Contract

*** 

(Seven years ago)

Nicholas wiped his forehead free from sweat as he gradually straightened his back. It has been a long day and he was satisfied to see the growing wheat crops thriving. If this pace would maintain its route, he would have another bountiful harvest come fall. The sun has already descended south, indicating another day that passed since he took over as the master of the land in front of him.

It was a year ago when he saved an old man from a traitorous death. That old man who was actually the ruler of the country. If the King stayed beside the stream for an indefinite time, he would have contracted a nasty cold. Something you would not like to have when you already had an injured head.

The old King gifted him a barony in the lands of Zethar, south of Clevon. Originally, the old man wanted to give him a duchy, however, it was too much for someone like him who was only a farmer toiling in other people's fields. He chose to have an average patch of land, fertile, where he could grow crops whenever he sees fit. 

Even if he insisted on having an ordinary gift, the King gave him a generous land and a title anyway.

"My lord, you have a visitor," He couldn't get used to that title. No matter how many times he ordered Lawrence to call him by his first name, the man wouldn't give an inch. 

Lawrence is the middle age butler of the manor. He was stubborn like that of a mule, and to top it off, he worked in the manor house for many decades. It made Nicholas reluctant to order him when he's been around longer than him in the Barony.

Nicholas glances down at his attire, "Do you think it's acceptable to face the callers in this garb, Lawrence?" He curiously asked. 

He might be running the manor for a year now, but he could not get on board with the nobility's etiquette. Every article of clothing irritates him to no end. The noble might have a good quality of clothes, nevertheless, they don't have the comfort to go along with it. Noble vestments stifle him.

Lawrence gave his dusty trouser and sweaty loose tunic a perusing gaze. The side of his mouth twitched a little when the Butler did his hand approval sign.

The loyal servant touched the tip of his right thumb and forefinger, forming a small circle, while the rest of the fingers on his right hand flicked up. It's an approval sign that didn't fail to amuse Nicholas from the start.

"You are good to go, my lord. The visitors already know your preferences and the way you live. They are in the drawing room already served with refreshments," The butler replied.

He frowned a little. Visitors that knew him? He doubt the words. The barony, with him at the helm, is a year old now. In that duration, he didn't have any visitors beside the tenants of his land. Sometimes, some of the village people came to visit him to discuss their planned ventures in the barony, merchants and the like. It was never a social call from the nobility. One can't blame him for being skeptical about the whole thing, and to consider Lawrence's expression, the visitors must have been someone important. He looks quite severe at the moment, severe formality.

"I guess I'll have to meet them," He gave Lawrence a nod and went straight to the drawing room. The manor house is only a handful of minutes away from the field he is currently working.

The cool shade provided by the tall oak trees on his path was refreshing. Nothing could beat a cool shade after a long day at the field. A cool drink would also be appreciated. Now that he thinks about it, he really needs to find a cook. A cook that can fill his stomach with sumptuous meals. Not necessarily sumptuous but something that could take his exhaustion away and could motivate him to work harder. Knowing that he'll have good food to look forward to after a grueling day in the field, it would be great.

The moment Nicholas stepped inside the drawing room, his jaws fell to the floor. He is not exactly someone who gave his emotions away in a flippant manner, however, seeing the bunch of people inside his drawing room is something jaw dropping. 

"Is it a Royal custom to visit unannounced?" He asked, clearly caught off guard. Again, just like a year ago, a cold metal touches the length of his neck. He glared at the still annoying Knight he encountered a year ago.

"How dare you disrespect the King?" The Knight said in a cold tone. Nicholas noticed a change about him. He got a blank expression unlike before when would wear his emotions up his sleeves.

The old man, the King of Clevon, chortles in delight. While the glowing man beside him just gave Nicholas a short nod. Archduke Clermont still looks more menacing than the King himself.

There's about three more additional people in their entourage. The valet with a sharp hearing, and two more Knights.

"Ho, I bring you the last piece of your reward, Nicholas," He signaled at his valet and the servant was quick enough to procure a paper somewhere from the small case he was carrying. The valet then gave it to him, not even waiting for him to be seated. Come to think of it, he never knew the name of the valet.

He looked at the paper in his hand. It was nothing much, only a handful of writings. That is, if you are not going to read the heading. His hand shook with nerves.

"Sign it," The sudden interference of Archduke Clermont made his neck snapped up in his direction. It was a command but laced with a tinge of hopefulness in it. He also glanced at the King and saw him nod. This might look like a good contract confirmed by the Archduke himself, but with the sword of the Knight on his neck it looks more like a contract for slavery.

"McKenna," The Archduke signaled the man, and the sword was sheathed.

He glanced at the paper in his hands once more. The words emblazoned at the top of it made his usually stable hand shake in nervousness.

The crest of Clevon was printed at the top followed by words he never thought he'd encounter at his early age. He is not ready for this.

"Sign it," The old man said with a cunning smile on his lips, echoing the Archduke's words. Nicholas' eyes turn to slits as he contemplates the choices he had. He didn't have much. 

He turned to the Archduke and back at the document. 

Astrid Lumiere Clermont. 

What is the catch here? What is he getting himself into? Does this particular woman have any relations with the Archduke?

Marriage Contract

Those were the words emblazoned at the top of the document with Clevon's golden crest on it. He was nothing but a mere farmer. A commoner who lives a life with nothing but work to fill his days. Yet, the name written on the contract was a name he heard an awful lot from the commoners who found a little reprieve from chattering with one another during their vacant time. 

Astrid Lumiere Clermont. 

If he was not mistaken, the name written on the document he was currently holding was known to be the most beautiful woman in the entirety of Clevon and the whole continent. The commoners might not have seen the lady, including him, nevertheless, words travel fast and he heard how grand the woman is, and that woman's name happens to be written boldly on the paper he was currently holding.

"It seems like you have heard of my daughter, Nicholas," The Archduke smiled at him with sincerity. He looked at him. So, she is the daughter of the Archduke. Nicholas' mind can't keep up with his thoughts.

"But, why, Your Highness? Why would you wed your daughter to a mere commoner like me?" He asked the question bugging him the moment he laid his eyes on the paper. Did the lady even consented to this decision? There's a lot of thoughts running in his mind for miles.

"Ho, I vividly told you to be a Duke but you wanted only a patch of land. Status doesn't matter between you and Astrid. Also, you don't know how to be greedy, child." The King interjected, reminding him of his decision of declining the Duchy. The King was then forced to give him a Barony. This man, old man, is really senile.

Rubbing his golden beard, the King looked at him thoughtfully, "Maybe, my beloved niece would finally meet her match," He murmured to the air and it left Nicholas baffled. Why would he imply something of the sort? It didn't make everything better.

"Too bad Belle was already betrothed. I would love to have you as my son-in-law," The King added and it was sufficient to say that his jaw unhinged once more. What's wrong with these Royals? What did they even see in him to think the way they do? Belle? Princess Bellenoira?

"Don't even think about it, Mcvon. He's going to marry my daughter," The Archduke gave the King a pointed glare which the latter was only laughing at.

"Did you two lose some screws somewhere in here?" Nicholas gestured to his head in a circling motion. Of course, the Knights did not take too kindly to his insult and three sharp swords were pointed at his neck at once. Even the silent valet was giving him a deadly glower. 

"I'm a farmer," He said.

"Baron," The King reiterated.

"Commoner," He said with emphasis.

"Baron, supposed to be a Duke," The King shrugged it like the situation is nothing sort of worrisome.

Nicholas sighed in annoyance, "Did you even ask the lady's permission?" He gruffly said while pushing at the swords pointed at his throat away.

Both of the Royals looked at each other, eyes guilty. 

"No?" Both said at the same time and Nicholas could do nothing but slapped his forehead in hopelessness. This is why he could not take these Royals seriously.