Chapter 33: An Aide’s Worry.

Chapter 33

The heavy, shadow-draped air of the Duke’s private sanctum remained undisturbed by the frantic winter gales howling outside the fortress walls. Within this inner room, the very architecture whispered of conquest and absolute military precision; extensive tactical maps of the Arkovian realm lined the dark stone walls, pinned down by iron daggers, while medals of exceptional war achievement glinted coldly from every available nook and cranny.

Standing rigidly by the high, arched windows that overlooked the inner courtyard, Orion kept his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the snow-dusted grounds below before he slowly turned to face his master. The aide’s countenance was clouded with an uncharacteristic anxiety, his posture taut as he addressed the massive figure seated behind the heavy mahogany desk. "Your Grace," Orion began, his voice dropping into a low, resonant register that carried the full weight of his concern, "I must implore you to grant me clarity. Why did you truly agree to bind yourself in holy matrimony to Lady Sigrid? Of all the houses in the realm, why her?"

Duke Soren did not immediately offer the courtesy of a reply, his quill continuing its steady, rhythmic scraping across a thick sheet of official parchment as he authorized the deployment of northern border garrisons. The sheer scale of the man cast a commanding shadow over the entire desk, his physical presence as unyielding as the mountains surrounding his stronghold. After a deliberate pause, the warlord paused his hand, lifting his dark, piercing gaze just enough to meet his aide’s eyes before looking back down to sign his seal. "Since when am I required to state my sovereign reasons for selecting a bride to my own retinue, Orion?" Soren countered smoothly, his tone remarkably calm yet laced with the natural, terrifying authority inherent to his bloodline.

Orion’s brow furrowed deeply, the frustration tightening the lines of his face as he stepped away from the frosted glass. "It is not my place to demand an account, my lord, nor do I wish to overstep the boundaries of my office," the aide replied, his hands clenching slightly at his sides. "Yet the entire court knows you could have commanded the hand of any highborn maiden in the empire. The grandest houses would have yielded their daughters to secure an alliance with Aethermor. And yet, you chose a disgraced lady with no familial backing, a maiden discarded by her own flesh and blood."

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackle of the hearth fire burning behind the desk. Soren remained quiet for a long moment, carefully dusting the wet ink with fine sand before he leaned back into his high-backed leather chair, his expression unreadable. "The answer is entirely simple, Orion," Soren stated, his deep voice vibrating through the quiet room. "I chose her because she was, by all accounts, the most convenient option available to me. You are well aware of how my very name strikes an unhinged terror into the hearts of the southern maidens; they look upon me and see only a monster born of blood and slaughter. Her boldness in proposing to me directly saved me the tedious, exhausting hassle of searching for a willing duchess. She simply saved me time."

"But surely convenience cannot be the sole metric for a union of this magnitude!" Orion pressed, stepping closer to the desk, his northern steel demeanor fracturing under the weight of his suspicion. "She is a Beaufort, born of a court that remains utterly blind to our true ambitions, looking upon us as nothing more than a provincial threat. There are too many variables at play to simply accept her hand out of mere convenience."

Soren picked up a heavy iron paperweight, turning it idly over his large, calloused palm. "Orion, you are troubling your mind far too much with matters that are already settled. I can fully comprehend your protective worry, but I assure you, "She does not possess the power to interfere with our grand designs. She is a solitary bird in a cage of stone."

"With all due respect, Your Grace, she is no ordinary bird," Orion countered seriously, his voice rising by a fraction as he recalled the chilling events of the morning tour. "When I guided her past the western tower and she looked upon the execution grounds, she did not flinch, nor did she cower in fear as any standard lady of the capital would have done. Instead, a wicked, knowing smirk touched her lips. She looked upon the stained stone and murmured that she expected nothing less from the Iron Duke. She possesses a terrifying affinity for darkness."

Soren raised his head immediately, his dark eyes narrowing to sharp slits as he focused entirely on his aide’s words. The casual indifference vanished from his posture, replaced by the lethal focus of a commander evaluating a sudden shift on the battlefield. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ

Orion took the sudden movement as encouragement and continued, leaning over the edge of the desk. "Even now, as I watched the scene unfold from this very window, she displayed an authority that defies logic. She single-handedly persuaded Lady Hildegard’s personal jewelry merchant to abandon the fortress in a state of absolute, unadulterated panic, abandoning his cargo and fleeing as though his very soul had been wrenched from his flesh."

"Persuaded?" Soren repeated, his voice dropping into a dangerous, intrigued rumble. "A merchant favored by my stepmother would not easily abandon his profits for a simple request from a stranger."

"The more accurate term would be compelled," Orion clarified, his sharp features taut with a deep skepticism. "She did not raise her voice, nor did she brandish a weapon, yet she broke his resolve within a matter of moments. I could see the man shivering from across the courtyard."

"Hmm," Soren muttered softly, a low sound of profound amusement escaping his chest as he placed the paperweight back onto the desk. "She really is an extraordinary anomaly. I performed a rigorous investigation into her background after the ball. The reports from the capital were unanimous: before two weeks ago, she was a thoroughly timid creature, a quiet maiden who never made a scene and remained perpetually hidden within the solace of her father’s estate especially after the former duchess died and famiky troubles began. But after that specific date, it seemed as though a butterfly had been let out of its dark cage. She emerged entirely altered, her actions laced with an absolute, lethal freedom."

"Your Grace?" Orion questioned, his frustration escalating at his master’s apparent fascination with the woman’s traits.

"The most surprising aspect of our brief interaction occurred when I carried her into the guest suite," Soren continued, his eyes drifting toward the flames as he recalled the sharp fragrance of summer that clung to her. "Even being brought into the heart of my stronghold, surrounded by my specialized soldiers, I did not sense a single tremor of fear within her spirit. She looked upon me with absolute clarity."

"And that is precisely why we must treat her as a severe threat, Your Grace!" Orion exclaimed, his frustration finally clinging to his body like a heavy cloak. "This is no light matter to be dismissed as a mere curiosity. She may very well be a highly trained spy dispatched by the royal family to keep a constant, watchful eye on your movements. Her lack of fear is not natural; it is the mark of a seasoned operative who has been meticulously trained to withstand intimidation."

Soren dropped his heavy silver pen onto the blotter, the sharp click echoing like a gavel through the silent study. Orion stopped speaking instantly, recognizing the unspoken boundary. Soren placed his hand to his chin, his mind wandering back to the late hours of earlier today when they had spoken alone in the grand guest room. He remembered asking her directly what true purpose she harbored in proposing to him, and she had met his gaze with unyielding brilliance, declaring that he was simply the most suitable husband for her grand designs. Throughout that exchange, his seasoned instincts—instincts sharpened by a decade of detecting treachery in the vanguards of war—had not sensed a single lie, nor a shred of deceit. She had spoken the absolute truth, entirely unconcerned with the terrifying consequences of her words, her crimson eyes shining with a frighteningly pure resolve.

Soren picked his pen back up, his features hardening into a mask of absolute authority as he addressed his subordinate. "Do not worry yourself regarding her loyalties, Orion. I can assure you with absolute certainty that she is not an agent working for the royal family; she has severed her own ties with her own family to be an agent for the royal family for this to be a simple ruse. You may continue to keep a vigilant eye on her movements, but ensure that everything she requires is provided to her at all costs. After all, the chosen bride of the Duke of Aethermor must be treated with the highest dignity. If she should ever perform an action that threatens the security of this territory, I will personally take care of her." Soren’s voice dropped into an ominous, freezing register that left no room for negotiation. "We cannot allow any unknown variables to affect our ultimate plan."

Without another word, Soren rose from his desk and swept out of the private study, his heavy fur cloak billowing behind him as the door clicked shut. Orion remained standing by the window alone, his jaw clenched as he turned his gaze back toward the snowy courtyard where the strange new Duchess had once stood, the lingering weight of his suspicion still burning brightly in his chest.