Chapter 99:
Cortège*
Annoyed taps from the tips of her fingers pressed into Charlotte’s crossed arms, reddening her pale skin with a pinkish hue under the cover of her long-sleeved, printed Yursinean gown. She felt restless, and having to wait for her new fiancé to show himself only made her even more so.
“I’m sure His Majesty will be here soon, my lady.” Matilda, an anxious lady-in-waiting, muttered, her hands held tightly in front of her. As soon as Charlotte had been declared Clarence’s fiancé, her life had been a flurry of changes. The staff who had been assigned to her by the queen were all fired, and new, more experienced servants were brought in in their place. Charlotte was also immediately bequeathed a handful of young women who would become her ladies-in-waiting. Every single young woman was hand picked by the queen, and all were from affluent Yursinean families, except for Philomena, who had agreed to stay in the Yursinean capital as a trusted lady-in-waiting for Charlotte. Unfortunately, duties called Philomena to her home country for the next month. And though Sagara and the other candidates remained in the capital, they were already making preparations to soon leave, leaving Charlotte alone with her ladies-in-waiting.
Charlotte found herself disliking most of her ladies-in-waiting, all of them too busy trying to find suitable husbands over doing their tasks to help tease the transition for Charlotte. Yet, the youngest one, Matilda, a young girl of only fourteen, amused Charlotte. Her naivety and lack of court manners were refreshing to Charlotte, so she kept her closer to her side than her other ladies. Matilda reminded her of Olicia, who Charlotte tried not to think about, but oddly found reassurance in the similarities.
“Of course.” Charlotte’s bewitching smile almost fooled the naive young woman, but Charlotte’s firm taps against her crossed arms broke the spell, pushing the anxious young woman to silence.
“Charlotte!” A happy cry came from beside them. Charlotte turned to see her fiancé, his face filled with bliss. Charlotte smiled and blushed before she hurried to Clarence’s side, letting him sweep her in his arms. Charlotte placed a hand on Clarence’s chest, mumbling to him,
“You made me wait for so long. I was beginning to worry.”
Clarence laughed, bringing his beaming face down to Charlotte’s. Matilda blushed wildly as she looked away in embarrassment while Charlotte’s ever-present guard stood to the side, watching closely without a sound.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte. There were pressing matters I had to attend to that could not wait.” Clarence said loud enough to allow everyone in the room to hear holding his forehead with one hand rather theatrically in Charlotte’s eyes as he held her shoulder with another, his fingers gently resting against her thin arm. There was no warmth in his touch.
“I understand.” Charlotte said, looking up to Clarence with a twinkle in her eye, “But I need to speak to you. And I missed you so horribly, I couldn’t stand the thought of waiting until later to see you.”
“Maybe we should speak alone then?” Clarence asked aloud, to which Charlotte shook her head.
“We couldn’t! What would people say?” Charlotte said, looking down as she blushed, her olive-toned skin flushing pink.
“I-I wouldn’t say anything, Your Highness!” Matilda blurted down, curtsying as the attention was brought to her, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but if Your Majesties would like some time alone, I can leave, and I would not say a word to anyone! And if anyone asked, I would tell them I was with you for the entirety of your time out! I promise!”
“We couldn’t possibly put you in that situation though.” Charlotte weakly protested, which caused Matilda to rapidly shake her head,
“No! I’d be honored to help you, my lady! And His Majesty too, of course!”
Clarence turned towards Matilda and bowed lightly, “If it would not be too much of a request, you would have my gratitude.” Clarence’s handsome, youthful smile caused Matilda to blush harder as she rapidly nodded.
“I’m glad to be of help!” Matilda said proudly.
Charlotte looked at her knight, “Please, go with Lady Matilda, and make sure she is safe.” The knight nodded solemnly, then turned to Matilda, who gawked at the large, armored man. Though Matilda had been in close proximity with the giant for a week, she still found him shocking and somewhat menacing. She tried to mutter out a polite refusal, but Charlotte insisted.
Matilda did not have a choice. She followed the knight out of the room without another protest, allowing the door to be closed by the imposing knight, shielding the young lovers from view.
After a minute of silence passed, the engaged couple sighed and released each other. As Charlotte stepped away from Clarence, her arms going back up to cross at her chest, Clarence fiddled with his gloves, running his fingers over the golden button at the wrist. Their once-loving demeanor dissipated quickly, leaving only a chill between them.
“You were back in the dungeon, weren’t you? Were you spending all that time there?” Charlotte asked, punctuating each word with annoyance, her earlier demeanor gone, replaced with a quiet anger, “It’s been a week already, and every day you’re in that dungeon. Please consider our reputations. We’re a newly-engaged couple, and I have to beg you to come and see me. How do you think that makes me look? My family is already expressing concern about it.”
Clarence sighed, rolling his eyes, “That’s why I acted the way I did in front of your servant. A young girl like that will without a doubt run and tell everyone how she allowed us some time alone together. People’s imaginations will do the rest.” Clarence finished the sentence with a hard laugh, his smile full of sarcasm.
“Don’t be so vulgar.” Charlotte chided, turning towards Clarence with a disgusted frown, “And you did not answer my question. What, or who, is in the dungeon? Every time I’ve tried to find out, someone’s blocked my way. Yet you’ve gone down there every day. I deserve an answer from you.”
Clarence sighed, dropping his hands by his side, “I told you already. My men found a witness who saw who attacked me at our engagement party, and I am questioning them for important information.” The prince said fluidly, as if he had practiced the phrase time and time again.
“Then why don’t you let the dungeon workers handle it? I’m sure they will do a much better job at getting information than you can.” Charlotte’s expression was cold, and her annoyance dripped through her tone with every word she spoke.
“I’d rather question them myself.” Clarence said, his patience thinning as his eyes narrowed.
“Why?” Charlotte snapped, her irritation growing, “Why do you have to go down there so much? Don’t you hear your noblemen in the court? They are beginning to make comments about you spending all of your time in the dungeon. They are beginning to whisper that you’re not in the dungeon at all. They are saying that you are actually visiting a woman during that time!”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Clarence laughed sharply, shaking his head in amusement, “What a silly rumor.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes.
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“I don’t mind.” Charlotte said, returning Clarence’s gentle smile, “I’d like to speak to this prisoner anyway.”
Clarence continued to smile, but his face hardened, “Why do you want to go to the dungeon so badly?”
“I already told you, darling.” Charlotte said sweetly, “Once I see the prisoner for myself, I can help stop the unseemly rumors that you are seeing another woman. A woman your cousin was wooing, no less.”
Clarence’s body involuntarily stiffened at Charlotte’s words, and her fake smile immediately dropped to a deep frown as she walked up to Clarence, looking him directly in the eye, “Answer me honestly, Clarence. Is there another woman? Is the woman you were seen with at our engagement party the woman you are seeing? The one your cousin brought as a guest?”
“There is no other woman.” Clarence said directly, glaring down at Charlotte.
Charlotte paused, looking into her fiancé’s handsome, flustered face. She wanted to believe him, but there was something in his expression that told Charlotte he was lying. Maybe it was the small twitch of his brow, or strain of his lips being pressed together, or the expression of pain, confusion, and longing that flashed in his eye for only a moment.
Charlotte’s face dropped, and she turned away from Clarence, her fists tightening at her side, “I can’t stop you if there is another woman, but please consider my reputation. If you must see someone else, please be more discreet about it.”
Clarence sighed, reaching his hand out to grab Charlotte’s arm, “Charlotte, I already told you I’m not seeing another woman. I am questioning a witness.”
Charlotte looked down at Clarence’s hand, wrapped around her arm. She was incensed, and she yanked her arm out of his grip, “Call it what you want, but keep your little tryst in the shadows. I have a reputation to uphold, as do you.”
“There is no tryst!” Clarence insisted, but Charlotte refused to listen any longer. She nodded dismissively at the flustered prince, a sign she was leaving, then quickly walked to the door, “I am only questioning a prisoner!” It was one of the few times Charlotte had seen the prince so flustered. So much so that Clarence felt the patience he had fostered for Charlotte gradually thinning.
Charlotte opened the door as she adjusted her facial expression, returning her gaze forward as she stepped out of the room without saying a word, letting Clarence’s feeble attempts to convince Charlotte and himself echo back at him disparagingly as the door was swiftly closed behind her disappearing figure.
The prince did not hear the door close as he walked to the front of the room, moving towards the tall window as he stared out towards the direction of the dungeon, his eyes falling on the ground as he said in a low mutter, “He’s a prisoner.” Clarence whispered to himself angrily, “He tried to kill me repeatedly. I’m just getting revenge for everything he put me through. Nothing more.”
Clarence could feel a gnawing anger bubbling up within him as he turned away from the window, feeling his fingers tremble as his anger bubbled over. He had to let the anger out before it engulfed him. With a guttural scream, Clarence yanked a nearby chair towards him and picked it up with relative ease. Without looking, Clarence could not stop himself before he threw the armchair with all of his might, slamming it against the wall.
The back of the chair split in half as it came into contact with the wall, leaving some chips of paint to fall from the sizable dent that had been made in the wall next to the window, facing the direction of the dungeon, the place Clarence found himself unconsciously drawn to.
Clarence watched the aftermath, but it did little to quell his raging anger. Staring at the sharp, wooden shards on the ground and lifeless velvet fabric, Clarence felt his anger only grow again and again, and he felt the urge to grab another object. His fingers dug into his palms, leaving deep, crescent marks in the pads of his hand as he closed his eyes, his breath frantic and unsteady.
It’s all his fault. Beads of sweat lined Clarence’s brow as he pushed the stray hairs on his forehead back with his hand, his eyes burning blue. Using that elven witchcraft of his… who is he trying to fool? Clarence found himself laughing as he stared at the marks in his palm. Just wait, Silas, your true suffering is yet to come.
…
Only some hours had passed since his last meeting with the prince. The dungeon torches flickered as Silas sat back, his arms hanging at his sides as the young physician he had come to know, Earnest, helped change his dirtied shirt into a clean, cotton white shirt. While it was standard for most prisoners, Silas could not help but find it odd the prince allowed the physicians to treat him so carefully.
“When are they planning to kill me?” Silas asked pointedly to the young physician, his eyes dark as he looked at the other man, feeling the physician’s covered hands shaking with some nervousness.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Earnest said, looking down at Silas’s various bruises and cuts, “But I can at least make sure you’re comfortable and not in pain.”
“Silence, prisoner!” The guard, standing at attention next to the open door, shouted at Silas. Silas did not even flinch at the burly man’s booming voice, which echoed throughout the small room, but Earnest frowned painfully.
“Please don’t shout.” Earnest said, annoyed, as he furrowed his eyebrows, “I will not be able to treat him if you scream and shout.”
“Just do your job, doctor.” The guard sneered, this time his voice much quieter.
While Earnest reached into his small pouch at his waist, Silas looked at the young human man with a curious expression.
“You don’t seem surprised to see an elf here.” Silas noted, making the young man jump. Earnest weakly laughed, anxious.
“No. I’ve met other elves like you.”
“Like me?” Silas asked, his curiosity piqued through the throbbing pain of his injuries.
Before he could stop himself, Earnest blurted out with a frown, “I-I treated an elf before that looked like you…” his words eventually trailed off as he stared at Silas’s expression, his eyes falling on the young man with a dangerous glow.
“The elf that escaped?” Silas asked quietly, already knowing the answer to his words.
Earnest felt like a fool, remembering the words the physician had said to him before. ‘Keep the words you say to any patient in the palace at a minimum. Even the smallest exchange of information can devastate your reputation. And a poor reputation can end your life.’ He thought of those words as he swallowed nervously, feeling some guilt return at the thought of the elf’s future in the palace as he responded with some hesitation. “Yes, it was. I treated her while she was in the palace.”
Earnest felt his hands trembling as he treated the elf. He was afraid, not of elves, but of the elves that had been captured and brought to the palace. They were treated like feral animals, fighting to survive in a place they were unwelcome, vilified and hated by their past countrymen. In the Vartien Kingdom, elves were never paid any mind, but they were in fact treated differently than the humans in the kingdom, particularly the elven refugees.
As he worked at the Vartien temple near the Yursear-Vartien border, he treated all of his patients indiscriminately. He saw many injured merchants and elves, both crossing the border with clothes soaked in blood, carrying what little they could hold on their backs and in their carriages, what little had survived the violent pillages near the border during the war.
Staring at the elf, his skin battered in bruises and blood, he felt he was only putting a bandage on a broken limb. The prince had a special vendetta against these elves, against this particular elf. His attitude was hot and cold, confusing Earnest on how he should proceed. He would always do his duty as a physician, but how far would he have to go to keep this elf alive? And how far was he willing to go before it broke his oath as a physician to save a tortured man, prolonging his pain and suffering until the prince is satisfied?
Silas stared at the young physician before he said, “Thank you. You saved my mother.”
Earnest, who was wrapping a fresh bandage around Silas’s left arm, paused, feeling his shaking fingers still for a moment as he heard the elf’s sincere words.
Tears sprung to the young man’s eyes, stinging his eyes as they reddened. Earnest was so surprised by the beaten man’s sincerity, considering he was a prisoner, trapped like a caged rat, waiting in agony for death. Yet in spite of that, the man thanked him, someone who was only doing as he was told, then and now. The tears ran down the young man’s face, dripping soundlessly as he finished knotting the elf’s bandage, stepping back in his kneeling position as he rubbed his eye with his sleeve. Looking at the crying young man, Silas could not help but notice how young he was, most likely around his siblings’ ages. With his eyes so red, he looked weak, tired of the position he was forced into.
It was a reminder that everyone had been subjected to various horrors during the war, including horrors inflicted on those of their own kind, of their own race.
Knowing he would soon die, Silas felt his lips loosen ever so lightly as he said in a quiet tone, “My name is Silas, by the way.”
Wiping his eyes with his clean handkerchief, Earnest slowed his movements for a moment, unable to hide his surprise as his mouth fell open. His bottom lip trembled as he attempted to hold back his tears.
“I’m Earnest. Marquis Earnest Belland.”
Silas sighed lightly, his eyes listless, “You’re not from the Yursear Kingdom, are you, Earnest?”
Again, Silas’s sudden question caught the young marquis off guard. He had to pause as he looked at Silas, who stared back at him with a steady expression.
“Are you done treating the prisoner?” The guard at the door snapped, breaking the silent bond that was growing.
“Almost.” Earnest said, looking down at his medical pouch. He touched a vial of a pain-relieving medication, thinking for a moment as he grabbed the small, clear vial as he held it in his hand, preparing to use it on the elf he came to know, Silas.
“Hurry up.” The guard snapped again.
“I will only be just another moment.” Earnest said as he opened the vial and said to Silas, “Take this medication. It should help reduce the pain and inflammation of your injuries.”
Silas nodded as he obediently opened his mouth, allowing the young doctor to tilt the vial and pour the bitter-smelling, green liquid onto his tongue. Expressionlessly, Silas took the medicine and swallowed it down with a frown, his eyes regaining some of their color.
After the vial had been cleared, Earnest stood up, dusting off his tailored pants as he stared back at Silas, who looked up at him with a placid frown. He nodded towards Silas, finding it hard to say a proper goodbye to the elf as he turned on his heel and followed the guard out, allowing the heavy cell door behind him to close with a resounding creak.
…
A blade rested at Adora’s throat, causing her to fall still as the muscular, yet eerily thin, elf in the carriage stared at her with burning green eyes. Unlike Silas’s eyes, they were full of caution, distrust. They were aged eyes, eyes that had seen horrors Adora would never have to face in her lifetime.
“Maeir, stop!” There was a familiar voice coming from inside the carriage before the knife at Adora’s throat was suddenly retracted. The hand that had been holding it was pulled back swiftly, retracting the cold, dangerous feeling that had emenated in the air.
“You-” Adora mumbled out in a weak tone, her eyes falling on the occupants inside. As the carriage slowed to a stop, Adora looked first at the sickly Maeir, then the two identical young adults, “Your Silas’s family. You are his mother, and his siblings.” She could not help but say, her words falling out of her mouth before she could catch them.
Cirdan and Maeir stared warily at Adora, as if thinking as Aurelia’s face gradually changed. “Then, you’re Adora!” Aurelia shouted, jumping to her feet with some energy as she added, “Silas told us all about you before-” Aurelia’s bright face suddenly dropped, and her words hung in the air like a heavy mist.
Adora’s growing smile quickly fell, a dreadful fear enveloping her as she looked over at Eva, who sat in her seat with her arms crossed. Eva’s usually pristine appearance was ragged, her blond hair flimsily pulled back, and her makeup gone, revealing small hints of her age as the wrinkles grew in her brow, full of fatigue. Her dress was wrinkled and faded. She had begun to match in appearance with her companions.
“We will discuss it later, Adora. For now, please either enter the carriage or get out, so we can enter the capital. All of us are very tired and-”
“Where!” Adora shouted, refusing to let Eva finish speaking as she shouted, “Where is he?!” Adora’s eyes turned to Eva, a fire growing in her eyes as she glared at Eva, who began to lose her patience.
“Later, Adora.” Eva said slowly, giving Adora a meaningful glare.
“I asked you where Silas is!” Adora shouted back, her hands gripping the sides of the carriage door frame with a shaken expression.
“Driver!” Eva shouted, smacking the roof with her hand. With a crack of a whip, the carriage jolted forward, and Eva turned her icy gaze back to Adora, “Either come in and sit down or get out. I’m too tired, hungry, and frustrated to coddle you right now, and I would like to get our friends some much needed accommodations.”
The carriage jolted again, rocking Adora side to side, causing her to almost lose her footing more than once. She squeezed the sides of the door, the open door swinging wildly behind her with reckless abandon. With a deep breath, trying to hide the pain in her voice, Adora weakly asked, her eyes growing red, “Is he alive?”
Eva raised a hand, bringing it to her wrinkled forehead, “Probably.” Eva then gestured to an open seat beside her, “Please, sit. And close the door behind you.”
Adora moved to step into the carriage further, but looked back outside to see her father quickly approaching the carriage. Without missing a step, he ran forward and jumped, grabbing the upper railing of the carriage. With relative ease, he stood up straight, meeting his daughter’s gaze as he stood on the footstand of the carriage with Adora, “Sorry, I saw you were leaving, and I did not want to miss greeting you.” Barbaras smiled as his eyes scanned the carriage, making careful eye contact with the occupants. His eyes flashed, noticing the missing member, but did not say a word about it. Instead, he gestured to Adora towards the open carriage seats, “Adora, before we introduce ourselves, why don’t we sit down? It’s dangerous to hang out of the carriage in the busy streets.”
Adora nodded, wordlessly entering the carriage and sitting. Barbaras stepped inside after Adora, closing the carriage door with some force behind him before he sat down next to his daughter, resting his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry for our poor introduction.” Barbaras said with a calm smile, “This is my daughter, Adora. And my name is Barbaras. You must be the family we have heard so much about.” His voice was gentle, full of welcoming that Maeir and the children had not heard in years.
Maeir was the first to speak, her fatigue dragging into her voice as she sat, vigilant towards the new occupants, even if they were fellow elves. “You must be native Faelfierian elves.” She began, recognizing their appearance with a careful eye.
Barbaras nodded, “Yes, we were very fortunate to be living in such a welcoming kingdom when the war broke out. I am a physician in the Faelfierian army. My daughter, Adora, is a colonel. She worked closely with your son for many years.” Barabas paused before he added, “He is captain in the army. He is very respected by all of his peers and subordinates.”
Before Maeir could speak again, Aurelia spoke again, “Silas was a captain? Wow!” Her eyes glowed in admiration for her big brother.
“Aurelia.” Maeir spoke, rubbing the inner corners of her eyes as she sighed. “Let’s save this discussion for later.” Her voice was hoarse, full of exhaustion and dejection. She had gained her oldest son back for only a moment, like a fleeting touch. Her mood had yet to settle, and she was unable to properly process the variety of emotions she had felt today. While the twins had some energy, Maeir had no energy to spare. As a mother, she found herself lost once again, losing her son once again, just like when she had lost her husband, Clifford.
She had almost wished she had not seen her son at all, since the pain of losing him all over again was almost unbearable to her.
“Absolutely. You all should rest.” Barbaras said warmly, “Though I would like to look over your injuries before you do, if that’s alright?”
Maeir glanced over at her two children, who, though now grown into young adults at the tender age of eighteen, still seemed like wonder-eyed children to her fatigued eyes.
“I suppose that would be alright.” Maeir mumbled roughly as she closed her eyes.
Hearing the carriage gradually slow, Eva nodded as she slowly stood, pushing back the wispy strands of her hair as she looked towards the door, “We have reached our accommodations. Maeir, a room has been arranged for you and Cirdan and Aurelia. One of my servants will accompany you inside to take you to your room. Barbaras, if you could be so kind as to follow them in.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“Then I will borrow your daughter for a short time.” Eva turned a heavy stare to Adora, “Follow me if you want answers now.”
Adora nodded, her eyes flickering with a horrible hunger to know where Silas was, and what had become of her closest friend.
…
Cortège = a person’s entourage or retinue, or a solemn procession, especially for a funeral per google.
Here we are… chapter 99! While we will not be doing a chapter 100 special, I have completed a drawing of Clare to share next week~! You can see the sketch and my lovely new drawing of Meredith on my kofi! Or here’s a better pic of Meredith on my twitter…
I can’t remember if we shared our teasers or not, but you can vote for our future novel project here. I have an idea of what we’re doing already (Misted Winds is 64 pages now!), but your feedback is always nice 😀 Hunny and I are working on another side project, so for now that’s been taking over, though I can promise I have a mixture of BG, BL, and GL projects coming in the future… novels, games, and webtoons. You’ll never know what to expect, but thank you all so much for reading, and let us know what you think of Silas’s “elven witchcraft”! ahaha
