A Modern Mind in Medieval Times

Hohenheim Castle, Aldersthron

As Gerard rested under the covered balcony, the cooling sea breeze brought with it a question that had been plaguing him for a long time.

What legacy was he going to leave behind?

His sons were utter disappointments; both of them. He had spared no expense; found the best tutors money could buy, spent countless hours personally on both, to no avail. Neither possessed foresight or even discipline. They were never going to amount to much, but they were all he had left from his Liora.

His second wife, despite her youth, had turned out to be barren.

His mistress had given him only daughters.

He had pinned his hopes on Arnold and Laira, but the Nobart boy’s sudden emergence had ruined all his meticulous plans. An insignificant frontier noble somehow inconceivably brilliant, just at the wrong time.

Was fate mocking him?

The doors opened.

Laira came through, gliding across the polished floor, looking tired but resplendent in a flowing gown of lilac and cream.

Before he could rise, she inclined her head, loose strands of her bright red hair slipping free.

“I’m sorry I’m late, uncle.”

“No need, Your Highness,” Gerard said, inclining his own head. “Your responsibilities vie endlessly for your time.”

She took a seat beside him. “You don’t need to be so formal in private.”

He nodded, then studied her.

“Have you met Arnold? What do you think of him?”

“Oh yes, I’ve seen him training with the knights.” She pulled the bell cord. “You have raised him well. Sixteen and already a capable warrior. And handsome on top. I’m sure the ladies will be fighting each other for his attention soon.”

“They already are.”

She smiled politely. Nothing more.

He exhaled. The boy stirred nothing within her. What kind of spell had Count Nobart woven?

He would have pressed his case, but he hadn’t found anything damning about the frontier nobleman who suddenly turned out to be a wunderkind. Anything at all.

The doors opened again and liveried servants arrived carrying trays of dishes.

One lifted the lid off the main dish. The air filled with the scent of butter and toasted spices.

“Buttered pheasant,” Gerard spoke reverently. “Your mother favored it.”

“I remember,” she said softly.

They let the conversation die down to enjoy the meal, which was quite delicious.

Gerard stretched after the excellent meal and focused back on his niece.

“I haven’t seen your Spider around.”

“He is traveling. The former Prime Minister’s efforts uncovered more than we expected. Oberstein believes it is more than just petty corruption.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know. We don’t share such information by pigeon.”

“Laira, people have begun haranguing me about your General dismissing their relatives from the Royal Army. Families with long-standing ties. I sympathize with the man’s grief at the loss of his son, but isn’t he going too far?”

“No. We found a lot of vermin there,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Thieves who have been stealing from the Crown. Idiots who shouldn’t be in charge of even a cleaning crew, let alone security of the realm.”

“I understand your reasons, but you haven’t been on the throne for long. There were already many who were not happy to see you coronated. It’s not the time to make enemies and alienate potential allies. Consolidate your power first.”

“That is precisely what I am doing, uncle. Strengthening my forces, by removing the termites eating it from within. As for ties with the nobility, why should I ingratiate myself to those who would weaken my forces? What good is loyalty that demands I let thieves steal from me? However,” she raised a dainty hand in a placating gesture, “I do understand your point and will be very careful with whom I antagonize.”

He narrowed his eyes, not taking them off hers. “So you are going to antagonize people?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “It is inevitable. Doesn’t matter what I do, someone is going to be dissatisfied with me either way.”

Gerard smiled painfully.

She was so smart. If only she had been born his son, or listened to him when it mattered.

“Just be careful. No one’s position is absolute; not even a monarch’s. One day everything seems fine, and then suddenly, nothing is.”

“I know,” she said softly. “Too well.”

He rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder, until she had regained her composure.

“I promise you, uncle. Nanon will survive no matter what comes,” she said, standing up, and left the balcony.

Back in his study, he summoned Arnold.

The boy arrived, posture rigid. The image of Nanoan nobility. Broad shouldered, strong jaw, proper posture and good looks.

Yet, Laira was not moved even a bit.

“Have you spent time with your cousin?” Gerard asked him.

“Some. She is very busy; always moving from one meeting to another. I don’t think she has any time to socialize, uncle.”

“Then make yourself useful,” Gerard snapped. “Help lighten her load. Find some way to spend time with her. Or must I arrange for that for you as well?”

The boy stuttered an apology, that he waved away with a flick of the hand.

Would this one be a disappointment as well?

A knock interrupted his thoughts.

“Enter,” he called out loud.

One of his more trusted men arrived.

“A message for you, Your Grace.”

He signaled by a slight head movement that it was of sensitive nature.

Gerard extended a hand, while dismissing the boy.

Alone in his chambers, he rolled open the parchment. The faint but intoxicating smell of Tuberose filled the air.

His eyes tracked the neatly written script. With each word, his jaw tightened.

She dares.

The parchment did not survive his anger. When he was finished, nothing remained but scraps so small that not a single alphabet could be read.

──────── ⋆✩⋆ ────────

Stormhaven City, Capital, Duchy of Stormhaven

Three days later, the evening air greeted Gerard as the red light of the drowning sun washed over him. The view from the balcony would have been soothing, if not for the reason behind his visit.

Officially, he was there to find out about Jack Nobart. Well, officially, he wasn’t there at all, having come here in secret, like some common thug.

Unofficially... his mood soured to think that he had to respond to such people in any way. He should have... no, there was no point in regretting. What was done was done. There was no going back. All he could do was move forward, to save what he could.

The mansion was quiet, devoid of any servants, save for his few trusted men. His eyes occasionally flickered toward the back entrance of the compound wall, searching for the faintest movement.

Then, a lantern flared and dimmed in a certain pattern; thrice, then once. The door in the wall opened briefly.

In the shadows, someone entered.

He went back inside. One of his men was already there.

“She is here, with another,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Instead of wondering, Gerard silently gestured for him to bring her in.

Her presence announced itself before her footsteps.

Tuberose; faint but alluring.

She entered, sensuality and confidence woven in every step. Wrapped in a black and lilac dress with a plunging neckline.

Linus’s whore, or more accurately, handler.

Oh how he wished he could have found her out before she dug her claws in the idiot and broken her pretty neck.

“Your Grace,” she bowed low, her voice sweet as honey.

He thanked God he was no longer swayed by temptation, which she was eagerly presenting to him.

“Let’s dispense with the pleasantries,” he said curtly. “Why did you invite me here?”

“May we speak privately?” her eyes flickered to the guard.

He dismissed the man with a gesture. He wasn’t so old yet that he couldn’t defend himself from one woman.

When the door clicked behind them, she smiled at him. “I would like your cooperation in a matter.”

“Cooperation?” he almost lost his temper. “After what you did? Both of them were supposed to be dead! You people tricked me!”

“Such a devoted uncle you are,” she approached him with slow, sensual steps, and placed a delicate finger on his chest. “Wanting your nephew dead. Regardless, we need your help.”

“I refuse.”

“Oh, I don’t think you have a choice,” she said languidly, pressing herself against him, her large, soft breasts molding around his thick arm.

“If you refuse, your niece learns how her father truly died,” she hissed.

His voice dropped to a growl. “Threaten me again, and you will not leave this house alive.”

She tittered. “Oh come now, my dear Duke. Surely you know we accounted for that.”

“You think you can turn me into your puppet, like that dolt, you cur?”

“Of course not, Your Grace. I just want our cooperation to continue.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, you will lose everything.”

She peeled herself away from him, and put on her infuriating smile again.

“I have a gift for you, if you will allow me to present it?”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. What could she offer that might change his mind?

He nodded curtly. She went out and came back with someone.

A woman, wearing a veil.

A woman. She thinks to bribe me with a woman? He almost laughed out loud, but as she lifted the veil, his heart almost stopped in its tracks.

Liora

The same sun kissed skin, rosy cheeks. Same full lips and thick eyelashes.

No. It couldn’t be. His wife had been dead for nineteen years.

The bitch pushed the young woman towards him. The shy girl, barely past twenty, didn’t meet his eyes, but by God, she looked almost like his dear wife.

His arms opened to receive her before he realized he had moved.

The girl lifted her eyes, looking at him through her thick lashes, and all of his restraint melted. He cupped her face with a trembling hand.

“It’s as if you have returned,” he whispered.

She took his thick hand in her slender one and kissed it, filling his eyes with tears.

The moment the bitch left the room, he hooked an arm around the girl’s waist and pulled her in close for a hug.

A part of his mind warned that he was playing into the bitch’s hands, but he could not be bothered at the moment, not when his Liora was there, right in front of him.

He let his tears spill, muffling his sobs in the girl’s lustrous hair.

She gently stroked his back, rubbing it in large circles.

His tears shed, he dried his eyes with the back of his hands and looked her in the eyes.

Innocent. Truly innocent.

“What is your name?”

“Elska, my lord.”

“Elska,” he repeated, savoring it. “Such a beautiful name.”

Before he knew it, he had bent down to plant a gentle kiss on her soft lips.

Once, then twice.

She placed a hand on his neck, and parted her lips in invitation.

Gerard found himself powerless to resist her.