“Your house has stood against countless assassination attempts and your ability to defend your family from rogues and spies is renowned across Valaria,” Bastian stated.

  "We have?" Peregrine raised an eyebrow.

  Bastian wondered if she truly didn't know. "The Assassin Assembly in Peldeep has a betting pool and a competition going - with a hefty bonus for anyone who manages to complete the hit. Your father's been Prime Minister for fifteen years - and as far as gossip is concerned, no one has even made it into this building."

  He waved at the room. Peregrine's eyebrows scrunched up in thought, and it was so beautifully adorable that he wanted to kiss her brow. He didn't. That would be inappropriate. But he thought about it.

  "Your point?" Count Valin cut into his thought.

  Bastian had spent most of this family lunch holding his piece. Now he would use the remaining time to speak freely. “My point is that despite everything, your royal family still managed to go above you and gjve Peregrine to me.”

  Count Valin said, “You dare–”

  “I do.” Bastian stated. “Peldeep is a monarchy, but our people have more rights and freedoms; something you have been trying to legislate here. Countess Peregrine will have that freedom. She will also have the entire royal guard of Peldeep to protect her - on top of the fact that the Assassin Assembly will close down all Fern contracts for a year and a day as a wedding present.”

  “How many assassination attempts are we talking?” Peregrine tugged at his sleeve.

  Bastian’s features softened as he stared down at the concerned countess. “As far as my reports go, at least eighteen this year. And it’s only April. And while everyone in Sumbria would assume you aren't eligible for assassination, Their Royal Highness knows otherwise. This would give you a year's reprieve.”

  “So the great fox has resorted to threats.” Count Valin leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “And you think that will work in your favour?”

  “No threats.” Bastian said. “I am only bringing up important information for everyone to consider. I am here to ask for Peregrine’s hand in marriage - which I’ve already secured in a magically binding contract registered with the Continental Council. However, it would be rude, and inconsiderate, to not greet you and show you that I mean no harm to your daughter. I will keep her safe and secure, to the best of my abilities, and make every effort to make her happy. Including routine visits home.”

  "The contract doesn't really matter, Bastian." Countess Primrose pointed out. "Our daughter's happiness means more than a [Bond Breaker] penalty."

  "Exactly." The count said.

  "If it helps," Peregrine reached out a hand and put in on Bastian's arm. "I am happy with the contract.

  Countess Primrose considered that. "Then we might as well accept this with dignity, Valin.”

  “I don’t have to like it.” The count sighed, “Rowen is scheming something, I just know it.”

  “Probably,” Bastian agreed.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “And I don’t have to like you.” Valin said. Bastian accepted the slight, though he hoped to change the elf's mind one day.

  “I think that’s time,” Peregrine glanced at the door.

  “Peregrine, remember what I taught you and you will do just fine in your new home.” Countess Primrose patted her lips with one of the napkins from the table, and then stood up. "And don’t forget to write

  “I wont.” Peregrine nodded, her eyes glossy with held back emotion.

  Reassured, Primrose turned on Bastian with a sudden fierce intensity that left sweat forming on the back of his neck. Her eyes pierced deep into his own, as if seeing right through him and his hidden thoughts.

  “Knight Commander Bastian of Peldeep,” Her voice was low and firm. “I approve this marriage, for now, and expect that you will uphold the promises you have made today. Valin?”

  The count stood as well, but he turned to Peregrine, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She answered simply.

  “Then I will approve this farce– this marriage,” He corrected after a poke from his wife, “But if anything happens, Peregrine, you come right home. To the fathoms with the contract.”

  “Alright,” Peregrine said, a small smile tugging at her lips and a soft light in her eye.

  “Thank you,” Bastian said, rising from the table. He held out a hand for Peregrine and she took it. Everyone was standing and ready when Countess Primrose undid her silence spell; Bastian’s notification tab letting him know that he was no longer under its effects.

  “Of course,” Countess Primrose said, pitching her voice slightly so that it carried, “you can’t forget Peregrine’s dress. I’ve been working on it since she turned five. Count Valin will show you where to find it. We will hope to attend the ceremony, but if we can’t, I expect no less than three portraits of the festivities. And a copy of the pamphlet. Maybe we could hold another ceremony here next year for family and friends–”

  The door opened and three maids came in. One was the same rude attendant from earlier, the second was an older elfess who looked happy to see us. The last was Lish, who looked as unhappy and stone-faced as ever.

  “Countess, the queen is expecting you.” The royal maid said.

  “Of course she is,” Primrose sighed. Turning to Valin she added, “I’ll see you in a few days. Don’t forget to water my roses, and don’t forget the dress, and the shoes, the sash and her hairpiece–”

  “I won’t forget.” Count Valin said firmly. “Try to eat more, or I’ll have to audit the kitchen staff again – if they aren’t doing their job, then something must be wrong with the budget.”

  The countess walked past the royal maid and out of the room, waving over her shoulder.

  The same royal maid who was looking at the count in stiff horror, “No need for that, I’m sure, the countess has plenty of meals sent to her workroom - she just doesn’t eat them.”

  Count Valin looked down his nose at the elf and stated clearly and with conviction, “If my wife isn’t eating, then I am auditing. Lish?”

  Lish stepped forward, “Yes, Prime Minister Fern?”

  “Prepare the carriage.” He announced. “Countess Peregrine and the Knight Commander are going back to home to pack. And tell Malory that I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

  “You don’t mean–” Lish started but stopped herself midsentence. “Right away, Prime Minister.”

  “Does the queen need us for anything before we depart?” Peregrine asked the royal maid, who looked like she had been forced to suck an unripe citron.

  “No.” Came the short reply. “If your business is done here, then you may go - Her Majesty expects you will want to leave quickly if you’re going to make it to Peldeep in time to prepare for your wedding.”

  “Of course,” Peregrine nodded and squeezed Bastian's arm, leading him back out the door they'd come in.

  (verses 1-5 by Skald-Brandr Toralfsson

  verse 6 is the original anonymous creation

  verse 7 from the HOPSFA Hymnal 3rd Edition)

  A grazing mace, how sweet the sound, that felled my foe for me

  I bashed his head, he struck the ground, and thus came victory

  My mace has taught my foes to fear, that mace my fear relieved

  How precious did my mace appear, when I my mace received

  Through many tourneys wars and fairs, I have already come

  My mace has brought me safe thus far, my mace will bring me home

  The King has promised good to me, his word my hope secures

  I will his shield and weapon be, when he gives me my spurs

  And when my mace my foeman nails, that mortal strife shall cease

  And we'll possess within our pale, a life of joy and peace

  A grazing mace, how sweet the sound that flattened a wretch like thee!

  Whose head is flat, that once was round; done in by my mace....and me!

  A grazing mace, how sweet the sound that smites a foe like thee

  You're left there lying on the ground, you've left the field to me!

  tune: "Amazing Grace"