An impertinent affair

3. The Royal Family of Warnia

Cueva Cuscada, Kingdom of Warnia

Same Day

"Tell me, brother mine, do you think you will be able to find your queen in this bloody excuse of a season, or shall you pass on the crown to me?" 

The King of Warnia's second son, His Grace Hagan Benedict Gatson Warrings, Duke of Ramlord, had, since their childhood took upon himself to be as troublesome and pain in the arse for the Crown Prince as humanly possible, and it was his honorable duty to continue to do so till his last breath. 

And it seems, today was no uncommon day for the Royals of the Trade Kingdom. 

"Hagan, of the things you should be concerned about, say to be in our father's good books and save yours and your pregnant wife's delicate arse, all you care about is my and the Kingdom's goodwill? How very charming!" Thomas retorted wryly. 

"Satire doesn't attract the beautiful maidens of Demonire, I have heard. Charm, grace and elegance is what they are made of, brother." Hagan replied, sardonically.

"For all I care Hagan, remove your bloody self from my chamber this instance," the Crown Prince snarled, lines of frustration clearly visible on his handsome face. After a mentally tiring day, all he wanted was peace of mind and he knew, his brother would not give him that. 

Beautiful dolls were all he needed in his court when he was to be crowned the king, all manipulators out on the streets. Tolerance was one virtue he did not possess, and the game of words which was played in the Warnian Court by the perceived demure ladies every single day was enough for him to pull his hair in frustration.

Of course, he was no politician, and he couldn't really fathom coming to his private chambers to his future wife for a good tumble, and instead, getting entangled in a cleverly crafted web of words. This was the only reason for him to beg to his father for a season where ladies from all the neighboring kingdoms shall parade in front of him and he shall have his pick.

His plan was simple-find a dutiful and possibly mute wife, who only opened her mouth at his commands, with good child bearing capacity and tempting looks. No typical aristocrat woman will be his wife. 

The women of Warnia were known, by all the continent to be clever and seductive whores, who could have their will in the court by using their politically powerful and lustful husbands as pawns. 

Chess was the most famous game among the ladies of Warnia, because after all, it was the queen who could mobilise all of her resources on the chessboard rather than the king. It shall be they who would influence the court, not the egoistic, emotional fools called men for whom preserving and nuturing their pride was the by all and end all of the world. 

However, the men of Warnia were unaware of this little insignificant fact. They lived in their own imaginary world wherein they were the rulers and the dominant race, while the women were their slaves and submissive. They supposed their world to be such, but the real Warnian society showed a different picture. 

His father had been a fool and had allowed ladies to be a part of the court with his wife, the Queen, owing to a promise made to his mother over a tumble.  

However, Prince Thomas was more observant than the council gave him credit for. He had already figured out the fact that Warnian noble ladies were not petite and humble, but clever witches. He had the same opinion of women as the entire continent- they were fragile objects of glass that needed to be preserved as objects. 

But he wanted a real object of humility and submission as his wife, not a mere imitation. 

Along with satisfying  his own needs, he also had to look for a woman who could offer political benefits, such was his father's condition. And for fulfilling the very same condition, Thomas was going to his father's chambers to inquire after the prospective, financially well-off chits along with the rest of the battalion.

"How do you find yourselves this evening, Your Majesty?" Thomas inquired after the King's health as soon as he entered the lustrous chambers of the king.

"Very well, so to speak. May I know why have you graced me with your presence this evening?"

The king replied in a tone that caused the prince to winch rather visibly. Even after conjuring a deadly disease, King Latvio had not got rid of his cruel, dastardly ways of greeting any visitor, caused due to his lack of trust on any individual, including his family. 

Thomas was the only one he had warmed up to, only because of the eldest prince's blind and dutiful submission to his father.

Thomas never looked up to his father. He was not his role model. For him King Latvio was nothing more than The Royal Highness Latvio James Arnold Warrings, King of Warnia. He had never fulfilled his duties as a father, thus in Thomas's simple world, he did not deserve to be called padre . 

"I was wondering your majesty, if you could spare some of your  precious time and brief me about the prospective brides that are to arrive tomorrow."

"Sit down there. Have you brought any weapons with you?" The king asked, looking at his eldest son with suspicion.

"None, Your Majesty." Thomas gave his usual reply to the cynical father of his, who made sure that every soul that walked in to meet him must be free of any weapon, or he shall have his head. 

"These are the names of womenfolk who can offer good money and diplomatic relations with their kingdoms to us." The king wheezed and coughed, while handing him a list of names and the kingdoms the women belong to.

The King continued, "Demonire is a kingdom we need the most. Even though the kingdom's bankrupt, it has a lot more to give than is visible externally. They will be desperate for an alliance within our territory, Thomas. Make use of that. You shall have the chits from the country occupied. We need to play the game how the imbecile wants."

The king's eyes suddenly hardened with malice and hunger, but before Thomas could question him more on the topic, he leaned back on his bed and closed his eyes. A clear sign of dismissal.

He could not understand how going according to King Edward's plan and being puppets at his hand could be in their best interests, but he knew enough of his father to not enquire any further when he had clearly dismissed the topic.

He sighed and stood up to take his leave. Just as he was about to open the door, the King's booming voice rang in the room.

"Duchess Elizabeth Mary Isabella Convoy, is the daughter of the Duke of Yardwell of Demonire. Be sure to make her your wife, Thomas."

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