Chapter 77: Happy Wife, Happy Life (Patreon)

Hans sat in a boat in the middle of the lake holding a paddle. This was not quite the way that he expected his day to go, but here he was. Sitting just opposite him was Princess Clara Isabella Eugenia Maria Antonia van Ravenveld. This was not who we expected to be sitting alone with, but here he was. Life worked in mysterious ways.

Yes, alone. There was no one else, not even an attendant. There were guards, true, but they all watched from the shore of the lake.

“I’ve been telling you that I could paddle,” Clara said. “You’re lowering my reputation. You’re making people think that I’m the type of person that would allow a one-handed man to paddle my boat for me.”

“I… I never thought of it like that,” Hans said nervously. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“Clara,” she corrected. “It’s fine. We’re at a stop, anyway.”

Hans looked out at the serenity of the lake. Eventually, he worked up the courage to ask, “So… I just have to ask—why am I here? Not that I mind! I mean, this is lovely. The lake, the breeze, the… overwhelming presence of royalty.”

The princess didn’t say anything immediately. Eventually, she looked at him with a calm gaze. “I’ve become something of an intermediary. Each of the Six Drakes are coming to me, each delivering information piece meal. I wanted to get your advice on something.”

Hans looked thoroughly perplexed. “Why me? I mean—I’ll do my best, obviously. I’ll try. But I’m not sure I’m the kind of person who gets asked for guidance.”

“Who else would I consult but my most staunch advocate?” she teased with a smile.

Despite her teasing, Hans held his head up high. “I merely say what I think. And I think that of everyone that I met, you’re the most suited to take the place of your father. You won’t be an adequate successor. You’ll be his better.”

Clara tilted her head in wonder. “I’ve heard those sorts of things a lot growing up as I did. Somehow, I think that you actually mean it.”

Hans said nothing further.

“You need to keep what I say close to your chest,” Clara said. “It’s about the contest… and the Red Raven.”

Hans nodded, and then listened to all that Clara said. She explained the contents of the contest—Willem had kept this secret from him.

“…separately, the information that the Six Drakes brought is inadequate to find the Red Raven. Placed together, they’re more than enough to lead me to where I need to go,” Clara said. “Rolof and Harmon tell me of their troubles using their magical artifacts to locate the chimera. They speak of some esoteric countermeasures used against them. Raphael and his people speak of prying efforts into Willem’s affairs, but each stops just short of what they need to find. Levente speaks of happenings in the Duke of Dubois’ estate, but nothing is quite certain of yet. And then, Willem himself approaches to surrender information directly to me about his plans and ambitions.”

“What about the other one?” Hans asked curiously. “I mean—not to suggest you forgot anyone. I just—I remember there’s six, right? So, I was just wondering. Not important. You were probably about to say, and I jumped in. Sorry.”

She looked at him like a cute hamster as he rambled. “I’m told that he’s busy being tortured by the Duke of Usman’s daughter,” Clara said.

The silence stretched out.

“Well?” Clara gestured toward him. “I seldom speak this much. It’s time for you to talk. Give me what I asked you for.”

“What do you actually want out of this situation?” Hans asked seriously.

“I want to win,” the princess said without hesitation. “I want to know who won’t screw me over. If I make a move against the Red Raven alone, I have no doubt that I’ll fail. I know my limits. But who can I rely on to help me as much as I help them?”

It didn’t take long for Hans to have an answer. “Willem or Raphael. That’s my assessment,” Hans said with total conviction. “If you want people that can be relied on, there’s only Willem and Raphael. Rolof might be alright, but he’s with Harmon. Harmon’s no good. Levente can’t be trusted, full stop. It’s more than him being from Avaria. He thinks the ends justify the means, and I have little doubt that he’ll use and abuse your trust.”

Clara looked surprised. “You would have no issue if I chose Raphael?”

Hans shook his head. “I think that he would be a good king, maybe even a good husband. He’s lesser than Willem in capability, but superior to him in character. That’s a tradeoff that you need to decide on your own.”

“You think your brother is dishonorable?” Clara asked.

“No, he’s an a—” Hans cut himself off. “He’ll do precisely what he says, to the letter. He’s just very… self-serving, and doesn’t have much in the way of gratitude,” Hans explained. “But once he’s with you… he’ll be with you. Even if it costs him a lot. He said that he made a bet with your father. Either he reforms me… or he loses his hand.”

Clara considered that. “I appreciate your honestly.” She held out a hand. “Now, give me the paddle.”

Hans handed it over silently. Then, Clara began to cut through the water with the implement.

“We’re not going back to shore?” Hans asked.

“Business is done,” Clara said. “I called you here for fun, Hans. Would you like to play a game?”

“Uhh… sure. Not patty-cake, I hope,” he said, holding up his stump.

Clara looked sad. “Don’t joke like that,” she said. “No… this game is very hard. It’s called, ‘where is the king watching from?’ I have no doubt he’s spying from somewhere… but where?” Clara asked, infinitely amused.

***

Baptiste walked into the room to see Eleanor laying underneath the covers. He leaned up against the door frame, staring at her. Eventually, she roused and turned her head to look at him.

“Something the matter?” Eleanor asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m just thinking about the past. I never thought this day would come. A capable woman standing at my side, doing everything that needs to be done on my behalf… this is something that I thought I had been ripped away from me.”

Eleanor tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Baptiste kicked off the door frame and walked into the room. “Everything is happening just as you said it would. If you let them in, they start to swarm. They’re like piranhas there’s smell blood. I can tell that Avaria is getting comfortable. It won’t be long before we can sniff out the Red Raven.”

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. “I would think that this is a novel experience to you.”

“It is. But that’s just the thing.” Baptiste came to hover over the bed. “Once, I thought that this was going to be my life. I thought that I’d have someone like you by my side all the time. Capable. Smart. Subservient. It was the dream for a Duke of Dubois. Then… the king ripped all that away. He married off the love of my life to some lowly baron.”

“Who?” Eleanor asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I moved on. Now, you’re all that I need.” Baptiste sat at the end of the bed. “Marry me.”

Eleanor tried to act appropriately shocked. It wasn’t especially difficult, but most of her shock was flavored with disdain, and she needed to filter that out.

“Last I checked… polygamy wasn’t legal in the Kingdom of Ravenveld, and you’re still married,” Eleanor said carefully.

“There are easy ways to take care of that. I wouldn’t be a proper Duke of Dubois if I couldn’t get rid of an inconvenient spouse. She’s 45. It’s unlikely that she’ll be able to have more children. She’s useless to me.” Baptiste leaned in. “I’m sure that you see the pragmatism in that. That’s why I enjoy you so much.”

“We haven’t known each other for long,” Eleanor pointed out. “Why are you so certain of me?”

“Despite appearances, I’m somewhat superstitious. And the look of you… I believe that you were sent by the goddess to make up for the wrong that I endured in the past.” He reached out and put a hand on her shin. “Besides… you’ve already done so much for me. This is the highest reward that I can offer for your leal service.”

Eleanor gave a serpent’s smile. “Who could decline taking you for themselves, Baptiste?”

***

It was very late at night in the Verdant Spring Guesthouse. Tielman walked into the room, looking around. He spotted Viviene nursing a glass of wine, and she glanced over to look at him. She didn’t say anything, nor did she rush to leave. Tielman walked up quietly and sat in the chair opposite her. For a few moments, no words were exchanged. It was only a silent solidarity of exhaustion between them.

“You’ve been very tense lately,” Tielman eventually broke the silence.

Viviene didn’t say anything immediately, and instead tipped back some more wine. “Why are you still lingering? You’ve gotten your title. You could go home whenever you want. Considering who’s on your border, you probably should.”

“My family is enduring hardship here. That means that I have to, as well. Elsewise, they’re not my family at all,” Tielman said simply.

Viviene didn’t say anything in response.

“If you want me to leave, I’ll go.” He set his hands on the table. “I just want to help you.”

“Willem is hanging around that insufferable Duke Baptiste,” Viviene confessed, turning her one good eye to peer at Tielman. “That’s the reason that I’m on edge. He’s relying on that man, even after I said that he shouldn’t. I don’t want him to have any sway over my life ever again.”

The count thought for a moment. “I don’t think Willem is a poor judge of character.”

“And I am?” Viviene asked pointedly.

The count shook his head. “I think that you merely might be misjudging Willem’s intentions.”

“He refuses to tell me anything, even talk to me.” Viviene swirled her glass around, peering within the burgundy hues. After a few moments of silence, she looked up at Tielman. “I’ve never told you this, but… I always used to be quite grateful to you. You were the reason that I didn’t have to spend the rest of my life as the Duchess of Dubois.”

“You were in line for the title?” Tielman looks confused.

“No, you…” she sighed at his sheer density. “Baptiste was dead set on marrying me. The only thing that stopped that was a stroke of luck. You. Well, that and the whim of the king.”

“You never told me about this.” The count looked concerned.

“Because it never warranted mentioning.” Viviene looked over at her ex-husband. “If I tell you now… I have to ask you to promise not to do anything stupid.”

“What does that mean?”

“You just became a count. It would be a shame if you lost your head not long after flying into a rage,” Viviene implied subtly.

Tielman could tell it was a heavy matter, but didn’t rush to make the promise.

“Just promise me. Promise me that you won’t do anything stupid once I tell you about this. It’s over and done, as far as I’m concerned.” Viviene fixed him in place with her good eye. “It would be a shame to open an old wound.”

The count looked hesitant. Eventually, though, he gave a slow nod. “What is this?”

***

When Willem opened the doors to the Verdant Spring Guesthouse early in the morning, he was very surprised to find that Eleanor was the one that was knocking, not one of the servants. He looked around, before eventually stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

“I know you can’t wait to see me, but this isn’t quite right,” Willem said at once. “Just what are you doing here?”

“We have to talk. The fact is, Avaria is moving much faster than I originally anticipated,” she said in a low voice. “They’ve already sunk their hooks in deep into Baptiste, and the escalation is approaching very soon. I have little doubt that they’re going to attempt to make some major moves with the duke, and soon.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “And… the duke has arranged an engagement party. That was the reason that I was sent here. Passing on an invitation. The duke was especially interested in having Viviene and her ex-husband attend.”

“Oh. Who’s the lucky couple?” Willem raised a brow.

Eleanor only stared without saying anything.

“Oh.” Revelation dawned on Willem’s face. It very quickly shifted to a far fouler expression.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Eleanor said. “The Red Raven is very good at what she does.”

Willem frowned. “In what way am I looking at you?”

“Judgmentally. Disdainfully,” she said.

“I think that you’re projecting,” Willem countered. "I have nothing but the utmost respect for people who never let morals get in the way of luxury. Prospecting for gold is a very noble calling. The gold digger is not a parasite, but a pragmatist; not a vulture, but a virtuoso of social alchemy. She turns charm into capital, and flirtation into financial freedom. If I could… I would."

“Then why do you look like you just smelled rotten milk?”

“Because…” Willem took a deep breath. "…it’s hard to watch a masterpiece walk off the auction block, even if you know you might get a chance to put in another bid later.”

Eleanor went silent. Maybe Willem was imagining things, but he thought she did look a little touched. After a few moments, her face abruptly hardened.

“If you’re flirting with a slave, it’s probably best not to use the auction block metaphor,” Eleanor reminded him. “It may harken back to unpleasant memories.”

“Did it?” Willem grimaced. “Hell, I’m sorry.”

“I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you apologize.” Eleanor crossed her arms. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve never been sold, rest assured.”

“Hopefully you can buy your freedom,” he said.

Eleanor scoffed at his hopefulness. “I just wanted to let you know that that I think we need to have everything ready by the time of this engagement party. Most prominently… aid from the princess.” She looked off to the side. “I think that it’s going to be a very lovely evening. Perhaps not in the way he expects, granted, but nonetheless.”

“Jeez. One minute the guy’s picking out floral arrangements, the next he’ll be picking out a bunk in a prison. That’s one place for a honeymoon, I suppose. Love is unpredictable.”

“I suspect he’ll be choosing an execution block rather than a bunk.” Eleanor laughed at his morbid jokes. “Save your wit for the party, Willem. If Avaria has a hand in it… you’ll need it.”

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