21.02.1624

Mallowston.

MALINA was uncertain what to make of her father’s return. On one hand, she was gladdened to see he was alive, albeit dreadfully haggard. On the other, she loathed him for lusting after the von Grifenburg’s lands and inadvertently costing them theirs. Her anger at the count grew with the knowledge that he was bested by the earl of Faywyn in battle; a boy younger than her by two years and famous in the region for his timid, soft-spoken demeanour.

Her pitiful brother led their father into their supposedly temporary accommodations. The lady never once imagined she would ever find herself inhabiting the guest quarters of her own home, yet there she was sharing bed space with her mother and sister in the cramped room while theirs sat, occupied by hostile strangers.

The guest quarters they occupied were sparsely furnished with a few basic items such as a bed, a chest or a trunk for storing what little personal belongings they were allowed to keep, as well as a small table and chair for eating and writing. The walls of rough-hewn stone were bare and unadorned, and the floors nought but packed earth and stone covered with a layer of straw for some measure of warmth and comfort. Malina never imagined herself living in a place so unbefitting of her status, yet again, there she was.

With her nose scrunched up in disgust at the frightful miasma that wafted off her father’s haggard form, the lady lifted the pail of water at mother’s feet, carrying it out to be changed in an act of manual labour she had never engaged in prior. Despite how easy the maids made it seem, Malina soon realised how terribly exhausting the task could quickly be. Receiving a fresh pail from one of the scullery maids, she made her way back to the room to see her parents locked in a heated argument.

“You would not give my daughter to that horrid creature!” her mother snarled, pointing a threatening finger at her father’s face. “I would not allow it! No, I would not!”

“We don’t have a choice, Annit!” her father shouted back, albeit weakly, evidently still exhausted from the ordeal. Malina paled at her father’s words. Giving me away? She whispered to herself, her eyes widening in dread.

“No! I forbid this!” her mother said, shouting over the count. She turned towards Gilbert, pulling him by the wrist before facing the count again. “Have you seen what that monster did to our boy!” she wailed, caressing Gilbert’s face. “He tortured him for weeks until he broke! That is no sane person! He is a fiend just like his father! A monster!”

“I know!” her father shouted, eyes suddenly watering as he glared up at Lady Annit from his seat. “But we have no choice! The earl would have us stripped of our titles!.. Failing that he would have our heads. For ten years we would be forced to serve as indentured servants under him; I am doing this to protect her! To protect us!”

Malina paled further. “Stripped?” her mother asked, blood draining from her face.

“Yes,” her father sighed, slumping back into his seat. “Stripped. Sending Malina to him to serve as his maidservant is all I could squeeze out of the arrangement; he refused to have Titi serve as his fiance’s companion. She too would have to serve, but thankfully as a personal aide to the future lady. Hopefully, the ancestors turn a good eye on us and somehow Malina earns his goodwill, and maybe even, affection. Otherwise, I know not what awaits us in the future.”

“...I would be prostituted like some common whore to the man who turned my brother into a whimpering fool?” Malina asked, at last breaking the heavy silence. Her eyes shaded red, her cheeks wet with hot tears. “Just so we would be spared from a less damning existence? Is this the beautiful future you promised, Father?”

The count remained silent; his gaze despondent. Malina sniffed as she stared at her father, tossing the pail to the ground and spilling the water it contained across the floor. With a muffled sob, she turned and ran blindly down the hallways. She was not sure where she was going, all she knew was that at that moment she wanted to be alone. Alas, the ancestors were not so kind as to let her have her way even now.

As she burst into a room she ran into a tall, lean figure. Male if one went by the figure’s distinct musculature. Looking up her gaze met a pair of blue-green ones; cold, unfeeling orbs they were. They were beautiful, in a frightening sort of way.

“Malina,” the figure called, snapping her out of her reverie. With a sudden jolt, she realised she stood before the very thing that stole her life away from her. The earl looked down at her, his gaze curious. “Are you lost?” he asked.

Malina stumbled back away from the earl. She glared at him before suddenly realising she was in her father’s study, her feet having carried her there by reflex. “...Ah,” the earl whispered as if coming to a sudden realisation. “Your father just broke the news, didn’t he? You poor thing.”

The girl choked on another sob. The foul creature was mocking her.

“...You monster,” she whispered. The earl smiled. “Go back to your mother,” he said, walking around her to leave the room.

Malina stood there trembling first from fear, then rage. Suddenly, she spun on the heels and grabbed the earl by the arm, pulling him around to face her. “You wish to see me tremble beneath you like a common whore, do you not?” she spat. “Well, come then. My virtue remains intact. I am sure you would feel great pleasure and contentment snatching that from me as well!”

The earl frowned as he was tugged into the room. Malina turned to face him as she unburdened herself of her garments. “Go on,” she said, “take me and let’s be done with it.”

“...On what bed?” the earl asked, his smile playful. Mocking. “You don’t expect a man of my stature to lower myself to fucking a mere maidservant on my study table, do you now? Or were you expecting I push you down unto the floor and sard you like some base serf would a scullery maid? I must say, Malina, you have quite a perverted imagination.”

Malina paled for a moment at the earl’s word before her face reddened with a furious flush. “Do what you must, My Lord,” she replied, cynical. “I care not how you choose to do what debase thing creatures of your kind find great pleasures in!”

The earl guffawed. “Debase thing, she says,” he laughed, walking around her to sit on the table. His eyes remained fixed on her, but oddly enough he seemed to have no interest in her body. He stared at her as a child would a curious trinket they found by the roadside.

“...What’s wrong?” Malina asked, suddenly finding herself uncomfortable being laid bare before the strange man. “Am I not pretty enough for you? Or are you just an impotent little man beneath all that cruelty and sadism?”

The earl shook his head, smiling. “Go to your mother, Malina. I will call for you when I desire your presence.” With that, he rose once more and left the room. This time Malina could not find it in her to call him again. Alone in the study, she found herself bare to the elements as she was the day her mother spawned her; her eyes bloodshot and cheeks wet with fresh tears. Tired.

***

“My Lord,” Lancelot said as his gaze landed upon the duke’s still form where he stood, peeking out the window. “I heard you had returned from Ser Carter and almost couldn’t believe my ears. I am glad to see you’ve returned in good health.

“I am happy to see you are well as well, old friend.” Aden smiled as he turned to face his viscount.

“The trip must have been exhausting, My Lord,” Lancelot said. “How are you doing? And their Majesties? I haven’t been able to meet them yet.”

“We are fine. Vaiu unexpectedly accosted us on our way here, thankfully she proved to be a rather accommodating host. I heard my son placed you in charge of coordinating his new army. How are things going?”

“Oddly enough, very well, My Lord,” Lancelot replied with a tired smile. “Although, they are still rather fresh so a lot of issues keep popping up; overall I would consider them surprisingly competent. A small contingent would be marching out again in a few days. The young lord desires an audience with the Timels to force some concessions out of them.”

“I heard,” the duke said with a nod. “At the moment you need not seek my permission for anything; officially I have not returned and I believe it would be best if the narrative remains as it is.”

“...You would let the earl continue ruling in your stead, My Lord?” Lancelot asked, baffled.

“Yes. This is an opportunity for the boy to grow. He has finally shown some interest in ruling the realm; I would not be so shortsighted as to dissuade him from doing so. Should he require guidance I would be here to provide it. Besides, I have heard much about his accomplishments in my absence and now have a vested interest in seeing some of it for myself.”

“As My Lord wills it, so it shall be,” Lancelot said in agreement.

“…You seem to have no objections towards serving the boy? I expected you would be more resistant due to his age.”

“The young lord has proven his mettle, My Lord,” Lancelot smiled. “I have no objections. Besides, I do owe him my life; had it not been for him I would have been killed the night Sean rebelled. For that alone, I owe him my allegiance.”

Aden nodded. “You should retire for the day, my friend,” he said, turning to resume his watch at the window. “We will discuss at length what to do about the issues at Bycrest come morning.”

“Yes, My Lord,’ Lancelot bowed before turning to leave.