Wulfbauer Catching Fire

[pomelo]

Lord Burrows turned when his door opened, admitting the young duke. He opened his mouth to begin the speech he desperately did not want to deliver, but Erwin began talking before he got the chance. After half a moment, Burrows closed his mouth and listened, a frown deepening his face. The old Master of Coin let Erwin say his piece and, though respectfully silent, he hardly looked impressed. He waited for Erwin to finish, and then for the tray to be brought in and out. He gave a curt nod to the guard who closed the heavy door, leaving the two men alone.

Truth be told, Burrows had planned to launch into his speech much the same way Erwin had done, and being cut off like this left him slightly flustered. His frown deepened, and he mustered his resolve. ”Sit down, Erwin,” he said sternly, almost in a growl. If Lord Burrows were the type to growl. Which he was not. It was hardly how a subordinate should address his duke, but in this moment, Lord Burrows didn’t feel like a master of coin addressing the serving duke. He felt like a stand-in for Marsden Therrien, delivering a dressing down to a profligate lordling. And though Burrows had a face like thunder, it was clear that at first he didn’t know how to go on. He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing agitatedly back and forth behind his desk.

”My lord,” he finally began, though he continued pacing, ”I have to say, I have a hard time believing now that you were such a successful military commander, when you clearly possess so little discipline over your own personal affairs. Your father would be ashamed. And, if you intend to continue like this, letting your personal lasciviousness wreak public chaos in this Keep and this duchy, then you are right. You are not only an idiot, but you would be unfit for this Dukeship. And I’ll say this to you now, Erwin, if you have more interest in what you can do in your bedroom, or God knows where, than what you can do for Wulfbauer, then by Gods, you should ride out this day to Lord Kenins to relinquish your position.”

He frowned seriously at Erwin, pausing to let out a short exhale. No, it was better to just get it all said in one. ”But, for better or worse, you are the rightful Duke in Wulfbauer. Wulfbauer, that has been strong and stable and harty for centuries. We are the most steadfast duchy in this country, and letting the Dukeship be overtaken by force now would send us into decades of political instability and economic uncertainty. So, by God, Erwin, I pray that you finally see that it is time to take seriously all of the duties and responsibilities that go along with your role as duke. Not only those that suit you.”

Lord Burrows stopped his pacing then, harumphing, then finally sat down opposite of his duke. He gave the younger man a hard look. When he spoke next, he sounded more candid, less rehearsed. ”It has been bad enough, your selfish insistence not to take a wife. But now, not only do you make this criminal thief - who, by the way, in stealing from this Keep was stealing from the duchy, your people, not from you personally - your… your mistress or what-have-you. But a bastard child. A child. What in Angsar’s name were you thinking? It’s not enough to say that you have no explanation. You’re not a rutting young military commander anymore! You are not a private person who is entitled to private affairs. You have very real public responsibilities, everything you do should and must have an explanation. And before you complain that the responsibilities of being duke is more than you wanted, let me remind you that you have always been a public person. The privileges that you, and I, and the other lords of Wulfbauer were born with mean that we have a role to play for the good of the entire duchy. Maybe there are other places where the elite do as they please - Hellvion or God knows - but that is the strength of Wulfbauer. And you, Erwin Therrien, are Duke of Wulfbauer. It’s high time you act like it.”

For a moment, the old man stayed silent like that, still with a face of thunder, before finally he seemed to deflate a little, and he almost slumped back in his chair, panting slightly. In that moment, Lord Burrows felt far, far too old for this. The silence stretched on for what felt like a long moment. ”So, Duke Therrien, what are we going to do?”

[Cambie]

Erwin sat there silently, eyes avoiding Burrows even as the old Master of Coin recited every possible grievance against him.  The Duke had never heard such a tone from him – anger, frustration, perhaps worst of all, disappointment.  It took a moment for Erwin to realize that it hurt more deeply than anything he'd known in the last months.  There was a certain irony to the fact that the Duke felt (at least on some level) that the Burrows had begun to fill that fatherly figure that had been so abruptly removed from his life.  Indeed, all of Erwin's troubles seemed to flow right back to the day that Marsden Therrien took his last breath.  He thought back to the day when he'd first encountered the thief woman in the Keep.  He'd been wearing black, soaked through with rain and caked in mud.  He'd just attended a funeral.

When he finally looked up, his eyes betrayed a defensiveness.  What else was there to say?  That his romp with Mae'leena had been a way for him to cope with his family tragedy?  That he had acted not without thinking of the consequences, but in direct challenge to them?  Perhaps he had consciously avoided taking a wife in the hopes that, eventually, they would all realize that someone else should take the Dukeship, lead the country.

A frown creased his brow as he looked way. "Like I said, you are right," His voice was bit more hollow than before, but still held a tinge of conviction in it.  "I have acted selfishly, foolishly.  And I cannot continue the way I have.  Not for the good of Wulfbauer."  For the good of Wulfbauer.  By Ansgar, he was about to start a bloody civil war!  Had his people not suffered enough? 

The appropriateness of that sentiment occurred to him.  They had always been "his people", but somehow those words seemed to hold more meaning for him now, sitting in this room.  He was a Duke.  Perhaps an unexpected one, but a Duke nonetheless.  As usual, that meant that Burrows was right, that he had to change. 

"I suppose the first thing is that she has to go," he said.  "Her and the child."  Perhaps the child was not even his.  Or maybe it would be best if that became the accepted truth around these parts.  He'd seen the eyes of the castle staff and guards, how they had all eyed the woman and babe with suspicion and then surreptitiously turned those same gazes upon their Duke.  Certainly a man with his stature was not a 'private person who is entitled to private affairs' but the sort of scandal that accompanied a bastard child was beyond what the people would tolerate.  Especially in Wulfbauer.

The next part was more difficult.  It took a very deep breath to resign himself to his fate.  It took an even longer breath, and a knot in his gut, for the words to come out.  "And the Duke of Wulfbauer needs to take a wife, one who will bear him a proper heir."

Erwin's face hardened at the thought, but he did not look away from Burrows this time.  No, it was time he acted like a Duke.  And it was time he listened to the advice of his Master of Coin, his adoptive fatherly figure.

"Just... choose me someone that will not drive me utterly mad."

[pomelo]

Burrows was prepared to have to continue his long-winded arguments to get Erwin to agree to the very things the young duke had just proposed. So when Erwin said, himself, that the woman would have to go and that he would - finally - have to take a wife, the old man was visibly relieved. And for the first time, something like (though not quite) sympathy was mixed into his troubled face.

Lord Burrows let out a long exhale, frown deepening. His next words were considerably softer, and spoken at hardly more than a whisper. As though he were worried anyone might hear him say them. "You can still provide for the babe. From afar," He didn't know how to describe the woman tastefully. But Lord Burrows was himself a father. "Send her to a childless, warm-hearted tenant farmer in Arbutus Vale. You needn't turn the child out with that... woman. It's the right thing to do; and it would be better for the child, as well."

As much as Lord Burrows had been intent on hearing Erwin agree to take a wife, the way he spoke the words now caused Burrows' brow to crease. "Yes," he began, the earlier anger gone from his tone, "it is time for you to take a wife, my lord. I think it can no longer be put off. But I entreat you to think, for a moment, that that may not be the sentence you imagine it. A wife may not be... be..." but trying to describe the appeal of the sensual Mae'leena left Lord Burrows flustered again, and he let the sentence trail off, before picking it up again. Though he didn't sound too much more comfortable, and he was silently grateful he hadn't needed to have this conversation with his own son. "But having a wife, someone steadfast by your side, can be a pillar of support. A confidant. Someone with whom you can have a private self."

He let out a long sigh, shaking his head, and finally poured himself some of the water. "As much as you may suspect me of wanting to, I can't choose your wife for you. But I can lay out some options for you," he said, rather wishing that they were financial options being discussed rather than young ladies. His wife had, blessfully, taken care of all of his own children's marriages. "And," he added, "give you my... recommendation."

And with those last words, Lord Burrows gave a very troubled frown indeed. A strange thing to accompany the mention of his own recommendation. And one that suggested he wasn't quite comfortable with it himself.

[Cambie]

Erwin leaned forward and wrung his hands in frustration, letting out a low mirthless snort. "It's funny how that works isn't it?  If only 'the right thing to do' came so naturally to me."  The thought of sending the babe off to some caring family had occurred to him before, but he wondered how much of a fuss that would cause - particularly from the child's mother.  The woman had trekked all this way to leave a child at the gates of Wulfbauer Keep, yet somehow the Duke had trouble imagining her letting go of her newborn so easily.  But maybe she'd do the 'right thing' like him.  He barely knew her, maybe she had one more surprise left in her.

The talk of a wife had the Duke slumping back in his own chair, looking defeated.  He waited until Burrows had filled his cup, before refilling his own.  "You know, I used to consider myself a romantic.  I used to assume that when the right girl came along and stole away my heart, then, perhaps, I would wed.  That her choice would be reciprocal, without any underlying intentions or motives.  Something built from real, actual trust and respect.  A true pillar of support.  Otherwise it is a sentence, for man and for wife."

He shook his head at the idea, however.  To a Duke (and he had to start being a proper Duke now, instead of playing at one), that had to be a ridiculous notion.  Of course people could support and confide in each other out of a sense of duty.  By Ansgar, half the castle staff probably only remained out of duty!  Was it really any different with a wife? 

Was it any different for him?  Maybe the real issue at hand was whether he was willing to do his duty for Wulfbauer.

He decided he was.

"You have my trust and my respect, Lord Burrows.  That is why I value your advice." He let out another slow exhale, this time more measured.  He sat up a little straighter, as if bracing for impact.   "What are my options?  Look to the other Duchies?  Wed the daughter of one of our allies still remaining in the city?"

A feeling of apprehension roiled in his gut at the sight of Burrows' frown.  "It's not Gabrielle Fleury, is it?  That woman is insufferable and if you suggest her, I will stick my head into a cannon."

[pomelo]

”I’m an old man, and in my experience, the old sayings are generally true: embers warm longer than flames. And love blooms better where it’s given room to grow.” Old Lord Burrows shifted uncomfortably. This was straying a little too far from business for his taste. But still, someone should probably say it. And if not him, then who? ”But it will be a sentence, you’re right, if you decide that’s all it will be.”

He shifted again, then cleared his throat, as though to signify that that was all he would say on the subject. Lord Burrows certainly had very little interest in counselling the brash young duke on love! He laid his hands on the table, adopting a more business-like tone now, moving onto the real matter at hand.

”Actually, my lord, I would suggest rather the opposite. As I see it, one of your options is to use a marriage,” he colored only very slightly to already be speaking of it like that, after only moments ago assuring the young man that the marriage could still bring love, ”to bring some lords back into the fold. Reach out to one of the lords who has only lately been won over by Lord Kenins, or one still on the fence. It will show that you are forgiving, and that you are a reasonable man who is willing to strike reasonable deals. Off the top of my head,” that was a lie, he’d asked his own wife to go through the pertinent families the previous night, ”Lord Kensington has an unwed daughter and I hear was only convinced grudgingly of Lord Kenins’ cause. Abigail Kensington, his daughter, is just 17, but, well, has the best of her years ahead of her.” He coughed uncomfortably again. ”Lord Carrington’s daughter, on the other hand, is recently widowed. Lord Carrington hasn’t yet been won over by Kenins, but rumor is he’s waivering. The girl’s 28 and has no children yet, though, which could be rather a bad sign... But Lord Carrington isn’t one we want to lose. Amongst the somewhat more minor lords, I believe Lord Hartor, Lord Pettiton, and Lord Ainswick all have daughters of suitable ages, unwed.”

Lord Burrows poured himself another glass of water and drank from it. He was still troubled by what he was going to say next to Erwin. He could, in fact, hardly believe that he would suggest it. But he’d gone over it again and again and, he thought, it was the most sensible and tactical choice.

”Those are all one set of options. All would build bridges to important houses in the duchy. My recommendation, though,” he coughed, ”would actually be something rather different… Not a young lady with a connection to one house of Wulfbauer, but one with a connection to all of the houses of Wulfbauer. A continuation of the duchy’s past.” He frowned uncomfortably, meaningfully, hoping that Erwin would understand his meaning without him needing to say it explicitly.

[Cambie]

If you decide that's all it will be.

Erwin sat there attentively, drinking in that little bit of wisdom from Lord Burrows.  A marriage, no matter how planned or political, could work if he willed it to work.  Just like the Dukeship.  Somehow, Burrows' affirmation emboldened him and made him sit a little straighter.

When Burrows listed off his potential suitors, he grimaced slightly at the mention of Lord Carrington's daughter.  Erwin doubted that the Master of Coin would have been so versed in past social circles to know, but he had courted Devlyn Carrington many years ago before Lord Carrington had wed her off to a wealthy Earl.  They had been foolish youths then, but like all his previous romances, it ultimately had amounted to nothing.  Hearing her name again, though, brought about the realization that his past paramours had all gone off and married other lords.  They had borne children for their husbands, perhaps all of them in the name of duty.  By Ansgar, some of them had become widows and were ready to remarry while here he sat, a lifelong bachelor.  Burrows was right, he was an anomaly.

"Ah... perhaps not Lord Carrington's daughter, though I will speak with him myself and ensure that I do not lose his support," he said.  'How' would be a different matter, of course.  Between Valence and the Spring Festival, Erwin suspected that his reputation was precarious at best, even among those who had not sided with Kenins during the vote.

The end of the list brought about a raised brow.  "Is the purpose of this not to build bridges to the important houses?  What other choice could there be?"  He stared quizzically at the Master of Coin as his mind processed those subtle words. 

A connection to all the houses, a continuation of the duchy's past...

His eyes widened.  "Ansgar's beard, do you mean Constance?  You want me to marry Constance Carwick?  I can't do that to her!"

He sat back with an incredulous look on his face.  Gods, she would never agree to it! 

[pomelo]

He couldn't do it to her. Lord Burrows had expected push back on the suggestion, but he hadn't expected that.

"My lord, you must understand," he explained carefully, "if you take a wife, whoever it is, then Constance must marry someone. A new duchess can hardly be expected to tolerate her continued presence here. Especially after she has already performed some public duties reserved for the duchess. She's not a girl, you can't keep her as a ward. And you can hardly just... return her to the wild, as though she were some injured animal you've been nursing back to health."

Burrows let out a sigh and sank back into his chair. "The choice of course will be yours in the end. And if you disagree, then I won't press the matter. If not Constance or Lord Carrington's girl, perhaps the young lady Kensington. But please, allow me to make my case."

He shifted again, pouring himself another glass of water. How would he make his case? Without sounding too callous?

"First and foremost," he began, "think of the legitimacy a marriage to Lady Constance would offer you. Your children - your legitimate children - would be the grandchildren of the late Harlow Carwick, and thus continue a line - albeit through the mother - that has been ruling Wulfbauer for centuries. People will respond to that. Furthermore, it would bring the Carwick's private holdings officially back into the reserves of the duchy. I wouldn't underestimate the power of either of those to points to paint you as the more stable, traditional man to hold this title."

Lord Burrows paused for a moment, letting that sink in before he continued, with care. "I know she may not be a... conventional young lady, and in strict confidence, I can't blame you for not taking to the idea... But, well, she has her father's head for management. You should hear her in here with me, arguing about the proper use of her family's funds." He shook his head. Not typically the quality one looked for in a duchess, but... well... better that one of them have it. "I know you already take her counsel, whether or not I'd advise it. And it may or may not have occurred to you, but you and young Constance have suffered rather similar losses. You may actually prove a comfort to each other." In fact, Lord Burrows felt he had - without ever intending it - stepped into the role of surrogate father for both of them. Far better that they trouble each other than him. "It's what her father wanted for her."

A tense silence followed while Burrows debated just how to phrase the last - and biggest - argument. One he was sure Erwin would not like. He sighed again. Well. They may as well have the truth of it.

"And, well, your marrying the returned Constance Carwick will be big news. A distraction people can feel good about. And rather bigger news, I'd wager, than any other sordid and unsubstantiated rumors that may make the rounds."

[Cambie]

Erwin's brow wrinkled in exasperation at the talk of 'rumors' making their rounds.  "Yes, yes... I know that I've gone and mucked things up tremendously.  That is solely my fault.  By Ansgar, the farce never ends, does it?"  For all anyone knew, it wasn't even his child! 

But that was all beside the point.  He downed his water, wiped his mouth with a sleeve, and leaned forward.  "Perhaps she could help quell some of the rumors, provide some stability and normalcy to the Dukeship," he said.  "And yes, I do value her advice very much, as much as you value her.  She clearly is perfect for it, in every way.  She was born to be a duchess.  But by the GODS, Burrows!"

He stood and began pacing the room.  "Look, I know I've made enough fuss about how I'm not ready for a marriage.  But what of her?  You would put her through all this?  Has she not been through enough already?  Her father and mother are both dead.  She was manacled and bound and dragged north to those bloody camps.  I cannot even begin to imagine the horrors she witnessed.  You can tell she barely wants to be in this castle, let alone be my wife!  And yet here we are, asking a lifelong commitment of her." 

It occurred to him that he had used the word 'asking' when, really, he could simply command it.  What an abstract concept it was.  Maybe it was because she was a Carwick, and he still had difficulty reconciling the fact that a Therrien held greater power than that ancient house.  Truthfully, some part of him still felt as if he was only holding the Dukeship in trust for the old ruling family.

And, of course, in spite of his impassioned plea on behalf of her rather than himself (which irony he also recognized with a humorless laugh), Burrows once again did have a point.  If he chose a different bride, Constance Carwick likely would not be long for Wulfbauer Keep, and yet where else would there be for her?  Certainly 'returning her to the wild' would be a death sentence, regardless of just how unconventional or resourceful she might be.

He stopped and looked back to the Master of Coin.  His expression softened but remained troubled, trying to convince himself the plan would not -- should not -- succeed.  "She'll be bound to me for life, my lord.  For life.  That's a lot to ask.
Despite what people think, I actually have a conscience, and I... I do not know if I could do that to her."

His frown deepened.  "What is clear is that, if this is to happen, she will have to agree to it.  I'm not going to start forcing anything on a Carwick."

[pomelo]

'Perfect in every way' is certainly not how Burrows would describe young Constance's suitability to be a duchess. Or, for that matter, a wife! Erwin's agitated defense of how 'unfair' it would be to ask her to fill that role struck Burrows as a little displaced, though. It was easier, he thought, to fight someone else's corner than fight one's own. And that was what Burrows suspected was going on here: Erwin trying to save himself from having to marry the girl with the excuse that it was for her sake, not his.

"Of course we can find another young lady, but I have to say, my lord, I find your argument flawed. Surely the tribulations Constance has faced until now is exactly why it would be compassionate to give her a home here. A permanent home, and position. What better way is there to protect her, if that is your concern, from the horrors of the war? What you say is all the more reason to offer her a stable, safe life here. I feel I owe it to Harlow to ensure that some future is secured for the girl."

[Cambie]

Erwin tried in the back of his mind to reconcile his own argument with that of the Master of Coin.  Certainly, the Duke could see merit in keeping Constance in the heart of Wulfbauer and in a position of power -- at least on paper -- to guard her against the horrors she'd already faced.  But surely Burrows could see deeper than just the logic of the situation!

Or had the Duke completely misjudged her?  He knew little enough of Constance Carwick.  Indeed, a part of him still defaulted back to the days before the war, when he only knew her as the precocious daughter of the reigning Duke, when none of this mattered.  But as little as he knew her now, something about her character suggested that she would rather be left to her own devices than be crowned a duchess, not that the former was even a viable option.

"I had a difficult enough time convincing her to attend the Spring Festival," he offered lamely and halfheartedly.  What more arguments could he make in support of his position?  He already knew that his next suggestion -- that she just remain as a close advisor and counsel -- was untenable.  The moment he married, she would likely be cast from the Keep.

Shaking of his head, he stepped behind his chair and leaned forward over its back, looking pointedly at Burrows.  He already regretted acquiescing to a wife.  With a grimace, he said "Bring her in here, then.  See what she says on the matter and... if she agrees to it, then fine."   

[pomelo]

"But she attended," Burrows reminded him, for all the good that had been. The Spring Festival had been a disaster. But Erwin's command made the old Master of Coin's face crease in a frown, and he looked very uncomfortable indeed! Bring her... here? Burrows coughed and shifted awkwardly. He wanted Erwin married, true, but he didn't watn to be involved. All he wanted was a stable duchy so he could be left on his own to happily manage the wealth of Wulfbauer. He'd done quite enough shepherding around of the young, wayward nobles! He coughed, clearing his throat, "Ah... surely you don't propose to breach the subject with her... here? In my office? I think such things are dealt better between... Well... You don't want a dusty old thing like me about."

In other words: Anywhere else. Please. Anywhere. So long as he did it.

[Cambie]

"Why not?  This office is as good a place as any."

Erwin looked quizzically at Burrows for a moment before it dawned on him.

"Bloody hell, Burrows, surely you don't mean for me to go it alone, and try to convince her to marry me?  Me, the man who took her father's castle and then locked her in the East Wing?"

It was no use though, as the Master of Coin's uncomfortable look essentially said that this was as far as he'd bring Erwin.  The rest was upon in.  Gods.

"You know this will never work," he said with a fierce scowl, heading for the door and thankfully out of the old man's wispy hair for now.  He stopped at the entrance and looked back for a moment.  "Start considering my alternatives now, for when I inevitably come back here with my bad news."

And then the young Duke vanished, his frustration having done something rare by bubbling right to the surface.

---

It was evening by the time Erwin had calmed himself enough to even approach the heavy wooden door of Olive's chambers.  After all, he certainly wasn't going to convince anyone of anything in that flustered state of his.  Even now, as he lifted a fist to the door, he hesitated.  This was certainly the oddest way he'd ever courted a lady, if one could call this courtship.  But the more he thought about it, the more he had to admit that Burrows was nothing if not full of compelling arguments.

At least he was somewhat composed by the time he knocked on her door. "Constance," he called out with another low breath.  "It's Erwin."

[pomelo]

The Keep had been abuzz in the last days since the thief had returned - and with a child! Constance Carwick, for her part, had simply been trying to stay out of the way. The news was as troubling to her as it was to anyone else (though perhaps with a less dramatic flare when compared to much of the staff); it would make Kenins with his Connlaothian wife and four children look much more attractive to many. But Olive hardly thought it was her place to counsel the duke on any of that.

Plus, anyway, Olive had her own hands full. Smuggling out whatever valuables of her own to her compatriots still out there she could manage, little by little. It served as the monetary resources needed to provide safe (or as safe as possible) passage to fugitive mages out of Connlaoth. An underground scheme that even saw mages being funneled through the Keep's stables and storehouses. With help from certain members of the staff, of course. In that sense, the distraction of Erwin's dalliances was convenient cover to Olive's own endeavours.  Not that that gave her too much comfort; all of her work would completely unravel if Erwin were unseated as duke.

She was sitting perched in her window sill when the knock came at her door. And the quiet call of 'Constance... It's Erwin. She'd heard through the grapevine that Burrows might give Erwin a sit-down talk today, and Olive imagined this might be the end of her not-having-to-talk-to-Erwin-about-all-the-rumours streak. Perhaps he'd want to get her in his corner; try to convince her that he didn't really need to send the child away, that he didn't really need to find a wife. Well... Olive would try to stay as neutral as possible. But she knew very well that she wouldn't be able to really back him on either.

Olive pulled open the wooden door, giving Erwin both a short, polite smile and a curious look. "Good even- " but she was cut off by the now half-grown shepherd pup Kipper bounding forward and bouncing up to Erwin. "Kipper, heel!" But when the pup didn't comply, Olive scooped him up in her arms. He was a bit too big for her to do this comfortably now; he was an armful and the puppy squirmed and turned to lick Olive's face. Finally she let him down, but content with the chaos he'd caused, he laid down on the rug, tail thumping happily against the floor.

"Sorry about that," she mumbled while wiping the puppy kisses off her face. All very graceful and dignified. "Anyway," she looked back up at Erwin, "what can I do for you?"

[Cambie]

His prepared words had already deserted him by the time Olive opened the door, so instead Erwin took the moment to smile down at the eager pup, giving him a playful muss on top of the head.  "He's grown," the Duke noted rhetorically before looking back to her.  "May I come in?"

The moment he shut the heavy wooden door behind him should have been an indication of the seriousness of the coming conversation.  He was still trying to decide what to say when he realized the uncomfortable silence that had sprang up between them.  And the fact that he was staring off at nothing in particular.

"I really don't know any other way to say this, Constance, and I know that this will need some explanation but..."

Recollecting himself, he let out a long exhale and met her gaze.  Might as well start with the shocker.

"Constance Carwick, I would ask for your hand in marriage."

[pomelo]

Wait, what?

Olive stared at Erwin with the look of someone who was expecting at any moment to realize they’d not heard something quite right. Yes, true, when he’d come to her quarters and shut the door behind him, she had expected some quasi-personal conversation to follow. But she thought it would be about, well, maybe whether or not he should keep the child in the Keep. Or maybe even the mistress. Or maybe she’d expected that, right, he’d want to talk about whether or not he’d have to marry now.

But marry, well, someone else. For a million reasons. For a million reasons before she even considered what she would want.

Surely she’d misheard him. But there he was. Looking at her, silent. As though he had indeed said it.

”Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a mage." Her reply came out very matter-of-fact. As though Erwin were pulling her leg. Or as though he’d suggested they become unicorns, and she’d had to tell him to stop being silly, that wasn’t possible. Maybe he was pulling her leg. Maybe the famous teetotaller had finally wandered into wine cellar.

”Look, I know you’re in some hot water now,” she offered, posture relaxing a little, deciding to decide that he surely wasn’t being serious, ”but I don’t think you’re that starved for choice.” With the last words, she flashed him the smallest of smiles, one that seemed to say, Because we both know you’re not serious. Right? You’re not serious. Right?

[Cambie]

"Aye, because this whole marriage thing is by 'choice,'" he said sarcastically before shaking his head with a sigh.  "Look, I know it sounds ridiculous.  It sounded that way to me too, but the more I think about it, the more I fear that it's the right choice.  Ansgar help me, I actually agree with Lord Burrows for once."

He gestured for her to take a seat on her bed, and pulled the small chair from the desk and placed it opposite her.  "Let me make my case first, and then you can decide that I've gone mad and kick me out."  As he sat, Kipper bounced over to the two of them, alternately cycling between her and the Duke and panting with excitement.  It wasn't everyday that he had more than one friend to play with!  Erwin scratched behind the pup's ear, but the troubled look remained on his face. 

Another exhale.

"Your hand in marriage would bring stability to this duchy.  You saw how the people at the Spring Festival regarded you.  I saw it too.  Generations of Carwicks ruled from this castle, and I do not think they're quite ready for a Therrien to take the reins yet.  Or at least maybe not a Therrien by himself."  He frowned.  "Yes, in a way I would be using your family name to consolidate my own power.  I do not know any other way to describe it."

"You also have a head for all of this," he continued.  "You're knowledgeable, have experience and insight into how this duchy should be run, and you know all the right moves.  I value your counsel more than you might realize and, frankly, without it I probably would have been banished from Wulfbauer Keep by now."

[pomelo]

As though any of this were about choice.

The way he spit that out at her. Even if it hadn't exactly been directed at her. That stung. Of course the idea of marriage - now, and to her - wasn't a choice Erwin Therrien wanted. Olive didn't expect anything more than that. (She hadn't even expected this in the first place!) But there was something, well, frankly cutting about being reminded that of course this wasn't what he wanted. What man in his right mind would want to marry a boyish, stubborn mage? Much less a nobleman. Much less a duke. Unless, of course...

"And it's awfully convenient for you. Convenient timing."

It would have been better not to say that at all. And maybe normally Olive wouldn't have. But his words, his demeanor, cut her. And she hated that they had. She shouldn't care. The whole situation suddenly had her on the defensive. Trapped. That was a familiar feeling, and something in her eyes blazed.

"But you can't say you've had no choice in the matter. You've had plenty of time to take a wife of your choosing, without needign to make a last-ditch effort in desperation. You chose this situation yourself, my lord, even if you didn't realize it." She cut herself off, even with her temper up, she knew she was out of turn. But she gave Erwin a hard look. You chose this. Refusing to marry. Bedding a thief. A bastard child. You chose it, Erwin Therrien, her silence said, not me. It wasn't her normal tract to worry about the propriety of other people's affairs. On a personal level, she didn't care much what he did. If he'd been some minor lord or rich tradesman's son. But he wasn't. He had responsibilities. He had a duty. The same duty in whose name her own family had sacrificed so much. In whose name she had.

Yet Olive couldn't help but think Erwin Therrien thought himself the victim here. Maybe he was, but of his own making.

But.

Feeling suddenly annoyed that she'd been led to sit down on her own bed - as though she weren't capable of deciding herself, as though she were too weak to bear this news on her own two feet - Olive walked briskly over to her window, arms crossed and back to Erwin. Kipper watched the tension in his human with confusion, looking up at Erwin with a cocked head. But she listened to his words. Or, she guessed, someone else's words he'd been convinced of. Sourly, and unfairly she knew, Olive wondered if Erwin could even have managed that on his own. Olive knew her temper had gotten the better of her. She knew that her instict to fight had grown too strong and that this wasn't the time for it. So she stood in silence at the window for some time, looking out into the murky grey dusk.

"And what," she broke the silence without turning to face the duke, "will you do when the Grand Duke, or one of his allies, or the Church marches against Wulfbauer for making a known mage your 'wife'? Will you send out your troops to defend her - and, at the sametime, your own sovereignty - and ask the men of Wulfbauer to spill their blood over one woman? Or will you hand her over, undermining your own authority in the process? Have you thought about that yet? Because that is likely another choice you may have to make."

Olive frowned at her own reflection in the mirror, letting out a long breath, before turning back to Erwin, anger somewhat subsided now. "You think I was raised for this, or that I have 'a head for it', but I wasn't. Avery was. And Avery is gone. Perhaps I was in my father's counsel more than most daughters would have been, but..." She looked at Erwin, as though asking him to understand. "Erwin, I was eighteen the last time I saw them. The last thing I heard from them was a letter from my mother, telling me to cooperate with the government. Since then, my life has been as far away from all of, all of this as you can imagine. I... I don't know that I'm who you think I am."

There was an edge to her voice. Olive heard it without knowing herself if it was just emotion, or a warning.

[Cambie]

A wry smile came across Erwin's face at her accusatory tone.  Not a hint, but a full toothy grin.  And there was absolutely no joy in it, given that her words dripped with absolute truth.  Erwin was almost glad that Olive had turned away so that she wouldn't see this, the face of someone who had come to realize that his transgressions were all coming back to haunt him now.

"Look, I'm not hiding from any of that now," he answered.  "Yes, this is all my own doing, the consequences of my male naivety.  Yes, what I propose is awfully convenient for me.  I'm sorry that I even had to come to you with this."

His face hardened again with resolve.  "But I want to do right by Wulfbauer"  I need to do right, he thought.

Perhaps she intended her question to be unanswerable, and likely there was no correct answer that a Duke might give that would appease all listeners.  That was the way of politics, he supposed, unlike in the army where soldiers followed orders.  How else could he answer now but truthfully, from his heart? "My wife would be the Duchess of Wulfbauer, and representative of the duchy itself.  If it came to that... I would defend her with all my strength.  And I would expect any man of Wulfbauer to do the same."

Her next words also softened his expression.  It was so easy to forget all that she endured just to make it back this castle, only to find that it was not as she remembered it. 

"Constance..." he said after a pause.  "You and I both.  But you think too little of yourself.  You know more about the needs of this duchy than any woman I know.  Frankly, maybe more than some men."

Including him.

"You are exactly who I think you are.  Someone who can be trusted to do the right thing.  That's why I am here, because I'm also trying to be that person."

[pomelo]

He was sorry that he even had to come to her with this. Yes, Olive believed that. But it was what he said after that made Olive stop. ’You are exactly who I think you are.  Someone who can be trusted to do the right thing.’

Was she? Olive had done many things, and most she believed had been the right thing. But would Erwin think the same? And what he was proposing… that he was proposing… was that the right thing? Because Olive already knew, deep down, that if he thought it was, if he genuinely asked her to do this for Wulfbauer, she would. Perhaps that knowledge hadn’t crystallized in her mind yet, but it weighed on her all the same. Like a sack of coal on her chest.

Especially how Erwin had answered her question. It hadn’t been a hypothetical. It had been very real. And his answer made her chest tighten almost in a panic. An attack on his wife would be an attack on the Duchess of Wulfbauer. And thus an attack on Wulfbauer. ’I would defend her with all my strength.  And I would expect any man of Wulfbauer to do the same.’ So much blood had been shed in this war. So much blood had been shed because of her. She couldn’t let more be shed. And, suddenly, she knew she had to tell him more than she had until then. It would change his mind, hopefully. But even if it didn’t, she’d have to tell him regardless.

”Erwin,” she started tentatively, moving to sit on the bed again, across from the man who would be her husband, ”I… I don’t know if I’m that, anymore. But I’m not just an escaped mage. Though that would be enough.” She kept level, earnest eye contact as she told him this. ”After I escaped, while I was still in the camps even, I took up arms against the government. Against the army. I’ve attacked military infrastructure. Barracks. I’ve killed men. Justly, I hope. If killing, even in war, is ever just,” she frowned, deflating a little as she said this, eyes darting temporarily down. She wasn’t sure anymore. Was any part of this war just? But what choice had they had? What choice had she had?

She knew then that if this did change his mind about this crazy idea of marrying her, it might change his mind about her in general. And then what? She hadn’t lied to Erwin about this up to this point. She just, well, hadn’t mentioned it. And he’d never directly asked. Olive let out a breath, then looked back up at Erwin. Now you know. And suddenly she felt vulnerable; self-conscious. Because she realized she cared whether or not this changed how Erwin saw her. In the months since she’d come to Wulfbauer Keep, she’d come to respect Erwin in a way. She felt, somehow, she’d found something of an ally in him.

[Cambie]

"No, you're not just an escaped mage, you're C-"

Her next words silenced him.  I took up arms against the government.  Against the army.    He'd heard the reports, of course, of the mage camp uprisings and the rebel ambushes on unsuspecting soldiers. 

I've killed men.

That took him by surprise more than he would have liked to admit, likely because he'd harbored an admittedly narrow idea of who she was.  Who she is.  She was the daughter of Duke Harlow Carwick, and a noblewoman, and it was easy to forget that she had to endure horrors that most men and women could not even stand to imagine.  How could an innocent young woman like her do such things?

He wrung his hands and then looked down at them for a long moment, before meeting her gaze again.  "Constance..." he began, thinking of how to approach the topic.  He couldn't say that he understood her, because uttering those words would be marginalizing all her experiences.  Could he really say that he'd experienced the same thing?  He'd killed men too, but on the field of battle.  Did those scenarios even compare?

His eyes dropped and he exhaled softly.  "Constance, this country is falling apart.  We all have a hand in it.  Ansgar knows I've killed men too.  Just or not, nobody is innocent in this.  What I care about is what we do next though." 

Her words rang in his ears long after they'd been spoken though.  If killing, even in war, is ever just.  He had no answer to that.  Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck, and said quietly, "There may be more killing to come, yet."