A Call to War: C01S03

The hall did not seem as dark an hour later when the door opened once more. Marcus exited, dressed in the fine blue tunic he'd purchased in the Count's city. His bandages were still in place beneath his clothes, but that was matter for his wife and he to deal with later that evening.

He walked with purpose to the study, his new boots tapping steadily on the wooden floor. He was nervous, despite all appearances, have no idea how to introduce himself to Elsbet. There was little he could do, though. The marriage was performed and she was his. Still, his lack of knowledge of her disquieted him.

He forced his wary thoughts from his mind. They accomplished nothing, after all, as there was no alternative. He approached the door, feeling his confidence renew. This was the moment, he could feel. The moment that his life would change for better or worse. With no hesitation, he raised his hand and rapped on the oaken door.

A moment went by in silence, Marcus focusing his mind on calm. The door open, letting the light from the large windows of the study pour onto Marcus's face. He saw his father standing at the door, holding a glass of cheap sulth in one hand. “Good of you to finally get here, boy,” Athos said with a low voice.

“I was attending to myself, father,” Marcus replied, “as you told me to.” He pushed the door open wider and stepped past Athos, into the study. It was a large and airy room, lined with shelves of books of records. In the far corner, a desk sat, where Athos wrote his proclamations. Directly across from the door, between it and the high windows, four chairs of good craftsmanship sat.

In one chair, a woman five years younger than Athos sat, sipping on a cup of hot tea. She was dressed in a long blue tunic and brown leggings, wearing her riding boots. She was Lana rin Athos, Marcus's mother. Her stomach was slightly distended, but not to the point that people who did not know her would suspect her of being with child. Her hair was pulled back like Marcus's, but strands of silver hung forward over her brow.

In the chair facing hers, sat a young beauty, the likes of which Marcus had never seen. Her skin was white as the porcelain of foreign lands; and her golden hair was tied back in a long braid that crossed over her shoulder and reached her hip. She wore a muted green dress that touched the tops of her black shoes.

She rose from her seat with a grace Marcus had never known as Athos beckoned the pair over. Lana rose with her, and they walked to the door. Marcus could not take his eyes from the gentle features of his presumed bride. Lana touch his shoulder and drew his attention.

She placed a kiss on his forehead, smiling. “It is good to see my first son once again, Marcus,” she said, her voice hardly reaching the young man.

“And you as well, mother. The years have been more kind to you than to father,” he said, rushing to return to the other woman.

Lana let out a quite laugh, but Elsbet simply smiled. Marcus looked to her, feeling his heart drum harder in her chest. Athos took his wife by the shoulder and led her away from the youthful couple, giving them a moment of privacy. Marcus swallowed, his throat lumped. He had not expected to react like this.

Elsbet took the opportunity to speak first, taking a hold of Marcus's hand in her own. “It gives me great relief to meet you once more, my husband.” To him, her voice was ethereal. “I have been looking forward to this day since we met when we were children.” Her smile broadened.

Marcus forced himself to retain control, though he knew in that instant that he would do anything she asked of him. “It is my pleasure,” he started slowly, trying not to fumble with his words. “You are truly beautiful, Elsbet. This has caught me off guard, and I apologize.” He looked down and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “It is my honor to be your husband,” he said after regaining his composure. He dropped his hand to hers and looked into her eyes.

“There is no need for formality, Marcus. Your parents have been kind enough to instruct me on how to behave here.” She took great care in choosing her words, so as to no insult her husband or his family. “I pray you do not think it improper that I have rested in your bed and read of your journal.”

Marcus smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by his father's intrusive voice. “Of course he doesn't think it improper. The boy would have to have a thought, first.” Marcus shot his father a look of contempt that sparked a guffaw. Elsbet's smile dropped a bit, as she was obviously unaccustomed to Athos's behavior.

Lana smacked her husband on the back of the head, putting an end to his laughter. “Shame on you, making fun of our son in front of his bride,” she said.

Athos's voice fell, but his words were clear to Marcus. “I'll make fun of who I damn well please in my house, woman.” He threw back the remainder of his sulth as he spoke.

Lana looked back to him, raising an eyebrow. “What was that, you oaf?”

“I said, of course, you are right, my wife,” He grumbled as he stepped toward the liquor cabinet.

Marcus gestured back into the room to Elsbet. “Please, sit, Elsbet. We've much to talk about, and little time before father's feast.” Elsbet's smile returned and she led her husband to the chairs. Lana sat in the chair she had been sitting, then Elsbet, with Marcus standing next to her.

“So how fares the world outside your father's lands, my son?” Lana asked, trying to steer the conversation before Athos could derail it. “I hear that Jerno held his flower festival a short while ago.”

“Aye,” Marcus started, looking at his mother before glancing to his wife. “I mean, yes, mother. It was quite the spectacle.” He nervously sat his hand on Elsbet's shoulder, feeling the softness of her skin beneath the fine fabric. “It was just beginning as we arrived for our commissions.”

“Wonderful,” Lana said, watching Marcus's actions. “I may have to visit my sister in the city next year.” She cautiously put her hand on her belly. “Good fortune willing, of course.”

Marcus nodded. “Father mentioned that, mother.” He looked around the room, noting the general manner of it. “It is pleasant to see that nothing have really been changed in my absence. Save the gray on father's head.” Athos self consciously touched his hair as he finished pouring himself another drink.

“Must you and your father always be like this, Marcus?” Lana asked, her cheeks a slight red from the embarrassment of having Elsbet hearing her family act as they were.

Athos spoke up. “Of course we do, Lana. How else would we know that he's Marcus?” He turned around, catching Lana's glance at Elsbet before her eyes fell on him. “If you are worried about her opinion of us, it is a measure too late for that. And I'm sure she knows it is all in jest, wife.”

Elsbet let out a slight giggle at Athos's words. “I do, Father Athos and Mother Lana. And after that wedding ceremony, I doubt that I'll be able to be embarrassed again.” Marcus looked down on her, questioning.

Lana answered before Elsbet could. “You father read your vows to Elsbet.” She looked to her husband then to her son. “I'll leave you to imagine how that went.”

“What was wrong with it, woman?” Athos asked loudly. He took a short drink from his glass before continuing. “I didn't hear you complaining when I read vows to you.”

Marcus placed his right hand on his brow, massaging the tension he felt. He understood his mother's words, and his father's enjoyment of causing distress for others; and he could well imagine a grand spectacle of embarrassment on his bride. He kept his eyes lowered as he spoke. “Please tell me that you didn't read the fourth, fifth, or eighth verses of the vows, father,” he said.

Athos smiled. “I thought those would be the ones that you would most want to have her hear, boy.” A smirk crossed his lips. “You should have seen the face of her father afterward. I thought he was going to faint.”

“I nearly fainted, Father Athos,” Elsbet said, a deep red appearing on her cheeks. “I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look any of my family members in the eye again.”

Athos's laughter increased. “That just means nothing Marcus can do will ever take you as a shock, girl.” He took another drink from his cup and fell into his chair next to Lana. “He is my son after all. You should expect much of his antics in the years ahead of you to be like my own.”

“Forgive me, Father Athos,” Elsbet started, glancing quickly to Marcus. “But my husband seems a far more restrained man that you.” She smiled at Athos and Lana. “He seems more like his mother than you.”

Athos laughed. Marcus removed his hand from his face, hoping to change the topic to something of a less delicate nature. “In any event, has anything important happened in the lives of my brothers in my absence? I saw them in town before you sent them away, father, but I had no chance to speak with them.”

Athos sat his glass, nearly empty once more, on the small table between Lana and his seat. “Nothing important, really. I've been having to watch the two more, now that your wife has come to reside in your room.”

Lana looked at her husband, a wary expression on her face. Marcus raised an eyebrow. “And why is that, father?”

“Do you know how many times I've caught Benas hoping to catch a peek at her as she bathes?” He chuckled lightly at the everyone else's discomfort. “He's at that age, the one you skipped, Marcus.” He took his pipe from his belt and stuffed a small pouch of bandle leaves into it. He pulled a small device from his belt next and struck the ends of it together, producing a flame on the leaves. He tossed the device to Marcus.

Marcus snatched it out of the air. “What's this?” He asked, curious about the object as he'd never seen anything like it.

“It was a present from your sister. A mythier made it. Tap the ends together and it will make a flame to light your pipe with.” Marcus marveled at it for a moment, feeling unsure as to whether it was a good thing, or, being the product of a mythier, it should be destroyed. “You keep that, boy. I've another. Consider it a coming home present.”

That reminded Marcus of the gifts the count had given him for his father. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out two small bottles of expensive sulth. One was strong, distilled more like a spirit to remove the traces of sweetness in the wine. The other was rich, nicknamed King's Blood. He held the bottles by the neck and presented them to Athos.

“A gift from Lord Count Jerno,” he said as Athos rose to retrieve them. Marcus handed them to his father. “Try not to drink them all at once, drunkard.”

Athos had turned his back on his son, but shot him a look over his shoulder. “I know your mother won't touch either, but I'll have a glass with my son and his wife. Strong, boy?”

“King's Blood, father. I prefer to remember the rest of my day.” He looked down to Elsbet. “Would you like a glass?”

She paused for a moment before nodding. “King's Blood, Father Athos.” Marcus knew the look on her face, the look of someone that had never had a drop before. He kept himself from shaking his head, knowing that had his master not begun pouring alcohol down his throat nightly when he was fourteen, he probably wouldn't have had a drop either.

Athos poured two glasses from the smaller of the two bottles, then poured from the larger into his own. He beckoned Marcus to him, holding out the drinks with his other hand. “Children, the both of you,” he said to his son as Marcus grabbed the glasses. “When I was your age, my father had to put a lock on this cabinet to keep me from drinking all of his sulth.”

“We know, father,” Marcus said, beginning to feeling the length of his travel from Eliberin wear him down. He wanted nothing more than to sleep now, but that would not happen until well after the night had fallen. “What shall we discuss now, Lady Elsbet?” he asked quickly, preempting his Athos's rebuttal.

“Well, what of your family? You know much of my lineage, but I was told by my tutor that the records of your family's history were sealed before your grandfather.” Athos and Marcus drank all of the sulth in their glasses at the same time before looking at one another. Marcus looked back to Elsbet, holding her glass out. “Did I say something wrong, my lord?”

Athos looked to his wife as he poured another glass of strong sulth. “Lana, Would you mind checking in on the feast preparations?” Without a word, she rose and exited the room, shutting the door behind her. “Girl, you have said nothing wrong. It is a sour page in our history is all. My wife wants to know nothing of it.” He began sipping at his drink before walking back to his chair.

Marcus went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself another measure of King's Blood. “We were royal gentry, once,” he said, the sounds of discord in his voice. “Our line began, to the best of our knowledge, with Lord Prince Malcolm Aetherheln.” He trailed off as he began to drink.

Athos continued for him, knowing that his son's contemptuous view on the subject. “Malcolm was named Lord Prince of Nolis seven generations before I was born. As custom, when the King died, Malcolm resigned his position at the coronation of the next king. It was an honor, after all.” He spun his glass, swilling the drank red fluid. “He had two sons. Athias and Gerian. Athias was commissioned as a Royal Knight at the time, but Gerian wanted to succeed his father as Prince of Nolis.”

Marcus cleared his throat, silencing Athos. “The bastard led a coup against the royal family. Through Athias's actions, he was put down. But the King was not happy with this. He branded the sons of Malcolm and their sons for the rest of time to never hold honorable title or a position of power again.”

Elsbet nearly dropped her glass at the revelation. “How,” she started, then stopped, unable to find the words to ask. “If that were the case, how are you nobles once more? Royal decree never expires.”

“That would be the work of my father,” Athos said. There as a brief pause of silence in the room. Athos drew on his pipe, breathing out the smoke with his nose. “As your tutor probably told you, he was a hero of the South War. He did such great things that the King removed the prohibition against our family. The weight of Gerian's crime, though, kept him from rising higher than the common gentry.”

Marcus said, “That was enough for him. He had one child, my father. Father was supposed to raise the family to county gentry, but he was uninterested in knighthood and was expelled from his charge as a squire.” He lowered his eyes away from Athos an Elsbet; the former, so he would not insult his father, and the later, so she would not know the anger that caused Marcus. “That charge was left to me. And I've done it.”

Elsbet stared at her husband and Athos, mouth agape. She could tell that they harbored little ill will to the crown, and that they'd placed a great burden on Marcus to begin to reclaim their family's place in society. Marcus held the burden well, but he seemed the kind that would allow it to crush him should support not be given. She decided in that moment that she would give him that support for as long as she could.

Marcus looked to her, flashing a forced smile. It was the kind of man he was, after all. One to never let another feel the pain of his weights. His eyes turned from her and landed on his father. “Might Lady Elsbet and I speak in private, father?”

Athos puffed another blast of smoke from his mouth before standing, his glass still in hand. “If you are going to do what needs to be done, boy, at least wait until after your feast.” He laughed as Marcus's expression soured. “I'm going, boy. No need to give me the look of death.” He staggered to the door, the effects of the alcohol taking control of him.

Elsbet sipped at her King's Blood, unaccustomed to the taste. The door opened and closed once more before Marcus walked to the chair next to her and collapsed into it. He sat his glass on the small table between the chairs before speaking. “I beg your forgiveness for having learned this about our history after our marriage, Elsbet.” His tone was much different than it had been with his parents listening.

Elsbet smiled at her husband, giving him a warm feeling. “It is quite all right, Lord Marcus,” she said reassuringly. “I was taken aback by the tale, but it gives me great insight into your character. And the fact that the actions of your ancestors shame you so only makes me desire to stand beside you more.” She leaned forward in her chair and touched his knee.

Marcus gave her a tired smile. “Most gracious of you, Elsbet.” He placed his hand on hers. “I think that we will have a fair and long future with one another.” He leaned back in his chair and touched his free fingers to his brow. “Was there anything else that you wished to know about me? I'm sure that, being the fifth daughter of a baron, you know much of my family but little of me.”

“I've read your journal,” she said. “That gave me clues as to who you were as a boy. And you seem so different now. The last we saw one another, when your father was negotiating with my own, you were energetic and carefree. But the man that is my husband is serious and contemplative. What happened to age you before your time, Marcus?”

Marcus opened his eyes and looked over to Elsbet. “Regular beatings at the hands of my master broke me of most of my childish ways. I learned from him that I don't have the luxury of youthful indifference nor playful expression.” He turned his eyes back to his father's chair. “Had I not been trained, I would probably be a great deal like father. But master saw to it that I was worthy of the title of Knight in the Service of the Count.”

“That sounds horrible,” Elsbet replied, removing her hand from his knee. “A member of the gentry being beaten? It's unthinkable.”

“We are hardly considered members of the gentry,” Marcus said. “Most of the higher gentry think of us as slightly elevated commoners. Which is true enough of father, I suppose. But whatever nobility I had when I was a boy was forged and quenched into what it is by my master. If you wish to know more of my training, I'll not discuss it, but I will give my journal from those years to you.”

She took another drink of her King's Blood. “I think I would like that, Marcus.” Her smile deepened as his eyes fell on her. “And to think that I was afraid of being married to you.”

Marcus raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Why is that?”

“My sisters sent me letters for a time after their marriages. They spoke of horribleness among their husbands. Greedy fiends with an insatiable thirst for power and money and sex.” Her eyes dropped at the last word as she blushed. “But you seem different. Kinder and more noble. More like a knight in the ballads than noble of Ruon. Perhaps that is way I can say that I will love you, if I do not already.”

Marcus pulled himself from his chair and stepped to hers. He dropped to one knee and took her hand, kissing it softly. “Lady Elsbet, it give me honor beyond measure for you to say that.”

Elsbet sat her glass down on the table and grabbed his chin with her hand. She pulled his face close to hers and kissed him. Slight drunkenness on both of their parts was to blame for them falling backwards onto the floor, laughing like fools as they did. Marcus wrapped his arms around the small woman's body and embraced her, feeling peaceful.

“Perhaps we've had too much to drink, my wife.” He laughed, though her elbow pressed into one of his wounds. “We seem to have fallen to the floor.”

Elsbet released another giggle, whispering to Marcus, “Lightweight.” They both began laugh heartily as she rolled off to his side, laying on her back next to him. They seemed as the children they would have been in most kingdoms and nations in Kelth, but here, in Ruon, they were man and his wife.

Elsbet took Marcus's hand as they both laughed and placed it on her stomach. “Your father wishes a grandchild before First Harvest, does he not?”

Marcus sighed and rolled onto his side. “We have been married for a month or so I gather. You have waited that long. What is another few hours?” He chuckled. “And I don't really care what that drunkard wants. I am content at the moment.”

“Scared?” she asked.

“Not terribly. Simply ignorant of what is involved. The Order admonishes people for learning of carnal ways before consummating a marriage.”

“I didn't think you would be terribly religious, Marcus.”

“I wasn't, as a child. But Master was. And his conviction in the Tenants of Baerdras gave him a greater strength than I could comprehend.” The laughed completely quieted as they laid on the carpet. He moved his hand from her stomach to her chin. “We are married, though. And we've yet to consummate.” He looked over his shoulder. “Khreios! Leave.”

“Yes, master.” I returned to writing.

The door swung open as Marcus kissed Elsbet. Benas cleared his throat in the doorway. “Brother Marcus, Sister Elsbet. It is ready to begin.”

Marcus sighed heavily, Elsbet whispering, “Off all the times for a feast.”

He looked down to her, smiling truly for the first time she had seen. “Until the night, then?”