"Do you want to? I had thought your assignment was to win me in a staring competition. Or would you rather I plead you to tell me the results of your scouring?"
"No Sir, I apologize." Alexander sighed. How did he appoint such men as his most elite soldiers and spies? Suddenly, he feared for his kingdom. Brimsbol began. "The land thieves have been apprehended and thrown in the dungeon, but the wares of the villagers could not be recovered. Farm produce and livestock, gone. They had successfully sold it before we could catch up with them." He became incredulous. A terrible pause ensued. Then, "Excuses! Excuses!! Excuses!!!" He exploded, scaring Brimsbol, Edmund and the other servants who stood around the artificial shade. His eyes remained on the man. He had not meant to yell, but from the report the men had given him, to the news he received the day before from his spies, the frustration had finally caught up to him, vexing him in ways unfathomable. He breathed deeply and strongly. "What good would apprehending them do for the villagers then? Their goods have been lost and you bring me prisoners. Do you know what that means?" Silence. "Answer me! Do you know what it means?!" Brimsbol shook his head vigorously. "No, Your Majesty, I do not." "They lose faith in me, in my reign, in my authority! And the thieves are becoming ever bolder to attempt vandalism so close to Mainecroft Castle!" He was livid. "I'll tell you what it means. It means, elite soldier, that those unfortunate villagers would be fed from the nation's coffers, and do you know what happens when you tamper with planned values?" Brimsbol's head shook again, vibrating from fear. "You create a void and limit the space, because to prevent starvation, I might forgo security, or shelter, or health!" "I am truly sorry, Your Majesty, please forgive me." He rose to his feet, quivering. Alexander exhaled deeply. He saw the fear but could not be bothered. "Get out of my sight." He mumbled. His voice was barely audible but the scared man heard him clearly and did not hesitate for a moment. "And do not cease your search for their goods!" He yelled after the fleeing man. Incompetent, they had become, all of them! Undermining his authority and returning with lame and vexing justification for their incompetence. How was he to rule his kingdom effectively when such inept people surrounded him? And trust? How was he to trust anyone when even his brother would lie to him? How could Brand keep the affairs of the kingdom from him? It was his kingdom! He was king and until otherwise, he would know of all that happened within. "Edmund!" He called. The servant appeared to stand inches from him, standing to his side. He observed the man. "Have the letters been sent out?" "Yes, Your Majesty." He said. "They were sent out at dawn yesterday. To the Ministers and the Solicitors, to the Viscounts of Ackley and of Sorway, the Dukes of Chamberleane, Wynton, Waichester, and Carlisle and to His Highness, the Prince." He was confirming the receivers, Alexander noticed, but at least he was somewhat reliable. "You may depart. All of you." Edmund bowed, and leading the other servants away, they left him to his solitude. Alexander poured himself another cup of water. The council was to gather in a day, and gather they must for he had called for them. Men and fortunes of the realm that he commanded. The Lords he ruled over, one of which he called friend; and of course his brother. He was looking forward to their meeting somehow. He was looking forward to seeing Carlisle after so long. Besides his mood, he smiled. * * * The sun rose that morning with as much energy as it did the day before, slow and without enthusiasm, struggling behind the gloomy clouds to establish itself. The single light thrived against the dreary weather, but its lack of enthusiasm was not enough to stop the activities of the day. After his breakfast – or the excuse of it as he had had no appetite – Alexander immersed himself in the duties of his office, while the servants busied about, preparing the castle for the arriving guests. The council meeting would be of great importance to his kingdom, and although he would rather die than admit it, he knew of the importance of the men he had assembled for it, men whose wealth and authority were needed, and demanded. As he left the Spring Salon after his meeting with the head of the royal guards, Alexander realized how greedy and how great a coward St. James was. He had just approved the release of fifty men from the royal guards as St. James had asked for. His feet made light taps on the floor as he made his way to the courtroom, going to attend to his never-ending duties and his non stop complaining subjects. Edmund, as always, walked behind him, following and ready to come to him when he called. "Your Majesty, a note arrived for you at breakfast." He said. Alexander did not stop. "And I would hear of it now?" "I apologize, Sire. But you have been occupied for every second ever since." "Who is it from?" "The Duke of Carlisle." Edmund replied. Carlisle? He was on his way down to the castle, why send a note? He couldn't possibly be sending an excuse, could he? "Tell me what it contains." He heard the rustling of paper. "He says that he is close by, but he has guests and would like them catered to." Edmund said. Alexander's feet stopped abruptly. He turned to see Edmund inches from him, having stopped himself. "Carlisle brings a guest?" "It says so here, My Lord." His eyebrows hitched from excitement. "You do not suppose it is Lady Cossington now, do you?" Edmund shrugged his shoulders. "I would never fathom, Sire." Alexander sighed, his excitement dying a natural death. He wondered why he bothered at all. His manservant was many things; knowledgeable, aware, sometimes fast in thoughts, and a good serving man, but he was incredibly terrible at conversations. Commanding, he said. "Read the note to me." Edmund cleared his throat. "It says, 'Your Majesty, I received your summons and I am currently enroute to the castle as commanded, but I am with guests and would want them greatly cared for. Do not overthink.' After which, he signed, Sire." Alexander laughed and continued on the journey to the courtroom. Carlisle was with a guest, but it wasn't his affianced, he was perfectly certain. And he was asked not to overthink? He smirked. How could he not when he had been asked not to. "Edmund, prepare for Carlisle's guests." "Yes Sire. Your other guests are waiting in the courtroom." Edmund bowed and excused himself promptly. Alexander's smile lingered as he continued his journey to the courtroom. His excitement returned, suddenly too heavy to condone. He had felt it, that the gathering of the Lords would bring great excitement. Who was Carlisle coming with? He wondered. It was no one of the male gender, of that he was certain or Carlisle would have said so in his note. The council meeting could not be any sooner. His smile broadened. The doormen pushed the heavy doors backwards and Alexander walked into the courtroom with all the regality he possessed. Edmund had told him he had guests. The solicitors. Without acknowledging the bows and 'Your Majesty' salute echoing from each man, he climbed onto the throne and sat in the relaxed form he loved. He sat like the king he was, and was dressed as the same, exuding a nature that would make even the wealthiest and most powerful man of the realm cower. But he was not about to make himself cower. "Your Majesty, I was sent by Sir Brimsbol to deliver this note." Alexander accepted it. It read: Your Majesty, Long live the King! Some of the wares of the villagers have been discovered and we have with success, plundered the hideout of the thieves. Finally some good news. It wasn't as great as he wished but it was better than nothing. "You can leave." The man bowed and left. The other man in the room moved forward. "Your Majesty, I received a letter from Sir St. James."Alexander's regard of the man was scathing. He was aware of the tension in the room and he gloried in it. "Mr. Wylore, is there a problem?" As the man was about to speak, he raised a hand to stop him. "Did I not ask for funds to be allocated or was it not included in the letter?"He nodded. "It was, Your Majesty…""Then, why trouble me, or do you presume I do not already have enough to do?""No, of course, Your Majesty. I only intended to confirm.""Mr. Wylore," He called, sitting forward and clasping his hands together. It was a look to cause fear. "if I need to give my present consent every time, then I suggest you retire soon.""No Sire, I_ I would nev_ I did not intend_"Alexander smiled. How greatly he enjoyed to tease, and making people uncomfortable was a joy. "Shall we review the accounts?" It was neither a plea nor askance. Mr. Wylore climbed to him, turned the pages and began to read it to his hearing.Tapping his feet rhythmically on the floor, Alexander listened to the Sol
Alexander chose to indulge her excitement, but Carlisle was glaring still. "I am tempted to hear what your imaginations are, but I'm not keen on the glares of Carlisle here. He probably thinks I am in the act of seducing you." Her jaw dropped. This time, he chuckled. Oh, she would be easy, he gloried. "Enjoy your stay then." "I thank you for this opportunity. We promise not to impose." Was she so righteous? Or was it a ruse? One thing was certain; her timidity would not sit right with him. What did Carlisle see in her to want her as a friend, as he claimed? "Why not?! Carlisle does it as much as he can. My Castle is open to all that choose to adhere to my rules." And all who can bear to survive my tease. He added wordlessly. Again, she bowed. "Then I must thank you for your hospitality." His humourous side was greatly appeased. He tittered. "A sweet talker, won't you agree, Carlisle?" but a timid one. She would bore him soon. "A great hostess you must be Lady Beth." And indeed, he
Brand attempted another parry, anticipating Alexander's attack from the left, but his brother's cunning and expertise in swordsmanship proved to be a formidable challenge. Instead of following the expected trajectory, Alexander swiftly changed tactics, manoeuvring to Brand's right side. Caught off guard, Brand left himself vulnerable, providing Alexander with an opening and he took advantage. With a perfect move, Alexander swung and his blade made contact, grazing Brand's upper arm and drawing blood. Brand let out a yell of pain, instinctively retracting and clutching his wounded arm. "God dammit, you bastard!" Alexander let his sword drop to his side. "Watch your words, you speak to your king." It was ironic how he was being called a bastard by Brand. "I speak to my brother." His eyes narrowed with an intense glare. "Who happens to be your king." Then, "Raise your sword." He commanded, raising his, ready to fight again. Brand flexed his shoulders, stealing a brief glance at his
As they walked past the wall outside, flanked by verdant bushes, Alexander's gaze fell upon the two ladies awaiting the one whose help had been rejected. In a fleeting moment, his attention was fixated on the golden-haired figure, Guinevere, as beautiful as her name. Unlike her sister and cousin, she possessed a distinct allure that piqued his curiosity and she possessed no semblance to them.Observing her, he noted the way her eyes darted down when they bowed. Alexander stared on until they met his gaze, and impulsively, he smiled at her, continuing on his way. Whatever it was about her, he would find out. Brand walked ahead of him, still clutching his arm.Alexander didn't bother to look back at the fair lady, but for certain he knew, if Guinevere had approached him, offering to tend to his wound, he would not have rebuffed her assistance.***Gwen and Lucy lingered by the wall outside, waiting patiently for Beth's return. The tournament had ended, with the King emerging the victor,
"What do you know of weapons?" Lucy, always a pragmatist, interjected with a chuckle. "Gwen, what do we know of weapons?" Gwen bristled slightly at Lucy's skepticism, her desire to prove herself simmering beneath the surface. "I may not be a master swordsman," she replied evenly, "but I know talent when I see it." And she knew about swords. They were a form of protection. A companion to defence. A carrier of safety. With a sword in hand, she could protect and defend herself. And if need be, she could cause harm to all who frightened her, chasing them afar off and seeing that herself a secret her family was never again brought to humiliation. With a sword, and the knowledge of usage, she could protect herself, and her family, Gwen thought Lucy almost tripped, but caught herself in time. "What about the Duke?" She asked, stealing a sly glance at Beth who was trailing behind them, deep in thoughts. Whatever her reason for asking such a question was thwarted. Beth was greatly caught u
Running his other hand over the head of the chair, he calmly said. "I do not care whatever lies between the de Nocrosses and the Cossingtons, but I don't appreciate you bringing your personal family issues into my home." Carlisle turned and walked to the window. What was it about windows that always called to him? Alexander wondered. Once or twice, he had stood with him and the same things remained outside; people and more people. "I would not stand for it, Carlisle." He said, loud enough to be heard, low enough to command immersion.Turned from him, Carlisle said. "There are no issues between us.""No?" Alexander stood upright. "Not even the fact that you delayed your marriage to his sister and brought another woman along as your guest?" Carlisle's eyes remained out the window, refusing to respond to him. He pressed on. "Not even that?""There are no issues between us." Carlisle reiterated.The doors opened and the servants came in, walking in rolls, bringing along different dishes t
The walk to the dining hall felt akin to a march towards the guillotine for Gwen. Each step weighed heavily, without purpose or enthusiasm. Had the invitation to dinner not come from the Duke and if it was not a dinner with the King, Gwen would have refused outrightly. The prospect of sharing the same space as Lord Cossington filled her with dread, yet she had no choice. It was now beyond her and she would have to endure it.As soon as the servant who had informed them of the prepared table exited the room to wait outside, Beth had turned to Gwen, urging her to refuse the invitation if she felt unable to attend. She offered to excuse Gwen by feigning illness on her behalf. However, Gwen had hesitated, partly because she did not want to cause her sister any unnecessary worries and partly to avoid rudeness towards the Duke of Carlisle and the King of her country.Slowly, she trailed behind Beth and Lucy, as they followed closely behind the servant. The hall was a great distance from the
"But that will place me below Sir Georgestons." The same lord who had spoken before pointed out."Lord of Waichester, here there are no ranks, only men of like mind gathered for a meal," the King declared, his tone taking on a more relaxing edge. "While I might have chosen another seat, I am particularly partial to this one." His demeanour softened as he added, "Now, please, take your seat, and let us enjoy our dinner together. The food is growing cold."As everyone found and settled into their seats, wearing expressions of forced solemnity, Gwen slowly approached the table, searching like the others for her name card. When she finally found it, she was dismayed. Her name card was at the far end of the table, greatly removed from her sister and cousin, and positioned directly across from the king.Why had she been placed so far from her relatives? How would she survive the evening without their support and reassurance? Slowly, she walked to her assigned seat and carefully planted hers