- Jake -
Jake had never understood the reasoning behind the sitting order on great tables. He had never understood the need for great tables in the first place.
When he had been little, he had sneaked around the castle often, much to his mother's dismay, and on one such voyages he had observed one very particular fine dinner. Jake couldn't remember names or faces, just that they must have been important, because the biggest dining room had been chosen.
The guest on the one side of the table had needed a servant to speak for him across the room to the man on the other end, because he could not manage to raise his voice enough to be clearly heard above the chattering of side-guests, that had of course been needed to fill all the seats of such a great table.
Utterly ridiculous.
The Baron had only one dining room and he did not have many more fine guests, besides his family, to fill up seats. The table was still great enough for Jake to feel uncomfortable about making proper conversation with the man sitting exactly on the opposite and he wondered if exactly that hadn't been the Baron's purpose. The tension could not be fully covered by the politeness the man and his family had put to display the entire day, which fuelled Jake's suspicion even more.
"I hear you travel a lot?" the Baron's eldest son to Jake's right asked. He gave a strained smile.
"Indeed," Jake said. "There are not to be many places in this kingdom I haven't seen yet." His eyes darted to the map painted on the wall of the one side of the dining room. It must have cost a fortune, the roads sparkled in gold and every town or village was marked with a different sparkling gemstone.
Such a waste of money.
"How wonderful," the Baron's son said. "I used to travel much myself, but lately my father requires a lot of assistance in the castle."
Jake glimpsed at the Baron. He was indeed an old man with grey hair and a grey beard, had a bad hip, but his mind was still sharp. Jake guessed that the son rather was greedy to take over the reign.
"What was your favourite place?" Jake chose to ignore the comment for diplomatic reasons. He couldn't afford to get on the bad side of either of the men until he knew what exactly he was dealing with.
"There is not one specific, all of the lands are beautiful. If I had to choose my favourite place though, it might just be this little fleck of earth," the man said. He tapped his hand on the table like he meant this seat in specific.
So the Baron's son hadn't travelled much at all. Otherwise, he would have known how not-beautiful most places were. "It is indeed a rich land," Jake said, trying not to look strained.
"How is your home? I've never heard much about it."
No wonder. It did indeed not exist. It was as made up as the rest of Jake's story. "It is rich on ores and its business. A small stretch of land along the mountains to the northern borders," he said.
"And you do never miss it?" the Baron's son said.
Jake regarded the man with a smile, well aware that the question ought to have been another. "I sometimes do, but I know all is well. Rutger van Hoellen, the man I left in charge, has my deepest trust. He knows me very well and has not made one decision yet I would not have made so myself."
"And you never thought about settling down?"
"Many times," Jake lied. "But it seems I am too picky when it comes to women."
To that the Baron's son laughed and gave his wife and family a look of fondness, Jake hadn't expected the man capable of. Maybe his judgement had been wrong. Maybe the son wasn't greedy for power after all, just worried about his sickly father.
"On another note," Jake said, not liking where this conversation was headed. The idea of happy families had his stomach knot with guilt of ruining his own. "I sadly have to say, that on my travels I've not just seen thrilling places, but also a great deal misery." Plenty of places, sometimes whole villages, still hadn't been properly rebuilt, even though the war was long over. "I hope it stays away from your peaceful lands as far as possible."
The Baron's son took a sip from his cup of wine, badly hiding a face indicating that Jake himself might have brought trouble. "Yes, I've heard that not all the land is as blessed as our town," the man said.
"Doesn't it sometimes make you wish you could share your fortune?" Jake said carefully, despite the Baron's son's clear distaste. "I personally have wondered if building better roads wouldn't improve the trade throughout the kingdom."
"Aren't you just thinking about easier travels for yourself?"
"Perhaps." Jake chuckled, satisfied the Baron's son had thought the intended connection himself.
Jake had tried other approaches before in his talks, but had learned that no one believed a noble Count to be truly good hearted. And the odd rumours he had heard about himself would have left any selfless arguments utterly unbelievable anyway.
"The mining in my lands produces enough needles stones as by-products to cobble all the streets throughout the kingdom twice, probably. I just thought: Why not gain advantage of that?"
"That's the purpose of your visit? To offer us stones in exchange for money?" the Baron's son asked, not even trying to mask his disproval.
"Of course not." Jake forced a laughter. "Do you think me mad? The purpose of my visit is a visit." And gold. "As I said before, there are not many places in the kingdom I haven't seen yet, but your town was one left."
"I see," the Baron's son said. The man quite obviously doubted Jake's defence. And he had to admit, it was a weak one. He hoped the Baron himself would need less creative arguments to let go of his riches. And he would be easier convinced to do so.
"In the future I plan to sail. Have you ever been to the oceans?" Jake tried to save the evening.
"Just once."
"Is it true that people in the coast towns only have fish to eat? I'd hate that. I'd probably have to starve myself to death then."
The Baron's son shook his head. Jake didn't know if it should have been an answer or an expression of distaste about Jake's jumpy way to lead a conversation. In any case he would do better to leave it be for the night.
"I certainly have to admit, I favour such hearty dishes better," Jake said and stuffed a big piece of meat in his mouth to underline his argument.
***
The Baron retreated early that night, excused by the pains in his hip, without giving Jake much of a chance to talk. Instead of a servant, his son accompanied him to his chambers and Jake suspected he would be the source of conversation between the two men all the while.
"You dislike fish?" Nathaniel teased. "I better tell Rutger to cease his beloved fishing then."
"I am in no mood," Jake said grimly. His head ached and he longed to sleep a full night in a proper bed for a change.
The men walked up the two set of stairs to Jake's guest room together.
"Find me something to drive the Baron and his son apart, if the need should arise," Jake said. If the old man was too influenced by his son, Jake couldn't risk for that to become a problem. This move was one he needed to win. All the next steps greatly depended on money, he wasn't certain he could swindle elsewhere.
Nathaniel grinned. "Are we about to destroy a happy family?"
"Just get at it."
"It thrills me every time to see you fall off your high horse."
"Shut it."
Nathaniel laughed to himself. It was a disturbing sound that only held malice instead of joy.
Jake clenched his teeth. How he hated it when that demon was in high spirits. It was the best moral compass. Whatever action Nathaniel liked best should be the one not taken, but sometimes Jake just had no choice.
"Welcome back, my Lord," the maid greeted with a warm smile when they arrived at the room. She was a bony girl with red-ish hair.
Jake didn't know much about maids, but surely they ought to wear their blouses cut higher. That woman had clearly taken the liberty to rearrange the Baron's assigned uniforms to look more like the dresses the light girls tended to wear at the establishments Nathaniel liked to dwell in at times.
"May I assist the Count in fulfilling any desires?" she asked.
"Certainly not," Jake answered.
He strode past her in dire need to have space for himself apart from Nathaniel, vanishing behind the closing doors. But much to Jake's dismay, he heard footsteps behind him after the lock clicked shut and he turned with a sigh.
Instead of Nathaniel the maid had followed him into the room. She played at her red hair and tilted her head with a smile. A rather charming one, Jake had to admit grudgingly, that left her intentions to little imagination.
"You've heard the rumours about me?" Jake said, voice free of any emotion.
"I suppose so," the girl sang, closing the distance. She flattered her eyelashes unfittingly shy while she slowly wandered her fingers up Jake's arm. His eyes followed the movement while he drew a noisy breath.
"Good." He fixed her eyes in place with a stare of ice. "Then you know if you dare touch me again you will lose more than just a hand," he snarled between clenched teeth.
The maid dropped her arm. Her eyes widened and the smile vanished from her face.
"Now get out of my sight, you wench," Jake added and the girl turned and fled.
A moment Jake remained staring at the now closed door with a grim face. Then he locked it properly and pushed a shelf in front of it, just in case.
He didn't particularly like using his questionable reputation like this, and he didn't particularly like scaring people off like that either, but he had found fear was more helpful than asking politely for privacy and a threat was always the fastest way to get him out of unpleasant situations.
Jake opened the window. Cold air flooded the room and cooled his head. It still smelled like winter.
Being engaged by a woman was not one of those unpleasant situations per se, actually it was not unpleasant at all. If it had been that other girl instead, with the blond hair and curious green eyes, he might have let himself be swayed maybe. Something about the way she had looked at him still lingered in his mind.
No, he'd not.
Because unpleasant was everything that came attached. Strings that clung, promises he couldn't give and questions he couldn't answer. He had decided to let it be altogether a long time ago.
***
- Elly -
A letter of Elly's brother David arrived that day. He had left for the capital city to be one of the King's soldiers a few years ago, despite her father's pledges to stay and take over the family business. Elly missed him dearly.
David wrote often and she enjoyed every word of it. He always told about strange cities and people Elly liked to daydream about. So she did while preparing dinner in her mother's stead. The woman was working her shift at the castle, where Elly was going to go later as well.
"You seem chipper today," her father said in his usual rough grumble voice.
Elly gave him a smile and he smiled as well. The wrinkles around his brown eyes curled, lifting some of the exhaustion from his worn face.
They ate together and talked about happenings of the day as they always did. Many words were spent on the exertions people in the village went through to get a glimpse at the Count or hide their children away from him. Only few about plans for the pending wedding, it was hardly enough for excitement to catch on.
Little later Elly arrived at the castle for her shift.
"Finally! I thought you'd gotten cold feet and wouldn't come after all!" Ricarda welcomed her, restlessly shifting from one foot to the other.
"I think I am still early," Elly mumbled more to herself.
"Best of luck!" Ricarda said, already over her shoulder on her way down the corridor. Her long brown hair flowed like a cape after her. Elly envied Ricarda a lot for them. No matter how much attention Elly paid to hers, they never grew like that.
"Wait! What ... "
The girl was already gone. Elly had hoped to receive some advice, some reassurance, at least some kind words of encouragement. The fact, that Ricarda couldn't be gone fast enough, couldn't be a good thing. Maybe there was some truth to the rumours after all. Maybe the gossip was true for once, and the Count was really some creature of the night.
Or the girl just meant to rush home in time to prepare dinner for her husband. Nothing out of the ordinary, Elly calmed herself.
For a long while, nothing happened. Elly stood on stand-by, nodded greetings to passing guards on their rounds, and lit the candles in the corridor when the sun disappeared behind the mountains in the distance.
Eventually a man came. He was about a head taller than Elly with pitch black hair and coffee eyes. Everything about his appearance was neat and in place. Black uniform tailored to his built, perfectly straight collar, polished boots. The way he moved was odd, too precise, as if he really thought about every single step he made.
"What business do you have with the Count?" Elly asked after bowing politely.
"Oh, dear little maid, I can announce myself," the man said. His voice was just as odd as his posture. Somehow too high and too low at the same time. And he did not announce himself at all. He knocked once on the door and then entered without answer.
Elly's heart skipped a beat. She was responsible for preventing such rude behaviour and had failed at it.
A moment later the Count followed the odd man outside. Again, Elly bowed deep, this time she did not dare look at him directly. Thank God, he didn't seem upset about the sudden disturbance.
"The Baron wants to see me. You may wait here," the Count said, his voice a rough rasp.
Elly nodded. Her heart was beating in her chest as if about to jump out of it.
She waited for the men to disappear out of sight, before she entered the room for some tidying up. As the head maid had instructed her to do only when the guest was not present. But there was not much to tidy up. The room looked much like she had seen it before, hardly any luggage, prepared to the finest, but rather untouched. Elly settled to exchange the burned down candles for new ones and made sure there was enough wood for the fireplace. It was late spring, but the nights could still be cold sometimes here in the mountains. Then she went about closing the shutters of the high windows for the night. She wasn't tall enough to reach properly on her own, so she pushed a chair in place and climbed it.
Suddenly the door rattled open, and the Count came back in. Elly startled and nearly fell out of the window, before catching her composure and forcing a straight face.
"That was quick," she had said before she could have stopped herself. "I apologize," she hurried to explain. "I had not expected you to be back so soon, I will be finished in a minute."
"Take your time," the Count said, unexpectedly kind. Elly thought for a second there he made a face about to offer her help, but that would have been impossible. He dropped his arms, that had twitched up as if to catch her, had she really fallen.
While Elly closed the remaining shutters, the Count took off his jacket and tie and threw it over a chair. He brushed his hand over his rather haunted face in what looked like an exhausted gesture.
Elly assumed he might be tired, he looked tired, and wish to go to sleep soon. "Shall I prepare the bed?" she asked.
The Count stopped to look her up and down with piercing eyes, then raised an eyebrow.
Elly clenched her fists. She had offended him already. Had that shadow over there just moved?
"Quite bold. Are all of you lot that eager to jump in my bed?" the Count said.
Elly's breath caught. Heat shot to her cheeks and through her body. "No, my Lord, that is not – I – Please forgive me, I am soon to be wed. I cannot give you my virtues," she stuttered and fell into the deepest bow she could manage. "Please punish my inappropriate behaviour any way you see fit."
The head maid would throw her out in flying colours.
"Rise your head," the Count said. His voice had an odd touch to it. "I am not to punish a proper upbringing."
Elly didn't quite dare to. How could she have made such an indecent indication? She had not meant it that way.
"I assumed – that other girl – never mind. Rise your head."
"My deepest apologies," Elly said again, before she finally dared to. Awkwardly stiff she put the chair back in place at the table. Then she prepared the bed for the night, with shaking hands and a bright red face, and wished to turn to air.
The Count observed a painting on the wall all the while. Fully turned away, he held his arms crossed behind his back.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Elly asked when she was done. The heat of embarrassment dwelled off too slowly, her voice was still shaky.
"Depends," the Count said after a long moment of hesitation. His eyes were guarded when he looked at Elly. "Do you know about economics?"
"No, my Lord," she said.
"Politics?"
"Only the gossip."
"Well," he said, as if debating with himself. His eyes darted the room before locking on Elly again. "Do you know how to play chess?"
"I am afraid not."
"Then you may leave for the night," he said. Again, Elly though to recognize an odd touch in his voice, but she couldn't place it.
***
In the morning Elly's nerves had settled, and all that was left was the heavy feeling of her tired body. No one had bothered to inform her that Elaina would not come for her shift, since she had been removed from work entirely, until Elly had asked a passing guard about it, two hours after her shift should have ended.
She had brought breakfast for the Count and cleaned it away already, both in utter silence. And the movement had been good. But now she had been standing there for about half an hour already, waiting for the Count to finish dressing. And it didn't look like he was to be done soon.
"Forgive me, my Lord, I do not mean any impudence, but are you certain you do not need any assistance?" she asked again.
The shadow of the Count behind the dressing screen halted for a second, but there came no answer, and Elly supressed a sigh.
Maybe her father had been right, maybe she really wasn't meant for that kind of work. She was not an impatient person, but she was not her serene mother either.
"Do you do this a lot? Dress other people, I mean," the Count said.
Elly tilted her head. "No, my Lord, usually not. But I've helped my father a few times, when he had been too drunk to do it himself," she answered more honest than would have been necessary and bit her tongue. The lack of sleep really didn't do her well.
"Your father drinks a lot?"
About the same as every man did, sometimes more, sometimes less, Elly thought. "Is that really a thing that should concern you right now?" she answered instead. "You are quite late."
"And you are quite rude."
"My apologies," Elly said within an instantly quickened heartbeat and bowed, although the Count could not see her do so either way.
Finally the Count stepped out from behind the dressing screen and handed Elly a pile of his night clothes to be washed, then he stepped in front of the window to regard his reflection and pulled the tie straight. "Would it be odd to say I hate this kind of clothing?" he said.
Elly mustered the man. He was a sight to be reckoned. Straight lines and broad shoulders in finest garments, just his uncomfortable face would not quite fit his appearance.
"Odd? Yes." Every man and woman in their right mind would dream about wearing such fine clothes at least once in their life. That grey jacket alone probably cost more than all dresses Elly owned together. "But I suppose it would be honest," she chuckled.
The Count looked at her and the smile on her lips died. "My apologies," she said.
He frowned. "Did you just laugh at me?"
"I would never!" she couldn't say fast enough.
Although, she just might have. Her face paled. She clenched the clothes in her hands tight to her chest. She was to be removed from her duties after her first shift, just like Elaina. And the money her father's business had needed so direly would not be.
"I sincerely apologize for my inappropriate behaviour," Elly said and lowered her head.
"Enough with all that bowing already," the Count dismissed her. "Rather tell me what would be entertainment for the evenings in this town."
"For you, my Lord? I don't think I would know. But I am sure the Baron will be happy to offer any kind of entertainment you ask of him."
The man was not too fond of extraordinary revels anymore in his old days, but surely for the young Count he would make an exception.
"I am sure he would," the Count said. "But what does this town have to offer otherwise?" He gestured towards the window, through which the rooftops of Burgate gleamed in the morning sun.
"A beautiful scenery, I suppose," Elly said after a moment of thinking. A walk around the lake Ritchmond this time of the year was one of Elly's favourite things to do in her precious little free time.
The Count raised an eyebrow.
"I wouldn't know about any more ... social methods of spending time, I am afraid. My father prefers the old Hilker's bar, if that's the type of entertainment you are asking."
He raised his second eyebrow, then he frowned again. "Your father does have a problem with drinking, doesn't he?"
"He does not!"
"Every time you mention him it is in relation to alcohol."
"Only because you keep asking weird questions."
The moment she had said the words Elly shrieked back and held a hand in front of her mouth, holding it forcefully shut, not to betray her again. At this rate, she would not only be removed from work and lose her father money, she would most likely also lose her head.
The Count laughed.
The unguarded sound was of amusement, not anger over Elly's unpolite behaviour, and it startled her. She didn't know what to make of it, or the unfamiliar feeling it provoked in her stomach. It had all her worries melt like butter in a frying pan.
A knock sounded from the door, a moment later the Count's odd servant stood in the middle of the room and put a smile to display that gave Elly goosebumps.
"You may leave now," the Count said, back to being all matter of fact.
"As you wish," Elly mumbled. The frying pan of cold reality hit her in the face and she had to stop herself from actually fleeing.
***