A/N - Oh yeah, there's this thing, isn't there? I should really update it. *ducks rotten fruit*
Chapter 3
Peter shifted irritably under his covers. "This is boring! You promised there'd be fighting and death and stuff! I don't care about people getting married. When is the cool stuff going to happen?"
"Soon enough, squirt," said Mathias. He scanned ahead and decided to skip the next twelve pages, which were nothing but census-taking and the recording of statistics and the role it all played in Florin's history. "Okay, here we go..."
Little was known about Count Mircea, save for the fact that he was from some far-off land and was, indeed, a count. Stories tended to vary amongst the townsfolk, from that point. He was from a long line of nobility, cast out in a cleverly-staged coup. He was a con man who the prince secretly gave the title of "count" to as a favor. The more popular scraps of gossip (this was after gossip, of course, seeing as gossip was around the instant more than two people were in existence) found themselves woven together, until most of the people of Florin generally accepted that the Count was the illegitimate son of a nobleman, who was chased from his home by an angry mob after he was revealed to be a vampire. Mothers would warn their children not to misbehave, lest the Count crawl in their windows at night and drink their blood. Particularly stupid girls would giggle and daydream that the Count would sweep them off of their feet and take them to be his bride.
These fantasies were, naturally, entirely baseless. When one lived in as dull a land as Florin, one did what one could to have some excitement.
Even less was known of Viktor than of the Count. He arrived in Florin the same day that Count Mircea did, and was rumored to be from the same mysterious country. It was also rumored that he was only put in charge of Sadik's Brute Squad because he was in the Count's good favor. The gossip stopped there, strangely enough, though on some slow days, the townsfolk did try to spread it around that Viktor was banished from his home for some scandal that involved yogurt (this being after yogurt but only just, making it a novelty still).
That particular day, Viktor found himself wishing his life was as scandalous as the gossip claimed. At least that way, things would be more interesting. When one got right down to it, working for the royal family was boring. Maybe it would have been more exciting in another kingdom, but for a place like Florence? It was unbelievably dull. Viktor mainly spent his days wandering the castle corridors, pretending to have something important to be doing. It was a very good thing this strategy worked, because in reality, he held about as much value as a Guilder quarter. (Yes, this was after quarters. Do you think anything came before them?) The Brute Squad he manned had only been used once, roughly five years ago, to settle the matter of a batty peasant lady spitting on a fruit vendors stall. It only was formed in the first place to give Viktor something to be in charge of, at Mircea's request.
So desperate was he to alleviate his boredom, that he agreed to accompany the Count on some royal business or another. It had something to do with talking to the local farmers about their milk output for the past year. Or month. Or maybe it was actually about the quality of the eggs their chickens were producing. Viktor wasn't entirely certain. He suspected that Mircea wasn't entirely certain either.
"One more farm left, and then we can return to the castle," said the Count, who really was as bored as Viktor was. (The life of a count in Florence, you see, was even more dull than the life of the head of the Brute Squad. All his job entailed was to be fashionable and let people gossip about him).
"Of course, it would be the one farthest from town," Viktor sighed. "Who owns the place?"
Mircea pulled his horse to a halt to consult the list of farmers he was carrying. "According to this, it's run by a man by the name of..." he paused, trying to make out the terrible handwriting of whoever made that list. "... Something-Or-Another Vargas," he lamely finished.
"Odd name," commented Viktor.
"Mm," replied the Count. If no one caught on, he wasn't going to admit he couldn't figure out the first name.
The usual sleepy serenity of the Vargas farmhouse was interrupted that morning, as Feliciano burst in. "Ve! Nonna! Lovino! Someone is coming to visit us!" he cried, waving his arms. "Do you think they brought pasta? Or if not, should we cook them some?"
"You idiot," snorted Lovino.
"Pasta sounds like a fine idea," said Nonna Vargas, with a smile. "Why don't you boys get started on that, while I go out to greet them?"
Feliciano cheered and began to pull out the ingredients. With some grumbling, Lovino set about helping.
Count Mircea and Viktor had nearly reached the farmhouse when a tall, well-built man came out.
"You must be the visitors that little Feli told me about!" he said. He had a deep voice that managed to never sound gruff. "Welcome to my humble home. What can I help you folks with?"
The two men looked at each other. This Vargas fellow seemed more happy with a farm life than anyone they'd ever seen. The Count finally turned to the taller man. "Mr... Vargas?"
"That's me!"
"I presume you know who we are -"
"Sorry, I don't," interrupted Mr. Vargas.
"Therefore I'll... be... what did you just say?"
Mr. Vargas gave a booming laugh. "I said I'm terribly sorry, but I have no idea who you are."
The Count blinked. Viktor knew this was a very new situation for him. Not once, in any of the sixty-five other farms they visited, had anyone failed to recognize Mircea. The life of a count was dull, but the peasants loved to follow it. This man truly did not know who the Count was?
"Ah well, that is of no concern!" the man said, happily oblivious to Viktor and Mircea's bewilderment. "I take it you gentlemen have a reason for this visit?"
"Erm, yes," said Mircea. "We have come on behalf of Prince Sadik. You do know who Prince Sadik is?" he added, waiting for the farmer to nod before continuing. "Right. On behalf of him, we are here to record your product input and output, your financial gains and losses, the amount of livestock you keep, et. cetra and so on."
Mr. Vargas stared at the Count, a smile still plastered on his face.
"Yes, yes, of course," sighed the Count. "Let's take this one question at a time. How many people live on this farm with you?"
Mr. Vargas brightened. "Right now? That would be me and my two precious grandchildren. Lovi! Feli!" he called, turning towards the farmhouse. "Come out and meet our visitors!"
Viktor tried very hard not to yawn. The farm folk seemed nice, but their lives were blander than English food. (This being after English food, naturally. Everyone just ignored that fact because only the English could eat that stuff.)
Fortunately, it was not long before the grandchildren came running. The first was a sullen boy, who did not seem very interested in meeting them. "What is it, Nonna?" he asked. Then, when he noticed Viktor's gaze, "What the hell are you looking at, you weirdo?"
"Good day to you as well," said Viktor.
"This is my dear Lovino," said Mr. Vargas, apparently oblivious to how hostile his grandson was acting. "And Feli should be out soon. Feli! Feli, where are you?"
There was a cry of "Ve! Coming, Nonna!" followed by a girl in a maid's outfit coming out of the farmhouse.
She was…quite adorable, really. A good bit younger than Viktor, certainly, but still very cute, nonetheless. She had some air about her that invited everyone to smother her with affection. Perhaps it was her air of vulnerability? Or her delicate features?
Viktor's train of thought was interrupted as the girl - as Feli, he reminded himself - ran to the group.
"Ah! Nonna, I am here!" Feli cried. "The pasta is almost ready and - WAH!"
Her skirt had caught on an unfortunately-placed fence post, sending her flying face-first into the ground. She lay there wailing loudly, as her grandfather went to help her up.
"There, there, Feli, don't cry," he crooned cuddling her.
"What a dumbass," muttered Lovi.
"She's very delicate," the Count whispered to Viktor. "We'd better find out if she's…available."
Viktor nodded. Ever since Prince Sadik had charged them with finding potential brides for him, they had followed a simple strategy: They kept their eyes open while performing the various mundane duties assigned to them. As it turned out, things like census-taking were ideal for searching for candidates. Not only did it allow the two men to travel the kingdom, but focusing on all the suitable women they found kept them from falling asleep from boredom.
As they watched Mr. Vargas help up the weeping girl and calm her down, the two men decided it was time to find out what they could of Feli.
"You must be very proud to have such fine grandchildren," said the Count.
"Indeed!" said Viktor. "A good, strong grandson -"
"Oh for God's sake," grumbled Lovi.
"And a lovely granddaughter," Viktor finished, ignoring that.
"Oh no, I have two grandsons," Mr. Vargas said, with a smile.
Mircea and Viktor stared. They glanced at each other, and then looked again at Feli, who was sitting on the grass, picking dandelions.
Finally, Viktor cleared his throat. "Pardon. She - he - um... Feli is a grandson as well? Always?"
"Most assuredly, always!"
Viktor was completely at a loss at this. He gave Count Mircea a look that read along the lines of I have no idea how to deal with this, please help me!
Fortunately for Viktor, the Count, while no less flummoxed, had recovered much more quickly. "Ah yes, of course," he said, raising his voice slightly, to be heard over Feli, who was starting to hum. Forgive us.
Mr. Vargas let out a booming laugh. "Think nothing of it!" he said, giving each of his guests an affectionate pat on the backs that nearly sent them fling. "It's a common mistake, I assure you. Even his betrothed thought the same! It must be my grandson's lovely face. It's like an angel's, isn't it?
"It certainly is," agreed the Count, privately thinking the mistake was more likely caused by the maid's dress. "And you said he was betrothed? Who is the lucky girl?"
For the first time since he fell, Feli turned to look at the guests. "The most wonderful person in all the world!" he gushed, jumping to his feet and spilling dandelions around him. "Such golden hair! Such beautiful eyes!"
It seemed, in Viktor's opinion, safe to say that Feli was not available for the Prince. It was certainly a shame, as the boy was much more attractive than the other women interviewed (This was quite an odd thing for him to think. Keep in mind, that it was not yet after bishonen). Sadik could simply order the boy to marry him, but history showed that it was never a good idea to stick one's nose into star-crossed love. At best, it meant a bride who was constantly shrieking and weeping and writing horrible poetry about the lost love of their life. At worst, the Prince could look forward to a runaway fiancée or someone's death (his own, Feli's, a random serving boy's, they were all most inconvenient).
It seemed that Count Mircea was more optimistic on the matter though, for he continued to mine for information. "They sound lovely," he said, giving a smile that was just sincere enough to fool his audience. "And what is your betrothed's name?"
Feli beamed. "Ludwig!" he cried out.
Count Mircea and Viktor looked at each other again, this time exchanging the mutual message of At least we know he's open to the possibility…
"It's the sweetest thing you'd ever have seen!" said Mr. Vargas, completely missing the look between his visitors. "Ludwig is the boy I hired to help out on the farm. Or rather, he was the farmhand. He left some years ago, to seek his fortune in America."
"Ve! And when he's got enough money, he'll come home and marry me and I'll make pasta and -"
"I wish you both the greatest of happiness," the Count cut in. He turned his attention back to Mr. Vargas. "Now sir, if you could please tell me how many cows you keep on your farm, and the average amount of milk produced by each. And, while you're at it, the number of chickens you may be keeping and the number of eggs they lay daily…"
Count Mircea and Viktor had only just entered the castle when they were found by Prince Sadik.
"Well?" he asked, impatiently.
"The production of both milk and eggs is going well," said Mircea, reading off of the notes he took. "Quality isn't so well with the eggs, but most farmers blame that on the quality of feed on the market these days."
"Thank you for that," said Sadik, stiffly. "Not sure why you bothered asking about the chickens, since you were only supposed to look up the milk output, but never mind that. How did your other job go?"
The Count raised an eyebrow. "Are you that eager to be wed?"
"Not in the slightest, but it doesn't matter. My stepmo- er, dad… the queen started bothering me about it." (After spending most of his life with one father and no mother at all, Sadik never really adjusted to the fact that he now had two fathers). "Oh, and father was complaining about how I got rid of the miracle man."
"It was for the best, sire," Viktor assured him.
"Indeed," said Mircea, who held nothing against the former miracle man, but hated his shrew of a wife with a passion. After all of the verbal sparring they'd engaged in, she was just as likely to hit him with a frying pan on sight as to greet him, and he was all too glad to see her gone with her husband.
Sadik grunted. "Don't stall, now. Did you find anyone?"
"Well sire," said Mircea, "It may interest you to know that we did see someone today who may suit your needs…"
In an instant, Sadik's face lit up. "That's excellent news!" he said, rubbing his hands. "What's her name?"
"Erm, it's a him, actually, sire."
"…Oh. Of course it is," muttered Sadik. "He's…attractive, though?"
"Assuredly, sire."
"And my subjects will love him?"
"I believe so. He has an innocent charm to him, at least."
"Then he'll do."
"There is one issue," said Viktor. "He is betrothed to another."
"Oh? Who's that?"
"A farm boy, your highness, but he's been away at sea for years."
Sadik rubbed his chin, pondering this. Finally, he clapped his hands. "Right!" he said. "Put this boy, this…?"
"Feliciano Vargas, sire," Mircea supplied.
"Are you sure this person isn't a girl? That name sounds pretty feminine, to me. No? Okay, fine. Anyway, put this Feliciano Vargas's name on the list of potential brides regardless. I'm going to pick a wife by the end of the week, and I'll give it some thought. Maybe he'll change his mind about the engagement thing. You never know how things turn out."
Peter squirmed. "I thought you said something interesting was going to happen! This book is just boring" he complained to his uncle.
Matthias rolled his eyes. "Kid, haven't you been paying attention to what I just read? Keep listening. You don't know how these things are gonna turn out!"
