stuff I don't care about."

I hesitated slightly, and then grabbed the ring with my index and thumb.

"An apology to her would work better with words," I pointed out.

"And make a fool of myself? As a royal-we are taught to never apologize, even when we are wrong, we are always right," Joseph grumbled.

"And?" I drawled. "You are the king now. It's up to you what you wish to teach to those that will come next, not to your ancestors. You make your own laws and rules now, Joseph-within the limits of decency, please, but otherwise...if you want to apologize to your daughter, then who but you can actually give you permission to do so?"

I placed the ring on the table once more. "Give it to her by yourself, Joseph. Tell her you honestly trust her with it, because that's the truth. King or not, you are still her father, and your words, both good or bad, mean the world to her."

Joseph glanced up at me with the remains of his second bottle drained. "Sometimes, when I hear you talk, it's like I'm hearing an old man," he said. "Whatever your parents taught you, it was definitely better than what mine taught me."

I smiled, and then bowed to leave. "I'll tell Isabella you wish to speak to her, and I'll convince her to come and listen."

I opened the doors, and stepped out as the servants filtered back inside, and so too did the guards.

It was unfortunate that the profession of the psychiatrist didn't exist in Halkeginia -then again, it apparently didn't exist in a lot of anime realities.

How many problems would otherwise be solved, with simply a heartfelt talk?

Truly...how many?

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Eighty-Nine

Isabella was joyfully fretting over the ring that now adorned her index finger, even as I quietly looked at the passing landscape, my thoughts and emotions in turmoil. "My Henry," Isabella said with a sigh, "father actually allowed you to use him as a scapegoat. Come on now, do not worry."

"I have no intention of doing that," I replied with a visible grimace.

"Stop being so silly," Isabella said, clicking her tongue against her teeth. "Uncle is a renowned duelist, a square mage of unquestionable power-I am glad I decided to tag along. I'll meet my other cousin and see little Helene once more...and also stop you from doing something so foolish," she sighed. "Really, Henry-your dutiful nature is a charming point of yours, but in these circumstances, you act as foolishly as father does."

"I still won't shy away from my responsibilities," I said firmly.

Isabella sighed. "Have you at least chosen someone to be your substitute?"

"No," I said once more.

Isabella blinked, and the next second she jumped from her side of the carriage to mine, grabbing hold of my wrists and pulling them, forcing me to turn my attention from the landscape to her terrified face. "Tell me you aren't planning on dueling him yourself!" she shrieked, eyes wide. "You! You can't!" she yelled, "I forbid you! You're prohibited from doing this!"

"It will be two on one," I said gently, "Raven will help me-since he's a familiar, he's allowed to duel with me."

"It doesn't mean anything!" Isabella yelled, "He's just a big bird! Uncle can transmute gold! He'll have him turned into charcoal and then he'll kill you! He'll kill you and he'll be justified and there will be nothing I could do to stop it!" she clenched my wrists tightly, "Please! If you love me-if there is even a shred of love in your heart for me-please don't do this! You don't know how strong uncle is!"

"Perhaps I don't," I acquiesced, twisting my hands so that the situation reversed, and it was me clutching on to Isabella's hands, "But I know how strong my mother is, and I had no fear in facing her-"

"Your mother wouldn't kill you!" Isabella snapped, "Uncle-Uncle just might!" tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "Don't do this-please, please, please don't do this! Think about me-us, think about the country! Think about-about anything that makes you change your mind!"

"Isabella," I said gently, a smile on my face as my heart drummed, "my common sense-my brain, everything tells me not to do this," I whispered. "But I must uphold my honor as a noble, and thus...I must do this."

"You must be stupid, I understand," Isabella had tears freely pouring down her cheeks now, "You must hurt me, I understand. This is what I understand."

"It's like you don't believe I have a chance at winning," I said in a soft humming voice even as I gently began to pat her head, pulling her on my lap to hug her with my other arm. "Why is that?"

"Because...because you can't," Isabella began to sob, "You can't win-Uncle's...father was foolish and made lots of problems, and Uncle was the one who fixed them. When words weren't enough, he dueled nobles. He could make them lose, even without killing them. He was so strong-I saw him fight more than once. If he's serious...then you've lost, even before you can begin. Only father is as good as him with a sword in hand, but only if it's swords-when it comes to magic, Uncle can't be beaten."

"They say the same thing of my mother," I said, "And yet I managed to defeat her once," I remarked. It was a victory by anything but its name, but as long as it worked in calming Isabella down, then I'd use that too. "Also...he might not challenge me to a duel to begin with. He might be so happy in having his daughter back, he won't do anything. Come on..." which was what I was counting on. By being honest, and perhaps with an earnest plea from Josette, the duel might not happen to begin with.

I pulled out a handkerchief from one of my pockets, and wiped away the tears from Isabella's cheeks. The carriage kept rumbling on, the soft whimpering sobs of Isabella drowned out by the wheels and the hooves of the nearby horses, our escort composed of many knights, and many more dragoons.

"Henry," Isabella said in the end, "You must not die," she murmured. "You absolutely must not die," she continued.

"I won't," I said. "You have my word."

"Your word better be worth the same as that of the Founder then," Isabella grumbled suddenly, "Because if it isn't, I won't simply be sad, I'll be really angry with you."

I hummed, "Well, they say that within Ragdorian lake rests a spirit of water whom, when an oath is made in front of it, will ensure it is kept forever," I proceeded to fold my handkerchief and put it back within my pocket. "If you want, I can reiterate my promise by its shores?"

Isabella lifted her head, and then pouted, her eyes red and puffy from the tears. "You'd better! You'd better promise it on the Founder, the Gods, your surname, and everything else! You'd better write it down a hundred times too and pray!"

I chuckled, and proceeded to embrace gently the young girl in my arms. "My, my, I'll do my very best."

The carriage we were on stopped once we arrived near the shores of the Ragdorian lake, near the border. The patrols meant for that particular corner had been told not to bother with patrolling on that day, and since the order had come from the man in charge of them to begin with, they had neatly obeyed and gone do something more productive with their lives elsewhere. Josette was waiting, alone and with a look that showed just how much she was determined -which was practically a mixture of scared out of her wits and terrified- with luggage by her side.

Raven stood protectively near her, his plumage hiding most of her like a bird would hide his newborn, but he cawed happily at my sight, and took off to the skies the next second. He had a few more tasks to complete still, and hopefully, he'd manage without fault.

Although it was obvious that the ones who had held Josette safe were in Tristain, it was also obvious that one couldn't levy accusations to nobility like the Valliere if there was no physical proof of any wrongdoings. Even if Josette talked about her time spent there, one could simply argue that it was the Duke's ploy to accuse a now rival family. It wouldn't hold any water. No, to be honest, the only troublesome event that could occur from Josette's return to her family would be the Duke demanding a duel. It was the only thing.

Since the court was firmly on Joseph's side now that the political situation had stabilized and he had emerged king, lawfully crowned and all of that, he was the King, and to conjure against the King would be folly -chosen of the Gods and all of that tripe- at least, at the present and especially with the rival for the throne being one with a child of woe.

When I descended from the carriage, I waited for a brief second to allow Isabella to come down too. Josette's eyes widened, and then briefly she exhaled in relief, a hand clutching the neckline of her robes. Her long, blue hair shone prettily enough against the rays of the sun, and she looked every bit like Charlotte, even if her attitude and demeanor were noticeably...milder, to put it in an easy to understand term.

She was also pretty much surrounded by the knights of our escort, the dragoons up in the air circling like vultures their prey.

Once we drew close enough that Josette recognized me, her expression lost most of her fear. "Brother!" she said, then hesitated as she realized there was Isabella by my side. "I-"

"It's all right," I said gently, stepping closer still, "everything is going to be all right," as soon as I was close enough, Josette barreled for my chest, hugging me tightly. I huffed with a smile on my lips, even as Isabella's expression looked on with a curious and puzzled expression.

She was wearing a pretty dress, probably one that had once belonged to Louise, and she looked every bit the proper young lady. She stopped sniffling when Isabella coughed gently in the closed fist of her hand, and as she turned to look at her cousin, the two lightly blue haired girls looked at one another.

"You do look every bit like my little Helene," Isabella said, "But I suppose your name should be little Josette? I'm Isabella, your cousin."

"You're...the princess?" Josette mumbled, wiping away her tears before doing a curtsy that was proper, if a bit slow as if trying her hardest to make it come out perfect. "I'm Josette-It's...nice to meet you."

Isabella giggled, and shook her head. "There's no need to curtsy with me. We're family. Now come on here," she gestured at her to get closer, and then smiled warmly as she engulfed the younger girl into a hug. "I am sure you're scared, but...everything will be fine," she smiled. "My Henry-I'm never going to forgive you for keeping such a cute cousin of mine locked away," she huffed, pinching a cheek of Josette, who widened her eyes in surprise and flailed her arms in a sort of quite cute way. "She's so cute! Just like Helene, but...a bit less excited? Can that be? A calm Helene?" she gingerly pulled the cheek up and down lightly, even amidst the growing tears of Josette. "Oh! Wait-don't cry," Isabella stopped pinching the cheek, even as Josette grabbed on to the sore area with her hands, a sad pout on her face.

"Brother..." Josette whined, "She's mean."

"I most certainly am not mean!" Isabella huffed, "Now-look here," she fretted over her cousin with a worried expression, "Henry, say something to her-she's not listening to me-" she whined next, and I found myself with the unenviable position of having to pat the head of Josette while Isabella looked on with eyes that seemed to scream unfair adulterer!

"Now, now," I said with a sigh. "Isabella's a really nice girl when you get to know her, Josette. Come on now, let's get back in the carriage-is this all of your luggage?"

"Uh-uh," Josette mumbled, looking at the luggage and moving as if to grab it, only for Isabella to link arms with her and drag her along towards the carriage. "But-"

"We'll have one of the knights of the escort carry it," Isabella said with a huff, "Now come on," and with that said, she actually waited patiently until Josette was aboard before climbing herself. I joined the two a short while later, and took my seat by Isabella's side.

The carriage departed again, this time headed for the D'Orleans mansion. Within it, the young twin of Charlotte was squirming in nervousness, her hands gripping on the edge of a Founder's book -not the official treasure of Tristain, but a copy that kind of acted like a bible of sorts. She must have held it close to her and I hadn't noticed it, perhaps.

"Hey little Josette," Isabella said suddenly, "why aren't you happy? You should be excited to meet your family again!"

"I've...I've caused trouble to brother with this," Josette whispered, "I've made-a lot of people sad," she bit her lower lip, "I don't-didn't want to leave, but..." she clutched her Founder's prayers book tighter, "I would have caused more trouble if I hadn't." She swallowed. "I hope...I hope I can meet with my friends again."

"You most certainly will," Isabella said with a nod. "I'll ensure it-now, let us hope your father is in a forgiving mood," she continued. "Because if he isn't, then all sorts of things will happen."

"I'll just face him off. I am sure it won't be to the death-"

"Accidents happen," Isabella clicked her teeth, her eyes smoldering pits of firm seething anger. "Please go back on your idea. Please."

"What is going on?" Josette asked suddenly, her eyes wide, "Is brother in danger?"

"He's a fool!" Isabella yelled, "That's what he is! I've been telling him-"

I palmed my face as Isabella explained, and soon, the voices telling me that this was a really bad idea increased in number by one -or so to say, they doubled.

Still, I was set on my purpose.

The Duke D'Orleans was younger than Joseph, but still way past his prime.

He couldn't be that scary now if a poisoned bolt claimed his life now, could he?

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Ninety

It is by accepting one's own fault, and shouldering responsibilities, that one grows as a person. Those who run away, or shy from their duties-they will never achieve anything of worth. If such duty requires to stand in front of a father whose daughter you kidnapped, and hid from him, then so be it.

"You hid my daughter from me," the Duke D'Orleans spoke crisply, without heat in his voice, but without any form of peaceful intentions either. A spell to remove illusions had been cast, and yet when Josette had remained her blue-haired self and with her traits as they were, Marie D'Orleans had rushed with tears and screams of delight to hug her long lost daughter, clutching her tightly as if afraid she'd go away if she dropped the hold.

"You renounced her in the first place," I replied firmly, locking eyes with the man. "You left her in the monastery of Saint Margarita-when I found out, I recovered her to give her the life she should have had."

"And when I came begging my brother to look for her-you already had her by then, did you not?" Charles asked, his lips thin in displeasure. "Yet, you still went looking for her. How much did my brother laugh at my misery? How much did he truly enjoy seeing me beg for his help? I loved my brother, and he-"

"Strange way of showing your love to him, causing troubles with retainers and buying off loyal subjects," I answered dryly, snorting and raising a hand in dismissal. "Don't claim innocence, Duke. It might work with the court, and it might work with your family, but you aren't perfect-and I know it intrinsically well." I narrowed my eyes. "Also, your brother did not know until much, much later. He found out when I brought back the corpse, to be honest."

"What reason was there for such a thing?!" the Duke snarled, "If you had given her back before-then I wouldn't have been fit as future king, wouldn't that be for the best?"

"The crown would have gone to Joseph regardless of her presence or not," I said honestly, "the only reason I didn't give her back earlier was because she wouldn't have been happy having to live risking her life. After all, if she were to die, then the chances of you inheriting the thrones would have gone back up right away, wouldn't they?"

"You..." Charles hissed, "Are you implying I would have my own daughter...killed?"

"I am not implying," I answered honestly. "The problem of people with pretty faces and warm smiles is that when they're lying, you can't be sure of it until you read their minds. Unfortunately, that's not something possible, so...did I dare take the risk with someone like you? In the end, I chose not to risk Josette's life."

Charles laughed at that, "You chose not to? You did it for her? Is that your excuse? The noble excuse you are going to use? Why not say it's all my brother's fault? He'd be petty enough to think this sort of thing, and don't think I haven't seen the ring at Isabella's finger-"

"The King is innocent," I snapped curtly. "It was my idea, my plan and myself who brought it all to completion. If you want to blame someone-then blame me. Joseph might have wished to take the blame in my stead, but I am the sole man responsible and guilty of it."

The Duke D'Orleans nodded firmly, "This calls for a duel," he said then, grasping one of his gloves and gingerly removing it. He then let it fall on the ground, bringing out his swordwand, eyes narrow. "I will need no second, nor nominate a champion."

"Neither will-" I replied calmly, only to be interrupted.

"Uncle! Henry!" Isabella's sharp voice was mixed with the utter paleness of her face, "What are you two thinking?!"

"Charles-please, we have our daughter back, our Josette," Marie D'Orleans pleaded as she held tightly to her chest Josette, "Don't spill blood on this day."

"Please don't!" Josette pleaded earnestly too, "Please-father...please."

Charles took a small breath, and for a brief instant, I thought it would work. I really thought it would work. "No," he said in the end, crushing my hopes that this would end without bloodshed.

I swallowed, and then nodded. "Very well," I said. "Then-the shores of the Ragdorian lake," I added.

"I will not stop until satisfied," Charles said firmly, glaring at me.

"May the gods be with me then," I answered in turn, and turned to walk away from him, and his family. We would meet by the shores of the lake, and there...there we would face each other. To the death, perhaps not. Till one of us could no longer fight, perhaps yes. To first blood? I doubted he'd stop at first blood.

Raven flew right down by my side, his breathing short, his eyes wide as he shared my inwards fears, but externalized them too. "Henry!" he cawed, his voice practically joined with that of Isabella, who drew near with her hands clasped together.

"Please think this through! It's not too late-a public apology, a written apology, an oath by the Founder-anything! Uncle looked mad-he is mad-he's going to kill you!" she babbled, but I simply shook my head and rubbed her hair once, much to her visible anger as she swatted my hand away.

"He'll hurt me really, really bad," I acquiesced. "But once he's satisfied..." I smiled, "Everything will be fine once more."

Isabella remained red with anger all the same. "You-" she hissed, "You stupid imbecile!" she yelled next, "It's like you don't care about me, or my opinion! I'm your wife-I'm your crown-princess! Henry-I command you-"

In answer, I knelt to be on a lower level than her, "You can most certainly command me to do so," I acquiesced, "And you can most certainly force me to do so," I added, "You can order me, and you can force me-but...ask yourself this," I remarked as Isabella took time to breathe, "after you've done that, after you've forced me like that-can you be sure I'll forgive you for such a thing?" I said gently. "I care about you, Isabella. And I care about your opinion. However...do you care about my opinion? Do you care about me?" I asked her, "Sometimes, we have to let the people we love do stupid things, because it's what they desperately want to do."

"You're throwing yourself in the fire head first!" Isabella wrung her hands, grasping hold of my cheeks with a firm tenacity and ferociousness the likes of which I had felt only by Eleonore's hands, "Don't you dare think I don't care about you, my Henry! But this-this is a madness bordering on the suicidal! You won't win! You have no chances at winning! No chances at all!"

"You don't know that," I managed to answer even as my cheeks began to burn from the pulling and squeezing and pinching they were subjected to. "You'll have to trust me."

Isabella's hands pulled my face towards her, and as she firmly planted a kiss on my lips, she let go a second later. "You better come back," she hissed. "You better."

I smiled, "You are the queen of my heart. Every one of your words...is my command. Also," I said as I stood back up, "I'm backed up by my trustworthy familiar. He's had my back for a long time now...he won't disappoint me."

"I won't!" Raven cawed with a nod, "Valhalla awaits...but it can keep waiting for us!" he added, gingerly rubbing his giant head against the sides of mine.

This made me chuckle, even as I grabbed hold of the soft feathers and inwardly prayed to the gods for a miracle to happen.

I was so screwed.

I was so screwed...it wasn't even funny how much I was screwed.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Ninety-One

The shores of the Ragdorian lake were quiet. The lake itself did not have many waves, and the few it had crashed against the shore silently. The silence between the two involved parties was deafening. My breast pocket had, as a good luck charm, Isabella's handkerchief within. By my side, Raven stood patiently, eyes beady and ready.

"Please, stop at first blood," Isabella managed to yell out from the sides, standing on the back of a dragon that the most trustworthy of knights of her retinue rode. Her hands tensed around a handkerchief that she was to let go to signal the countdown. She was twisting it with her fingers, her nervousness clear. "Beneath the Founder's gaze-in the name of the gods, let this duel be just, and the victor decided by the will of the gods-" she choked slightly on her next words, "may whoever wins be proved righteous, and whoever loses make peace with the gods."

She then extended the piece of cloth from her gloved hand, and let it go. As the dragon and the knights flew away to a safe distance, the handkerchief fluttered in the air for a bit, and then, softly, landed on the ground after what felt like ages, but had been perhaps a minute or less. This gave the time for both parties

Whips of water rushed forth from the tip of Charles' wand with such strength that they ruptured the ground upon their passages, the sound barrier shattering with sonic booms near instantaneously as shards of rock swiftly became deadly shrapnel within the nearby proximity, engulfed by the water whips themselves and thrust forward at blinding speeds.

Raven took flight hastily while a shield of iron emerged thick and tall in front of us, only for it to be cut to shreds within mere seconds, the shrapnel drilling holes into it with such a ferocity that it was clear that First Blood was a synonym for Maiming Wound or I am going to hurt you so badly you wish this duel was to the death.

I wasn't there though, having taken the wise way of disappearing below ground. If the enemy can't see you, he can't skewer you now, can he? Raven's altitude increased sharply, my commands to him pretty clear.

I couldn't dally down beneath the ground though, since my honor depended on it.

Also, the ground itself shook as the next chant of Charles shattered the spot I had been before, large pillars of stone and rock bursting forth and bringing my hiding spot into the light of the day. Unfortunately for him, I had finished my own chant, and as a shield of wind surrounded my frame, the incoming javelins of ice shattered against it, my teeth gritted as I held the shield up.

Any moment now, Raven.

Any moment now would be nice.

From the very heavens, descend did the Raven with talons sharp. Although, rather than slice with the sharpness of his claws, first it opened them to release the falling swords conjured prior to the duel, and left for him to use within it. This was kind of a grey area in the dueling code, but it wasn't said anywhere that one couldn't do it. The victor would decide on the fairness of such a method, since at the present, I was trying my hardest to hold on to my wind shield.

The blades fell rapidly in the direction of the Duke, but this didn't make the Duke stop his chanting. He simply moved away, using his swordwand to deflect the incoming blades with a grace that had me stare in wonder for a brief second. How could a man do something like that? Was he perhaps on drugs? Did he have superhuman reflexes? Was this what facing a Gary Stu was like? It did make him alter his target to Raven, who kept swooping down towards him.

In that instant, I ran forward closing the distance.

Two against one, hardly fair, but truly guaranteed to-

Imagine a tsunami. Imagine a tsunami of ice. Imagine a tsunami of ice that leaves the tip of a wand and increases to unforeseen heights and widths, with the edges sharp, spikes of ice emerging from the side that is coming at swift speed against you. Imagine that you can feel it coming, that you can feel the cold, frozen winds come for your own life-if this was a First Blood meant to skewer and hurt, then I dreaded thinking about what he'd do to people he wanted to actually kill. It was a First Blood that would easily mean months of rehabilitation if it had hit head-on, and I wasn't looking forward to any of that.

"Burning flames!" I bellowed as twisting fires left the tip of my wand, impacting against the incoming spikes long enough to melt them from sharp-beyond-believe to bluntness, which slammed yet against my frame, taking away my breath as I found myself thrown on the ground once more amidst the screams from the sides.

So this was the power of Square magic. Truly, a terrifying power.

What sort of deal with the devil did I need to sign in order to get my hands on it? No, seriously-this was my fault, wasn't it? I had grown lazy, complacent-faced against such a thing, with such a difference in power unmistakable-I was being humbled, or perhaps, tortured into humility.

Raven's cawing caught my attention, the agonizing sound wrenching something in my heart as my eyes snapped to where I had last seen in. Sharp javelins of ice had buried deep into his frame, blood spurting out of the wounds as the ice began to melt. Charles hadn't wasted time, and since Raven had flown away as fast as possible, he hadn't been able to dodge the incoming projectiles. I rushed in his direction, "No, no, no-wait!" I came to an abrupt halt by my familiar's side, his breathing hard and gasping as his feathers were now slick with blood. "Healing water-"

"Furious winds," came the voice of Charles, utterly emotionless, utterly uncaring. Twisting tornadoes lashed out in our direction, and as I turned to face them and bring up an iron shield, the ice kept melting, and thus the blood kept pouring out. The Duke's voice was monotone, so used to dueling in the name of his brother, had he perhaps grown used and callous to the pleads of mercy of his opponents? I looked at the blade of my swordwand, and grabbed it with my left hand, slicing my palm alongside its edge.

"See here! First blood-you've won!"

The twisting tornadoes stopped briefly, and the Duke stared, his face hard. "As the offended party...I am not satisfied yet."

His wand came up once more, and just as he restarted his chanting, I sharply turned to start my own. Even if it wasn't long enough, if I could at least stop the bleeding-

"Henry-" Raven cawed, coughing even as his wings flapped. "Henry-fly away-"

"Healing waters that are born of the Founder's mercy, the kindness extended by the gentle powers of the elements of Water are unquestionable-I shall nurture and help you along the way-let there not be wound that cannot heal with compassion and faith, let there not be-" as I chanted furiously, the blood stopped flowing out, the wounds began to close-it was working, if only it could work faster.

A billowing tempest of ice, a snowstorm by all means, no-a skewering filled with sharp, deadly edges of ice and crystal. This was Charles', whose runic name was The Ice, signature spell. A blizzard of unparalleled dimensions, a snowstorm that was meant to rip and shred with merciless precision, who spoke of ice age cold winters and devastating, frozen storms-and as it came towards me, towards us, towards Raven's wounded body and my pitiful frame, I heard it.

I heard the wind's hollowing screams and the agony it felt.

"Be at peace, be calm," I whispered as I changed my chant, turning my wand from Raven's prone body to the incoming deadly blizzard, "Winds that rupture and bellow and scream, rest your weary selves. Peace be upon you-" the ice began to freeze my fingers, sharp edges slicing a hundred cuts on my extended arm, "And in the name of the Founder, tranquil breezes-take their place!" I roared over the blizzard itself, over the ice and the snow that suffocated my breathing, that clutched my throat.

The blizzard's winds stopped screaming as the ice fell uselessly on the ground like sharp razors and knives, thumping as they hit the dirt one after the other. I snorted, and compacted snow and ice left my nostrils, caked in the blood of the cut skin. There was blood on the ground, but I didn't hurt, because ice had dulled the nerves. No, it wasn't that it didn't hurt, it was that it burned, it burned all over. Thus, because it burned, the sensation of burning took precedence over everything else.

Raven's breathing was ragged and short, but he'd live if attended to. He had been wounded, but not that deeply, not that much. The wounds had already closed, the ice had melted off his frame. He was resting now, his eyes closed.

By the time I stood back up on my feet, a water whip had reached ultrasonic speed and came cruising for my swordwand, shattering it in a thousand bits, driving deep gouges in my right hand -the product of the very handle of the swordwand exploding in my grip from the concussive force of the blast. I held back the screams even as my hand burned and bled, the blood now pouring down freely from the deep cut. I looked at the Duke D'Orleans. He wasn't showing any emotions, like a proper noble during a duel should. This-it was funny in hindsight. I really should have chosen a champion for this, right?

He didn't really want to kill me, did he?

I should have chosen someone else.

Then why hadn't I? There had to be a limit to my foolishness. Perhaps it was contagious?

I could feel the blood trickle down my hand, fall on the ground, even as I-even as I thought the Duke wouldn't aim to kill me...even as I thought that...I had misjudged the man's character. Of course he would kill me. Was it his wife who actually hid Josette? Not him? And if so-did she hide her...from him as well? Behind those smiles-was there a heartless foe? Had I been right? Was he going to silence me because of my remarks about buying retainers and-and...everything else?

The next blow would probably be for my neck. Now I stood there, defeated and lacking a wand. If he'd start chanting once more, then it would make his intentions clear.

I really should have brought a spare wand. Ah...I felt something wet lick my bleeding hand. It was Raven's tongue, perhaps he was trying to console me in these last moments of ours? Well-what do you say in times like these?

"Sorry," I whispered as I heard the Duke D'Orleans chant once more. "I shouldn't have dragged you down with me, my friend."

"For those...we cherish," Raven croaked, "We die...in glory."

The chant finished, and the noise of another whip surpassing the speed of sound echoed. I saw it come, I saw it come faster than the blinking of my eyes. I saw it come, and stared with pure fright as the black of Raven's feathers moved to protect me with his whole frame, his wings clutching me in his last embrace. I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes and I screamed.

And then I heard it crash against the ground.

"Now, I am satisfied," Charles said sharply, sheathing his swordwand with a sordid click.

I gasped for air as I fell down on my knees, all strength leaving my body as relief washed over my features.

I was alive.

I was alive and all was well.

I was alive, all was well, and no one had died.

I chuckled at first, and then I began to laugh even as I tightly held on to Raven's body and hugged him for all of his worth.

"We're alive!" I cried out against Raven's plumage. "We're alive!"

"Alive!" Raven yelled back with a joyful cry of his own. "Alive! I love you! I love you!"

"I shall be going back first," and with those words said, the Duke D'Orleans soared in the air with a simple spell, rushing back to the mansion while, at the same time, a flock of knights came in the opposite direction of him, Isabella being at the lead of them.

That was how she found me.

Laughing vicariously with Raven.

She didn't look pleased of my state, but I couldn't have cared less.

She definitely wasn't pleased when I engulfed her in a hug that was a mixture of sweat, blood and grime and black feathers, which stained her dress irremediably, as she yelled at me even amidst my arms and Raven's wings.

I couldn't care less.

Because I was still alive.

Still alive.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Ninety-Two

Once patched up by the local water mages, we left Josette to her family without even a goodbye. To say that there was frost between myself and the Duke was to put it mildly...or perhaps, mildew?

I found myself chuckling despite the pain I felt from the cuts in my hands. The rocking of the carriage didn't help, since it made my blood kind of boil, and the skin in turn felt as if somebody was constantly pinching it. It had to be mental -I was sure they had removed all the bigger bits and pieces of wand that had remained stuck in it, and the splinters would come out on their own, hopefully.

"Is there something funny, husband?" Isabella asked quite flatly, refusing to look at me -especially because of how poorly I had reduced her dress- and yet not letting go of my left hand all the same.

"Just...nothing," I said with a sigh. "For what it matters, it went as I expected."

"For what it matters?" Isabella mumbled, turning her gaze towards me. "For what it matters? We are the only thing that should matter to you, husband, and we are not pleased. We are not pleased at all."

"This taught me a valuable lesson in humility," I remarked, trying to smile gently, "And I won't be doing stuff like this again-at least, not until I find some private tutors to train me-"

"Train you?!" Isabella's hair began to rise. "Train you in what, exactly? The art of dueling? Preposterous! Something so dangerous-doing it repeatedly? Are you out of your mind? This was the only time-Henry, must you make my hair turn white before the time?" she pouted, exhaling loudly. "But when you're set-I guess trying to convince you would be meaningless. Fine! I'm a merciful wife. If you want to train, then do so with someone I pick." Her head dropped down against my shoulder, and her breathing evened out. "I'm tired. So many emotions...I'm tired," she pouted next, pulling my left arm up and then back down, letting it hug her as she left her head on my lap.

I sighed in turn, returning my gaze to the landscape outside.

"Henry," Isabella said suddenly. "To make me forgive you-tell me a story."

"This tall tale begins..." I hummed, "A long, long time ago, in a realm far away. The merciless empire, guided by the tyrannical President Palpatine, and aided by his most vicious henchmen, Darth Vader, used their magic to oppress the people into doing their bidding. Opposing them was a rebellion, one made of just faithful of Brimir-"

Isabella listened as I spoke of the deserted kingdom of Coruscant, where a young farmer by the name of Luke Skywalker had grown-not realizing his destiny, or his ancestry.

By the time the carriage came to a halt within the courtyard of my palace in Brittany, Isabella was peacefully snoring. I sighed as I lifted her up with my arms, the temporary pain nothing to hiss at. She was light, after all. In charge of a Duchy, with a group of highly competent assassins at her beck and call, and yet she couldn't weight more than...what? Fifty? Forty? Thirty? How much did a normal fourteen years old weight again? Wasn't she going to turn fifteen soon enough though? Another year was just about to come to an end, wasn't it?

Was she eating properly? Was it normal for her to be this small? Did she refuse to eat her vegetables or something?

It was with quite the delicateness that I left her in the tender hands of the maids assigned to undress her, and since they were capable of dressing her up even with their eyes closed, they could do the same with her as tired as she was-they even drew her a bath too, apparently.

I stepped outside her rooms and went straight for my office, where newly received letters stood unopened.

I dreaded opening the letters with the Valliere crest more than I dreaded opening the rest of them. The letters had been written by my sister or my mother, or perhaps both, and seemed to be reeking with anger. If this was an anime of sorts, I'd be seeing the letters emit dark fumes and a pair of glaring red eyes stand over them -it was the impression such letters gave me, and yet...yet I found myself opening the first of them all the same, even as a servant opened the window of my office, the fluttering of wings announcing that Raven had perched himself on the edge of the balcony itself.

His nest was there, after all.

"How are you?" I asked in a whisper, my fingers moving to rip the first of the many letters open -ignoring the letter opener a servant had brought to me upon a silver platter. I dismissed the servants with a wave of the hand and came to a halt next to my familiar. Raven flapped his wings and cawed happily by my side.

"Happy!" Raven said. "You?"

"Glad to be alive," I exhaled even as I unfolded the letter, wincing at the tone the letter had been written with.

Dear brother,

Jean-Jacques agrees with me in stating that the air of Gallia must be doing you no good. Where has my wise brother gone? I have received news of the letter you sent mother-the one about Josette having to return home, and you should have seen how much Lulu was crying because of that! She said you were no longer her favorite brother, but when I pointed out you were her only brother, she said you were no longer her favorite sibling. Well, since you made Lulu cry like that, you're no longer my favorite sibling either! Louise and I have each other as favorites-take that, you mean brother!

By the time this letter reaches you, I hope you are fine. Jean-Jacques has declared himself willing to face the odds in your stead should the need arise-please, simply write him back and he will come as soon as possible to be your champion. Do not make us worry so much, brother. Mother said the chances were high a duel would be invoked-please, consider that Jean-Jacques is a candidate for the position of captain of the Griffin Knights.

Also, mother has started doing double the amounts of patrols, perhaps she'd be willing to take your place in a duel should the need arise-whatever happens, brother, please, please, please-

Three pleases? Cattleya, that's three please too much, isn't it?

-don't duel anyone. The kind brother I know of would never fight to hurt someone. I know-we all know. Brother is so kind, he never uses his Wind spells-please reconsider that at least! Mother-even mother says that she's the proudest whenever she hears you chant a wind spell. Please at the very least-

The parchment had tiny smudges, the result of tears, or of marks of spit due to a sudden fit of cough?

-do your best. I trust in brother to write me a letter back saying that everything was solved with his wise words. I trust in my brother to be there for my marriage. So please...I'll pray for you in the name of the Founder and the gods.

With all of my love and my prayers,

your worried sister.

I folded the letter and sighed. "For the people we cherish, we die in glory," I remarked by Raven's side. "I would have thought you'd use the blood raven's one."

Raven cawed, flapping his wings. "Knowledge is power," he cawed softly, "Guard it well." His beak twitched, as if he was smiling. He then hopped closer, and pressed his right wing against my left side. As I gently let my body rest against his side, I proceeded to open the second letter.

"Or hell, maybe the Raven Guard itself," I said.

"Victorus aut mortis," Raven and I both said at the same time, "Victory or death," I blinked as I looked up at the patch of white feathers on Raven's plumage, "You even have their colors," I dryly noted. "Have you faith in the God-Emperor?" I whispered with a chuckle, even as I unfolded the second letter with the Valliere crest.

Son,

Ouch. This was mother.

The pitiful attempts of your father to calm me down have failed. I acknowledged that your whole plan was folly, and I understand that your desire to see it through by yourself is truly the mark of an adult. At the same time, there is no disgrace in doing as countless others have done. Should you...should you find yourself in need of a second, although it has been a while, I am sure I can find someone willing to participate. A friend of mine-

Mother, let's not kid ourselves. You'd have put on an iron mask and come feigning to be someone else. I know it. You know it. We'd just politely feign ignorance about it.

-would be delighted to honor a debt she has towards me. Should you still wish to see your honor through by yourself-then remember that you are the linchpin that keeps the kingdom of Tristain whole. At least, until you have a child.

When are you going to consumate-

And we just entered creepy territory here, mother, so I'll cut you off and skim the lines. Ah-here we go, back to non-creepy territory.

Write back about your intentions, Henry. Or write back about your victory, or your sound beating. However, write back or I will come and personally teach you the basics of letter-writing that you seem to have forgotten.

With my best wishes, and my most sincere affections,

Duchess Karin de la Valliere.

I sighed.

"So..." I mumbled-

"Into the anvils of battle!" Raven cawed, making me jump slightly from the surprise. Did he want to play at Remember the Warcry?

"No?" I replied with an eyebrow raised as soon as my heart calmed down. "It's into the fires of battle, unto the anvils of war."

"Oh," Raven blinked, and then scuttled a bit closer once more. "Sorry. I made a mistake." He cawed in a series of short caws, which was similar to a chuckling verse. "I...I am the machine, and I will not be denied!" he cawed most seriously, huffing his feathered chest.

"Brothers!" I said with a knowing nod, "For vengeance!"

"For purity!" Raven cawed back. "In hatred, be strong!"

"In valor, be sure!" I grinned, "In vengeance, be foremost."

"In suffering! In glory!" we both said at the same time.

I dropped down to sit on the edge of Raven's nest, and he in turn dropped down to his normal nesting position, if with one of his wings to act as my blanket against the chilly night.

"Men of Tanith," I whispered as I yawned, the tiredness of the trip catching up to me softly and quietly, like a skilled assassin waiting for the right moment to strike. "Do you want to live forever?"

"Who wants to live forever?" Raven replied in turn with a hum, a long, drawn out hum. A nostalgic hum. "Who dares to love forever?"

I wondered what had brought up this fit of nostalgia. Even as I wondered it though, I still let it go.

"When love must die..." I mumbled as sleep claimed me without a second chance. I was somewhere warm, my wounds weren't even hurting that much anymore, and I could always take a bath when I woke up.

Of course, I was woken up the next morning by a cold shower of sorts.

Isabella wasn't pleased I had slept in the same nest as my familiar.

I had survived her uncle though-was a man not allowed a prize for such a daring action? Why could I not sleep hugging my most delicious feathered pillow of a familiar? What sort of cruel, horrible person would deny a man such a prize?

This world was unfair. This world...was truly unfair!

 

[Tabi]

A quickie before I head for a catering job.

Isabella wasn't pleased I had slept in the same nest as my familiar.

Click to shrink...

Master Henry was elsewhere tonight. Unfortunately, Isabella knew he was up to no good and went to interrogate him. How unfortunate for her that the Raven was to detain her indefinitely.

Raven looked down at his master's mate. She glared up at him and was saying something. Was it important? He didn't really know. Nor care.

Oh, look at that. She's making that adorable face and-! Oh, the little thing was trying to threaten him! How adorable! Raven's heart seized for a moment at the sheer cuteness of the human female. Master would pat her on the head and calm her down with sweet tender nothings. Raven had a better idea.

With agility and grace belying his size, the familiar swept Isabella into his nest. She cried out in surprise, falling onto his soft and fluffy plumage.

"S-stupid familiar! This is highly improper! We will not stand for this insolence!"

Raven tilted his head and crooned, shifting his weight so her body pressed against his lovely scented feathers.

"...you're warm..."

"Pleasantly fluffy. You love Henry. I love Henry. We miss Henry! I am lonely. Please stay with me tonight?"

The wisp of a human fell still. And the Raven knew triumph.

"I... um..." Indecision warred with a childish desire to cuddle with something fluffy, that intrinsic instinct of all young girls to throw aside and descend into impropriety.

Raven made the decision for her and wrapped a wing around her, like a warm blanket.

Isabella tensed, but as the seconds passed by, she gradually relaxed.

"Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?" Asked the Raven, his voice a whisper.

"Y-you can sing?" Whispered Isabella, her interest piquing.

"The snow in the air
To sing me a lullaby
My winter, come hither to me

"The dark nights to come
So, kiss me for good-bye
The grace of the godland is near to you"

"Show me the flowers invisible
Sing me the hymns inaudible
The wind is my voice
The moon is my heart
Come find me, I'm on every hills and fields
I'm here... ever your near...
Sing for your love, gone so far in the past
Pray for the world, that you may rest in peace

"The snow in the air
To sing me a lullaby
The angel of rebirth is here

"So let all your pain
Sleep within the husha-by
The grace of the godland
Grace of the godland
Grace of the godland is near...
So close to you..."

Raven let the song end. She was asleep. And his master would be home soon. With croissants and jam. His reward for a job well done. He tucked his head down and closed his eyes.
"Henry, welcome home! We love you!"

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Ninety-Three

My blood didn't run cold, as much as stop flowing for a singularly infinite instant. Still, I picked up my swordwand and respectfully waited for my opponent to do the same. The man in question bowed with a charming smile, and the next, our blades crossed. There was a blunting spell on them, but it would still hurt slightly if one ended up getting poked in the eye -and considering just how effective swordwands were, one had to aim at the head to properly train in their use.

His swordsmanship was excellent. It was honestly faster than Jean-Jacques' own, the movements fluid and yet none were unnecessary. Trying to mimic his stance, his motions, his everything-well, it was difficult, but not impossible. The fact he didn't seem to have a limit to his speed made every parry or deflection feel like I've been coming too slow, but he slowed each time short of actually passing through my guard, letting the blow glance away.

The training room we were in had servants alongside its walls, watching in silence as the only noise barring my breath was that of the blades intersecting.

"So," I said. "I didn't know there was someone with your skills in the palace's services," I remarked. The man in question simply smiled, deflecting an incoming thrust with ease that made it look as if I'd been thrusting with a block of wood, rather than a sword. I had been trained by the best-and yet here we were, myself being toyed with. It was kind of frustrating on one part, but on the other...what did I expect?

"I keep to myself," the man replied with a humming tone, thrusting in turn and getting the attack swatted away. "I don't like doing unnecessary things."

"I see," I replied, "yet your skills are quite high. You must have trained for quite a long time to sharpen them," I said calmly, our blades crossing and then separating. Sidestepping to the side to avoid a thrust, I thrust in turn, only for the man to do pretty much the same. We began to circle one another, each sidestep accompanied by a thrust, a parry, or a crossing of blades.

"Thank you for the praise, your grace," the man said. "It is all natural talent however," he added with a smile before suddenly changing the direction of his sidestep, bringing down his free hand to chop down the wrist that held my sword and then placing the tip of his own against my neck. "Nothing more." He smiled as he took a few steps back, bowing nimbly.

I exhaled, and as a servant neared to wipe away the sweat, I inwardly grumbled. I could do that myself, but it would be considered an uncouth thing to do. The fact that there was a servant assigned to wiping away the sweat of my brow-truly, I wondered about what letters home he'd send. Oh dear, today I have swiped the sweat off two knights, one lady and the prince-consort, it was such a fulfilling day!

I chuckled softly as the commoner returned to his spot by the wall.

"Very well," I said with a smile. "However, there are some ground rules I wish to instate."

The man raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Firstly...that was not the height of your skills. You cannot hide that from me, and that you even tried...well, I'm disappointed," I said smoothly. "Secondly, following the pretty rules of dueling is nice and fun...until someone's fighting for his own life, in which case they are pretty much meaningless. I wish to learn how to fight, not how to duel." I smiled. "And finally, I do not want sugarcoated or honeyed words. If my abilities are so horrible as to deserve a special award for how much I am incapable with a sword, then by all means, say so. I find honesty refreshing."

"I would not say your ability with a sword is bad, your grace," the man answered, thinking it through for a bit. "But it does need polishing. A lot."

I smiled. "Then, what are we waiting for?"

That was how I ended up training swordsmanship with a certain Bleu, a blond-haired totally normal knight of the Western Parterre I had never heard heads or tails of. Isabella, dear, is there somewhere you won't put your spies?

My stay in Petite Troyes had been practically ordered by Isabella, mostly out of concern that I needed to heal properly from the duel with the Duke, but the truth was that she wanted me somewhere she could keep an eye on me while she ran damage control once the news got out of Josette's return, and my actions throughout it. Even though I had claimed full responsibility, there was more than one noble that simply didn't believe it so, and instead remarked on how it was just a surprising coincidence that Isabella had a ring on her finger given to her by the King, and how I'd been seen repeatedly remark on my loyalty to the Crown.

Most certainly, the Prince-Consort who's so quiet during court was simply swept along and did as the King ordered him to do. Even taking the blame on himself for the actions of the king-truly an example of loyalty, as befitting of the son of the Heavy Wind.

There also were nobles who believed the exact opposite, of course. To keep the crown in the hands of Joseph, he blackmailed the Duke D'Orleans into staying away from court. Such underhanded tactics-but such a type of voice didn't last long.

Whether or not Isabella had something to do with that, I didn't bother asking.

I sighed as I watched Raven fly in the air, my afternoon mostly dedicated to reading Holy Books on chants. The rebellion in Albion had swept up most of the Barons of the country, and the vast majority of the commoners in the army had fallen into Reconquista's hands. Whether Joseph was helping them with Myoz or not, the truth of the matter was that Albion's revolutionaries would have won anyway, with or without his help. The whole army refused to follow the King of Albion, themselves or their families starving, and the Reconquista promised fairer ruling with a council of sorts.

The usual tripe of promising democracy in order to achieve dictatorship, spun around with a bit of holy order complex and a sprinkling of We will give you food! which was actually a doable goal if Reconquista had nobles of other countries amidst their kin, willing to send humanitarian aid to their brethren in the White Country.

Thus, it didn't matter. Rumors of the holy void belonging to Cromwell would not spread, but victory of the rebels would be assured unless they managed to acquire some form of aid from the other countries-and they wouldn't, because the troubles of royalty with a kingdom concerned that royalty, and that kingdom, by themselves.

"There you are, dear," Isabella said as she came into view from the corner of my eye, her ladies in attendance gingerly following behind her. As she sat down, servants began to bring her the usual fare of tea, sugar and milk. "I have heard you have been training hard," she began, and I simply sighed.

"Your worries for my person are endearing, Isabella, but I truly will not stab myself with a sword by mistake, whether or not you have people telling you everything I do," I glanced at her, and smiled gently. "Queen Marianne's birthday party is coming up soon. It will be by the shores of the Ragdorian lake, and thus...I was thinking..."

"No," Isabella said offhandedly, "You weren't thinking properly."

Silence settled for a few seconds.

"Isabella," I said with a sigh.

"Henry," Isabella replied without much of an inflection in her voice.

"I am going," I said calmly. "It has been a while since I last danced with you, and I am sure there will be beautiful firework magic and the finest food and wine, but mostly, if we don't go, then I won't be able to show off my beautiful wife. That is quite the grievous sin, is it not?"

"You really like pressing your luck like this, don't you?" Isabella grumbled, huffing as she took a sip of her milk with honey, sugar and a bit of tea on it. "Very well," she conceded. "But you will have to keep me company while the royal tailors prepare my dress for the ball."

I inwardly howled in pain, and Raven, up in the air, cawed in answer.

"It will be my pleasure, my dear wife," I answered with a strained smile.

Isabella, by her part, simply grinned at me.

...

The things I did for the people I cherished.