She did not go down tonight.
Rarely did Sharon go outside the advice of her tutor, but for years she had known he was "Mr. One-Man-Show" and thus not given to group activities.
Unfortunately warfare is never the affair of one solitary soldier, or even him and his companions alone.
This war was far more than simply two armies laying waste to each other in some blood soaked field. It was fought not just in cities, roads, meadows, woods, or hamlets. It was fought in homes, words, families, and above all else, politics. It was a strategic gambit played in tea rooms and balls. The soldiers who stained the land with their blood were nothing more than pawns fallen from the hands of the game masters hidden behind closed doors.
Sharon Rainsworth was aware her position as guerilla put her at an immediate disadvantage. All she had was silent brute force, and no mouthpiece to speak from. The language of the body was always that of the truth however; no one could doubt her intentions as she marched the army of Rainsworth and Barma to lay siege to Sablier itself. It was a victory won on the back of hundreds of slain men and the killed dreams of dozens of families. It was the silent battle hymn that called the disenfranchised to arms.
I will strangle you who has a voice until you give me my own.
Through the machinations of fate, the younger Lady Rainsworth had found herself as the figurehead for the displaced nobility, those who had lost their titles and lands to the Baskerville loyalists. Sharing the same blood as the king the Rainsworth household had first been urged to petition the monarch to not allow the Baskerville leviathan to seize all power in the country. At first the nobles had been appeased with their own assembly, until its seats had been filled with loyalists and those who opposed tyranny had been forced out into the countryside.
And the king sat on his throne with puppet strings, as he always had.
The granddaughter of the Rainsworth Duchess was now a traitor, with a price on her head, like all of her companions. Stripped of her title, fortune, and position, for the last ten years she had been nothing but a renegade. Yet she was still a Contractor, still a Rainsworth, and above all else, still a lady. For unlike the others who had fallen to vandalism in raiding the innocent peasant farms and terrorizing unimportant country counts, Sharon Rainsworth walked as if she didn't touch the ground, not even the vermillion earth after battle.
And perhaps that was why she had been chosen for an audience out of all the traitors hounding the heels of the Baskerville Empire.
Marquess Vessalius was as much a figurehead of the king, the charming young nobleman whom all must see to have the ear of Duke Baskerville. He was the bastard of Vincent Nightray and Sharon was sure that like his father he had all the great manners of a slimy eel. Ada Vessalius had perhaps fallen as far as her to whore her son out to the regime. That boy had also somehow been blinded, robbed of his red eyes. Like in great eastern empires when a sultan does not wish for his son to compete for his throne the marquess' eyes had been put out.
Sharon had turned the invitation over and over again in her hands the night the clandestine messenger had appeared in the doorway of her tent. The lithe man may have even been a Baskerville for how he had bypassed the guards. He stood in a great dark cloak however as the Lady mused over the impasse that had cleaved open at her feet.
Was she meant for the same treatment as the marquess? To be crippled so she could never be a threat ever again? Or was this sabotage? An invitation to betrayal by someone who had been so severely injured by the Baskervilles? Or was she only to be assassinated- quietly killed and quickly forgotten?
"My lady, let me go instead." Break smiled as he stirred his tea, nothing but weeds in water. "To talk to that young upstart. If he's anything like his father all he needs is a good ear-boxing."
"He certainly has better handwriting and a much more polite tone than his father ever did," Sharon waved the invitation to tea between her fingertips. Perhaps the lad was actually much more like his very proper but very odd mother.
"I think I may like to see for myself what sort of entertainment he gives a lady. He's a Vessalius and a Nightray, neither one could give a decent party to save their lives. If he's going to survive court he surely needs some instruction."
"La, la, my lady is so kind. I see she still has her affection for young boys." Break hummed as he stoked the fire in the center of the tent. Sharon stiffened and reddened, even if the only one watching was a mere messenger, to have her personal tastes so openly spoken about!
"Or is eighteen too old for my young lady?" The former steward asked the former heiress. Sharon grinned at the bemused messenger who was shivering in the night air but then turned away from the spectator. She resolutely showed Break the harisen tucked into her trousers, the man only serenely smiled, but Sharon saw his shoulders twitch.
"Goodness! If he's young, handsome, rich, and charming, why I may just marry him! I do need someone who can shine my boots halfway decently!" Sharon sniffed. "I must go see him!"
"While I am sure the lady could get the marquess to lick her boots in no time, I must insist I be the one to attend the party. A young man listens only to force," Break's smile became more strained as his voice tensed.
"Nonsense! I am sure Ada Vessalius has done nothing but taught her son grace and charm! Would you deny me an afternoon in the company of a gentleman when I've had nothing but brutes and scallywags to order about?" Sharon cried.
"He's the son of a rat!" Break spat. Sharon stifled a giggle as Break lost his temper first. He never won, and Sharon had already decided. Sharon loathed the new regime and all they had done to her family, but she knew when to bow her head. Her grandmother had taught her nothing was more valuable than an attached one.
Ladyship was a divide between superiority and humility; she would meet the marquess and would speak to him as someone of his own rank. She would also keep her retainer at her back and let him be her other half on the battlefield. For power was best divided, for no leader could otherwise be in all places at once. She could stand equal to any man so long as she knew his heart.
"A dead one," Sharon softly reminded Break as she quickly wrote an RSVP to send with the messenger. Break rose to his feet after the messenger had galloped away on his horse, back towards Reveille.
"This would be a bad time to leave," Break said flatly as he leaned on his cane. "We're so close and a counter-attack could come at any time. This may very well all be a ruse to get you away from the army before an attack. Reveille is more than two day's journey away."
"I will leave Eques in your shadow and come right away if I am needed." Sharon countered coolly as she poured her own tea.
"You're going to go totally alone, without your Chain?!" Break hissed.
"No, I shall bring Liam with me, as a representative of his own master." Sharon mused. Break was hardly appeased at the thought.
"Oh yes, we shall have to tell Barma, won't we." Break rolled his eyes. "I hate watching that young fool choke on his own words-"
"It won't matter, for you'll have already told me what he's going to say," Sharon teased. Break glowered and then sat back down with a great sigh.
"Will you stay safe?" He asked quietly.
"I shall be bringing my sword and pistol. And Liam will still have the Match Hare. No harm will come to us." And Sharon was absolutely certain in her words, for nothing else would lead to her death. Break looked at her for a long time and Sharon wondered at times whom he saw sitting in her place. He reached over and gently laid his hand on hers, and in that moment he had returned to her and her alone.
"Don't tell Liam where you're going until you're at least half a day's ride away, and I'll handle that great puffinjay Barma."
"But of course." Sharon agreed as she nibbled upon her rough dark bread. After all each person must be handled according to their own personality and desires, only she and Break were so courteous as to keep every weakness and strength in mind.
Even when Liam Lunettes more resembled a bear with his stubble and long hair he was still far more like the sleek and anxious rabbit he had resembled in his youth.
His Barma House slacks and slippers were faded and worn. They clashed horribly with his former Pandora coat, only modified to be removed of its crest leaving a dark spot on the surrounding gray fabric. Sharon was not much more presentable in her ancient pink satin dress with empty eyelets where ribbon had once run through, long since removed for more practical needs. They wore their displacement like shrouds with dirty fingernails and frayed shirt sleeves. Liam had at least shaved his beard and a helpful young woman had tried to weave Sharon's hair into a proper coif before she had left. Though after two days on the road they once again only resembled weary travelers on an endless journey.
Their garments were the cause of least concern however and Liam readily voiced all of his. He had thought they were riding towards a reserve column given up at last by Count Heirum until he had found the glen empty save for a contact holding two fresh mounts. The possibility of betrayal by a promised ally was nothing at the thought of seeing the marquess however.
"That boy has stayed out of all contact with any rebel group. The Baskervilles monitor all he does; surely they know we are coming!" Liam had burst out when Sharon demurely told him why he must change into the formal clothes that she had packed.
"I know," Sharon smiled, she was only poise and grace, as if such high risk diplomacy was nothing but complicated waltz. "But this is perhaps as good as talking directly to Duke Baskerville."
She glanced over her shoulder at Liam. "And shouldn't we at least try to save some lives if we can?"
"You know my master has no intention of surrender." Liam frowned. "Whatever you arrange, if we are not slaughtered at the door, he will not accept it."
"I know," Sharon said again, but with only a cold clarity. Liam said nothing, only looking down at the thought of his master sacrificing even more lives in an unwinnable war. Sharon knew Liam was a practical man, and one that had survived like a clever rabbit does a pack of ravening dogs. For even a rabbit has long and sharp claws.
"Oh my lady, leading me to the threshold of death!" Liam moaned softly as they mounted the fresh horses.
"But not for the first time," Sharon giggled as she smoothed down her dress.
It had been years since she had ridden side-saddle, but she kept her back straight and hands down, perfectly balanced as they rode the last few hours of their journey. Liam only groaned softly as Reveille came into view on the horizon, a cluster of slums around a few shinning mansions of the elite. The castle dominated the cityscape however; a perilous watcher perched upon the central hill, like a vulture gloating over its kill. Sharon looked away, the only person who lived there however was an old fool and one that could no longer be bothered with.
She and Liam turned their mounts down winding alleys and narrow passageways, avoiding the main roads and staying close to the shadows in the twilight. Their destination was not so far from the bloated structure on the hill, but it was much less grandiose and menacing. It was actually fairly small for a noble estate, only three stories perhaps and two wings. If you didn't know what you were looking for you would have passed it along for far grander homes towards the end of the street. That was perhaps the intention, to disguise the monster hiding amongst humanity in the most innocuous places.
Sharon tightened her hands on the reins as Liam announced her to the doorman. As the servant left to summon his master Liam helped her dismount. She looked up at the small staircase that lead to the double doors of the foyer and thought it was a bit strange that the doorknockers were skulls. Was the marquess not actually so demure about his power over life and death? No, the answer became clear as it was the marchioness who received them at the door.
"Lady Rainsworth, it's been a long time." Ada Vessalius gave a small curtsey. She had aged of course, with a pouting belly and a gray streak in her blonde hair. She was still the same unassuming noblewoman however to be showing such deference to someone who technically no longer had any rank. It was merely a gesture of respect for someone she still saw as an equal.
And at the large spider shaped brooch on her bosom Sharon remembered this woman was a witch and free to decorate her home in all the trappings of her trade.
"It has Lady Vessalius," Sharon returned the courtesy.
"And Mr. Lunettes," Ada smiled at his bow. "My son is waiting in the parlor, please follow me."
"If you do not mind me saying so," Sharon began carefully as she swept into corridor, trying to not feel so out of place in faded satin in a home furnished in fresh verdant greens. The choice in elegant yet sinister wall hangings and macabre knickknacks helped alleviate Sharon's feeling of embarrassment. This home was just too weird to be ostentatious. If anything she only felt embarrassed for Ada, who seemed more than happy to show off her questionable tastes.
"But I am surprised to see you playing hostess my lady. Is your son still unmarried?" Sharon finished after pausing for a few seconds of a painting of death leering over a couple of hapless turtles of all things. Where did she ever find such a thing…
"Yes, but he is still young yet." Ada replied. She winked at Sharon and the years seemed to flow away from her body as she became again the exuberant young niece of Oscar Vessalius. "But all the young ladies chase after him! Why just last week he's had five offers from five different families. You should be careful to not also lose your heart to him my lady."
Sharon only wryly chuckled at the thought of falling in love with someone who was twenty-six years her junior and the son of Vincent Nightray, but she heeded the sudden tone of warning that alighted Ada's voice as they paused before the parlor.
"But he already has a sweetheart I think, that he keeps away, but she has his ear above anyone else," Ada inclined her head in a mother's knowing way. She then excused herself to disappear into the parlor and behind a shut door inform her son his guests had arrived. Sharon and Liam glanced at each other both understanding Ada had been trying to warn them her son's actions were not his own. Yet perhaps neither one could know for certain why other than Ada had not lost her innocence even after all that had happened to her.
The lady of the house returned to beckon them in and shut the door behind them, excusing herself. Whatever was to happen, Ada apparently had no part in it. Sharon gave one last glance behind her at the large and thick door before looking forward and stepping into battle.
Standing before an elaborate setting of tea and delicacies was the marquess. He was very tall like the men of his father's side, but Sharon was very surprised his hair was dark though it was also long and straight. He smiled congenially, not the stupid little fake smile his father often make, but one of true hospitality. It still didn't quite reach the line of his eyes, the sealed eyelids that still carried the scars of stitches. Like Break he let his deformity show, barely covered by the length of his bangs.
"My Lady Rainsworth," He stepped forward to take her hand and politely kiss it. He was graceful like his father, but Sharon found it not so much like a snake as like a but soft feet and artful motions.
"And Mr. Lunettes." The two men bowed politely to each other. "Welcome to my home. I am the Marquess Rotem Vessalius. Thank you for coming to tea. Please have a seat."
Sharon lowered herself down upon the divan next to Liam and smoothed down her satin. Perhaps taking such care with their clothes was lost on a blind man but he likely could at least hear the crush of the fabric. He smiled anyway as he served the tea himself, either because he didn't trust his own servants to even be present or he merely wished to show in the artful movements of his hands and fingers he was still quite capable even with his injury. Sharon and Liam added their own cream and sugar however, and only after watching the marquess ready his own tea with the same.
"We are very grateful," Sharon began as she took her cup, glancing behind her but finding no space between the divan and the wall. A little more reassured an assassin would have to attack from the front she continued. "That we have this opportunity. Yet I have to wonder why a man who has a secure position within the regime would reach out to a few rebels."
"War affects us all." The marquess answered easily as he sipped his tea. On cue Sharon and Liam did the same. "It interrupts agriculture, disrupts trade, and such hostility makes true prosperity impossible. The country is stagnating and that makes us vulnerable. Thanks to the Baskerville Family we are the world power but such chaos lets any tinhorn warmonger throw his hat into the ring, as happened before."
The marquess gave them a level look. "Three weeks the province of Orentil fell to some minor king from the Horenstein region, and the capital didn't even find out about it until a few days ago because messengers could not get across rebel barricades. It's an insult we cannot stand for. If one little rat can get in they'll all jump on the ship. We can no longer afford to keep fighting each other."
"And the imperial troops in Sablier cannot leave without walking into a civil war," Sharon said with satisfaction, all her hard work had finally brought the Baskervilles to an impasse it seemed like. She kept her reaction controlled however, aware she had not yet won the war, or even battle.
"Yes," The marquess sat back with his own small smile, perhaps genuinely amused. "And the imperial army has been decimated over the last few years from this in-fighting. We are truly at a critical point, my lady."
"And what would the Baskervilles like to do about it?" Sharon asked serenely, they had already come to the point of negotiations except the marquess then shook his head. Sharon raised an eyebrow, well had she been invited to a game of sabotage then? She sipped her tea. How intriguing.
"This is what I would like to do about it, myself and my allies." The marquess confessed.
"Careful my lord, you are speaking treason." Sharon warned, but only lightly, even teasingly. The lad smiled, and Sharon felt something clench in her chest because that sort of smile…Vincent Nightray had never possessed anything like it. It was warm, earnest, and rarely given. Was this Ada Vessalius' legacy then?
"I know, but what does treason matter to rebels with prices on their heads?" He asked wryly.
"You would become one," Liam warned.
"Ah, perhaps, if all does not go well. But we'd all hang together," The marquess covered his mouth in an amused gesture that Liam only frowned at, not seeing any humor in the situation at all.
"I serve Solomon Barma, and he has sworn nothing less than complete revenge against the Baskerville family for what was done to his predecessor. If you are proposing some sort of pact, he will not accept it." Liam warned.
"Heh, you serve the effort, not the man, if this lady brought you with her." The marquess countered and Liam snorted indignantly. Sharon stifled a giggle behind her hand at Liam's mollified look.
"All the same however, I am warning you- the Barma House will not allow for anything less than the Baskervilles being rousted from power." Liam insisted.
"Well if you are serving mad man like that, I fear something must be done." The marquess sat back in his chair, tracing a finger over his left eye and the rough line of scars. "Sometimes a disease branch needs to be cut off for a tree to grow."
"Before we discuss such a thing," Sharon interrupted. "We must know what your plan is."
"It is simple enough. Keep the imperial troops contained within Sablier, but don't begin any sort of attack. Simply hold the siege. Give over your demand for a House of Lords and it will be heeded." He obliged. "Each noble family head gets one seat."
"And how can we trust this time around it won't be filled with loyalists?" Sharon pressed.
"Because, there will be immediate amnesty and return of lands and titles for all noble families who lay down their arms." The marquess answered easily.
"And how are you going to get that?" Liam demanded incredulously.
"Duke Baskerville never wanted anything more than a restoral of the power Jack Vessalius and Pandora stole from his family a hundred years ago. With it back he is willing to find a peaceful solution to this civil conflict. He knows he must keep the noble families appeased if he wants to keep the country stable. Before it was simply too soon but now with Pandora completely disbanded the country can be rebuilt."
"But what you needed was an assurance from one of the rebel leaders at least they would be willing to negotiate," Sharon finished.
"Yes, and you my lady, with Solomon Barma, control the greatest rebel army. If you surrender, most of the others will too." The marquess agreed.
"But what the Baskervilles don't need is Solomon Barma inspiring further rebellion." Sharon provided.
"Yes."
"Well then, I suppose we'll have to rectify this." Sharon bowed her head as she felt Liam stiffen next to her. As the marquess had observed however Liam served the cause, not the man. His true master had been killed years before.
"Indeed, and keep in mind this is all for naught if the siege is broken by battle." The marquess warned.
"We're still placing a great deal of trust in you that you will keep true to your word. That we will not simply be overrun by loyalists once again." Liam argued.
"I know, so I have one last gesture to make." The marquess stood and then dropped to is knee before Sharon. He politely took her hand in his keeping his face down as he paid her homage.
"I am not of the main family, but I am still a Baskerville. I am the son of the Duke's former servant, and I also serve him. I ask you, Lady Sharon Rainsworth, to be my wife as a gesture of peace. Let us unite these two households into an unbreakable bond, so we can at last heal our country."
He was being sincere, this was not a practiced proposal, but it was not one made of love or even romance. It was another political move, but a sacrificial one. Had his sweetheart even asked him to do this?
Sharon sat back, such a marriage was not something she had ever wanted for herself. Long ago she had known she would never marry even as she yearned for a handsome prince she could push to the ground. She had always wanted what she knew she could never have so she had settled for a knight. She closed her eyes, but this was no time to be selfish and keep chasing after naïve ideals. For more than ten years she had lived as a renegade and her greatest desire was only peace. If this was the way to get it, a loveless marriage of appearances, so be it.
You poor boy, she thought with a sigh. You're only eighteen years old and you have to marry an old woman. And Sharon knew even though her body was still young, her Chain would never allow her to give him an heir at this age.
Sometimes a diseased branch must be cut off for a tree to grow.
"I will." Sharon said clearly. She repeated herself as he raised his head. "I will be your wife."
May there be mercy on her soul for there had been so little in her life.
