Chapter 126: Strange girl in Fillipo?

"Am glad you find it to your liking, my lord." Karl nodded his head and observed Edmond's face closely.

"I need this." Edmond rose to his feet. "How much do you value it? Just name a price. Gold, land, whores—anything you wish, just say it."

"I'm grateful for your generosity, my Lord Edmond, but it seems that I'm well beyond deriving any pleasure from such activities now." Karl clasped his hands together, his words measured. "But if I may make a request, then I would be very grateful if you would be gracious enough to consider including my youngest daughter Reneé in your group traveling to the capital. I have heard that there is a chance of finding a suitable match for her over there."

"Done." Edmond made a dismissing gesture, having lost his interest in the painting and becoming more interested in the new subject of conversation. "Espada usually travels alone, he can benefit from company as well."

"That is very generous, my lord." Karl pulled the cloth and covered the painting again.

Edmond nodded and sat back into his chair contentedly. "You are a fine fellow, Karl. Truly. Osbel has been offering me nothing but wine that he talks endlessly about." He made a vague gesture towards the bottle between them. "Join me, take a seat, drink with me."

"Sure, my lord." Karl went across the room and sat in the other chair, poured two drinks from the bottle and set both glasses before them. Edmond lifted his in an absent toast and drank all of it in one gulp, then slammed the empty glass on the table.

Karl put his glass down too, which was almost full, and cleared his throat. "I have almost forgotten to say something else about the town, my lord."

"You did forget, the way you were sitting there looking at nothing." Edmond snorted a little laugh, relaxing further into his chair. "I really don't care, quite honestly, but go ahead, tell me. I've got nothing better to do until the food gets here."

"There is an odd girl who lives in this town." Karl did not look up from his own glass of liquor, slowly rotating it in his hands. "She doesn't look particularly odd from a distance. However, I have been told, by several people, that there is another entity inside of her. Some kind of spirit, ghost is the term I will use."

Edmond snorted again, waving a hand dismissively. "I have heard such stories many times. More often than not, these stories end up being a great story told just to make others listen."

"You likely have, my lord, but this girl has deep connections with both Lady Diana and Lord Hakimi Morrow." Karl raised his eyes at last and met Edmond's gaze steadily. "And there's a young man living with her who has made himself into quite a character around Fillipo. I saw her myself just a couple of weeks ago at Lady Diana's birthday party here in this very palace. I've never seen such strength in one who's that small. And from what I can tell, the power in this one doesn't seem to be something that's come recently either. It's been around for more than a century, if rumors are to be believed."

He paused thoughtfully before speaking again. "I simply wanted to tell you that she's quite remarkable enough to warrant your interest, my lord. I know you've seen many things in your travels. But if there's any one thing worth bringing out of a place like Fillipo, it would be her."

Edmond leaned forward slowly, interest finally flickering in his restless eyes. "I'll examine her personally, then."

…

Mirabelle sat facing Osbel in his study, with her hands clenched in her lap and a furrowed brow. "I'm a little worried about him, the prince."

"Espada?" Osbel lifted his eyes from the papers on his desk.

"I attempted to speak to him, just briefly, in passing," she shook her head slowly. "He hardly responded. He just stared at me until I was silent."

"You needn't concern yourself over it." Osbel went back to his papers, unperturbed. "It's obvious the boy is not into pleasantries. It's not a matter of being rude, I'd guess."

Mirabelle paused for a second as she twisted her fingers around one another. "Osbel, how well do you think Diana and the prince know each other?"

Osbel stopped his pen in mid-air, lifting his head to look at her slowly.

"I am not trying to suggest anything." She quickly added, lifting her hands. "I'm just wondering, you see. Since they are almost the same age, they were both brought up inside palace circles."

"Honestly?" Osbel put down his pen completely, mulling over his words. "I don't recall the boy enough to give you an accurate answer to that. What I could tell you is that he's a year or two older than Diana. Then, several years ago, he was just gone from any social scenes at all. Not heard from by anyone in the courts since. Only learned about it today that he's been with Lord Edmond all this while."

"For ten years, it appears." Mirabelle frowned further. "He seems to be quite disciplined at least. A diligent worker, based on what little Edmond said. A young prince who trained so vigorously, so quietly, for so many years." She fell silent, looking out the window. "Do you think he knows anything of Hakimi?"

"No idea." Osbel shook his head. "No idea whatsoever."

…

Steam rose from the pot on the stove as Felix stirred it lazily with a wooden spoon, with his sleeves rolled up above his elbows. Dune was standing next to him at the counter and was organizing her vegetables in a line. She was holding the knife in one hand as though performing some sort of surgery.

"You're overthinking the carrots," Felix said glancing at her from the side.

"I am not overthinking," Dune replied looking with concentration at her carrot. "I am making sure they are of even size. You said even size cooked better."

"I said that once in the distant past," Felix reminded her. "Not some kind of sacred rule."

"That was very useful advice," Dune cut the carrot into four parts, but suddenly frowned at one which was slightly larger than the others. She set it aside.

"Are you not going to eat this one?" he asked pointing to that carrot.

"It will cook slower. It should not be among the others." She said it with total seriousness, like the carrot had personally betrayed her.

Felix snorted and shook his head, turning back to the pot. "You've become strangely picky about vegetables."

"I have standards now."

"You have standards." He laughed and repeated himself, smiling. "Since when?"

"Since you told me I did not have any."

"That was once. And that's because you ate a whole loaf of bread in one sitting."

"I haven't done that for three weeks."

"You did it four days ago."

Dune stopped, knife still hovering in the air. "That doesn't count. It was a small loaf."

"It was not a small loaf, Dune, and I saw you carry it home. The loaf was as big as your torso."

"It was small compared to a bigger loaf." She returned to cutting, unfazed by his correction.

Felix laughed quietly, stirring the pot and breathing in the aroma of the broth and herbs that were wafting through the little kitchen. He looked over at her, in the precise, almost sacred manner she placed the cut carrots in a row on the cutting board, all oriented the same way, and he felt something in him melt softly.