Chapter 73: Daddy's Girl (Patreon)

King Arnoud arrived to the ball that had been ongoing in the royal carriage. Although he wouldn’t express as much publicly, he harbored a great deal of concern for his daughter. Clara looked very much like his late wife, and even though her demeanor was vastly different, he cherished her more than almost anything in the world. In a way, she was the last keepsake that he truly had of his wife.

The doors to the carriage opened, and one of his many royal knights popped their head in. “Your Majesty,” the knight said deferentially. “Her Highness has requested you meet a partner. She suggests that you share a carriage ride back to the palace. Shall I reject him, or do you wish to speak with this individual?”

The king was surprised at first, then quite wary. His daughter had never expressed very much interest in anyone of the opposite sex. Like himself, she was very duty-oriented. That was a large part of the reason that he could afford to give her unadulterated love—he could trust her to do right.

“I’ll allow it,” the king said decisively, curious more than angry.

The knight nodded, then shut the carriage door. Arnoud waited curiously, eager to see what manner of man had caught his daughter’s eye. There were a great many acclaimed people that were attending this ball tonight, many of them participants of the contest for her hand. He hoped sincerely that it was someone of sufficient ability.

Then, one of the knights opened the carriage door, and his daughter stepped up. Clara was followed by someone that made his brain go blank.

Hans van Brugh climbed aboard the carriage and sat across from him, meeting his eye with a firm gaze.

***

Princess Clara reveled in the tension that she had caused by bringing Hans van Brugh aboard the carriage with her father. She had to admit, one of her favorite pastimes was bringing out the humanity in her father by pranking him. This was one of the most satisfying pranks that she had ever pulled, and it was a herculean effort not to break out in a fit of giggles as Hans sweated beside her. Her father stared at him with the hatred of all the fire in the world, but in front of her, he wouldn’t dare lash out.

Of course, this wasn’t an act entirely for her amusement.

When Hans had approached her, she’d been rather surprised. It was a very bold thing to speak to the daughter of the man that had cut off his hand. She had heard several people denigrating him, and it upset her that not only did the man have to endure the tragedy of losing a hand, he also had to endure the ostracization of the people around him.

But pity wasn’t why Clara was doing this. In truth, she somewhat liked Hans. He was a very handsome man, perhaps one of the most handsome she’d seen. And beyond the superficial, he was quite the blabbermouth. Clara was rather fond of talkative people, because she was incredibly taciturn. She didn’t like to speak at all, and thus was typically accompanied by ladies in waiting that could voice her thoughts on her behalf.

She hoped that that by doing this publicly, Hans would at least be able to remove the stench of ostracization that her father had put over him. Losing a hand was punishment enough; she didn’t wish for him to lose his social life along with it.

Plus… it was quite funny.

“Do you know Hansie, father?” Clara asked as innocently as she could manage, wrapping her arm around his.

A blood vessel burst in the king’s eye. “Hansie?”

“My nickname for him,” she said, turning to look at him. Hans’ jaw was clinched very tightly. “Hansie. Hanny. Hank. Hansome,” she continued. “Please be nice to him. If you harm him… you may as well harm me.”

After dropping that bomb, Clara went silent. She could hear the grinding of her father’s teeth over the wheels of the carriage. All of the veins on his neck were visible. His knuckles had gone white as a sheet as they clenched his knee. His gaze was sharp enough to cut glass.

Tonight was a good night.

***

“What have you done…?” Viviene asked Willem as the carriage with Hans, the king, and the princess rolled away.

Willem swirled his goblet of champagne. “What did I say? If people follow my advice, people get results.”

“No, this is about a lot more than that.” Viviene took a deep breath. “For tonight, at least, we’ve… won. Even if this doesn’t go anywhere, people are going to be taking note of the fact that our son just left this event with the king and his daughter.”

Willem basked in the victory. As he stood there, he heard a voice call out to him from behind.

“Willem,” the newcomer said, and Willem turned his head back to see who was speaking. Duke Baptiste walked up, with Eleanor hanging on his arm. The sight of that did make Willem a little bit annoyed, but there wasn’t much that he could do about it at present.

“We need to have a conversation,” Baptiste said, gesturing off to a secluded portion of the venue. “I believe that you have some good news to hear. Shall I lead on?”

Willem gave a nod.

Baptiste and Eleanor walked away. Willem followed him closely to a table, and then sat down with the pair.

“So, Eleanor has been gathering information,” Baptiste began, his voice a tight whisper.
“She tells me that the next phase of the contest revolves around finding and dealing with the Red Raven.”

“Oh yeah? However did she find that out?” Willem asked, looking at Eleanor who gave him a knowing smile.

“What can I say? She’s simply the best,” he said proudly. “Now, I am a little disappointed that you didn’t come to me immediately, but that’s water under the bridge. I want to tell you that you have the full support of House Dubois.” Baptiste smiled at Willem. “How could I not give that much, after tonight? The fact that you became one of the Six Drakes is one thing, but your performance here indicates that you clearly have a great grasp on politics and manipulation. I believe that you and I can go far.”

“And what exactly does the ‘full support’ of House Dubois mean?” Willem asked.

“It means that I will give you whatever you need to prosper in the events of the future. If you need something, you have but to ask.” Baptiste leaned in. “I’m yours to utilize as you please.”

“Oh…is that right?” Willem looked at Eleanor with a smile. “Quite the offering. I’m looking forward to taking advantage of you.”

It was such a beautiful thing when someone walked into a trap of their own accord. Walked into a trap because of their own arrogance, too; clearly Baptiste thought that he could wrap his fingers around Willem and puppeteer him as he please. The reality of the situation was going to turn out far different than that, however.

The two of them were going to be sure of that.

***

Clara stood outside the gates of the palace. Her father had gone ahead, and now watched from a distance. There were a great many spectators all around. Royal knights, courtiers, servants… it was precisely what she hoped for. A lovely final sendoff, for all to see.

“Thank you for the pleasant… the… you know,” Hans said, clearly rattled. “I admire how composed you are. Like, unshakeable. Very regal. Did you notice I didn’t spill anything tonight? Not one drop. That’s growth. That’s maturity. That’s—uh, coordination, even under pressure. Come to think of it, I don’t think I drank anything, but…”

Clara smiled at him, letting him ramble.

“So… uhh, if you ever need a hand…” he laughed nervously. “I… I hope I made a solid first impression. Rock solid. Like a handshake. A strong, silent, crushing sort of handshake. Not that there was a handshake. Besides, I’m not exactly known for my... open-handedness. Still, I like to think I can handle anything. Everything’s in hand, here.” He laughed as if deliriously, then said, “I’m sorry.”

Clara couldn’t help but laugh a little at his silliness. She gestured, beckoning for him to step closer. When he did, she leaned in to whisper.

“People should stop picking on you now,” she said quietly. “I hope that you’ll have less problems going forward. I’m sorry about what my dad did. I hope this can make up for it a little. Good luck on finding someone!”

At that, Clara leaned back and looked Hans in the eye with a smile. He looked surprised, but beneath that there was an undercurrent of intense gratitude as he realized why she’d done what she did. To part ways, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then, she turned back and walked to where her father waited. It seemed as though his hair would gain at least eight new gray hairs tonight. And she lived for that.

Clara did like Hans, but she knew her role as the Crown Princess of Ravenveld. She needed to carry the kingdom on to greatness, and greatness couldn’t come with the whim of personal emotion. She had to follow the best route, and marriage was only a partnership. Though… Hans was quite a handsome fellow. A shame that he wasn’t a contestant. It’d be nice to wake up to that face every day… well, at least as long as it stayed like that.

But it wasn’t to be, surely.

***

“Your Majesty,” Galahad said, rushing into the king’s study with labored breathing. “You called me about an emergency?” he asked.

“Yes,” the king said. “I need you to prepare a detoxification ritual by morning.”

Galahad looked around the room. He saw three highly potent bottles of alcohol laid out on the King’s desk. One of them was already entirely gone, and the king seemed to have thoroughly worked his way into the second. That much drink would probably kill a normal man, but the king was an aura user, and his constitution was far hardier than most.

“It shall be so,” Galahad said, giving an obsequious bow.

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