Chapter 42: Strolling Through Strife (Patreon)

The King peered down at the Troivackian Knights that were training in the ring in the early reaches of dawn with an unreadable expression on his face. He had positioned himself in the window on the second floor to watch the men, standing far enough back that he wouldn’t be seen.

The soldiers fought relying on their brute strength more than nuanced movements, an accurate report from Captain Antonio. Norman continued watching them bash each other mercilessly. There wasn’t an ounce of humor in their faces, and none of them spoke as they exchanged blows. Lord Piereva seemed to have fully recovered from his illness as he set to hammering down anyone that crossed blades with him. 

Direct. Ruthless. No hesitations. 

Norman turned from the window to see Annika standing pressed against the corridor wall looking particularly pale. 

“Shall we?” He offered his arm to her as she straightened with a perfectly blank expression and took his arm gratefully. 

Even through his sleeve Norman could feel the heat rolling off of her in waves. 

“Is your wound infected?” He demanded in low tones. 

“It is indeed. Do not worry, I’ve poured moonshine over the affliction and drained it this morning. Clara has already stitched me again.” 

The King cast a worried glance down at the top of her silky black hair. 

“You had to have it stitched again?” 

“Lord Ryu wanted to go riding last evening for our courting time.”

The King let out a small breath of displeasure as the pair made their way to the war counsel room in the North end of the castle. 

He went considerably slower than his usual brisk pace out of consideration for Lady Jenoure’s condition, and began contemplating the list of questions he had thought of the previous night for their meeting. 

At long last they made it to their destination, where Annika hastily crossed the room to the nearest chair and half collapsed into its waiting seat. 

“Please forgive my lack of curtsy your highness.” The Lady leaned her head back against the chairs high back, and listened as the King slowly seated himself closer to her than his usual spot would have him. 

“It is I who should ask your forgiveness Annika. You are shouldering no small feat from me, and I ask you to do so with nothing but a smile.” Norman shook his head sadly as he grimaced. “I’m afraid I once again must ask your duty and inform me if you’ve learned anything.” 

“The last two of the men I dispatched…” She took a deep breath before continuing as a sweat broke out over her brow. “They mentioned that there were other Troivackians in Austice. I don’t think we know of any men other than the ones under the castle roof… my gut tells me something is wrong.” She managed to crack open her glassy eyes and stare into Norman’s piercing hazel ones. 

The King leaned back in his chair, and gently stroked his pointed beard tip thoughtfully. 

“I’ll send a couple of my more discreet men to investigate the lower end of Austice and see if there is potentially any word of abandoned buildings becoming occupied more recently.” He reasoned out aloud. 

“I have to…” Annika rested her forearms on the table in front of her and pressed on them heavily in a very unladylike manner. 

Norman’s worry for her tripled. 

“I have to go to my holding on the waterfront before the Prince’s ball anyway, so I will investigate myself.” She leveled the King with an uncharacteristically direct stare. 

“Is there anything else you need to tell me?” Norman asked gently, clearly hoping that he could allow the poor woman back to her chamber. 

“I had to send Corey away after he buried the bodies. They clearly worked out that he was one of my informants so it wouldn’t be safe to keep him nearby.” She managed to say while slowly pushing herself back to her feet. The King rose to his feet swiftly and reached for her forearm.

“I figured as much. Now if there isn’t anything else, go rest. I am ordering you to stay in bed for the remainder of the day.” Norman gently laid her hand on his arm and turned her towards the closed counsel room door. 

“No hurry. It is more relaxing here than my chamber.” She informed him with a small pained chuckle.

“Would that have anything to do with that dour woman your brother ‘gifted’ you as a new maid who is undoubtedly a spy?” 

“The one and only.” She grunted as they neared her chamber. 

“How is it you managed to evade her to meet me this morning?” 

When they reached her chamber, the King unlatched the door for her and gestured inside for her. Clara, who had been stitching on a chair by the fireplace, immediately rose to her feet. The dutiful lady’s maid was at Annika’s side instantly. 

“Clara sent her to go beat the dust from the tapestries in my room.” Annika managed to reply as she gracefully shifted her reliance on the King’s guidance to the maid’s.

“At first light?” The King asked, clearly amused at her antics. 

“With my illness I’m having trouble sleeping, so I am up at all hours. My new ‘gift’ has been wonderfully helpful to me in those times.” Annika managed a weak smile as she slowly made her way towards her bed, and seated herself atop the deep burgundy coverlet. 

“Very well, I shall leave you for some semblance of peace.” The King headed back out the way he had come and turned back around suddenly. 

“Why is it you need to go to your estate in the North of Austice before the ball by the way?” 

Annika’s eyelids fluttered as she began to sway gently where she sat. 

“Hm?” 

Norman shook his head over his own callousness; he had already pushed her enough for the day. 

“Never mind. I will ask again at a later time.” 

Once he closed the door, Annika eased her way back to rest against her snowy white pillows, and let out a shallow breath as Clara hovered nearby pouring her mistress a cool cup of water. 

“I don’t like you deceiving the King.” The woman announced disapprovingly. 

“He’ll thank me for it later. Can you honestly see me going back to being a good wife to someone?” Annika accepted the cup offered to her and drained it gratefully. 

“You were a good wife?” Clara’s soft voice didn’t fail to convey her note of sarcasm. 

“Towards the end, I was the picture perfect wife and you know it. So what if I had a rough start?”

“You set fire to Lord Jenoure’s banquet hall.”

“I set one fire and you’ve never let it go.” Annika muttered, closing her eyes against the pounding headache in her temples. 

“What about when you removed the painting of his mother and replaced it with a depiction of a naked, muscled, well-endowed Troivackian man?” Mirth danced in Clara’s deep blue eyes. Her milky white skin remained unblemished, as was her usual, from emotion. 

“Hank had that one coming. He insisted I wasn’t making myself at home and badgered me about it for the first three months of our marriage. Besides, at least the subject of my painting trimmed his mustache.”

“What about the time with Lord Jenoure’s flock of sheep when you-”

“Clara, yes I rebelled at first- especially because I was insanely bored in his country estate, but could we please revisit the glory days when it doesn’t feel as though I’m roasting in hell?” 

Back when Annika had first married Hank, she hadn’t been able to continue her espionage profession. The boredom and frustration had lead to her acting out in anger over her unsettling helplessness of being forced to marry and live in a foreign land. The result had been several juvenile acts of personal revenge. Why had an old man wanted to marry her anyway?

Hank had always responded with good humor and kindness, forcing her to repent and become ladened with guilt. The results were her maturing at a rapid rate, a gift from the man she did not deserve. 

The maid gave the smallest of smiles. If her mistress was still able to be snarky, her fever was not going to be the death of her. 

“Very well. Sleep now, and is there anything you would like me to give Zuma when she returns from her task?” 

“Have her run into town and buy Eric a birthday present.” Annika managed as she felt her body grow heavy with the need to sleep. 

‘At least all of this is helping me not think about a certain idiot…’ At long last, oblivion rose up to meet the Lady as she drifted off into a dreamless slumber. Clara stood over her mistress, watching the beautiful woman’s chest gently rise and fall thoughtfully. 

“You do need another husband. I just hope whichever suitor you pick knows what they’re in for.” Without another word she exited the chamber, closing the door carefully behind her. 

* 

Annika opened her eyes thanks to the sound of someone entering her chamber, and could immediately tell her fever had broken. She could also tell that she was as weak as a newborn thanks to the fight her body must’ve given to regain its health. 

“Are you feeling better my Lady?” 

Annika’s teeth were on edge as she slowly sat up, and masked her face with her ‘dullard’ persona. 

“Yes Zuma. Did you get Eric’s birthday present?” 

The maid’s beautiful slim face turned towards a wrapped package on one of the chests in Annika’s room. 

“Yes. I bought him a wooden mahogany sword.” 

Annika didn’t even have to pretend she was displeased in order to banish the woman from her sights. 

“What’s the point? The wood is exquisite but he’s a child that is training. Will he hang it on his chamber wall?” Her tone was rife with sarcasm.

Zuma’s face tightened, and Annika took great pleasure in seeing the woman’s apparent dislike of her. 

“Please return to town and return it before the shops close. Perhaps instead we can get him some proper child sized chain mail. That he could actually use.” Annika waved Zuma from the room. 

As she watched the woman pick up the parcel and make her exit, the Lady noted without an ounce of surprise Zuma clearly headed towards Lord Piereva’s chambers that were in the opposite direction of the castle exit.

Slowly easing herself off the bed, it was then Annika noticed a single rose on her bedside table. 

She picked up the bloom and gently touched her nose to the velvety petals giving it a tentative smell. Smiling slightly at the faint scent, she continued staring down into its perfect beauty as she wrapped her hand around the post of her bed, and drew herself up carefully. 

Clara walked in then, and the corner of her mouth twitched at the sight of her mistress on her feet looking at a flower. 

“This bloom is incredible, I thought the roses were finished for the year.” Annika explained lifting her happy expression to her maid. 

“Aye, they should’ve been. That appeared on your bedside during the lunch hour when Zuma and I were away. Your suitors are very considerate.” 

Annika’s pleasant expression fell at Clara’s words. 

“What do you mean this just appeared? Who the hell was in my chamber?” 

“I don’t know my Lady…” Clara thought to herself for a moment. Her lack of shock or concern would’ve been disturbing to anyone but Annika. “It isn’t like you to sleep through the door opening and closing.” 

Annika felt her heart skip a beat. Who could have entered her chamber without disturbing her?

Fever or not, she couldn’t become sloppy!

‘Especially not with my brother on the same bloody continent.’  Annika reminded herself silently, her trepidation growing in leaps and bounds.

“Find out as discreetly as possible who wasn’t present at lunch.”  The Lady demanded urgently as she sat down on her bed, and tossed the rose back onto the night table. 

Clara wordlessly curtsied and exited the chamber with a small swish of her skirts. 

Annika stood back up, her ire fueling her weakened body. 

She couldn’t let this strange occurrence get in the way. She would take a bath, then she would prepare for the next stage of her plan. 

As she looked at the perfect flower once again, her mind racing with possibilities, her stomach hit the floor when she realized the obvious answer. 

The rose was a message from her brother. Thanks to Zuma, he knew where her chamber was, and if she dared to misbehave, he’d come to her in her sleep. 

‘That has to be it right? Lord Miller is too wrapped up in learning things to come up with anything romantic. Lord Nam is more likely to gift me gold or jewelry, and Lord Ryu… He seems too sensible.’ She shook her head trying to clear her head. Her mind was still sluggish from sleep and sickness. 

‘I mean, it’s not like it’d be Fin… right?’ Annika laughed aloud. 

Kraken was more likely than Fin to bring her a rose at this point. 

The cook had made himself perfectly clear after all. 

*** 

Lord Piereva leaned back on his horse as he listened to his squire inform him of the maid Zuma’s findings as well as the reports from his men. He rode into Austice with only two other Troivack Knights. 

“-the cook knocked out Sir Evans.”

The Earl’s head snapped to his left side, making the Squire involuntarily wince. Lord Piereva backhanded him at the sight of his reaction before speaking. 

“A Troivackian never shows fear.” He growled. He waited a few moments before asking what he had initially wanted to know. 

“How did the Royal Cook knock out Sir Evans?”  The Earl demanded as his squire wiped the blood from his split lip as the Daxarians that walked the streets watched the men with mixed expressions of horror and curiosity. 

“The men say he tapped him twice and he fell over. Sir Evans swears the man had a weapon.” The Squire recited while unconsciously setting his horse slightly further from his master. 

“I see. What was the alleged reason for such an attack?” The Earl followed his squire and sidled up just as close as before the young man had redirected his steed. 

“The other Knights said something about turnips, while Sir Evans said the cook was whining like a bitch about nothing.” 

The Earl grunted and shook his head disapprovingly. As he did so, he suddenly noticed a cat with a snowy white chest and triangle pieces of black fur sitting on the sidewalk in front of them. Two smaller cats that were obviously females flanked him. The squire immediately reset his horse’s course around the feline. 

“See that cat there?” The Earl jerked his chin in the cat’s direction. The animal hadn’t moved an inch as he watched the men pass.

“Y-Yes?” The squire returned, uncertainly. 

“Despite all this traffic in this street, he moves for no one. Sir Evans could use half that cat’s mettle and would already have been promoted several times over.” 

The squire didn’t know how to respond, so he adjusted his sweaty grip on his reins and said nothing. He hoped it was the right decision. 

When no further physical retaliation befell him, he relaxed the tiniest bit as they began to see more impoverished plebes pass them the closer they came to the docks. 

“Where are we to meet Reynolds?” The squire asked after a safe amount of time had passed. 

“In the basement of a tavern around here…” 

As the Earl proceeded to give directions, his mind turned over the news of the cook knocking out one of his men. His eyes squinted, and his jaw set itself unconsciously.

‘Perhaps I should start investigating Helmer’s runt after all.’