Capítulo 63: 'You’re from Pradour, right, Uncle?'
Casually greeting others in the room, he went towards them and reached a hand to the young duke not minding the duchess.
"Baron George Walton, your grace," he said.
"We never had a chance to meet given how adept you are at business, Baron Walton. It's good to see you here."
"You're rather late, Uncle." Amelia butted, annoyed.
"Ah yes. Your messenger must've skipped my mansion. I just heard about it from someone this morning." He plainly answered then faced Alexander again.
"Well, Thuenia's one hard duchy to infiltrate. I'd love for us to talk business soon though—now that we've met."
"Striking while the iron's hot, are we?" Alexander showed a curt smile, but he's never felt a room this tense before it's also starting to get on his nerves. "We'll see about that. The Elders are rather strict about business, I'm sure you know how they are. But let's not talk business today. Cice, here, is just about to introduce me to the eminent High Priest." Alexander smiled, reaching out to place a hand behind the duchess' back.
"High Priest Kirgim," Amelia softly smiled as she gestured to the priest's way.
"Greetings to the messenger of Lyzato, High Priest Kirgim." Alexander bowed deeply and reached out the hand that the priest extended for him to kiss.
"Your greetings are received, Duke Clement," Kirgim nodded at him then walked towards the slightly elevated dais where he took a scroll tied with a thick red ribbon and spread it on the varnished table at the center.
Taking a bottle of ink and a pen, he placed it on the upper right corner of the scroll. Kirgim called Amelia and she complied. There was no time for her to sit down. Alexander thought that there would at least be some words said, but as the duchess mentioned earlier, she's only there to sign it.
And sign it she did.
"As the duchess, this makes you the very heart and life of Osmea. May Lyzato bless you with a fruitful reign and a celebrated one. Congratulations, Duchess Amelia," Kirgim took her hand and held it as he quietly offered a prayer.
"Thank you, High Priest Kirgim…"
Words of congratulations echoed throughout the chapel and Amelia received well wishes in succession that there was no room for the young duke but to wait on the side.
Teas and pastries were offered at one of the duchess' greenhouses to those who wished to stay, if not, they were free to leave. And soon enough, it was apparent who were the ones who favored the duchess and those that preferred her aunt's husband.
"Shouldn't you be concerned about that?" Alexander pointed with his eyes to Walton sitting at the end of the long table opposite Amelia.
"He's at the foot for a reason," she answered, "What I'm more distracted about is that woman who can't take a finger off him. Just look at them, such a disgrace." Alexander nodded as if he related to the duchess when he knew full well that the baron's being played at.
Aside from the usual poison testers that were usually seated at the side, Arabella's task was to test the food again before handing it to the duchess, making her in charge of Amelia's meal.
"You're not eating much," Alexander leaned closer to whisper after noting the almost untouched plate in front of her.
"I don't have much of an appetite."
"Why? Are you feeling sick? You didn't have breakfast either. That's not good, Cice…"
"Don't the both of you make a wonderful pair?" Walton suddenly uttered from his seat, but the young duke only brushed the notion with a smile. He then looked at Vernon and Ayland from across the table and their eyes were deadly serious.
"I believe I haven't met your lady friend yet, Baron Walton," Alexander said to change the subject.
"Ah, yes, of course…" Walton cleared his throat and stood up, a glass of wine in one hand, while the other behind his lady friend. "Adora Stanton, everyone. Everyone, Adora Stanton." The lady smiled playfully as she curtsied with her hand on her chest.
Millicent was totally different from how she was when Alexander first met her. Gone was the elegant lady that glided through the tower room. The one standing in front of them looked like a giddy airhead with nothing going on her except for her beauty and her bountiful front.
'Women are scary,' Alexander thought as he faked a smile to greet the so-called 'Adora'.
After the introduction, a casual conversation started. Alexander butted in when he could while Amelia eagerly listened. Nothing political, just plain old street topics—trade, secrets, women, men even, and whatnot. The ladies-in-waiting giggled from Aclador's duke's lousy old man jokes and Ayland started his own mini-lecture on floras and greens that were beneficial to keep a lady looking her best.
The conversation only stopped when several knights wearing a heavy hooded yellow cloaks appeared at the entrance of the greenhouse, talking to Ancel and his knights who were stationed outside.
"Seems like I'm past my curfew," the duke said with a grin. "Duke Mulford, Prince Ayland, Cice, Vance, ladies, and gents…" Alexander lightly bobbed his head, deliberately forgetting to mention the baron. "I'll see you when I see you," he says, then without a thought or two, the young duke leaned towards the duchess and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead.
"But I hope to see you very soon," he whispered as his palm caressed the side of the duchess' face.
Everyone was in awe. Even her aunt's husband stopped midway chewing when he faced them again. Vance, on the other hand, looked too exhausted to even care.
"Ha-have a safe trip back…" Amelia said in almost a whisper, her face looking flushed.
"I will," Alexander said before turning back to head out of the greenhouse to where his men were waiting for him—Barrette, especially. He has been waiting for him to return since he ordered him to track down the gardener's whereabouts. And since he's standing proudly in front of him, it must've meant that he managed to do a good job. "Out with it now," the young Duke demanded, and the knight said he'd say once they're out of the duchess' palace grounds.
**********
Words spread fast like wildfire on a midsummer day. There was no hiding it now since they can't possibly seal every servant's and every knight's mouth about how the duke treated the duchess during his stay.
"The newsmonger at Eblon was making it big with the headlines. I was shocked." Amelia looked at Constance through her mirror as she brushed the night's tangles from her hair. Her lady-in-waiting arrived at dawn and was the one to wake her up.
"I didn't know you were coming."
"Ralph's been summoned to the capital, so I thought I'd come and visit you," Constance stood from the foot of Amelia's bed and went towards her. Taking the hairbrush from the duchess, the lady-in-waiting gently ran it through Amelia's hair. "You're changing the subject, Lia," she giggled, and Amelia had no other choice but to tell her how that news came to life. "So, what do you think about it? About the duke?"
"I don't know," Amelia sighed and faced Constance. "I know he pities me. Or maybe it's just his ego. He's the boy from the cabin that I kept on dreaming about before. You know, the one that kept me hidden at in the wood when that thing happened. What else could he feel aside from that? Even I feel sorry for myself every time I remember it."
"You don't know that, Lia."
"He didn't correct me," Amelia reasoned, but she couldn't remember herself asking the duke if that was the case either. She just assumed it was.
Constance remained silent after that. She continued to brush the duchess' hair whilst humming as she used to, and Amelia knew better than to argue. After a short while, her other ladies-in-waiting arrived and they all had a little chat, mostly about Constance's married life.
Amelia, too, was a tad more eager to listen than she was supposed to be. The reason why she received early teasing from her newlywed companion. Aside from that, Christa was in the shock of her life when Amelia's engagement to Thuenia's duke slipped Laila's lips.
The youngest lady-in-waiting apologized profusely to Arabella who came to lecture her about having a loose lip. Constance, on the other hand, laughed at the commotion and Amelia couldn't help but follow suit.
It hasn't been this rowdy since she came from her meeting with the emperor. Amelia's glad that everyone's present for a change.
Their little get-together was interrupted by a maid who came knocking on Amelia's door, informing her that breakfast will be served shortly at the dining hall. With a glance at her ladies-in-waiting, Amelia stood from her seat and started to get ready.
On their way down, a familiar stature was waiting at the foot of the stairs.
"Good morning, ladies… duchess. How have you been?"
It's Oswyn.
Amelia asked a favor from him two nights ago but didn't think he'd be back so fast.
"You can go ahead. I'll catch up with you in a moment," she said to her companions, and they left her without much asking. "It's not like we haven't seen each other in a long time," Amelia smiled. "I've been well, thank you, Oswyn."
"Ossie," he didn't forget to correct her, and the duchess stifled a giggle. "Anyway, I have been burning the midnight oil for you and found out a rather confusing yet highly intriguing note."
"Hmm…"
"I can't find your family records at the Keep."
"Well, that can't be, right? The Keep has a record of everything. I've read it before when I was there."
"Right… and wrong. Wait…" Oswyn waved a hand as if he were getting impatient, "You've read about your family, that's right. It's all there, I've read it too. From the time Creador was built up to your birth—but that's only your father's." the scholar paused, and Amelia looked at him straight in the eyes.
What's he trying to say?
"My father's the heir to the duchy and his family's been the ruler since it's been established. It's a given that his full history will be there." The duchess sounded unsure, and the silent Oswyn gave her again posed another confusion. "You know what? Just spill it. My brain's not functioning as much at the moment."
The scholar chuckled but turned serious just as fast, "What about your mother's?" he whispered.
'What about her?' Amelia asked herself.
"My mother's not from here…" she whispered back, her eyes on the floor.
"She isn't but everyone who married into the family is there. The women take on the heir's last name if it's a man, but if it's a woman, their husbands marry into the family and carry the Florence's name. Such was the tradition for your House. If we follow that, you should be married off to the most eligible bachelor out there and have him be the Duke of House Florence—then his family history would be written and kept at the Keep. Your mother wasn't there. There was a mention of you, but not of hers. It's like—"
"It's like she was never there, to begin with." Amelia finished.
Oswyn glanced at her; worry stamped on his face. He hesitated to mention anything further, but the duchess looked too conflicted not to help her with it.
"Or," he began again, "It was erased from the records."
"Uncle Vance said that a lot of documents were destroyed by the fire. I assumed that my family records were too. It's possible that the records haven't been transferred yet."
"What do you know about your mother?"
Amelia turned to look at Oswyn.
All that she knew about her mother was from her vague memory and from the little information she noted from others who happened to have dealt with the late duchess.
"I was told that she loved the outdoors and love looking at landscapes. She's quiet but headstrong, and that reminds people of her whenever they met me. They said I look exactly like her, and I've seen her portraits. I remember her as a loving mother, always looking out for me though she could be strict at times. I remember not being able to attend parties and go outside for a long time without my advisor or my governess. I—" Amelia stopped. Her inhale became deeper than the next and her head started to hurt.
She couldn't even come up with a single, fun memory where she spent time with her mother. The only memory she remembered with her was right before her birthday—in her room—then everything's a blur after that up to the time when she stood in front of her burning home.
"Le-let's not talk about this for now…" Oswyn's voice cracked a little. He placed a hand on the duchess' arm, but she stayed frozen from where she stood, her eyes looking at a distance. "I'll try to find out more things about it when I get back to the Keep."
"What's going on here?" the advisor's bold voice took Amelia's attention. "State your name," he demanded from the scholar, and as Oswyn introduced himself, the duchess stared long at Vance.
If anyone knew anything about her mother, it would be her advisor who came with her. He must've known her long enough to stay by her side all these years, and even when she's gone. He could've left her and returned home since he didn't have anyone in Creador.
He's a knight, but he's not Osmea's knight. He was only her mother's knight—a knight of a kingdom or an empire from where they came from.
Heck, she didn't even know where they came from. She never asked out of consideration, but that might not be necessary now. It's been years, and its enough years to mourn. Amelia thought she'd try to ask her advisor again about her mother and about what happened that night.
Why was she saved? He could've saved her parents too, but why didn't he? Why only her?
"Lia—Amelia?" it was now Vance who held her by her shoulders. "Are you alright?" she looked around and noticed that the scholar was gone.
"I—where's Oswyn?"
"He left. You didn't look good, so I asked him to visit you later. Are you feeling ill? Tired, maybe, from the festivities?"
"Uhm… no," she answered, her hand on the advisor's arm. "I was just thinking of something." Amelia breathed sharply before facing the advisor with a small smile. "I'll talk to you about it later, Uncle. I'm sure Arabella and the others are worried in the dining hall. I conversed longer than I expected to with Oswyn."
"You seem rather familiar with him. He's new at the Keep?"
"Yes. I met him when I went to Fayburgh. He grew up in Guvien but his family is from Pradour."
"Pradour?" Vance halted and Amelia looked at him confused.
"Yes—Oh, that's right," she exclaimed, "You're from Pradour, right, Uncle? Maybe I can ask him to check on your family for you. You know, so you'd be at ease knowing that they're safe at least."
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