The Young Master Of The House of Blois! [Part 2]

Geriant Hildebrand

There was a warm sensation flooding the room, coating the frigid air with its embrace. A sea of navy uniforms cloaked the men in their seats. They sat in a constant state of awe and amusement, but none dared to utter a word while the current speaker opened his mouth. 

He poured his heart out to them, voicing emotions to the men who responded with immense vigor. His words whipped them up into a frenzy with many men barking words in encouragement at his input. Many of them looked around with great intrigue at their surroundings. Spotting the garnished frames of the extravagant art lining the velvet wall of the room.

"There is a time in a man's life where he is challenged, and those in high station face the worst of it. Greedy ministers, needy people, and foolish challengers. All that claw for any shred of relevance at the cloak of those above them. They beg for any crumbs that fall off of their betters' plates. That is usually the case. While rare, some people seem unable to grasp their proper places in this world. They delude themselves and challenge their betters."

The words of Master Percival echo throughout the decorated walls of his meeting office. He had been speaking for a while now to the men that he had gathered. Most watched their leader like a moth to a flame. Others performed menial tasks as he pranced on stage.

They leaned on his every syllable with intrigue. Pleased with the attention that he was receiving, the young master beamed with a confident grin and paced with his head held high. Many of the men murmured in confirmation to his word, but that was usually the case in meetings like this.

It was my role as his confidant to stand behind him in his display. I was requested to oversee the development of the younger master's team by Lord Mordred, but there were doubts in my mind. The men here were impressive. A small majority of those currently present fought alongside the young master at Theoscyran, so their skill was not to be questioned.

The main ones were Sir Dante and Sir Catalan and as such, they were extremely favored by the young master. They sat in the front row of the seating arrangement. both of them wore a similar smirk on their face as they soaked in the young master's words.

Percival was a star in their eyes, and for good reason. Despite being young age of nineteen, Master Percival is an accomplished member of the House of Blois and savior of Theoscyran. Even faced with insurmountable odds he has prevailed, so it was surprising to see him in his current state. 

There was a silent rage gleaming in his eyes, yet his men interrupted it as something else. They saw conviction in his eyes. Conviction to seize an overwhelming victory much like he has done many times. 

"You said that we face a foxkin, and his companions, right commander? Do you really need all of us for this task?", a man asked with an amused tone.

"A foxkin? That's it?! You would think that we would face opponents with more meat on their bones. A stableboy for the House of Angea will not be enough to even break a sweat for Gawain!", another chimed in.

The words of the man brought about a sea of laughter and banter for the group as the atmosphere became unruly by the second. The man mentioned frowned at the teasing of his comrades as he stood up to defend himself.

"Hey! I'm getting stronger by the day, so don't use me as a floor! I'll be the strongest man here in no time! Ya, hear me?!", Gawain proclaims boldly.

Despite his bravado, young Gawain only triggered laughter from his more seasoned comrades. It was easy to understand why. Gawain was a passable combantant. He would always earn last place in every benchmark exam amongst the group. He can develop, but I do not see any potential in him in the slightest.

Even now, as he attempts to portray himself as competent he does not fit the bill. His frame was more like a maiden's rather than a warrior and his face did not exactly strike fear in an opponent's heart. Not to mention, his girlish emerald eyes and flowing crimson braids. If I am being honest, then Gawain really shouldn't be a member of Master Percival's elite platoon. He doesn't fit the definition of 'elite' in the slightest.

"While our opponents are nothing too special, I still see this as an opportunity to prove that the house of Angea has no real future with Clarice at the helm. This is my chance to position myself for greater opportunities in the future. So I plan to use the greatest tools at my disposal. I desire the very best of you to serve alongside Dante and Catalan as my representatives."

"I would recommend replacing both Catalan and Dante for your duel. Both of them have proven ineffective against our opponents."

Those were the words that were issued to the young master earlier today. I would have assumed that he would have listened to my advice, but it appears that he has other plans. That fact was enough to bring a wrinkle to my brow. In my eyes, Sir Dante and Catalan are too rouge to be trusted with a task as great as this. Seeing their smug faces stretched even wider once the young master mentioned them brought disgust to me.

Although I haven't notified the young master yet, I blame the two of them for the reason for this duel in the first place. It was the two of them that caused that commotion during the banquet. Hearing from their side, the man known as Q Drago began harassing one of the servants when two of their subordinates intervened.

Those two mentioned were currently sitting behind them. They were unfortunate products of favoritism rather than true skill. Had I had my way, they would have been cut from the platoon alongside Gawain a long time ago. It is only a shame that I do not.

"While it is an honor to kick the ass of the Angea on behalf of the Blois- this match is a bit more personal for Lord Percival and the two of us.", Dante speaks, standing up from his chair.

The bald man wiped his sweat with a handkerchief pulled from his pocket. Well, I would say that he was wiping away the smirk that he once had. Now he stood with a serious tone as he gestured to himself, Sir Catalan, and the young master. When he spoke, everyone gave him their attention.

"Not only did they humiliate our gracious commander, but Catalan and myself were also made fools! Gentlemen, that is something that we can't stand for! A mere foxkin waltzed up to our commander and dared to lay his paws on the shoulders of an esteemed nobleman such as Lord Percival. Are any of you going to allow that to stand?"

"That damned demon has balls I'll tell ya that!", a man chimed for the collective.

"That is what happens when one of those fleabags gets a little taste of power. He was backed by the Angea. A house in decline!", another interjects.

"Let's all get a hold of ourselves. The Angea might be past their prime and desperately holding onto the reigns, but they are nobility nonetheless. Even if they allow mutts in their yard, we should respect the ones that came before them.", Catalan comments. 

Although I was not a particular fan of this man, he still carried a regal air to him. His short bob swayed as he joined his bald comrade by his side. They stood next to the young master and pocketed his hands. Looking back at the young master, Catalan once again spoke while presenting himself before the collective. His uniform was neatly tailored to fit his slender frame.

"We must still treat them as equals to our commander's station despite our disagreements with the company that they keep with them. It is only right that as representatives of Lord Percival, we select only the strongest among us to fully crush our opponents in this upcoming duel."

"That's a given, but I could see it in many of your eyes now. You want in on this ass-whooping badly!", Dante says in a boisterous tone. 

The taller man stepped forward with his hands on his waist. His words created a stir with the men present.

"Hell yeah, just tell us what to do, and we'll do it. I'm sure all of us want a piece of those damned Angea. Knocking them down a peg on a grand stage like this is more than enough for any of us!", a man chimed in.

"Lord Percival- May you explain what we discussed?"

"Of course, I'll have the honors.-", Master Percival responds while stepping forward. In a jovial tone, the slender, blonde noble outstretched his arms towards his men.

There was a fire lit behind his motions and when he spoke, I found myself tilting my head, "To fully dominate the Angea and their misfits, I will hold a brief tournament for all of those present to select my representatives. Only the worthy will fly my banner that day and under the supervision of Catalan, you will be given proper time to prepare."

Catalan's question left me dumbfounded, but hearing the young Master's declaration was even more surprising. I could not prevent my eyebrow from raising in disbelief. In a short time since we last spoke, it appears the young master seemed to have had a change of mind. It was I, who was originally slotted to select and oversee the men for his representatives. Now I stood by as my role was declared for another.

'A tournament to choose? That is not practical in the slightest. This must be the influence of these fiends again.'

There was once a time when Lord Percival heeded my advice. He would actually seek out my services even if I served his elder brother. Worried for him, Lord Gareth entrusted my skillset to his younger brothers. It was thanks to his benevolence that I guided the two younger men of the Blois. Now there has been a slight change to things.

Watching the young master consumed with his emotions to the point that he would act without consulting me is quite worrisome. While one may assume that he has simply grown beyond my capabilities, but I point the blame at the feet of another reason. That reason is the evergrowing influence of my supposed replacement; Catalan De La Rouge. 

A young nobleman turned adventurer, who has recently gained the affections of the young master. His eyes lit up with ambition similar to that of Lord Percival, so it isn't much of a stretch to see how much they have in common.

'This is quite the problem. He should follow the plan that I laid out for him. It is the best course of action for the information that we have on Lady Clarice's men. He knows that but why... why does he choose to avoid it?'

A singular question bounced around my mind. Is there perhaps something that I was unaware of? 

Much later following the conclusion of the meeting, I aimed to have one of my own with the young master. While I wanted answers about his decision, I found myself being ordered to a different station. A station below De La Rouge's, and honestly that infuriated me. Despite my grievances, I followed my duty. 

At the request of the new overseer, I collected all of my notes. Not long after I found myself waiting at his office's door at the crack of dusk. Reaching out, my knuckles softly tapped against the wooden frame.

"You may enter."

Invited in, I took hold of the doorknob and gave it a twist. The mechanism clicked and the door was pushed open. Lowering my head, I thanked the man for his permission to enter as I did.

"Mister Hildebrand, I am pleased to know that Lord Percival could count on your support. I hear from him that you are quite the competent advisor, so I wish to pool our information together."

The words of a nobleman could often be laced with a thick condescension, and every syllable of Catalan De La Rouge's was. Entering the room, it was well decorated. While not as impressive as Lord Percival's the De La Rouge family is well off. His office showcased his affluent status with marble busts perching on wooden stands. There was not even a trace of grime on the carpet, but I would argue that there was a mess here. 

"Masters Catalan, and Dante. It will be a pleasure to work with the two of you. It will please the Lord Percival if I were to cooperate with the both of you."

"Then how about you start with that stick up your ass?!", bellowed Dante.

Upon entering the room, I would spot the large man resting in a couch against the wall. His powerful form neatly hidden underneath the tailored uniform of Lord Percival's platoon. His words radiated with aggression, but there was subtle grace to his posture. Despite his rough appearance, Dante possessed a distinctive air of class. An air of class doesn't often equate to proper manners.

"I find your words to be rather crude, so I must ask that you watch yourself going forward.", I respond.

"That is what I am talking about. Ya gotta loosen up if we're going to be working together. After all, we all want the same thing.", Dante said.

My eyes shifted to the man and a wicked sneer was planted across his features. In his hand was a small brown pouch, and the clankering of coins echoed with his every movement. He opened it and pulled out several coins before examining them.

"A man so dedicated and loyal to yourself can't really be swayed by coin, right?", Dante said.

"And is something the matter with that? Some men aren't greedy. My duty is enough for me. It should be more than enough for the two of you as well.", I said.

"Ah yes. What a waste then. If only everyone was as devout and loyal as you are, Hildebrand. I'm sure your father would be proud..."

My features hardened, so I quickly snapped my attention away from the snickering man. Taking my eye off of the man, I would spot two other individuals. Both of them were individuals that I did not recognize, so I knew that they were not acquainted with the young master. At least that is what I would like to have hoped.

Tucked off in the corner behind Catalan and his desk was a tall, dark-haired man. A cloak coated his entire frame like a blanket, and his hair swayed like wet ink. Resting on the side of his head were furry, dark gray ears. He didn't speak, in fact, I found it incredibly difficult to perceive his presence.

It was as if I were staring at a phantom in the flesh. The other individual stood next to Dante. A shorter, crimson-haired man stood with his hands behind his back. He was an elf, and his cloak was wide open. Underneath was a bright red gem residing on a hilt of some type of blade.

"You don't have to bear any of them any mind, Geriant. I just wanted to inform you that we are all working on the same mission. We may have had our differences, but you can entrust your strategies to me. Just show up, and enjoy the masterful display that we will bring upon the Angea.", Catalan said, gaining my attention.

Although his words seemed respectful, they were hidden underneath his tone of condescension. These two infuriated me to no end, and they knew it. I knew that this meeting was nothing more than a ploy to agitate me. Catalan hid it better than Dante, but I knew that these men were not to be trusted. They are not to be favored, and one day I will show that to Lord Percival.

Catalan gestured to his desk, and thus I reacted. I stepped forward and left the items that I brought with me onto his desk. His hand reached out and he immediately shooed me from the room.

"For your sake. I wish both of you success. May my strategies aid with your endeavors.", I said while I began striding over to the door.

 "Ah- You have nothing to worry about. It'll be useful... to keep us warm."

As my hand gripped the handle of the doorway, his words made me hesitate. I wanted to give this man a piece of my mind. To advise him to take things more seriously. Looking back at him, it seemed that my words would be wasted.

"Do as you please then.", I retorted as I pulled the door open.

"We will. It would be best if you prepared yourself soon, Geriant. Check your loyalties. The death of the Angea is near."

His final words to me were baffling, but I saw it as nothing more than brazen bravado. A huff escaped my mouth as the door to the office closed to my back. With a few steps, I saw myself out. Thinking into the future, I found myself gravely concerned for the young master. There was one action that I could perform; speak with Lord Mordred. I must do that soon or the fate of the Blois will be endangered.