2nd of the Verdant Rain Moon
Claude was still unsure how the day was supposed to have made sense. His ears were still ringing from Count Gloucester and Goneril's shouting match.
Duke Riegan had forced Claude to sit in on the roundtable twice before, but that had been at a distance, pretending to be an aide. This time, his grandfather had forced Claude to play his mouthpiece, up close and personal, with no chance to duck out or stare at the wallpaper when things got tedious.
It had begun so simply. Claude had entered the meeting chamber, a modestly decorated room with a large table surrounded by portraits any true-blooded member of the Leicester Alliance would recognize. Claude thought he could maybe name two of them. He blamed his Almyran education, which labeled them all cowards who wouldn't leave their castle walls for a real fight like real warriors. Count Ordelia, a short balding man with light purple hair, had been sharing a quiet laugh with Margrave Edmund, a man with oily turquoise hair and who wore dark merchant robes with a prominent Seiros pendant. Something about a woman, a duck and floating wood. Count Gloucester, the spitting image of what Lorenz would look like in twenty years with the same haircut, had politely offered to serve Duke Riegan a bergamot tea, which Claude's grandfather had graciously accepted, saying the medication for his illness needed something to force it down. Harold Goneril, a bald man with a polished pink mustache and Hilda's fashion sense had surprised Claude (though no one else seemed shocked) by showing up in Duke Holst's stead, explaining that his son had an unfortunate accident with a rake and would be unable to make the meeting.
Claude cleared his throat, smiled, and called the room to order. The roundtable started with what should have been a quibble over late grain shipments from House Ordelia. The count hemmed and hawed before blaming it on banditry. Count Gloucester said he was too busy dealing with overly ambitious minor nobles spurred by a lull in Almyran raids to patrol the roads. Goneril had shrugged and said he didn't have the men to spare from the Throat lest said Almyran raids start up again. All eyes turned to Claude and he responded with a cheery demeanor no one believed, and the indisputable fact that none of the routes in question crossed Riegan territory. Margrave Edmund demanded a lower price for the next shipment of grain along with a refund for the currently below standard shipment. Count Ordelia squawked, refusing to pay the price for something that wasn't his fault. Goneril objected, loudly. On and on it went. The roundtable had earned its name, but refused to take a hint and sit down. Duke Riegan coughed, and gave Claude an eye.
Claude spoke up and asked who was going to take charge of eliminating the bandits, the source of the problem. Count Ordelia scoffed, saying the attacks had been far from his territory and as such were not his responsibility. Goneril quoted decades-old precedent that put blame on whoever sent the goods. Count Ordelia countered with a century-old precedent blaming whoever let bandits fester. Count Gloucester blamed Lord Acheron, the weathervane himself. But then Margrave Edmund revealed that the little toad just happened to be in Derdriu, and was found, dragged into the meeting room, and questioned with what Claude could only characterize as orchestrated speed. After half an hour of Counts Edmund and Ordelia waving contracts at everyone, Count Gloucester flashing what were supposed to be subtle looks to the little toad, and Claude badly pretended to be impartial mediator, Acheron was set to crack.
And then the rock stupid twat brought up the bootstrap argument.
Claude wasn't sure how Acheron had learned about the damned thing. He was quite certain all the lords had sworn to never speak of it again. But the cat was out of the bag now, and the room very nearly exploded. Goneril's cheeks swelled and his face turned cherry red. Margrave Edmund started shouting about defecting to the kingdom. Counts Gloucester and Ordelia were seconds away from strangling each other, convinced only the other could have let the secret slip. Duke Riegan was somehow dragging out desperate, empty promises from the human shaped weathervane with nothing more than a stare and a twitching eyebrow.
It took fifteen minutes for Claude to drag Acheron out alive and in one piece while the roundtable cooled their heads, a task not made any easier by Count Gloucester threatening to hunt down Acheron with Thyrsus. It took another hour for everyone to agree to hire the Golden Deer to clear out the roads, Count Gloucester dragging his feet the most. Something about local monsters being dangerous for Lorenz- whatever it was made Duke Riegan seethe, muttering something about Claude's deceased uncle. Claude had heard how the former heir had died, but never directly from his grandfather, and figured it would be a subject best left untouched. The schedule was already full of contentious issues, and another would only weaken his position.
Then Claude had made the mistake of looking at the list of things the roundtable still had to discuss today. His groan was no louder than a whisper, but he could still feel every pair of eyes turn towards him. It wasn't even noon.
Count Gloucester seized his chance and blamed Riegan leadership. Duke Riegan would not abide the slight, and glared at Claude.
Claude didn't want to waste any more time on chest-pounding.
Duke Riegan would not allow his heir easy things.
In the end, their grandfather and son not-shouting match wasted another twenty minutes.
He wasn't sure when the meeting finally ended, but from the position of the stars and the moon, Claude guessed that it was nearly midnight. He sat next to his grandfather in a charming little balcony atop the Riegan mansion, idly picking at some food. And Duke Riegan, the smug prick, had the nerve to sit there with Count Ordelia, a greasy prick, eating and drinking as if they hadn't just come out of one of the most exhausting wastes of time anyone had ever had to endure.
"So boy, I hear you enjoyed yourself?" Oh. Judith had invited herself to the table, sipping a glass of wine with a smile only someone who would never have to deal with that hell again could give.
"Ha. Ha." Claude's eyes narrowed. "Laugh it up now, Judith- "
"Lady Judith." Both his grandfather and Judith said in unison. Duke Riegan didn't even look up from his conversation with Count Ordelia.
Claude counted to three. "…Lady…Judith. But next time, you get to suffer along with me."
Judith put down her glass. "Oh I know. But afterwards, I never have to step foot in that damn hall again. You get to spend the rest of your life running in and out of it."
Count Ordelia made a show of snorting. "It is so good to see you Lady Judith. I had wanted for pompous windbags at the roundtable. Without your hot air, these meetings simply aren't the same."
Judith raised her glass. "Count Ordelia. I do so miss your gentlemanly company. I've been able to make do by getting things done for the alliance, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm out of practice with my roundtable gossip." She downed her wine in a single gulp before slamming it back down. "Are you lot still called the stone-bleeders, or do you prefer 'the roundtable, unable' these days?"
"I've grown partial to the latter." Duke Riegan said dryly, downing his medication with a grimace.
Count Ordelia sneered. "Names I wear proudly next to what my subjects said when you were in our ranks." He leaned back in his chair so he could look down his nose at Judith. "'Standing general, standing army, ready to bow.'"
Judith was unmoved. "I remember you deciding that you could intervene in the Hrym rebellion without official backing from the roundtable."
"And I can't help but recall your unofficial promises to aid me that dried up as soon as they were actually needed." Count Ordelia spat. "Though I suppose I can only blame myself for that. Trusting someone on martial affairs who was so clearly unfit so clearly…" The count's eyes ground down Judith's body, sneer growing every centimeter. Judith made no attempt to hide her gender from such scornful eyes, which only seemed to bleed more venom into Count Ordelia. "…Crestless."
"Hey, listen Count-" Claude began to speak, but Judith waved her hand.
"Relax, boy." Judith rocked back in her seat. "It's roundtable tradition to blame others for your failings. You grow a thick skin after a while."
Count Ordelia's eyes narrowed. "Something you have not grown unpracticed at in your absence from our gatherings."
"And so, I propose we move on to the point of this meeting." Judith kicked her feet onto the table. Claude wasn't sure if he was supposed to be surprised by his grandfather's lack of scolding. Perhaps even the mighty Duke Riegan had given up trying to deal with Judith. "How's Lysithea doing?"
"I will not-" Ordelia's eyebrows rose. "Are you threatening my daughter? I should have you skewered for such an-"
"Please, Ordelia. Some of us have morals." Judith crossed her arms and looked directly into Count Ordelia's eyes. "It's just that there are these odd rumors floating about. Something to do with her Crests."
"What about my daughters Crests- " Count Ordelia's tongue slipped. "What- I- what about her Crest?"
"Not Crest. Crests. Two." Judith said. "Spy networks pick up the oddest things."
Count Ordelia stared. His eyes turned to Claude, before he seemed to shake himself, and snapped back to Duke Riegan. "What is your threat? What do you want?"
Duke Riegan's voice was calm and measured, pausing as he ate vegetables. "I threaten nothing and no one. Lady Judith has been assisting me with our intelligence operations." He paused again to set down his utensils, looking at Count Ordelia with a quiet sternness. "Your house's tragic loss of children those short few years past came up." Duke Riegan subtly leaned forward, looming down on a man of equal height. "The empire is responsible, correct?"
Count Ordelia went very still, his stare unblinking. He licked his suddenly very chapped looking lips. "…I…They made me swear not to tell. Or they would…" Count Ordelia swallowed.
Duke Riegan nodded with a solemn dignity. "I know the pain of losing children, count. Your suffering is my own."
Count Ordelia's face tore. Claude turned to look at Judith. She had removed her feet from the table, now sitting in a quiet and composed manner. Claude opened his mouth, but Judith just shook her head.
After a few minutes of silence, Count Ordelia composed himself and spoke again. "Why are you telling me this?"
Duke Riegan nodded at Judith. Count Ordelia's head turned. Judith put forth an air of quiet importance. "Our spies have received word that a similar fate has befallen the imperial throne."
Count Ordelia's eye widened. "That illness that swept through their royal family- but it couldn't have- "
Claude coughed, drawing the count's attention. "Princess Edelgard has pale white hair. I didn't think much of it at first, but…" He let his words drag out as his eyes glanced towards Count Ordelia's dark purple hairline.
Count Riegan appraised Claude through his spectacles before continuing. "Furthermore, we have good information that the empire is planning to enter a state of war. And I can promise you, your daughter will not be the only…" Duke Riegan bit his lip. "…Crestless child if they have their way."
Count Ordelia swallowed, and his knuckles whitened. "I-" his breath caught, and he leaned into the table, and began to exhale slowly. Finally, he looked up at Duke Riegan, his face at once a mess and fully composed. The words fell from his lips:
"I understand."
Count Ordelia stumbled off, a tremble in his step. Even Derdriu's waterways seemed silent. Claude bit his lip, feeling something form on his tongue, but crumble in the same breath.
"Well." Duke Riegan sniffed, and took a sip from his glass. "Today was a success."
Claude would have collapsed if he were not already sitting. "Really?"
"Yes." Duke Riegan poured himself another glass. "You performed adequately at the roundtable. We now have a day to rest while Count Gloucester and Goneril nurse their hangovers, and I know Ordelia well enough to say that he will come to our conclusion in that time. On the fourth we will present our case."
"What if Ordelia talks before then? He-"
Duke Riegan snorted. "-Knows better."
"Huh," Claude reached across the table to pick up the wine bottle, before his grandfather smacked it away. "Hey, ow!"
"That is medication for my medication, boy. Get your own."
Claude gave a long-suffered stare to Duke Riegan, who did not budge. He turned to Judith, but she had already picked up the only other bottle of alcohol on the table and chugged it. Claude fell back into his chair and groaned.
"Is this what Fódlan politics is like? Secret meetings to make sure the real meetings have fraction of a chance to go smoothly? Talking out of both sides of your face? Not throwing Acheron to the nearest pack of hungry wolves?"
"There are some days I truly believe I left the roundtable voluntarily." Judith kicked her feet back onto the table. "Get used to it boy. This is going to be the rest of your life."
"Ugh." Claude tried to smother his face. "Oh. Wait." He made an effort to straighten his posture and almost succeeded. "Did you two get my letter? About Edelgard's weird mood?"
"Yes." Judith said. "How that girl really fits into all of this is a puzzle. I doubt anyone would be much happy with what was done to her family. There may be some strings to pull in our favor."
"Lady Judith is correct. It is yet another point we will discuss in the next roundtable, and some of our spies in Garreg Mach will be returning their reports by tomorrow." Duke Riegan poured himself another glass. "Only fools rush in to the dark blindly. We will not be caught unaware at this juncture." He turned to Claude and his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Oh, and if you so much as think about showing up hungover, I will be without an heir come noontime."
Dorothea gripped Ferdinand's hand as the two made their way through the shadows of the sewers.
"D-Dorothea, please, It isn't that dark, we don't have to hold- "
"Oh hush Ferdinand. You would wander off lost without me here." Dorothea snapped. "You won't have anyone gossiping about holding hands with a commoner, I assure you."
"That's not- ugh." Ferdinand sighed. "Let's just get this over with."
Soon enough, the dark passageway opened up to a larger room, and hushed whispers of people echoed along the halls along with flickering candlelight. A small rundown market came into view. The stalls seemed to carry everything from old cooking equipment to faded clothing, and even a stall carrying stale-smelling bread. People moved slowly, not seeming to pay any mind to the two Garreg Mach students in their midst, save for one scruffy looking man whose eyes followed the duo's every step. Dorothea watched Ferdinand make a point not to keep eye contact.
"I don't like this." He muttered. "This place gives off a dark aura- "
"Hey, mister!" a child wearing old clothes and a faint sheen of grime bound into Ferdinand, quickly grabbing hold of Ferdinand's empty hand. "Who are you? Watchya doing down here? You're a student, right?"
"W-well, yes I- "
"Sorry kid, can't help you." Dorothea shot look. Ferdinand's brow wrinkled.
"Dorothea, I know what I said, but there is no reason to be so rude-"
"Yeah, your girlfriend's a big meanie!" The child said hotly. "I just came to say hello to you two, and already she's trying- "
"Your hand is halfway into Ferdie's wallet." Dorothea deadpanned. Ferdinand's head swiveled downward, just in time to catch the child's hand halfway out of his pocket. A nervous grin crept its way onto the child's face.
"Sorry, it's just I've got this habit-"
"Scram!" Dorothea shouted, and the child disappeared into the dark alleys.
"…You figured out his plan in a few seconds?"
"It's what you do when you don't know magic or have a Crest like me and you."
"You seem…well versed in this."
Dorothea snorted. "I very nearly was that kid. Come on."
Ferdinand opened his mouth, and then shut it. "Is that why It feels like you and Hubert keep robbing me blind?"
Dorothea smiled in the gloom. "A lady never tells." She then tugged Ferdinand away. As the two walked further into the makeshift town, more noise began to echo through the halls. Dozens of people made their way through the streets, some young, some old, and always poor. Some eyed Ferdinand with suspicion, others eyed Dorothea with a look she had long learned to ignore. The two found themselves at a crossroads, a quiet herd bustling between stalls and small passageways.
"Well, we're here." Dorothea said as she looked around. "Any idea how to find this Constance girl?"
"Unfortunately not. I can't imagine any place down here she'd want to be seen in, much less live near." Ferdinand chewed his lip. "Constance was always a bit…"
"Stuck up?"
Ferdinand frowned. "Well bred."
Dorothea scoffed. "Same thing, really." She sniffed, and her head turned. "I know that smell."
Ferdinand tasted the air, before covering his nose with a handkerchief. "That's- It couldn't possibly be alcohol."
"But it is." Dorothea gripped his hand. "Come on. A bar should be a good place to collect information."
As the smell of cheap spirits grew, so did a quiet murmur passing through the halls. The sparse candlelight became brighter, until the two passed a mess of bricks and broken mortar and entered a surprisingly clean brewery. A number of patrons sat milled about amongst each other, with what looked like a few games of chance being played in a corner. Brass brewing vats were polished to gleam in the candlelight, though the smell of the beer being brewed suggested more than a little of the metal polish had found its way inside the vats.
Dorothea looked around. "I don't see a girl with blue and blond- have I ever told you that nobles have the most bizarre hair colors? Are you certain she didn't dye her hair?"
"Positive." Ferdinand rubbed his nose. Dorothea imagined it was to keep it from curling. "We should ask the barkeep if he knows anything."
A few heads turned as the two made their way to the bartender, though no one stood. A few eyes lingered on Dorothea as she passed. At the countertop, Ferdinand rapped his hand on the wood gently but firmly. The bartender, who had been cleaning beer mugs, looked up. "Hey." He eyed Ferdinand, turned to Dorothea, and lingered.
Dorothea felt Ferdinand's fingers grow rigid. "The cad. Can he truly sink so- "
"Focus." Dorothea smiled at the bartender. "Hello mister! How's your brew?"
"Fine, just fine." The bartender's eye finally flickered back to Ferdinand. "So daddy cut you off?"
"I-I beg your pardon?"
"It's the only reason kids like you wander down here. The run out of money for the smuggled booze topside, so they come down for the cheaper stuff." The bartender sniffed. "So how much you got?"
Ferdinand coughed into his hand. "I-I'm actually not looking to purchase beer, or anything else for that matter. I'm- "
The bartender turned back to his mugs. "Can't help you."
"Excuse me sir, but if you would only listen- "
"Ferdie, shut up." Dorothea pushed him aside. "Look mister. Ferdie has some coin, and he'd be willing to slip it over the table if you'd just help us find someone."
"Well, now." The bartender turned back to the two, still wiping down a mug. "I do see a lot of people pass by. Who're you looking for?"
Ferdinand smiled, looking encouraged. "She's a young girl, about my age- "
"Nope." The bartender looked back down at his mugs, picking up another to clean. "Every noble in a thousand-mile radius is looking for that girl. You're out of your league, kids."
"What? No, we aren't looking for the worm girl!" Ferdinand pleaded. "I'm looking for Constance von Nuvelle! Have you seen her?"
"Eh." The bartender shrugged. "I see a lot of people."
"Yes, but have you seen-"
"Ferdinand." Dorothea elbowed his ribs.
Ferdinand opened his mouth, closed it, pulled out a reasonable sum of gold, and slid it to the bartender who quickly pocketed the money.
"Your boyfriend is pretty well trained, girly. Ever think of renting him out? I could use some hands that don't have the shakes down here."
"He's not my boyfriend." Dorothea said evenly. Ferdinand nodded. Dorothea smiled at the bartender. "He's my coin-purse." Ferdinand slumped.
"Heh." The bartender smiled back. "Never heard of a Constance."
"But…" Ferdinand bit his lip. "Perhaps she's using another name. She has very distinctive hair color- blonde and blue. Have you seen anyone…?"
The bartender shrugged. "I see a lot of people with weird hair. Bastard children of inbred nobles."
Dorothea kept her pleasant smile. "Maybe you just need a little something to jog your memory."
"Maybe." The bartender's hand slid across the table, inching towards Dorothea. "Want to make me an offer?"
"Ferdie has a few more coins."
The bartender leaned closer. "Money only goes so far. My memory needs something more...visceral."
"Well…" Dorothea's fingers curled her hair as she bashfully looked away. "I am very concerned- "
"Dorothea!" Ferdinand shouted. "You cannot possibly be considering- Ack!"
"I know what I'm doing, Ferdinand." Dorothea hissed out of the side of her mouth as she ground her boot over his toes, before turning back to smile at the barkeep. "Well, mister, I can't help but think what you're asking for should be done in private."
The bartender snorted a laugh. "Sure kid. But do you know what you're getting into? I'm going to need something…rough."
"Really?" Dorothea rested a finger on her lip. "Like what? I'd just do anything to help Ferdie find his friend…"
The bartender bent towards Dorothea, stopped to look at Ferdinand who was glaring daggers, smirked, and then whispered his demand loud enough for both to hear.
"Oh," Dorothea blinked as innocently as she could. "I suppose-"
There was a loud thwack, and the bartender crashed into the back wall, unconscious.
"Brute! Cur! How dare you ask that of a young lady!" Ferdinand shouted; his fist outstretched. "By all the saints and the goddess! I have never heard an act so foul!"
Dorothea breathed in, then out. The shouts and rustling from the patrons behind them was already starting. "Ferdinand."
He blinked. "Yes, Dorothea?"
"You're an idiot."
Bottles flew through the air, and Dorothea dived behind the countertop. The drunken patrons shouted and hollered, thrashed and crashed, bludgeoned and brawled. A few of the more sober men attacked Ferdinand, the reason they wouldn't be able to buy alcohol for the rest of the night, while others defended the nobleman, the reason they wouldn't have to buy alcohol for the rest of the night. Then the gamblers bought in, and the drunkards found themselves caught in the middle.
Dorothea had always found the time altering effects of alcohol odd. Not just when under the influence, but also when you were surrounded by drunk people. She was clutching a chair leg, having knocked a man unconscious moments ago, and entirely uncertain how she had gotten to where she was. Ferdinand stood beside her, wielding a broomstick. Around them, a drunken brawl raged.
"Not to worry, Dorothea. I shall not allow any of these brutes to harm you." Ferdinand said with a smile. "Though I did not intend for this evening to become so chaotic, I shudder to think what would have happened had that scoundrel at the bar had his way."
Dorothea's eyes narrowed. "Ferdinand, you moron. You ruined everything."
His face drooped. "W-what?"
"The bartender wasn't going to lay a finger on me!" Dorothea shouted. "We were going to go into a backroom, he would let his guard down, and then I would beat the answers out of the pig! What the hell do you think was going to happen?"
"I-but-"
Dorothea paused to knock another drunk unconscious. "But nothing! I've been dealing with men like him for over a decade. I don't need you to pretend to be my knight in shining armor!"
"But you deserve more, Dorothea! I can't let scoundrels like him just-"
"Oh please, you're only interested in protecting us fragile common woman because Professor Byleth humiliated you at the start of the year!" Dorothea barked out a laugh over Ferdinand's protest. "I've long since learned to deal with men like him. And he's far from the worst offender. He could have been a noble."
Ferdinand's brow curled. "Why do you hate the nobility- "
"HEY!" A voice bellowed, and the bar fight halted. Everyone looked up. A man with slicked back hair, an open shirt, and the muscles to go along with it stood at the bar's doorway, surveying the damage. "Who started this?"
All fingers pointed at Dorothea and Ferdinand. The man laughed. "It's been a while since a student stirred up this much trouble." He rolled his neck, cracked his knuckles, and stepped forward. "I'll be sure to make this quick."
To Be Continued -
This chapter turned into a monster, so stay tuned. Part two should be up within a week. But while we're here at chapter 20, thanks to everyone for 47 reviews, 156 favorites, and 40K+ views! I'll keep at it!
As always, thanks to Dox for beta reading!
Misogyny and politics are the words of the day for part one and two of this chapter. I'll hope to stick the landing next part.
There is a great scene in chapter 55 of TheScreamingViking's N7 SOLDIER where the Shinra executives just scream at each other as their world collapses around them. Part 1 if this chapter is a tribute/inspired by/blatantly stolen from that scene. I believe the technical term is Homage.
Edit: Dealing with technical difficulties now. Something on 's side has been screwing up.
