Niklas listened attentively, though with no small amount of confusion, as Lady Merida recounted the tale of how she and this ‘Aewyn’ had frolicked in the grass for hours, pleasantly chatting one carefree day away. However, as she spoke he noticed a melancholy smile steadily begin to grow upon the Lady from Stoppridge’s normally collected face.
Perhaps this is a tale that she needs to say aloud more for her own sake than for mine? He wondered to himself as he sipped at his wine and continued to listen.
Thus far, it sounded as though this was quite a wonderful memory–so, naturally, Niklas began to dread the inevitable moment he learned exactly why Lady Merida had such a sad look in her eyes as she recounted it.
As the story continued, at a break in the heavy canopy of the forest the two girls lay themselves down to rest near a beautiful sunlit stream. There they laughed and joked amongst each other, shared their likes and dislikes, and confessed the hopes and fears closest to their hearts. One of many such dates that had brought these two birds together so close. However, at one point Lady Merida stopped and swallowed heavily before she continued.
“And then he found us.”
Her eyes cast a telling glance up at him, shocking his nerves and nearly causing Niklas to choke on his wine.
“Wh-who found you?” He asked, for she clearly wished for him to before she continued.
“Why, none other than my cousin, the late Count himself. Although in those times he was merely Ivan, and betrothed to Aewyn.”
Niklas gulped audibly. By Lady Merida’s own recount he was just as large and wide a person as his daughter is now but twice as dour, if such a thing was even possible.
But he was to be wed to a daughter of the great Duke of Lionel? There was no mention of it in any of the records of which I have perused so far. Neither did I ever hear tell of such a pairing when I resided in the Estate van der Leigh.
As if reading his very thoughts, Lady Merida chuckled a little. “Knowledge of the arrangement was not so common at the time. For as Lord Ivan grew older, he also grew... darker. He seemed a perfectly normal lad in his infancy, but something began to take hold of his heart during his adolescence… And its grip only grew tighter and more twisted after his parents passed and he took the reins of the County, which was not then as poor and weak as it is now.”
With some difficulty she continued on with her tale, telling of how Lord Ivan tracked the pair to their merry private gathering, approached them with a most hostile demeanor, and immediately demanded young Aewyn return to the Lionel estate. The three had fallen into a tense argument then, for at the time the Lionel family had acted quite protectively over the fragile Aewyn–sometimes even to the point of suffocation.
“Before those days we were as close as siblings, for we had been raised as such.” Lady Merida explained after taking another fortifying sip of her wine. “So I thought little of this outburst, and those leading up to it I dismissed as minor bouts of petty jealousy.”
Her expression flickered with a repressed grimace and she took a long, slow breath before she continued her story. Whatever events had followed on the heels of this first scene were clearly troubling for her to speak of.
“I held firm and told him that the two of us would return in due time and at our leisure, since Aewyn could use the fresh air and exercise. And then, when I turned away from him to help my companion to her feet so that we could depart…” She then paused to turn her head and let down her hair from its tight bun, revealing that beneath it was hidden an open patch of scar tissue located at the back of her skull. “...Ivan seized on a large stone, along with this opportune moment, and struck me down. He then continued to beat me while I lay defenseless on the ground in a growing pool of my own blood.”
Niklas’ eyes grew wide with shock, for he never would have expected such crude and honorless violence from a man raised with a Noble education, and one whom he knew had gone on to become a Lord of high standing as well!
“To this day I can recall very little of the evening after that, or the few days which immediately followed. From what information I was able to gather, after he attacked me Ivan took Aewyn by the hand and forcefully dragged her back to the estate, injuring her terribly in the process due to her delicate constitution and distress. Ivan then spun a false tale of what transpired between us, one which lay the blame for her injury at my feet, all while I was recovering from my near-fatal head wounds and not yet lucid enough to refute his claims. I could not defend myself, and Aewyn was in such a state of shock that she could not speak, and so Ivan’s account was believed without question.”
Niklas leaned forward to rest his chin upon his laced fingers, his brow deeply furrowed as he processed everything he had learned. “So the reason why you had ended up in the position of a mere Mayor in Stoppridge, rather than serving as the Steward of Petrice during Uldred’s adolescence...”
Lady Merida nodded solemnly in reply, her countenance as carefully neutral as ever. “By the time I recovered enough to properly come to my senses, I had already been shipped back to Castle Petrice. The Lionels were furious with my alleged conduct, and forbade me from making any further contact with Aewyn. My uncle sympathized with my situation, and believed me when I told him what little I could remember, but he could not go against the word of a Duke. Ever since then I have lived in Stoppridge, where I eventually took up the mantle of its Lord.”
“I thank you for the tale. It was very informative.” Niklas replied, his tone one of formal but sincere gratitude. “But still... I am not quite sure–why is it you have told all this to me?”
Lady Merida looked him dead in the eyes then, her piercing gaze causing a shiver of goosebumps to crawl across the back of Niklas’ neck. “Because I see symptoms of the same curse which afflicted my cousin in our Uldred.”
Niklas’ eyes grew wide at this revelation, and his spine went rigid where he sat. “You don’t mean..?”
“At first, it was a darkening of the mood. Then, Ivan would shut himself away in his quarters for days at a time, withdrawing from sunlight and the rest of the world at large. When he did emerge from his self-imposed hermitage he was silent and withdrawn, but quick to anger and prone to respond to the slightest grievances with violent outbursts, not unlike the one he fell into when he waylaid Aewyn and I in the forest of the Lionel estate. Does this not sound familiar?”
Niklas grit his teeth, greatly unsettled all the more by the fact that her words were not without merit. He had indeed witnessed the Countess engaging in similar actions during the months following his arrival in Petrice.
“This is my warning to you my Lord, with all due respect: do not get too close. Descendants of the Line of Petrice have bodies which are strong and well-formed, but their minds are plagued with a terrible curse. Those who fall prey to it are dangerous; unable to distinguish their allies from their enemies, they inevitably become little more than wild beasts. You might think that you know them, but when they fall into such a primal and twisted mindstate, there is nothing so good in their lives that they will hesitate to destroy it. It cannot be helped or cured; it is rooted within the very blood.”
With that Lady Merida drained her glass in one swift movement, her expression uncharacteristically tense with frustration, before rising from her seat and marching over to the door. Niklas noted her sudden rise in temper as he watched her go. She put one hand upon the door, but before she departed, Merida stopped to look back over her shoulder at him one last time.
“...Thank you for your time.” Was all she said before she left Niklas there to wrestle with his thoughts, and process everything he had just learned, alone.
It was indeed a tale that both saddened and angered him. Before this meeting he had not known much of the late Count, much less any good things about the man, and this was a level of depravity he had unfortunately expected based on his limited knowledge of the man’s legacy. And yet, when Lady Merida had spoken of Uldred at the end, just before she had left, she had given every indication that she held a similar–if not greater–amount of contempt for the young Countess. And she somehow felt this way despite the very few times the two had met, and how little the two personally knew of one another.
He grimaced, his head throbbing painfully as he attempted to piece together the situation, and he finally gave it up and quickly drained his own glass. It was just as well, for the sour taste the conversation had left on his tongue now turned that exquisite wine into a bitter and acrid brew.
“I am... not so sure I agree with you, Lady Mayor.” He said aloud, but the only one there to hear his conviction was himself.
The next morning the last of the villagers finally departed back to their homes, with Niklas, Thomas, Nayantara, Hemsley and Belfort there to see them off. Uldred was not present.
As the delegation from Stoppridge grew smaller against the horizon, just before they were about to vanish from view over the fair hills, one of the tiny figures stopped and appeared to spend several moments peering back at them across the vast distance. Somehow, deep in his gut, Niklas knew that it must be Lady Merida there, sat perched atop her horse, taking one last long look upon her childhood home. Indeed, many miles away, that same Lady set her jaw as she rested her reddened eyes on that dark and menacing castle, before she finally turned–nay, pulled herself away from the sight of it–and began the journey that would return her to her true home, for good.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I wonder if she hoped that Uldred would see her off? Niklas wondered as the delegation at last disappeared from view, the thought causing a knot to twist within his stomach. As if her niece’s presence might disprove all of the horrible conclusions she’s drawn about her character, or some such nonsense.
The next and final departure was made by the visitors from Thuud: Finona and her band of youngsters. They were much more merry people than those from Castle Petrice were used to, for as they left they waved and cheered and called farewells back for as long as their voices could still be heard. No doubt their moods had been elevated tremendously by the gifts that they would be returning with, for Niklas had furnished them each with spears, maces, and quilted cloth armor supplied from the Castle armory. He had done so in part because, of all the villages South of the Castle, Thuud was the furthest West. If a crisis were to occur there then sending them the means to protect themselves would take the longest, so it was all for the better if they in particular had something already on hand. At the same time, Niklas secretly hoped that the many villages that those lively youths must pass on their return might spy these gifted armaments as evidence of his commitment to their protection, and would then think better of him.
It is the perfect plan! Niklas thought, rubbing his hands together and cackling to himself, drawing not a small amount of confused and concerned looks from his companions.
And thus, finally, Castle Petrice was empty once more. This was the first time it had been free of guests since that mob had kicked in their door several months prior!
Finally: some peace and quiet! Niklas' thoughts bubbled up gleefully as his friends and servants dispersed, returning back to their own tasks and duties. Time for some well-earned relaxation..!
“--Are you the Count?” A young and unfamiliar voice emerged from the open gate portcullis, startling Niklas greatly.
“Y-yes? Who is it?” He asked, doing his best to regain his composure.
A man about his own age stepped into view then; he was well-groomed and draped in a Royal Tabard which depicted the flag of the Kingdom. At his back waited a horse of fine breeding in gleaming, high-quality tack, and at his side rested a large satchel, from which he then pulled a rolled parchment.
“You’re a messenger, then?” Niklas observed, taking the scroll after it was proffered to him and replacing it with a few silver coins.
“Oh! Thank you, your Lordship.” The lad said, marveling at the small wealth. “Now if only there were something to spend it on around here!” He laughed, before he turned and led his horse away.
Whatever could this be, arriving all of a sudden? Niklas wondered to himself as he broke the wax seal and unrolled the missive so that he could set his eyes upon its contents.
As his gaze crossed back and forth over the parchment his eyes began to grow wider and wider, his brows rose and furrowed with worry, and his skin began to pale. Receiving information of this dire importance, he did not have a second to waste.
“B-Belfort!”
Soon enough there were three grim and worried faces staring down at that most untimely royal message, which had since been unfurled and laid upon the dining-room table. The parchment itself was of such exquisite quality that the identity of its sender could not be denied, and beyond that its borders had been decorated with tasteful flourishes painted in gold, and it even smelled lightly of high-end cologne.
Belfort, Hemsley, and Niklas looked at each other for a long, silent moment, taking in the worry that etched itself clearly into each of their faces , and then as one they all turned their gazes back down to that troubling parchment.
“It is... most terrible news.” Belfort said solemnly, his voice soft as it broke the heavy silence of the room.
Hemsley nodded with the same air of solemnity. “Truly.”
“...Why would they make an impossible demand of us?” Niklas spat bitterly, his voice sharp with exasperation and his fists trembling with restrained anger where he held them clenched tight at his sides.
Belfort’s eyes narrowed as he voiced his suspicion. “Perhaps this was their plan all along, arranged to destroy us from within.”
“But if that were true, why’d they bother sending us that ‘uge dowry..?” Hemsley asked.
Niklas folded his arms before himself and shook his head. “Well, regardless, the answer is simple enough. There is no way that we can comply to this order–it would mean the end of us! And one so ugly I cannot bring myself to imagine it.”
To that point, all three men nodded in complete agreement.
“What, exactly... will be our end?” The three conspirators started as a deep, dark, and horribly familiar voice emerged the back of the room: it was one which Niklas had not heard for the past fortnight.
The two servants looked up in alarm, a shiver of goosebumps running up their spines, while Niklas spun on his heels with an excited look on his face–one which fell as quickly as it had appeared.
“Oh, come off it!” He cried in obvious disappointment.
For the young man had turned with every expectation that he would take in the sight of his wife, who had clearly bravely overcome her neurotic fears and to finally step out into the light.But instead was met with a truly ridiculous sight, for Uldred stood before them not in her usual suit of dark leather armor, but instead a long, long nightgown, one capable of obscuring everything from her neck all the way down to her ankles despite her great height. To top it off, in order to cover her face, the woman had clearly removed the fabric cover that had protected one of her many cushions and torn two rough, ragged eye-holes to see through it.
“What is this?” Niklas demanded, aghast, his arms gesticulating wildly to convey the sheer scope of his incredulity. “This cannot be what a Noblewoman wears in her own home!” He scolded as she ignored his sputtering and strode past him, her violet eyes trained on the table where that royal scroll had been laid.
In a flash, Hemsley and Belfort threw themselves forward to bar her way! Uldred narrowed her eyes dangerously at their clear act of insubordination.
“Out of the way.” She commanded them icily, her tone clearly saying ‘You serve me as your master, and I will tolerate no further disobedience,’ but the two small men bravely stood their ground.
Hemsley gulped audibly, but he refused to budge. “W-we shall not, m’Lady!”
“We must do this for the survival of the County. We shall–no, we must–stop you, even if we cannot match your strength m’Lady!” Belfort stated firmly, his jaw set in grim determination even as nervous sweat beaded along his wrinkled brow.
Moving from behind Uldred, Niklas suddenly interrupted their stand-off and wrapped his arms around her waist, using every scrap of the scant strength his tiny body could muster to hold her massive frame in place for even a second more. “The letter! Burn it, quick!” He ordered frantically.
Uldred’s eyes grew wide. She lunged forward towards the table before the servants could even think to move! There was nothing they could do but leap up and wrap themselves fully around each of her arms, even as Niklas was pulled along where he clung to her back! In an impressive display of athleticism, Belfort reached back with one hand and snatched up the royal writ from the table, holding it as far back as he could so that Uldred could neither see nor lay her hands upon it!
“If it is a danger to the County then I must know of it!” She roared.
With a powerful stroke of her left arm, Hemsley was sent sprawling away onto the cobbled stone floor below! With one of her arms freed, she was able to reach back and take ahold of Niklas by the scruff of his neck. She then lobbed him much like a child’s ball, and he soared straight into Hemsley, the two of them colliding and rolling into a heap on the floor.
Belfort, who still hung from her right arm like some kind of ape latched upon a tree branch, looked up at his Mistress with a resigned expression. “I knew that we were no match for you, my Lady, but understand… we had to try.”
Uldred acknowledged his warrior’s spirit with a slow nod of respect, and then without another word she lifted up her arm and slammed him down with great force onto the long table before them, which shattered and splintered into many small pieces.
Having bested her foes, small fries as they had been, Uldred then reached down over Belfort’s spent and sputtering form and plucked the royal note from his grasp. Niklas, with what little power he had left in his battered body, clambered over the fallen Hemsley and reached out a shaking hand towards his wife.
“--Uldred, don’t be rash! We can still prevent this. I will take all of the consequences upon my own shoulders!”
The giantess stopped in her tracks and glanced back at him through the holes in that ridiculous, threadbare pillowcase she still wore upon her head, her violet eyes narrowed with suspicion. His voice steadied as he made his final, desperate entreaty to her.
“Please, believe me, for I say this to you now as an advisor speaking my liege-Lord: if you look upon that document, it will all be over. Everything we’ve done will be for naught.”
She hesitated at his words–surely there was still some hope for them! Uldred stared back at him for a long, silent moment, obviously deep in contemplation. But then his body went slumped in despair as he watched her slowly turn her head to gaze down upon that crumpled note, unfurling it once more to read its contents.
“No!” Niklas cried out then, his voice breaking with a choked sob like a condemned man who had just been read his own death sentence.
As she read, Uldred’s eyes widened with the same bone-deep terror they had felt before her, and she realized, far too late, that they truly had been trying to save Petrice, even when that meant throwing themselves into the line of fire. Yet her foolish pride and her stubborn, unwavering curiosity had just doomed not only herself, but everyone she had worked so hard to protect! As she fell to her knees in dismay, her grip slackened and let the paper fall to the floor below, its contents now bare. Its horrors lay exposed for the world to see. And thus, it read:
“You have been cordially invited!
His Majesty King Boratan III requests the honor of your presence at the Kingdom of Boratan Founding's Day Ball, an evening of elegance and excellence. Join us at the royal capital for many days of music and dancing, culinary arts and entertainment. His Majesty would like to personally invite the Count and Countess of Petrice to attend this celebration as the guests of Honor!
