Chapter 27: Enquired your marital and betrothal status (2)

I resisted the urge to give Kerrass a kick.

“Well,” she said clearing her throat and leading us just inside the entranceway. There was a servant waiting there with a couple of bowls of water and towels. A second with a plate carrying a bowl of salt as well as the small biscuits that are baked in out part of the world that signify “bread” as part of the ceremony.

“Master Witcher Kerrass I offer you the hospitality of the house. I will admit that I am surprised at the level of culture that courtesy that you display here and am grateful for your praise. Please clean the dust of the road from your hands and face and partake of our food. We pledge to defend you if you are attacked, guard you when you sleep and feed you when you are hungry. Our home is now your home.”

Kerrass nodded, washed his face, dried his hands on the cloth, dipped the “bread” in the salt and took a couple of bites.

“I am grateful for your care lady,” I enjoyed my sisters astonishment. I was well aware of Kerrass' level of knowledge in these areas and he could really pull out the tricks if he saw that they might be useful. “I pledge my sword to your walls and my skills to your use. You welcome me as a guest and tell me that your home is mine but I would defend my home and work to better it. I would do the same here if you permit.”

He bowed again. His face still not twitching.

Emma stood for a moment or two. She had recovered from her astonishment and now looked thoughtful.

Then it was as though she came alive suddenly.

“This is Jasmine.” she gestured at one of the servants. Another face that I did not know. “She will act as your guide and servant while you are here. If you need anything. Anything at all. Please tell her and she will facilitate. In the meantime I must borrow my brother to bring him up to date with circumstances.”

Kerrass nodded.

“I understand,” he said in a less formal tone before turning to the servant. “I think a room, followed by a bath and if there is a tailor nearby as I am lacking in formal clothing at present.” The servant nodded and silently led Kerrass down the hall and up the stairs.

Kerrass caught my eye and winked.

Bastard.

Emma turned back to me with a crooked smile.

“I like him.”

“I thought you would.”

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“I didn't think he would be so cultured. I was looking forward to a bit of rough and ready but as it turns out he's a cultured bit of rough and ready. He's going to cut swathes through the serving girls.” she spoke as though she relished the prospect.

“Oh good,” I managed faintly as Emma linked her arm through mine and led me through to what must now be her study.

“Not just the servants but some of the local nobles wives and daughters as well when they start to turn up.”

“Kerrass will be delighted.”

“I'll bet.”

Emma chuckled. She never giggled which always seemed to set her apart from others.

“Also, might I suggest that you look well.”

“Thank you mother,”

She punched me on the arm.

“And also,” she leant in. “You should look scary more often. It suits you.” Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

“I'll bear that in mind next time I'm trying to chat up a girl. Try and work myself up into a murderous rage before hand. That's sure to get them more interested in me.”

“Don't be boring and don't pretend you don't know what I mean. You look good. Life on the road suits you.”

“Fantastic,”

We entered a room. Not too distant from the entrance of the keep. It was a smallish room that contained a desk, a couple of chairs and although the desk was clear the shelves were stuffed full of notes, scrolls, ledgers and books. I did not doubt that if a piece of information was needed then my sister could lay her hands on it at a moments notice. There was also a fireplace and a window that opened out into an inner courtyard that was being used as a herb garden for the kitchen.

Another woman was sat at a smaller desk in another corner, bent low over a scroll where she was writing with quick and confident strokes.

“Clarice could you give us some privacy?”

The woman looked up at my sisters voice. I had the impression of short blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and startling beauty before she left. She nodded, scooped up a couple of scrolls, her quill and ink-pot and left rapidly.

“A private study, sister dearest?”

“Yes well. A place where I can keep the paperwork. I have another office where I meet with people that's full of empty binders and blank scrolls so that when spies break in looking for something to catch a lead on us then they always go to the wrong place first meaning that we're more likely to catch them.”

“Do you get many spies?”

“Oh yes. King Radovid himself sent many spies to get looks at our ledgers in an attempt to make sure we were paying enough in tax and later to make sure that we weren't holding any liquid capital back from the war effort. He denied it of course and we also know that Dijkstra was not involved, otherwise we might have had to deal with professionals, but the head of intelligence was too busy looking at the bigger picture.”

“You also seem to have developed a secretary as well.”

“Yes well. Part secretary, part maid, part companion.”

“You never needed a maid before.” I said with a grin, she used to loudly protest whenever our parents tried to give her a personal servant declaring loudly and publicly that she could take care of herself.

“As you say,” Emma grinned back. “I never needed one before. To be fair she's astonishingly capable and has helped out much more than is required of a maid. If I'd known how much maids can help I would have got one much sooner.”

I grunted my agreement as I sat in one of the chairs as Emma poured us a drink. She offered to water it down and I nodded. I needed to think and my brain was not working properly yet.

“So who's this Countess that has been writing to me?” She asked out of the blue.

“What?”

“This Countess Ariadne of Angral. She seems quite taken with you and has enquired as to your marital and betrothal status.”

“What?” I said again. I had not missed this. My sister is very clever and likes to distract you from your current train of thought by abruptly changing directions.

I swore a little bit.

“Language,” my sister admonished automatically.

“I thought she might have only been joking.”

“It doesn't seem so. A Countess in her own right rather than through inheritance. Very progressive for that part of the world.” She harrumphed a little disapprovingly. Not at Ariadne's rank but more because she herself who was more intelligent than most of the local lords put together could not inherit anything herself.

“I like her.” Emma said although she was watching me carefully.

“Because that's the most important thing.”

“A big sisters approval is very important in this kind of thing.”

“You understand that she's an ancient vampire right?”

“She did mention.”

“Also a Sorceress.”

“Yes, that too. But on the other hand she is a Countess.”

“Of Angraal. Not that Nilfgaard would recognise that. To them she would be a Baroness at best.”

“Yes but that's still better than some other prospects. You're not getting any younger Frederick.”

“Look who's talking.”

“Pfff,” She waved a hand dismissively, “We're talking about you now.”

“What does mother say?”

“She's left it in my hands. She's lost interest in “worldly things” which includes your marital status and has told me to deal with it and so I am dealing with it. Would it truly be so terrible to marry her?”

“I'm not thinking about that now,”

“No, I suppose not.”

She looked up at the wall.

“Emma?” I said quietly. It was like she was a puppet and that her strings had been cut.

She slumped in her chair and her head fell into her hands and she just shook with the sobs.

Feeling rather embarrassed I got her a cup of water with just a touch of wine in it and found a handkerchief which I passed to her.

“I'm sorry,” she whimpered. “It's just it's been so....” but then the sobs overcame her again.

I pulled my own chair over so that I was sat next to her and just put my arms round her until she was ready to speak. My sister is a strong woman. Much stronger than me but sometimes you just need to let it out. Flame knows this situation has been reversed on more than one occasion with me sobbing my heart out with my sister comforting me.

I'd missed her a great deal and we sat there for a long time until she eventually calmed down and came back to herself.

“I'm sorry,” she said dabbing at the damp patches on my shirt with a handkerchief. “I've got snot all over your shirt.”

“Well it could have been worse.” I summoned a smile up from nowhere in an effort to get one back. “I could have gone to my room to change before talking to you.”

“That's true,” she laughed then. Red eyed, large black bags under her eyes that had been concealed with some clever cosmetics and tear streaked cheeks but at least she was smiling.

She got up and poured herself another cup of wine which she drank at a gulp and then another one which she nursed a little more steadily.

“What happened?” I asked declining another cup for myself having barely touched the first one.

“About which one?”

“Either, both. Lets start with Father though as it happened chronologically.”

Emma nodded and sat back, stretching her legs out in front of her, staring into space.

“I've been thinking about it for a while,” she began, “I've tried to see if there was something that gave it away. If there was something that happened that morning that was different but the truth was that there was nothing. Edmund was back in Oxenfurt, home from...wherever he gets to when he's not here at the castle as well. He had come here to speak with Father about something. In fact he had been and gone several times but that's not unusual when he's short of money and Dad's feeling stubborn about things...”

She trailed off and stared into space for a long time. After a while I realised that I was using some of the interrogation techniques that Kerrass used when speaking to Monster victims and trying to figure out what had happened. I stayed quiet and just let her work it out, using the silence to draw the story out of her.

“So that morning, out of the blue, Father comes down for Breakfast in his hunting clothes and declares that he was going for a hunt. There are always a couple of merchant types and even more minor nobility hanging around asking for favours and various negotiations so a hunt was rapidly organised and off they went. Truth be told there wasn't really anything to think about. There were plenty of other things to worry about at the time, negotiations and so forth, the market turmoil is settling down, steel is cheap again and so on and we just assumed that Dad was just having one of his blow-outs. You know what he gets like,”

I nodded a response even though it wasn't a question.

“Anyway, the message turned up early afternoon. Just after lunch in fact. Dad had fallen from his horse and onto a jutting branch of some kind. Cracked ribs, punctured skin and probably lungs... It sounded like a horrific list of injuries and I thought he would die then and there. We rushed Mirten out there...” she saw my raised eye-brow. “Our new castle surgeon, and we got him home. Mirten isn't too precious about things, he bound him up and did the best that he could but admitted that there were some things going on here that were beyond him. He sent for help from the university and when we asked him how serious it was he told is that the injury was probably fatal.

“We sent out messengers. Mark was quickest as there's a magical relay in use now between Oxenfurt and Tretogor where he's based. He would have been quicker but he refused to use a Mage gate. Edmund arrived and to be fair, was making all the right noises. Sammy was stationed a little further away but he came running in. We had news of you to the north and your professors agreed that that's where you probably were so we sent word out to try and find you. We decided that Frannie would be better off staying where she is though. Her place at court is fragile enough and she has friends there, more friends there than here anyway...”

“And Father would want her to use the sympathy to her advantage.” I guessed, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. I would have sent the message and given her the choice. Emma had the good grace to look a little guilty.

“But yes, Mirten's superiors arrived, confirmed his diagnosis, told him and us that he had been right to call them and told us that they would do their best but that even if he survived then his life-span would be significantly shortened. They advised us to call a Sorcerer for a healing and left with guidance as to Fathers care.”

“I know the answer,” I said, “But I have to ask anyway. Why didn't you hire a Sorcerer?”

She ticked the names off her hand.

“Father first and foremost, Then Mark who swayed Mother to the chorus and Edmund of all people weighed in on the issue. Sammy proved that he's a family and social coward just as much as he is brave on the battlefield and stayed out of it mumbling about “Fathers wishes” leaving me alone and I was forbidden from calling one.”

“Come on Emma. You and I both know that that's never stopped you before.”

“I know but at the same time, he really was so against the idea that I honestly found that I couldn't do it. Anyway, he got worse, then he got better, then he got worse then he got better. We finally heard word that there was news of you and that you would be getting the message imminently but Father was getting better. He even managed to get down to breakfast.

“Oh Freddie, it was like the sun came out in the castle as everyone breathed a sigh of relief as he sat in his favourite chair and started to order people about. Then he fell asleep and Mirten got worried. Father was carried off to his bed again and he's been sinking ever since. You'll see what he's like when you go there and he does want you to go.”

I waved her off. “I'll go and see him. I think I would regret it if I didn't despite any harsh words we've said to each other.”

Emma nodded.

“So Father got worse and then Edmund started to revert to his old ways. To give him credit he had actually been helpful at first after Father's accident, taking up some slack and seeing to some of Father's other duties with proper tact and energy but then.... The maids started to scurry about as though they were afraid again, food would go missing, a groom turned up having plainly been beaten by someone although he wouldn't say who did it, you know the kind of thing.”

I nodded, recognising the symptoms of Edmund's presence in the castle.

“Then one day Father's study was closed and locked. It's normally open so that myself and other people can get in for records and things, even when Fathers away. The only reason for the door to be shut was if Father was in and taking an important meeting. Father was still in his bed, obviously so we opened the door and found...”

she just shrugged.

“He was sat at Dad's desk with his feet up on the corner, for all the world as though he was surveying his new domain. He'd been stabbed in the neck and the blood had run down his chest and onto the floor. We're going to have to...”

She looked as though she was about to burst into tears again but then she swallowed it and carried on.

“We called the Watch who went through everything, questioned everyone and then settled on you as the suspect just as we got word that you were coming into the territory. Mark suggested it was a political thing from that dreadful little man Robart but by then he had the gatehouse closed under his authority and then.... well you know the rest.”

“So there are no other suspects?”

“Oh there are plenty of suspects. Including me for that matter. Edmund had made plenty of jokes about how I was going to be married off quickly and how I had ideas above my station. He already had one of his cronies picked out. I met the man at one point. He visibly dribbled at the prospect of having me to himself.”

She shuddered and I didn't blame her. Edmund's friends had traditionally shared his taste for bullying and although I was no longer worried about such things I could see how Emma would suffer.

“Right,” I said. “I should clean up and pay my respects. Where's Mark and mother?”

Emma Harrumphed.

“Either praying or in the sick-room wringing their hands. Mark's a good man but he can't half wring all the emotion out of something.”

Mark was someone else who disapproved of Emma's lifestyle.

“Careful though. Mother's taken Edmund's death a bit hard.”

“Not a surprise. Losing a child can do wacky things to you. What are we doing about Edmund's death? Sir Robart seemed to be out of ideas and more interested in the politics of the thing than anything else.”

“I don't know. Lets just get through Father and Edmund's internment and then we'll talk about it.”

“That might be too late to find anything,”

“I know but there are only so many things that I can worry about at the moment.”

The answer was not satisfying and we both knew it.

“Right then, Mother.” I leapt to my feet with a pretence of energy.

Emma nodded. “She's fragile so be gentle. If you can talk her into getting some rest I'll up your allowance.”

“So generous of you.”

She threw her hanky at me and I fled.

I got myself cleaned up and had a brief crisis as I had to decide what to wear. On the road I wore the cleanest and most comfortable item of clothing or I would wear whatever I had to until I could next get some cleaning done. I had worn the same shirt for a week at one point in an effort to cut down on things so that I could change into something clean when I got to the end point of a journey. You do what you have to when you're out on the roads but now I was in a quandary. The first problem was that I had developed some musculature since I had last properly been home for any length of time and my old clothes didn't really fit. Doing something too formal or too...dressed up seemed inappropriate. In the end I found a plain shirt that was probably a hand-me-down from one of my elder brothers at some point and a pair of trousers. As for footwear there was nothing to be done but wear my boots. I did manage to give them a quick clean though.

I found my mother in my Father's sick room.

She was sat next to the bed, also wearing a plain black dress which I found odd at first given that father was not yet dead but then I remembered Edmund. She was dressed plainly and her hair was already under a wimple calling to mind the nun that she intended to be. She was reading one of the catechisms of faith aloud to my father. The fact that he would have fiercely objected to this had clearly been forgotten.

She looked up when I entered and for a moment her eyes shone in the candle-lit. I've never figured out why sick-rooms tend to be dark and stuffy but they are and I felt instantly uncomfortable, as though I was twelve and standing before my parents for inspection before a feast.

I'm told that everyone feels like that though when seeing a parent after a long time.

She waved to stay where I was and finished up her prayers giving me time to look around.

My father's rooms hadn't really changed since I last saw them. It was still, relatively sparsely furnished. A comfortable chair next to the window and another one near the fire. There was a small writing desk as well which I knew was reserved for the most private of private letters. There were a couple of pictures on the wall. One was a portrait of a much younger version of my mother. When I was younger it was the painting that told me that my mother had been beautiful. Later when I became more cynical and had met more than one artist I realised that even had my mother been ugly the painting would still have shown a beautiful woman. But even then, the fact that my father kept it in his most private room was comforting to me.

The other picture was a massive hunting tapestry that displayed the castle in it's heyday without all the unsightly peasants hanging around it. To his credit, Father maintained a good relationship with the villagers, craftsmen and farmers around the castle and didn't keep the picture where it could be seen by them but he liked the image of the castle in all it's glory without the wooden scaffolding and signs of more modern life.

There was a prayer stand that was new and I could well imagine Brother Mark using it to keep vigil over Father and a pile of papers that were next to the window chair. Curious I wandered over to have a look and saw that they were various copies of the magazine that has been publishing my public accounts of my adventure with Kerrass. They were obviously well thumbed as well.

Unbidden, a lump rose in my throat.

“He would never admit it but he was proud of you you know?” My mother can move silently when she puts her mind to it.

I grunted trying to swallow the lump. “I notice that the past tense is already creeping in.” It was a bad thing to say and I know it but I was feeling rather bitter at the time. Father had been rather hard on my chosen career path.

Mother did me proud by not flinching.

“Unfortunately, though it is accurate. He will never talk again, even if he wakes. The extraordinary effort needed just to breathe in and out is too much for him really.”

“I know, I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.”

We hugged each other. A mothers comfort traded for a sons strength.

“Was he really proud?” I couldn't help but ask, thirsty for even second hand praise from the man.

Mother nodded. “He liked that you were using your skills to help people. That you were finding out, and using, useful things as well as so obviously living your life rather than being locked away in a library somewhere reading things that other people have already written.”

I nodded and took a juddering breath.

“I'm sorry about Edmund.” I managed.

“Yes, well. I'm sorry that Sir Robart went after you as the chief suspect even though I told him that it was plainly ridiculous and that you didn't care enough to commit such an act, especially as I understand you now have higher prospects?”

“What?”

“Your sister tells me about a Countess, a Countess of a place called Angraal.”

“My sister talks too much.”

She does at that but at the same time I am happy that you are getting some interest.” She gave me a pointed look. “At long last,”

“It's a little odd to say this as I said the same thing to Emma earlier but.... You do know that she's several hundred years old don't you?”

“And a vampire. Yes, your sister did mention. I can't say that I approve of that bit and you should probably be aware that your brother Mark did not take that piece of news well. Nor will he enjoy your companions presence in the keep.”

“Well, he doesn't really live here anymore does he and Emma offered Kerrass hospitality so...”

“Yes but we both know that Emma would give beggars full hospitality if it would annoy Mark.”

“True,” We stood in silence for an uncomfortable minute. “I should ask your opinion on the lady mother. Will I have to come home for a wedding soon or do you intend to reject the offer?”

“In all honesty, it's a little out of my hands. Your sister brought the letters to your father in an effort to cheer him up while there was still a chance of him surviving. When he heard the word “Countess” he told her to proceed that was pretty much the end of things.” She smiled sadly. “Yes, the lady is a Vampire and a Sorceress but other than that she seems like a lady of learning and culture from the letters that I have read. I have written myself although it's your sister that is pursuing things with early negotiations.” She looked at me intently for a moment. “I will be honest Freddie, I would not have given my agreement if your Father had not already given his blessing.”

“And now?”

“You have not begged me to step in the way and so my guess is that you are not completely against the match in the same way that you have for others. Do you want this...creature as your wife?”

I thought about it again. I had put some thought into the prospect when we had first left Angraal all that time ago and things had happened since.

“I don't know,” I said. “She is clever, charming and beautiful in a way that only people who can control magic are beautiful. Even without her magic she will be easy on the eye by now. Having said that she is still a vampire and yes, she does terrify me.”

“A good kind of terrified or a bad kind of terrified,”

I looked at my mother and was shocked to see the humour in her eyes.

“I don't know,” I said.

There was a period of silence as she led me back to the bed and we sat down.

“He really is very proud of you you know?” she said after a while where she had been staring at Father's face.

I grunted something non-committal.

“No really,” she said with a little exasperation. “He was.”

“A shame he never said anything like that to me,”

“That wasn't his way and you know it,”

“There were times that I could have really done with being told that though. Times when I had come back from another denied marriage proposal or after I'd been thrashed by Sammy on the practice fields.”

Mother said nothing. She didn't approve but at the same time it was an old argument and it wasn't going to get solved now.

“What are we doing about Edmund?” I asked suddenly. The question surprised me if I'm honest but as I said it I realised that it had been pressing on my mind.

“Do?” She shook her head as though I had distracted her from more pleasant thoughts.

“About his murder,” I prompted. “You'll forgive me if I have no faith in the proper authorities to sort things out.”

She smirked a little. “What can we do?”

“I have no idea.”

“We can pray.”

“All due respect mother but that isn't really going to bring the killer to justice.”

She sighed and closed her eyes a little.

“Justice?” she asked, “There is no justice here. I'm losing my husband and I have already lost my first born son. There is no justice here, only tragedy. Truth will come, or it won't but I am too tired of the world to want to chase after it now.”

I stared at one of the candles.

“So you really are going to retire to a nunnery?”

She smiled sadly, “Yes, I never fancied the idea of being a Dowager and I was going to anyway. To be honest I wanted to have taken orders by now but...” She shrugged.

“We'll miss you,”

“You could always come and visit.”

“Do they allow that?”

“When it's done properly and you aren't there for some other reason,”

I nodded. “Could you visit us?”

She shrugged.

We stared at Father lying on the bed.

“On the way here I had so much to say to him but now...” I rubbed at my eyes which felt suspiciously hot. “Now I can't think of any of it.”

“Maybe it will occur later,” she said with a smile. “Should I leave the two of you alone so you can talk?”

I thought about it. “Does anything need doing?”

“No, I'll come back before the next time he needs dosing and he won't die just yet.”

I nodded, “You should get some rest mother. We'll call you if anything happens,”

She glared at me, “Not you as well, telling me to get some rest and look after myself.”

“Emma can be awfully persuasive when she puts her mind to it.”

“I should have got that girl married years ago.” It was an old complaint but she left quietly afterwards and I sat in the closer chair.

I sat in silence, unsure as to what to say or do. It was some time before I could even see the fact that he was breathing. The skin on his hands was pale and I guessed that they would be cold to touch. He looked very old, older than I had ever seen him and I realised that it was the absence of life that made it strange. The thoughts behind the eyes. Father was always thinking. You could see it on his face. Always looking for the angle and ways in which he could continue the hustle.

We sat in silence together, after a while I took his hand and gave it a squeeze and thought that he squeezed back but I cannot be certain. I did tell him that I was there and that I loved him which was a truth that I hadn't admitted before but other than it was silent.

I dozed listening to the sounds of his wheezy breathing. Somewhere my medical training told me that his lung had been punctured and that there was some liquid in there. Not enough to do anything about but enough so that you could hear it.

I also spoke to my father, at length, about various things. I'm not going to share them here though as it was rather too private for public consumption. I'm sorry if that offends you.

I don't know how long I was sat there but eventually the door opened to show Brother Mark.

Of all of us, Brother Mark is the one who was designed by nature to be a fighter. He's a huge man, massive frame and enormously strong. It's very possible that he was born in the wrong time and in the wrong place. If he had been born Skelligan he would have been a famous battle-king but instead he was born as my father's second son. Due to the fact that he sits arguing with officials and reading rather than actually doing things (his words, not mine) he has gone a little bit to seed in recent years meaning that his massive frame tends to make him look fat rather than simply huge. He's the kind of man where you always imagine him as being fatter than he is but then you see one of his occasional acts of sudden strength or speed. If you would take any advice from me at all about meeting brother Mark, or Archbishop Mark if you prefer, it is this. When meeting him you need to make a choice which is the gesture you make upon meeting him.

If you bow then you are inviting a blessing which means that he is placing his hand on your head and then he will press down on it (They do this so that the blessing has extra emphasis to you and so that you will remember it. The things that you learn when you gossip with churchmen) at which time you will feel your skull being pushed down into your body and that cracking noise that you can hear is the sound of your spine being compressed.

If you offer your hand to be shaken then he will take that and shake the hand vigorously and squeeze it. This is not a sign of dominance but more that he doesn't know his own strength sometimes.

Finally you can hug him. I'm sure you get the idea.

I love Brother Mark even though we disagree on a number of things and when he came quietly into the room I was overjoyed to see him.

Cautiously we went over to a quieter side of the room at which point we hugged and I was reminded of all those fights where I have been thumped in the ribs.

Every

Single

One.

“It's good to see you,” he rumbled with genuine pleasure. He was wearing what he calls his “family cassock” which is a plain, dark red cassock without other ornamentation. He wears it around the castle so as not to throw his rank around given that technically speaking he could order every one of us to attend upon his every word. He wears it when he wants to be my Brother rather than the Archbishop of Tretogor.

I took that cue and proceeded to tease him.

“Your Grace,” I bowed very low and he cuffed me round the ear. I have no doubt that it was meant affectionately but it did send me staggering into a table.

“Ow,”

“Cheeky sod,” he said grinning before hugging me again.

“Just wish it was under better circumstances,” I said after getting my breath back.

He was solemn instantly. “Indeed, but let us be honest with each other...”

“Oh?”

“My duties keep me in Tretogor now and your calling keeps you in Oxenfurt over the only time where families traditionally spend time together.”

“You are not wrong,” I admitted ruefully.

“And sad though it is, I am glad to see you.”

“And to see you Mark. How've you been?”

“Interesting times Freddie, interesting times. The church no longer has royal support and although we are well spread now there are those who hold us accountable for the sins of our more zealous members.”

“Yes, I remember you telling me that you didn't expect to get beyond Bishop,”

“Well. The Emperor did me a favour there although I would have rather got the rank by any other method. My predecessor hated Nilfgaard and said so loudly and often until he went too far by making the mistake of calling Empress Cirilla a Whorish deviant, monster and harlot. An officer of the Empire heard it and he was encouraged to retire.”

“Rather forcefully I imagine,”

“Indeed, some very pointed words were made,”

“Along with some sharp comments,”

“Delivered by very blunt men. Yes I see you understand what I mean. As I wasn't important enough to have been asked my view on such a matter I ended up being the most senior person that survived the ensuing cull and reorganisation and therefore an Archbishop I now am.”

“You'll be Hierophant yet.”

“Don't joke about such things,” He shuddered comically. “Ambition is it's own cure, seeing the amount of work I have to do now let alone what I would have to do as a Cardinal or Hierophant. Do you know it's been over a month since I last heard a confession? I don't suppose you could be convinced to...”

“Oh no,” I said raising my hands in protest. “I remember what your penance's are like remember,”

Marks face fell. “You can't blame a priest for trying,”

We stood together. “It is good to see you though.” He said.

“Shame about this,” I waved at the bed, “And Edmund. What's happening with that by the way?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you're next in line aren't you? Isn't there some rule or something about churchmen inheriting?”

Mark winced.

“There is but it's complicated as there have been many interpretations of those rules over the years depending on which way the political wind is shifting. Which is why I'm staying out of it.”

“The murder?”

Mark winced again,

“Dreadful business but I wish I was surprised. Shocked, definitely. Upset, yes. But Surprised? No. He led a life of sin and as such it caught up with him I have no doubt. He owed someone too much and then...”

Despite being a clever churchman my brother can be stupid sometimes.

“But he was about to inherit. He could pay off all the debtors he wanted to with Fathers wealth being in his grasp.”

Mark winced. “Money isn't everything to these people though is it?”

I refrained from commenting.

“Anyway. On any list of suspects I must be near the top and there are already rivals circulating for even a whiff of scandal so I'm staying out of it.”

He looked at me sidelong.

“I would have stepped in if they'd actually managed to cart you off though.”

“Reassuring,”

He grinned at me before another thought crossed his mind.

“Listen, while I've got you away from the others as it's really important,”

“That's always a good way to start any kind of conversation.”

He waved the comment off.

“I can understand a scientific interest in these things Frederick, really I do. I can even understand your travelling with a Witcher, despicable Magic using mutant that he is, and I will admit that his accompanying you on this most sad of occasions speaks well of him. I can understand all of these things but please. I beg you, speak to your sister about calling off this marriage contract between you and that... that monster.”

I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head and my anger rise.

“Really?” I hissed, suddenly furious. “Really? that's what you want to talk to me about?” I tasted bile. “Our father lies dying less than ten feet away. Our eldest brother and presumptive heir to the Barony von Coulthard was murdered in our family home by a mystery assailant. This morning I was threatened with arrest, torture and execution for that crime. I know that I am innocent so that means that the killer is still out there and not one of us, not one, seems to care what that's about. Is there a threat out there against the family or was that just about our brother? Is there some secret that you are all trying to keep from me? Are there people plotting against us?”

“Yes but,” he put his arm on my shoulder. Possibly an attempt to try and calm me but much to my later astonishment a lot of the days stresses were now streaming out of me and I shook him off.

“We might be under attack. Our sister is in Nilfgaard and might be in danger, alliance be damned, she's still in a foreign court surrounded by strangers and you're worried about a damn marriage proposal?”

“Freddie, you need to calm down,”

“You are not wrong, but surely you realise how stupid that comment was?”

I felt like I was pleading with him.

“It's not stupid Freddie. She's a monster. A centuries old Blood-sucking creature. You mean to marry her. That means congress, physical congress with a demon of ancient proportions. This would consign your soul to eternal torment. It cannot be allowed, the rest of the church would condemn...”

“Let me stop you there,” I said sharply. “Is this about brotherly concern or how the rest of the church will view it that your brother is marrying a monster.”

“You know that that's not...”

“No, no I don't. Look, here it is. I've travelled a lot and studied this subject. The first thing that I learned was the term monster is not confined to species. Humans, elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes and more than a few churchmen could be called monsters. I've even talked to former monsters that have reformed like a certain Father Jerome that you might have heard of?”

“Yes I've heard of him and I am grateful for the help that he gave you but...”

“No, no buts. I've also met other creatures including trolls, spirits, ghosts and others who are perfectly reasonable members of society and do their best to help out those who live in the same continent that we do. Yes there are creatures who prey on mankind. I am not disputing that for a moment. They prey on us according to their nature. Ariadne is one of those that wants to help and integrate. The church of the Holy Flame had not been founded when she was active and as such she pre-dates it. When I left she was spending time with the local priest to see if the church and its laws were for her. She had yet to make her mind up.”

“Yes but,”

I was tired and too angry to listen.

“Yes but,” I mimicked him “Further to that, it's not my decision. It's mothers decision, she's the one that arranges these things and she has told Emma to deal with it. Emma is working things out and before his accident, father approved. She brings rank that I could never dream of otherwise, prestige, land and wealth as well as a cross border alliance with a minor Dukedom of Kaedwen that brings in new things for our local area. The contract is still being worked out and it's out of my hands. Hell, if Frannie gets into the Empress' ear and becomes a favourite, then we might even have to ask her permission for me to marry before my input is even consulted. One day I may just receive a letter inviting me to my own wedding which will go ahead with or without my presence.”

“But you could object. Emma would listen to you.”

“But I would listen to Emma and if she tells me it's a good idea for the family then I will do what she asks me to as I was taught to put family first from a young age as well you know.”

“But what about you? How do you feel?

“She is intelligent, charming and open-minded. Her physical appearance is variable but I find I don't care that much. She makes me laugh and I can talk to her on a variety of topics. She listens Mark which is more than many humans do. I will admit to liking her. But I will also say that she terrifies me.”

“A sensible reaction.”

“Yes, and here's a point. She knows that, and understands that and has told me that she intends to prove that my fears are without grounds. But in the meantime those negotiations are ongoing. Right here and now, I am here to help support my family and I have bigger things to think about than my potential future.”

Mark gave up.

“You're tired and upset. Who can blame you after all.”

I nodded as his elder brother authority settled over me.

“Go get some rest of your own, we can talk about this later,”

“Something to look forward to,” I commented.

He smiled a little, “Indeed.”

He hugged me again. “But it is good to see you.”

I give him enough credit to believe that he meant it.

I left quietly and went wandering. It turned out that the sun was setting and an immeasurable weariness settled over me.

It was good to be home but at the same time I had changed. I didn't feel as though I fit anymore as though the castle had changed shape like a shirt sometimes shrinks when you wash it. I stomped about restlessly and I found that it was a little time before dinner would be served.

I eventually found Kerrass in the courtyard chatting with Sam. He had all of his tools out in front of him and was doing maintenance, sharpening, cleaning, oiling, all the things that you have to do when you carry weapons on daily basis. Sam was asking questions and the two men were talking companionably. “Talking shop” as Kerrass would later put it.

I hadn't realised that I was looking for him until I saw him. I stomped over.

“Well?” I demanded of Sam,

He looked at me for a long moment, obviously bemused. “Well what?”

“Don't you want to talk to me about my potential betrothal?”

“You're betrothed? Congratulations,” He beamed.

Kerrass raised an eyebrow but otherwise peered intently at a spot on his long knife.

“Not yet, Mark tried to talk me out of it.”

Kerrass coughed carefully away from his weapons,

Sam's forehead creased in thought. “Is she Rich?”

“Yes,”

“Does she have rank?”

“Yes,”

“She prestigious?”

“Pretty prestigious yes,”

He seemed to think about it for a while.

“She pretty?”

“Oh yes,” said Kerrass answering for me.

Sam nodded,

“Does she have a sister?”

“Sam...”

“Then what's the problem?”

“She's a vampire,” Kerrass put in helpfully.

“Oh,” his eyes widened. “Oooohhhh. Yeah, Mark would have a problem with that. Good luck brother mine. His gaze darted from one of us to the other before narrowing slightly. “Anyway, I need to go and change for dinner. You two have the excuse that you've just come in but the rest of us don't.” He leant over to Kerrass.

“Mother keeps a strict table,” he stage whispered. “See you both later.”

Kerrass nodded and I sat next to him.

He looked at me for a long time.

“I like your sister,” he said, a gleam in his eyes.

“Don't,” I groaned,

“I'm just saying that she's an attractive, unmarried lady and...”

“Don't even joke about it. I couldn't take it,”

Kerrass snorted. “How are you coping, pending nuptials aside?”

“Not well. Listen, I need to talk to you,”

Something about the way I said it caught Kerrass' attention and he carefully put his knife down,

“What about,” his eyes glittered.

I took a deep breath.

“I have a contract to offer you,”

Kerrass nodded, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Interesting.”