"Tell me my lord, what trade are you hoping to facilitate between Arbormark and the Storm Lands?”
Even to one such as Torm, overnight the rumors of fell acts and dreaded deeds began to spread. The lies of Anyamara or the cowardice of Sharles, both being hailed as the end of peace in the land as we knew it. Politics be damned, Torm was still on edge! Though whether it was worry or pent up excitement in his breast, he didn’t know. The Archduke, rugged as the mountains he guarded, was honor bound to protect his home, his people, his King or Queen. Not for the first time did he feel anxious over the implications of this struggle, were he to become Grandmarshall.
He shook the thoughts away with a will. First thing was first, he was looking for Garthon and Einon. The two having left early in the morning whilst Torm ate his fill to scope out the palace and find Sir Jorin Longwall, but they had yet to return after an hour. Torm was never one to wait and see unless he had to, so he decided to stretch his legs. The Wolf of Arbormark now strode the halls, his wintry gaze cast on any that paid heed to him.
The Duchess of Steinland walked briskly through the halls, the heels of her riding boots hitting the ground with fierce determination. Her mare was due to be in estrus any day now and she was determined to not have her prized horse mounted by just any average stallion in the palace stables. As she moved, her hands worked to pull her hair back in a high ponytail using a metal clasp to hold her strands securely in place. She dressed plainly as horses were dirty work and had no desire to ruin the nicer clothing she brought to idle about the palace. A loose fitting white half-sleeved blouse served as her top and more fitted brown trousers that were tucked into black boots served as the rest of her ensemble.
Turning the corner in full stride, she nearly crashed into the broad chested Wolf of Arbormark.
“Oh!!” Michaela exclaimed, completely caught off guard and slightly embarrassed with the situation she found herself in.
She was the last person Torm expected to ever see, much less nearly bowl over. Her face almost smooshed into his darkened blue vest, sending his normally stoic expression into boyish concern for a brief, surprising moment. It took him a moment to recognize the pretty woman, and he blinked in surprise. Not only did she pop up out of nowhere, nor was it merely him wondering the chivalric protocol… but he knew her.
“My apologies, I’m sorry I…” He started, almost touching her to make sure she was alright, but quickly pulling back, squaring his broad shoulders.
“Hold on, you wouldn’t happen to be Michaela of Steinland, would you?” “Yes, I am and I should be the one apologizing as I should have been more mindful of where I was going.” She spoke quickly, still somewhat flustered. The man was familiar to her and she was racking her brain to remember who he was until her eyes landed on the crest on his vest. She rebuilt herself enough to provide the ArchDuke with a proper lady’s curtsy.
“Lord Draufkrieg. Please accept my humblest apologies for my rude behavior.” He chuckled, running a hand through his dark mane.
“No, you are quite fine, Lady Hohenstein. Er, I mean it’s quite alright.” He remarked, then cleared his throat and gave a bow.
“It does me well to see you. I spoke to Karl just the other day, but he didn’t mention you were in the capitol. It’s been a long time.” To speed past the awkwardness and to catch up, he held out an arm.
“You don’t seem to be heading for court. Let us apologize together and let me escort you to wherever you’re going. I’ve lost my retainers and I’m sure they’ll show up somewhere. What keeps you at the capital?”“Given my father’s condition, it was best for him to return home and so it is my responsibility to represent our house while all the nobles are gathered in the capital, my lord.” Her composure rebuilt, she took the archduke’s arm with confidence and grace. The quicker she reached the stables, the happier she would be and it wouldn’t hurt the duchess to take him up on his offer.
“I was heading to the stables before returning to court as my mare will go into heat soon and I was afraid of her being sent to pasture with unworthy stallions.”Even out of a resplendent gown, she carried herself well, Torm noted. For his part, he expected Einon to be the one escorting a woman across the estates of the capital, but he could think of worse ways to spend a day. The wind was warm but refreshing to the touch.
“Well, my realm has excellent horseflesh, you no doubt know.” He said, since she lived on the bordering province.
“If you’d care to, you could examine a few of the stallions in my stables? I had a few brought once I was summoned. You never know if the new monarch expects a gift or offering, so I came prepared.” He glanced her way, her flowing ponytail pressing to his face when she turned to look about. He decided not to say anything and blinked it away. He knew she might be politically minded when he offered, so he added:
“Don’t feel pressured. Some people want to use stocks they trust. No dishonor in that.” “I would be honored to be able to examine your stock, Lord Draufkreig. Arbormark’s horses are highly praised and I have been looking for a suitable male for my Aria for a while now as she is only getting older.” Michaela was surprised he thought a new monarch would have been appointed so quickly in a nation so divided, but she hid her thoughts behind a pleasant smile. She wasn’t about to look the gift horse in the mouth.
Marbled hallways gave way to luscious green grass as they passed under ornate archways to make their way to the stables. From their position atop the hill, she could see some of the herd that had been turned out to graze in the tall grass but none were of the of a beautiful golden champagne color that was her horse. The young noblewoman was starting to hope that her horse was still in her stall.
The two of them marveled at the majestic herd running like the wind for a brief moment before they began their way down the slope. He didn’t imagine she would trip, but he made sure to keep steady regardless. Men and women gave them a wide berth, averting their eyes to keep the attention of the duke and duchess off of them. Their ire could see them dead, regardless of whether or not Torm or Michaela would wish it so. Even still, whispers began speaking of the warrior and the maiden walking together.
The sun made Torm’s eyes look wrought of silvered iron, glinting like polished metal when he spotted the stables.
“My horses should be just in here, my Lady.” He assured her, stepping in out of the sun and into the stables, the familiar scent of horse and hay wafting against his senses. The smell brought back memories of battles and hard ridden journeys across the land. It was nostalgic.
“Now let’s look for your Aria…” he whispered, but even as he spoke the words he saw his stallions. Muscled and hale like their master, they whinnied and held their heads high, stomping when they saw him until he reached and let them smell his hand, calming them with a soothing stroke of their snouts. All but one, however. Bucephelos was busy, nuzzling a mare at the far corner of the stable.
Sliding off of his arm, Michaela walked purposely down the line of stalls, each bay occupied by proud and curious horses. At first glance, they were beautiful. Sporting bright shiny coats giving proof of a high quality balanced diet and well defined musculature. Each horse appeared to be of top physical shape, but she couldn’t bring herself to admire them just yet. Towards the end of the row, she saw a familiar white striped face.
“Thank goodness… “ she sighed as she approached her beloved mare. The horse pressed itself against the stable door to greet her, blanketing the duchess with it’s long ivory mane as it’s pink lips nipped at her blouse playfully. Michaela ran her slender hands along the mare’s neck in return.
“Have you been making friends with the boy next door?” She asked the horse, momentarily forgetting her company as the horse blew forcefully out of it’s nostrils in response.
Michaela reached for the door latch and granted herself entry to the stall. From inside she could see her horse was still fairly clean, it’s white stockings barely showing any dirt. There was a singular pile of feces tucked away neatly in the corner, typical Aria, and a fairly recent pool of urine underneath her horse. The mare was holding her tail up and upon further inspection, the maiden confirmed her horse was in heat.
Torm headed into his Stallion’s pen, smiling knowingly at Bucephelos as he calmed the beast down, keeping him from moving about with his strong arm.
“Found something you like?” He whispered, the horse lifting its head and lowering it as if in nod. Torm gave a laugh, knowing how Bucephelos was like when he found something he wanted. Torm had helped birth the horse when he was but a boy.
“Women have that effect on men.” Torm confessed to his Destrier.
“But you can’t be too eager. Play it cool.” It was…easy to tell Bucephelos was ready to mate. Torm just had to give a glance, below. He decided to distract him for a moment, taking out a green apple from his knapsack. He’d been planning on visiting later on in the day, but it didn’t hurt to give them some treats now for being patient. He just hoped this one was patient in other areas, now.
“Well, it appears they like each other.” He said in mock surprise, glancing over his shoulder towards Michaela.
“If the lady wills, I think they might be a good match. With your leave, of course.” Passing through the stall door once more, the noblewoman rinsed her hands in a nearby bucket and dried them with the towel that hung from a shared ring, leaving her horse to occupy itself with hay. Returning to the archduke, Michaela planted herself perpendicular to the horse and held out a passive hand for the stallion to take in her cent. Locking her grey blue eyes with the Wolf lord, she was all business in that moment.
“May I inspect him?” He raised his brow and looked her way, nodding in agreement.
“As the lady will,” he said with a small lowering of his head. He let Bucephelos go, whispering for him to behave before he gingerly let go of the Stallion and walked out of the gate, opening it up for her to enter. Once she did, he would wait outside of it so as not to confuse his Stallion. He had no doubt she knew her horseflesh, which made him felt at ease. Bucephelos was one of his best.
Now that she wasn’t brimming with anxiety over her own horse, Michaela was able to truly admire an Arbormark stallion. The horse seemed to be interested in her as much as she was interested in him as he pressed his nose into her bosom, taking huge wiffs of her scent into his nasal passages. She could hear how strong and even his breathing was, a tell-tale sign of strong lungs. A respectable runner. She reached up to scratch his jawline, noting that his coat felt as beautifully soft as it looked and how his muscles danced underneath his skin. She then moved around the horse, checking his ears, hooves, and finally his teeth. He was free of any mites, hoof rot, and poor dental hygiene. A definitive sign that he was cared for which made her smile.
“He is very handsome, Lord Draufkreig. Was he fairly easy to train? What would their mating cost me?” As Michaela asked her questions, Bucephelos began lipping at her blouse like Aria had done not too long ago. A pale slender hand reached up on its own to scratch the playful horse underneath his chin.
Torm rested his arms on top of the gate, his chin atop them as he watched the duchess and Bucephelos interact, hoping nothing went awry. Thankfully, she seemed to handle him as well as he could, the horse even warming up to her. He gave a sniff in amusement, figuring his Destrier knew he needed to behave to mount the mare just over the fence.
“No, this one was as stubborn as me.” Torm admitted, remembering all the times his father compared them to one another.
“Back when I trained him, he nearly broke my leg at one point. But he learned to behave, like I did. Now he’s tame, but he has an attitude. As for payment, my lady…” He lifted himself to his full height, opening the gate to better speak.
“I give him to you as a gift, for the betterment of our two houses.” Torm declared, pausing to let the proclamation sink in.
“Were it Karl and I, I probably wouldn’t be so readily generous. But from what I’ve heard, you have a stout heart.” He smiled, something he found himself doing around her. Normally he was known as a stern, if not grim man. But right now, he felt like the youth he still was.
“And if you enjoy him, perhaps we could come to an agreement on trade? If it would please you, my lady.” She grinned knowingly as the lord spoke of his horse, knowing full well how much a handful it could be to break in a young horse. As for his offer, a gift of a thoroughbred horse was truly not something she was expecting. Such things are not typically given freely and she was wary of it, given whom she called father. A serious expression formed on the young woman’s face as she mulled over his words, but it sooner softened into a genuine smile. Michaela was willing to take the chance on accepting his offer and perhaps she could pay him back in other ways should his intentions hold true.
“I think I would enjoy him very much, my lord. Perhaps we can leave these two to their own devices in one of the smaller fields so we can discuss these trade agreements you have in mind? I think leaving them to bond over a week’s time should guarantee a fruitful outcome.”Patting Bucephelos for one last time, Michaela truly examined the man in front of her. The last time she saw the wolf lord, they were just children. Hardly aware of the roles they were destined to fill. Now they were full adults and she wondered what kind of man he truly was. What road did they find themselves walking on?
It was a mere hour later when the two found themselves in an antechamber connected to the Great Hall, where members of court could eat and meet without using the main chamber itself. Even so, retainers and courtiers found their way into the room before Torm closed the door fully, locking so he and the duchess could speak business, with the only entrance into the room connected to the kitchen. Curious eyed maids in aprons carried forth chicken, beef, bread, mead, water, and even pudding for the two to enjoy, compliments of the council’s staff.
“We’ll wait for you out here. Knock her dead,” Einon had teased Torm, before Garthon grabbed him and veritably pulled him out the door.
He had shaken his head, but when he looked at her, he couldn’t help but feel a bit humbled by her beauty. He smirked at his own foolishness, and pulled her chair out so that she may sit, before taking his seat as well. Their drinks poured and their food steaming, they could finally speak.
Michaela thanked him as she gathered up the skirt of her dress to sit in one practiced fluid motion. After they had departed the stables, satisfied that the two horses frolicked playfully together in their private field, the pair split ways momentarily to wash up and for the noblewoman to change into clothes more acceptable to her station. The cotton dress she wore was soft to the touch and a rich azure color. It was fitted perfectly to her frame, with sleeves that extended down to her wrists and a respectfully positioned neckline that stopped just above the mounds of her chest. Throughout the dress were delicately embroidered silver flowers that helped to elevate the piece to be acceptable for a lunch with another nobleman. Ilse had helped her pick the dress out from the selection they had brought with them and brushed out the duchess’ hair as Michaela recounted to the other woman the events that lead up to that moment. The handmaiden plaited the strands along her crown to form a halo around her skull while the rest of her hair fell in waves that trailed past her shoulders and gave her some parting advice before sending her out the chamber doors.
“My lady, remember you are also a woman, not just the Dutchess. Try to enjoy this lunch outside all of the politics?” Ilse had truly spoken from a place of love for the higher ranking noblewoman and Michaela knew it. With no other siblings, it came down to her to continue the family lineage and she was still unwed. It was a stressor that all nobles knew and it’s something that did weigh heavily on her mind. However, the handmaiden was speaking for her lady’s well-being , not duty.
Pushing the memory of their conversation to the back of her mind, Michaela marveled at the bounty before them as she grabbed the napkin from her plate and gently unfolded it onto her lap.
“The last time we ate together, we were just children.” The young woman commented, working to put into practice what the Ilse suggested.
“I remember it, at least to a point.” He reminisced, not quite recalling what the meeting was for. Thinking back on it now, no wonder his father yelled so much at him at the time. He could remember Michaela quite well, stunned at how the little imp of a girl had now bloomed into a very attractive young woman.
“Our fathers had to settle some business, but there was a big feast and we started running around. I think I tripped you up and you fell off a chair you were trying to jump off of.” He grabbed a chicken leg, trying to eat it as delicately as he could in pleasant company. Torm was not without manners, but he kept them hidden until they were needed, much like a sword. Only he polished his sword far more.
“I was always wondering when you’d get me back for that, but we never got to see one another until now. I hope the horse is repayment enough.” He joked, covering his mouth with his offhand. The meat was succulent and spiced. The capital had good food, if nothing else.
Using her fork, Michaela plucked cubes of beef and piled them atop her plate as Torm spoke of their shared childhood memory. She remembered that day fairly well as that fall ended with her in tears and some nasty bruises. Her grandmother had been the one to calm her back down by rocking her back and forth in her lap. Given her father’s condition and the early death of her mother, Michaela’s grandparents had been the ones tasked with her upbringing. The young noblewomen smiled as she spoke.
“He is a very fine horse, I will admit, but I think I would prefer you live in fear of when I can extract my revenge. That sounds a lot more fun.”After having cut the cubes in half, the young woman delicately plopped a chunk of the delicately spiced meat into her mouth. Proper court etiquette was practically beaten into her being, so every motion was executed with fluid, practiced ease and she made sure to swallow her bite before speaking again.
“This is actually quite good!” Michaela exclaimed, genuinely surprised. There was a talented cook in the palace kitchens, thank the gods.
“It is,” he complimented, hoping one of the cooks could hear. Torm tended not to raise his voice unless it was to soldiers or in war. Generally his rugged baritone was enough to be heard across a wide expanse of space, anyway.
“My cooks make great venison, but there’s a spice here I’m quite interested in asking about.” He remarked honestly, but shrugged. His wintry eyes glanced her way, and he gave a small smile.
“Well, we’ll find out. If I find it, maybe you can come to Arnkastell soon and we can enjoy it there. It’ll give you a chance to exact some revenge. Assassination is harder to commit at the capital, I hear.” He drank a good swig of his mug, washing down the food and wiping the liquid from his lips with his napkin along his robust thumb.
“I only have some of the finest knights in the world. They’d be no match for the Duchess of Steinland.” “They really wouldn’t.” She agreed before taking a sip of water to wet her pallet, the cool liquid felt refreshing after the warm spiced beef.
“Though I think assassination is a bit extreme for a child’s mistake. I will find a punishment more appropriate for the crime, do not worry.” Taking a bowl within her pale slender hand, she started to serve herself some of the pudding that had been brought out for the pair to enjoy. While she did enjoy their playful conversation, it was time for her to get to the root of why they were sharing a meal. Setting her bowl back down without a hint of sound, Michaela grabbed her silver spoon to sample her first mouthful. The dish was delightfully smooth and just the right level of sweetness.
“While I am grateful for your gift, it would be such a long trip for only the promise of a good meal. Tell me my lord, what trade are you hoping to facilitate between Arbormark and the Storm Lands?” Whether it was gracious table manners or not, Torm developed a pensive pose, one he often did when speaking to his generals. His fingers intertwined, elbows resting on the table, and his sharp eyes on exactly whom he was speaking to.
“I am hoping to provide security to my people,” He stated flatly.
“Arbormark is not wanting in its coffers, but there’s going to be much instability soon, unless some miracle were to occur. I want to offer a ready supply of horses to the Storm Lands in exchange for a fair price to my merchants. There are already smaller deals being made between our peoples, so I would like to form up and sign and agreement that makes it official when it comes to horseflesh. Does that sound reasonable?” Michaela was intrigued by how seamlessly the archduke changed gears, moving from boyish charm to commanding noble right before her eyes. There are indeed two sides to every coin. As he changed his posture to perch himself forward, she actually relaxed into the back of her chair and fully crossed her left leg over her right. Her hands rested against her stomach with her fingers laced and thumbs moving in a circular pattern around each other as she thought. Her eyes matched his intensity.
“How much coin per horse? How many horses per shipment? How frequent will these shipments be? It is at least 2-3 years before a horse can be trained to ride so what is the long term plan should we find ourselves in an extensive conflict? What if we find ourselves on opposite sides of the inevitable conflict between the two prospects for the crown? Will you still want to sell me horses?” The duchess bombarded the archduke with the more important questions that had come to mind. She was not above paying good coin for quality horses for her people, but she shared the same concerns as Torm. A storm was on the horizon and she had to prepare her people as best she could.
Torm raised an eyebrow. She certainly came prepared to speak business. Perhaps he should be wary of her. Instead, he felt he was proud of her. She truly had grown up.
“Twenty schillings for a work horse, fifty schillings for a Destrier.” He said confidently.
“As for shipments and a long term plan, I would refer to my steward, but I suggest we start small. Five shipments of twenty five steeds over the course of a season, and double that if we consider our agreement fruitful. No doubt you know Arbormark is a pastoral land, we have plenty of horses to sell for years, even during a conflict. As for the crown, I will fight for whatever king or queen is decided, regardless of whether they were my first choice. But if there is a war between our houses, we will cease with business until the next sovereign is decided, in which case we will all be subjects again. Unless we can find a way to guarantee peace in some fashion. Perhaps a nonaggression clause in our trade agreement, or a marriage? Though I’d like to think Karl and you enjoy our horses so much you’d think it better we were friends.” Michaela was surprised by how far they have come. Long gone were the days of carefree laughter and innocent fun of children; now they played a new game of tag.
“I certainly would prefer our houses to remain on friendly terms, but I am surprised you would bring marriage to the table.” She spoke honestly.
“In a way, maybe you are stronger than I as I still hope to marry a partner who respects me as the woman I am as much as they love me rather than be chained to a man simply to save my country from ruin.” Michaela stopped momentarily to take in a deep breath, inhaling from her nose and exhaling softly through her lips to refocus her mind from such a personal subject.
“I am aware of your land’s bounty and I can accept this conservative offer. I believe five work horse and twenty destriers would be a reasonable ratio for our needs so far. As for cost… is that a set price or are you willing to be flexible?” Torm blanched, confused for a second as he looked down at the half eaten food and realized exactly what he said.
“Wait, wait, I uh… Well I was talking about perhaps a cousin of mine and a cousin of yours, not… well…” He didn’t know where to begin, since he didn’t want her to think he didn’t consider her a marriage prospect, because she was certainly far too intelligent and beautiful.
“Truthfully, I want to get married only to someone I love too. I suppose it’s why both of us are still unmarried but…” He finally seemed to sink a little, humbled and thinking aloud.
“I suppose that’s selfish of me, to force something upon a cousin rather than do it myself. I’m sorry for the confusion, Michaela. You deserve someone far better than I. I’m just a knight that happened to be born in the family. Were I not oathsworn I would likely ride off somewhere, sell my sword or serve a noble lord, or lady-” he said, gesturing to her.
“But I am who I am, and I have given my word. I also apologize for talking about so much in your presence. You just seem someone I can trust.” He gave the smallest bow of his head and a sad smile, before he continued.
“I’m certain if you find the price too high, we can discuss it. Though from what little I know, that seems market price.” Her expression softened and a small smile spread across her face.
“Do not apologize to me Wolf Lord, I have enjoyed our conversation thus far. As for marriage, I deserve someone of my choosing, that alone will prove their worth.” Releasing her clasped hands and uncrossing her legs, she positioned herself closer to the table to take a drink of water before continuing.
“The price is a fair one, I just wanted to see if I could haggle you. For the sake of your cousins, I will pay the twenty schillings per work horse and fifty for your war horses.” Michaela set down her mug and stood to offer her hand to Torm.
“Deal?” The Wolf Warden smiled back, pleased to see she was a woman who knew what she wanted. He was similar in mind. There was a dull scrape as his chair was pushed back, Torm rising to his full height. He was tall and fell, and likely many men had seen him standing over them before the end. But here he was warm, despite the resolute glint in his eyes. He took her hand and shook it firmly.
“It is a deal.” He said, squeezing her hand for a moment.
“I’ll continue to eat if you will, but if you’ve more pressing business, I will not hold you.”Michaela couldn’t help but notice how warm his large hand was against hers and she could feel the callouses that had formed from handling his sword often. The Dutchess squeezed his hand in return, reciprocating the small form of affection towards the knight.
“I wouldn’t dare insult the cooks by not finishing this well made meal! As for my plans… There is nothing more pressing at this moment than making sure the horses are getting along well and maybe working in a session with my gift destrier. But do not worry my lord, you are not holding me here for I am choosing to stay.” Releasing his hand, she gathered her skirts so that she could pull in her chair to sit and eat once more.
“Then you honor me with choosing to remain,” He said with a low bow, and though he did not mean it as a joke, he still had mirth on his face when he looked up at her, thinking the ceremony extravagant for old friends. Once he took his seat, he was about to grab another bite before suddenly he added:
“I told you what I would do were I not the Archduke.” He said thoughtfully.
“If you could choose your life, your dream life, what would it be?” She paused, setting her utensil back down onto the table and her expression turning somber.
“To live in a world where my father is whole.” she answered simply, speaking in a quiet voice. Ever since she came of age, the responsibilities of her father’s station were passed onto her. A role she gladly took to ease the burden off of him and allow him the opportunity to better rest his bones, even though she knew the only rest he would ever get would be when his final breath leaves his body.
Torm did not expect that, and he set his utensil’s down too.
“I’m sorry Michaela. I…” He closed his mouth, knowing he couldn’t say anything to make her feel better. He gently reached forward and placed his hand on hers.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like.” He and his own father had a less than stellar relationship, but it was merely a few months before he passed from the plague.
She could have said something cynical, but Michaela chose instead to say nothing. Torm had been nothing but courteous and he did not deserve those kinds of words from her. She gave him a small smile, turned her hand to cup his, and gently rubbed the side of his pinky finger with her thumb. She never expected him to understand what her family had endured or any of the other nobles for that matter. They saw her father for the power he has held all these years and as someone who stood against his hardships without the help of others. Michaela and her father had worked hard to keep it that way.
He gave a small smile, keeping his hand where it was. He was worried his hand felt awkward and stiff, but in reality that was just his mind. It was warm and comforting, though rough from his swordsman calluses.
“If your father was whole, what would you do?” He asked, staying on topic. He wanted her to focus on something positive. Everyone had dreams.
Michaela took a moment to think as she really did not spend time fantasizing about such things. Whenever there was a time she was stressed or at her limit from her duties as a duchess, she simply took a hot bath and ended her day in front of a canvas with some paint.
“Perhaps I could have been an artist or raised horses? I’m sorry my lord, I seldom fantasize about what could have been. I cannot change what I am nor the circumstances that have brought me where I am today, but what I can do is focus on the future and do what I think is right.”Torm smirked, breaking a loaf of warm bread with his free hand and handing her one side of it. The baked bread was soft and malleable in the hand. He dipped one end of his in a slice of butter, which began to melt almost immediately.
“I figured the art of monarchical rule would be a boring topic for two people such as us. Then again, I can talk about military matters all day, even after I’ve fought a campaign or jousted all morning.” He supposed being good at it helped. He took a bite of the loaf, trying to cover his mouth while he spoke. His voice came in clear, at least.
“I think you’d make a fine living taming horses. Then again, I haven’t seen your art.” She grabbed her end of the offered loaf with a thanks before reclaiming her slender hand from his larger one. She would need both of her hands to properly serve herself a slice of bread. Taking her knife, she slathered on a thin layer of butter before taking a bite of the delicately baked dough. She made sure her mouth was empty before speaking,
“Well my lord, perhaps this would be my opportunity to extend a gift in return. I plan on personally overseeing our arrangement myself for at least the first few shipments before passing it along to a dedicated transport, so I can bring you one of my paintings if you’d like? Then you can decide which fictional life would have been more prosperous.” “Hey, I’m just happy to be getting paid for the horses. You do as you like with them as soon as they cross the border,” He said with a smug look, obviously half in jest. He took another bite of the bread and swallowed it in short order. But then the words sank in, and he realized he had misheard. He looked at her, brow raised.
“Really? I think I’d like that. I could show you my Destrier, Lykurg. He could use the exercise and it would be a good way of showing you Arkastell. I don’t remember if you’ve ever seen it, before.” “It has been some time since I last visited so if you’re offering me a tour, I would gladly accept the invitation.” She offered him a smile as she spoke. It was amusing to watch him fumble as he processed her words.
“Is Lykurg more impressive than the horses I saw today? It is difficult to think that there is a beast of higher caliber. Then again, I have yet to work with them and experience the power they have to offer.” Michaela took a moment to wipe her fingers and mouth with her napkin before setting the cloth down on the table, signaling the maids that she was done with her meal.
Torm was ready for seconds, but he decided not to give that away. He’d ask for some food wrapped up for later, when Michaela was not present. He doubted she would care, but for some reason he didn’t want to appear anything less than superb around her. He’d do some self reflection and think on why, later.
“Lykurg is my best horse. Strangely enough, he’s not a purebred. He’s a Destrier, from his mother’s stock. His father was a draft horse, however. He’s big, but sleek and powerful. Bucephelos isn’t his kin by blood, but I think of them both as mine.” He said, smiling as if the horses were his sons or battle brothers. He placed his cloth in both hands and made a quick wipe of his mouth just to be certain he was presentable
“I hope I get to see more of Bu when you visit. And I hope it’s sooner rather than later. I think their power will be sufficient to the trained eye of the Lady Hohenstein.”“Well, I do not plan on traveling with one without the other moving forward, so you will be welcomed to him should there be no other pressing matters that you need to attend to when I visit. Draft horses are strong but gentle creatures, so the pairing of two breeds should have mellowed out the mother’s stock. It is not necessarily a bad thing if you achieve the result you wanted… While speed is what everyone looks for, they forget how dangerous a well planted kick could be. Put some draft blood behind it and I’d be surprised if the person’s rib cage is still attached to the rest of them.” Breeding was an interesting subject to Michaela. How you look for similar traits, or opposing ones, in the parents in the hopes that their offspring produce the desired results you’re looking for. Parents have to be chosen carefully as if there is too much back breeding, pairings of siblings or direct offspring to a parent, then you would start seeing deformities in the newborns. She had asked many questions on the subject when she was younger and thought fondly upon the times where things were much simpler.
“Well my lord, do you plan on staying in the capital for much longer? I would like to schedule the first shipment fairly soon so that the proverbial ball can get rolling.” Torm found he was smiling as she spoke. Michaela was smart as a whip. He was impressed. The Archduke stood up from his chair, the wooden legs making an audible ‘wrrrp’ behind him as it was pushed back. Torm placed a hand on his chest and gave the bow of a cavalier.
“I will leave as soon as the lady deems.” He said. He didn’t really have much to do except meet the Captain of the Guard. Then he was planning on making full speed back to Arkastell.
Michaela stood as well, pushing her chair out as silently as possible and rising in one fluid movement before offering Torm a lady’s curtsey.
“Please my lord, do not rush anything on my behalf. I would just like to visit as soon as it is convenient for you to have me and the group that will oversee the shipments once we have established a business rapport.” she replied, her hands laced gently in front of her. She would have to brainstorm later on who would be suitable for this caravan, but a few people were already coming to mind.
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