DIS: Hey everyone! Sorry for the lack of update, but I haven't been in the Medieval mood lately, so I read a book...Er, quite a few books. (X.X) Okay, maybe ten, twenty. Anyway, I want to thank Chained and Torchered, DangerousandDemonicDevil, Cataracta, Eternal Eyes, Angel, Goddess of Dark Magicians, and Sailor Tiamat! I noticed that most of you immediately chose Vincent Hastings, and you may or may not be right. It's definitely not the king, but it might be Lord North. Think harder: Vincent doesn't know the Mazaki family that well, except in business a bit, but Lord North does. Damn, this story means using your brain! Lol. Here's the Ninth chapter, enjoy!

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Chapter Nine, Essex, Chelmsford, and Canterbury

There was nothing that satisfied him, it seemed. Lord North had watched day after day as the king showered gifts, honors, and even titles on Vincent Hastings. What the hell was his problem? And at the first festivities of Yuletide (Christmas), he had danced most of the time with the young Anzu Mazaki. It made his eyes narrow. Surely the Lord of Essex didn't intend on courting her? He knew by rumors that a Frenchman, the Earl of Canterbury, planned to wed and bed her. What kind of fool was Essex? He couldn't beat the Frenchman! He's supposedly more handsome, charming, and younger than Essex! Oh, but his defeat, Lord North thought, shall be my victory.

"Good God, man! You look murderous!" King George exclaimed in surprise. North turned to him, swallowing the lump in his throat. If the king knew of his rebellious attitude towards his favorite than just what would he say? What would he think? North suspected that he'd probably put him in the Tower...Or worse, behead him. At that thought, North sucked up his pride and gave a false smile that was surprisingly very convincing to his king.

"Just thinking of those Americans, sire," he replied. "I just cannot believe how seditious (disobedient) they have become! And once they had been our own people." Lord North gave a sigh of disappointment that could convince even the wisest man. This man, if dealt with wrongly, could prove to be a provoking enemy...And very challenging, at that.

"I couldn't agree with you more," the king replied with a furrowed brow, then he beamed. "I hear that the Earl of Avon shall be returning today, Lord North." North could only stare at him with a blank look. If he had his way, mutinous comments would be flying from his lips. "He'll be joining us for Yuletide, isn't that excellent?"

"...Very much so, my lord," was the dull response the King of England received.

X

Bakura looked around, wondering, Just where the devil am I? He was suddenly shoved and he felt soft covers and he wondered just what they were from. He shoved up with his elbows and saw that he was on a red-silken bed. But there hadn't been a bed there, so...? He was turned around and he blinked slowly, dumbly, as though he was drunk. "Anzu...Where are we?"

"Shh," she put a finger to his lips. "Don't you worry, Bakura, just leave it all to me."

"Leave...?" He swallowed as she climbed onto him...

X

There was a shrill cry from upstairs and Marik spit out his wine. A servant paused and stared upstairs.

"Is the master being attacked?" Someone gasped. Marik, along with other servants ran upstairs and burst into his bedchambers. Bakura was sitting up in bed, looking mournful. He looked at them almost in a daze and Marik wondered just what the hell had happened to him...Or what hadn't happened to him.

"Merde, 'twas just a dream!" Bakura muttered to himself, looking pissed then. Marik eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want? Get out!" The servants scrambled out, but Marik remained, wanting to find out what it was that had startled his "friend". Bakura glared at him murderously. "I said get out!" In a fit of rage, he flung a vase at him and the other male dashed out, shutting the door at the glass.

Well, someone is being a bitch this morning, the blonde thought, seething at having a vase thrown at him.

X

"So, what are we going to do about this Vincent Hastings?" Marik asked Bakura, once again eyeing the male. He just couldn't understand what had gotten him so worked up. It had obviously been a dream, but Bakura was hardly the person to cry over realizing the dream was, well...a dream. Plus, what would have gotten Bakura in a fit of rage? It made Marik wonder just what Bakura was hiding.

He saw the dirty scowl on his face and knew that one wrong move he made could be a reason to have Bakura leap at his throat. Obviously the Frenchman wanted to strangle him. He had the distinct impression that Bakura was eyeing him like fresh meat...Which wasn't very comforting to Marik, who knew his "opponent's" strength. The sad thing was that Bakura wasn't aware of his own power. Worse for Marik, then.

"How strong do you suppose he is?" Bakura inquired, suddenly suave and elusive like he always was. Marik thought it chary (suspicious) that he would suddenly ask such a question. When Bakura took a pistol out of his desk curiously, he knew what his intentions were and even though he agreed with them, he wasn't going to have murder charges on himself or Bakura.

"Are you stupid? Essex is the favorite of the king and if we even challenge him to a duel, the king will have our heads," Marik told him with a meaningful glare. Bakura glared right back at him, shoving the pistol in his coat pocket, looking indifferent. The other male's heart dropped as he realized that Bakura was in no mood to be told that he was wrong. He was out for blood and Marik preferred it not be his blood. Aw, who gives a shit. Let Essex die.

"Fin," Bakura said at last, scrubbing at his face wearily, looking like he was regretting his decision all ready. "Then what, pray tell, monsieur, are we supposed to do, eh?" Marik could tell that Bakura longed to shoot Essex right in the head. That, or plunge a sword through him, which the other male absolutely refused to let him do.

"Let us go say it quite flatly to Essex that Anzu is...ours," Marik ended it so lamely, because in truth, Anzu was neither of there's. However, they were willing to do anything to get Essex away from Anzu Mazaki. And it wasn't just because he was a seductive scoundrel, but also because they didn't trust him to be behind them. No doubt he'd came at me with a knife when I'm not looking, both were thinking.

"...Oui, it sounds an adequate plan," he decided with a nod.

X

"Yes?" The maid blushed at the two handsome males on the threshold. Her master, the Lord of Essex was handsome, but these two were younger and she had seen and heard of the two. The most roguish and seductive men in the ton. It made her shiver to think of the things the women spoke of about their "marital duties". "...Wh-what can I do for you, milord?" Bakura opened his mouth and starting to talk in French, making her blush more furiously, because the foreign language sounded so exotic and romantic on his tongue with his accent.

"...Okay, Bakura, shut up," Marik told him with a sigh. "We're here to see your Lord of Essex, Vincent Hastings." Was it obvious that this girl was a virgin or was it just him? He glanced once again at her prettily flushed face. Oh yeah, she was virgin all right. He added a small, seductive smile to make her bluster more and she colored. Bakura shot a mutinous look at him.

"O-oh! Well...Um, why don't you come in and I-I'll get m-my lord?" Bakura entered first, not even giving her a look, but Marik was more thoughtful and pinched her on her rear, making her squeak and giggle. Bakura rolled his eyes as his companion flirted more with the young maid, kissing behind her ear, teasing her.

"Is there a reason you are fondling my servant, my lord?" A voice came from the side. Bakura glanced to his left and found that Vincent Hastings himself was in the company of one of his serving women. Marik raised an eyebrow and pushed her away, coming to Bakura's side.

"We have something to discuss with you," Marik told him as seriously as he could without looking at the half-nude woman. His gaze flickered to Bakura, who was slightly shorter than him, and was furious at the fact that the Frenchman wasn't even one bit interested in the woman's body. In fact, his cold eyes were pinned on Essex, who had apparently decided that, indeed, this was a solemn matter. He dismissed the maid and bid them to enter the drawing room. "Brandy? Ale? Wine?"

"No, no, and no," Marik responded, sitting down, crossing a leg over his other. His eyes flickered once again to Bakura, who had taken up to leaning against the door like a watchman, not even bothering to answer Essex's polite offering. Well, isn't he a cold bastard? Marik thought with distaste.

"Won't you sit, Canterbury?" Essex inquired, using Bakura's title. His answer was an arched brow, which didn't please the other male one bit. "Mind telling me what this is about, then?"

"Anzu Mazaki," Bakura supplied, his arms crossed over his chest. "I think it's rather odd that you've suddenly taking a liking to her when you vaguely knew her family. Pray amuse us with your tales, Essex." Marik could only stare at Bakura in bewilderment. Was this really the same man?

"...You are a heartless foreigner, aren't you, sirrah?" Essex mocked him with a term, 'sirrah', which made Bakura's aloof manner increase and his hand twitch. Marik was aware that a weapon was concealed in his coat, but Essex didn't...Or did he? He wasn't so sure.

"I'm of better bloodline than you would ever be, Hastings," Bakura growled with a glower. "After all," he smiled coolly, "I wasn't forced to tend horses and clean up their manure, Hastings. I'm a full-blooded nobleman."

"Enough," Marik cut in as Essex was about to blow up. "We're not here to show who's inferior to who."

"Then what are you two here for?" Essex snapped, downing his brandy. "I don't take lightly to your playing with my maids and for some foreign ass to be criticizing me, Lord Chelmsford."

"It wasn't our intention."

"I bet."

"Bakura is correct, it is about Anzu Mazaki."

"Humph," Essex filled his cup with brandy again, taking a drink. "What about her? She's practically fleeing from you two. Probably hates being hovered over constantly."

"We don't hover, Lord Essex," Marik sneered at him with his own distaste of the male. "Now, I'd be wise to keep that tongue of yours in tact. I wouldn't want you to be blown to shreds by my Lord of Canterbury, here." Silence ensued and Marik nodded. "Good. As I was saying, we don't need you getting involved with her. After all, we wouldn't want you to, ah...Get in an accident." The implication was clear, but it wouldn't be Marik that would do it. Bakura might, but he was thinking along his people. People he could dispose of afterward.

"Oh?" Essex frowned. "And what do you two have to offer? You, Chelmsford, always sleep around with women without care and you, Canterbury, will probably leave her on the streets after you've had what you want."

"Untrue," Bakura responded without care. "I've stopped my habits for the sake of Anzu. After all, she needs a man to protect her...Who isn't going to have countless affairs," he shot a look at Marik, who glared. "And that goes for you as well, Essex. I see the way you flounce around, fucking any woman in your wake." Marik slapped a hand over his face, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"That is just about enough!" Essex roared, standing up. "Get out of my house and pray that you don't come in my path ever again, you sirrah!"

"Call me that again, I dare you!" Bakura exploded, forgetting English and continuing on in French. Essex obviously understood what he had said, because he looked offended and shoved them out of the drawing room, slamming the door in their faces.

"Oh, my!" The maid that had answered the door hurried to them. "Did you anger milord?"

"No," Marik answered, "he angered Bakura." The maid watched as Bakura stormed out of the manor, muttering French under his breath. He shrugged and turned to the maid with a mischievous grin. "So – " Essex's previous words cut through him like a knife, "You, Chelmsford, always sleep around with women without care."

"So...?" The maid prodded eagerly.

Damn you, Essex! "You had better tend to your master," he muttered bitterly, stomping out of the manor as well, ignoring the maid's disappointed face.

X

Anzu felt her shoulder collide with someone's and she fumed. "Hey, watch where you're going! We're not barbarians that live here!" It appeared to the last remaining Mazaki of York that people in England were becoming increasingly rude and self-centered. She should have guessed as much with the economy dropping like a thermometer during winter.

"What?" The male turned around and she recognized him as Marik. He blinked once, then rubbed his face. "Anzu...Beg pardon, I've had a rough morning." He didn't need to explain things. She would probably box his ears for not only for flirting with the maid, but also for threatening Essex.

"So I see," she commented, coming to his side, touching his arm. "Do you want to speak about it?"

"I doubt you would be pleased to here it," he grumbled, rubbing his temples, feeling the attack of a headache coming forward. "It's that damn Essex. Bakura and I went to see him and it all blew up in our faces." She grimaced, not wanting to confess that she rather liked Vincent Hastings. "He called Bakura 'sirrah' and mocked him and quite frankly, Bakura can stay patient for only so long. Anyone knows better than to mess with a man's temper."

"Poor Bakura, I can imagine how he feels! Being called 'sirrah'..." She sighed. "And where has he gone?"

"I don't know," he kicked at snow casually. "He had better be back here at Gloucester tonight or the king is going to be pissed..."

"I'm sure he will be. He wouldn't go all the way back home, would he? And defy the king?"

"I doubt it."

"I wonder why the Lord of Essex didn't stay at Gloucester? He didn't have to go back to his manor, did he?" Marik snorted in reply.

"He seemed pretty happy there, bedding every maid there was in there..." He saw her horrified expression and felt satisfaction settle in his gut. Good, maybe then she won't start loving that damned Essex so much then.

"What a sick pig!" She exclaimed, anger rising color to her cheeks. "Well, I guess all men are like that."

"I'm not sure how to take that..." he told her with a teasing scowl. She laughed and picked up some snow, molding it into a sphere.

"Good afternoon, my lord, dear lady," Lord North greeted pleasantly. Anzu dropped the snowball, all thoughts of smashing it into Marik's head forgotten. She beamed at Lord North, curtsying.

"My lord," both she and Marik addressed.

"How does the king do?" Anzu inquired with a bright smile. He returned the smile with his own that, even thought 'twas forced, looked as plain and bright as any.

"Quite well...Except he's throwing honors and gifts to that accursed Essex," North grumbled with glower. "Pardon me if I've offended you, miss." He actually could care less if he had offended her. Essex was no doubt going to be death, especially if the king suspected his plans against his favorite man in the ton.

"No, it's all right."

"Honors?" Marik repeated, frowning.

"Oh, yes," North said with a withering tone. "The bastard is as arrogant as ever and the king is favoring him more and more. I'm supposed to be the king's councilman, but he listens to nothing I say. He can't keep throwing things carelessly to Vincent Hastings! So much attention isn't right for one man! And our wealth is getting worst, but even so, the king rains money on the man."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

"Well," Anzu huffed, "since I'm being ignored, I'm going to get ready for dinner. I'll see you bother there. My lord...Marik."

"Hey!" Marik called after her indignantly as she giggled, waving. "Don't I deserve honor!"

"Mm, maybe," she answered, stretching out the last word. Marik muttered under his breath, turning back to Lord North who had a smirk on his lips.

"Cute girl, when's the wedding?" North asked curiously. Marik stared at him in bemusement.

"Wedding? There is no wedding!" North shrugged.

"I take it you're not too admirable of Essex, either?" He asked, returning to the matter at hands.

"I had an encounter with him today. It wasn't a pleasant one, I assure you."

"No encounter with Essex is a pleasant one, my friend," North told him, a far-away look in his eyes. "Especially when he's always banging his servants and other women when the king fully expects him to get married!"

"Does King George not hear the rumors or see Essex?"

"He might," North grumbled, "but Essex is the favorite of the king's and King George just doesn't want to admit that his favorite isn't perfect."

"He's going to have to sometime," Marik told him. North glanced at him and found that he liked the Viscount of Chelmsford. He knew more than he let people on to and North liked him for that. He had thought that all Chelmsford was good for was for sex, but apparently the viscount had a clever mind about him. Maybe he could confide in him about...? No, not quite yet. Not until he was sure that he could be trusted. After all, Chelmsford was known for being unfaithful.

"So, honestly, Chelmsford," North smiled, "what do you think of the Lady of York, Anzu? If that Frenchman can stop his habits, can you not?"

"...It's not as easy as it sounds."

"Granted," North agreed.

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DIS: Who is Earl of Avon? Who's the real cannibal, Lord North or Lord of Essex? Well, you'll just have to wait for the next chapter, unfortunately. Please review and tell me how it was! Remember, ideas are always greeted warmly! Ciao.