Carlisle's Guests

Alexander's regard of the man was scathing. He was aware of the tension in the room and he gloried in it. "Mr. Wylore, is there a problem?" As the man was about to speak, he raised a hand to stop him. "Did I not ask for funds to be allocated or was it not included in the letter?"

He nodded. "It was, Your Majesty…"

"Then, why trouble me, or do you presume I do not already have enough to do?"

"No, of course, Your Majesty. I only intended to confirm."

"Mr. Wylore," He called, sitting forward and clasping his hands together. It was a look to cause fear. "if I need to give my present consent every time, then I suggest you retire soon."

"No Sire, I_ I would nev_ I did not intend_"

Alexander smiled. How greatly he enjoyed to tease, and making people uncomfortable was a joy. "Shall we review the accounts?" It was neither a plea nor askance. Mr. Wylore climbed to him, turned the pages and began to read it to his hearing.

Tapping his feet rhythmically on the floor, Alexander listened to the Solicitor ramble on and on about the funds St. James was demanding for weapons and housing for the soldier he was 'borrowing' from the royal guards. He sat, leaning to the edge, paying little attention to the parchment the man held out. When he was shown the total, all his attention was attained. He collected the parchment.

"Are you certain these accounts are true?"

"Yes, My Lord. I was present when Sir St. James asked for it and also present when the accounts were finalized. Is something wrong?"

A coward St. James was indeed, asking for quite an amount to set up a temporary army. He heaved. Perhaps it was time for the man's retirement.

He heard the doors open but he did not care to look who had come in, eyes still roaming about the parchment. It must be another villager who had travelled far to complain of the harshness of the weather. As though he controlled the seasons. But soon, overlapping footsteps arrived before him.

"Your Majesty," It was Edmund. "the Duke of Carlisle and his guests." He announced and stepped aside.

Carlisle? He had arrived? Alexander raised his eyes and subconsciously, a smile formed in favour of his old friend, his only friend. The Lord of Carlisle who had been a part of his life since he was eight.

The former Duke of Carlisle, driven by greed, had without shame given up his nine-year-old son to Mainecroft Castle, as a testament of allegiance to his father, the former king. His motives were rooted in the pursuit of wealth and the hopes of greater power and closeness to the crown, envisioning his only child as a mere pawn in his quest for more. The dukedom of Carlisle was, and had always been a great duchy, which made Alexander wonder what other greatness the greedy man had wanted.

Charles de Norcrosse - Carlisle - had been given up as a pawn to the then-king, but instead, he became a friend of the heir to the throne. He became a friend to the current king even when they were yet boys. Through the greed of the old man, Alexander had gained a true friend, one who was a confidant, who he could be his true self with, someone who wordlessly embraced his flaws and indulged his every whim, besides Brand.

And the nine-year-old gained what his father always wanted but never could; the friendship of the royal house.

Alexander gave the parchment to Wylore and walked down to his friend. "I suppose I have to condescend to threats to see you, don't I, Carlisle? And to lay eyes on you, an invitation?"

"Your words never move me." He said, standing still. "I came, responding to the content of the note received at Carlisle Crest. And in extension, to see Brand. Is he here yet?"

Alexander tried hard not to laugh or comment too quickly, asking of his guests. Carlisle's guests were ladies. All of them! His curious bone was jabbing at him but he held it in. He breathed in and out deeply, holding his hands together behind him. "Those will be infamous last words, I warn you." Their gaze stayed for a moment, then Carlisle reached and put his arms around him, embracing him.

"I suppose it has been long, has it not?" He said.

So he had noticed? Alexander found himself still smiling, returning the embrace. "I'm glad to see you." He pulled back. "If only you would spare me a smile, all would be forgiven. But your face is as frozen as your manners."

Carlisle's inability to smile was his greatest regret for his friend. It was a lingering shadow in his otherwise illustrious existence. Charles de Nocrosse, known to the world as the Duke of Carlisle, was a man who bore the burden of a fractured soul. He was still haunted by the scars of his tumultuous past and carefully, he concealed his inner turmoil beneath layers of aristocratic veneer, and sure it remained unseen by the scrutinizing eyes of society. While many attributed his solemn demeanour to pride, Alexander understood the deeper truth: he was a man with the soul of a broken boy, one ruined in more ways than one.

Carlisle's smile had been stolen from him by the very person he once trusted implicitly - his father - leaving behind a void that no wealth or status could fill. His sense of humour now lay dormant beneath the weight of past betrayal. Despite his outward protestations, Alexander knew of the longing within Carlisle, even if he swore otherwise; a silent yearning to reclaim the joy that had been stolen from him.

Above all else, Alexander wished to see Carlisle rediscover the ability to smile. He recognized the silent plea buried beneath Carlisle's stoic façade, a desire for healing and redemption that resonated deeply within both men, bound by shared experiences and unspoken understanding.

Alexander returned to sit on his throne, exalting himself. He turned to Wylore and whispered. "Let St. James have all the funds asked for, I order it." He signed the parchment. Maybe with this, better news would come, he thought. Wylore bowed to all presence and quickly strode down the room, vanishing from sight. He turned to Carlisle. "Next time, I will declare your arrest." He said, cupping his chin in his hand and resting the elbow on the chair's arm.

Carlisle eyed him. "Or you could grace Carlisle Crest with your presence."

His smile raised higher. "Now what joy could be derived from that? I'd rather order about, I am King after all." His brow arched. Oh, how easily he could joke and smile with his friend! But he was reaching the limit of patience, he needed to know who his guests were.

Carlisle sighed. "I suppose so. I should send notes more often. But I can never find the time to do so. Running a Duchy is bothersome."

Alexander exploded with laughter. Carlisle could joke? That was a welcome surprise. But his curiosity would not let him explore this newfound side of his friend. He would explore much later. He turned to the ladies standing so quietly behind the man with the newfound humour. "Who are your guests? As beautiful as they are, the times of tributes to Kings are long gone." He noticed how sharply the eyes of the one with the red hair swore at him. feisty, he concluded.

Carlisle moved slightly forward to stand in front of her. "Your Majesty, this is Lady Beth Fitzgerald, her sister, Lady Gwen, and their cousin Lady Lucy Gallagher. I promise them a tour of the Castle grounds."

His lips quivered to comment but he heard himself. Rather, he repeated. "Lady Beth, Lady Gwen and Lady Lucy." The ladies bowed. His eyes moved about them but stayed unwilling on the golden-haired lass. "Beautiful." He murmured, unknowingly and quickly caught himself. "Lovely to meet you all." He said in haste, trying to redeem himself. Then turned to Carlisle. "Who are they?"

"Acquaintances." Alexander's brows rode high of their own accord. "Though, I seek a hand of friendship with Lady Beth." He gestured, pointing to one of the redheads – Lady Beth Fitzgerald.

Good, he thought. "Great!" He uttered and then announced. "Then she I must curry favour with for your sake." He relaxed somewhat relieved Carlisle's interest lay in one of the redheads and not the golden-haired one. "Um Carlisle, for a moment there, I thought you were after her hand in marriage." Carlisle glared. He smiled harder. "Pity." He was enjoying himself and very much so. He turned to the lady "The trip here was good, I suppose?"

She bowed fully. "Yes, Your Majesty. It was nothing but."

He was still smiling and it was one of mischief. "Hmm. How do you find the Castle thus far?" He leaned forward.

Her eyes shone. "It is more than I imagined." She said quietly but he felt her excitement.