Chapter Seven: Fathers and Daughters
1512 Words
Marquis Edward Lione Alpensa
“So, did Arusei send the letter?” The Marquis asked as he placed the floating communicator out of his general way to continue his paperwork.
“No, my lord, the lady has neither written nor-,”
“Neither written nor-,” he paused briefly, choked by his own surprise, “What do you mean the lady has yet to write, let alone send the letter to the imperial palace? Why do you think I sent you there?”
The Marquis’s grip on his pen tightened. He should have known something was up when the lady claimed illness at his insistence that they return to the palace before she went back to school.
Still, she promised to write. Should he trust that?
What choice did he have? The Emperor refused to take his word on the marriage proceedings after her outright rejection of the prince.
By gods! What was he to do with her?
“But my lord, the lady hardly acknowledges my existence; discussions with her are-,”
“Do your job, or I will find another who can do it better. Your excuses are testing my patience. End transmission.”
The green floating crystal lowered itself then slowly lost its shine to deep ebony as it settled in its golden charging crevice.
Swiftly, the Marquis threw the papers near him to the ground then groaned at the deep silence that had followed their rustling fall.
“What the hell Arusei? What the hell is going on with you, child?!”
She never resisted his wishes before? Yet now, when he needed her collaboration more than ever…
More than upset, he worried she knew something he missed; she is, after all, a prodigy. That much he understood, yet why did she not just come out and say the matters that trouble her?
A knock sounded on the door, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yes?”
“It is Constance. I have mail from the imperial family.”
“The imperial..” he frowned, then sighed deeply, “The queen.”
The Queen, more informally known, the third concubine, is the mother to the crown prince and his benefactor.
Typically, the first concubine was granted the title of ‘Queen’ second only to the Empress; however, she, for whatever reason, had bewitched his imperial majesty enough to break traditions.
If the engagement progressed steadily, his connections with the imperial family would have strengthened due to the queen’s favour on him.
Only the gods know where he stands with her now.
“Yes, come in,” he said, straightening his posture.
Not for the butler, but something about receiving imperial mail screamed that one needed to be proper.
But gods, what excuse would he use for Arusei’s behaviour?
The butler walked further into the room then offered the white and gold envelope.
Breaking the golden wax seal was the easiest part. The hardest would be to read its carded information, which held nothing but the harshness stemming from impatience contrary to its crown decorations.
‘Greetings Marquis Edward Lione Alpensa, of the Lione Territory.
Your daughter's antics ill amuse me. I wish to speed the suspense. My husband grows weary as the days pass.
I shall visit your residence tomorrow.
Perhaps in person, I can understand the dynamics.
Bear in mind, Marquis, we have a deal; I hope, with all my heart, the wine I carry with me will be one we drink in celebration of upcoming news rather than the fall of an alliance.
From; Her Royal Highness,
Queen Estelle Novig’
“s**t! s**t!’ he cursed then just as quickly rubbed his face roughly as though trying to wake himself, “Have the coachman ready the horses. I wish to go to the academy.”
“Yes, my lord.” The butler said.
Grabbing his cane, coat and hat, the Marquis sped to the door.
He reasoned that it would be quicker to write the letter with Arusei next to him.
The closer he grew to the main entrance door, the more audible the commotion grew.
“What is going on?” he turned to the butler.
“My apologies, my lord, I do not know.”
As he descended the steps, the image of a woman crouched over, embracing a blonde-haired child, grew cleared.
“Bernadette.” He called loudly as the staff in the vicinity grew grave silent. “Explain.”
The mass of people parted, creating a direct line to where the party called was.
All he could see of the blonde was that her worn-out luggage ill-represented her beauty.
“Bernadette.” He called once more, growing impatient at her refusal to respond, “What is going on here?”
“My lord.” With tears brimming her eyes, she began, “My lord, she has returned to us.”
The Marquis frowned as he tried to piece the information given together when he noticed the bright oceanic blue of her eyes.
The more his gaze stroked the child’s frame, the more his chest felt strained. As though the piece of himself he was confident he lost in the shadows blossomed.
His heart was melting, of that he was certain.
“My lord,” Bernadette whispered with intense emotion, “She is healed.”
“Regina?” the question came off a breathless whisper, but it had to have come out; otherwise, how in the world could his knees give way without prior announcement. “My baby girl.”
The golden yellow of her eyes matched so deeply Muriel's that he had no choice but to widen his arms.
“Papa!!” she screamed before dropping her heavy luggage then crashing her light body into him.
Gods, but she was larger, larger than she had been when she was wailing mercilessly in his arms.
“Oh, my baby…” he embraced her, and the withered image of his deceased wife formed.
The precious moments when she would laugh at his clumsiness in handling a diaper all flooded him.
Sweet memories of when his baby crawled, when she first laughed and when…
Tears pricked his eyes. Unfortunately, this was not how he envisioned their first meeting after the separation, yet he could hardly help himself.
More memories assaulted him.
Of when she had first fainted, and the physicians called.
When she had first noticed the death of her mother.
When he had had to give her away because he could not bear losing the two people he adored most in the world.
“My baby!” he squeezed tighter.
He was wailing now, squeezing tightly what had to be the remainder of his heart.
Her cries grew as audible as his.
But gods…was it not a good day to be alive?
“My baby…”
*
*
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Lady Arusei Evergreen Alpensa
“Now then, Breca, I will get to the point.” I clapped my hands to ease the tense atmosphere, “I need to visit the pilgrim and chariot inn in Demon Ward.”
Demon ward is a division in the capital's outskirts closest to the forbidden forest, where horror tales for noble children stemmed.
“What? Are you-,”
“I am not done yet! Rude?” I rolled my eyes, then proceeded, “I wish to go on Freeday through Sunday, so free your calendar.”
“N-no!”
“No?” I repeated, “Really, even though I can pay more than the commoners who use your services? Are you certain that is what you meant to say?”
“Commo-,” Breca gritted her teeth, “Nelson, damn it!!”
Breca clicked her tongue then took a deep breath.
“Look, your ladyship, Nelson may blab his mouth-,”
“I wonder what would happen if the dean were to find out.”
“I don’t deal with nobles.”
“Well, then you are in luck. Were you not informed that I am half p********e?”
“You say that as though it were a race.”
“It might as well be. It so commonly goes with my name.”
Breca sighed.
“Look, if a commoner child goes missing, that’s a whoopsie on the school’s part, a large settlement isn’t an issue, however a noble child?” she frowned, “That is a national issue!”
“Aw, you are worried about me?”
“That is not..” she cleared her throat, “You know what, sure. I am extremely worried about your safety.”
“Really? how kind.” I smiled.
“Okay then, let me tweak my words a bit, to ease your burden.” I said then strolled to the window of the art room, “if you do not agree to my paid request, then not only will I let the dean know about the lovely little commoner kiosk you have set up, I will also make sure you lose all access to all paint shops in the area.”
“So I ask, are you still concerned about my safety?”
- Writer
