Author's Note: Hello, my readers! Thank you all so much for waiting patiently for the next installment. I will try AGAIN to ensure the next chapter won't take so long to write. The holiday season kept me busy, but I am glad nonetheless to finally share chapter three with you all!
I also wanted to give special thanks to my first reviewer, MrsTolan. :) Thank you so much for your positive feedback and enthusiasm for the story! I sincerely appreciate the support and enjoyed reading your thoughts. I would also like to send my condolences on the loss of your beloved cat. I'm so sorry to hear that. :( I understand how difficult it can be to lose a pet, especially one you rescued. But I am glad you took him in, gave him a good home, and now have memories of your time together. I send my sincerest sympathies to you and your husband.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter and a Happy New Year to you all!
DISCLAIMER: The Slayers © Hajime Kanzaka, Funimation, and J.C. Staff. Any original characters belong to me.
Troubled Waters
Chapter 3
Propositions
On a rare occurrence, the morning sun was less than welcoming to the crown prince.
In the still of the night, Phil was ensnared with taunting dreams. Every toss and turn conjured an icy stare. Thin weathered lips slowly opening and closing between each enunciated word. In his all-too-real nightmare, Phil staggered and then swirled; unable to fight against the current of a downward spiral engulfed in a sea of official letters with lords dancing among the waves of multiplying licked envelopes. Restless slumber was an eternity. Phil could not determine just how many hours he indeed deeply sleep. He closed his eyes and lounged in bed, try to make up for wasted hours; one would have expected he would be able to, given the simple fact of his station. But the sun was his own alarm clock, and he knew his responsibilities could not be delayed. That and breakfast. Phil never missed breakfast. Even on his worst days, breakfast was forever the highlight.
Once dressed, he left his rooms and entered the dining hall. There, he found Amelia and Vonzelle already seated and eating. As predicted, Vonzelle had taken sadistic pleasure in slipping snide remarks regarding the breakfast portions and the unbalanced amount of various meats versus the scarce amount of fruit. Too hungry and with little energy to care, Phil dismissed her sermon of portion control and helped himself to what she called a 'gross indulgence' of bacon and runny fried eggs. As he scooped his second portion onto his plate, he took note of the relaxed expression on Amelia's face. Phil felt a rush of relief. By the looks of it, Vonzelle had not mentioned their late-night talk to Amelia. That still did not mean his mother-in-law would eventually bring up the pressurizing subject. She was a creature who spoke her mind, regardless of anyone's feelings on the matter. Nonetheless, the ounce of hegemony at his dining table would suffice for the time being.
But for peace to last, he had to play his cards right, which called for reasonable plain ventures that kept typical old busybodies out of trouble.
"Mother," the crown prince started, filing up his now heavily occupied plate, "I've come up with some activities for you to enjoy while you are staying with us. I thought a stroll in our newly-expanded botanical garden might be nice before all the flowers fade for the season."
Vonzelle took a ladylike sip of tea and placed her teacup down onto its matching saucer. "I have no desire to walk about the palace gardens and sniff every flower within my reach, Philionel. I'm not a bee," she snapped. "From my designated window, I can already see the quality of the garden has faltered since the impregnation of those hideously blinding begonias. Besides, I have much more pressing matters to attend to than a mindless stroll."
Those 'much more pressing matters' were exactly why he suggested the garden stroll. Phil opened his mouth to defend those 'hideously blinding begonias' but was rendered pointless as a young male servant approached the breakfast table. Phil's attention turned to him as the servant politely intruded.
"Pardon me, Prince Philionel, but a delegate from Ralteague has arrived. He says he wishes to speak with you as soon as you're available. Should I escort him to your study?"
Phil lowered his eyebrows in confusion and shook his head. "Uh— yes," he finally answered, adjusting his throat. First Vonzelle arrived unannounced and now a delegate from Ralteague? He wasn't sure which intrusion threw him for a bigger loop.
"Thank you, Ernoldus," he continued. "Please, tell him I will be there momentarily." The young man nodded, bowed, and did as he was told. From there, Phil stood up and pushed in his massive chair. "My apologies, Mother, but I must attend to this. I will see we are able to have lunch together."
"Spare your rehearsed politeness, Philionel," Vonzelle waved her free hand, too fixated on adding a single small lump of sugar to her beverage than to bother making eye contact. "Go, if you must. Amelia and I are perfectly capable of keeping each other company. And I'm sure the extra side of bacon will do just fine what with its cousin the ham."
A grunt and grumble fell from Phil's lips but was unintelligible by his trusty furry mustache. For that alone, he never planned on shaving it.
As he disappeared from the dining hall, Amelia was consumed with strained awkward silence. She was aware of Vonzelle's serious nature but found her to be strangely quiet. Amelia wondered if it was just herself or if something had transpired that night between, her and Daddy. In any case, Amelia looked to the high ceiling above and prayed this would not transform into an unpleasant visitation. Her grandmother was here, and at the very least, she hoped for it to be a good distraction from all the suitor talk.
Thinking back, it had been years since Amelia saw her grandmother. The last instant was burned into the princess's memory. There was a puppet show packed full of clumsy acrobatic tricks and tales of justice conquering all evil in the world. Those tales had holes poked into them (and if they were literally visible, probably with the Ceifeed cane too) and heckled by her grandmother at the expense of an eight-year old's feelings. But Amelia hadn't taken offense to it. If anything, her naïve mind was convinced her grandmother was in dire need of more tales.
From then on out, letters were the primary form of communication. By then, Amelia made herself see past her grandmother's cold nature. Being her maternal grandmother, she was desperate for some relative connection. And it didn't take long to find one. Within the nicely printed notes were intricate words of fascinating details regarding Vonzelle's latest grandiose acts of goodwill. She, a representative of Doonatel, offered aid to the common people, not in excess by any means, but what was deemed right by the Church of Ceifeed and not anymore. She was no martyr after all and being labeled as one would be just as horrifying as misplacing the order of silverware on the dinner table.
Though her limits of support did not exclude her global trots. Her charity work took her across all countries, which lit a fire in the princess to explore outside palace walls. Reading of cultural differences, historical monuments, breathtaking rivers, snowy mountains, and rolling hills… They all played a role in Amelia's ultimate decision to travel. That and Miss Lina. But Vonzelle, despite her disposition, was a source of admiration for the princess. So, even if sharing traveling stories were her only lifeline of pleasantries, Amelia would make the most of them. Trying to get along was better than not.
After another indulgence of tea, Vonzelle perked at the scratchy scraping of a butter knife meeting crisp toast. Feeling her stern eyes on her, Amelia stopped midway through a swish of marmalade, smiled weakly, and placed the knife back onto her plate.
"Grandmother Vonzelle," Amelia started, hoping to start a new line of discussion before a disquisition commenced on how 'lady's do not scrape their toast for the entire world to hear'. "I've been meaning to ask: how was your trip to the Outer World with Grandfather Reginald and Uncle Joseph?"
Vonzelle sat her teacup down. "As you can imagine yourself, hot."
"Did you do any sightseeing?"
"Unfortunately, no," she said, lightly bereaved. When Amelia's peering intensified, Vonzelle elaborated. "It was some unpleasant business I'm afraid. A friend of your grandfather's, Lord Hamen Bardolf, Duke of Ula'ree, had met a rather speedy demise. With the monster's barrier being lifted, we were amid making a trade agreement between Doonatel and Ula'ree when he met his untimely death. It came on so quickly… something to do with his heart, the healer said. Such a shame; despite knowing him for such a short duration of time we had become considerably acquainted."
"I'm so sorry, Grandmother Vonzelle," Amelia said with empathetic eyes. "Please, tell Grandfather Reginald I send my condolences."
She nodded.
"So, is there really no hope for your agreement to go forward?" the princess pressed.
Vonzelle's icy eyes lit. "Hamen was a widower, but fortunately, the entire estate and fortune have gone to his son, Lord Esmour Bardolf. Charming young man. Very well spoken and the most gracious of hosts. Thankfully, he is willing to fulfill his father's promise and continue negotiating our trade agreement much to the benefit of Doonatel and Ula'ree's economic growth. Once signed, the agreement could set Seyruun above all its neighboring countries. It may also be a personal benefit to you as well, my dear."
A foreboding twist churned in Amelia's stomach. An uneasy inkling flared, and a sensation soared down her fingertips. She set her toast back down, in fear of fumbling. Her tone shifted. "How so?" Amelia asked.
"Lord Bardolf is a bachelor, Amelia," Vonzelle spelled out, with a hint of impatience. "I informed him of your current position. I think he would be a suitable match to consider. After all, our country will have ties with his soon enough. Your uncle is already in the process of drawing up the agreement."
Amelia did not bother to hide her terror physically from the on the sly plotting of a matchmaking scheme. Her mouth fell open and words faltered to form. "Wait—" she finally sputtered. "So, you're visiting because of the letters?"
"It's more than just the letters," Vonzelle admitted, unflinchingly. "You are at an age Amelia where you need to start thinking more about what your position and purpose in life requires from you and start thinking less about what you want from it. At sixteen my marriage was arranged; I was married within three months to your grandfather. At your age, your mother was already two years old. You have responsibilities to uphold, Amelia. I as did your mother understood this. Now it's your turn to do your part."
Amelia stared down at her half-eaten toast. The smell of Vonzelle's lemon ginger tea, the clattering of china, and the ever so faintest slurping between aged wrinkled lips made the princess queasy and restless. If Daddy was on her side, there was no true threat of an arranged marriage being enacted. Yet, Amelia felt as if it was already being pursued.
Her mother's younger brother of fourteen years, Joseph, was the family's solicitor. With him enacting the agreement, drawing up papers was beginning to look like a business transaction on Amelia's behalf rather than some non-descript treaty agreement. Amelia frowned. Thinking back to what Daddy had told her the previous night…
"Did Daddy ask you to come?" Amelia finally questioned. A terrorizing web of deceit seeped its way into her fragile mind, afraid her father had facilitated the necessary 'assistance of her grandmother'. After all, who else would have known about the letters let alone her persistent game of delay?
"In a way," was all Vonzelle said.
Amelia sunk back into her chair. Without confirmation, the princess found no release. Her entire future was before her, and all she could see of its impending vision was formidable imperceptible shadows of blind obedience. Amelia raised her chin and decided. She would not be devitalized by the looming notion of 'wise' elderly reverence or the perceived conviction of her titled obligations. Her grandmother wanted her to act like a leader and make decisions then she would.
"Grandmother Vonzelle," she proclaimed, in an unabashed tone. Amelia's mouth quivered at the meeting of the old woman's eyes. Still, she proceeded. "I don't want to get engaged to this Lord Bardolf or anyone in those letters."
She had thought her grandmother would strike her with a verbal scolding for her defiance. Instead, she was returned with a deadpan expression, scrutinizing eyes seeping their way into hers. "Because there's someone else?" she concluded.
Amelia stiffened and swallowed. Her mind swarmed manically, scrabbling for a tactful answer, without foretelling her grandmother's admission.
Outside, her attention was diverted by the familiar clogging of hooves, nays, and the rhythmic turning of beaten wood against laid stone. Then there was that voice. One all bandits trembled before, monsters' ultimate formidable challenger.
Amelia's cheeks lifted and her full lips broke out into an infectious smile.
"They're back!" she declared.
The arrival was exploited at a full advantage, as Amelia abandoned her chair. Picking up the skirts, she jumped from the table and raced out of the dining hall without little to no debilitation of her heels.
Vonzelle rose from her chair soon after, slamming her cane down with a commanding cry. "Amelia! A princess does not jump from the table. Oh, for goodness sake…"
The lecturing rules of conduct went unnoticed to the princess's ears. Absorbed in the anticipation, she could not resist haphazardly dodging passing by servants and soon zoomed past the stationed guards at the entrance. With one push, she opened the front doors of the palace and met daylight. Her eyes squinted at the bright rays breaking between massive gray pillows above. Once her eyes were adjusted, Amelia recognized the ceasing of clopping and the rolling wagon behind it.
There they were, right before her! Amelia's smile grew, ebullient for their return. Especially, after spotting a familiar face emerging from the back of the wagon, dusting himself free of poking strands of hay.
"Mister Zelgadis!"
Ambushed, the chimera stumbled backward and endured the endearing pummeling of Amelia's strong embrace. His feet danced back and forth under her shifting weight. An illusion was then given that he was swinging her body around in a grandiose greeting of affection, when in actuality, he was struggling for balance.
Two more sets of familiar faces stood by, one, adjusting her throat with an ever so noticeable 'ahem!'. When that didn't work, she simply yelled.
"Hi to you too, Amelia!"
"Oh! Hi, Miss Lina!"
Amelia, at last, freed Zelgadis from her grasp and approached her redhaired friend. She took the sorceress's hands into hers. "It's so wonderful to see you and Mister Gourry too!" Amelia basked. "It's been so long since we last caught up." She turned to face Zelgadis. "And Daddy and I missed you while you were away too, Mister Zelgadis."
There was an evident shift in Amelia's tone. Her voice grew quieter, softer, with a different sense of enthusiasm and sincerity. Zelgadis picked up on it but didn't intend on analyzing it.
"I was hardly gone a couple of days," he pointed out.
Before she had the opportunity to reply, a less than jovial presence intruded.
"Amelia," the voice rang sharply, "who are these people?"
Each head swiveled, staring at the unrecognizable guest before them. From there, Amelia interceded for the urgency of clarification.
"I'm sorry Grandmother," Amelia apologized. Her projected voice had dwindled into what Vonzelle would consider sensibly ladylike and a mask of political niceties was worn with each gracious gesture. "These are my friends," she introduced. "Miss Lina Inverse, Mister Gourry Gabriev, and Mister Zelgadis Greywords. Mister Zelgadis is also my bodyguard.
"Everyone, this is my grandmother: Lady Vonzelle Rosalind De Chiaramonte. Marchioness of Doonatel, Seyruun. She's my maternal grandmother."
All eyes dashed to one another in blatant bewilderment. When Lina specifically glanced at Zelgadis for an answer, he simply shrugged unaware himself.
"Nice to meet ya," Gourry was the first to say, smiling. He was obviously unaware a handshake was grotesquely inappropriate for a commoner to initiate. When Vonzelle simply stared at the swordsman's offered hand, in what felt like painstaking minutes, he finally withdrew it considerably puzzled. She scanned the three travelers as if baring x-ray vision that could see as far into one's soul then focused back on Amelia.
"And what is the reason behind their unexpected visit?" Vonzelle interrogated.
"We're here because Phil—"
"Invited us to stay," Lina cut in, elbowing Gourry's side in which she hoped looked casual rather than purposeful. "It's been a while since Gourry and I have seen Amelia, and Zelgadis saw us here. Right, Zel?"
"Yes," he confirmed stoically.
Lying seemed reasonably smart. Just by how she spoke to Amelia, the chimera could already see this grandmother of hers was an invasive creature solely thriving off other's flaws and excoriating ill tolerable doings. If Phil did not want them to share their investigation with just anyone, then it was only obvious someone like Vonzelle would be included on the 'not supposed to know because they could likely impede my plans' list.
Vonzelle's eyes slit against pronounced suspecting scaly eyelids. "I see. So, you're the Lina Inverse, hmm?" she remarked, changing subjects. "I've heard a great deal about you. I was under the assumption you were a hundred-year-old witch."
Lina furrowed her eyebrows. Those nasty rumors that tended to waft throughout the land had a fanciful way of contorting into hideously bizarre exaggerations of her character and appearance. And for what? So, she had slain countless bandits, a handful of dragons, blew up few villages, and notoriously powerful monsters to boot! That was nothing to snuff at, right? If anything, people should have been thanking her. Not that she wanted to be labeled as a martyr or anything. But if people were going to talk (which inevitably they would), could they at least depict her at the correct age and not paint her to be a hideous deplorable hag? Was that so much to ask for?
Lina's scowl intensified as she placed her hands on her hips. "And what caused you to reach this load of—"
"Nonsense," Zelgadis finished.
Lina glared at him for which he did not care. He was doing her a favor. The sorceress's arsenal of catty rejoinders would only serve her a side of regrets against the polemic doings of the equally formidable marchioness.
"Word of mouth," Vonzelle answered. She stuck her nose high in the air. "You can never trust what spurs from the rumor mill."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that when it comes to Lina," Gourry interjected.
"Will you just put a sock in it?" Lina hissed. Was he crazy or just plain clueless? Lina knew it was the latter, but even so, the swordsman should have known better. Giving someone like Vonzelle full ammunition against Lina's blackened reputation was comparable to making a contract with a monster.
With resolute adamancy, the redhaired sorceress interceded. "This meet and greet is nice and all, but we really need to get settled in. Long journey, ya know?"
"Of course!" Amelia understood, also wanting the subject to cease. "We have breakfast on the table."
Lina's eyes glistened with longing as salivation coated her ready tongue and anticipating teeth. "Enough for Gourry and I?" she asked.
"And then some," Amelia smiled affably. Her gazed shifted and her eyelashes fluttered against the changing season's breeze. "Mister Zelgadis, after you eat, I thought we'd go on a stroll together in the garden—"
"You will be strolling with me, Amelia."
Amelia made a face at her grandmother's stunning declaration. "But at the table, you said that the garden—"
"Never mind, what I said, my dear," she dismissed. "Now, you will do as I say."
Plump pink lips pursed, and eyebrows narrowed in a boiling start of petulant defiance. Zelgadis recognized the physical signs and wisely decided to quench Amelia's disdain before a debacle broke out.
"It's all right, Amelia," he assured, catching her attention. "I need to speak with your father and unpack anyway."
That was true. He needed to report back to Phil and in total, had more pressing matters to attend to (like unlocking his discovered chest still hiding among the hay) than to saunter aimlessly around a garden he already knew well.
In the few instances he tarried at the palace, it was a common weekly ritual for him and Amelia to walk throughout the flourishing floral bosom the royal family was proud of maintaining. There, they talked about anything and everything. From books to magic, to who should be considered as the greatest philosophers of their time or how to properly regulate the manmade pond of Phil's prized koi fish. And, admittedly, as domestic as they were, the chats were often enjoyable. Ones he could submit or pass without any serious consequence. And he liked that. Control was always a benefit he lapped up. So, Vonzelle deciding for him without his consent left him both suspicious and bothered. Why did she care if Amelia wanted to take a walk with him? Was it because of his appearance? His tone, his inflection? Had he said the wrong thing?
Probably all the above, he thought sourly.
"Phil and the unpacking can wait," Lina said, interrupting his train of thought. "Let's just get to breakfast already!" When her stomach grieved for nourishment all went to the wayside.
"Yeah! Food!" Gourry cheered.
Deliriously hungry, or just believed they were, the traveling duo clambered their way to the entrance and raced to the dining room. Amelia thought back to her father and felt sorry for him. If he intended on returning to the table, he would most likely find flecks of ham, specks of scrambled eggs, and crumbs of toast on his once full plate.
"Come along, Amelia," Vonzelle ordered with a gesturing of her cane. For someone who did not see themselves as a bee, she was already buzzing her way over the gardens. "While your little friends fraternize in the unsavory business of gormandizing, we might as well make good use of the weather and take our stroll."
Amelia's shoulders dropped and she stooped in defeat. "All right," she breathed. Desperate, hopeful eyes glanced back at Zelgadis before exiting. "Maybe we can talk later this evening, Mister Zelgadis?"
"Well—"
"Amelia!"
It seemed Vonzelle had answered for her on that too.
"I'm sorry Prince Philionel, but this agreement won't do. My father specifically asked for at least three-fourths of the pasture along the border. I'm afraid your offering of an eighth will not suffice."
Phil watched as the pointer drew an imaginary line across the opened map of the nearby territory. He then looked to its possessor, who stood with polite yet unwavering adamancy.
The arrival should not have been a surprise. Time did not seem to matter. The land agreement made no promise in coming to a close with its delegates' endless revised propositions. But Phil was no coward of change. Peaceful negotiations were his forte. But even a Pacifist had to strategize regarding the best interest of his or her country.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Phil replied, tactfully. "If I'm not being too invasive, what does your father wish to do with the land? If you intend to negotiate for a larger portion, I feel as the acting ruler of Seyruun I have a right to know how it will be utilized."
"To raise and slaughter cattle," the young man enlightened. "Our meat production, particularly in beef, brings a large portion of revenue to Ralteague given our high population. So much so, the cattle have grown in numbers this year alone. Our people's livelihood depends on expanding the land."
The crown prince soaked in his words. Naturally, Phil forever tried to be cognizant of other kingdoms' potential welfares and goals. If their doings were not of an evil nature, he would not stand in the way of prosperous development. In this case, however, the crown prince was burdened with suspicious hesitancy.
Phil's eyes flickered as he fell silent. He breathed through his nostrils looking down, and then back up. "I understand your dilemma and can sympathize. But for anything to move forward, I must consider my own farmers' situation. My daughter Amelia is amidst negotiations with them herself regarding revising and expansion. If I were to take away a portion of land amid my daughter's proposal, I'm afraid it will only lead to strikes rather than settlements."
The young man's eyes cast a similar flicker, to redevise his own strategy. He paused for a long time, eyes trailing across the contents across the crown prince's desk. He stopped, subtly focused on the far edge of the desk and towering pile that stood.
Finally, he spoke. "Forgive me for prying, but what do these negotiations of expansion detail? Is her highness available now to discuss such future endeavors?"
"She is disposed of at the moment and will be all this afternoon."
"I see." A thoughtful pause followed. Then he decided. "I'll tell you what: If my father rewrites his proposal, one that can settle this land dispute fairly to meet both our needs, then I would be more than happy to have an audience with not only you, but your daughter as well. And on her time, as I understand it is valuable."
Phil released a half-expected chuckle. "Always the considerate delegator; much like your mother. Very well then."
"Thank you, Prince Philionel," he bowed slightly.
"Now, enough talk of business," Phil loosened, with a friendly thump on the back. "I'll walk you out."
Together, they exited the study and walked down the extensive hallway. Each relaxed step invited the opportunity to speak freely without rehearsed propriety.
"I imagine your father is preparing you to be duke once your brother takes the throne," Phil started, hands folded behind his back.
The young man nodded with a heavy foreboding sigh. "Oh, yes. It's all we talk about. I'm savoring my freedom while I still can."
"Freedom?" the crown prince repeated.
He paused and clarified. "I'm sorry; my bachelorhood."
"Ah..." The nodding ceased. Naturally, becoming the next duke of Ralteague meant the soon-to-be necessity of a wife. The mere assumption led to Phil's trailing thoughts. Was that why he hadn't seen his name in that irrepressible stack?
"So, you're engaged?" Phil deduced, seeking confirmation.
"Not presently," the young man clarified.
Phil arched a hairy brow. "So, there's no one you're courting?"
The young man shook his head, immune to the often-received tone of surprise. They continued walking. "No. Apparently, my father still hasn't found a suitable replacement. But I'll be honest with you, I'm not complaining. I'm focused on my career right now."
He was aware by who and what the young man meant and so, concluded there was no need to stir up troublesome memories of the past. If anything, Phil was glad to see him look towards the future. Even if, he found it difficult to not ruminate…
"You mentioned you're also training to be the next captain of the guard, eh?" the crown prince released a small approved grin, trying to ease his curiously pressing mind. "A fine accomplishment indeed."
"It's an honor I'm proud and humble to fulfill." A twinkle of pride shimmered in his eyes.
"I see…" Everywhere he glanced, Phil sought for a distraction. He didn't realize until then how drab the walls were of his constant milieu. Perhaps, a painting or too outside of his private corridors would do the halls wonders.
His attention was lost from there. Stolen by the hollering temptation to press further for an understanding.
"By any chance, how old are you now?" Phil piped up. "Forgive me, but I've seemed to have lost track of time," he tactfully reminisced with intent. "Seems like it was just yesterday when I met that frog fanatic ten-year-old boy!"
The young man's eyes fell to the floor, adjusting his throat in hopes of avoidance of reminiscing his former naïve self. "I just turned twenty-four, your grace," he declared.
"Well, then you've got all the time in the world not only for your career but for you to marry," Phil surmised with a mirthful wink. "Most men in your position often wait until their thirties."
"Yes well, I doubt my father will want me to wait that long," he revealed, with a touch of dread. "He says if I wait too long it'll become difficult for myself, especially since he most likely wants me to marry a young respectable woman of 'exceptional breeding'," he quoted, almost as if his voice visibly cringed on his behalf. He swallowed and continued. "Considering young women prefer not to marry men twice their age, let alone ten years. I can't really blame them."
Phil nodded understandingly. He had witnessed this mildly oppositional response before just yesterday. Typical among today's changing youth, he mused silently. And he could not blame them for protesting tired traditions.
What he didn't expect was what came out of the young man's mouth.
"I do not mean to pry," he suddenly started, "but I couldn't help but notice the letters you had sitting aside on your desk. Your daughter is receiving offers of courtship, is she not?"
"They have been coming in," Phil answered.
"I don't envy you." His lips finally turned upward. His eyes wandered. "Finding the right match for her…" He shook his head, still grinning. "That must be quite a challenge."
Phil translated his words into two different responses. One, he assumed was a typical reaction he often reciprocated. The righteous cliché of wanting nothing more than the best for his precious daughter; the other, implicit passive accusations. Yes, the crown prince of Seyruun was renowned for his unconventionally modern beliefs and practices. Neighboring countries labeled him as the 'Pacifist progressive oddball of the leading world'. This surely, by the translation of the snide political grapevine, conceived the belief that Crown Prince Philionel's daughter must be a dotty privileged girl thinking and acting as if she could behave, fight, and participate in the same league as any other distinguished man.
Phil's mustache twitched. A raw nerve was hit by underlining suspicion. He held back and kept his countenance in check as he coolly but abruptly asked, "What do you think of my daughter Amelia?"
"The princess?" The young man lowered his eyebrows, his forehead slightly wrinkled. "I haven't seen her since we were children, Prince Philionel, so my opinion of her would be quite useless to you."
"Hmm." His head meandered with nodding. Once it stood still, he shot the young man with an intrigued stare. "Then how did you conclude that finding a match for her would be a challenge?"
"I just meant because as her father, you have reasonably high expectations," he countered with fumbling care. "Knowing you as a person, you obviously care about her welfare, so you wouldn't settle for anything less of what you believe she deserves."
He could smell the anxiety and deceit on his pious bovine breath. The subtle shifting eyes and rebirthed lump in the throat gave Phil ample leverage as he closed in. "And what do you believe are reasonably high expectations?" the crown prince pressed.
The young man released a short nervous bark of laughter, his eyes wandering to the side before casting back to meet Phil's. "Crown Prince Philionel, forgive me for sounding rude, but what is this line of questioning about?"
"I noticed you never sent a letter of a proposal," Phil admitted. "I was just surprised given your status and rank. I thought your father would have wanted you to."
"The subject was never discussed," he revealed. Bristled with irritation, a shift in tone erupted. It was still direct and forthcoming; but the faint lines around his mouth, the rapid stiffness in posture, and intensifying of serious eyes revealed the awoken stroking of brusque clarification. "Forgive me when I say this, your highness, regardless of what my father wishes of me, I personally have no interest in courting your daughter. Our meetings are strictly business and nothing more. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return home before nightfall. Until then, Prince Philionel."
He did not allow his face to illustrate shock by the young man's blatant gumption. In return, he nodded and permitted his guest to depart with a final bow. As the young man turned on his feet, Phil's lips pursed under his untamed mustache and his eyes slit with careful watch. His thoughts dipped and swerved, rationalizing the ever-slightest emotional upheaval he provoked.
Without any delay, the young man abandoned Phil's side and did not look back. But the crown prince already had a new array of company on their way. Rounding the corner, three sets of feet emerged from the connecting hallway. With Lina at the helm, she, Zelgadis, and Gourry far behind passed the departing young man. With steady eyes focused ahead little attention was given to his presence. But there was a glimpse from Lina. A sudden reactive glimpse, where eyes had a mind of their own. Thoughts of reporting to Phil drifted away as impeccable virile Herculean features beckoned like a sea to its shore.
Responding involuntary, a high-pitched production of breath flew between the sorceress's teeth. Lina's lips smacked together. Her eyes then dashed from the intended receiver and quickened her steps. She couldn't believe what she had just done! The abrupt whistle was like an explosion of dynamite to her ears, that Lina could only imagine how everyone else in near proximity perceived it. Instantaneously, the embarrassment crept its way out of her skin. Her face was enveloped in a curtain of red, bursting at the seams of her hand-covered folded lips with wide frightened eyes. Desperately, she fought the tempting but frightful desire to envisage what aggrieved countenance was worn by the handsome stranger.
Did I just seriously whistle? Oh, God! Just walk and don't look back!
As her feet shuffled speedily, the sorceress did not observe the sheer distance now between her and her comrades. Still trailing behind Zelgadis, Gourry noticed the young man stop in his tracks, and so, he gave him a courteous smile. Was he in need of something? The swordsman thought to ask, but uncertainty blossomed as he was confronted with an expression of perturbance. His smile shrank, blinking with befuddlement as the young man picked up his pace and disappeared around the very corner they came from.
Soon, Gourry joined Zelgadis at his side, searching for an explanation as to what just transpired. "Why did that guy give me a funny look?"
"Because Lina whistled," Zelgadis stated.
"So?"
Zelgadis walked past him unmoved. "I believe he thought it was you."
Frozen, Gourry stood agape until his feet caught up with his mind, stomping over to Lina's side. "Ah, c'mon Lina!" he bellowed. "Did you have to do that? Now, that guy thinks I'm into him!"
She had no intention to attract meretricious looks nor upset from her quixotic act. Her heart raced at her friend's ignited questioning. "I— I didn't mean to!" Lina stammered, hiding her shame from upheaved blue eyes as she shrunk her neck into the collar of her cape. "It just sort of uh— slipped out."
"Slipped out? Ever heard of think before you speak?" he badgered pitifully.
"Or whistle in this case," Zelgadis corrected.
"Just stop worrying about it!" Lina insisted, finally meeting his gaze. "It's not like you're going to see him any time soon." The hotness in her face faded by the defensive strategy of combative dexterity of easing.
"Ya really think so?" the swordsman asked, unsure.
"Absolutely!" she assured with gusto, waving her hand as she sped past him. "You worry waaay too much."
When they reunited with Phil at the front door of his study, it was the first time, and most likely only time, she was relieved to see him.
"Ah, Miss Lina!" he greeted with open arms and bombastic warmth. "So nice to see you all made it back in one piece!"
"It's nice to see Seyruun wasn't randomly invaded by monsters or radicals while we were gone either," Lina joshed. "Say, what's with all the surprise guests anyway? First your mother-in-law and now some mystery guy we saw in the hall?"
Phil's smile vanished. His resounding voice fell quiet. "Oh. I see you met Vonzelle. I'm sorry if she upset you. I would have warned you all she was coming had I known in the first place. She just showed up last night."
"Why are you apologizing for her if you don't even know what she said?" Gourry inquired.
"Because I know her," he answered with squinted dubious eyes. "And as for the mystery man, that was Prince Derek Ackerley. The second in line for Ralteague's throne."
Lina balked. "You're joking?" She allowed the gaping of her mouth to hide any return of redness to her flared cheeks. Oh, great! That's just great! I just whistled at a prince!
Placing her hands on her hips she leaned forward and lectured. "You could have warned us one of the princes from the very place we just stole ice cream from", she made sure to say in a harsh whisper, in case, somehow, he was gifted with supersonic hearing, "was here!"
"I had no idea he was coming by this morning either," Phil defended, ushering them into his study. "It's just been one of those weeks where I have been bamboozled!" He closed the door and walked to his chair. "Derek just showed up out of the blue, you see." Phil shook his head and sighed. "Typical Henry. Sending one of his sons to do his dirty work."
"Who's Henry?" Gourry asked, crashing into the eggplant dyed velvet sofa stationed against the far wall of the room.
Lina soon joined the swordsman, making herself comfortable by folding her hands behind her head and propping herself up against the accompanying matching pillows. "I think that one's pretty obvious, Gourry," she perceived. "He's the king of Ralteague."
Phil nodded in confirmation. "At least it was Derek," he acknowledged. "He may be Henry's son, but at least he's cordial and reasonable… Most of the time. At the end of the day, he knows when to stand down. If Henry had sent his eldest, Peyton, he'd be pestering me until I signed that land agreement."
"Land agreement?" Lina echoed, the only factor capturing interest to her decisive ears.
"Recently, Ralteague presented evidence suggesting a portion along the border between Dabuon and the capital of Seyruun stands as unclaimed land," Phil begun to elucidate. "I was always under the impression it was Seyruun territory, but they say otherwise… So now we are negotiating a fair division."
"If this land agreement business has anything to do with the cattle pasture, then I think we all know very well what they intend to use it for," Zelgadis presumed, leaning against the wall, across from where his employer was parked.
"You guessed right," Phil confirmed. "Prince Derek claims they are inquiring for more land due to their beef production, but I'm convinced they are using it to expand their ice cream scheme.
"Speaking of which," his voice lightened, now looking to Lina, "did you manage to get a sample?"
"More like gallons worth," Zelgadis scoffed.
"Details, details," Lina waved, ignoring her friend's sarcasm. "Let's just say we got more than enough for you to taste, test, and compare down in the kitchens. You can thank me anytime with payment and a generous tip too."
A rumbling chuckle poured from the crown prince's throat. "I wouldn't expect any less from you, Miss Lina. Now," he ruminated to himself, peering down at his desk, "where did I place your payment? I know I sat it aside for safekeeping…"
Leaning forward, Lina scanned over Phil's swarm of scattered papers. Most pieces were dictated with political agendas that would make her head spin with annoyance and exhaustion. Others, such as ink stamped letters, carried a tantalizing quality to the perceptive mind. Whatever the letters contained the plethora was an overwhelming wave to Phil's oar which struggled to combat.
"Geez! You've been getting a lot of mail!" the sorceress exclaimed.
With one hand in the air, holding a piece of paper, Phil glanced down. He then blinked back at the amazed spectators. "None in which are really for me," he explained, returning to his endless rummaging, "They're uh— for Amelia."
"Ah," Lina realized. She folded her arms across her chest and cocked an eye. "So, you've got a band full of suitors knocking on your door."
"Yes," he confirmed, with a tired sigh. "And I've only accumulated this pile in the last couple of months."
"But why so many at once?" Gourry questioned, stumped.
"Amelia is of eligible age to be married now. And once people find out word spreads. My ancestors have transformed our nation into a powerful and reliable country. And unfortunately, because of that, people see Amelia as an advantage to facilitate a political arrangement to their benefit."
Lina pursed her lips in thought. As twisted as it was to oversee one's fate, the monarchy's tradition made sense. The number of letters and writers behind them who wish to have their shot of becoming the next future king of Seyruun was really no surprise. There was an abundance to gain. Wealth, status, heritage, control, power, legacy, economic growth, trade agreements, endless pastures to be specific… But these beneficial arrangements happened everywhere. Young women like Amelia were doomed to face arranged matrimony at one point of their life or another. And she could only imagine the intensity of the pressure not only Phil was feeling but Amelia herself.
If being a commoner had one perk, Lina was glad she could choose who she wished to marry without needing anyone's consent. Then again, at least, from what Lina assumed, Amelia would be showered with beautiful gifts and men with straight pearly teeth. Men who chased her tail (without provocation) often had two furry chins with a complimentary naked head... and wandering hands. Definitely not her type and certainly not someone she'd bring home to her parents.
Lina sulked at the thought. Life had a cruel sense of humor.
"And now I have all these letters to go through by the end of tonight," Phil huffed, staring down at the ominous stack that dared him to wave that convenient little white flag.
"Why tonight?" Gourry asked.
"My mother-in-law," Phil responded exhaustingly. "That's the reason she's visiting. She hopes to get Amelia engaged as soon as possible. And knowing her, I'm sure she already has someone in mind."
Zelgadis, who was content staying silent up until this point, finally grimaced. "Did that Prince Derek fellow throw his hat into the ring?" he questioned sharply.
"Quite the opposite, actually," Phil announced with wide eyes. "He claimed he had no interest in courting Amelia. Very openly in fact. Yet he noticed the letters and brought it up in the first place."
"Sounds like a snob to me," Lina speculated, leaning back into the sofa. "Probably hurt his ego you didn't personally ask him to be a candidate."
"Maybe… But I don't think so," Phil resolved, shaking his head. "It seems he's doing everything in his power to avoid getting married. I can't really blame him. His former fiancée died some years ago. He must have taken it hard."
Not only that, he thought, disgruntled, but he seems to have already formed opinions about MY Amelia too… Of all the nerve… However, … He could really… If only— Yes!
"But then again…" There was a lightness that claimed the crown prince's face, slowly but surely considering and braving to speak his newly borne idea. Finally, he spoke. "In theory, it would be to our benefit if he showed interest in Amelia."
By his words alone, the sorceress went pale and returned his sudden idea with carefully concerned eyes. "Uh Phil, is it just me or is that crown of yours on too tight?"
"I think it fits him fine," Gourry stated, and he grinned at her with innocent assurance.
"Rest assured Miss Lina, it fits just fine!" Phil joined in, laughing from the bottom of his belly to his thick throat.
Lina's glower shifted from right to left. Without any restraint, she was about to slap them both silly upside the head. "That's not what I meant!" the sorceresses bleated in frustration.
"I know what you meant, Miss Lina," Phil chortled, which only seemed to further bristle her nerves. "I was just thinking if Prince Derek was a suitor, it would make things much easier for us to see what Ralteague might be up to."
Heated frustration left Lina's flaring nostrils and retreated to the rich warmth of her red hair. She paused and blinked. "You make a good point. That's very underhanded of you, Phil," she soon noted with a sly smile. "Using both a man's personal ambition and Amelia's feelings to your own benefit."
"Oh, I didn't mean to use Amelia!" the crown prince waved animatedly.
"But wouldn't you be technically?" Gourry countered, twisting his mouth to the side as if cogitating.
Phil slouched his shoulders. "Touché. But I wouldn't seriously consider him as a choice given our current rancor with Ralteague. Besides, even if I did, it would be pointless…. I doubt Amelia would find common ground with him. Ralteague does believe in justice— swift justice… Decapitation to be exact. And I know Amelia wouldn't stand for such practices. I can only imagine how she'll react to Prince Derek when he returns with his father's revised proposal.
"But whom am I to say what the boy's like based on his father's ruling? Maybe, Amelia would like him," Phil debated, though, after the performance he was given today by the man in question, it was natural for him to carry doubts. Still, he tried to not let the incident cloud his judgment. Or what his daughter might think of the prince.
"Lina sure does," Gourry snorted, nudging her in the arm with his toned elbow, "and she doesn't even know him."
Lina could feel her nerves tingle at the sight of Phil's perplexed expression shifting back and forth from her to Gourry. She wanted no further discussion of her embarrassing performance. Teasing was one of her very few kryptonite's she wished to stay unbeknownst to her friends… and enemies if possible.
"It was a slip of the tongue!" Lina confessed, raising her voice an octave while flailing her arms about for dramatic effect.
"You can say that again," Zelgadis goaded.
"Let's not talk about it!" she insisted.
As if a lightbulb went off above his head, Phil laid one large hand out flat and allowed a great tightened fist to crash into it. "Say, I have a real humdinger!" he proclaimed, smiling from cheek to cheek. "If you kids have the time, would you mind helping me make a dent in these here letters? I can't possibly read them all by tonight!"
They were Amelia's closest friends, so logically, they would know the most about her and what she ultimately desired in a life partner. Still, even if it was just to ease Vonzelle's invasive nature, Lina was hesitant helping in where her best friend could be potentially used as a political pawn.
"Uh sure, but— what exactly would we be looking for? Political positions? Rank? Status?" she asked, pointing at the conundrum now passed onto her.
"Not really. I'm more interested in who they are as people and the good they have done rather than where they were born, who they were born to, and how they got their title."
Typical Phil. He was an unconventional ruler by most world leaders' standards, so naturally, he did not factor 'good breeding' like most nobility. He was looking at character and likeability. Which was in favor of Amelia's current position. But still…
"I guess we could help but, shouldn't we also clue Amelia in on this?" Gourry reminded. "I mean, she's the one who's going to marry one of these guys, after all."
"Amelia's not going to marry anyone in this stack," Phil promised. "At least, not without her willingness and consent. I would never make her do anything she's not comfortable with. I'm only doing this to keep Vonzelle at bay. And if I must entertain this idea, I should at least choose someone of worth and value or someone who would treat Amelia kindly."
"Why do you think Amelia won't marry anyone in these letters?" Gourry went on asking. Honestly, he did not understand why commitment and romance had to be so unnecessarily complicated in the world of royalty.
"Because she's made it clear she doesn't want to," Phil stated. "And I'm not going to force her by any means. She just needs time. Pressuring her would only push her away and I don't want that."
He knew from the incredible strength and endurance of his body, that leaning against the wall for a long period of time would have no effect in creating a backache. But he used it as an excuse to his subconscious, permitting him to abandon his usual perch and make his exit.
"You two go ahead if you want," Zelgadis announced to his friends before turning to his employer. "I apologize Philionel, but I have other matters that require my immediate attention."
"And what matters are these, Zel?" Lina pushed with a watchful eye.
"None of your business," he returned flatly.
"Of course, Mister Zelgadis. I understand," Phil replied. There was a silent exchange between the two. Something passing from each other's eyes. It was likely, not intentional. But in constant company with a variety of people, Phil had come to understand when declaration was impossible, and implication was.
"We'll talk more about your trip later then," he carried on. "Thank you for your time and help."
Zelgadis nodded and with that, left the study ignoring the skeptical eyeing of the redhead. Once the door clicked shut, Lina focused on the crown prince and cocked an eyebrow.
"Do you always let him off the hook that easily?" she asked, gesturing her thumb towards the door in which Zelgadis made his departure.
When Phil was about to answer, the doors burst open with a thunderous clamor. Before them stood Ernoldous, panting and collecting a streak of sweat from his forehead. Between breaths, he straightened his posture and cleared his congested throat.
"Forgive me Prince Philionel for intruding, but your highness's presence has been requested at once concerning a dire matter!"
"What is it, Ernoldous?" Phil demanded, rising from his seat.
Could Seyruun be under attack? They were no strangers to monsters' usurping or invading. What could possibly be next?
"Four dairy cows have just been reported as missing at the Sutton Farm!"
Phil's fists tightened and his teeth clenched.
No. This was the work of humans.
A/N Count: Thank you all for reading! I had a few notes here I'd like to mention regarding this chapter. I noticed Ralteague is never mentioned in the anime (from what I can recall, at least. Forgive me if I have forgotten!), so I thought why not expand upon this country and its possible rulers?
I did a little research and learned that in the novels Dabuon is the capital city of Ralteague and that there was some kind of conflict that resulted in deaths among the original royal family before the beginning of the actual series. So, for the purpose of this fanfic, I created my own vision of the royal family, perhaps relatives who claimed the throne after the original family tragically passed. In any case, it's always a pleasure to delve into the Slayers world and develop further on the workings of its countries just for pure fun! :)
Lastly, the idea of Vonzelle earning accolades in her social position for doing charity work is loosely based on the character of similar actions Lady Hyacinth D'Ysquith from a Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder. A hilarious musical to check out!
Now, what is to come next? Is Ralteague behind the disappearances of the missing cows? And what of this Prince Derek and this supposed land agreement? Stay tuned for the next chapter!
