Chapter 221 - The Count of Solemn Stone (Patreon)

When I return from corresponding with the young Lady Gloomcrest, I feel oddly happy over the whole affair. She seems like a charming girl from the short back and forth we shared, and I’m now excited for the rest of tonight for reasons other than long-awaited sex with Opalina.

Speaking of, right when I step through the door, Opalina dramatically bursts out of the bathroom. After much trial and error, my lover has properly dolled herself, and the results are so excellent I can scarcely keep my eyes off of her.

Opalina now wears a dark purple crop topped mermaid dress that tastefully covers much, but not all, of her chest. The waistline is snug, showing off that sexy bit of excess her motherly body has, which makes her irresistible. A black belt accentuates her waist even further, looking classy and elegant. Her dress billows out into a mess of frills, and the color washes away from dark purple into striking magenta.

Her typical gloves have changed to accentuate her shoulderless dress better, and their color now matches as well. They start as dark purple before slowly transitioning to magenta as they streak down to her fingers. The witch has forgone her glasses, as they would only distract from the glamorous, purple eyeshadow she expertly applied. Her lips, too, have changed into a purple shade which somehow only makes them seem softer and more inviting than ever before.

Lastly, Opalina’s hair has been curled to a no doubt magical extent. While it’s true her locks are naturally curled on their own, she’s increased both the number of curls and their fluffiness by at least a hundredfold.

I stare at the woman I’ve loved for so long, speechless, and with a frog in my throat. Judging by the smile on Opalina’s lips, this reaction pleases her. “Well then, I won’t ask whether or not you like it, Dear. That seems redundant.”

Shaking off the awe, I pick my jaw up from the floor. “In all the years you’ve been in my life, I’ve never seen you look this stunning before.”

The mature woman blushes despite her age, then laughs into her hand. “I’m glad you enjoy it. I dolled myself up mostly for you, after all.”

Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around Opalina’s waist and pull her to me. She’s a few scant inches taller than I am and still wearing heels, so I have to look up into her eyes that glow with gentle warmness. “I’m honored. ‘Beautiful’ doesn’t do you enough justice, and for that matter, I can’t think of a single word that would.”

Her lips twist into an even more satisfied smile as she basks in my compliment. “You don’t look too bad yourself, my love. Here, let me help.” Opalina pulls her wand out of her cleavage and taps my hair, styling it to be slicked back even nicer. Naturally, she also freshens up my smell. Then, she asks, “By the way, where were you just now? Surely you weren’t talking to Bertrand in the hallway this entire time.”

“Gods no, I’d rather drink poison than share wine with him. I was going to tell you that Abigail contacted me.”

Opaline blinks incredulously before asking, “What?” in a way that makes her sound like she can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.

“She had another one of her pets, a dog, carry messages between us for a little bit.”

“Oh, that makes much more sense.” She sighs as if I had just let her down somehow. Before I can ruminate on it much further, Opalina smiles and steps away from me. “Did she say all that much?”

“No, even in writing, she came off as very shy and nervous. We promised to talk for a while tonight after dinner, assuming you don’t mind me taking an hour or so away from you. I’m interested in getting to know her.”

“Of course, Dear. Nothing would make me happier than for you two to grow closer. Take all the time you need!” Opalina clasps her hands together, overjoyed. Then, a certain smile crops up on her face. A smile I recognize all too well from when she talks about Nikita, or more recently, Snow.

She’s doing it again.

I narrow my eyes at her and cross my arms. “Opal... are you trying to hook me up with the Duke’s daughter?”

Opalina once again blinks. Her face takes on a disappointed expression before she tries hiding it with a blank one. While typically hard to read, I’ve come to learn Opalina’s tells are extremely blatant when it comes to love. “Oh dear me, I would never.” She says in a tone that doesn’t even try to hide her lies.

I rub my temples while sharply inhaling through my nose. “Right, well, let’s circle back to this discussion later. I think we’d best make our way to the dining room by now, don’t you think?”

“Good heavens, you’re right. Let’s get going!” She sighs, relieved to put this aside for the time being.

The beautiful, dressed-up woman offers her hand to me, so I take it, and together we leave the guest suite and vanish into the secret passageway just outside our door. Opalina leads me down the correct path amid the myriad of secret, dark, and branching stone stairways. In no time at all, we emerge in a dusty passageway. I remember being on the first floor. From here, it’s only a short trek to the main dining room.

Opalina stops me just before we enter at the large, eroded, red wooden doorway framed by two stone pillars on both sides. “The man you’ll be meeting now is, in a lot of ways, more important than Duke Gloomcrest. You’ll come to understand that it’s really the Steward who runs most things around here, so I want to brace you to make your best impression.”

“Why warn me ahead of time? Are you expecting there to be trouble?”

Opalina pauses, purses her lips in thought, and carries her chin between her fingers. After a moment, she shakes her head subtly. “No... not trouble per se, but Solomon Drisford- the current Count Drisford, mind you- is very prickly. Really, I can’t even blame the poor man.”

“Oh? Is there someone else in this castle you’re fond of besides Abigail?”

Opalina again pauses in thought as she actively tries to sort out whether she likes this Count Drisford or not. “I suppose,” she decides. “But don’t expect me to let you use me as a crutch if things turn political or you begin talking about business. I may have opened this door for you, but remember, it took me an entire week of convincing this very man to give you a chance. You need to win him over on your own, or he won’t even let you meet with the Duke. Looking to me for guidance will make you seem weak. Dependant.”

“So ultimately, I should assert my dominance, is what you’re saying?” Now I’m getting what all of the play today was leading up to.

The coy old witch smirks as she pecks me on the cheek. “Now you’re getting it, Dear.” She whispers in my ear before pulling away and smiling.

I did find it odd how the Duke hasn’t met with us yet, but it makes much more sense to me that I would have to be screened beforehand. Even though Opalina throws her weight around in this castle like it were her own, it seems her influence doesn’t extend to this specific man.

Very well. Guess I’ve got to go and talk my way into this Count’s good graces. Highly experienced Guild Masters are often required to negotiate with the nobility and even the Royal Family to register incredibly lucrative quests. With that in mind, I should put my best foot forward and treat this as another step I have to ascend on my way to becoming the greatest Guild Master in all the Realms.

I offer Opalina my arm for her to clutch, and she happily presses her breasts against me in return. I hate to use her like this, but with my woman acting like a hot piece of arm candy at my side, I straighten my posture and walk confidently toward the doorway. Hopefully, Opalina makes me look more substantial or makes my entrance more impressive.

The dining room is a beautiful sight, beautiful in a Castle Mourneheart way, that is. Six stone columns stretch down the length of the dark, candle-lit chamber, each of them carved with intricate tableaus of demons and devils. Overhead lies a black, thorned chandelier crafted of a dark and brutal metal, where dozens of wax candles flutter their dim, azure flames. In the center of the room, a long, rectangular dining table rests with a tattered red tablecloth that might have looked fancy long ago. Atop that table is a plethora of exquisitely prepared foods fresh out of the oven, still steaming with heat and sending their fragrant aromas up into the dingy castle air.

On each side of the table sits six black, wooden chairs, and on the opposite ends sit two larger throne-like seats, one of which is occupied by a man who could be mistaken as one of the castle’s many gargoyles. Indeed, he is silent and unmoving as a rock. His slightly aged hands are crossed beneath his pointy, bearded chin. The man looks to be in his early fifties. Not yet terribly wrinkled but his hair and neatly trimmed beard are the color of stone- potentially from stress if I had to make a guess. He wears a dark suit that hangs off his thin, gaunt body, but it somehow only adds to his severity.

On the man’s lapels are two broaches. His left lapel proudly displays a blood-red jewel with the black raven of House Gloomcrest embedded inside, while on his right is pinned a grayish-blue gem with what appears to be, fittingly, a stylized gargoyle. I’ll make the assumption that this is the coat of arms for House Drisford.

The second we enter the room, the man stares at me with the second sharpest set of eyes I’ve ever encountered- less sharp than only my own. I meet his glare with my own, and no one blinks. After a long period of silence, he speaks. His voice is soft, tired, and drawn out in a way that forces everyone to listen closely to his every word. “This is him? Really?” Solomon Drisford does not take his judgmental gaze away from even while talking.

Rather than relying on Opalina to introduce me, I speak up in a loud, commanding tone, “Indeed. I am the Guild Master of the Dewhurst Adventurer’s Guild, here to answer the summons of Duke Gloomcrest.”

“You’re here to answer my summons. Not his.” Finally, Solomon blinks. With his eyes closed, he says, “Opalina, I request you take your dinner with Lady Abigail in her chambers. I will speak with the Guild Master alone.”

Without hesitating, Opalina acquiesces. “Fine, fine. I can’t say I didn’t see this coming, knowing you. I don’t know why I even bothered to dress up, honestly...” The witch sighs and removes herself from my arm. While leaning in to give me a chaste kiss on the cheek, she uses the opportunity to whisper into my ear, saying, “No matter what he says, don’t back down, and don’t lose your cool.”

I make no response to this to appear unaffected. Count Drisford then tests me, asking, “I assume you have no objections to this, Guild Master?”

“None at all,” I step away from Opalina toward the large chair at the end of the table opposite Solomon. “I’m more than capable of discussing business on my own.”

“That remains to be seen.” He replies softly and cynically. “Sit.”

As Opalina exits the dining room, leaving me alone with this immovable wall of a man, I pull out the chair and sit down. My posture is straight, my gaze unbroken, and I’m ready for this mental battle of wills to unfold.