'He looked too close to home'

Midday.

"I didn't know you were comin'," the Felfords head was still in his sleepwear when he welcomed Vance in his villa on the outskirts of Eblon.

It's an hour's ride with his fastest horse, and he's the only one in the duchy that Vance trusted with his secret, so he had to talk to him.

"Amelia's been asking things."

"Askin' what things?" Reignold said between gritted teeth as he looked for a match to light his pipe.

"Apparently, there's a new scholar at the Keep who's from Guvien but his family's from Pradour. He's got silver hair just like Amelia and it will be only a matter of time before she starts asking about Priscilla."

"And where did this lad come from?"

"He's Dehstun's boy. He's supposed to slowly gain Lia's trust—enough that he'd be me when I'm gone."

"The lad's one of yours then? What's bothering you?"

Vance inhaled sharply. "I was expecting him any day to arrive, but I didn't know he'd meet Lia before I meet him. Lia's too curious now, and his presence's posing a bit of a challenge." the advisor said, a tad calmer now.

"Curious? Does she have an inkling that you're from Pradour?"

"She found the letter at my desk when she went into my office to look for something. Luckily, it was written in Pradour's language, and I specifically didn't have her learn it when she was young. But somehow, she understood a little and suspects that I'm from Pradour."

"And this new scholar might unearth your secret and tell it to Amelia?" Vance glared at the old man as a sort of approval. "Well," he sighed deeply, "this has been going on for a long time. You can't deny that side of her family, Vance. She has the right to know."

"She's not some kind of commoner in Pradour, Whitt. If somehow people got wind of who she is, and who her mother was, it would be easier for them to put two thoughts together. I've hidden Priscilla's real identity for as long as she lived—"

"And look where Priscilla is now. You can't do the same thing to the duchess, Vance," Reignold butted in. "You managed then because you were not in your homeland. But this is Amelia's home, she's not from there. Osmea will protect her, Creador will protect her—you know the emperor will."

"No," Vance's eyes suddenly blazed with unexplained rage as his jaw tensed. He's thought of telling her countless times before; practiced how he'd tell her in many ways than one, that it's only a matter of time to inform her about him—about them. "I will protect her for as long as it takes me, and I won't be needing the emperor's help with that," he said, and the old man shook his head slowly.

"Here, take this to calm your nerves." Reignold handed him a glass of aged wine. It's too early to drink but he might as well get drunk and forget his worries for the meantime than ponder in rage about it.

After his trip to the Felfords head's villa, Vance traced his way back to the palace but made a quick stop at an inn with a tavern on the first floor to meet the mercenary doctor, Dehstun.

"How have you been?"

"You look tanner than I last remembered."

"How's Lia?"

"She's fine, but about to make the biggest announcement that might or might not put her in any more danger than she's already in." Vance sighed before gesturing for a waitress who was circling the hall.

"You do know that at this point she's collateral damage for bringing you down, right?" Dehstun pointed out and the advisor threw a glare at him. Admit it or not, the doctor was right.

At this point, she's really collateral damage. His cousin wanted to take him out, along with the emperor of Pradour: what's like to happen is the emperor siding with him. If that's the case, then it's all good. But if Uric managed to take down the emperor before him, then that's a whole different story altogether.

Amelia marrying the duke would secure her safety and the safety of the duchy. Alexander might be shrouded with rumors and whatnot but he's not who everyone thought he was. Vance had been looking over him since they survived the night in the woods. He knows what he's been up to and how he got into trouble. He's a great ruler who brought his duchy to even more success.

"Any news from him?" Vance asked simply.

"Hmm…" the doctor sounded while gulping his ale, "We crossed paths with his group a while back. It's not good news, Vance. Not good news. They're here."

The advisor grew silent. He leaned back in his chair and drew deep breaths. He needed to calm down first to avoid making any crude decisions.

"Would they be making any moves soon?"

"You know what can help both of you at this time? Telling Amelia the truth. If anything, she's surrounded by powerful people who she doesn't even know existed. Vance, you're only making this difficult for you—and you know Amelia will be greatly affected. I know another family member dead on the ground is not what you want." Vance glared at Dehstun again, his jaw visibly clenched, before he looked the other way.

"You sound just like an old man I just met," he firmly answered, "It would be too much for her."

The doctor sighed and leaned back as well, "You're the only one thinking that. You haven't even said a thing, how could you know she won't be able to handle it?"

The advisor shook his head slowly, adamant on his decision to not tell Amelia—at least not for now. He knew that he needed to tell her at some point before everything was too much to bear or keep a secret. But that time would come, just not now.

"I met the boy you sent," Vance started after some time.

"I feel like there's something you don't like about him."

"He looked too close to home. Silver hair and from Pradour? I can already imagine Amelia interrogating him. Does he know what he's supposed to do?"

"I told him to help the duchess."

Vance couldn't help but roll his eyes. "You should've been more specific, Dehstun. I don't want Amelia to know the truth too soon and from someone else."

"That's why you should tell her yourself—and fast." Vance only looked at Dehstun and the mercenary doctor shrugged as the two continue to eat in silence. As soon as they were finished, they bade each other goodbye and left the tavern in separate ways.

By himself on his way back, Vance had a lot of time to think.

Dehstun's a wandering doctor. He helped ailing communities and even criminals on the run looking for aid. He's not picky with his patients thus making him the best informant he's ever had. Aside from that, they got each other's back fighting through Pradour's worst. The advisor would fight to the death and the doctor would patch him up well.

Such was their relationship. And such was the reason that he always listened to the doctor's advice.

If he told Amelia, how would she react? He can't lose the only relative he's got. It was a selfish thought, Vance knew, but what was he to do? It would break his heart if she hated him for not telling her sooner.

**********

Contrary to what he believed then, Alexander was faced with the fact that his staff would succumb to the temptation of money in exchange for—their lives if they were caught.

But then again, who wouldn't be tempted by money? Even a high-ranking official would grovel at his feet if he's presented with more gold than his house can hold.

The good thing about him and his men was that they don't torture people, unlike the Whitt siblings and the duchess' advisor down at that dungeon. They simply go through questioning and then be placed in a cell until they choose to live somewhere else rather than die inside. However, if Vance suddenly got wind of it, he'd surely protest that the man in question be subjected to Osmea's trials since they did more damage to their duchess than Alexander. Her council and her people may want the same thing.

Then again, his trusted knight's a member of one of the Felfords' branch families. One word from Reignold might render him without a choice but to follow the head's orders or his head would roll on the floor like some tossed spoiled vegetable.

"How loyal are you to me, Jyver?" he asked after deliberating with himself.

Taken aback, the knight took a step back to look directly at the duke, "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I meant, that if the Felfords head told you to do something, like maybe, you know, snatch the prisoner and bring it to them, would you follow?"

"I highly doubt that would be the case, your grace. The family holds integrity above all. I am of service to you, and so I am loyal to you. This they know for sure. If any, the head would send one of his grandchildren to do the job and not us. We're barely pawns so to say."

Alexander stared at him. What can a mere member of the clan do compared to someone who's probably been trained by Reignold himself since childbirth?

The duke sighed. He leaned to the side and propped his head with his hand.

"Sorry to doubt you, Jyver."

"You have every right, your grace. I don't mind at all." Alexander nodded, fairly satisfied by his knight's answer. Now, all he has to do was think of a way to keep his prisoner a secret and at the same time have him cough information without taking it from him inhumanely.

After some time reading through document after document, and signing page after page, Alexander had a good stretch after he stood from his seat.

With Jyver following close behind him, he strolled around his garden and then through a dense grove of towering bare hundred-year-old Ouklen trees. It's the only tree that strived to grow in their horrid soil and as they age, they become just as strong as steel; a good choice for making ships and small boats—even houses sometimes. On spring and summer days, the trees made the best cover from the proud sun, but during winter they sleep away to rest for the coming season.

Up ahead were eight thick, square towers that formed a protective wall with overhanging crenellations for archers that regularly patrolled the place.

"Good day, your grace," one of his shadow knights greeted him as soon as he saw him walking. "Are you questioning the stable boy today?"

"I expect him to be alive?" Alexander stared blankly at his knight, and he heard Jyver clear his throat behind him. The last time he was in a room with a stable boy, he was poisoned and left to be killed the second time. It was a horrible thing to witness, matter-of-factly.

"Very much so," the knight bobbed his head and Alexander nodded once before entering the already-opened metal gates with spikes underneath.

Inside was a small building meant for keeping Alexander's prisoners housed until he's gotten what he was after. He liked to call it Cli because behind the massive walls, was a tall cliff with deadly rock formations and massive waves crashing against it.

Everyone who didn't know thought that it's meant for his pleasures; with the location and the protective walls, even Alexander was entertained by the idea. But the duke's private prison wasn't for the usual crimes like petty thefts or swindling, or maybe killing for pleasure and whatnot. He mostly used it for more serious crimes like trafficking of both illegal articles—and sometimes of flesh.

Slavery's frowned upon in Creador, but there was no shortage of cases like that for as long as he could remember. Alexander couldn't possibly check every ship and cargo being hauled to and from the empire.

"I haven't been here in months," he noted as he walked through the large door.

"Your meeting with the duchess has made you more active. I guess people were more cautious than ever after seeing you riding through towns every day."

"Well, isn't my soon-to-be wife a great influence?" he kidded as he ignored the occupied cells with a pair of eyes peeking through the small rectangular opening on the wooden door.

When the pair arrived at the third floor and in front of the fifth cell from the stairs, Jyver pushed in the key that the keeper gave him earlier and twisted it. Pushing the heavy wooden door, a short man—boy—quickly stood from the blanketed floor and moved until his back was against the cold, moldy stone wall.

"I hope you've had a good sleep," Alexander stated, "I was occupied recently that I only had the chance to see you today. Shall we start?"

The boy's eyes shifted from side to side as he pinched the side of his nails. He was scrawny, short, and dirty, and his clothes were in tatters. His much-mended cloak was what he used as a cover over the hay that was supposed to be his bed and keep him warm.

"You didn't eat?" the duke asked when he noted the untouched food near the side of the door. "It's not poisoned. We don't poison prisoners here unlike, well, I'm sure you've heard one way or another what happened to your friend that was at Osmea. Who would've thought that such mercilessness would come from a peaceful place like Osmea, right?"

Alexander stared at the trembling boy and thought that Jyver or one of his knights could've at least set something where he could take a seat, but there was nothing in the room to his disappointment

"Tell me…" Alexander paused, waiting for the boy to mouth his name but to no avail. "Who put you up to this? If you tell me now, I can assure you and your family's safety. If I'm satisfied with your answer, I can assure you leave alive and into a ship to another kingdom, or maybe even overseas to restart your life in earnest."

"A-a-and if you're not s-s-s-satisfied?" his jaw chattered.

"Why don't you answer my question first and we'll see if I'll be satisfied or not?"

The boy ducked his head and slightly curled his body whilst slowly shaking his head. His shoulders visibly trembled and he covered his mouth with his ragged hands to blow some warmth onto it.

Alexander sighed. He glanced at his knight's stoic face and sighed some more. Rather than feel some amount of rage, the duke's eyes were soft—sorry for the things that the boy had to go through at such an age. He's proof of a flaw in the duke's duchy. To dream of a place where people in poverty wouldn't be taken advantage of by those with wealth was but a far-fetched one.

"I will give you until tomorrow afternoon to decide. If I don't get an answer by then… we'll see what happens." Alexander gave him a last look before he opened the door and strutted out. By the stairs was one of his Shadow Knights waiting for them to come out. "Take his family one by one and place them in the cell next to him so he could hear them. Threaten them a little, nothing physical. Only enough to make them beg for their lives. If possible, take the mother and any younger sibling first. And don't give him anymore to eat."

The knight threw a quick side-eye to Jyver before he nodded and guided the two downstairs and out of the gates that clanked shut behind them.

For the rest of the day, Alexander decided to sleep and woke rather late only to have something light to eat for dinner then went back to sleep again.

The next day, Alexander went to Cli with Jyver again and asked the knight if there was any progress from yesterday. The duke was told that after his mother was brought in, the boy was asking when Alexander would be back. It turned out that his father died of an infection after working at the docks and accidentally injuring himself, so his mother had to work different jobs to support him and his siblings. According to his knight, his mother has become sickly and his older sister who was working at the brothel wasn't helping much either.

With a heavy heart, Alexander put on a stern face and went inside as planned, tracing his steps from yesterday.

"Are you ready to talk now?" he asked when he entered.

"M-my mo-mother…" the boy was at the same corner from when Alexander left him yesterday, but this time, he didn't seem to have the energy to do anything that he curled into a ball with his thin arms around his folded knees. It was another chilly morning, and his thin clothes only made things harder for him.

"Your mother is in the next cell. She will be subjected to questioning later, then your youngest sibling, I believe, is on his way too. Maybe I'll have him placed on the other side of your cell. Then—" the duke wasn't able to finish his sentence when the boy reached his hands towards him but with an empty stomach and lack of sleep, he slumped on the cold floor.

"H-h-he's to-too young… No, p-p-ple-please. Not him," he said weakly. "A-and my m-mo-mother... she… she's sick. Sh-she might d-die here b-be-before I'm cl-cleared."

"Then tell me who ordered you to do it," Alexander's voice came out louder than he intended to, but he was getting impatient. He wanted to get this thing over so the boy and sickly mother can leave and eat something.

'Fuck, I hate this,' he thought as he averted his eyes to look elsewhere.

"Y-your p-p-promise?"

"I'm a businessman. I keep my promises."

"I w-w-want to le-leave with my f-f-family. Mo-money for t-t-travel too."

"Only if you can satisfy me." The boy stared at Alexander and the duke could see the determination in his eyes. Even for a little, he has to give him some credit.

"I-I-I do-don't know the n-name, b-b-but the other man has the e-e-emperor's br-brooch h-h-hidden inside his co-coat. I s-saw it. Th-that's a-a-all I kno-know…"