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Chapter Two: 'Til Death Do You Part
"It's disgusting," he announced, pouring the remnants of the pot out to water the rosebushes.
(Cheri would've thrown fits.)
And then, with a delicate, errantly pompous wave of his hand, Prince Wolfram shooed him away with an airy, "Make me another."
Yuri tightened his already clenched jaw and gave a horribly strained, "At once, your highness."
(There were a few things he could bear- Shouri gushing over him included- but this- this was worse than anything he ever had to endure in all 18 years of his life.)
Just as he turned to leave on polished, black boots, Wolfram clapped once, twice. "By the way, Commoner, make sure to have the maids disinfect you before you return. I'm afraid I'll catch some vile disease from you and become destitute on the spot."
And suddenly Yuri found himself shaking in barely-contained rage.
A thin crack on the handle of the gilded teapot appeared.
"Of course, your highness."
(He really, really wanted to snap back at the vain Prince. To tell him that he might already be unfit. No need for Yuri to make him unfit. But he knew that if he even opened his mouth his dreams of having kids would forever be destroyed)
Oh, what he wouldn't give to be blissfully ignorant of the repercussions of wringing that scrawny neck of his.
Or perhaps stabbing him in the head with a knife.
Laughing as he twisted it.
Murderous thoughts were something that didn't come naturally to Yuri so he was surprised to find himself thinking such things.
(But there was no regret linked with the surprise)
Once he was out of Prince Wolfram's presence, Yuri let out a heavy sigh, telling himself calmly that patience was the better part of valor. (As opposed to slipping in the LD50 concentration of plant fertilizer in one's tea.)
But then again valor never had to put up with his royal jack-assed-ness.
Curse good manners and a knight's code of honor and vows that he had yet to—
Hold on.
The crowned Prince Conrart was enjoying his own afternoon tea (made to his taste) while deciphering the penmanship of the neighboring kingdom's newest, apparently illiterate, scribe. Some of the letters were crooked and even backwards and there was a faint smell of stale cheese all over the document.
To say the least, Conrart handled it with gloves.
Of course, no one ever dared to tell the nobles but while their penmanship was beautiful to view at a distance it was completely un-understandable by common people.
And then a polite knock was hastily rapped against the door of his office.
Humming, he looked to his assistant, who was awaiting his decision concerning the visitor. After a really short moment, Conrart shrugged and threw the letter to the fireplace—assuming a greasy letter smelling of cheese that couldn't be read up, down, or sideways had nothing important to say anyway.
Royal seal on the envelope notwithstanding.
"The seventh knight, Sir Shibuya wishes an audience with you, your highness."
Conrart sniffed lightly. "Let him in," he assented with a wave of his gloved hands.
(Gloves which he then took off and also threw to the fire)
Conrart smiled wide as the newest casua—er—newly-made knight walked in with his blue and gold cape swishing behind him. The restrained look on the man's face and the general appearance of his squared shoulders and twitching eye was evidence of, most likely, an interesting last forty-eight hours.
Folding his hands over the top of his desk, Conrart absolutely beamed.
(And that reinforced the creepy feeling in Yuri)
"Sir Shibuya! How good to see you! Taking care of my brother from would-be assassins still? How is my baby brother doing, anyway?"
The knight looked like he was on the verge of combustion for a moment before Yozak coughed politely. Turning to look at his assistant give a discrete nod of his head, the poor boy turned back to Conrart and quickly executed a stiff bow of respect.
(Conrart was thankful that no one knew how childish Yozak could be when they were alone)
"Your royal highness, I have an important matter to discuss with you," he said with much strain in his voice.
Conrart's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "Important enough to forego the answer of my baby brother's welfare?"
Shibuya coughed politely. "I'm sorry, your highness. I've been… it's… Prince Wolfram is fine. More than fine."
"Good, good. So, what would you like to discuss then? A raise? That can be arranged."
The knight blinked in surprise.
Conrart was fully prepared and willing to offer it.
Wolfram was… well, Wolfram, after all.
Bless his heart.
"No, I don't—I mean, if you're willing to—Ah, no, that's not it at all."
"I see. Go on."
"Well… I was just wondering about the… uh… knighting ceremony. To make it all… official. I haven't done any of that. Taken vows. Pledged myself. You know."
Oh.
"And you wish to? That can be arranged as well."
Shibuya's eyes widened haphazardly in shock tinged with that undercurrent of fear. "No! That's not what I want at—"
"We can even open the event to the public. It'll be a grand affair! Mother and Father would approve. What a fantastic idea!"
"Your highness, the point I was trying to make is that I'm not yet bound to any vows or pledges—so technically I'm not a—"
Conrart hadn't even heard anything he said.
The thought of having Wolfram be the first prince in Shin Makuko's history to ever have a knight personally dedicated to his protection and welfare was too big a fanfare to pass up.
Just think!
To watch his little brother turn every hue of the rainbow in utter mortification as he stands in front of hundreds—no, thousands—of citizens declaring himself a personal knight!
Fantastic!
It would be the glory of glories!
Never mind that time Anissina and Greta made him wear a dress and frock at a public event and had to dance all night with other princes of the realm!
This would take the cake!
The only prince in ALL of Shin Makuko HISTORY to take a knight!
Conrart could feel himself shaking excitedly in anticipation.
(And it could be said that Conrart was a tad bit sadistic when it came to his Little Brother- which was the understatement of the century)
"—therefore I think I'll have to decline this, ah, very honorable posi—"
"Brilliant!" Conrart declared, cutting off the rather confused-looking knight. "It will advertise that my little brother is no longer an easier target than small children with sweets! At the same time we can have you take your silly sentimental vows and pledges of honor and devotion that you love so much."
All the colour drained from the knight's face—probably in utter elation that his demands were being met so easily.
Ah, he would make such a good emperor.
Listening to the woes of the people.
Solving their concerns.
Earning their love and respect for his benevolent actions.
Yes.
"Y-Your highness, I don't think you understand—"
"Oh, I understand perfectly well, Sir Shibuya, your desire to make your knighthood official. Such a tradition as knighting is really, really old and Gisela and Anissina's knights never cared about such a triviality. It was pretty much a sword to the throat where they either pledged loyalty or, well, you know—they had swords at their throats after all." The knight paled a bit more. "But if this is what you want, I can make it happen."
"But I don't—"
"Yozak, draw up the request and send it to Father for approval—wait, send it to Mother first."
Sir Shibuya started to shake with, of course, joy.
Conrart smiled and sighed contentedly with himself before leaning a little closer to the trembling knight, "Did you really think I would let you get away that easily, Sir Shibuya?"
Shibuya blinked at him with utter misery. "I… beg your pardon, your highness?"
"I don't recall saying anything, Sir Shibuya."
The boy blinked.
Thought.
Processed.
Click.
"You! You—! I can't—!"
"You may go, Sir Knight."
"No! You can't do this to me!"
"Yozak, please show Sir Shibuya the way out. It appears as if he's forgotten the way."
"I refuse! I'm not spending the rest of my—! NO!"
"Oh, please inform Wolfram of this momentous occasion as well, will you, Sir Knight? Since you are now—and forever will be until he marries—the closest person to him."
The man's eyes widened as if Conrart had cut his last lifeline.
With a very sharp sword.
The door clicked shut behind them both.
Ah.
He really would make such a good monarch.
"Your highness, I really don't think this is such a good idea."
Wolfram huffed. "And why not?" he asked haughtily.
No, really, why not?
If all went well this idiot of a knight who punched him shortly after meeting him would be gone, and his mother would think twice about assigning him another knight. He could take care of himself—never mind that he got waylaid more often than any of his other siblings—Greta included. He would show her. He would show them all.
Wolfram von Bielefeld needs no one.
"The ground here is a little unstable. I'm worried that you might slip and break your neck."
(Please. Please. Please.)
"Well, then it's a good thing you're here to take my place and break your neck for me, Commoner. There is only one of me and thousands of you village people after all."
If you looked closely, you could see a vein popping on the knight's head.
Ever since their second introduction—the one introducing him as Wolfram's new knight—Wolfram had called him commoner, peasant, and various other creative and colorful variations of the two which never before existed until now. The only real thing it had served to purpose was Wolfram forgetting the knight's name and to fuel the knight's steadily growing animosity towards his death-do-they-part charge.
(He felt like squeezing the life out of the petite boy)
"Yes," he grit out, "It is a very good thing I am here to keep you safe, your highness."
"Commoner, look out over at that bridge. Cross it for me."
The man bit his lower lip at the sight of it.
The bridge was old, but sturdy. The ropes held fast and probably would've held the weight of an oxcart crossing it—if it could fit on the narrow thing.
And that was precisely why it needed a little bit of sabotaging.
Wolfram had gone to Murata to figure out how one might, ahem, compromise the stability of a bridge.
(The children of the Royal Family was quiet good as- ahem- causing accidents to each other)
It turned out Murata knew more about the subject of 'accidental deaths' than necessary.
The prince had made a mental note to never anger the scientists in Shin Makuko should he ever manage to succeed the throne before that arrogant brother of his, Conrart.
Or perhaps over Conrart's cold, dead body.
Or perhaps warm and barely twitching with life.
"Cross it? You want me to cross the bridge? Why?"
He frowned. "To get to the other side, of course! What if I fall and meet my doom here? You'd be starved for three weeks before you were quartered and hanged. Or you could run away and be a fugitive on the run from the largest empire known to man. Except, maybe, the Chinese. Don'ttellFatherIsaidthat."
The knight heaved a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping as he peered over the edge at the white, rushing waters of the river below.
Wolfram had led them out on a quick 'nature walk' to the nearby woodlands a fair distance away from Blood Pledge Castle, claiming he needed some fresh air and to get away from the knight's horrible tea-making skills and a stuffy castle. He had claimed that he needed to think about their inevitable future lives together—since Shibuya had just delivered the tragic news about the knighting ceremony to take place in a few days. Naturally, Wolfram instantly blamed Conrart for this without thought or premeditation.
(Yuri had to admit that Wolfram took the news surprisingly well)
(If throwing a fit and breaking millions worth of expensive cutlery was well)
But then again, there would be no ceremony if something, say, awful were to happen. Especially since nobody would know about it until at least eight days from now.
Which was exactly how long it took the palace guard to find him when he was six and got lost wandering around the forest accompanying the emperor on a hunt in order to put some muscle on his, ahem, 'delicate womanly frame.' (A family from a nearby village had taken him in for the eight days. Wolfram, royalty or not, would never have survived otherwise.)
Celi had thrown fits.
(The fact that she was the one to suggest the emperor taking Wolfram notwithstanding.)
"What's on the other side, your highness?" the knight asked cautiously.
"Lions, tigers, and bears. More trees and a way down to the river, you idiot."
The knight looked at him over his shoulder and Wolfram smirked smugly at him. The expression on the man's face was somewhere between respectful composure and the desire to maim and dismember very, very badly.
Excellent.
Turning back around, the knight peered over the edge once more before looking at the bridge with a sigh. "Alright, wait here, your highness, I'll test the—" Insert kick to the back here. "WH—AHHHHH!"
SPLASH!
Wolfram peered carefully over the edge of the cliff himself. The rushing white water rapids obscured everything beneath the surface and the mist from the nearby waterfall covered everything else up.
Letting out a sigh of accomplishment, Wolfram turned back around and headed back to the horses.
Here lies Peasant Knight to Wolfram von Bielefeld.
He wasn't known well, and he wasn't well known.
But, alas, such is the life of a commoner.
May his soul rest in peace wherever it is that peasant's souls rest.
"So?" she started, in that wheedling voice of admit-I'm-right-admit-I'm-right-admit-I'm-right that all women seem to possess, "What do you think of Wolfram's new knight?"
The Emperor looked at his Empress and sighed. "Well. He's capable, I'll give him that much. Sir Adelbert can surely attest to that."
"Indeed. Whooped Adelbert good, didn't he?"
Raven gave her a disparaging sigh of disapproval. Celi had been on his case the most in the last forty-eight hours about Wolfram's new knight the most. It was only natural, though, since he was the one most against giving Wolfram a knight.
(No prince of Shin Makuko will be given a knight to coddle him!)
(Oh? And if he isn't given one I'll be the only Empress in Shin Makuko's history to have lost a son to petty banditry!)
(Darn it, Celi, I won't allow him to receive a knight!)
(If you don't allow him a knight my poor Wolfram will be prey to every vagrant and robber out there!)
(All he needs are some good self-defence lessons from Hube.)
(Scowl goes here.)
(If you don't, I can assure you that you'll be sleeping on the floor for the rest of your rule!)
(At that point in time it was hard to determine which prospect was worse to imagine for the emperor.)
Raven shifted in his seat slightly. "He did," he agreed slowly. "The boy's archery and riding skills are lacking though."
Her Majesty huffed. "Just admit it, you like him. I like him, Wolfram likes him—" Ahem. "—and that's all that matters."
Humming thoughtfully, Raven crossed his arms over his broad chest. "But I have to wonder… does the knight like Wolfram?"
Yuri sneezed.
"I will kill him."
Through thick underbrush.
"Dismember him and feed the remains to scorpions."
Over a fallen log and into a small clearing leading to a dirt trail.
"And then I will sick a pack of hungry wolves on him after I stab him a hundred—no, a thousand times!"
Through more trees and around many more branches and finally—
The perimeter of Shin Makuko shone in the noonday sun like silver.
After being kicked off the edge of the cliff by the devil incarnate, Yuri had fallen to the watery depths, missed having his head crack open on the rocks below so he could bleed to death by a fraction of space, was carried by the river downstream to be deposited in a small lake, and either swam half-conscious to shore or washed up there before passing out for a few moments and waking up.
All before lunch.
And after he lay on the shore, dazed, tired, and thanking God and whoever else was responsible for him being alive right now, Yuri cursed Wolfram's name twenty-one ways to purgatory, hell, and back just so he could stab him in the face with a butter knife and send him back.
Once he had come to terms with surviving, Yuri had shakily gotten up, dripping water from head to toe, and tried to determine which way was home. And although the brief thought to escape it all and fake a convenient death was tempting him something awful, Yuri's sense of honor and merit in a person's word overrode the desire any average and normal person would call self-preservation in the presence of individuals who—clearly—meant you harm.
Soon enough, he had lost his way again (he never really was good in the forest), and looked around the endless green surrounding him. Sighing, he hunkered down against a large tree and stared up at the endless leafy canopy above him.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and he saw Shouri's bright, shining blue eyes, his mothers curry and his fathers warm, smiling face.
And then he smelled fire.
Eyes snapping open, Yuri immediately felt a hand through his hair in a reflex reaction conditioned through having your hair lit on fire enough times to illicit one. It was wet, but intact and not burning something awful.
Before you ask, it was Shouri's fault.
When Yuri found no nearby source of fire, he looked around dazedly until he could not only smell fire but smell that fire cooking something wonderful.
And so, with the skills that every man is born with, Yuri followed the rumbling of his stomach and nose telling him to go that-a-way.
Coming upon a small shack in the woods, Yuri saw the pot smoking over the fire unattended. As he approached the pot of food with caution, he looked around for the inhabitant of the hut. They must be around here somewhere. No one would leave a fire unattended.
Well, unless they were a village idiot or something. (And in that case the whole forest was at risk.)
"Hello?" he called out carefully. "Is anyone here?"
No answer.
Huh.
Stepping up to the bubbling pot, Yuri took a deep breath of the delicious smelling food boiling inside. It was a brownish colour and he could see the various herbs and seasonings sprinkled throughout simmering meat and vegetables.
And then his stomach rumbled.
"Oh? What's this? Shall I have a guest dine with me? Or will I have that guest for dinner?"
Yuri drew his sword and whirled around to see a white haired, beautiful woman blowing smoke out at him from her long pipe. She appraised him with amused eyes beyond a hazy veil of smoke wafting about her.
She wagged a finger at him level with her bust-line. "Eyes up here, boy."
Flushing, Yuri looked up to meet her amused eyes. "S-Sorry," he apologized lamely. "Is this your home?"
She laughed. "I would imagine so! What are you doing here, so far from home, Yuri?"
Yuri jumped. "H-How—"
"Because I'm a witch," she answered simply.
He blinked, and then he looked her up and down—being sure not to linger on certain, ahem, areas—and frowned slightly. "You don't look like a witch."
A displeased frown twisted her lips and creased her brow angrily. "What do you want me to do? Wear a pointed hat and sing creepy songs at midnight over my cauldron?"
Waving his hand frantically in defense, Yuri shook his head. "No! I didn't mean—I, ah, it's just—the witches I know about are ugly and withered and you're—"
"I'm what?" she cut off sharply, advancing a step and blowing smoke out at him.
"—you're very beautiful," he finished, squeezing his eyes shut as she leered at him only inches away from his face.
Rich laughter filled the air once more and Yuri opened his eyes only to have smoke blown in his face. He coughed.
"It'll do. Your way home is that way, little knight, and I'm not helping you poison royalty. That's treason, you know. Although I am very good at making very deadly poisons," she added as an afterthought.
Yuri's face flushed once more as he frowned at the accusation. "I wasn't—I have no intention of—!" Pause. "How did you know what I was going to ask you next?"
She simply chuckled. "Oh, Yuri. I know many things. Like, for instance, don't drink the soup tonight. It will not agree with your stomach very well. Or a long life for that matter."
Turning to the direction the self-proclaimed witch pointed out to him, Yuri turned back to look at her before bowing respectfully. "Thank you for your help… ah…"
"Flurin. And don't thank me; you'll need all the help you can get."
Another laugh.
Unsure of what else to say, Yuri bowed and thanked her again before turning on his way back to the castle while she chortled in laughter behind him. After about fifteen paces, when the laughter died down, he turned back to see—
Nothing.
Gone.
Witch, shack, bubbling pot, and all.
Blinking in confusion, Yuri looked around him in confusion before turning swiftly around and resolving never to look back again until he reached Blood Pledge Castle.
It took Yuri five hours to get back.
And when he did, Wolfram looked livid.
Well, first he looked rather shocked and confused, and then he looked quite angry.
Rather than be reprimanded for being missing or any such instance, all explanations of where he had gone and been for the past day or so were waved aside and the empress herself even hugged him tightly—as if he were already family (after he showered and changed out of muddy boots and clothing, of course).
That night, like all the other good knights of princesses—and Wolfram—Yuri dined at the family dinner table. Knights of royalty always dined with their charges—no matter where that was. Even amongst family there was danger—as the sixty-first, seventy-eighth, and ninety-sixth emperors clearly illustrated with their untimely deaths at dinner by way of eating utensils. You'd think the first time was enough of a lesson, but apparently not.
As dinner progressed and conversation filled the empty void, Wolfram was reminded once again of the very public knighting ceremony to take place in a few days time.
Words could not express just how angry Wolfram looked after that.
Although Second Prince Conrart apparently could: "Wolfram, you look like a kitten that's had its yarn taken away!"
And when the soup came with the meal, Yuri, according to the witch's advice out in the forest, politely declined.
It could've been imagined, but Prince Wolfram was looking more than feverishly angry by the end of the meal.
After dinner, Yuri attended to Wolfram's every fanatical whim before bed, had more tea thrown on his person, at his person, and retired to his quarters shaking with every kind of frustration under the sun and the moon.
Dripping with Earl Grey, of course.
The very next day he was woken up by maids who presented him with a set of a knight's formal dress, sword, cape, and boots, and told him to go see Prince Conrart for a quick explanation of what was to occur.
"At which point Wolfram will knight you with a sword on both shoulders and the deal will be done," he finished with a clap of his hands.
"So… I just have to kneel before him and hope that his highness doesn't decide to use the sword for decapitation rather than knighting?"
Prince Conrart smiled warmly at him. "Exactly!"
"I think I feel ill. May I request permission to retire for the day?"
As they peered out at the crowds of noble lords and ladies, Prince Conrart placed a steely grip on his shoulder and smiled cordially as if the crowds could see him with a sweet-toned answer of, "Ab-so-lute-ly not."
Just then, Prince Wolfram himself walked up to him, giving his older brother a dirty look.
Conrart merely smiled back at him.
After a few moments of intense glaring, Wolfram lunged at Conrart—quicker than Yuri knew he was capable of—and aimed to wrap his hands around his throat.
This assault merely ended with having his arm detained behind him as he huffed in indignation and flushed horribly.
"You didn't want to wear the dress I suggested? After all, we can say that your gender was a mistake and you are, in fact, a girl. You know, to hide the fact that you are the first Shin Makuko prince in all of our empire's history to receive a knight."
Wolfram's face turned a mottled purple of anger and frustration as he thrashed about in his elder brother's grip quite futilely.
"Unhand me, Conrart, or I will have you fed to a pack of wild wolves!"
The man hummed in thought. "I love you so very much too, Wolfram! But I have to say that you are a bad negotiator. I'm not very inclined to let go of you now as tempting as that offer is."
A string of curses that would turn any decent man's ears pink spilled forth from Wolfram's lips in a vicious blur of profanity.
And only when he was panting for breath, shoulders heaving with exertion, did Wolfram calm down enough.
"Calmed down?"
Wolfram nodded, though anger was still visible on his face in a frown and glare.
"Enough to not feed me to rabid wolves?"
Another nod.
Conrart released him only to catch his wrist again as Wolfram swung it around to try and slap him.
"My, my, Wolfram, slapping is something girls do."
Flushing with horrible rage and indignity, Wolfram wrenched his wrist out of Conrart's grip and stormed off. Conrart bid him a cheerful farewell.
"Ah, he's spirited, isn't he?"
Yuri nodded in agreement. And then he cleared his throat to grab the man's attention. "Why do you torment him so much?"
Truth be told, it wasn't the first time Yuri had seen Conrart goading his younger brother into uncontrollable fits of rage.
In fact, it happened quite a lot.
Prince Conrart scoffed. "Sir Shibuya, we both know what my dear little brother is like. What would you do in my place?"
"I would—" Yuri paused. Thought about it. And— "Touché."
Another smile.
The ceremony was long, boring, and right up until Yuri was nudged to full wakefulness by a knight beside him, he had missed a majority of it. The tenets of knighthood, the duties, and values that must be upheld had been swiftly gone over—but not quite swiftly enough. The entire audience was rapt with attention—seeing as they hadn't ever seen an actual knighting before.
To a prince no less.
When it came time to travel down that red-carpeted lane to kneel before Prince Wolfram, Yuri silently prayed that he would walk out of this ceremony with his head intact as he signed the rest of his life away to verbal abuse and the odd attempt to end his life more often than not.
(Or maybe it would be better to be decapitated than to suffer with the Prince)
The ceremonial sword Wolfram held shone in the light and Yuri swallowed hard as he knelt before him.
"Yuri Shibuya, do you swear upon your honor to serve, protect, and uphold all that is right and true as a holy representative of Shin Makuko?"
No.
"I do."
"Then finally,Yuri Shibuya , do you swear eternal loyalty and devotion to your liege, Prince Wolfram von Bielefeld, prince of the Shin Makuko Empire to your dying breath?"
Definitely not.
"I do."
The man nodded to Wolfram and the prince let out a carefully hidden sigh of contempt as he lifted the sword and brought it down on Yuri's right shoulder.
Yuri felt nervous as he felt the blade dig against his shoulder at an awkwardly painful angle.
"I, Wolfram von Bielefeld, prince of the Shin Makuko empire—" The sword crossed over and landed on his opposite shoulder—much more painfully than Yuri thought was proper. "—dub this man worthy to be my knight. You may rise."
When the sword lifted from his shoulders, Yuri let out a carefully held breath of relief. Standing up, he turned to face the applause, cheer, and adoration of the noble lords and ladies of the court.
Just then, the double doors to the ceremony room flew open with such force that the echoing sound silenced the entire room as a single soldier staggered inside. His face was haggard and he was bloody all over.
The emperor rose to his feet and stood at the front, just in front of Yuri, discerning the man with a grim expression. The entirety of the royal family also looked on—some in wonder, some in contemplation, and others in slight disdain at the interruption.
Falling to his knees, the soldier coughed up blood on the red carpet and the noble crowd assembled gasped and some of the women turned their eyes away.
"My liege!" he shuddered out, "We are under attack!"
And when the knight finally fell on his face, dead, the entire room was awash with panic.
A/N: Review...
