Reign, page 5
He had left this place in a precarious position when he’d vanished into the portal to Grimm, and he couldn’t leave them again, especially with so many people waiting to speak with him.
“Fine,” Arbor said, letting out a sigh. “I want daily updates and will be the first to know if anything happens. I don’t care what I’m doing. Bathing, eating, sleeping, or training. Whether I’m in an important meeting or whatever else, I will know right away. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Frunk said, saluting.
The door behind Arbor opened then, revealing Prudence, his personal butler. She looked the same as he remembered, with her towering height, tanned skin, yellow eyes, and stark white hair. Along with her impressive musculature that showed, even through the neatly pressed suit she wore, she cut a very striking and unique figure. He might have been surprised had he not had his Field going and sensed her coming. The fact that she’d made it here, drawn a bath, and likely prepared a dozen other things in the time it had taken him to walk up here was completely unsurprising. In the time she’d served him before he’d vanished, she’d been very good at her job.
“My Lord, it is good to have you back,” she said, bowing at the waist. “I have drawn a bath for you and have your schedule of meetings for the day. I can give you a run-down while I cut your hair and get rid of that unsightly beard.”
Arbor subconsciously felt at the beard. He hadn’t thought it was all that unsightly. In fact, he’d thought it added a bit of a rugged quality and didn’t want to get rid of it. But nobles didn’t keep beards like this, so he knew it would have to go.
Judging by the position of the sun, it was late morning, perhaps eleven or a bit later. He’d been hoping for a quiet day, but with so much requiring his immediate attention, Arbor had the feeling he’d be getting to sleep very late.
“Just make sure someone takes care of my armor,” Arbor said to Sebastian. “One of the bracers was damaged, so have them cleaned, but don’t let any of our smiths touch them. When we get him back, I’m sure Hord can fix it.”
“As you wish, my lord,” Sebastian said, bowing at the waist. “How quickly can you have him ready?” he asked, directing this question to Prudence.
“Inform the Marquess that Lord Arbor will be presentable by noon.”
“Is there anything else that requires my immediate attention?” Arbor asked, directing his question to Frunk.
“No, I think we’re all set for now,” Frunk replied. “Though I’m sure we’ll have more to speak about at dinner.”
The gremlin bowed, turned to leave, then stopped and turned back around.
“Oh, and welcome back, sir,” he said, finally cracking a smile. “You’ve been sorely missed.”
Arbor gave the gremlin a nod, then turned and entered his personal suite. Prudence shut the door behind him, then maneuvered around to escort him down the hall. It was the same as he remembered, walking past the open doors of his guest rooms and trying to ignore the conspicuously closed doors that marked Grak and Hord’s rooms.
When they reached the end of the corridor, Prudence pulled a small emblem from inside her shirt and pressed it to the imprint on his door. The key was his signet ring, and aside from him, only she was able to enter on her own. Not even Sebastian had a key to this area.
Arbor could hear the distinct sound of running water as he entered the first study, and as Prudence opened the door to the bathroom, he could see that she hadn’t just run the bath. Fresh clothes were set out, a chair and drop cloth was set before the mirror, and scissors and razors were already neatly laid out.
“Would you like help bathing, my lord?” Prudence asked as he stopped by the door.
“Do you even have to ask?” Arbor deadpanned.
“It is my duty to assist you with all your needs,” Prudence replied, professional as ever. “If you do not require bathing, then I shall leave you. When you are finished, please put on the robe I’ve prepared. Do not dry your hair. It will be easier to cut that way.”
Arbor nodded, handing his glaive and cleaver over to the woman before she left, closing the door behind him.
As soon as the door was shut, he began quickly stripping out of the tattered and torn outfit he’d been reusing for the past six months. No one had asked him of his time away just yet, but he had a feeling he’d be telling his story as soon as all of the immediate problems had been handled.
Arbor wrinkled his nose as he dropped the last of the dirty clothes to the ground. If he could smell it, he could hardly imagine how bad it must have been for Prudence. It was a sign of professional courtesy that she had neither shown discomfort nor commented on how bad he smelled.
Now that he got a good look at himself in the mirror, Arbor could understand why the guards hadn’t believed him. He looked more like a vagrant than he did a Lord. His brown hair and beard were overgrown, wild, and tangled with dirt. What was visible of his face was smudged and dirty, and neither his gray eyes nor what little showed of his cheeks would be enough of an identifier.
Arbor noted with some amusement that the white gold toilet he’d had removed had still not been replaced. As he sank into the bathtub, all thoughts of asking to have it replaced were driven from his mind. The water was at the perfect temperature, soaking into his tired muscles and bones and finally allowing him to relax.
Dirt began immediately coming off him, staining the water, but the running tap and small side-drains worked to constantly have a supply of fresh water coming in to replace the dirty. He heard Prudence call through the door, inquiring if the water was okay, to which Arbor answered that yes, it was perfect.
Although he wanted to luxuriate in the bath forever, Arbor knew he didn’t have a lot of time to do so. There were important people waiting for him, and keeping people like that for too long was a bad idea. After only fifteen minutes, he got out, feeling like a new man. He wrapped the soft, fluffy robe around himself, tying the belt to hold it closed, then moved to sit in the chair.
He idly noticed that the robe was monogrammed with the likeness of the roaring Roc-Jaguar that had become the crest for the house of Emerald. He adjusted the robe, making sure it covered him completely, then called for Prudence that he was done.
She came in carrying a small sack and proceeded to drop all his old clothes inside.
“I will be back in a moment, my lord,” she said as she took them out of the bathroom to presumably burn them.
When she returned, she was holding a small board with a long piece of parchment attached by a clip.
“Here is your schedule for the day,” she said, laying it down on the counter. “No need to read it,” she continued as she grabbed a pair of scissors and moved behind him. “I have memorized it. Now, chin up a bit. Good.”
Arbor felt one of the locks of his hair being tugged back, then heard the distinct snip of the scissor. He could see Prudence working through the mirror, but he closed his eyes and listened as she spoke.
“Your first meeting will be with the Marquess Sindra,” Prudence said. “Your meeting will be over a light lunch, as I’m sure you’re famished. After that, you will meet with Duke Gregmar’s messenger and arrange a meeting date with his daughter. When that is done, you will send messages to all of your Barons, inviting them to another dinner to apologize for the first.
“After that, you will meet with Frunk and Saiko regarding the construction of the new town, placement of buildings, assignments of work, as well as tax levies for the king. When that is done, you will meet with the various village heads who have been waiting to speak with you, although this is optional and can be skipped.”
“I won’t skip it,” Arbor said.
“Very well, my lord,” Prudence said. “When that is over with, you will have to meet with your military commanders and start setting rotations, training schedules, and the like. You will then meet with numerous heads of immigration for those wishing to come live in your lands and surrounding areas.
“When that is all done, we will have dinner with all the important dignitaries and visiting messengers from surrounding Viscounties, Earldoms, and Baronies.”
“Invite Kya as well, if she’s feeling up to it, and sit her close to me,” Arbor said. “I also want a meeting with her today if we can squeeze her in.”
“I’m sure we can arrange it, my lord,” she said. “When all that is done, you will have one last meeting with your household staff in the kitchens to thank them for their hard work, and then your day will be finished.”
“Is that all?” Arbor asked sarcastically – it sounded like far too much to fit into a single day.
“Yes, my lord,” Prudence said.
“Do I have a schedule this packed tomorrow?” he asked.
“No, my lord. Just a meeting over breakfast.”
“Then I’d like to arrange meetings with the Elementals’ chosen representatives. I need to figure out where they’re going to fit in here. I also want to set a meeting with everyone in my inner circle, those who can be trusted to know where I’ve been and what happened there. I trust you know whom to invite?”
“Of course, my lord,” Prudence replied.
Arbor leaned back in the chair then, relaxing as Prudence finished cutting his hair. When she was done with that, she brought a bowl of hot water and soap, and once again washed it. Her fingers felt wonderful, digging into his scalp. They seemed to press into all the right places, removing pressure in his head he hadn’t even realized was there.
By the time she rinsed the soap from his hair and dried it, Arbor felt relaxed and tempted to go to sleep.
“Lean your head back,” Prudence said, removing the towel.
Arbor did as commanded, cracking an eyelid to see how he looked. Prudence had done an impeccable job of cutting his hair, not that that was surprising, and was now moved around front, blocking his view of the mirror.
He’d never had someone shave him before, but Prudence worked quickly and efficiently, snipping away as much as she could with the scissors before using the razor. The light grating of the blade running over his cheeks was oddly comforting, though by the time she washed his face and dabbed it dry, his chin felt oddly cold.
“I apologize for the rush job,” Prudence said, stepping back and folding the towel. “I will do better next time.”
Arbor examined himself in the mirror and was unable to see anything wrong with it. If this were what she considered a rush job, he could hardly imagine what it would look like when she took her time.
“It looks wonderful, Prudence. Thank you,” he said, giving her a smile. “And before you ask, no, I don’t need help dressing myself. You can wait for me outside the bathroom.”
Prudence bowed, though when she rose, Arbor could detect the smallest hint of a smile playing around her lips.
6
“Marquess Sindra, I apologize for making you wait,” Arbor said as he entered the small living room on the third floor.
Though there were many such areas on this floor, this was the nicest and most private. A small table had been brought in, and serving staff were laying out refreshments. There was a myriad of fruit, pitchers of pale violet liquid that beaded with condensation, and plates with small cakes and triangular-cut sandwiches.
It was very fancy and not at all what he would normally enjoy, but with Sindra present, it would be rude to serve anything ordinary.
“Not at all,” Sindra said, standing to shake his hand. “I must admit, you gave us all quite a fright when you appeared the way you did, and your subordinates were quite concerned with your wellbeing.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m quite well,” Arbor said as Prudence pulled out his chair for him.
He waited until they were both seated before continuing.
“I assume Frunk told you everything?”
“He did,” Sindra said as a servant poured him a glass of the pale purple liquid. “Are you going to tell me what happened to you?”
“I honestly don’t know if you’ll believe me or not, but I’ll do my best,” Arbor said. “So long as you swear never to speak of this to anyone without my express permission.”
Arbor knew he was taking a risk in asking the man. After all, Sindra was a Marquess, the highest rank a noble could receive unless they were related to the royal family. Sindra held a considerable amount of sway with a lot of other nobles as well, so he could be a dangerous enemy. However, Arbor trusted the man, especially if someone as careful as Frunk had told him everything.
“Very well,” Sindra said, interlacing his fingers.
Arbor told him what had happened. He left out the details of the Origin, as well as his time with Gold, glossing those over, but he shared everything else. He spoke of how the elves had tricked him into coming to Slope on the outskirts of his lands and how they’d weakened him first by forcing him to battle the Magma-Tiger, how they’d attacked, using a Demonic artifact to send him to the Lower Realms.
Arbor told him all about his journey to escape, of his capture, and how Shelderoth had helped him get away. Then he proceeded with his battle with Nilegard, and how he’d been thrown off his course, and how six months had passed before he’d been able to make it back.
“I know it sounds completely unbelievable,” Arbor finished, “but I hope you believe me when I say that I wish it hadn’t happened. My sister is now missing as a result of this, and due to how precarious our situation here is, I can’t even leave to go look for her in person.”
Sindra was silent for a few moments as he chewed on a small cake.
“Truth is often stranger than fiction,” Sindra finally said, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “I believe that you are telling the truth, though by the sound of it, we may soon be dealing with some true demonic beings, which can’t be good for anyone involved. Will you be taking action against the elves?”
“I might,” Arbor said. “It all depends on how they react to my return. I’m sure they have spies in the area. If I find myself the victim of another assassination attempt, I’ll have little choice. But if they leave me alone, I’ll be remaining here, at least for a while. Ryevine has enough problems as it is, and I can’t afford to go traipsing off to the Goldenleaf Forest right now.”
“I do hope things work out for you,” Sindra said, raising his glass. “I hear you have a meeting with a messenger from Duke Gregmar regarding a marriage proposal?”
“Yes,” Arbor said, having already known the Marquess would broach this subject.
As a noble, Arbor was legally obligated to marry within one year. Otherwise, the king would choose a wife for him. Seeing as this was something he needed to avoid at all costs, Arbor now had to look for someone to marry. And although the pain of losing Florren was still there, it had been over two years from his perspective.
He still planned to avenge her, as well as his parents, but the constant ache of her loss no longer plagued him. He didn’t want to get married, but right now, he would do what was required of him.
“Do you know the circumstances surrounding this proposal?” Sindra asked.
Arbor shook his head, taking a sip from the glass that Prudence had poured him nearly twenty minutes ago. It was good, still cold, and had a fruity flavor he quite enjoyed.
“Up until this proposal, no one was even aware he had a daughter. This means that he’s been keeping her secret for a reason. Additionally, it means that you probably won’t be able to say no, no matter what.”
“I already figured as much,” Arbor said. “Turning down a proposal from a duke would be bad for my health. What I want to know is where this will place me politically and legally, as well as what I can do to avoid becoming his lackey.”
“Legally speaking, you’d still be a Viscount,” Sindra said. “And your children would inherit both the Duchy of Vergara and the lands of Ryevine, as well as the estates.”
“So, you’re saying that he can have me killed as soon as I have a child, and they’ll inherit everything I own,” Arbor said flatly.
That was not good.
“He could,” Sindra admitted, “but I doubt it will come to that, at least not at first. You showed yourself to be a powerful Mage during the tournament, and he’ll want someone like you in his family. He’ll try and convince you to ‘listen to his opinions’ on what you should do. Politically, it will place you squarely alongside him, in the Royal faction, though that may be a good thing.
“As Duke Gregmar’s only son-in-law, you’ll hold considerable sway, even over Earls or some Marquesses. Additionally, as the king’s cousin and fourth in line to inherit the throne, you may find yourself married to the crown princess one day, with your own children set to inherit the throne.
“Although that scenario is unlikely, it is possible, and because of that, you will make more enemies. Those who want, for example, to try and wed Gregmar’s daughter themselves or have children they believe can be a match. Getting you out of the way would be their only obstacle. Since no one knew this daughter existed until now, it will also bring even more attention to the fact that they chose you of all people...A former commoner made noble by the hand of the king.”
Arbor rescinded his previous sentiment. This wasn’t simply not good. This was as bad as bad could be.
“No way to avoid it,” he said with a sigh. “Do I hope that Duke Gregmar’s daughter hates me and decides she’s not interested?”
“I don’t know her, but I do know the Duke,” Sindra said. “Your best hope is to pray she does like you because you’ll be getting married either way. If she likes you, you’ll at least have someone on your side in that family to advocate for you. If she doesn’t…”
Sindra trailed off, letting his words hang. There was a bit of a disturbance at the door, and Arbor noted Prudence going over to speak with a lanky gremlin. But he was too bothered by the current situation to pay them much heed.
“Any advice then?” he asked wryly. “I’m meeting the Duke’s messenger after you.”
“Don’t try and delay a meeting,” Sindra said. “Tell them you will meet her at their earliest convenience. In fact, if they request you travel to them – even if it’s only a request – get into your carriage and go. Your lands will hold up just fine if it’s made known that you’re going to meet the Duke’s daughter.”
