Somewhere Someplace

Blossom stood in place in a silent line amongst the rest. Before her sight was a dinner, though not for her or them; rather, they who so feasted and laughed in their stead, fattening themselves from the fruits of others’ labor. There was, of course, a single exception to this harsh critique; one at whom her attention could not help itself but…stare.

It felt like practically forever since Blossom was last assigned to this duty of…dinner-watching. These past two weeks had seen her group’s overseeing maid ensure that Blossom stayed away from the Berrybottoms, and especially this most hallowed of duties. However, this day, this night, such was beyond her authority.

For indeed…

Flanking the doors to this sizable chamber were two armored and armed men, mirrored by another pair on the other end; silent and whose presence conveyed protective oversight.

Blossom’s nose whiffed the scents around… The extra aroma was evident, the meals—although hastily prepared—having been made with the most expensive of imported ingredients, spices, and other flavorful elegances.

This was no ordinary dinner; rather, one more special and…dignitary.

For this day, this night, the Berrybottoms had a surprise visiting guest. And judging from that man’s attire, it was evident that he was of grander status and wealth than the Berrybottoms—a fact made further evident by Sir Berrybottom’s so-prescribed ‘tail-sucking’ behavior…

Truly, he might as well wear a maid’s outfit with how much he… “Oh… That was close…” Blossom caught her running thoughts before they could be blurted… Yet, even so, she could feel sudden glaring eyes from those near enough… She quickly ahemed…

Indeed, due to this special guest’s presence, there were even more maids—juniors and propers alike—on dinner-duty this night… And not even to do any work or even observe and learn, but rather to…literally stand with submissive elegance and dutiful readiness. They were, to put it bluntly, servants being flaunted for show by the Berrybottoms.

And, of course, owing to the nature of this specialier than usual dinner, Madam Berrybottom and the youngest daughter, ‘Gem’, were both absent—‘women need not be involved’ sort of affair, besides, of course…the maids.

Most truly, one could only wonder what was being tacitly implied by having such ‘docile’ servants as the only women present in this chamber… To be put on display as mere tokens of status and prestige… Indeed, where were all the butlers and male servants? Why were they not being flaunted so?

Regardless, needless to say, the only Berrybottom’s present beyond the Sir himself were the two remaining sons, Swordstaff and Billhook—Billhook looking even more…alluring this day.

Not that he was handsome or anything—or rather he was—but not that… Not that he was… Not that she…cared at all… She did not; she absolutely did not

Yet hoof could she stare at him all day… His sight was one that could free her mind almost. It made her not contemplate or think about the happenings of this rather long day… It made her forget of those events earlier this short yet…impactful month… That cold dread and burning anxieties replaced with such…respiting warmth.

Indeed, none of those events nor all those implications thereof…mattered this moment. All her mind could focus on was Billhook, who was…rather quieter than usual—no doubt due to that special guest’s presence. Billhook was certainly a free-minded one, yet he was not stupid enough to embarrass his father during such occurrences—a shame, indeed…

However, this moment of her allured gaze was unable to last, for it was so ruined by the piercing cringe inflicted by a certain other’s glare…

Swordstaff, seated on the table’s side that directly faced her line, had long noticed her presence, and he would not stop glaring at her. Although she had tried her best these past two-weeks to avoid him, she obviously could not do so this night… And it was so obvious that someone still held their last encounter fresh in mind.

Odd, indeed, considering that Swordstaff had not made their…incident…a greater problem when he was absolutely able to; he had not levied any complaints whatsoever to his father. Such only made his glare of utter contempt all the more…weird… She would prefer if he would stop, frankly; it was perhaps…deeply unsettling—creepy, even.

“Bah!” so scoffed Sir Berrybottom; “Count Humbleface was a fool!”

Hmm, what were they even talking about? Blossom mused in mind.

“Enlighten me, how so?” The guest seemed amused. He was situated near the Sir, on the side directly facing the two sons; thus, all Blossom saw was the back of his…evidently greying head.

“The Alweny duke wants to formalize the loyalist armies into a single force under Grandberry’s temporary total-authority; anyone not wearing Smile’s Crown would have simply followed along given the times we are in” thus the Sir elaborated; “Now Humbleberry’s dominion has been left without souls to harvest whatever is left of their ashen fields, having paid the fools’ price”.

Blossom tilted her head… No, seriously… What were they so casually talking about?

“Hm…” the guest so pondered, elegantly dining upon cooked pinkly meat. “Consequences aside, you have not necessarily specified the ‘foolishness’…” thus he spoke; “Was it truly foolish for Humbleberry to stand its ground? For the count to defend his privileges and that of his vassals who expect him so? After all, the Duke in Grandberry seeks authority over the armies of his vassals and their vassals—a violation of the titular hierarchy, and we all know the permanency of temporary authorities” he challenged, respectfully.

“Bah… In the midst of a rebellion over such privileges? Yes! It was foolish!” Sir Berrybottom scoffed again; “Now, I am well-acquainted with Count Humbleface”—He had only met the man once—“and I know he’s no true separatist or traitor… However, to not only defy Grandberry’s wants, but also continue raising even more levies and arms… How was the duke not to interpret that as anything besides preparing for rebellion?”

An odd tension entered Blossom’s breaths… Was she understanding this properly, then?

“Hm…” The guest so sipped his wine; “You are an outspoken vocal, Sir Berrybottom; I find value in that” he simply remarked.

“Heh…” Sir Berrybottom was hardly humble; “I have to be! Because these kind of befallings only benefit us in the lower nobility—opportunity is taken, not handed…”

“Opportunity, now that is a sentiment most relatable” the guest so replied; “And I foresee many lucrative opportunities now that there are many holdings with vacant villages—a new demand for souls, and the land itself could even be repurposed for…capital endeavors”—he looked into the Sir—“and in this new age one does not need to be a titled feudal or fief-holder to own land or labor…”

Sir Berrybottom stared…before understanding. “Ah… Ahah!” he chuckled; “You suggest, Sir Walnut, that I…somehow buy the land and… What? Become one of those…‘plantation barons’, as they are called in the New World? Repopulate those villages with slaves?”

Blossom’s eyes filled with grim bleakness… She had lived in a village in Humbleberry a long awhile ago… A pleasant and…well…humble place. Truth be told, she really had no idea what to feel; it was hard to process… Everything here just felt so detached.

“Serfdom and plantation slavery, two notions not too different once you read the theories” the guest casually remarked.

“Bah, ‘theories’ ” the Sir so scoffed; “I have learned to stay away from those Far West ‘theories’…” His eyes glared at the quiet Billhook…

Though, speaking of silent sons…

“Swordstaff?” the Sir’s voice came lancing; “Have you been attending?” Indeed, his favorite seemed rather inattentive… “I have trained you, boy. You know better than to disrespect.” he chastised… calmly and situationally casual.

Swordstaff’s glaring eyes finally withdrew from that one maid who so tried to pay his stare no mind, turning to his father; “Huh?” he practically gawked; “Oh, of course, father… I was attentive; I was merely contemplating…”

The guest, however, chuckled; “Contemplating? Is that it? I saw those eyes, boy…” He momentarily turned himself and looked at all the maids behind and thus in front of Swordstaff’s sight, evaluating with rather the humored grin.

Hmm. Not an ugly face, Blossom had to admit, although there was something about this man’s expressions that felt…

Wait… She noticed…

The guest’s eyes had so abruptly…landed on…her…

Blossom’s expressions and stance were noticeably affected. Was… Was he eyeing her? Ew! That was the last thing she needed… A mid-aged olding man to start… Ew! Gross, gross, gross!

“Ah.” the guest so merely mumbled as if noting in mind, the cloud of Blossom’s bias-filtered perceptions obscuring his lack of perverted interest. Seconds having passed, his gaze promptly returned to the dinner at hand. “Oh, the burgeoning of manhood, to be at that age again…” he remarked humorously, looking at the Sir; “You must find him a consort or attendant, lest he bed them all and be bastards’ father, ha!” he jested.

“Haha…” Sir Berrybottom laughed, though perhaps more…awkwardly; he did not care for this sort of ‘humor’, frankly.

Blossom, meanwhile, had quickly moved on from what was…more common than not in these lands, a young lady to be given such eyes by those too much older. Instead, her attention shifted to Swordstaff… She could tell that he was hardly enjoying this moment, at which she could not help but sneer deep down within… So very embarrassed, indeed, he must be.

However, Blossom’s belittling smug was perhaps bleeding out into visibility, for Swordstaff took notice—or perhaps his mind superposed that which was not truly there. Regardless, he nearly growled, feeling utterly humiliated; though, he retained decorum.

Swordstaff merely ahemed, caressing the back of his neck; “Ha…ha… You are with the tongue, Sir Walnut…” he remarked, brushing this off… “No, no… As fetching as those girls are, I was…contemplating these…events…” Stature focusing, his eyes…glared at Blossom—vaguely enough as to not be obvious besides, save, to Blossom herself… “About the need to make example out of those too absorbed in pride and arrogance that they forget their place in this world; to remind them of what power truly is, and who is the one with it, wielding it…” thus he monologued; “And to remind them of their befitted place…”

“…” Blossom blanked… Surely, he could not possibly be so petty as to be directing...all of this towards her exclusively? Obviously not, that would be far too…self-absorbed on her part, yet…the way his eyes were… Indeed, she could not help but…shiver.

Though, he should really look in a mirror when speaking such words, truly…

Sir Berrybottom stared at Swordstaff… His father was somewhat taken aback from these sudden, perhaps slightly out-of-expected-character, words. He had not the insight into the depths of favorite’s thoughts, indeed.

The guest, however, leaned in with abrupt focus; “My oh my” he spoke with interest, glancing to the Sir; “What a son you seem to have, Sir Berrybottom; would that you had mentioned such earlier…”

Swordstaff caressed the back of his neck, his breaths bleeding with ego; “Well, I just believe that…power is worthless unless it is used… It only exists when it is wielded and must be kept when given”.

“A visionary sort, I can already see it…” The guest was fascinated.

“Yes…” Sir Berrybottom merely replied, a little awkward; “He has certainly been predestined by birth for greater purposes and to carry our blood forth…”

“Hm. I see.” The guest just simply eyed, before returning his sight to Swordstaff; “Well, do not leave me with silence, boy. Enlighten me, please, of your…proper thoughts on this Humbleberry affair. Surely, you have more?”

Swordstaff’s attention was now on the guest; all of his prior discontent was seemingly replaced with boyish pride and smuggish delight. He glanced at his rather pleased father before relooking at the guest; “Well… Uhm… My thoughts reflect my father’s; Humbleberry was both obtuse and foolish… As I said, power must be wielded to be kept, and the Alweny duke clearly understands that” thus he explained away; “However… I do feel the duke showed weakness too…”

The guest’s interest only grew; “Hmm? Well, do go on, boy. How so?”

Swordstaff leaned back, gathering his words; “Count Humbleface’s actions, mattering not intent, were seen as machinating insurrection… Accordingly, he and his vassals should have been made an example of to those with power… To raze their villages is one thing, but the duke should have stripped them all of their titles, seize their fiefs or raze them to ground too—hang them if necessary… Peasants are powerless and insignificant, to target them exclusively is weakness masking as strength; it demonstrates that the duke cannot enforce his will directly onto those with actual power supposedly subservient to his own…”

Hmm… Blossom had to admit, he somewhat had a point… Not punishing the titleholders with real power could be interpreted as weakness… Though, devastating the powerless villages was also weakness—merely a desperate attempt to feign control… Never mind a self-inflicted wound.

The guest leaned in, his chin resting on one hand while the other tapped away with his held utensil… “Hm. Interesting point…” he began to speak, “but I believe you might be—and I mean no disrespect, of course—missing a bigger painting…”

The smuggish pride immediately fled from Swordstaff’s being; though, he retained his decorum. “I fail to see how…” he nearly slipped, nevertheless.

“Hm. Well, Humbleberry’s dominion borders Riverberry, the border county having full control of the Dividing River and thus stands as the only guard separating the loyalists from the bulge, and—” the guest was saying…

“Yes, our house resides in the bulge” Swordstaff interrupted; “Strawberry is machinating with the other counties, we all know this”.

“Yes.” The guest was unbothered; “And to be clear, it is a matter of when Strawberry attempts to declare sovereignty with the rest of the bulge—and if my hearings from the Company are true, then something even worse could potentially be on the horizon…” he, again, was saying…

“I fail to see your point of how I am missing the painting…” Swordstaff, again, interrupted.

“Swordstaff…” His father, grumbling, eyed…

“Calm now” the guest reassured, still unbothered; “Now, as I was leading to: as you know, Riverberry was established to ensure Huckleberry’s martial control over the Dividing River—to shield against any invasive crossings while allowing the dutchy’s armies to cross. But…this history is only that: history… And in these past centuries, Riverberry has become…closer tied with Strawberry and the bulge; its loyalty is questionable these days thus, and if Riverberry were to join any rebellion in the bulge, purposes would invert: Strawberry would have a shield and a clean opening into loyalist dominion—Grandberry would face being squeezed in two directions”.

“I still—” Swordstaff tried to interrupt…

“Ah, ah…” the guest wagged his finger; “To finish: when Humbleberry showed a semblance of treasonous intent, Grandberry immediately struck at what mattered most: the fields and the souls who toil, pay taxes in coin and crops, and provide levies and men; by cutting such, the duke both removed Humbleberry’s threat and, most importantly, gave a no clearer nor stauncher warning to Riverberry…”

“The duke cut the head off the snake before it could bite its venom; he showed an example of the fools’ price that will be paid if Riverberry attempts similarly…” Sir Berrybottom inserted.

“Yes…” The guest eyed, before relooking at Swordstaff; “See, boy, there are always bigger paintings. And sometimes less is as decisive as the excessive; if the duke were to enact your penalties, he would cause yet another crisis by revoking the titles of such established houses—something he has not the right to do—and may even provoke further rebellion from the feudality”.

“Well, the rights of his vassals were only ever privileges granted to them; they can be as revoked as granted” Swordstaff countered…

“Not according to the concordances which bind liege and vassal” the guest merely countered.

Although the guest was seeing this as a respectable discussion, Swordstaff was seeing this as nothing more than him being utterly humiliated in front of his father.

“Beh, ‘concordances’…” Swordstaff openly scoffed; “I respect the Gods’ ordinances, but this year alone has shown that power by force is only the truest law—the Far West understands that; that is why they are the world’s rulers” he so claimed; “And Strawberry should have been razed to the ground ages ago! Burned and resettled. There would be no separatism this day, then”.

Blossom, desensitization taking hold, was beginning to lose interest… Not because she was disinterested in the subject—she, by merit of her birth, had…some interest. She just felt that—

“Bah…” Billhook grunted, his voice finally being freed… “You both are failing to see, if I may be blunt.”

“Pardon?” the guest, piqued, so turned his eyes…

Swordstaff immediately eyed with scorn.

“Billhook…” Sir Berrybottom nearly growled; “Do not dare to…”

“Berrybottom, do calm…” the guest reassured, before returning eyes to Billhook; “No… I want to hear… What is your contention, boy?”

“You all speak as if Humbleberry exists in isolation from Grandberry and the rest when it does not. And none of you see the fundamental problem with what Grandberry has done: weaken itself.” Billhook bluntly stated.

The guest leaned in; “Well, you know not to leave with silence. Do enlighten me…”

“Gladly.” Billhook thus continued; “By razing the fields and slaughtering the villages of Humbleberry, a county renowned for its yearly surplus of wheat, Grandberry has not only deprived itself of the potential taxes and men to levy, but also the potential yields… This year has been exceptionally dry, with crops being unproductive even here in the bulge. Humbleberry itself will face a bread shortage, but the prices from Grandberry to the bulge and elsewhere will further rise too, sowing the seeds for dissent maybe not amongst the nobility, but certainly the commoners.”

Ah… Truly, Billhook was that voice of reason Blossom could not help but feel alignment with the most; she could listen to it all day…

“Interesting…” The guest merely mumbled, interest only growing…

Yet… “Bah” Swordstaff, nerves pinched, scoffed; “The duke has already shown what happens to rebellious commoners: families hanged for display… If they revolt, then their villages should be burned! If the nobles join them, then their fiefs and manors should be burned! It is very simple: do not revolt!”

“Shortsighted as always…” Billhook so replied; “Burn and slaughter until, what? The whole realm is but nothing but ash? What would be the point then? To rule without a realm left to be ruled…” he stated; “And from where do you think we get the food on our plates? You cannot admit this, but we rely more on the commoners than they on us, and once they realize that…”

“Our separation was ordained by the Gods! We are their betters by birth! They respect our place, and if not, then they must be…reminded to” Swordstaff so countered; “And this ‘reliance’ you speak of is mutual: our blood carries authority; their blood carries servanthood; masters cannot exist without servants, and servants cannot exist without a master; both prerequisite the other”.

“So, commoners are no different than slaves, then?” Billhook so remarked; “I expect nothing less from you, Swordy, considering what you have been up to. We have all heard…”

“…Swordy…” Blossom nearly giggled… Not that she was enjoying this or anything… She was totally so bored and…disinterested… Totally…

Swordstaff growled; “That is a distortion, and you know it! I did not say that!” His voice became louder.

“No, but you implied it” Billhook countered.

“Well, you are the one saying it! Are you implying that slaves and commoners have a difference? I thought you valued them all ‘equally’? For you certainly love slaves more than family, Billy!” Swordstaff so bickered.

“No, that is not what I was implying. Slavery is abhorrent, which is why to be born enslaved by blood is also abhorrent. I should have the choice between being a governor or a carpenter…” Billhook stated.

“Tsk! You are a disgrace to your blood and our house! You were born a ruler not a—” Swordstaff was now rather…upset.

Yet… “We are not even titled feudals, Swordy…” Billhook cut him off; “You speak of power and rulership when we are a forgettable house of the ‘lesser nobility’ that only exists because of blood rights and nothing more… We are as bound to this land as the serf”.

However, before this could continue… “Enough!” Sir Berrybottom finally shouted, slamming his hand onto the table. Breathing in and out, he glared right into Swordstaff; “I expected this from Billhook, but you… You know better than to embars—” he was reprimanding, yet…

“My my…” the guest began to speak; “What sons you have…”

“Sir Walnut…” Sir Berrybottom, speech halting, blurted as he eyed; “I apologize for their—”

“Calm yourself, Berrybottom,” the guest, once again, so reassured, “I have taken no offense…” He stood himself up from his seat. “I certainly worry for the mouth of one”—he eyed Billhook—“whose radicalist tongue must be checked. And I am certainly concerned about the other”—he eyed Swordstaff—“whose autocratic impulses must be humbled”—he turned to the Sir—“But the fact you have two sons like this… I am impressed. They define what I appreciate most about you ‘lesser nobles’, your hearts’ ambitions always surpass your status” he remarked.

“Uhuh…” Sir Berrybottom was…bewildered; their bickering had actually…impressed?

The guest took one final sip of his wine; “I have spent this last short month visiting house after house, yet none have piqued me so as yours, I dare say. Your sons especially… A high-born liberal and a staunch absolutist; they are remarkably unboring—I cannot stress the importance of that”—he paused—“And I do have a daughter needing to be wedded…”

“Huh?” Blossom’s breaths nearly squealed… He had a…what?!

Swordstaff and Billhook immediately froze, looking at their father… Was that what all of this was about? Yet Sir Berrybottom was as bamboozled as his sons…

“Wait… That thus means…” Sir Berrybottom was struggling to say…

“Yes! By my word as the Earl of North Creamlight, your house has earned my interest, and I wish to prolong my stay to discuss…the future” thus spoke the guest, or ‘earl’ rather… His eyes shifted to Billhook; “And you, my dear boy, remind me of my daughter in many respects… Similar minds, for the better or—of my mind—for the worse. But similar still; I believe you two will connect most easily…” he hinted.

“I… I see…” Billhook had not the words…

Sir Berrybottom stared… The earl was implying he was interested in Billhook as the suitor—the last boy he was expecting to have impressed so… Billhook had already forsaken the last; thus, the Sir was hoping for Swordstaff, whose destiny was to carry their blood forth into greater futures—it had to be Swordstaff.

“Shall we…continue this elsewhere, then, Sir Walnut? This is…still much a surprise” the Sir politely suggested, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Let us so” the earl accorded, yet then his eyes…drifted to another in particular; “Fate colludes with Fortune, delivering two to hand…” his breath’s so quietly remarked…

Blossom, however, stood frozen, the soul having left her eyes… Ah… It seemed… She was never going to be given that chance, was she?

Certainly, what a day of many happenings…

Yet now begins a possible acceleration of plans

Depending on the cards played next

By he who spotted