In Which Florian Sees the Ironic Smile

January 9, 1172

"God, I just can't understand it." Florian finished what was left of the bottle's contents and placed it side-down on the counter, earning a disapproving glare from that insufferable Seoth. "After all these years, you finally get a chance to be your own man, and only nine days later, you're getting married again. I don't get it."

Shrugging, Falidor took a last sip of the goblet in front of him, then handed it back to the innkeeper. "You don't have to get it--although it's not that hard to get, really. I love her."

"Yes, but... nine days?" These nine days had been the only glimpse of bachelorhood poor Falidor had been granted since he was a boy of sixteen, and there was no way a man gave that up so easily--no matter how in love he was. Florian had to get to the bottom of this. "Look, you can tell me: is Raia's father making you marry her before the baby comes?"

On the groom-to-be's other side, Aldhein bowed his head and groaned; Falidor nearly choked. "Uh... what?"

Florian rested his elbow to the counter surface and leaned toward his friend, perhaps a little perversely triumphant--after all, he must have been right. "He is, isn't he?"

Falidor sighed. "No, he's really not."

"Err... Falidor?"

It was the baker, whom none of them liked, but who seemed unaware of the fact. Florian pulled himself back upright; he normally enjoyed tormenting Roveln, but on the eve of his friend's poorly-timed wedding, he was a little preoccupied, so he tried to ignore him. Falidor, on the other hand, decided to be polite. "Yes?"

"Uh, well, now that you're divorced and getting remarried again," the baker began, his hands fidgeting as his eyes fell to the floor, "I just figured I should tell you that I'm sorry for sleeping with your first wife."

Quiet--then, as if startled by his own daring, he took a few hasty strides toward the door and vanished from the range of the window.

Florian snickered. "He actually said it to your face? What a--"

"You know what?" Cutting Florian off, Aldhein pushed back his pint and turned to face Falidor, a resigned, tired sort of look in his eye. "Maybe that was stupid, but it was also rather noble. Falidor, I'm sorry for sleeping with your wife too."

Well... that was news to Florian. If Falidor's cocked eyebrow was any indication, this was the first he'd heard of this too. "You slept with Ailede?"

Grim, Aldhein nodded. "In my defense, though, this was before I met Alsina and it only happened the one time."

"All right..."

"Falidor?"

Seoth crossed to the other side of the counter and took the empty barstool to Florian's left, then looked past him and locked eyes with Falidor. "I'm also sorry for sleeping with your--"

"Oh for the love of God!" Florian slammed his fist against the counter with a force that rendered the entire inn mute. This would probably be the only bachelor party Falidor was ever going to get and he'd be damned if it was going to be ruined by someone other than him! "Am I the only person in this room who hasn't had sexual intercourse with Ailede Wythleit?"

Never before had he been forced to endure such an awkward silence. "Well then..."

Aldhein sniffed. "'Well then' indeed."

Florian cast a glare around the room, making sure that every soul in the room was aware of his annoyance before finally turning to Falidor--poor, embarrassed, laughingstock Falidor. "So... are you going to pound the stuffing out of all these sluts, or what?"

Falidor glanced toward Seoth, then Aldhein, then back to Florian. His head shook; his lips formed an odd shape, almost like an ironic sort of smile. "No--why bother? I'm happy now."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Seoth Hears Some Interesting Tidbits

August 31, 1169

"All right, Sextus, out with it!" Father Septimus demanded, pounding the counter-top with such force that Seoth made a mental note to inspect it for cracks later. He knew he was being somewhat paranoid, but it wasn't as if he hadn't had to pay for enough property damage after Florian had gotten it into his head to breed rabbits in the broom cupboard. That had been months ago, and Seoth had chased most of them out by this point, but every now and then a suspicious set of teeth marks on a table leg or banister that indicated the lingering presence of one or two of the little bastards. "Let's hear this so-called amusing anecdote of yours, and make it quick--there's a young lady back in my chapel who's just been begging to confess, if you catch my drift."

Seoth placed his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. The priests came to his inn every month or so, normally to get roaring drunk and shout some of the people's more intimate confessions for all to hear. Not for the first time, he wondered if it was morally wrong to refuse service to clergymen; he supposed that at the very least, they'd never been around at the same time as Florian.

"Yes, Sextus." Father Quartus took a swig from his pint, then drove it back down with a thud! Seoth cringed--why couldn't all the troublemakers bother some other innkeeper once in a while? "And hurry it up, because I have a funny story myself--you'll never guess what duke's secretary has been up to lately."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Father Sextus muttered back. "Both of his mistresses live in my parish, you know."

Quartus sniffed. "Not what I was talking about, but all right. Now, just tell your damn story."

"Fine, fine--keep your robes on!" Sextus reclined as best he could on the barstool and took a sip of wine. "Now, picture this: piss-drunk wedding."

Quartus groaned. Beside him, Father Quintus shook his head in an exasperated fashion. "Sextus, you live in Veldorashire--you get a piss-drunk wedding every week."

Seoth caught sight of a smirk on Sextus's face. "Aye... but this time, it isn't so much what happened as who it was, if you follow. So anyway, it was about three hours ago, and this pair stumbles into my chapel, and they're both--"

"--drunk out of their minds, their hair all disheveled, bits of clothing about to fall off and slobbering all over each other," Septimus finished for him. "Sextus, you tell this story every time I see you. Now, out with it--who got impulsively and half-wittingly shackled together until death do them part this time?"

His brother laughed. "Easy, I was just getting to that. Anyway, they barge right up to me and demand for--"

"We know, we know!" Quartus clapped his hand to his forehead and moaned. "Just tell us who it was!"

"Fine, I get it--you don't like my set-up." Annoyed, Sextus grabbed the goblet in front of him and drained it. "Anyway, it was his lordship and his maid."

Seoth frowned. He'd been an innkeeper long enough to have heard more than his fair share of crazy things, but this was beyond belief. Nora, that curvy, deliciously blunt little scamp who could drink any man under the table and had once broken a jar over the baker's head--Lady Veldora. The very idea was so absurd that his impulses were stumped for a proper reaction. Nora, Lady Veldora; there had to have been some mistake.

Septimus let it out an appreciative guffaw. "Ha! The king's not going to be very happy about that!"

"Indeed--why else do you think I let them get married when they were that drunk?"

"Why do you ever let people get married when they're that drunk?" Seoth inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Sextus shot him an annoyed glare. "Do you mind? I'm trying to have a private conversation here!"

Now would have been an excellent time for someone else--anyone else--to walk in, but knowing his luck, no one did. Seoth pushed his hair out of his face and shook his head. "A little loud to be all that private, but what do I know? I'm only the man who owns this place and sells you spirits."

"Damn right!" Sextus snapped before turning back to his brothers. "Anyway, I doubt they'll even remember this in the morning. They were absolutely soused stupid; I wouldn't be surprised if one of them dies in the night."

"Well, that would work out just fine for you--you'd get a fare for both a wedding and a funeral!" noted Quintus.

Satisfied, Sextus grinned smugly. "And to think, all the people believe that those fares go straight to the orphanage, when really they're just funding our underground cockfights!" Well, that was an interesting tidbit--if there was one good thing about these priests, it was that they often provided plenty of blackmail material. "But really, I don't know how I'm going to keep myself from laughing the next time I see either of them--they won't even be aware of their own marital status."

"But that happens with every drunk that gets married in your chapel in the dead of the night," Septimus pointed out. "There's a man in this shire unknowingly married to his cat, for God's sake! The fletcher's betrothed is already wed to that traveling salesman who sells the funny mushrooms, and even old Seoth is an unwitting bigamist!"

Seoth cringed in horror. "What?"

"Seriously--private conversation!" snarled Sextus. "What the hell's wrong with you, you great stupid eavesdropping lummox? Anyway, it's different this time--I mean, imagine being a lady and never even knowing it! And the king wanted Lord Severin to marry some other girl, so what if he marries her two? There'll be two Lady Veldoras!"

"Oy!" piped up Quartus suddenly from the end of the counter. "You know what would be absolutely hilarious?"

Quintus turned to face him, and odd sort of smile on his mouth. "What?"

"What if we told the king about this?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Octavius Lives for a Moment

January 15, 1157

Despite how happy he was to finally be around his brothers again, Octavius couldn't help but feel as though his wife was not enjoying herself. He knew that she wasn't particularly fond of his family, but it was her brother's wedding; he would have thought she might have at least been in a good enough mood to make an effort to be pleasant.

"Medea?" he addressed her as he broke away from a conversation with his brother Quartus and approached her. "Medea, are you all right?"

"What do you think?" she snapped back at him. "My brother, the earl, is marrying the daughter of a baron. A baron! I blame Lonriad for this, you know--if he'd taken the time to make a daughter with his wife instead of wasting it all with his pagan slut, then perhaps I wouldn't be the only woman in this damn kingdom who married beneath her!"

Octavius sighed. "Medea, be reasonable. You are a baroness in Naroni, and you have a daughter who will one day be queen."

"My daughter. What about me?" demanded Medea. "Has anyone ever given a rat's ass about my happiness? I don't think so! And to top it off, I'm stuck here on this balcony, with your despicable brothers. I hope they know I hate every last one of them--especially that awful Septimus."

"Guess what, Medea?" Septimus laughed; Octavius was pretty sure that he had overheard her. "I'm going to be your priest at Tetran!"

Octavius could only watch in horror as Medea's eyes bulged dangerously. "What?!"

"Octavius just asked me. Actually, all four of us are going back to Naroni with you; Quintus is already Roderick's priest, and Quartus and Sextus made some agreements with Dalston and Severin. Isn't that nice?"

"But you already have your parish at Valcria!" Medea hissed, all the while glaring at her husband.

Septimus chuckled. "Funny story. Apparently, telling the countess that I'd like to anoint her with my holy water is sexual harassment. You see--"

"SHUT UP!"

Planting a stinging slap across Octavius's face, she stormed off; he could almost swear there was smoke spewing from her orifices.

"Medea, where are you going?" he called after her as she opened the door and began to make her way inside.

"I'm going to go talk to my sister!" answered Medea huffily.

"But you hate your sister!"

"Your point being--?"

She didn't give him the opportunity to answer; in fact, her own statement was cut short by the slamming of the door behind her.

Oh, how Octavius envied his brothers! Tertius, for one, had three children and another on the way. Also, he and his wife Nearina positively adored each other; Octavius would have done anything for his wife to even tolerate him.

And then to top it off, his scruffy-haired brother's marriage had made him Count of Tagrien.

Secundus too had been elevated by his marriage; he was now Baron of Rexus. He and his wife Tivalia were also very much in love, and while they only had two children, no more than Octavius himself, they were the strongest, healthiest children Octavius had ever come across, and surely they would have more.

The oldest brother, Primus, had not been quite so lucky as the two after him, Octavius knew. He was Lord Felonis, as their father had been, and he had married the second daughter of the Count of Vaclria as per the wishes of both sets of parents. While they were not in love and did not pretend to be, it was obvious that the two did share a strong friendship, and they worked well together when it came to raising their three children.

And as for the others... well, they were priests. They didn't have any wives to hate them.

Following Medea's outburst, Octavius couldn't bring himself to talk to any of them, the brothers he envied so; he simply stood there, gazing off into the distance. For however long it was, his sense of time became displaced--each moment was an hour, and each hour, a mere second.

He needed a distraction. He was a patient man, but he felt he was almost at his breaking point; he could not go on like this. Not for much longer.

"Octavius!"

Octavius turned around to find a smiling, beautiful young lady standing behind him, her golden curls playfully restrained, and her green dress, though tasteful, revealing just enough to catch his undeniable interest.

Frantically, he searched his mind for her face; upon finding it, he could not believe he had ever forgotten. It had been ten years since he had been so graced with her presence in such close proximity. Whenever he thought of her, she was as she had been then, a laughing, playful girl of eight. Now, that girl was nowhere to be seen; suddenly, she was a woman.

"I was wondering if I would see you here," she continued, her grin as earnest as it had ever been. "I figured you must be coming, seeing as the groom is your brother-in-law. And look--we match! Our mutual sister-in-law wanted me to wear blue, since it would bring out my eyes, but I knew it would have been a bad idea to listen to her."

"Why, Princess Holladrin," Octavius addressed her as both breath and words returned to his mouth; oh, how ugly was his voice to follow hers, the croak of a toad to the sweet song of a nightingale! "It has been far too long."

She smiled in agreement; the curve of her lips may as well have been a second sunrise. "What are you doing out here by yourself, silly? So many people want to catch up with you."

"Are you among them, your highness?" he inquired of her--he hoped he wasn't being too daring in asking such things of this exquisite creature.

"Would I have come out here if I wasn't? Oh, Octavius, I've forgotten how delightfully funny you are! Anyway, how are you?"

Holladrin was so charming; he decided to be honest with her. "Well, your highness, Medea and I had twins, but she still hates me--publicly, I might add. Oh, but how awful I am, voicing all this! I feel guilty even thinking about it, to be honest, but I can't help it."

"Let me tell you a secret, Octavius," Holladrin began, leaning toward him to whisper in his ear. "The only reason a woman would ever hate a man as kind and generous and patient is you is the fact that deep down inside, she knows she will never be worthy of him."

Octavius laughed appreciatively. "Oh, your highness, you always did know just what to say to make me feel better! However, I must tell you that you are sorely mistaken--she thinks herself very much above me!"

"Well, in that case, then she will most definitely never be worthy of you," she assured him, "and please, none of this 'your highness' business. We have not seen each other in ten years, and I do not want you to think of me as your princess, particularly since I am no longer. We are friends, and there will be no such formalities between us."

Friends. He was simultaneously honored and disheartened; he had no idea why.

"Yes, your--er, Holladrin," Octavius corrected himself; he felt as though his lips were unworthy of forming the very syllables that made up her name. "Anyway, enough about my abysmal marriage; how are you?"

"Well enough, I suppose," she replied. "I've been periodically ill the past few years, but I find being here with everyone is making me feel much better. A few months ago, however, I might as well have been dead."

"You are more alive than anyone I know," Octavius told her, almost to assure himself; it pained him to imagine her ill, bedridden and pale as her mother had often been. If Holladrin did not rise, than neither did the sun.

"Thank you," she acknowledged him with a slight grin. "Oh, I wish you didn't live so far away now! I couldn't bear to have another ten years pass before we meet again."

"I assure you, I will not let that happen," promised Octavius. "Some day, I hope you will meet my children. I daresay my little Jeda will appreciate spending time with a lady such as yourself when she is a little older; her mother barely pays her and her brother Sparron any attention at all."

"The poor dears!" exclaimed Holladrin. "Oh, Octavius, I would love to meet your children; I shall have to visit you all in Naroni."

Octavius nodded. "I do hope you will."

"Oh, I shall!" she resolved. "That way, I could see where you live! And I could visit my brother, and my cousins Celina and Severin. Your wife is my cousin too, did you know? Her mother was my father's sister."

"I did know. It is amazing how two cousins can turn out to be so different."

"Oh, but it is not Medea's fault that she is so bitter!" Holladrin came to her cousin's defense. "All her life, she has been overshadowed by her prettier younger sister; I daresay if I had a younger sister, I would have turned out rather bitter as well."

Octavius shook his head. "There is no possible way any woman, sister or not, could be prettier than you."

"Oh, you're just saying that," she giggled, blushing slightly; her cheeks were a lovely shade of pink, so much more radiant and delicate than any pink that could remind him of Medea.

"I am saying it because it is true."

That lovely hue remained. "Why, thank you, Octavius. By the way, have you seen Geneva anywhere? I want to ask her about Roderick."

"She was with Alina, last I saw her," he informed her, "but before you go..."

"Yes?" pried Holladrin, a starlit sparkle in her blue eyes that he had never seen in any other.

Carefully, he placed his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Her mouth drew nearer as her hand perched atop his shoulder. Should he kiss her? He wanted to--oh, but it was sacrilege, to brush the lips of a goddess with his own! Besides, he was a married man, and a father, and surely he could not ruin this innocent girl for her own groom, whoever he would be.

"Thank you, Holladrin," he whispered into her ear as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I've been dead for several years now; thank you for letting me live for a moment."

NEXT CHAPTER: