"How do I look?" Asked Grimholt, holding out his arms to examine the patchwork suit once more. The commoners of Stormwatch had come together to create the outfit for him, each family coming together to offer a piece of some precious fabric. The citizenry had taken to calling the outlaw the Prince of the People after his victory at the contest- and Nicobar's deliciously public acknowledgment of Sylven's legitimate role as Adora's suitor.
"As good as the last time you asked," Hurricane replied, with an eye-roll he made sure the boss caught.
"Oh, do forgive me, my long suffering companion! God forbid I should want to look presentable before of my lady."
"The big man upstairs did forbid pride."
"Yes, well, He's never met me. If He did, it might change His mind on the matter."
The duo of unlikely visitors sat on horseback before the front gates of the palace. The guards watched them warily as they waited to enter with the other suitors and their retinues. This was not the first time they had come to an official event for the suitors. Every few days it seemed there was a game of croquet, horse races they suspected of being rigged, teas and so on. Everyone was hoping that the Princess would announce her decision soon.
"You know, Boss, staring at Count Cinbran won't make him disappear."
"I am not staring, I am observing. It is best to familiarize oneself with their enemies."
"He is a suitor too. You knew this was part of the gig when you decided to fall for the most unavailable woman in the Kingdom."
"Bah!" Grimholt exclaimed, waving a hand dismissively at Hurricane. "There is only one real option, and that is myself. My lady will not sway, not now that she knows the truth."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. True love, or whatever," muttered Hurricane.
"I would, however," continued Grimholt, "like to uncover why Count Cinbran is interested in Adora's hand. Do you think that your lovely Lady Hersillia might be able to shed some light on the situation?"
Before Hurricane could respond, they both noticed a slight, red-headed, eager-eyed young guard who was gazing up at Grimholt with bald-faced awe.
"Good day, young man," Grimholt said, tipping his hat. "Can we help you?"
"Oh no, I'm so sorry! I did not mean to bother you, sir."
"Bother me? My dear boy, you are the guard!"
The little guard's freckled face flushed scarlet. "My name is Nolan. I saw you at the contest, you know. Your fight with the Phantom is legendary among the guards! I've never seen anyone do what you did."
"Lofty compliments! You know I'm still an outlaw, don't you, Nolan?"
"Oh. Well, yes... but you're the Princess's favorite suitor!"
"I am?" Grimholt's heart beat hopefully. Of course he was.
"Of course you are! I'm one of her guards, and she's always talking about you. If you are not her favorite I would be greatly surprised." Nolan practically beamed at them now. "I was wondering... would you- well, could you tell me where you learned such swordplay?"
A great blast of horns announced the opening gates, and the start of the day's event: yet another bloody tea party. Grimholt smothered his smile as the little guard jumped and looked around in panic.
"That seems to be your queue, my friend," Grimholt whispered, leaning down from his mare. "Find us in the forest, lad. We could always use more good men."
Nolan's eye lit up as he dipped a quick, messy bow before running off to join the other guards. The cavalcade of suitors, slowly and tediously, made their way to the castle.
Hurricane was still not used to being let in like a guest. The soft froufrou life was confounding to Hurricane, but he liked getting to spend time with Lady Hersillia. They both could blow off a little steam and make fun of over-eager courtiers.
"You know," he said in a low voice as they climbed off their horses, "you shouldn't be so chummy with Nicobar's minions."
"And you shouldn't be so bitter-hearted."
"Terribly sorry to be the voice of reason, again. I know it clashes with your flights of fancy."
"If you're trying to get a rise out of me, it shan't work. Come, my lady is awaiting her favorite suitor, and Lady Hersillia-"
"Just shut it already, bloody hell."
Inside austere portraits watched the procession pass with emotionless eyes. Great marble floors, towering stone pillars, delicate chandeliers, and elaborate displays of wealth filled the castle. Yet, Grimholt saw thick layer of dust on everything, and the cobwebs that gathered in corners high and low. The lack of warm light that once made the halls glow golden. Cordoned off rooms filled with things hidden under dirty sheets.
Tea was held in the sun room. The doors were flung open to see the front gardens that Grimholt had helped his father tend a lifetime ago. The gardens ended in a the hedge maze, more overgrown now than he remembered it ever being. Adorahad been terrified of the maze when they were little. He begged his father to make a secret path, just for them. Tenderhearted Andre relented, especially with enough complaints from the Princess's maids about her getting lost in it with his son. Now, it served more like a wall around the castle than the work of art his father had created.
A stained glass dome in the ceiling cast a colorful glow onto the floor of the ceriling. During cold winter afternoons Adora and he would hop from one splotch of color to another while she recited her lessons to him. There was a banquet table under those splotches now, set with delicate tea cups and towers and food. Nicobar sat at one end scowling. Grimholt was, naturally, seated between him and the Sheriff and as far away from Adora as possible. The Princess was on the other end frowning at her plate, sat beside Count Cinbran. Grimholt was especially displeased with this, as he watched the Count kiss the Princess's hand.
"Greetings and salutations." Lady Hersillia said, clinking a little bubbling chalice. She stood at the center of the room. "Before we enjoy brunch, let us go over the coming week's events."
The Princess listened glumly to the long list of events scheduled. She knew that most of them would not come to pass, and felt this was a cruel waste of time. If her opinion actually mattered, none of this charade would be happening. But Nicobar loved a show.
Adora, for her part, was a mix of strange and overwhelming emotions. There was the light joy she hadn't stopped feeling since Sylven had revealed his true identity to her and they shared their first kiss. She had not stopped glowing since that kiss. Joy, it seemed however, could sit alongside dread.
Beneath it all, she missed the Phantom. She hadn't seen Varena since the guards dragged her away. Not a letter. Not a whisper. Varena's absence gnawed at her, and she hoped the situation would be made clear to her, but as the days wore on she was left with only more questions. Hersillia was trying to garner answers, but there was only so much she could do without arousing suspicion. Matters were not helped by Nicobar's overly careful eye on the mage.
When the Lady finished her list, a servant popped the cork top off a bottle and the dining began. Adora had not had much of an appetite of late, so she instead pushed food around her plate and slyly watched the guests at the table. The four suitors, who were not the Count or Sylven, were each handsome, wealthy, and from strong noble lines, yet she could hardly remember their names. Truly they were little more than overly proud roosters, or perhaps show ponies, in her opinion. For all she resented the Count, at least there was a spark of life and intelligence behind his steely eyes.
"Would you care to go for a walk after you finish, my dear?" Cinbran asked her, his plate untouched. "I'd love a tour of that fascinating hedge maze together."
She took a drink from her teacup to give herself a moment before answering. "Yes, I-"
"Or perhaps," said Grimholt suddenly, loud enough to be heard across the table. "You'd rather go with me, my lady?"
"I believe she has already made her decision." As the Count spoke, he took the Princess's hand and lifted her up and out of her seat.
"I- I-" Adora stammered.
"And I believe," Grimholt said with a sneer. He stood as well and slapped his hands down on the table, making the trays and teapots rattle. Hurricane took hold of his patchwork sleeve and though Grimholt seethed, he allowed himself to be pulled back down into his seat.
"Master Sylven-" Nicobar began, voice dripping with condescension. "Let us all mind our manners. Now, what the Princess says goes, and she has said she accepted Cinbran's offer. Let us respect that, shall we? You can play for an audience, so why not try to play nice. Remember where you are, afterall. If it were not for the laws of the land-"
"Your laws," corrected Grimholt with a smirk. "In a way, I am here because of you, Nicobar."
"You are here because even though you are a liar, a cheat, and a charlatan I, in my great mercy, have stayed loyal to the laws as they are written. The citizenry need to know they can trust a leader who will follow the letter of the law."
"Cool down, Boss," Hurricane muttered as they watched Cinbran whisk the Princess outside to the gardens. "You're not the only suitor."
"I'm the only one that matters." Grimholt snatched a pastry from the tiered tray and ate angrily.
In the garden, Cinbran led Adora arm in arm down the cobbled path to the maze. His hand rested atop hers, making her feel hot and trapped. They walked slowly, his gate almost uncomfortable for her to match.
"Was there something you wished to speak of?" She asked as they stood before the maze's entrance.
"Not particularly. Perhaps I just wished to spend some time with my betrothed."
"I suppose I do have one question," he said, and entered the maze at a lazy pace. "What is your true opinion of this Grimholt character? You seemed quite enthusiastic about him at the contest..I cannot begrudge such emotions, rather I believe a good union is built upon a strong foundation of honesty."
"I think that Grimholt is a fine showman," she answered diplomatically. "Though, I do find him a bit audacious. "
"A showman?" He stopped and considered the path before him. Adora knew the right choice, but did not feel so inclined to help him. "Is that all? He seems rather hot under the collar about you."
"I have many interested in my hand, Count Cinbran. Are you intending to hold me accountable for all of their actions as well?"
"Fair point, my dear. No offense meant."
"None taken." But she added a little sniff to let him worry. He picked the wrong option, and though she knew it would only extend this agonizing walk, Adora said nothing.
She was not fond of the Count. He was terribly handsome and fabulously wealthy, and really did come from a land far, far away. Everything she had once hoped Sylven might be, but where her long lost friend was warm and full of life, Cinbran was cold and calculating. He could recite poetry, but Sylven spoke lyrically in a way that was natural to him. The Count could dance, but he was rigid and formal. Every quality that pulled her to the man she could not have, repelled her from the one she was promised to. Sylven was prepared to rip his throat out for merely looking at her and even now, Cinbran was unbothered by her emotions and passions- especially those she held for the outlaw.
Hurricane was working through his second plate when Lady Hersillia delivered Nicobar a sealed envelope. She brushed her manicured hand ever so gently across Hurricane's shoulders after she handed off the letter, which nearly made him choke, and stopped beside him. He wiped his mouth trying to remember any manners his mother had tried to teach him a long, long time ago.
"Calden, this is the book we spoke of the other day," she whispered, handing him a large book.
He was not used to hearing his old name. He'd started to forget there was ever a time before the outlaws. "Oh yeah?"
One of the most interesting subjects of their many conversations had become magic. Sometimes he was worried that he was pressing too far, but Lady Hersillia seemed thrilled to talk about her time at the mage's college and her experience as a Court Mage. As a high born woman of nobility, it was an obvious choice. This particular tome was an account of the history of Stormwatch and the magic native to the land and sea.
"I should like you to borrow it. If you are interested. This is my personal copy, so there is no need to rush. I would, however, quite like to hear your thoughts when you are done."
"Thank you, Lady Hersillia. You're too nice to me." He took the book from her carefully, afraid his clumsy rough hands might damage her old book. "You trust me with this?"
"Should I not?" He was about to point out the obvious reason, when he noticed her smirk.
She was teasing him.
Prince Nicobar did not catch this exchange as he cracked the wax seal and read over the letter within. His previously smug expression had vanished. He read it over once, twice, then handed it off to the Sheriff.
Grimholt had noticed this letter too. More importantly he recognized the seal as belonging to the King Finbar.
"Is there a problem, Outlaw?" Asked the Sheriff when he caught Grimholt watching.
"Not for me," Grimholt said with a smirk, and took another bite. He would love too get his hands on the letter, but did not need to. It was definitely good news from the King if it made Nicobar this unhappy