Capítulo 43: 'Let’s get to business'
"They aren't here yet?" The young duke looked back at Vance, who asked Vernon, his chair making a slight noise as he dragged it away from the table.
"We did take the shorter route. They'd be here in a few minutes." Vernon answered, untying his own cloak, and walking towards a small table where wine and ale bottles lined up neatly at one side. "I'd like to have something stronger, but being drunk in a tower isn't really ideal." He started kidding again, and Alexander couldn't find it in him to respond.
Refreshed and finally relaxed, Alexander grabbed the glass of wine handed to him by the advisor after he got himself one. He looked down at it and twirled the contents a few times before taking a whiff and sipping a little. Looking at a distant clock, it was already a little over eleven in the morning. No wonder the young duke's stomach's been growling faintly. He wished that the other members would come soon so they could be done and over with it.
Alexander didn't know who was coming. Vernon only mentioned the letter that stated, 'The number of people wanting to pluck the rose from the garden has been increasing as of late. We should discuss how to prevent this as soon as possible.'
And by rose, it meant Amelia.
The Order of the Void doesn't really interact with each other. Even Alexander, the second highest-ranking member after Vernon, has no idea who else was involved. Vernon might have an idea, but his lips are tightly sealed. The primary purpose of the Order was to keep the peace of the empire. To ensure that if there were any disputes close to home, they'd resolve them and send a report to the emperor. But that shifted recently.
With the growing discontent with the current ruling family, the three factions that represented the people of Creador—Nobles, Aristocrats, and Commoners—began choosing which sides to take. There were just a few aristocratic families, so most of them joined forces with the Noble Faction. But within the Order, there's a combination of the three and there have been lots of reports that unease was starting to build up from within.
For one, the factions are currently looking at who's next in line to the throne. Most would go for who seemed beneficial to them or their family. Three names have been floating around these past two years after the emperor announced that Duncan would be the Crown Prince.
Duncan Rosenburg.
Amelia Cicely Florence.
An unknown illegitimate son that the emperor had with a commoner—this one has yet to be proven.
Alexander doesn't know if Amelia's aware that her name's in the mix. She might be aware but decided to not mind it. After all, the first time she made herself public was a few months ago at the Gathering. It would've been understandable if she was being targeted because she might be the next empress, but no. Instead, she's just caught in a power struggle that she's not even aware of.
'Argh! I don't know anymore. This is some bullshit kind of situation. The worst as of date.' Thought Alexander as he gulped the contents of his glass in one go. It's better for him not to think at the moment and just let things be. Not resisting anything. Not thinking deeply about anything. Just allowing things to flow through as they came.
No interruptions. No anything. Then Alexander might feel a little better.
A few minutes more and a series of patterned knocks brought the three men's attention to the door. No one made a sound, let alone moved from their seats. They just all stared at it, and in a second or two, the knob twisted, and in came a man past his sixties holding a well-made, intricately decorated wooden cane with a bear's head sculpted on top of it. His clear grey eyes and seemingly good posture didn't suit his age; only the thinning white crown was the evidence, and Alexander's eyes widened when the old man looked at him directly from the opened door—his hand on top of the other, clenching the bear's head on his cane.
They stared at each other for a moment before the old man broke it off to turn to where Vernon and Vance were seated.
"How could you sit there so comfortably after torturing an aged man through the winding stairs? The least you could do is offer me something nice!" he nagged, pointing his cane at the two men, and immediately, his manner of speaking reminded Alexander of a pesky mosquito who wouldn't leave him alone.
"Well, instead of blocking the door, why won't you take a seat first?" It was Vernon who spoke, pointing at the vacant spots across them. "This is Reignold Whitt. I'm sure you've heard of him." Alexander's eyes were glued on the old man as he walked to where the duke pointed him, grumbling all the way through.
Alexander was right! To think that he would meet the elusive leader of the Felfords, the Whitt sibling's grandfather, was beyond believable. But what baffled the young duke the most was not the presence of Reignold that closely resembled Arabella; or the beautiful lady that followed him after. Instead, it was the fact that the last person who went through the door had the same amber eyes as his and was a little tanned. Her short wavy hair was held back with an elastic band, and her dress, yet again, had a deep V neckline that showcased her busts with pride.
"Oh? I thought my little brother's out of this?" Leticia said rather annoyingly at Vernon.
"Out of this?" Alexander stood from his seat, "I am at the center of all of this. Your presence is the questionable one," he said, surprised to see his sister through the door.
"So, this is the young lad that's been pissing off my granddaughter these past few months?" Reignold lifted his chin and looked down at Alexander. "She kept badgering her brothers to quickly finish the mission because she said a sly eagle might come and snatch her duchess away." The chuckle that left the old man at the end of his sentence was with little intimidation as a smirk quickly appeared and left his face.
Alexander's eyes shook slightly as he stared back at the Felfords' head. He's the master behind the assassin's main family—the master of all assassins, to say the least. A family full of talented killers that appear almost to be the descendants of Death. Once they've set their eyes on their targets, it's without a doubt that they'd deliver through.
"I wasn't informed that my brother's coming too." His sister grunted as her eyes darted at Vernon and Vance.
"He's part of the Order, and he's the one involved, so I invited him. He should hear about the plan directly." Vernon answered. He stood up and took the tray where the drinks were placed and brought it to the middle of the table. "We don't want miscommunication now, do we?"
It's Alexander's first time attending a meeting with other members of the Order. Letters were the usual mode of communication, and meetings were for urgent ones that were too private to be risked sent through a letter.
Listening to his sister debating with Vernon about his attendance, a graceful figure glided across the room and pulled a vacant chair beside him. She wore a black dress with long fitted sleeves embroidered with golden leaves at the cuffs, the same as the embroidery on the halter-style upper portion of her dress that came up to her neck secured with a choker-like band decorated with tiny crystals. Her shoulders were bare, but her olive green off-shoulder overdress looked thick enough to keep her warm. Her dress was cinched at the waist with a plain black band.
"Hello. It's a good day for a meeting, ain't it?' she spoke in a smoky, mysterious way that Alexander couldn't help but be intrigued.
The lady was fair-skinned. Maybe a tad taller and slimmer than Amelia. She has long, slender arms and delicate fingers. The way she moved too was without flaw. Alexander thought that Amelia's ways were the most ladylike he's seen, but he guessed wrong. Her hair was styled in a messy bun with small portions dangling in front of her dolled small face and at the back of her smooth nape. She subtly smelled of perfume that was just right for Alexander's taste.
If he weren't suddenly so loyal to the duchess who doesn't even remember him as the boy from her past, he would've already given a compliment or two to his advantage. He's already imagined himself deep inside the lady beside him, destroying her perfect manners and letting the wild loose.
Alexander stopped and cleared his throat to clear away his thoughts and looked at his sister after politely responding to the lady's earlier greeting. Looking at Leticia would immediately put him in a bad mood, so he stared long and hard at her.
A part of Alexander laughed and teased him. Old habits die hard, after all.
"And who is this beautiful, young lady?" Vance asked, his hand gesturing across the table. When Alexander looked at the advisor, he was surprised to meet his eyes that looked as if he knew his thoughts earlier.
"Millicent Rouwe. I call her Milly," Vernon answered. "Her parents are wealthy merchants here in Aclador. Milly's made a name making and curating jewelry and has closely helped me gather information."
"Oh?" was the advisor's reply, and Alexander had the same. He hasn't heard of a family name such as Rouwe.
Milly giggled, covering her mouth, "I'm sure I'm not that famous yet, Duke Vernon. The Beaumont family's a whole different level when it comes to jewelry, after all." She looked straight at the duke, and Vernon chuckled softly, looking back.
Everyone's eyes were on them. Even Leticia stopped talking with Reignold and leaned back with her brow arched.
'It couldn't be right?' Alexander thought to himself. Milly's probably only a year or two older than Amelia. She couldn't possibly be in a relationship with someone that could be his father, right?
But Vernon's a duke. Who doesn't want to do it with a duke and walk through the streets with pride knowing that the ruler of the duchy has chosen her personally?
Right?
The awkward atmosphere was stopped when Reignold cleared his throat, tapping the end of his cane once on the floor, loud enough that everyone was forced to look at him.
"Enough shenanigans," he said, looking bored. "Let's get to business."
Oh, right. They've gathered today to discuss their plans for whatever's coming—whatever that may be. Alexander turned to Vance, thinking that he would be the one to open up the meeting since this concerned him the most. But it was his sister who spoke instead.
"I get that I'm here because I've been to Pradour a few times, and to tell you honestly, I don't want to go back there." She said, crossing her arms about her chest.
The young duke eyed his sister. He couldn't believe that she's also part of the Order. When was she invited? And why did no one tell him about it?
As if his mind has a mouth of its own, Alexander corrected himself and said that the members' identities were being kept a secret for their protection and only revealed if they chose to do so.
"Well, you just have to go back there again and punch the wits out of those who ridiculed you." Answered Reignold with a half chuckle, his hands still resting on top of his crane.
Leticia rolled her eyes as if saying that his notion was ridiculous but at the same time made sense a little. For all Alexander knew, his sister wouldn't let anyone trample on her pride. But to hate going back to Pradour must mean that something terrible happened to her there—probably more of a mental attack than a physical one.
"I am asking for assistance. Any sort of help I can get to have some of my men travel from Pradour to here so we can devise a better plan before I leave." Finally, Vance spoke.
"Leave?" Reignold asked, bewildered. "How can you leave for your empire when all these horrible things are happening to the duchess, and that bastard Walton's still roaming free?"
"That's the very reason I am going back. To stop these series of assaults towards the duchess." Vance replied, stressing the words 'assaults.
The three exchanged looks in confusion. If he didn't know any better, Alexander would've been confused with them. Asking, 'why would going to another empire solve what's happening in this empire?' Then Vance proceeded to tell them the truth after making them promise not to tell a soul.
The advisor looked at Leticia and Reignold, convinced that they would keep their mouth shut, but the odd one was still suspicious—Milly. Vance turned to give a glance on Vernon, and he nodded at him reassuringly. If Alexander were in the old advisor's shoes, he would've thought more than twice to divulge something he kept for years if Milly was present.
She looked like a sore thumb sticking out. Alexander hasn't heard of her one bit, and members of the Order should have made a significant number of achievements to even be noticed—may that achievement be publicly known or not, like Felfords, who mostly dealt with underground requests.
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