Short dabble of the restoration of Solon after the Cause War.
The City of Nyllean, the historical home of the Kings, abandoned by anyone of worth for nearly half a decade prior to the Cause War, was restored by the words of the King’s most trusted councilor and friend, the dark elf Luc Delmire.
“The King,” he told the people of Nyllean a week after the Cause War, “desires to make Nyllean his home in honor of his ancestor. “
The people, who had never seen the King but had heard all of his good repute and experienced the fruits of his efforts in the war, were in awe. They, who had heard nothing worthy of celebration, nothing inspirational for so many years, had suddenly heard not one but two very good news in a mere week.
Within hours, the faded streets of Nyllean regained life. The carpenters took up their saws, the architect their pen and paper, and the farmers their shovels. Everyone united for one goal, and in just six months time, the decrepit city had nearly transformed itself back into its former glory.
Jump to story.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Open Doors
Short dabble about Arccedius taking his rightful place in Solon.
For a hundred and twenty years, the Hall of Cyning, guarded by the ancient blood seal the first king of Solon laid more than two thousand years ago, stood in perfect lonely silence. Many have tried to enter the great hall by force: some borrowed the destructive power of cannons; others tried fire and explosives; a few went so far as secretly [rather unorthodoxly] solicit the help of foreign sorcerers. But the blood seal fed by the inherent [forgotten, disowned] magic of the land stayed uncompromised. The doors stayed shut.
Today, the lone descendent of the First Son, the rightful King of Solon would return.
Today, the doors will open.
Jump to story.
For a hundred and twenty years, the Hall of Cyning, guarded by the ancient blood seal the first king of Solon laid more than two thousand years ago, stood in perfect lonely silence. Many have tried to enter the great hall by force: some borrowed the destructive power of cannons; others tried fire and explosives; a few went so far as secretly [rather unorthodoxly] solicit the help of foreign sorcerers. But the blood seal fed by the inherent [forgotten, disowned] magic of the land stayed uncompromised. The doors stayed shut.
Today, the lone descendent of the First Son, the rightful King of Solon would return.
Today, the doors will open.
Jump to story.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
In Her Eyes
This is inspired by Goldstin's March 15th posts. I have no idea what really happened, this is all in my imagination.
She loved being with him, watching his fingers danced across the piano, listening to his dreams in his usual mix of languages, eating dinner at the small table in his cozy apartment across from him. It made butterflies fly in her stomach.
It made her feel lucky.
**
She loved him; loved him for a long time; loved him very soon after she met him. She could not help herself, he was so close to her ideal boyfriend: a gentle but vulnerable man with a pretty face, a talent for music, and knowledge of a foreign language, of another world.
There was only one problem: he did not love her and she knew it.
**
He loved another.
He used to share his feelings with her. I love him, so much, he said and even though every time was a stab in the heart for her, she listened and encouraged him to confess his feelings.
He came to her one day, rejected and crying. He told me he would never love me, he muttered behind his flowing tears. I still love you, she wanted to say, but she stayed silent and simply sat with him.
**
When time consoled him, when they began to spend more time together, when they started something like a relationship, she made herself believe, hope, wish, that one day he would learn to love her back.
But time passed and still he did not touch her with the same feverish want, he did not bestow her the same flamboyant complements, he did not, never, responded to her genuine declarations of love. Some nights she thought that his unrequited romance had dried up his capability to love again. Some nights she thought it was simply her.
It hurt, not matter how much she would like to deny the fact, to spend time with him. Each second was like salt on the growing wound in her heart.
**
Perhaps, if she is stronger things would end differently, perhaps, they may even have a happy ending, but she has always been weak, she cannot stand the pain.
She trys to capture him - a man she loved, still loves - in her mind one last time.
(She will cry later when she step out of the elevator and onto the busy street below, but at that moment, her eyes are dry and her voice is steady.)
I have to go, good bye.
Jump to story.
She loved being with him, watching his fingers danced across the piano, listening to his dreams in his usual mix of languages, eating dinner at the small table in his cozy apartment across from him. It made butterflies fly in her stomach.
It made her feel lucky.
**
She loved him; loved him for a long time; loved him very soon after she met him. She could not help herself, he was so close to her ideal boyfriend: a gentle but vulnerable man with a pretty face, a talent for music, and knowledge of a foreign language, of another world.
There was only one problem: he did not love her and she knew it.
**
He loved another.
He used to share his feelings with her. I love him, so much, he said and even though every time was a stab in the heart for her, she listened and encouraged him to confess his feelings.
He came to her one day, rejected and crying. He told me he would never love me, he muttered behind his flowing tears. I still love you, she wanted to say, but she stayed silent and simply sat with him.
**
When time consoled him, when they began to spend more time together, when they started something like a relationship, she made herself believe, hope, wish, that one day he would learn to love her back.
But time passed and still he did not touch her with the same feverish want, he did not bestow her the same flamboyant complements, he did not, never, responded to her genuine declarations of love. Some nights she thought that his unrequited romance had dried up his capability to love again. Some nights she thought it was simply her.
It hurt, not matter how much she would like to deny the fact, to spend time with him. Each second was like salt on the growing wound in her heart.
**
Perhaps, if she is stronger things would end differently, perhaps, they may even have a happy ending, but she has always been weak, she cannot stand the pain.
She trys to capture him - a man she loved, still loves - in her mind one last time.
(She will cry later when she step out of the elevator and onto the busy street below, but at that moment, her eyes are dry and her voice is steady.)
I have to go, good bye.
Jump to story.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Vague Silhouettes
This is a random dabble I wrote about Kakunojou and her parents.
As a child she loved dressing up for festivals, and parties, she marveled at pretty kimonos and hair pins, she adored fluffy animals and played with dolls. She was a normal girl by any standard and she was exactly who she wanted to be: the only child in a loving family.
Her mother was a kind a gentle woman famous for her humility.
As a daughter of a minor landlord who valued arts and education, she took lessons on language, music and dancing from private tutors with her sisters. As such, all five sisters grew up very accomplished and they all had many suitors.
Zagashira told her stories of how her mother charmed even the most callous men by her singing and dancing. You have taken after her, he would add, sometime, as an after thought. Other times, he would go on to tell the glorious saga of how her father won her mother’s hand dispite of her many other, richer and more power, suitors.
Five riddles, Zagashira would say, you mother declared she would marry who ever in the room that could solve all five correctly.
She sometimes wondered if Zagashira was telling the truth, because five riddles seemed too wondrous a way to choose a husband, and what father would allow his daughter to marry for such frivolous reason?
Yet, she never questioned him.
Her parents, after all, has long been reduced to two translucent characters that exist only in rich tales told to her, two vague silhouettes that occasionally dance in her dreams.
Jump to story.
As a child she loved dressing up for festivals, and parties, she marveled at pretty kimonos and hair pins, she adored fluffy animals and played with dolls. She was a normal girl by any standard and she was exactly who she wanted to be: the only child in a loving family.
Her mother was a kind a gentle woman famous for her humility.
As a daughter of a minor landlord who valued arts and education, she took lessons on language, music and dancing from private tutors with her sisters. As such, all five sisters grew up very accomplished and they all had many suitors.
Zagashira told her stories of how her mother charmed even the most callous men by her singing and dancing. You have taken after her, he would add, sometime, as an after thought. Other times, he would go on to tell the glorious saga of how her father won her mother’s hand dispite of her many other, richer and more power, suitors.
Five riddles, Zagashira would say, you mother declared she would marry who ever in the room that could solve all five correctly.
She sometimes wondered if Zagashira was telling the truth, because five riddles seemed too wondrous a way to choose a husband, and what father would allow his daughter to marry for such frivolous reason?
Yet, she never questioned him.
Her parents, after all, has long been reduced to two translucent characters that exist only in rich tales told to her, two vague silhouettes that occasionally dance in her dreams.
Jump to story.
Newton's Third Law
This is an unfinished House one shot I wrote in response to Season 5 Episode Joy.
It was suppose to continue onto the last scene of the episode when House talked to Cuddy at her house, and Cuddy's really emotional line: "You son of a bitch. When I was getting a baby you told me I would suck as a mother. Now that I have lost it, you tell me I would be great as a mother. Why do you have to negate everything."
You knew she was hurting.
To be promised your heart's desire -- have it at your finger tips before helplessly watching it being taken away – hurts.
The greater the hope, the greater the disappointment: it’s a universal law, a simple extrapolation from Newton’s third law of Motion.
You were given a personal lesson on this law not too long ago: a few weeks of walking without a crane, a few weeks of morning run, a few weeks of blissful sleep -- only to find the pain return with renew intensity. It made you wish those three weeks never occurred. It was so much easier living with the pain when you have almost forgotten what you have lost.
It was Wilson who told you the news. It was three o’clock, and having solved the case, you went to Wilson for some well deserved gloating. House, Wilson said solemnly after you cracked a joke on Cuddy’s expense, There is no kid. The mom changed her mind. Your eyes widened. Leave Cuddy alone, Wilson pleaded, realizing your intentions, she needs time.
You mounted your bike and told yourself you would ride straight home. You told yourself you would not bother her. But you found yourself taking the wrong turns and perhaps inevitably, perhaps against your better judgement, stopping at Cuddy’s home.
Jump to story.
It was suppose to continue onto the last scene of the episode when House talked to Cuddy at her house, and Cuddy's really emotional line: "You son of a bitch. When I was getting a baby you told me I would suck as a mother. Now that I have lost it, you tell me I would be great as a mother. Why do you have to negate everything."
You knew she was hurting.
To be promised your heart's desire -- have it at your finger tips before helplessly watching it being taken away – hurts.
The greater the hope, the greater the disappointment: it’s a universal law, a simple extrapolation from Newton’s third law of Motion.
You were given a personal lesson on this law not too long ago: a few weeks of walking without a crane, a few weeks of morning run, a few weeks of blissful sleep -- only to find the pain return with renew intensity. It made you wish those three weeks never occurred. It was so much easier living with the pain when you have almost forgotten what you have lost.
It was Wilson who told you the news. It was three o’clock, and having solved the case, you went to Wilson for some well deserved gloating. House, Wilson said solemnly after you cracked a joke on Cuddy’s expense, There is no kid. The mom changed her mind. Your eyes widened. Leave Cuddy alone, Wilson pleaded, realizing your intentions, she needs time.
You mounted your bike and told yourself you would ride straight home. You told yourself you would not bother her. But you found yourself taking the wrong turns and perhaps inevitably, perhaps against your better judgement, stopping at Cuddy’s home.
Jump to story.
Late
I originally started this with intension of it being an AU Naruto fic, but since I never even got far enough to mention the main character's name, I am considering this as an original dabble.
It was her first class in the semester and she was late.
There were no turned heads as she walked in the lecture hall. No one could care less, it was university, after all, and no one cares what you do anymore because suddenly you are supposed to be perfectly responsible for your own action. She made her way to the very back of the class, and settle down as quietly as she could in a corner seat to avoid causing disturbance. She was self conscious for no reasons; it was her personality to be self conscious.
Jump to story.
It was her first class in the semester and she was late.
There were no turned heads as she walked in the lecture hall. No one could care less, it was university, after all, and no one cares what you do anymore because suddenly you are supposed to be perfectly responsible for your own action. She made her way to the very back of the class, and settle down as quietly as she could in a corner seat to avoid causing disturbance. She was self conscious for no reasons; it was her personality to be self conscious.
Jump to story.
After Normality
This is the first 1.5 chapters of a Tale of the Abyss fanfiction that I once wanted to write. Unfortunately, I just can't find the will to go further than 1.5 chapters.
Chapter 1
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man with gynophobia is not meant to attend balls.
For many years this “truth” warranted little more attention than a passing notion for him but in recent years, this required much more delicate considerations.
While Guy Cecil the lowly servant was not welcomed to such refine events, Gailardia Galan Gardios the lord was, unfortunately, always invited. The fact caused the young Malkuth aristocrat endless headaches, mostly because nobles are rather sensitive creatures and they tend to take offence over the silliest things. Declining a dance with a noblewoman without proper reasons, for example, was taken as a grave insult to her family – and gynophobia, apparently, did not constitute a valid excuse.
He managed to avoid balls in the beginning. Though Van’s attempt to destroy the world brought Kimlasca and Malkuth together there were no guarantees the fragile peace would last. The need for an ambassador came about often, and whenever such occasion arises, the obvious choice was to sent the Malkuth lord with deep-rooted connections with several very influential Kimlascans. Yet, when a year of peace became two then four, then eight, his endeavours shifted toward the domestic end, and Guy began to find himself without an justifications for declining social invitations.
For the third time in the year Guy found himself walking into a ballroom. He supposed, if he could simply watch pretty women in their fancy dresses at the corner of the room, he would not mind dances half as much. But the formidable task of avoiding ladies without looking like he was actually avoiding them left him no time for admiration. To make the matter worse, not only did he have to feel stupid he also had to look stupid – for Emperor Peony had announced that all men must wear rappig masks at his annual Rappig Ball.
Guy sighed for the twelve times but the emperor’s musical clock had only sounded once.
This would be a long night.
********
He quickly excused himself from Marquees Mair’s daughter. She was pleasant enough, but as usual with girls her age, she stepped too close for comfort while she talked. Twice in their short exchange, she giggled and tried to grab his arm – almost succeeded – but Guy was quick enough to avoid certain embarrassment.
Seeing the wine stand finally cleared of ladies, he headed there and reached for the glass at the top of the wine pyramid. He almost got it, only inches away, but someone else beat him to it.
“How are the ladies, Gailardia?”
The mocking undertone in the familiar voice was hard to miss. Guy sighed and slowly turned. Standing behind him was, as he suspected, Colonel Jade Curtis. If he was in better humour he might have laughed for the colonel looked absolutely ridiculous with his mask and glasses combination. But watching the older man sip his glass of wine… “Jade.”
“Now, now, must you greet a dear friend so coldly?” the officer covered his heart, pretending to look hurt. “I only asked because I overheard a few ladies talking about some competition to be the first to dance with a certain dashing gent.”
Guy blanched, despite knowing that the comment had fifty-fifty chance of being one of the colonel’s dry jokes. “Really?”
“No,” Jade admitted between sips of wine, “But it would certainly be amusing if that was true.”
In his mind, the young lord imagined the many ways he could stab the colonel. Outwardly, “If you are really so bored,” he deadpanned, “you should consider dancing with one of those ‘handsome young ladies’ instead of harassing me. I dare say you would have a more pleasant time.”
“Well, as tempting that may sounds, I cannot do that,” the colonel replied, still smiling, “You see, I was sent by the emperor to speak with you.”
Guy waited charily as Jade took out a piece of folded paper (for effect), and melodramatically cleared his throat, “His majesty Emperor Peony the Ninth would like to remind you his rappigs need walking after the dance,” here, the colonel paused just to hear Guy groan in despair, “He would also like to remind you that it is the duty of all Malkuth noblemen to greet the Kimlascan princess properly. And…” He studied his friend’s face with genuine astonishment, “You do not even know she is here.”
Guy quickly scanned the room. The princess was easy to spot once she was brought to his attention. Though she was wearing a rather conspicuous blood red dress, it was not hard to see how he could have missed her for so long as a thick ring of noblemen completely obscured her sitting figure from his view.
From afar, she looked to be having some livid conversation with the all of the gentlemen. “She certainly seems popular.”
“She is the princess.”
The sardonic note was not missed but wilfully ignored. “Unnaturally so,” the young lord emphasized.
“Well yes, as one would expect in light of the current circumstances.”
There was a certain edge in Jade’s voice that Guy could not ignore. “By circumstances,” he proceeded cautiously, “I suppose you meant King Ingobert’s health and the recent talks of successions.”
“That would account for a part of this phenomenon.”
“And the other part being…?”
But the colonel left the question hanging, much to his disappointment. “Before I forget due to my old age,” Jade said instead while pulling out a letter from his trench coat, “The emperor wishes you to deliver this to King Ingobert.”
Perhaps, if the subject had been brought up differently Guy might have felt otherwise, but as it was, the young lord could not desist the feeling of being used. “Why is it always me and never you?” he complained, refusing to accept the envelope, “In any case, wouldn’t it be more convenient to just give that to the princess?”
“Convenient, yes, but that wouldn’t be very sincere now, would it?” Jade explained, all logical, “As for why you and not me, it’s simply a matter of ranks, sending a lowly colonel such as myself to deliver such an important message would be most disrespectful.”
The colonel’s serious tone caught him off guard. “You could not possibly be telling me that Solumn had made a move, right?”
Jade waved a dismissive hand. “Thankfully, our neighbour is not that bold yet.”
Guy considered the last word. “The other week I heard some rumours concerning possible extensions to the treaty we have with Kimlasca,” he mused out loud eventually, “This is what it’s about, isn’t it?”
“We have to take every precaution,” the colonel replied with a shrug, “Human beings are known for periodic foolishness.”
The young nobleman finally took the letter from the extended hand. “I will deliver the letter to the King of Kimlasca,” he promised, “I trust his majesty had no further requests.”
“Are there not enough?” Jade drawled, twisting his words, “Well, never fear. Since you are heading to Kimlasca anyway, you will take my place in escorting the princess back to her home tomorrow as well.”
Guy opened his mouth to protest but in the end opted for a quiet sigh of resignation. Further resistant was futile, he concluded, and ultimately he had little choice but to do the king’s (or in this case, the colonel’s) bidding. In any case, a visit to Kimlasca was by no means distasteful. It had been almost six months since he last saw Luke in person. “Fine,” he said, making sure to show his dissatisfaction in his tone, “I will go in your stead.”
“Oh, don’t sound so put off,” the colonel cut in, taking another sip at the wine he stole, “You couldn’t possibly think an old man like me would make unnecessary strenuous trips, could you?”
********
Making his way toward the princess, it became more and more clear that he was again mistaken. What he thought was a livid conversation turned out to be a petty argument over who should dance with the princess first. In the middle of the sad quarrel, Princess Natalia sat silently in a tall chair with an untouched glass of Champaign in her gloved hand. She endured all the chaos with tightly pressed lips and a perfectly impassive face.
Guy could not help but be impressed by her fortitude.
He shook his head as he made his way past the bickering noblemen unnoticed. It was as if he was being surrounded by the one-way glass on Peony’s carriage windows and he pondered whether he should be more pleased or offended for their disregard. He decided to dwell on the thought at another time when the princess greeted him with a subtle nod.
He shortened their distance with a couple of long strides, pulled up his mask, and bowed.
“Lord Gardios,” Princess Natalia said, perhaps quicker than appropriate, “It is good to see you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied in the same formality and straightened himself. From the corner of his eyes he saw the disputing lords quieted and turned. The exchange had, finally, caught their attention. He considered smirking but thought better of it. “I hope your journey here was agreeable?”
“It certainly was, Colonel Curtis was most attentive and kind,” she spoke with a practiced smile, “And you? I pray the past few months found you well?”
“Very well. I thank you for your concern.” Guy bowed again as dictated by court etiquette.
The princess quickly motioned him to straighten. “Pray tell, Lord Gardios, what brought here you to me?”
With the princess greeted and his mission accomplish Guy had the choice to leave. But in view of the fact Princess Natalia would likely appreciate a break from the commotion, he decided to offer the princess a way out, “I am here to request the honour of a private audience with you.”
The murmur of protests sounded almost instantly and one of the Lords verbally challenged him. There was clacking of tongues, then, “Young Gardios,” said the refine voice, “that would not do.”
“I may choose to speak with who I desired,” the princess declared in eerie calm.
To be perfectly honest, he had forgotten to consider the noblemen’s reaction when he made his request – and only remembered when it was too late. He winced when the lords murmured their disagreement, grimaced when he heard the refined voice of Lord Wellington, and was quite frankly horrified when the princess made her retort.
If he was not standing in the middle of the upheaval he would have slapped his forehead. He should have known better than to be the catalyst. Now, the peace is broken.
Steamed shimmered under the princess’s capped response, he knew. The Kimlascan heir, fortified by the many social changes in the last eight years, had learned more effective ways of retaliation than physical violence. He saw it once, during one of his ambassadorial visits to Kimlasca, when a minor noble unwittingly angered the princess by spreading malicious rumours about a lady from another house.
The question now was whether Lord Wellington knew of the princess’s talent. The answer came in negative. “Your highness may not know, but it is Malkuth’s convention that all lords may speak to royalties on first come first serve basis. Since Young Gardios came here last, he shall speak with you last.”
The masks could not hide the fools’ smugness.
Lord Wellington was about to be publicly humiliated, the dangerous glint in the princess’s eyes told him that much. Part of him, the meaner part, did not want to step in. After all, Lord Wellington had sealed his own fate and did not really deserve any assistance, but compassion, as usual, persuaded him otherwise. “Lord Wellington is right, your grace,” he briskly confirmed and stepped in between the two, “That is the convention here.”
Her Highness sat back into her chair and closed her mouth, still indignant, but more composed. Lord Wellington, still ignorant of the narrowly avoided catastrophe, congratulated himself for his “victory.”
Guy considered his options.
He could take the pacifist road. He had gathered ample practice in yielding after working in the Fabre house for more than a decade. That would be the road of least resistance; that would be the way he generally prefers; however…
However, the princess deserved better. “Of course,” he went on slowly, giving himself some time to think before he spoke again, “Exceptions can be made for certain situations. Such as, in the event that a lord carries a private message from the king…” he gazed back, putting a smile on his face, “Is that right, gentlemen?”
********
Once, a wise man had told him technicality is a key to dealing with aristocrats. Guy could not appreciate that piece of wisdom more than when he ushered the princess to the door.
He was not doing well and he knew it.
He had been to the House of Lord before but until a month ago he had always been an observer and never an active participant. Today marked his eighth session in the benches, today he spoke for the sixth time in the House, today, he was once again mocked, shot down, made a fool out of.
He supposed he should not take any of that by heart. He was, after all, very inexperience in the arts of politics so his poor performance could be excused. But it had been a full month and he honestly thought he should at least see some improvements.
Maybe, he thought, he was never meant to be a politician.
Maybe he could never live up to his title.
Maybe he should stand up and quit the depressing bench-room like he was supposed to.
He took a look around the room, finding the room empty save for a few dawdlers and decided it was indeed time for him to take leave. He stood up with a soft sigh and prepared to make his way to the door.
“You are giving up already?” a solemn voice said behind him making him jump. He quickly turned around to find the elderly Lord of Ewerby peering down at him. Though the man was shorter in height Guy felt intimidated.
“Duke Bing…” he greeted, shocked because he did not see anyone behind him before, shocked because one of the most well respected member of the House was talking to him.
“Though I supposed, if you are to quit, it’s better now than later. The House of Lord is no place for those who surrender when met with difficulties. Are you giving up?”
He was not sure what the duke was trying to accomplish. Riling the weak seemed too juvenile for a mature politician like Lord Bing, but of course, he could be mistaken. Guy forced himself to smile, refusing to let the duke get the better of him. “I do not want to give up,” he replied, taking care to keep his tone neutral so his answer could be taken either way.
“It’s not a matter of desire, boy. Some people are just not fit to stand in the House.”
“Is that right?” Guy questioned. Pent up anger had made him braver and ruder than he had allowed himself to be for many months, years, even. “I was under the impression that our constitution states the privilege of standing in the House is given by blood. As the heir of House Gardios, I was born to stand in the House,” The retort felt good, he could even feel the tip of his lips tilting to a smirk.
Lord Bing tilted his head and smiled. “So maybe you do have what it takes after all.”
Whatever Guy expected, it was not that.
“Technicality is the key to dealing with aristocrats, boy,” the duke continued as he placed a consoling hand on Guy’s shoulder. “Speak as well as you did just now and you will be fine.”
********
The Malkuth palace where the King holds the yearly rap-pig ball has a long history. It existed long before the floating fon-tech has matured far enough to support large structures and was originally built as a normal palace with cornerstones planted deep into sturdy ground. The original designers placed heavy emphasis on appearance, on aestheticism, as such, the palace has many impractically shaped rooms, sculpted marble spiral staircases, and extravagantly decorated passages.
He could vaguely remember visiting the palace when he was young. He couldn’t remember why he was there but he remembered his wonderment and childish curiosity, how he shook off Mary’s hand and ran off into one of the big rooms, then another, until he had gone so deep into the palace he could not find his way back out. Mary was quite angry when she found him hours later.
He distinctly recalls there being no sense of repentant despite of Mary’s nagging or the apologies she made him make to seemingly everyone. He wasn’t exactly the most well tempered boy back then, but of course, there were little reasons for him to be. He was the only son in the family, the sole heir of the estates. If only…. He smiled privately. It was a bit late for remorse anyway.
“I knew the Malkuth castle is pretty but I never knew it is this pretty,” the princess complimented, drawing his attention back to the present. Guy looked up and saw that she was admiring one of the many statues in the hallway.
“You live in a castle, princess,” he reminded, hiding his listlessness with a tease, “To think, impressed by an old statue in a hallway.”
“Just because I am a princess doesn’t—“ Natalia began defensively but stopped mid sentence. “No, no, I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” she said instead, quietly shaking her head, “I was just...” she paused and rephrased, “I am just tired.”
Tiredness was an excuse, Guy was sure, but he chose not to pursue the point and played along. “Politesse is draining, your majesty,” he said with a small smile, “I know that first hand.”
“Of course you would know,” the princess gracefully took the chance given to change the subject, “Duke of Ewerby.” She said his new title as if it was that was common knowledge, except it wasn’t, not really, because he had never mentioned Ewerby to his old friends.
Perhaps he should not be surprised – she was, after all, the princess of their ally, the heir of the Kimascan throne – but he was surprised, and when he caught her unvoiced curiosity, dumbfounded.
In his mind, the change was simply a superficial change in title, a trivial change in name. Sure, the Malkuth Lords all sent their congratulations, sure, Emperor Peony hosted a banquet for him, and sure, his vote now means more in the House of Lords. Yet in essence, his life remained exactly the same, he still walks the emperor’s rap-pigs, he still gets bullied into chores by Jade, he still jumps away from a woman’s touch… and he still doesn’t deserve to be called a duke.
He didn’t want to explain Ewerby, in fact, he avoided the task for almost half a year because explaining his new rank would inevitably lead to the late owner of the title… and pain was never far behind from such recollection. Yet, seeing the princess’s wide, questioning eyes, Guy felt obligated to provide her with some answers despite of his reservations.
“The late Duke of Ewerby became my mentor when I entered the House of Lords as a bench member five years ago,” he took in a deep breath to keep his voice even, “Lord Bing had no children or wife or any living relatives, and in the end he chose me as his…” he closed his eyes and willed his heart to stop twisting, but of course it wouldn’t, of course not, “He chose me as his sole benefactor. Last December he…”
Princess Natalia kindly spared him from saying any more. “That was why you couldn’t come to my Christmas bash last year,” she said to herself as much as to him, “We all thought...”
“You all though I was courting Lord Mair’s daughter,” he gave an awkward chuckle, remembering the congratulations he had gotten from Luke in a letter about a week after Lord Bing’s funeral. He was too weary to rebuke Luke’s wild imagination and stayed quiet on the topic, and as such the invention of Luke’s wild imagination became a “truth” in his circle of friends. “It was more like the opposite,” he added, trying to sound playful but his response came out like his smile, forced and insincere.
The princess laughed like she didn’t notice.
He was grateful. Even if she had only laughed out of politeness, somehow, that gesture made him feel a little better. “I should have never complained about her to Luke,” he made a face, “he has a talent of taking things wrongly.”
His companion offered a sympathetic smile. “If it’s any consolation, Tear and I have to deal with him almost every day.” Luke made a very diverting and jocular subject for a conversation; he always had, being a younger soul stuck in an older body. Talking about his best friend for the rest of the walk, Guy found himself in better a mood than he was in all evening.
When Natalia finally brought up the question of the king’s message in front of the ballroom door, it took him some moments to make sense of her question. Luke had almost completely erased the earlier encounter with the lords from his mind. When he did recall, he could not keep a smirk from his face. “The king never gave me any messages to deliver to you.”
“But you said…”
“I made an inquiry about my country’s court conventions,” he replied innocently, “I had no power over what the Lords assumed. I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
The princess humph and crossed her arms. “I could have easily fended them off!”
Her irate expression was strangely endearing and Guy dared allowed his eyes lingering on her longer than intended. He found himself tempted to say, Well of course you can, but you see, I was actually talking about our poor noblemen, but such an unkind (and “Jade”) reply was uncalled for. “I was only playing safe, Princess Natalia,” he said instead as he pushed open the door to the ballroom. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I will be taking Jade’s place in escorting you back, your grace,” he explained and held the door open for the princess. With that, he was back in the dreaded ballroom but nevertheless he found himself grinning.
An appealing chore, he mused as he parted ways with the princess, well that’s a first.
*********
Chapter 2
Dear Ashe,
The habit of writing these letters started five years ago when Luke returned, alone, without Ashe. Before then she had always held some secret hope for Ashe’s homecoming. She told herself, if Luke would return, which she had not doubted, then the original should also be able to make a similar comeback. It was only logical. It was only fair.
But only one person stood across the flower field at Tataroo Valley.
I am at Grand Chokmah for Emperor Peony’s Rappig Ball. You are probably congratulating yourself for not needing to be there since I am sure you object to wearing those silly Rappig Masks. But Ashe, I would be lying if I tell you I did not wish you were there. The last time we had danced together was when more than a decade ago, I believe (even if we are no longer engaged) I deserve another dance with you.
There was the inevitable questioning period that followed. Jade, in his particle and callous manner, was the one to ask the questions that everyone was asking in their head: How did Luke survive the destruction of Eldrant? And if he did survive the initial blast, where was he in the last three years?
Luke’s answer was incomplete, his memories were muddled and blotchy, he told them, but he tried his best to explain. In the end, they were able to make out approximately what happened. Apparently, Lorelei, partially as a reward to Luke, partially as an attempt to make things right again, had merged Luke and Ashe into one complete being – Luke’s being and Ashe’s body – with his powers.
Though it did occur to her that Luke looked even more like Ashe after this three years absence, she thought little of the uncanny resemblance. Luke was, after all, the clone of Ashe. But simply looking like him and literally having Ashe’s face was a different matter all together.
She tuned out then because it took all her concentration just to keep her tears in.
But there are less selfish reasons behind my desire, Ashe. There were statues, beautiful statues in the east wing of the palace. I have never had a chance to admire them leisurely before until today, when Guy (or Gailardia Gardios as he is known now) saved me from a swamp of tiring nobles.
I know you have always enjoyed admiring sculptures when we were young. I remember how you would take the long way around the castle at Baticul just to see the stone statues at the East Wing. Believe me when I say there are many very impressive statues in the hallways in the palace…
I think, no, I know you would enjoy seeing them.
For days, weeks, after that she avoided Luke because seeing Ashe’s face and hearing Ashe’s voice was too much. But that all changed one day a few months after his homecoming, when Luke pulled her aside after one of the planning meetings at the Fabre Manor. “Natalia,” he said in a low, guilty voice, “I am sorry I am not Ashe.”
Her heart wrenched at his words. Suddenly, she saw the full weight of her behaviour and she could not help but be ashamed. How could she be so selfish? She was the princess of the country and there she was making Luke, the saviour of the world, her friend, feel guilty for being alive! Certainly she would rather at least one of them lives. And if she thinks about it, having Luke alive probably made more people happy than if Ashe…
Yet Ashe… Ashe was innocent. Ashe was a hero in his own rights. Like Luke, he suffered as a victim of circumstances, he too fought for peace, and he too was willing to sacrifice himself for the world. How could so many bad things happen to such a worthy person while less worthy ones live she knew not, understood not.
But she forced herself to be strong and though it still hurt, she looked straight in Luke’s eyes.
“No Luke,” she said sincerely, “I am glad you are standing here today,” because in truth she much rather one of them live than both of them die. “Don’t be sorry for being alive,” because Luke deserved life as much as the original, “Ashe would not want it,” because though he would never admit it, Ashe was a kind and generous person…
A drop of tear fell, then another, then another, and all Natalia could do was put down her pen, cover her face and cry.
********
She opened her eyes to the sight of sun light.
Her lady-in-waiting, Anna-Marie woke her with a gentle tab on her shoulder the next morning. She had fallen asleep at her desk, next to her unfinished letter, the oil lamp on the desk had burnt out sometime during the night.
“It is time to go,” Anna-Marie told her as she motioned the chambermaid to set breakfast in front of the desk.
Natalia nodded and tried to blink her sleepiness away. “What time is it?” she asked, gingerly massaging her sore back. She wondered how she could possibly fall asleep in such an uncomfortable position but she did and now she was paying for it.
“Nine-thirty.”
The ship was to sail away in an hour.
Natalia’s eyes snapped open. “Nine-thirty?” she repeated, shooting out of her chair. She hadn’t changed, she hadn’t brushed up, she hadn’t even packed! Before she could panic further; however, a hand on her shoulder forced her down back into her chair.
“Relax, your majesty,” Anna-Marie soothed, putting a fork in her left hand and knife in the other, “I have already ordered the chambermaid to pack your belongings and lay out your outfit on your bed. Just eat your breakfast.”
“But…”
“Lord Gardios assured me that the ship will not leave until you are there.” Anna-Marie poured her a cup of tea. “Cream and sugar?”
“Yes please,” she tasted a bite of her toast and egg to hide her surprise. “You talked to Lord Gardios?”
“He caught me on my way here,” her lady-in-waiting hastily replied, “He said he would meet you at the dock. Apparently, he would be taking Colonel Curtis place.” Natalia thought she caught a hint of red on Anna-Marie’s cheeks at the corner of her eyes. She could not help but smile into her tea. How ironic, she thought privately, thoroughly amused.
Gynophobia or not, Guy certainly has a way with charming girls.
********
When Natalia arrived at the dock with her party an hour and fifteen minutes later, Guy was waiting for her in front of the Princess Natalia along with a band of noblemen she met at the ball the night before. She told her companions to go ahead onto the ship with her belongings and made her way to Guy. To her slight annoyance, the group of noblemen interrupted her before she reached her friend.
“Princess Natalia,” the lord who challenged her the night before, Wellington, if she remembered correctly, was the first to greet her, “I hope you rested well last night.”
Natalia forced a smile on her face. “I did, thank you,” she said in cold civility.
“Words cannot express the pleasure I had from our dance last night. I am so saddened to see you go and I hope I will have the honour to see and dance with you again in the future.”
“I as well,” Natalia said, decidedly less earnest at the idea than the nobleman in front of her. “Until then, I bid you farewell.” She held out her hand to get rid of him; Lord Wellington kissed it with gallantry, and finally took his leave.
In a similar manner, the rest of the noblemen proclaimed their misery in seeing her go. They wished her a good journey in one way or another, many added in one or two comments on the fine weather, and a few actually had the good sense to complement her dress. Natalia could not help but sigh in relief when the last of the groupie left a full twenty minutes of pleasantries later.
“You are very popular, your highness,” Guy observed, arms crossed, leaning on a light post behind her.
She swung around and bowed her head apologetically. “Lord Gardios, I am sorry to make you wait.”
Guy straightened and shook his head. “I was just enjoying the sun,” he said, grinning. “I hope you rested well yesterday. Cruise ship or not, you probably won’t be able to rest as comfortably the next two nights.”
Natalia found herself returning a smile at Guy’s sincerity. “Actually,” for the first time in the morning she felt the inclination to give an honest response. “I didn’t sleep very well because I fell asleep at my desk.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” There was a pause, and for a moment she was worried Guy would pry for details, but to her relief, he remained perfectly unassuming. “Must be all the dancing you did.”
She looked at her friend thoughtfully. Guy had always been so understanding and kind, she thought, knowing very well he was intelligent enough to know the dance had very little to do with where she slept. Taking an unconscious step toward him, she offered her arm as per common court courtesy.
Guy recoiled by instinct. “I am sorry,” he apologized when he became aware of his reaction and looked away, his cheeks flushed, obviously embarrassed.
His phobia! Thoughtless, tactless Natalia! She apologized earnestly but got no response from the recipient. Unsure of what she should do, Natalia walked ahead.
Natalia, she scolded herself when she saw that Guy made no attempt to follow her until she was at least ten feet ahead, why are you such a cruel and heartless person.
Jump to story.
Chapter 1
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man with gynophobia is not meant to attend balls.
For many years this “truth” warranted little more attention than a passing notion for him but in recent years, this required much more delicate considerations.
While Guy Cecil the lowly servant was not welcomed to such refine events, Gailardia Galan Gardios the lord was, unfortunately, always invited. The fact caused the young Malkuth aristocrat endless headaches, mostly because nobles are rather sensitive creatures and they tend to take offence over the silliest things. Declining a dance with a noblewoman without proper reasons, for example, was taken as a grave insult to her family – and gynophobia, apparently, did not constitute a valid excuse.
He managed to avoid balls in the beginning. Though Van’s attempt to destroy the world brought Kimlasca and Malkuth together there were no guarantees the fragile peace would last. The need for an ambassador came about often, and whenever such occasion arises, the obvious choice was to sent the Malkuth lord with deep-rooted connections with several very influential Kimlascans. Yet, when a year of peace became two then four, then eight, his endeavours shifted toward the domestic end, and Guy began to find himself without an justifications for declining social invitations.
For the third time in the year Guy found himself walking into a ballroom. He supposed, if he could simply watch pretty women in their fancy dresses at the corner of the room, he would not mind dances half as much. But the formidable task of avoiding ladies without looking like he was actually avoiding them left him no time for admiration. To make the matter worse, not only did he have to feel stupid he also had to look stupid – for Emperor Peony had announced that all men must wear rappig masks at his annual Rappig Ball.
Guy sighed for the twelve times but the emperor’s musical clock had only sounded once.
This would be a long night.
********
He quickly excused himself from Marquees Mair’s daughter. She was pleasant enough, but as usual with girls her age, she stepped too close for comfort while she talked. Twice in their short exchange, she giggled and tried to grab his arm – almost succeeded – but Guy was quick enough to avoid certain embarrassment.
Seeing the wine stand finally cleared of ladies, he headed there and reached for the glass at the top of the wine pyramid. He almost got it, only inches away, but someone else beat him to it.
“How are the ladies, Gailardia?”
The mocking undertone in the familiar voice was hard to miss. Guy sighed and slowly turned. Standing behind him was, as he suspected, Colonel Jade Curtis. If he was in better humour he might have laughed for the colonel looked absolutely ridiculous with his mask and glasses combination. But watching the older man sip his glass of wine… “Jade.”
“Now, now, must you greet a dear friend so coldly?” the officer covered his heart, pretending to look hurt. “I only asked because I overheard a few ladies talking about some competition to be the first to dance with a certain dashing gent.”
Guy blanched, despite knowing that the comment had fifty-fifty chance of being one of the colonel’s dry jokes. “Really?”
“No,” Jade admitted between sips of wine, “But it would certainly be amusing if that was true.”
In his mind, the young lord imagined the many ways he could stab the colonel. Outwardly, “If you are really so bored,” he deadpanned, “you should consider dancing with one of those ‘handsome young ladies’ instead of harassing me. I dare say you would have a more pleasant time.”
“Well, as tempting that may sounds, I cannot do that,” the colonel replied, still smiling, “You see, I was sent by the emperor to speak with you.”
Guy waited charily as Jade took out a piece of folded paper (for effect), and melodramatically cleared his throat, “His majesty Emperor Peony the Ninth would like to remind you his rappigs need walking after the dance,” here, the colonel paused just to hear Guy groan in despair, “He would also like to remind you that it is the duty of all Malkuth noblemen to greet the Kimlascan princess properly. And…” He studied his friend’s face with genuine astonishment, “You do not even know she is here.”
Guy quickly scanned the room. The princess was easy to spot once she was brought to his attention. Though she was wearing a rather conspicuous blood red dress, it was not hard to see how he could have missed her for so long as a thick ring of noblemen completely obscured her sitting figure from his view.
From afar, she looked to be having some livid conversation with the all of the gentlemen. “She certainly seems popular.”
“She is the princess.”
The sardonic note was not missed but wilfully ignored. “Unnaturally so,” the young lord emphasized.
“Well yes, as one would expect in light of the current circumstances.”
There was a certain edge in Jade’s voice that Guy could not ignore. “By circumstances,” he proceeded cautiously, “I suppose you meant King Ingobert’s health and the recent talks of successions.”
“That would account for a part of this phenomenon.”
“And the other part being…?”
But the colonel left the question hanging, much to his disappointment. “Before I forget due to my old age,” Jade said instead while pulling out a letter from his trench coat, “The emperor wishes you to deliver this to King Ingobert.”
Perhaps, if the subject had been brought up differently Guy might have felt otherwise, but as it was, the young lord could not desist the feeling of being used. “Why is it always me and never you?” he complained, refusing to accept the envelope, “In any case, wouldn’t it be more convenient to just give that to the princess?”
“Convenient, yes, but that wouldn’t be very sincere now, would it?” Jade explained, all logical, “As for why you and not me, it’s simply a matter of ranks, sending a lowly colonel such as myself to deliver such an important message would be most disrespectful.”
The colonel’s serious tone caught him off guard. “You could not possibly be telling me that Solumn had made a move, right?”
Jade waved a dismissive hand. “Thankfully, our neighbour is not that bold yet.”
Guy considered the last word. “The other week I heard some rumours concerning possible extensions to the treaty we have with Kimlasca,” he mused out loud eventually, “This is what it’s about, isn’t it?”
“We have to take every precaution,” the colonel replied with a shrug, “Human beings are known for periodic foolishness.”
The young nobleman finally took the letter from the extended hand. “I will deliver the letter to the King of Kimlasca,” he promised, “I trust his majesty had no further requests.”
“Are there not enough?” Jade drawled, twisting his words, “Well, never fear. Since you are heading to Kimlasca anyway, you will take my place in escorting the princess back to her home tomorrow as well.”
Guy opened his mouth to protest but in the end opted for a quiet sigh of resignation. Further resistant was futile, he concluded, and ultimately he had little choice but to do the king’s (or in this case, the colonel’s) bidding. In any case, a visit to Kimlasca was by no means distasteful. It had been almost six months since he last saw Luke in person. “Fine,” he said, making sure to show his dissatisfaction in his tone, “I will go in your stead.”
“Oh, don’t sound so put off,” the colonel cut in, taking another sip at the wine he stole, “You couldn’t possibly think an old man like me would make unnecessary strenuous trips, could you?”
********
Making his way toward the princess, it became more and more clear that he was again mistaken. What he thought was a livid conversation turned out to be a petty argument over who should dance with the princess first. In the middle of the sad quarrel, Princess Natalia sat silently in a tall chair with an untouched glass of Champaign in her gloved hand. She endured all the chaos with tightly pressed lips and a perfectly impassive face.
Guy could not help but be impressed by her fortitude.
He shook his head as he made his way past the bickering noblemen unnoticed. It was as if he was being surrounded by the one-way glass on Peony’s carriage windows and he pondered whether he should be more pleased or offended for their disregard. He decided to dwell on the thought at another time when the princess greeted him with a subtle nod.
He shortened their distance with a couple of long strides, pulled up his mask, and bowed.
“Lord Gardios,” Princess Natalia said, perhaps quicker than appropriate, “It is good to see you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied in the same formality and straightened himself. From the corner of his eyes he saw the disputing lords quieted and turned. The exchange had, finally, caught their attention. He considered smirking but thought better of it. “I hope your journey here was agreeable?”
“It certainly was, Colonel Curtis was most attentive and kind,” she spoke with a practiced smile, “And you? I pray the past few months found you well?”
“Very well. I thank you for your concern.” Guy bowed again as dictated by court etiquette.
The princess quickly motioned him to straighten. “Pray tell, Lord Gardios, what brought here you to me?”
With the princess greeted and his mission accomplish Guy had the choice to leave. But in view of the fact Princess Natalia would likely appreciate a break from the commotion, he decided to offer the princess a way out, “I am here to request the honour of a private audience with you.”
The murmur of protests sounded almost instantly and one of the Lords verbally challenged him. There was clacking of tongues, then, “Young Gardios,” said the refine voice, “that would not do.”
“I may choose to speak with who I desired,” the princess declared in eerie calm.
To be perfectly honest, he had forgotten to consider the noblemen’s reaction when he made his request – and only remembered when it was too late. He winced when the lords murmured their disagreement, grimaced when he heard the refined voice of Lord Wellington, and was quite frankly horrified when the princess made her retort.
If he was not standing in the middle of the upheaval he would have slapped his forehead. He should have known better than to be the catalyst. Now, the peace is broken.
Steamed shimmered under the princess’s capped response, he knew. The Kimlascan heir, fortified by the many social changes in the last eight years, had learned more effective ways of retaliation than physical violence. He saw it once, during one of his ambassadorial visits to Kimlasca, when a minor noble unwittingly angered the princess by spreading malicious rumours about a lady from another house.
The question now was whether Lord Wellington knew of the princess’s talent. The answer came in negative. “Your highness may not know, but it is Malkuth’s convention that all lords may speak to royalties on first come first serve basis. Since Young Gardios came here last, he shall speak with you last.”
The masks could not hide the fools’ smugness.
Lord Wellington was about to be publicly humiliated, the dangerous glint in the princess’s eyes told him that much. Part of him, the meaner part, did not want to step in. After all, Lord Wellington had sealed his own fate and did not really deserve any assistance, but compassion, as usual, persuaded him otherwise. “Lord Wellington is right, your grace,” he briskly confirmed and stepped in between the two, “That is the convention here.”
Her Highness sat back into her chair and closed her mouth, still indignant, but more composed. Lord Wellington, still ignorant of the narrowly avoided catastrophe, congratulated himself for his “victory.”
Guy considered his options.
He could take the pacifist road. He had gathered ample practice in yielding after working in the Fabre house for more than a decade. That would be the road of least resistance; that would be the way he generally prefers; however…
However, the princess deserved better. “Of course,” he went on slowly, giving himself some time to think before he spoke again, “Exceptions can be made for certain situations. Such as, in the event that a lord carries a private message from the king…” he gazed back, putting a smile on his face, “Is that right, gentlemen?”
********
Once, a wise man had told him technicality is a key to dealing with aristocrats. Guy could not appreciate that piece of wisdom more than when he ushered the princess to the door.
He was not doing well and he knew it.
He had been to the House of Lord before but until a month ago he had always been an observer and never an active participant. Today marked his eighth session in the benches, today he spoke for the sixth time in the House, today, he was once again mocked, shot down, made a fool out of.
He supposed he should not take any of that by heart. He was, after all, very inexperience in the arts of politics so his poor performance could be excused. But it had been a full month and he honestly thought he should at least see some improvements.
Maybe, he thought, he was never meant to be a politician.
Maybe he could never live up to his title.
Maybe he should stand up and quit the depressing bench-room like he was supposed to.
He took a look around the room, finding the room empty save for a few dawdlers and decided it was indeed time for him to take leave. He stood up with a soft sigh and prepared to make his way to the door.
“You are giving up already?” a solemn voice said behind him making him jump. He quickly turned around to find the elderly Lord of Ewerby peering down at him. Though the man was shorter in height Guy felt intimidated.
“Duke Bing…” he greeted, shocked because he did not see anyone behind him before, shocked because one of the most well respected member of the House was talking to him.
“Though I supposed, if you are to quit, it’s better now than later. The House of Lord is no place for those who surrender when met with difficulties. Are you giving up?”
He was not sure what the duke was trying to accomplish. Riling the weak seemed too juvenile for a mature politician like Lord Bing, but of course, he could be mistaken. Guy forced himself to smile, refusing to let the duke get the better of him. “I do not want to give up,” he replied, taking care to keep his tone neutral so his answer could be taken either way.
“It’s not a matter of desire, boy. Some people are just not fit to stand in the House.”
“Is that right?” Guy questioned. Pent up anger had made him braver and ruder than he had allowed himself to be for many months, years, even. “I was under the impression that our constitution states the privilege of standing in the House is given by blood. As the heir of House Gardios, I was born to stand in the House,” The retort felt good, he could even feel the tip of his lips tilting to a smirk.
Lord Bing tilted his head and smiled. “So maybe you do have what it takes after all.”
Whatever Guy expected, it was not that.
“Technicality is the key to dealing with aristocrats, boy,” the duke continued as he placed a consoling hand on Guy’s shoulder. “Speak as well as you did just now and you will be fine.”
********
The Malkuth palace where the King holds the yearly rap-pig ball has a long history. It existed long before the floating fon-tech has matured far enough to support large structures and was originally built as a normal palace with cornerstones planted deep into sturdy ground. The original designers placed heavy emphasis on appearance, on aestheticism, as such, the palace has many impractically shaped rooms, sculpted marble spiral staircases, and extravagantly decorated passages.
He could vaguely remember visiting the palace when he was young. He couldn’t remember why he was there but he remembered his wonderment and childish curiosity, how he shook off Mary’s hand and ran off into one of the big rooms, then another, until he had gone so deep into the palace he could not find his way back out. Mary was quite angry when she found him hours later.
He distinctly recalls there being no sense of repentant despite of Mary’s nagging or the apologies she made him make to seemingly everyone. He wasn’t exactly the most well tempered boy back then, but of course, there were little reasons for him to be. He was the only son in the family, the sole heir of the estates. If only…. He smiled privately. It was a bit late for remorse anyway.
“I knew the Malkuth castle is pretty but I never knew it is this pretty,” the princess complimented, drawing his attention back to the present. Guy looked up and saw that she was admiring one of the many statues in the hallway.
“You live in a castle, princess,” he reminded, hiding his listlessness with a tease, “To think, impressed by an old statue in a hallway.”
“Just because I am a princess doesn’t—“ Natalia began defensively but stopped mid sentence. “No, no, I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” she said instead, quietly shaking her head, “I was just...” she paused and rephrased, “I am just tired.”
Tiredness was an excuse, Guy was sure, but he chose not to pursue the point and played along. “Politesse is draining, your majesty,” he said with a small smile, “I know that first hand.”
“Of course you would know,” the princess gracefully took the chance given to change the subject, “Duke of Ewerby.” She said his new title as if it was that was common knowledge, except it wasn’t, not really, because he had never mentioned Ewerby to his old friends.
Perhaps he should not be surprised – she was, after all, the princess of their ally, the heir of the Kimascan throne – but he was surprised, and when he caught her unvoiced curiosity, dumbfounded.
In his mind, the change was simply a superficial change in title, a trivial change in name. Sure, the Malkuth Lords all sent their congratulations, sure, Emperor Peony hosted a banquet for him, and sure, his vote now means more in the House of Lords. Yet in essence, his life remained exactly the same, he still walks the emperor’s rap-pigs, he still gets bullied into chores by Jade, he still jumps away from a woman’s touch… and he still doesn’t deserve to be called a duke.
He didn’t want to explain Ewerby, in fact, he avoided the task for almost half a year because explaining his new rank would inevitably lead to the late owner of the title… and pain was never far behind from such recollection. Yet, seeing the princess’s wide, questioning eyes, Guy felt obligated to provide her with some answers despite of his reservations.
“The late Duke of Ewerby became my mentor when I entered the House of Lords as a bench member five years ago,” he took in a deep breath to keep his voice even, “Lord Bing had no children or wife or any living relatives, and in the end he chose me as his…” he closed his eyes and willed his heart to stop twisting, but of course it wouldn’t, of course not, “He chose me as his sole benefactor. Last December he…”
Princess Natalia kindly spared him from saying any more. “That was why you couldn’t come to my Christmas bash last year,” she said to herself as much as to him, “We all thought...”
“You all though I was courting Lord Mair’s daughter,” he gave an awkward chuckle, remembering the congratulations he had gotten from Luke in a letter about a week after Lord Bing’s funeral. He was too weary to rebuke Luke’s wild imagination and stayed quiet on the topic, and as such the invention of Luke’s wild imagination became a “truth” in his circle of friends. “It was more like the opposite,” he added, trying to sound playful but his response came out like his smile, forced and insincere.
The princess laughed like she didn’t notice.
He was grateful. Even if she had only laughed out of politeness, somehow, that gesture made him feel a little better. “I should have never complained about her to Luke,” he made a face, “he has a talent of taking things wrongly.”
His companion offered a sympathetic smile. “If it’s any consolation, Tear and I have to deal with him almost every day.” Luke made a very diverting and jocular subject for a conversation; he always had, being a younger soul stuck in an older body. Talking about his best friend for the rest of the walk, Guy found himself in better a mood than he was in all evening.
When Natalia finally brought up the question of the king’s message in front of the ballroom door, it took him some moments to make sense of her question. Luke had almost completely erased the earlier encounter with the lords from his mind. When he did recall, he could not keep a smirk from his face. “The king never gave me any messages to deliver to you.”
“But you said…”
“I made an inquiry about my country’s court conventions,” he replied innocently, “I had no power over what the Lords assumed. I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
The princess humph and crossed her arms. “I could have easily fended them off!”
Her irate expression was strangely endearing and Guy dared allowed his eyes lingering on her longer than intended. He found himself tempted to say, Well of course you can, but you see, I was actually talking about our poor noblemen, but such an unkind (and “Jade”) reply was uncalled for. “I was only playing safe, Princess Natalia,” he said instead as he pushed open the door to the ballroom. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I will be taking Jade’s place in escorting you back, your grace,” he explained and held the door open for the princess. With that, he was back in the dreaded ballroom but nevertheless he found himself grinning.
An appealing chore, he mused as he parted ways with the princess, well that’s a first.
*********
Chapter 2
Dear Ashe,
The habit of writing these letters started five years ago when Luke returned, alone, without Ashe. Before then she had always held some secret hope for Ashe’s homecoming. She told herself, if Luke would return, which she had not doubted, then the original should also be able to make a similar comeback. It was only logical. It was only fair.
But only one person stood across the flower field at Tataroo Valley.
I am at Grand Chokmah for Emperor Peony’s Rappig Ball. You are probably congratulating yourself for not needing to be there since I am sure you object to wearing those silly Rappig Masks. But Ashe, I would be lying if I tell you I did not wish you were there. The last time we had danced together was when more than a decade ago, I believe (even if we are no longer engaged) I deserve another dance with you.
There was the inevitable questioning period that followed. Jade, in his particle and callous manner, was the one to ask the questions that everyone was asking in their head: How did Luke survive the destruction of Eldrant? And if he did survive the initial blast, where was he in the last three years?
Luke’s answer was incomplete, his memories were muddled and blotchy, he told them, but he tried his best to explain. In the end, they were able to make out approximately what happened. Apparently, Lorelei, partially as a reward to Luke, partially as an attempt to make things right again, had merged Luke and Ashe into one complete being – Luke’s being and Ashe’s body – with his powers.
Though it did occur to her that Luke looked even more like Ashe after this three years absence, she thought little of the uncanny resemblance. Luke was, after all, the clone of Ashe. But simply looking like him and literally having Ashe’s face was a different matter all together.
She tuned out then because it took all her concentration just to keep her tears in.
But there are less selfish reasons behind my desire, Ashe. There were statues, beautiful statues in the east wing of the palace. I have never had a chance to admire them leisurely before until today, when Guy (or Gailardia Gardios as he is known now) saved me from a swamp of tiring nobles.
I know you have always enjoyed admiring sculptures when we were young. I remember how you would take the long way around the castle at Baticul just to see the stone statues at the East Wing. Believe me when I say there are many very impressive statues in the hallways in the palace…
I think, no, I know you would enjoy seeing them.
For days, weeks, after that she avoided Luke because seeing Ashe’s face and hearing Ashe’s voice was too much. But that all changed one day a few months after his homecoming, when Luke pulled her aside after one of the planning meetings at the Fabre Manor. “Natalia,” he said in a low, guilty voice, “I am sorry I am not Ashe.”
Her heart wrenched at his words. Suddenly, she saw the full weight of her behaviour and she could not help but be ashamed. How could she be so selfish? She was the princess of the country and there she was making Luke, the saviour of the world, her friend, feel guilty for being alive! Certainly she would rather at least one of them lives. And if she thinks about it, having Luke alive probably made more people happy than if Ashe…
Yet Ashe… Ashe was innocent. Ashe was a hero in his own rights. Like Luke, he suffered as a victim of circumstances, he too fought for peace, and he too was willing to sacrifice himself for the world. How could so many bad things happen to such a worthy person while less worthy ones live she knew not, understood not.
But she forced herself to be strong and though it still hurt, she looked straight in Luke’s eyes.
“No Luke,” she said sincerely, “I am glad you are standing here today,” because in truth she much rather one of them live than both of them die. “Don’t be sorry for being alive,” because Luke deserved life as much as the original, “Ashe would not want it,” because though he would never admit it, Ashe was a kind and generous person…
A drop of tear fell, then another, then another, and all Natalia could do was put down her pen, cover her face and cry.
********
She opened her eyes to the sight of sun light.
Her lady-in-waiting, Anna-Marie woke her with a gentle tab on her shoulder the next morning. She had fallen asleep at her desk, next to her unfinished letter, the oil lamp on the desk had burnt out sometime during the night.
“It is time to go,” Anna-Marie told her as she motioned the chambermaid to set breakfast in front of the desk.
Natalia nodded and tried to blink her sleepiness away. “What time is it?” she asked, gingerly massaging her sore back. She wondered how she could possibly fall asleep in such an uncomfortable position but she did and now she was paying for it.
“Nine-thirty.”
The ship was to sail away in an hour.
Natalia’s eyes snapped open. “Nine-thirty?” she repeated, shooting out of her chair. She hadn’t changed, she hadn’t brushed up, she hadn’t even packed! Before she could panic further; however, a hand on her shoulder forced her down back into her chair.
“Relax, your majesty,” Anna-Marie soothed, putting a fork in her left hand and knife in the other, “I have already ordered the chambermaid to pack your belongings and lay out your outfit on your bed. Just eat your breakfast.”
“But…”
“Lord Gardios assured me that the ship will not leave until you are there.” Anna-Marie poured her a cup of tea. “Cream and sugar?”
“Yes please,” she tasted a bite of her toast and egg to hide her surprise. “You talked to Lord Gardios?”
“He caught me on my way here,” her lady-in-waiting hastily replied, “He said he would meet you at the dock. Apparently, he would be taking Colonel Curtis place.” Natalia thought she caught a hint of red on Anna-Marie’s cheeks at the corner of her eyes. She could not help but smile into her tea. How ironic, she thought privately, thoroughly amused.
Gynophobia or not, Guy certainly has a way with charming girls.
********
When Natalia arrived at the dock with her party an hour and fifteen minutes later, Guy was waiting for her in front of the Princess Natalia along with a band of noblemen she met at the ball the night before. She told her companions to go ahead onto the ship with her belongings and made her way to Guy. To her slight annoyance, the group of noblemen interrupted her before she reached her friend.
“Princess Natalia,” the lord who challenged her the night before, Wellington, if she remembered correctly, was the first to greet her, “I hope you rested well last night.”
Natalia forced a smile on her face. “I did, thank you,” she said in cold civility.
“Words cannot express the pleasure I had from our dance last night. I am so saddened to see you go and I hope I will have the honour to see and dance with you again in the future.”
“I as well,” Natalia said, decidedly less earnest at the idea than the nobleman in front of her. “Until then, I bid you farewell.” She held out her hand to get rid of him; Lord Wellington kissed it with gallantry, and finally took his leave.
In a similar manner, the rest of the noblemen proclaimed their misery in seeing her go. They wished her a good journey in one way or another, many added in one or two comments on the fine weather, and a few actually had the good sense to complement her dress. Natalia could not help but sigh in relief when the last of the groupie left a full twenty minutes of pleasantries later.
“You are very popular, your highness,” Guy observed, arms crossed, leaning on a light post behind her.
She swung around and bowed her head apologetically. “Lord Gardios, I am sorry to make you wait.”
Guy straightened and shook his head. “I was just enjoying the sun,” he said, grinning. “I hope you rested well yesterday. Cruise ship or not, you probably won’t be able to rest as comfortably the next two nights.”
Natalia found herself returning a smile at Guy’s sincerity. “Actually,” for the first time in the morning she felt the inclination to give an honest response. “I didn’t sleep very well because I fell asleep at my desk.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” There was a pause, and for a moment she was worried Guy would pry for details, but to her relief, he remained perfectly unassuming. “Must be all the dancing you did.”
She looked at her friend thoughtfully. Guy had always been so understanding and kind, she thought, knowing very well he was intelligent enough to know the dance had very little to do with where she slept. Taking an unconscious step toward him, she offered her arm as per common court courtesy.
Guy recoiled by instinct. “I am sorry,” he apologized when he became aware of his reaction and looked away, his cheeks flushed, obviously embarrassed.
His phobia! Thoughtless, tactless Natalia! She apologized earnestly but got no response from the recipient. Unsure of what she should do, Natalia walked ahead.
Natalia, she scolded herself when she saw that Guy made no attempt to follow her until she was at least ten feet ahead, why are you such a cruel and heartless person.
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