3/4.

******

 

Despite the presence of the finest tutors of Reitzlake in her life, Renise’s mother had never shied from personally instructing her in matters of nobility. 

Whether it be common etiquette, an understanding of politics and the important ability to offer slights using nothing but a twist of the lips, the famed Lady Sabilla of House Rimeaux was as strict on her daughter as she was on her rivals.

Renise’s father, on the other hand, was less interested in instructing her on how to be nobility than he was in instructing her on how to be a Rimeaux. His lessons concerned how to swing a fist without breaking one’s thumb, or how to headbutt without causing an equal amount of pain in return. 

As Renise sat at a small tea table surrounded by a waiting staff consisting of armed guards, she wondered which of the lessons she’d be employing today. 

She hoped it was her mother’s. 

She very rarely headbuttted anyone. And in her experience, the pain of colliding her head with another’s never lessened with practise. Only amplified. 

Still … she wasn’t ruling it out just yet.

Before her, Baroness Arisa Sandholt sipped at a cup of golden chamomile, her pretty face a picture of bliss to match the expectations of those downstairs in her tavern. 

Renise imagined they missed her more than she missed them.

“You’ve quite a gathering today,” she said, her own cup steadfastly untouched. Though not the biscuits. Those were quite delightful. “I see a host of Hartzwiese’s local dignitaries. Should you not be attending to their need to view your lovely smile?”

“They’ve seen enough of it, I’m sure. And I’ve seen far too much of theirs. The joviality is absurd. They view wine as dearly as gold. And many pay for it pretending it was as much.”

“A kindly gift then, for the people’s princess to offer them their piece of joy.”

Baroness Arisa snorted.

A highly undignified action. No matter what grim fate she could wish upon Renise, it’d likely fail to compare to the shock of hearing such a sound.

“A name I had no part in deciding. For all my charitable nature, to wish for such a … shameless title is beyond me. I am Baroness Arisa Sandholt, and to be viewed as a princess is an insult. I actually work.”

“Yes, and how well your work must be. Even for those who own their own taverns, it’s rare to see commoners invited to empty their casks. It’s pleasing to see nobility continue to remember those who are responsible for the goods they sell.”

“Only in the royal capital is it a popular pastime for nobility to ignore the common classes to the point of impracticality.”

“The powerful flock together.”

“The powerful and the dull. I’ve visited more often than I care to count. Bored out of my skull each time as I waited for someone to be assassinated.”

Renise’s smile hardened.

“And if you had ever seen an assassination, I imagine they’d quickly lose their appeal.”

“Oh? Have you witnessed many? The last I heard, outright assassinations are a sad rarity. Blood is bad for business. It gets everywhere, crowns especially. I suppose that’s why Lady Lucina opted to use a draught of eternal slumber. Retaliation in kind would have been far kinder than to be stabbed with a knife. How is she?”

“Quite well. The Crown Prince has opted to do away with precedence and commit to a public trial, much to the chagrin of the capital’s nobility. They would prefer to see her executed silently while they fight over her assets like vultures to a dead rat.”

“How bold of the Crown Prince, to permit the public to peek into our gardens. To turn public approval against those who gather his taxes is a dangerous gambit.”

“One he feels is necessary.”

“As a warning to those who would follow in Lady Lucina’s steps?”

“It is a large vacuum that has opened in her wake, and a certain message needs to be transmitted that those of her kind are no longer permitted in this kingdom.”

“Those of your kind, you mean, Lady Renise?”

Renise gave a small tilt of her head.

“Those of ours, I believe.”

“My goodness, that sounds like an accusation.”

“It is a simple telling of facts. House Sandholt has risen in wealth and status at a rate which was notable even before the demise of the Thieves Guild and Smugglers Guild. Since then, the weight of your coin purse has increased dramatically.”

“What can I say? Business has been exceptional. Spring is here, and summer will bring even more wealth aplenty. For the kingdom and us all.”

“Yes, and I suppose the guards at Granholtz’s border will take the opportunity to enjoy some needed rest upon the green hillsides, closing their eyes to what occurs around them.”

“A dereliction of duty. They should be tried at once.”

Renise lifted her cup, then politely pretended to take a sip. 

Even without drinking it, she could taste the aroma. It was lovely. At first. Fragrant and sweet, but then followed by a notable astringency. 

A fine choice by the baroness before her, whose flowery smile would soon come to wilt.

“Lady Lucina’s fate is open to all,” said Renise, opting to do away with the ambiguity which never existed in the first place. “Now more than ever. Any smuggling across the border must cease, especially should it open the way for Granholtz’s criminal fraternities to entrench themselves.”

“How ghastly. They might even bring a hint of civilisation to the kingdom.”

“They would bring more than that. House Sandholt should know the perils in dealing with those who have long sought instability in this region.”

“And who is House Sandholt, exactly? My father? He died choking on a blueberry muffin stuck in his throat. My mother forgot she was no swan and fell down a lake. I am House Sandholt. And being young and inexperienced as I am, I only know what I know.”

“Then allow me to provide some education. I am not here as a warning, but as a notice. You are to cease whatever activities are ongoing. Do so and you shall be privately reprieved, providing that certain stipulations regarding your assets are met. Failure to do so will see a very public affair occur instead–irrespective of whether or not I leave this tea table.”

“Nobody is stopping you from leaving. Although I’d insist on knowing what you think of the tea first.”

Renise pretended to take another sip.

“A fragrant scent with a sweet taste, yet maligned with a bitter aftertaste. I cannot say I enjoy it.”

“It’s the 3rd Princess’s favourite. It matches her, although I’m uncertain if you’re familiar enough with the princess to know this. Have you ever met her, considering she continues to be the social recluse?”

“I have never met the princess, no,” said Renise, speaking not untruthfully, knowing only the adventurer who saved her.

“A shame. She leaves quite the impression. Come, try the bergamot.”

The baroness didn’t even need to wave her hand dramatically.

A guard carrying a tray set down a new teapot and a pair of cups. The baroness opted to pour. 

Renise was stunned. To be given multiple cups like a sailor gathering pints at The Salty Mermaid was … well, there was no established etiquette against this. 

Which was just how much against decorum it was.

She blinked down at the bergamot.

Then, she pretended to take a sip.

“What do you think?”

Renise thought for a moment.

“A fragrant scent. A sweet taste. A bitter aftertaste.”

“Again. Rather like the 3rd Princess. It’s a wonder why she insists on this. Anything else and it’s tossed through the window. Teapot and all. Did you know the Royal Villa has a servant permanently stationed outside just to recover the priceless antiques she throws away?”

Renise pursed her lips in answer.

Frankly, she was doing all that she could to not broach the topic of Juliette.

She didn’t wish to offer any suggestion the princess was anywhere other than attending her important duties in the Royal Villa.

But more than that …

There was something about the way this girl spoke about Juliette which made Renise know with every fibre, every morsel of her being, that she should not be drawn into a conversation.

Thus, she lowered her teacup instead, allowing the clink to bring proceedings back to order.

“I’m not here to discuss tea, Baroness Arisa. I’m to remind you that you possess a noble title, youth and beauty. To wish for more is senseless. There is no path which awaits you but to lose it all.”

The girl before her smiled as she drained her cup. She waved away another.

“A problem which sounds truly woeful. And one I’ll take into due consideration. After the next course of action.”

“And what would that be?”

“Open bribery.”

Renise sighed.

She couldn’t say anything to that. It truly was the next step.

“There’s nothing I want. And so in the spirit of saving us both time, I shall decline.”

“You haven’t even heard my offer yet.”

“I’ve little need to. The Crown Prince has generously offered me a second chance. As he will you.”

“And what is this second chance he has offered you? A lifetime of indentured servitude?”

“Time,” answered Renise simply.

Baroness Arisa placed her cheeks against her palms, elbows to the table.

Another violation of etiquette. As her grey eyes peered into her own, and a smile filled with a playful warmth directed itself against her, Renise was assured of her decision not to have sent one of her senior hands in her place. 

“Hmm … time. Is this all?”

Renise nodded curtly.

It was all she required. She was certain of it.

“You’ll understand, I hope, that your only option now is to hear the terms of your asset forfeiture.”

“Oh? Then allow me to make a recommendation, based on valuation–a cure to wake the Smuggler King and Queen from a draught of eternal slumber.”

Renise became still at once.

In an instant, her mind became as blank as one who had come under a mermaid’s [Charm].

And then, it was filled with thoughts of her parents, alternately teaching her how to smile and how to punch. The memories struck as hard as nails biting into her skin. But not as much as the voice of a baroness with little else to offer but deceit.

She did not so easily accept the bait.

“... And what would this be? There are many purported cures as there are tonics to regrow hair. None readily available. Or I would know.”

Renise paused.

“Not regarding the hair, I mean.”

The baroness’s smile widened. She believed she had Renise’s attention.

And for a few moments, at least, she had.

“Your scepticism is deserved. But the solution is very real. I gather I have your interest?”

“You have my doubt.”

“That is quite unfair. You were never truly part of the Smugglers Guild, were you? Too busy playing the noblewoman. But those who know the craft know the contacts your father possessed. And could you deny that were he here, he would not be able to procure what you currently desire?”

Renise could not.

Her father was many things. Talented with both sword and word. And it was the latter which allowed him to build the empire he did. A cure for a fae draught would not be out of his reach … as it was hers.

She clenched her fists beneath the table.

Click.

And then they released, going as limp as her jaw as the baroness snapped her finger.

Because just like that … a guard came into the room carrying a silver tray. 

And upon it–

“A draught of slumber,” said Baroness Arisa towards the golden liquid encased in a tiny vial. “Note the lack of the word ‘eternal’.”

For a moment, Renise could only blink as she looked at the liquid. The golden liquid, as was the colour of the Winter Queen’s wine. It was the same shine. The same magic.

“How–”

“Your father wasn’t the only one to visit the Dancing Rat’s lair. He certainly wasn’t the first one to reach the Winter Queen’s wine. That honour went to his subordinates. And, well, let’s be honest. Smugglers.”

Renise pursed her lips as the vial approached … but not near enough.

The man came to a pause, closer to the door than he was to the table.

“What … What is it?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“A diluted concoction, similar to what your father and mother ingested in, frankly, ridiculously exorbitant quantities. For an accomplished businesswoman, Lady Lucina truly didn’t have qualms about spending.”

Renise’s doubts arrived like a winter gale. It could have been anything. Anything. 

Yet even so–

“A diluted concoction. What does that entail? How is this a cure?”

A wagging finger met her.

“That is information which comes with my offer. One which will have you returning to the fold. You. And your parents. There is room for you all. Rejoice, Smuggler Princess, for in the days ahead, the Rimeaux family can reign over more than just sewers.”

A soft voice. And a gentler smile.

This girl was deadlier than any mermaid.

And for the briefest moment, Renise didn’t need a draught of eternal slumber to dream. 

It was all she allowed as she clenched her fists once again, so tightly it hurt, the pain a wintry chill to steel her heart.

This baroness … no matter what she claimed to be in that vial, it almost certainly contained a morsel of her smile as well. And that was poison greater than anything her parents had drunk. 

She could not allow herself to listen.

“... My apologies, but could you not simply attempt to bribe me with crowns instead? I’m afraid a vial of yellow liquid collected from the floor of a tavern rather does fall below the usual standards of offers I’ve come to expect.”

The baroness’s smile never faltered.

“I’m afraid I’ve no better offer than to match all that you dream.”

“Then we must move onto the next stage of this conversation.”

A shrug answered her, followed by the sight of the baroness pouring herself another cup of tea.

“Very well, then. I’m not averse to continuing our conversation elsewhere. Will you stand or should my guards carry you?”

“I shall stand.”

Renise sighed.

An escape from the clutches of nobility more ambitious than herself. 

To be fair, this was only the second time she’d be required to do it. But she was already tired before the first time.

She turned to the baroness again.

“Out of curiosity, if I retrieve the knives strapped to my leg, hop over the table and threaten to hold you hostage, what will happen?”

“I suppose I’d be forced to retrieve the ones I have on myself, and we would stab each other until you are overwhelmed by my guards. A highly unpleasant scenario. I advise attempting escape instead.”

“Thank you. I shall do just that.”

The baroness smiled and waited, and Renise duly obliged, sending a vial from her leg belt down upon the ground.

It was time to escape. Again.