Once he'd agreed to act on Saito's behalf Louise had been forced to go along with the idea. Guiche's first action was thus to meet with the Headmaster so that he and Vallière could request a leave of absence. If they were refused… well, they'd work something out.
Much to their surprise, however, they found that Old Osmond was currently in the middle of… well, it looked like packing. He acknowledged them as they entered but didn't pause his efforts. It was bizarre to see the old man dressed in something that wasn't his school robes. Instead he was in a well-worn traveller's outfit.
"Headmaster? Are you… leaving?" Finally, the teacher took a moment to focus on them. He leaned on his staff and regarded them as a small, white mouse circled around his feet. There was a certain resignation in his gaze even though he looked younger than they'd ever seen him. In deference to his overall oddness, however, his beard appeared to be tucked into his belt.
"The Crown has yet to ask for me to abdicate my position, if that's what you mean. Rather, I am taking pre-emptive measures. I intend to pursue the thief myself, and return the Staff of Destruction; having seen its power firsthand, I have no desire to leave it in unknown hands." That was startling. Certainly, the Headmaster was undoubtedly a powerful mage but…
"Ah. Well, we wish you luck then. However, before you go, we must ask a short leave of absence from school for… personal reasons." Osmond scratched at his beard with a thoughtful expression as he regarded the two teens.
"I see. Am I to assume, then, that your familiars shall accompany you on this venture of yours?" When Guiche nodded the old man grimaced somewhat, and let out a grand sigh. "Most unfortunate. Miss Vallière, I had hoped to request the services of your servant for my own journey; however, it seems I shall have to make do with Mótsognir."
"I am sorry, Headmaster. Under other circumstances I would have gladly granted your request, however…" Louise bowed her head. "This is a very personal matter for my servant, and I don't think it can wait." Osmond sighed again, and returned the gesture.
"Very well. You may have your leave; and I wish you luck." He stepped forward to give Guiche a companionable pat on the shoulder and allowed a grandfatherly smile to both of them. "Do listen to your familiar, young Gramont, and try not to get into too much trouble."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Guiche saw Louise off first; she'd said that she wasn't going to come with them but, rather, was going to go to the Capitol. Apparently she'd formulated a plan of some sort and, on the whole, didn't think she would be of much use in a direct confrontation. Saito would go with him to Mott's… mostly so that he didn't do anything foolish.
Now, however, came the most difficult part of all. He had to explain the situation to Kenneth. He'd located his absent familiar shortly after the quick planning session with the Vallière. The dwarf was in his forge, and as Guiche approached he appeared to be quenching something. There was an ominous, sputtering hiss as he stood over the hollow and looked in.
"Ah, Guiche. Good timin', lad. Ah've got something for ya." He pushed himself up with a little mound of dirt and went right for his master with gift in hand. Grinning widely, Kenneth thrust the finished chain shirt out in front of him.
It was rather pretty, actually. Guiche was momentarily sidetracked and took the armour from his familiar. Quite light, as well. He shrugged off his cloak and pulled it on, just to see how it rested. The answer was, apparently, 'perfectly'. He had to struggle a bit to get his arms through but once it was in place it rested slightly loosely and didn't interfere with his movements.
"Gotta get ya a prop'ly padded jacket as well, else ye'll get some nasty chafing. Still, suits you. Ah kin guarantee that there's but one blade in this world as can cut that, although if y'take a solid body blow or a heavy hit from a spike th' welds on th' individual links
can give way." The particular tone he used made it obvious that was probably an unlikely outcome.
"Thank you, Kenneth. This is… thank you." They stood there in silence for a couple of moments until Saito cleared his throat rather meaningfully. Guiche turned red, recalling the reason they were there. "Ah, right. I'm afraid, Ser Kenneth, that the young maid Siesta has been appropriated by the Count de Mott; possibly through some form of coercion. I feel I owe it to her to assist Saito in retrieving her before anything untoward happens."
Kenneth was very still for a time. Then he stepped back down into his forge and retrieved his axe. He gave it a few hefts, examined the edge and spike, then nodded to himself. Next he retrieved his armour, pulling it on and grabbing his cloak as he climbed back out of the hole. Finally, he grasped the straps to the massive, cloth-wrapped stone slab that he took almost everywhere with him and secured it to his back.
"Very well, then. Let's go explain t'him th' error of his ways. All nice an' polite like." The very worst part was that he seemed entirely calm. Guiche didn't realize how much he would've preferred furious, mouth-frothing ranting until right at that moment.
The skies grew dark as they set out. Saito was guiding the horse while Guiche clung on for dear life and tried not to cry. Kenneth had packed up a few more things, including his crossbow, and was keeping pace with the horse by, frankly speaking, cheating. Since he was unwilling to leave his slab behind this time he had instead chosen a bizarre form of travel that seemed to involve using his control over the earth to constantly fling himself forward.
With Saito's horsemanship and Kenneth's… Kennethness they were making good time. It was well, then, that they came into sight of Mott's manor just as the gathering clouds opened up and began to pour down upon them. They pulled up their horse in front of the gates and Guiche did his best to demand that they be taken to the Count in an imperious fashion. The rain made it a little difficult to maintain the facade, however.
They were, unsurprisingly, admitted with relative haste. Warm, fluffy towels were provided to dry them in the entrance hall and they were quickly escorted thereafter into a warm, comfortable sitting room with a roaring fire. In the presence of such opulence it was almost easy to forget why they had come. Well, for Guiche at least.
"Now, Saito…" He looked over to the attentive servant where he stood in the corner. Without Louise around, actually, he felt a little less 'attentive' and a little more… ominous. In retrospect, he probably should have asked the young man to hand over his various knives. Even then, he of all people knew just how many weapons that Saito could conceal upon his person.
"I understand this is a complex situation, Master Gramont, and I assure you that the ride has well calmed me." The young man cast a dark glance over at Kenneth. "In any case, I have no doubt that Ser Flamecutter could easily restrain me if I chose to act rashly." Perhaps… then again, he was terrifyingly fast.
"Pray, have some faith in me. I shall do my utmost; for your sake, and for hers. Though I know I cannot blame myself for what has transpired directly I still cannot help but feel a responsibility
to this girl." Saito remained silent, returning to his usual taciturn self, but Guiche could feel warm approval radiating from his familiar's seat. Now he could only hope his skill matched up to his resolve.
The door opposite to the one through which they had entered opened and an immaculately dressed maid entered. A fine silver platter with delicate china tea set was placed on the table before Guiche and Kenneth and she poured three cups before leaving the room. Shortly thereafter the one they had journeyed so vigorously to see arrived.
Count Mott was dressed in a luxurious velvet nightgown that bespoke a certain level of both comfort and elegance. In spite of what ought to be a state of undress, or embarrassment, he was both well at ease and secure in his personage and home. As he entered he smiled magnanimously at Guiche and bowed his head to Kenneth.
"Ah, young Master Gramont! So soon a visit? Well, I suppose I did say you could enjoy my hospitality at your leisure, more or less. Yet, I detect a certain note of… urgency to this visit. Are you quite alright?" When he had previously spoken with the Count his easy air of self-assurance had rather endeared him to Guiche. Yet, now, it felt somehow… sinister.
"Yes, well, I am afraid that needs must. You intimated to me before you left that you had acquired a new servant at the Academy, yes?" Mott inclined his head, faint smile never leaving his face. "I would like to obtain her contract from you." There was a light chuckle from the other noble as he leaned on one hand, adding milk and sugar to his tea with the other..
"I see. Well, that is a conundrum. You realize, of course, I cannot simply
sell her contract to you? There are laws, Master Gramont." As he spoke he calmly stirred his tea. It was as if the situation was utterly normal for him. "Of course, even if I were inclined to release her from her employment contract… well, frankly, I see no reason to."
Before Guiche could respond, Mott continued in the same calm, confident air that hung around him like a shroud. "You see, I am
invested in her. I could've gained a far greater concession from Osmond if I hadn't spent that… ah… call it, 'good will' on getting him to allow her to leave her position at the Academy."
Every hope that Guiche had for a peaceful resolution was draining out of him. Each soft-spoken word, dripping with absolute conviction, drove a knife into his gentle heart. He felt, in that moment, like he may as well have been poisoned for how close to being violently ill he was.
"I had… you cannot seriously be intending to...?" Much to his surprise, Mott took on an expression of concern that felt actually genuine. Hope became resurgent as the spectre of the once-unsullied Nobleman that the Count had seemed to him before returned for but a moment.
"Why, young Gramont, you look a fright. What could be so troubling to you?" He considered for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "Ah, I see, I see. I have stolen your prize from you, have I not? Well, I must apologize; after I heard about that dreadful business with that insipid first year girl I'd assumed you'd been put off. Well, even so, I am afraid I cannot cede such a fine specimen to you so easily."
Perhaps it was the look of utter shock on Guiche's face that finally betrayed him. Or, perhaps, the entire thing had been building to this. Mott remained calm as his guest covered his mouth in shock, staring blankly at the older man. Beside him, Kenneth's gauntlet creaked as he clutched at the haft of his axe.
"Jus' say th' word, Guiche. By yer leave ah'll divide this bastard into quarters an' scatter th' ashes of him an' his possessions inta th' storm." The dwarf was quivering in place, practically vibrating with fury. He was fully prepared to commit murder on the spot as soon as Guiche was willing to unleash him. Yet… he was not willing.
"He won't say it, Ser Dwarf. Because he knows that, in the end, it would be for
nothing save the tiniest balm on your consciences." Mott smiled beatifically, secure in his moment of victory. "In fact, it would serve you even less than nothing! With no actual proof or wrongdoing your master would be ruined. No amount of heroism in the future would absolve him of the crimes of murder, and
treason."
He lifted his cup and took a sip, sighing happily at the sweet taste. "His father would, first and foremost, be forced to disown him in order to avoid any of the repercussions falling on the House de Gramont. Without that protection he would be, in essence, a commoner; thus, his manifold crimes would be
magnified. In short, to unleash you now would ruin everything he is and could be for the sake of a lone peasant girl."
Finally, the facade of a generous, confident Nobleman shattered to reveal the snake beneath, Mott's calm smile grew into a vicious grin. "And that, Ser Dwarf, is something he will not do. Because in the end he accepts, as well he should, that he is more valuable than her." In that moment, the Count came within inches of death. Quite literally, in fact, as Kenneth only barely managed to catch Saito's knife with his left hand a handsbreadth from piercing his chest.
"Pity that you stopped him. I could have used a few favours from her mother." When Mott lowered his hand Guiche was rather startled to see that his wand was in it. He hadn't even seen him pull it out. Had it been concealed in his sleeve? "That is Vallière's servant, is it not? Well, he did make an
attempt..."
"Ah, but my familiar gallantly protected you, did he not?" His grin fading to a hint of a smile, Mott allowed a slight nod to acknowledge the point.
"Indeed, you are correct; that was well done, Gramont. Certainly, I do owe you some small favour. Shall I release your servant girl? I can call for her now, if you like." Whatever certainty Guiche may have derived from the moment was easily quashed. The prize he'd come for so gladly offered him...
"I think I must ask you to excuse Saito's actions, mustn't I? Else you wouldn't offer her up so readily." Mott's smirk returned quickly but he said nothing. Not that there was any need to. Guiche swallowed heavily. He felt rather out of his depth, here, and neither Saito nor Kenneth was calm enough to offer any real assistance. "You must understand what you're doing is wrong, Count; exploiting this girl for your… base desires is both immoral and illegal.. If I were to go to the authorities…"
That finally got a reaction beyond smug amusement and subtle condescension out of Mott. Unfortunately, it was out-and-out laughter. Guiche's proclamation was met with absolute mirth on the part of Mott.
"Oh… you poor, naive little boy." Mott continued to chuckle even as he stood and strode over to the fire, turning his back to the group. "You truly have no grasp of this situation. Allow me to elaborate for you… purely hypothetically, of course." He picked up a fire poker and jabbed at the burning logs a couple of times before turning to face them once more.
"Take, say, a young, exotic servant girl. She has an older Nobleman offer her a job at, say, twice her current pay. While it is, of course, a lucrative offer she has enough of an imagination to know what he may desire of her. So, quite reasonably, she begs off the offer by saying… hm… well, for example, that she cannot leave her current employment contract without permission. Quite common, no?" Guiche didn't trust himself to reply. He just glared silently.
Mott rolled his eyes, perhaps at the childishness of it in his own mind, and continued heedless of the sheer level of hate being directed at him from the room's only other inhabitants. "So, this Noble is stymied, yes? Well, no. All he need do then is suggest he can get her out of her employment contract. The wheels turn in her head, making… connections. Implications. He can have her contract voided so she will work for him… so, perhaps, will he do so if she doesn't agree to?"
The only snakes that Guiche had ever seen in his life were familiars and, as a result, were unusually docile. If he were ever to encounter one in the wild, however, he could only imagine that it would look and move exactly like Mott did. Slowly, deliberately, shifting softly across the room as he extolled the virtues of his plot while utterly secure in the knowledge that there was nothing Guiche could do. The definition of sinister.
"No threats have been made, you understand. No overt implications, either. Yet she has talked herself into agreeing already. That… is that. From that moment, her fate is sealed. Upon her arrival at his home she meets his other servants… every woman among them uniquely beautiful, in their own ways. Her assumptions are only reinforced further by this… and the fact that, many nights, a maid will not return to their shared quarters."
It was funny… Guiche couldn't recall having ever actually
hated anyone before. In the man's every word he saw his ignorant self reflected, arm outstretched to strike at a terrified girl. No wonder Kenneth had been so furious… was this what his lack of restraint might have led to?
"So you see, Guiche, there have been no laws broken here. None need be violated. After all… why would I threaten, bribe or coerce when the chains of her very own expectations will drive her
willingly into my bed without my having to lift another finger." Saito had gone very still again, Kenneth's outstretched arm quite possibly being the only thing that prevented him from launching himself across the room in a murderous frenzy.
"You can't possibly believe that you can get away with this, Mott; you just told me
everything. Even if you're somehow not breaking any laws I can certainly destroy your reputation with those admissions." The fact that Mott only laughed in response didn't give Guiche much hope.
"Please. Your word against mine? The word of Guiche de Gramont, known philanderer against
Count Mott, the trusted Royal Messenger? Who do you think would believe you, boy? Honestly, I had thought you
understood the way the world worked." Mott sighed, and retrieved a roll of parchment from within his velvet robe.
"Trading in people is illegal, of course, so I can't put it in writing that I shall release her from my service. But, should you agree to my terms, I will seriously consider your request." He moved to a small writing desk at the side and began to scribble upon the scroll. After a minute of awkward silence, broken only by the scratching of a quill, Mott turned back to Guiche and offered him the contract to peruse.
"... you can't be serious. This is… this is outrageous! You might as well be asking me to enslave Kenneth to you." The agreement was, on the surface, a trade agreement of sorts between the houses of Mott and Gramont. It was based around Kenneth's crafting skills and, apart from requiring the Count to provide the raw materials the result was
heavily in his favour. "And you ask this of me, with no guarantee you shall uphold your word? How can I trust that you shall release her untouched?"
Mott pressed his hands together and rested his chin atop them, smiling beatifically at Guiche in a way that made him desperately want to strike the man down where he stood. Or to give the word and let Kenneth do as he would. The Count probably knew that, though. It may even be his intent.
"You have none; save this admission. The girl is just a… bonus prize, for me. My real goal, Guiche de Gramont, is and always was the service of your familiar. I had worried that I might have to spend some of my hard-earned political capital in order to have that blacksmith arrested! But, instead, you walked in here and handed me the key to his shackles of your own free will."
Mott smiled a true and genuinely pleased smile. "Thank you, Guiche. Thank you so
very much." He slid the pot of ink across the table, along with the quill, and looked expectantly at Guiche. The young man felt… defeated, mostly. Lost. He'd come in here without much of a plan, so what had he expected? What a fool he had been.
He hadn't even realized he was reaching for the quill until there was a knock at the door. Mott's expression turned foul for just a moment, and then he smoothed it again as the door opened a well-dressed male servant stepped in.
"Count, there is a Griffin Knight here. He says he needs to speak with you, urgently." Mott sighed and stood, glancing over at Guiche with an apologetic shrug.
"I do apologize, Gramont, I must attend to this. Do consider my most
generous offer while I clear up whatever matter this may be." However, he was prevented from leaving as the door opened further. A man, silver-haired yet surprisingly youthful in appearance, stepped through and removed his wide-brimmed, feathered hat as he did so.
"No need, Count; my business is relevant to young Gramont." For the first time since Guiche had met him it seemed that Mott was legitimately taken aback. He stood in place, staring speechlessly at the stranger who just turned and winked at Guiche. "Allow me to introduce myself, young sir; I am Viscount Wardes, Captain of the Griffon Knights. My dear fiancée all but demanded that I come intercede in the matter at hand." Finally, Mott managed to bluster himself back into sensibility.
"Well, Viscount, I am afraid there is no
matter here that requires your intercession! I cannot imagine the Captain of the Griffon Knights has any interest in a simple servant girl." The condescension returned in full force, along with the smugness. It did falter somewhat, however, when Wardes flourished a slightly soggy letter.
"I must disagree. You see, Count, my fiancée informed me that the servant you have acquired has a precommitment to the Vallière family. In my hand I have an agreement, signed and ratified by Louise de la Vallière, master of the young man there, and the Duchess Karin de la Vallière, that one the former Academy maid you hired just yesterday is engaged to be married to Saito of Vallière." Guiche started in his seat as a number of things clicked into place.
Firstly, the plan at work here. Then, rather more slowly, the connection between Viscount Wardes and Louise. He was rather embarrassed that the latter part took him so long. Mott snatched the letter, tore it open and began to read it. Then he smirked.
"I see no notary from any priest here. This engagement has no legal power; until she marries the boy the Vallières have no authority over her and thus I, as her current employer, say that I do not support any such marriage; as is my right under the contract she
willingly signed." The Viscount grimaced as Mott thrust the letter back at him with a sharp grin. "I'm afraid your clumsy attempt has been stymied, Wardes. Better luck next time." Yet the Captain was not to be dissuaded as he lay his hand upon the hilt of his sword.
"I see. Then I am afraid that, on behalf of the boy, I must challenge you to a duel." Mott snorted with derision, waving the idea aside as if it were a foul smell.
"I decline! And you are a Griffon Knight in any case, you cannot challenge me on behalf of another to whom you have
no connection. Perhaps the Vallière brat is your betrothed but, just like the girl, you are not yet part of the family. Please, see yourself out; I have no more time for your foolishness." Wardes bowed his head, frustration writ large across his features.
Guiche looked at the man. Truly looked at him. He was soaked to the bone. For the sake of a servant girl… but, no, that wasn't it. For the sake of his betrothed he had flown here from the Capitol, in a storm no less, to challenge this man with what had to be the best plan he could concoct on such short notice. To have it fail now…
"Count Mott; in the name of the House Gramont, I challenge you to a duel of honor." Once more, shock graced Mott's face. It was a far more preferable expression for him to wear.
"Come now, boy, why would I accept? You have no claim either. Unless you wish to tell me that you will take the peasant's hand in victory?" Guiche shook his head, teeth grinding together as he glared at the foul, inhuman apparition before him.
"You will accept my challenge, Mott, else I shall speak to your cowardice until my dying breath. Not only myself, but the Viscount here; and my father, as well, I assure you! My familiar fought him to a standstill and if he says to the General Gramont that you, sir, are a coward then he will gladly speak that truth to every Nobleman he ever meets with until his dying breath!"
He'd shot to his feet at some point and was practically shouting at Mott. Pure hatred buoyed him forward at that point, gave him words to say and the voice to cry them with. "And, for your information, that 'peasant' has a name! Her name, Count, is
Siesta and I swear I shall beat the remembrance of that name into you if it's the last thing that I do!"
Mott was very still, and very quiet. Then his wide, self-assured smile returned as his perception of control reasserted itself. This, to him, was not outside of his goals. The potential for serious slander was minimal but certainly present as a legitimate threat and he would also think, or so Guiche hoped, that this might well prove to be a golden opportunity.
"Very well, Guiche. In accordance with the Code Duello you have challenged me. You may select one of the time, or the location, for our duel." The blond man grit his teeth, sensing the trap but having no choice but to fall into it.
"Now. This very moment, Count. We shall resolve our duel immediately." Once more Mott nodded magnanimously, as if all this were within his projections.
"And thus, as is my right, I say that we shall duel in my courtyard. The rain ought to make a lovely backdrop, don't you think? The Viscount may be our referee in this. Of course, for the sake of fairness, I shall limit myself to mere Dot spells." And once more Guiche ground his molars together with frustration.
"No. You shall have use of your full arsenal, or else you may surrender now. I shall not leave you any room to claim my victory is invalid." The wide answering grin let him know that such a declaration was exactly what Mott had wanted; yet, even knowing that, he'd had no choice in the matter.
"There shall be no interference from familiars, then. Neither mine, nor yours." Although he didn't know what creature one such as Mott may have called in his Academy days Guiche was certain that such a ruling was not in his favour. Nevertheless...
"Very well. I wish to invoke the Chevalier code. Have you any objection?" This was the crux of Guiche's one and only chance for victory here. If this did not pass he had no hope at all.
"You wish to use a wandblade, then? And your fine armour, I've no doubt. I have no objection… assuming that you, I trust, have no objection to my carrying multiple wands. Or did you hope your victory might come from sundering my implement?" That had been one hope, yes, but one of many. Ill-prepared as he might be plans were rolling into Guiche's head like a lightning storm.
"No objection. We shall fight to surrender. Upon your loss you shall release Siesta from her contract." At that Mott quirked an eyebrow. Perhaps he had expected for Guiche to demand a duel to first blood. Such a thing would have only benefitted the older man, however.
"As you say; however, upon
your loss, you shall sign whatever contract I may put before you. Do you agree?" For a moment Guiche closed his eyes, centring himself in the memory of a tragedy avoided. Then he nodded. "The rules are set, then, and witnessed. I shall change, and meet you in the courtyard. Good luck, young Gramont. You will certainly need it." Mott left the room, absolutely secure in his victory. Behind him, Wardes shook his head.
"That was a damn fool thing, boy." The Viscount stepped forward, clapping Guiche on the back. "But brave, I won't fault you that. In this rain, though, he might as well be a Square mage; you can consider all his spells to be at least one rank higher in power." Guiche nodded. He knew that much. It was entirely possible he had no chance of victory here. Even so…
"Nevertheless, Viscount, I must at least make the attempt. I know that… that if I were in her position, I would want someone to do as much for me." Kenneth nodded, but said nothing. He didn't have to. Wardes seemed to accept that, and began to unbuckle his jacket.
"The weather's awful out there, and my keen powers of detection note that you are lacking in both a coat and an undervest for that chainmail of yours. Take mine; even if I can't help you fight, I can at least do that much for you." Tears of gratitude welled up in Guiche's eyes as the Knight stripped off his padded vest and, with Saito's help, got his chainmail off and then back on again.
They swapped out his school cloak for Wardes' heavy, surprisingly dry cape. "No hood, I'm afraid. But…" A weight settled on his head. Guiche looked up to see the older man smiling down at him from under the brim of the wide hat he'd removed upon entering. Only it wasn't on the Viscount's head. "You seem a good sort, Guiche de Gramont. I don't think I'd like little Louise to lose a friend like you. This ought to keep the rain out of your eyes, at least. Try not to die out there, okay?"
Guiche nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Kenneth, meanwhile, had removed a cloth-wrapped package from his own bag and was pulling the bindings off it.
"An' ah dinnae wish to add ye to me slab, boy. So ye'll be taking this as well, with my compliments. Ah was hoping to put a few finishing touches on it afore ye went and did anything quite so damn foolish as this, but… well, hopefully this'll be yer trump card." It was a gleaming shield, engraved with the coat of House Gramont upon its surface; the crest barely marred by the few strategically placed spikes.
"Ah'll enamel it for ye if ya survive. An' if ya don't, ah swear by th' Goddess that ah'll make the man wish he'd never been born." Then, much to his surprise, the small man hugged Guiche around the waist. It was a little awkward, and surprisingly teary. "Yer me first student, boy. So ye'd best not be going and dyin' on me." They disengaged. Saito said nothing, knuckles still white with restrained fury, but he managed to place a hand on the young noble's shoulder and give him a nod of support nonetheless.
"Right then." Guiche turned and felt that he managed to make his cape flourish in a somewhat dramatic fashion. "Let's go. I have a duel to win!"