The Mistress' Revenge

From the Scrolls...

Another day without father, has me confined in the council hall with the most meddlesome, two-faced people of the kingdom. And their obnoxious daughters. There's supposed to be a feast to honour my late father's legacy. But I know it's just another excuse for the other dukedoms to test their waters. Do I want to take the crown after my father? Would I take in a bride? Am I a cripple? Can they walk all over me?

"Duke Canton, how delightful it is, to have you in our esteemed company," the old man, with the countenance of a fox speaks. Sir Bartholin. From the House Of Raven Bartholin. He was an astute men. Spoke volumes, and did very less.

"Indeed. Only seldom do we see such young valour to greet us in such fine feasts. Your father would be proud," Sir Valerys speaks. His hair has greyed beyond measure, and yet his tact hasn't faltered. I knew what the clear implications were. You are too young to be here. Give up the throne. Let us take over.

"That said, we didn't expect you of course. We thought you would pass over the dukedom to your brother," Sir Bartholin says. I should have known. The council was biased. They wanted Theodore to step in. But at what stake?

I was aware there were vipers looking for a chance to strike my at the neck. Take me out. But to think they had been cradled in my brother's lap.

"But you know, Sir Bartholin, that His Highness, Sir Theodore is on a leisurely voyage to Pantua, representing the House Of Lady Versailles," I added.

"Yes, and doesn't that make him more suitable for the throne? The very fact that he is capable of producing a progeny?" Sir Valerys speaks. Yes, and? Theodore will make all the treasure cogs run out of money in a month. If that's what they want. The prextext of a progeny. Surely, they just want to weasel their way in for some favours, shall Theodore take over.

"And who's to say that Duke Canton isn't capable of producing one?" Someone from the table spoke up.

"Then why hasn't he taken up a bride, Lord Marshall," Bartholin challenges him.

"Perhaps the kingdom has yet to present someone that fascinating, for Duke Canton to sway that way," Lord Marshall chuckles, his brilliant blue eyes shining. Traitor. The whole council table erupts into fits of laughter.

"I would much appreciate, if you gentlemen don't talk about me as if I am not in the room," I cleared my throat.

"Well, then, Duke Canton do tell what will it take for you to take a woman for yourself," Bartholin said, visibly annoyed.

"I suppose, you gentlemen are here for a feast. Not to discuss matrimonial prospects. That's to say is the least of your worries, I believe," my voice was cold.

"We have the menace of Red Daggers. The code of peace has been violated, and yet none of your houses have made any active attempt to communicate with the Mages. Or, make amends at the Temple Of Sacred Breath," my fist landed with a thud on the table.

"How dare you sneer in my presence, trying to forge mutinies and speaking lies when you know what is at stake?" Anger coursed through my veins, as I rose.

"You cannot be so disrespectful, Duke Canton. Despite your accolades, we still are the members of The Great Council," Valerys said.

"Well, that could be changed," I threatened.

"That won't be the best course of action, given the casualties, Your Highness," Sir Marshall cried.

"Which is why I only plan on cutting off your tongues, if you don't," my fingers curled on the hilt of my sword.

"Mercy, my Lord. We come here only in peace and you talk of blood shed," Valerys interjects. Cowards. And traitors. They knew what was going on way before father did. And they did nothing.

"The feast has ended gentlemen. Show yourselves out," I said, standing up.

Murmurs erupted around us. These half wits should have known as much. I had a council of my known. Their diplomacy served me no purpose.

"My Lord, the carriage's being ambushed. We suspect it's the Red Daggers," the footman comes in panting.

"Lady Vanya was in that carriage, travelling back to the Versailles estate with her ladies in waiting," another guard came in, panting.

"Lord Marshall, send troops before they retreat. I want every guard to give their best. The Red Daggers should be captured." Vanya, is in danger.

"Prepare my horse. Now," I couldn't let them slip away. I couldn't risk it. This was my only change. And Vanya...

You had the whole night, and only now, you are offering me a ride. I will find her. I will find her and then I won't let her go.

"Your Highness, but-" Lord Marshall intervened.

"Is this the time for a friendly talk? Did you not hear me?" I didn't want to lose any time. I pulled out my sword. My feet had a mind of their own. And before long, I found myself heading for my closest confidant. My horse.

"Zephyr," I called out with a roar, and heard the neigh from a mile away. His silvery mane shine under the light, as the guards struggled to hold his reins.

"Set him free. Zephyr's answering his master's call," Lord Marshall announced loud. And then, in awe I watched as Zephyr's milk white wings spread. His front limbs propelled, and then he lunged forward. His reins were just within my reach as I launched myself at him. His wings shifted to make space, as I mount him.

"It's always a pleasure to see you, my friend. Now giddy up, my boy," I patted his neck, and he neighed.

"Stop treating me like a kid. I am probably older than you," Zephyr groaned.

"Fine then. Get going. I probably might have pushed the woman I like right into the jaws of death," I patted him again.

"Alright, Lewis. Don't get too comfortable now."

Zephyr was high in the air, following my instructions as my eyes searched for a glimpse of the carriage.

"Right there," I yelled, as Zephyr clocked in close to the carriage.

"Vanya!" I cried out loud. Please. I hoped I could still see her. My heart skipped a beat. Vanya...