Blackburn Village (Part 2)

The Rosentines arrived in Blackburn long after the sun had set. Still, the village was brimming with life as the locals flooded the streets, drunken and jovial. Their carriages proceeded slowly, carefully navigating the traffic that was dimly illuminated by street lamps.

It was a fairly modest village. The buildings were quite indistinctive, only a few storeys tall. However, Blackburn was still infused with the character of its diverse population. Merchants from around Asteria, and even other countries, had stands lining the streets. The scents of different kinds of foods–some that Neve couldn't even identify–filled the air.

Neve leaned forward, peering out of the window at the bustling crowds threading in and out of the pubs. The majority looked like tradesmen, relaxing after a long day of work.

"Are you excited?" Vale asked. "It's just Blackburn. We've been here many times before."

"I know," Neve replied. "It's just a little bit different each time."

Vale nodded in agreement. "Well, merchants come and go with every season. I suppose it is an interesting place."

They continued the journey in comfortable silence. Neve's body was stiff from sitting all day, though she didn't complain. She wasn't eager to return to Ironhold under these circumstances, so–in some way–the long journey was a blessing in disguise.

Eventually, the carriage reached a tidy looking inn, located just off the main road. Its sign read Cordington Keep. Neve had stayed there a few times before. It was a well maintained and managed establishment, mainly serving travelling nobles or wealthy aristocrats.

Emilie and Vale's page, a young boy named Clyde, exited their carriage first. They quickly exchanged the Rosentines' luggage with the inn employees, who eyed the Rosentine crest wearily.

'Do they fear House Rosentine?' Neve wondered, a little darkly. 'Or just its evil daughter?'

The carriage door swung open, startling Neve out of her thoughts. Thomas stood on the other side of the carriage, offering his hand to Neve.

Neve obliged, stepping out of the carriage with as much grace as she could muster. After sitting for a whole day, it wasn't much. The sharp northern wind stung her cheeks, a stark contrast from the warmth of the stuffy carriage.

Vale followed suit, looking just as sore, and they proceeded to the entrance of the inn. The innkeeper was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. He was neatly groomed, his dark hair slicked back and his clothes–while still working-class–were clean and pressed. Though he wore a polite smile, he eyed Neve with trepidation.

The innkeeper bowed as the Rosentine siblings approached. "Greetings, Lord and Lady Rosentine. Welcome to Cordington Keep."

"Thank you, sir," Vale replied.

"I will show you to your rooms immediately, My Lord," the innkeeper said, straightening up. "Please follow me."

They walked up the short flight of stairs leading into the inn, Emilie and Clyde following shortly behind them. The entrance was by no means eye-catching. But its simple red brick and mortar façade gave way to a splendid interior, which matched the bright and lavish Capital style.

It was beautiful, but its uncanny resemblance to the Capital did nothing except make Neve's stomach turn.

The innkeeper noted Neve's wandering eyes. "We've made renovations recently, My Lady. I hope they're to your liking."

'I certainly wouldn't say that,' Neve thought, laughing inwardly. 'It's like the Royal Family is following me wherever I go.'

Their rooms were situated on the uppermost level of the building. The servants' quarters were underground, so Emilie and Clyde separated from the Rosentines.

"Just ring the bell if you're in need of assistance," the innkeeper instructed. "Please enjoy your stay."

He quickly excused himself, leaving the Rosentine siblings alone in the hallway.

"Why don't we freshen up and head to a nearby pub for dinner?" Vale suggested.

"Sure," Neve agreed, shrugging. She wasn't particularly hungry, but she did want to enjoy the rich foods of Blackburn while she was here. "Just give me a few minutes."

–––

The pub was spirited, punctuated by raucous laughter and clinking glasses. It was practically overflowing, filled with a variety of customers. Some were tradesmen or merchants, others looked like nobility. There were even a few women, which Neve found to be reassuring.

Still, she clutched the hood of her modest cloak tightly as they walked towards the bar. She did not want to be recognized, knowing she would become the subject of more rumours.

The Rosentine siblings managed to catch a few curious gazes, as they stood much taller than the average person. And Vale, unlike his sister, hadn't had the foresight to wear something more inconspicuous. He looked undoubtedly like a noble, and his silver hair was more than telling.

The pub quieted as more people turned to look. Figuring her efforts were futile, Neve pulled down her hood and allowed herself to be seen.

She managed to catch a few whispers.

"That's Lady Neve Rosentine. I guess she's running home to Ironhold."

"The rumours must be true. Good riddance."

"How shameless, showing her face as if she's done nothing wrong. Nobles like her are the core of this country's corruption."

"Pay them no mind," Vale said, his voice carrying over the noise–loud enough for the entire pub to hear.

"No need to worry, brother," Neve replied easily, letting false confidence seep into her words. She lifted her head high. To Neve, this was nothing. A gossiping pub was no match for the Royal Court.

The pair took their seats at the bar. Vale beckoned the barkeep over and began to order them something, but Neve's attention was drawn elsewhere.

A nobleman she did not recognize slipped into the seat beside her. "Lady Neve Rosentine," he greeted, offering her an artificial smile. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Baron Adam Guille."

"Likewise, Lord Guille," Neve responded politely, though she watched him with a suspicious eye.

"You must be heading back to Ironhold, I presume?" Lord Guille asked, his predatory smile growing wider. "That's quite a journey from the Capital."

"Indeed, it is," Neve said shortly.

"Now, now," Lord Guille sneered, "no need to be so cold, My Lady. Though I suppose an unmarried woman should maintain a sense of modesty, however false it is."

Neve gritted her teeth at the Lord's comment, which implied she was both an improper and impure lady. How foul this man was.

"I suggest you keep such comments to yourself, Lord Guille," Neve replied, straining her to keep her voice neutral.

Lord Guille laughed to himself. "I mean no harm, My Lady," he said placatingly. "It is unfortunate your engagement with Prince Claris was annulled, but a beautiful lady like you should have no problem finding another suitor."

Neve said nothing, but this brazen man was undeterred.

"In fact, I could use a second wife myself," he continued. "That is, of course, if the Lady doesn't think too lowly of me."

Neve could no longer contain her outrage. 'But I don't need to,' Neve realized. 'This isn't the Royal Court.'

Neve grabbed Lord Guille by the throat. Using all her strength, she threw him to the floor. His pudgy body bounced off the hardwood, his head hitting the ground with a particularly loud thud.

"Y-you! You dare!" Lord Guille spluttered, trying to push himself upright. "You bitch!"

Vale shot to his feet, taken aback by what had just occurred. He glanced wide-eyed between the fallen baron and his sister, standing over him triumphantly.

Neve revelled in her newfound freedom. She placed her foot on Lord Guille's chest and forced him down again. Below her, the man began to cough.

"Do not make an enemy out of me," Neve warned, lifting her gaze to the rest of the pub. "I yield to no one."

Neve stepped over Lord Guille's prone body, striding through the pub as the crowd parted around her. Her brother stared at her wordlessly as she departed.

Vale gulped as the barkeep glared at him for ruining the pub's lively atmosphere.

"Uh," Vale called out, voice catching as everyone's eyes turned to him. "This round's on me?"

Hoots and hollers erupted from the patrons, the showdown between Neve and Lord Guille already forgotten.