***
Dinner was quiet, Elizabeth and Pierre being joined only by Vivien and his family, with the other advisors either not at the home or wishing to meet tomorrow. Lady Maiolaine Yvette was introduced, along with their children, Bastien Dion, Apolla Sidonie, and Eliana Narcisse. The discussions were light—about their journey, the food, and similar things.
At dessert Apolla asked where their grandmother was. Vivien explained that his mother lived here as well, but was feeling unwell that evening and could not attend.
“She has a headache and sends her apologies. I am sure she will wish to meet you soon.”
“Tibault sends his apologies as well,” Maiolaine added to Pierre. “Brother will meet you tomorrow. He is quite new to Spadille himself and does not wish to impose. Our cousin, Perdita, lives here as well, as a lady-in-waiting to Lady Cordelia, Lord Jourdain’s wife.”
“Of course, it will be a pleasure to become acquainted with everyone.”
***
The night Elizabeth dreamt. She walked the halls of the château, trying to find her room, and being unable to make sense of any of the corridors. Finally, a large set of doors stood before her. Something called to her to enter and before she could wonder why she had that feeling she was going into a large library.
Even standing on her toes she barely reached the half-way point of the bookcases. They were filled with a multitude of tomes and scrolls and maps. A few lamps were already lit in the room and long shadows were cast upon the long walls. She began to walk and read, head tilted to the side to see the titles better. The further in she crept the dustier the books were, the subject matter going from histories and fictions to whole shelves devoted to magic, cræft, and the fée. The feeling of being pulled towards a specific place did not dissipate.
She had read many books on similar subjects from home already, but among these there were titles she had never seen before, knowledge that was new. It reminded her that she should ask Pierre later on about that tutor in blancræft.
Thump!
She jumped in her spot at the sound. Turning around she saw a book had fallen from a high shelf. As she was about to go pick it up, another woman stepped from the heavy shadows and reached it first. She wore a mourning dress in deep black with a garland of flowers around her wrist. It was too dark for Lizzy to recognize them.
“Oh, forgive me, I did not mean to intrude,” Lizzy said when the mourner looked up to her. “I thought I was alone.”
“Do not worry yourself, my lady,” the other said. Her eyes were red- the irises themselves, not from weeping. But that was merely a trick of the light, surely, and the dusty lamps whose glow was not as bright as they should be.
“I see you are interest in magic?” the stranger gestured around to the section of the library they were in.
“I have always been.”
The other nodded.
“I am Elizabeth Anne,” she said, hoping to gain a connection to the other. She did not mention her title.
“Greetings, Lady Elizabeth Anne.” The other woman did not offer her name and, given the mourning dress, Elizabeth felt rude prying.
The fires in the lamps flickered. Lizzy found she could not move as the other woman then came over to her. She held out the book that had fallen before, clean of any dust though every other tome in this section had been filthy.
“There are many magics in the world, Elizabeth,” the woman said. “Humans have little of it inherently, but can learn almost any kind with enough practice. It is why they are my favorite. You want to learn to create fire or become a beast, all you need to do is go to the realm where such spirits thrive and gain control over them. Through force, or coaxing, or mutual agreement, it matters not- they will see you are equal measure of all the humors and therefore can inhibit your body and thrive. You are fertile soil for magic.
“And in you there is healing.”
The woman took Elizabeth’s hands, spreading them out, the heavy book open atop them. The woman then placed her finger at the center of the binding. It was bent at an odd angle, healed wrong having been broken at some time in the past. Before Lizzy knew what was happened the tome slammed shut on the finger. She dropped the book with a gasp and grabbed the woman’s hand. It was bloody, her nail almost peeled off, and bent at an even worse angle where a bone had snapped again.
“Forgive me, I do not know why—I—” As she held the other’s hand the finger straightened, the nail reattached, and the blood crept back from the wound before it healed over, now straight and without blemish.
“There will always be pain in the world,” the woman continued. The entire time her face had not changed expression, showing not fear or pain or surprise, only a small sad smile. “Sometimes it is your fault, sometimes an accident, sometimes it is Amôru’s plan. Sometimes it is not His plan, but He makes use of it. Sometimes you need the pain to heal.”
The woman vanished.
Six
He woke in a room that brought back memories in the morning light. Pierre had chosen to sleep in his childhood room last night and it had been an indulgence granted him. Most of his things were in the larger suite where he would stay from now on, but the first night in a new place, or a familiar place that had not been visited recently, was special.
Pluta was already awake inspecting the room and looking through old toys and books. As he had not met her until he was older and living with Ophion this whole building was new to her. She was no doubt curious about her master’s younger life.
Most of the things in the room were as they had been years ago. It had never been cleared out, though it had been kept clean, perhaps out of respect and then habit.
“What have you found there, Pluta?” he asked, craning his neck to look at his cat. She was hitting something across the room and running to it only to hit it again.
“It smells like you and outside,” she replied, picking it up in her mouth and bringing it over to him. “My favorite things. I like it.”
It was a ball, just the right size to fit in a small child’s hands, made of leaves, feathers, and string. When Pierre touched it he felt a jolt go through his palms. So that is how it had not decayed, it was wrapped in magic just as much as the physical material. His père must have made it for him. A memory surfaced of Félicien in a meeting, not paying the least bit of attention, but instead playing catch with him. Pierre had hidden under the table and its thick tablecloth, tossing the ball towards him who caught it every time with one hand in his lap, sight unseen. It was also the first time the young boy had found himself interested in politics.
“Please don’t destroy it,” he asked Pluta, tossing it out into the room.
“I do not think I could if I wanted to, there is much magic in it. But I will be careful.” She returned to batting it across the room.
He watched for a while, lost in memories as much as his pet’s game, but finally got up to dress.
He would meet with his council today—several men chosen by his brother to help with the ruling of Piques. Aimé had had the same men at his disposal for advisory and it was not a smudge on Pierre to inherit them but an honor.
He knew Charlot some, as well as Vivien now, but the rest were unknown.
Most of his clothes were in the guest quarters he should have been sleeping in, but a few things were laid out for the day here. He had to trust the servants knew of his schedule and had picked appropriate attire.
“Come along, Pluta,” he said.
***
He first had breakfast with Elizabeth, still preferring the company of those that he knew well for the time being. A servant entered the room more often than might be usual, no doubt playing a chaperon for the two (the assumption given more weight as they stopped coming in as often after Wolfram joined them near the end of the meal).
“Did I choose the correct clothes, Your Grace?” the boy asked, sitting beside him after greeting them both.
“You picked the clothing?” Lizzy looked over his clothes, now
with a more critical eye, and by her smile she approved.
“I said I would be at your desire and aid, Your Grace.”
“You did, Wolfram, thank you.” The boy was proving truly devoted. If he had even been half as involved with Ophion, Pierre felt guilty for having taken him without asking. That Wolfram had no parents and was essentially a ward of the state let him be moved around at the whim of those in power. Pierre outranked his uncle and could take the boy without repercussion, but he did expect a letter soon if there was not already one waiting for him somewhere.
“Good morning, Wolfram,” Lizzy said. “So you have decided to be his close aid?”
“I owe him a debt, and I wish to repay it.”
“Oh, a debt?” She looked between the two. “Pray, what has our dear duc done that you would repay him so?”
“That is a secret among men, my lady,” Pierre interrupted her. “So I must declare this topic forbidden.”
“Oh, my apologies then, keep those thoughts to yourself.”
They chatted among themselves, Wolfram speaking more of his personal life with Elizabeth’s coaxing, though did not reveal very much. They were only two and a half years apart, far less than Pierre and Lizzy. Their stations in life would never make them peers, but there would be an understanding there that Pierre and Elizabeth could not have.
“And what happened to her?” Lizzy asked after Wolfram had spoken of Salome and her illness. The boy stopped, unable to come up with a quick lie.
“It is part of my debt,” Pierre cut in. “It seems you shall find out what I have done after all. I could not find out the reason for her illness so I sent her into Faery. You actually helped, Elizabeth, by reminding me of my connections to the land. I am told she will be returned to us, both healed and not aged a day, though we do not know how long it will take. Wolfram decided to accompany me until her return. Given that Piques is so close to Faery, we hope her return will be swift.”
“Oh, I do hope so. I would love to meet her as well,” she replied. “And forgive me, I did not mean to pry about your secret. I did not know those were related.”
“Forgiven, of course.”
This worked well with the rumor that Pierre had begun to spread about Salome disappearing at Springfinding to explain her absence. The servant that had brought them drinks to finish their meal had seemed very interested in the debt as well, surely the story would be all about the château by dinnertime. Most would not pay much attention to Salome’s disappearance, she was only at the castle as Wolfram’s guest and Ophion’s patient, her presence or lack thereof would not register as important to many, but contingencies and alibis were always helpful.
A second servant then walked in with a message for Pierre. He took it and scanned it quickly after thanking the man. “It seems the council’s meeting shall begin whenever I arrive at my earliest convenience,” he said.
Not wishing to keep them waiting too long he smiled at the companions who had had breakfast with him before folding his napkin and standing. He bowed over Elizabeth and kissed both her hand and then her cheek, and gave Wolfram a nod of thanks.
“Do keep Pluta company. I fear it may be rude for our first meeting to involve my pet. They do not know how close I like to keep her.” They would know soon, but first impressions would be important, and a mostly formal meeting with his pet would be rude.
Upon unspoken understanding when Pierre left with the servant who had brought the note in the first place they began to walk down the hall towards the meeting room, said servant in front with the duc following. Even not knowing where he was going he knew which room it was as they walked up to it, the guarded large double-doors, in deep red, speaking for themselves.
Said doors were opened for him on each side and he entered.
It was more formal than a sitting room, made for important decisions and long discussion. Six men each sat in their own large armchair, a semi-circle before a great desk, already talking amongst themselves. There was a small table in the middle with a full decanter and glasses, none were in use right now, while the walls were lined with books and maps. It seemed the decor had changed since his childhood; he was certain now that the memory from the morning had taken place in this room.
The moment he was noticed they all stood to attention. He passed by them, nodding a welcome before standing in front of his desk and looking at each one in turn. His eyes were first drawn to the wolf. It sat by the chair of the man furthest to the right, apart even from the other five, and it watched him without blinking. The golden color of its fur seemed unnatural with the amount of sparkle the coat had. The man beside the wolf was stroking its head like it was a perfectly normal thing to bring a wolf to a meeting.
“This is Magec,” the man said, noticing that Pierre was looking at him and his pet. “He is a faithful companion and will do you no harm, My Grace. And I am your Margrave, Lord Elwin of Spadille and now Spadé,” he added at the end with a bow.
“Lord Spadé, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Pierre replied. This man had helped raise his père and was in some ways his grandfather more than the old late duc of Piques. He moved from his desk and out to where the first advisor stood to shake hands. Elwin was tall and even Pierre had to look up to meet his eyes. The man’s hair was almost the same color as his wolf’s fur, and his eyes were jade green. He had no facial hair, though a scar ran along the left side of his jaw. His attire was varying shades of green and brown, in an older style that was not suited for this meeting, but he seemed to care as much as Pierre did about colors and dress code, that is- in certain circumstances not at all.
The wolf leaned over and sniffed Pierre’s hand, then nudged him so he could get a greeting and a scratch as well. Pierre smiled and wondered what Pluta would think of the fée beast. As he straightened Pierre noted that the next advisor was at least twice as far away from Elwin as the rest. Were they worried about the wolf or the man?
But he moved to shake Charlot Alexandre’s hand with a smile. The heir to the duchy of Diamonds looked much like his sister, the princess—light blonde hair and a soft smile, though his eyes were a hazel instead of her green. Pierre had met him in passing, they were somewhat family, but did not know him very well. His attire was a proper black and white.
“Your future Grace, I thank you for your wish to stay and help before returning to your own lands,” Pierre said. Charlot’s parents were still living and so, though he was of-age, he need not take up the title or duties just yet.
“We will be working together for the good of the kingdom, it is a delight to be your aid until I am a duc myself.”
The next two men looked very similar in appearance, both with dark brown hair (though one had more of a reddish tint to it than the other), one with eyes of green and the other blue. The duc had never met either.
“The honorable sons of Feuilles,” Vivien introduced from the far left. “They are Jourdain Antonin and Renaud Paul.” Each nodded his welcome at his name— Jourdain was the one next to Charlot with green eyes, and Renaud was further left with the reddish hair and blue eyes. He would ask Pluta to watch them. If their father was planning on over-taking his claim one or both of them were likely to be involved.
Next, Vivien introduced the youngest there, Tibault Rainier, who had at nineteen not yet had his majority. He was here as Lord Bladeren’s heir, to learn as much as to advise, and would stay a year or two before returning home. After that his younger brother might then also come up to learn and study from the duc.
Like Charlot he was the second-born child and heir. Women, unless in dire circumstances, were rarely the heirs themselves even if the eldest. It was only when no other children were born for quite some time that they were given the title, and then their husbands would often take over when they wed.
Vivien was last and Pierre greeted his steward the same as the rest though they had met properly already.
After the duc had finished he walked back behind his desk and sat, motioning for the rest to do so as well
.
“Welcome all, and my many thanks once again. I will try and keep this brief for today, but I hope we may meet every fortnight to discuss the land and how things are progressing. More informally we may, of course, discuss matters daily.”
It was agreed, though Lord Elwin could not promise he could attend each one with him often in another plane and not living at the château. This did not sit well with all of the other advisors, but beside some brief looks nothing was said out of turn. Pierre made note of it anyway. He may not know Elwin well yet, but they were kin, and that was enough to wish to defend him.
Not long into the meeting one of Feuilles’s sons, Renaud, spoke up, “Lord Elwin, I do not believe you have told His Grace your full name.”
The man with the wolf smiled. “I did not. My wife cured me of that habit decades ago. You do not truly believe I shall speak it out in the open where just anyone can hear?”
“Are you implying you do not trust His Grace?”
“Not at all, do not presume to interpret my words as more than what I say exactly. I will gladly tell him all of my secrets.” The unspoken implication that the other advisors were the ones untrusted hung in the air.
In Clandestina it was custom to give a child two names, one from their father and one from their mother. The fée did this as well, but often only revealed one of their names. To know the whole name of a person was to be able to control them among the fée. It could also be bought for a price. Most humans felt it impolite not to give their whole name as it implied you did not trust the person.
“It is not needed,” Pierre said, already feeling that those two did not get along. Or more so that Elwin was an outsider among them all. “You were chosen by my père, Lord Elwin, and that I trust above all. As I was saying, the prince and I spoke some about what has been happening, and then my steward informed me of more, but I wish to know everyone’s individual thoughts.”
Renaud did not seem happy to be dismissed but he kept quiet.
Delphinium- or A Necromancer's Home Page 6
