Chương 21: Madman's Gambit - Part 11

Vitale descended the spiral staircase, the sound of activity growing with every step further. The kitchen was always a lively place - no matter the season nor occasion.

Finding his place on the stone landing, he looked over the massive room, and the handful of servants flitting this way and that, some cleaning radishes, some mixing brine for pickling, some squeezing and salting cabbage ribbons for kapusta.

Milvic was at the far end of the open chamber, a cleaver in one hand and a firm hold of what looked to be the remains of a boar under the other.

"Vitale!" One of the women called, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along with her as she fetched storage jars. "Help me, will you, my lord?"

Her name was Lada. She was a young woman, born and raised in the retainer dormitory that was to the west of the castle proper, though still very much under its strict and protective jurisdiction.

Contrastive to Casterian culture, the vassal class in Rodakrov was just as respective as any other that did not have claims to nobility. They were paid properly for their services and oftentimes inherited their positions from their parents. Lada was no different. Her father was a guard in the castle garrison, her mother, an esteemed kitchen attendant.

"Here," she said, piling jar after glass jar into his arms. "Kolya instructed that we double our kapusta and gherkin stores this season."

Every time the young lady referred to the prince in such a familiar way - and with a pet name only she utilized - Vitale couldn't help but internally shudder. It was true that the two of them grew up together - Lada was only one year Nikolai's elder - but the priest wasn't entirely convinced that childhood affiliation would be enough to harbor her from... well, any straying of the king's patience.

"Come this way," she instructed, twirling around so that her skirts lifted and danced with her, before flitting back across the room to her station. Vitale had no choice but to follow.

She pushed the clutter she had left behind - a cutting board, a knife, the unused tips and cores of the cucumbers and cabbage - to clear a space of the jars. The priest obediently began to place one after the other on the table, fighting the desperate urge to organize the unnecessary mess.

"Have you come down because dinner has been changed?" Lada asked, stuffing the jar within closest reach with salted cabbage ribbons. "Is it because of that ugly little man who made a rude appearance this morning?"

"Lada," Vitale sighed, looking over at her. "That is the heir of Casteria. You mustn't just freely say what you wish."

"Kolya doesn't mind it," Lada countered, grabbing another empty jar and repeating her process. "He quite enjoys my brash commentary. I know so by the way he frowns whenever I speak - for if he does not, he will be betrayed by a smile. Or even a laugh." She grinned at the idea of it. "What a day that would be, no, Vitale?"

"Lada," he tried again, placing a ginger hand on her shoulder once he had rid himself of all the jars he was burdened with. "With the late King Bozhidar's death, the castle will soon be mired in tumultuous activity. Please be mindful of yourself. If anything were to happen to you, I don't think King Nikolai would be pleased with you."

Only then did her lighthearted expression harden.

"Tumultuous activity?" She asked. "To what are you referring?"

"The ugly little man you spoke of before," Vitale replied, his voice low so no other could listen in. "Is Rens Aquiladessi - King Nikolai's illegitimate half-brother, who believes he has claim to the throne."

"What?" She snarled before the priest could stop her. "If he thinks that then I'll-"

"Hush and do nothing," Vitale hissed. "Lada, please. Listen."

Despite the enraged expression, she abided by his wishes, glaring at him as if it was he who wanted to throne.

"Until this mess has been cleared up, you must keep your head down and your lips sealed. Can you promise me this?"

Her silence was not encouraging.

"Lada-"

"Yes, yes, fine, I will," she interjected, waving a dismissive hand. "But I wish to speak with Kolya."

Vitale furrowed his brow, suddenly suspicious. "Why?"

"You're insinuating that the ugly bastard will actually pose a threat to Kolya, which is as ridiculous as a pig with wings. What possible hesitancy could he have over ending his pathetic life? It'll probably be doing him a service, anyway - who would want to live to be such a short man?"

Vitale exhaled, shaking his head. "Lada, please."

"I'm quite serious, Vitale," she countered, her brow pressed. "What is it about this man that has you scuttling down to the kitchens to change a menu which doesn't even possess multiple variations?"

"Look," the priest sighed. "The current matters that are being dealt with here are delicate and the king understands this. Please, just trust that-"

"I trust the words of my king, Vitale," she interrupted, setting her hands on her hips the way Krovic women were taught to so as not to strangle the men who tested their patience. "And my king has ordered that I speak only the truth to him, unbridled by hesitancy over punishment. So, you have a choice now - you either convince me that remaining quiet will best allow me to follow that order of Kolya's, or get out of my way before I take a finger or two."

Vitale studied her for a moment, the fire alight in her muddy green eyes, before exhaling a frustrated breath. He did not doubt her ability to follow through with that threat, and while he knew information shared with too many ears might as well have been shared with the entire world, he figured Lada would be the best of all evils. She cared for Nikolai as a sister would a brother. She would never do anything that seemed against his best interest - to a fault. And anyway, he didn't have much choice, anymore.

"If Nikolai remains on the throne, he will become an easy target for those who are currently hunting him. And you know him, Lada - you know he will sit and wait for those hunters to come. But..." The priest shifted. "Those hunters, this... organization, this court of shadows... Bozhidar was safe from them because of the alliances he had forged through a master-web of delicate threads relying upon each other to maintain their form. But now, with Casteria creeping in from the south and whispering words of propaganda to Vukland, Rodakrov is in an unexampled state of weakness. A weakness that the hunters will be able to overpower."

He did not wait for Lada to reply.

"If you encourage him to slaughter Rens Aquiladessi, you might as well be killing him, Lada. Do you want that? Hm?"

"I... don't understand, Vitale. How..." She narrowed her eyes at him in sudden recognition. "Encourage, you say? Not even the gods could convince Kolya to do something against what he believed to be tactically advantageous, let alone me. You speak as though he is ignorant to this court of shadows." She appraised him with a cutting glare. "And you fear for his safety, you claim. If I were you, I would be more concerned over your own."

"Don't think I'm not," Vitale bit. "When I return to the king presently, there is about a thirty percent chance I will have my tongue ripped from my throat fed to Rostislav. All the more reason I am divulging this to you, now, when I still can."

The plea only served to elicit from the young woman a sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest. Still, Vitale knew that to be a cessation.

"Fine, I will not encourage murder, but I still wish to speak with him. I do not wish to be left in the dark where his wellbeing is concerned, do you understand me?"

The fact that this seventeen-year-old girl was making commands of a full-grown man crossed his thoughts for only a moment of weakness. For the rest of the time, his body was washed in warm relief.

"Very well, Lada. I will make sure to keep you in the loop at all times."

The tension in Lada's shoulders released, causing a slight sag. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and turned back to her jarring duties.

"So, what was it that you needed down here anyway, Vitale?"

"The king is moving supper up," he answered, glancing over at Milvic. The man might've been the Master of the Kitchen, but in title alone. If any of the women down here were to hear him be called that, they would collapse in a fit of condescending giggles. 'A kitchen is not a dictatorship', he had been reprimanded many-a time, 'but a harmony. There are many voices, and all are vital.'

"To placate Ugly?" She asked.

The priest didn't bother to correct her. There was very little point in doing so, now. Not to mention, he wanted to keep all ten digits.

"Yes. And nix any ingredients of import. No meat, no cheese."

"Cabbage soup and day-old bread it is," Lada grinned, before digging into the pockets of her apron and procuring a palm sized... thing... wrapped in bloody meat-paper. "Here, I saved this for Rostya. Make sure to give it to him."

"Oh, yes, because I would be tempted to keep it for myself," he grumbled, gingerly taking it from her.

"Be lucky I'm giving you his snack and not his supper, Vitale," she countered, cocking a brow. "Though, now, I'm thinking I ought to punish you by doing just that."

"It's far too early for Rostya's supper," Vitale replied mockingly. "Perhaps next time, though."

She narrowed her eyes at him for a heart rendering second, but ultimately returned her attention to her work station.

"I now understand all of Kolya's grumblings surrounding you and your vexing nature, Vitale."

For the first time in a very long while, the priest cocked a genuine grin.

"I say this with all of the love and adoration in the world, Lada," he replied to her as he turned on his heal and headed for the spiral staircase once again. "I daily thank the summer and winter gods both that you cannot marry King Nikolai. The day that you could, would be the very day that I retire."

"Retire?" She called back to him. "Perhaps from life, Vitale, as that would also be the very day that your head leaves your body!"

Her joyous cackles filled his heart for only a fleeting moment, for as he ascended step after step, the weight of what was to come settled heavier and heavier upon his shoulders.

SUY NGHĨ CỦA NGƯỜI SÁNG TẠO
OfficialHiggins

Hi there! If there are any grammar issues, let me know - I wrote this rather fast and did not have much time for editing (which will be done sometime this week). If you see any screw-ups, help me out by letting me know! Thanks! You're the best~~

Already found a ridiculous one (which I corrected) - I used the word 'know' when I meant to use 'now'...

In the words of Michael Gary Scott, 'Why are you the way that you are? Honestly, every time I try to do something fun or exciting, you make it not that way. I hate so much about the things that you choose to be.'

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