Capítulo 18: 'Are you hearing yourself right?'

Two weeks ago, was the last time Vance saw Amelia. He'd been busy attending as a proxy of the duchess on various occasions. Since the paper circulated in the capital about the alleged poisoning, people flocked to send letters and gifts to the duchess, but the old advisor had her heavily guarded for her own good. There's no saying what could happen next.

It's better to be prepared.

The old advisor took a deep breath and took his coat with him out of the Florence's manor in the capital. He only has to meet with Vernon around noon, and he'd be off to Osmea as soon as it's over if he wanted to arrive home early.

Waiting outside the manor gates was the carriage with the House Florence crest on the door and two of Vance's personal knights. Initially, there's five of them, but the old advisor tasked the other three to keep a close eye on Amelia—be his eyes and ears.

"Esdras, any news?" the carriage shifted as Vance took a step inside. He conversed with his knight shortly then closed the door after taking the letter handed to him.

Alone in the carriage, Vance heard his knight give instructions to the coachman then they were off. His destination? The outskirts of the Capital near Osmea, at a local tavern called the Sunvale in the town of Bellmount. Every single one of Vance's personal knights was smuggled slaves that Dehstun saved during his travels. They're knights trained by the old adviser himself.

The slowly changing scenery made Vance close his eyes. The recent events had him sleep-deprived. His aging body felt old a few days ago when he was forced to sit through a petty trial of a thief—if they were so eager to have him atone for his sins that he has to go through the rigorous process such as a trial, they should've just cut off his hands and be done with it; that was what Vance thought then.

Opening his eyes, he lowered his gaze to the letter in his hands with an overly familiar seal—that of the family he left back in Pradour. He's been expecting it for a while, considering that no action from the Order or the empire was noted when the news circulated of the duchess' state. Of course, this was because he and Duke Clement made sure to contain it as much as possible. But he did have a short meeting with the emperor, but he only asked about the duchess, and Vance answered only what was asked of him, then he was off.

'This is not good,' he whispered.

Looking at it again, Vance shook his head lightly and inserted the letter in one of his coat's secret pockets. He brought his arm over his head and placed it on top of his eyes to get some shut-eye before he must deal with the bear-like duke.

*****

It's been a few hours. According to Vance's pocket watch, it's a little over noon. Since some matters delayed his departure from the manor, the advisor thought he'd be late for the meeting, but it turned out he was a tad early. Pushing the door, a middle-aged man with a full beard greeted Vance with a nod as he wiped his beer glasses behind the counter. He's been coming to Sunvale now and then to meet certain people that he's become a regular at the place.

Sunvale's a small two-story tavern. The stone walls and patterned flooring matched with wooden furniture made it a comfortable place to stay during travels. About a year or two ago, the old owner's son took over and transformed the second floor to rooms that he rented for whatever purpose with only one rule: no killing—a bit shady, but it gets money in. Plus, the son's known to hire mercenaries pretending to be customers to regulate the crowd.

"The usual," Vance said when he approached the counter, and the owner took the small pouch the advisor laid on the counter as payment. Wiping his hands on his apron, the man opened a small drawer and handed over a key. Then, Vance nodded and left to head upstairs.

Though sturdy, the stairs creaked a little every step of the way, as well as the floorboard on the second floor. Any movements made sounded to alert occupied rooms that someone arrived. It's the reason why so many secret meetings happened in Sunvale. Also, what Vance liked about the place was that the stables were located a few blocks away. There were a few routes that one could take to the tavern to minimize being followed or observed. It's a perfect getaway place for a secret meeting or something like that.

Checking for any person in the hallway, Vance turned the knob on the door. Inside the room was a round table big enough for five chairs, a drawer with an empty flower vase on top of it, and another small rectangular table meant to place the beverage and food.

As soon as he's inside, Vance checked for any crevices in the walls, and when he was satisfied, he comfortably sat until someone called out from the other side of the door. It's a servant who brought in some refreshment; when he was done, he bowed his head and left quietly.

Vance took out his pocket watch again and sighed. He's been waiting for almost half an hour already. Vernon wasn't one to be late for a meeting; something must've had him occupied.

Not long, the advisor darted his eyes to the door as he heard overly familiar footsteps making a sound from the stairs. Every meeting he's had since he came to Osmea was held in Sunvale. As long as it's a regular at the tavern, he's sure to be able to identify to whom the footsteps belonged.

"About time," he said as the bear-like duke slightly lowered his head when he entered.

"Some things just needed urgent attention; I thought I'd have to send someone over. Lucky that I was able to get out of it." Vernon answered, pulling back the hood of his cloak.

Vernon Mulford's around two years younger than Vance. The two knew each other through the emperor when delegates from the empire of Pradour arrived. Vernon was still an heir then but compared to Vance, who came from an empire that dealt with a lot of wars over ownership of natural resources, the duke seemed like a baby in the advisor's eyes. Only at that time, he wasn't an advisor but someone to guard one specific person—Priscilla Salwyn, Amelia's mother. At the time, Vance didn't care about the other delegates or the treaty between Creador and Pradour. He's been in too much war to even care about petty things such as treaties and relations with others.

"I got word that Arabella arrived home last night and that she's got some news with her. But let's hear yours first."

"Straight to business, aren't we?" Vernon kidded as he grabbed the sweating glass of beer on the table. "Let me gather my thoughts for a while, 'kay?" Vance shook his head and massaged his temple.

"Oh, right," Vernon swallowed his drink and did a sigh of relief. After wiping his mouth, he proceeded to say, "Have you heard about the engagement?"

Cold eyes stared at the duke, and he teased Vance in return.

"I'm waiting for Lia to tell me herself," he answered in a low voice before he raised the glass back to his mouth. Seeing the leaking aura of madness from the advisor, Vernon grabbed the liquor bottle and poured Vance some refills.

If the Duke of House Clement thought he could keep that fact a secret, he's not doing an excellent job at all—or he trusted his people too much. It would be a pain on Vance's back if Alexander overlooked something and bring Amelia with him to ruin. The law prohibiting rulers of a duchy from marrying one another was set to prevent a union of the duchy that could overthrow the balance of power where the crown might be at a disadvantage—it's common knowledge.

Plus, they'd need the blessing of the emperor for it to happen, and Vance didn't think Augustine would hand over the duchess to Clement—or to anyone, matter-of-factly—that easily.

"When did you know about it? And how?"

"Well, I have eyes and ears everywhere. I'd like to ask you the same thing."

"I also have eyes and ears everywhere."

The advisor chuckled and gulped another glass. To be exact, he knew about that news from Gustav, a member of the Duke's Council of Elders. He and the mercenary knight knew each other from way back, even before he set foot on the soil of Creador. Gustav's group of hired mercenaries once joined Vance and his army on the battlefield. He made an impression on the advisor because of his rough voice and his accent. He's about as big as Vernon; hairy and a force to be reckoned with. The last information he received from the mercenary was that Clement managed to think of a way to get the emperor's approval somehow. It might not be the friendliest way, but none of what's going to happen was meant to become friendly with the crown anyway.

Not now that Augustine has sent a tiara as a birthday gift to the duchess, not to mention offering to host and use Kaerndal Palace as the place for the celebration.

"A little birdy also told me about the tiara sent to Lia," Vernon leaned over the table with both hands around the glass.

"You have spies in our palace?" the advisor's voice slightly rose. His eyes were in between rage and confusion. He's made sure that the staff had been thoroughly checked and their history and family investigated.

"Oh, Vance, let's not pretend that we don't have our own spies everywhere." Vernon waved his hand and slowly leaned back. His elbows propped on the arm of the chair with only his hands together.

The old advisor grew silenced as his eyes locked in another direction. He grabbed the bottle again and poured himself some, which he finished in one go, and there was a thud when the glass hit the table.

"I won't let that happen; I promised Priscilla. Being away from the duchess, I had some time to think and organize my plans. That's why though I am utterly against Lia marrying Clement, I have no choice but to trust him."

"So, you're letting Lia marry him?"

"The advantages weighed the disadvantage. Plus, I have my own trick under my sleeve to make the emperor give them his blessing." Vance looked past the duke because he didn't want to see what expression he got on. "Also, if it's him, I don't think I'd have a problem with it."

"If you're going to trust him, you better tell him everything then."

"No… not everything. The more people who know, the more the truth's going to come out. And I don't want to see Lia so lost again."

Vernon could almost see the bottom of the bottle when he picked it up. He was supposed to pour Vance another glass, but he seemed to already be under the influence. For someone like Vance Thomson, no one would ever think that he couldn't hold his own liquor—but that's just how he is. Things happening one after the other must've been stressing him out lately for him to let himself get drunk, the duke thought.

"Lia needs more people who'd understand her and be there for her, Vance." The duke said, setting aside the alcohol away from Vance. "And I think it's high time that Lia knows that truth too."

"The meeting's about that bastard George Walton's whereabouts, not about what good and what's not for our duchess."

"Aren't you spoiling your gran—" the duke did not even finish his sentence when an empty glass came flying straight past him, hitting the wall; its smashed pieces glistened as it rained down the floor.

Vernon flinched, his wide eyes lingered on the shattered pieces of glass before they shifted to look at the old advisor, back to the pieces of glass, and, again, back to Vance. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, there was only silence. The duke didn't look away as he repeated his interrupted words with a heavier tone, "Aren't you spoiling your granddaughter too much, oh Grand Duke Vance Salwyn of Pradour?" the duke inhaled sharply and threw a clean cloth from the nearby drawer to Vance, "Wipe your shirt, and act your age!"

The glasses rattled as Vance's heavy hand landed on the wooden table. He took the cloth Vernon threw at him, rolled it into a ball, and threw it back to the duke.

"I told you not to call me that!" the advisor's voice was louder than he allowed himself. "I've turned my back on that life. I am no longer a Salwyn."

Vernon just stared blankly at the enraged advisor as he swayed slightly from suddenly being on his feet. Vance placed his hands on the table for support until he was able to sit again. The only time he allowed himself to submit to alcohol was when his younger sister, Amelia's grandmother, died giving birth to Priscilla, the duchess' late mother. The advisor promised his sister that no matter what happened, he will protect Priscilla at all costs. But since the one he swore to protect with his life went and succumbed to death before him, he made it his life's next mission to protect the only living family he cared about—his own blood relative who spent her life growing up thinking he was only her father's loyal secretary.

"Are you hearing yourself right?" Vernon asked, tidying the table of the glass that could shatter next.

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