Hustle and bustle. Outside an illustrious merchant district, carts and peddlers were in constant motion. Sweepers and cleaners constantly cleared cobbled roads. That cobble transitioned to smooth stone, trampled by the most sought after of stallions and stable wheels. The loud commotion transferred into gentlemanly and refined banter. All dressed in their best clothes. To be seen in less could tarnish a family for generations.
The smiling faces were truthful.
Those who traversed this area were the most well-off and successful businessmen and women in the Kingdom. Money and luxuries. They could have any choice in suitors based on their appearance, real or fabricated. Life was good, and they deserved their happiness. It was well earned after surviving years in cutthroat business, crawling up from the bottom. The commoners couldn't understand since they hadn't made it here yet.
In contrast, everyone in this district could understand a commoner's perspective. Why? Two reasons. The first was because success requires you to know your clientele. The second is because they are all first generation—new to money. They're called "nouveau riche" by the old bloods that frequent the Palace district.
The old bloods were entitled and comfortable in their luxury. Their sole desire was to hang on to their power and keep others beneath them. That was why there was such a rivalry and hostility between the two groups. Separated by the drive and ambition of the nouveau riche, who always wanted more.
From Ash's perspective, they were both annoying to listen to.
Ash. That was her name. It used to be different, but Ash stuck to her like its namesake. It was more theatrical and easier to write a sonnet about. And there were several written about her. It grated on her ears every time Raiden frequented a pub. After every battle and victory, the soldiers sang of her tale. She could never deny the soldiers their merriment, but that didn't mean she had to like it.
"Do we have to meet with that miscreant, Duke?"
That was Jerome's voice. The third in their little party. Smart. Capable. Weapons master and strategist. He also had a song about him. It wasn't very flattering... Something to do with a unicorned goat and a thousand men.
"Might as well. Not much else to do in the Capital. Besides, Lecil kicked me out."
"If you were not a Duke, your actions would have been considered harassment."
"It was only two carts of roses. I figured three wouldn't fit in her room."
"She burned them."
Wistful.
"She did. Didn't she?"
Ash would rather be crawling in shit-infested trenches than continue listening.
She'd spent her fortune from the most recent border war on silencing scrolls.
Unfortunately, they ran out on their trek back to the capital...
"Say, Ash?"
"Yes, my Duke."
A soldier. That's what she was. She would act no different.
"Wasn't there a guy you used to be sweet on that lived around here?"
"No."
"Really? I was positive there was. Ah, well."
Klein shrugged, whistling as he practically skipped down the center of the road. The most embarrassing part was that people actually parted for him, even the rich.
People ran up to him to bring gifts and flowers constantly—a fame freak.
"Thanks, darling, how'd you know I wanted roses?"
The young girl was a teenager, barely able to whisper her affection before running off in embarrassment. Klein held onto the roses while handing the other material gifts to Jerome to carry. Ash refused outright.
The Duke's face became serious and brooding.
"Maybe a third cart of roses will seal the deal?"
=
"Raiden."
"Astor."
A janitor swept scattered roses out of the room and closed the door.
"Now that you are finished desecrating my office with dead flora, perhaps we can participate in meaningful discussion."
Raiden scoffed, collapsing into a chair that cost more than a soldier's life. Ash and Jerome stood at attention to either side. Rubbing his pinky in his ear, he blew what he found off it. Astor's face was the picture of restrained disgust.
"You speak like a textbook. No one actually talks like that."
"Just because your diction is lacking doesn't mean I have to dumb mine down."
"See! You could have just said, "fuck off, you lousy wanker", and it would have been the same thing."
"I didn't ask you to come to exchange barbs with you."
"That's a shame because that is why I came! Jerome's told me, you captured a hole filled with diamonds from Eul, only to have your ready stock stolen directly under your nose."
"First of all, it was a gem mine, not purely diamonds. Second, nothing was stolen."
Klein rolled his eyes.
"Sure. And I am a mongoose."
Astor tapped his desk rhythmically, debating his choices, and if there were better options. Astor didn't even need Raiden's assistance. Things would be hairier, but not impossible. The safer option was to manipulate him. Raiden wasn't the smartest bloke on the block. His instincts were phenomenal, as exampled by the dozen assassins the janitor had to sweep off the carpets, but Raiden had no sense for political intrigue.
Thus, Astor was as blunt as a bludgeon.
"I require your assistance in reducing the number of Ducal holdings in the Lionel kingdom to two."
Jerome stirred while Ash held no outward reaction.
Klein chuckled.
"If you think I'm going to fall on my sword, you're mistaken."
"You know what I mean, Klein."
The word tasted like acid.
Klein, for his part, stopped laughing. Astor could see the soldier now. The emotionless machine in him.
"I am not your tool, Daven Astor. Be careful with your words, or I might decide to care about your treasonous words."
Astor picked up a pen, playing it between his fingers.
"It is not treasonous if the majority are aligned. There is no easy way to depose a Duke, even by the king himself. So other, more careful measures need to be taken."
The words revealed a lot. Even to a more simple-minded individual, they spelled trouble. Jerome was busy throwing out countless plans, rearranging others, and drawing up new ones by the millisecond. Ash felt something undescribable flicker inside her. Unable to express or even process it, she kept her peace.
Raiden, however, relaxed.
Reclining, he placed a large fist to his jaw and gnawed.
"Speak."
=
Ash counted the seconds, nothing better to do. An old habit from days on the frontline. Helped keep her sane.
In minutes, the conversation lasted 34.
Ash was relieved for it to end. Then once again, horrified as a new conversation picked up.
"Fine. The way that works is fine. You can speak with Jerome more later. I have to order more roses anyway."
Astor was dismissive.
"Don't stay on my account. I have more business to tie up before my upcoming date."
Klein's raucous nature returned.
"You! A date? Hah. Who's the gold digger hanging off your knickers?"
"She is more refined and intelligent than all the floosies that have warmed your bed."
"That's past me. This is the new me. I'm a one-woman, man now!"
Astor actually snorted.
"That'd be the day pigs flew."
"Challenge accepted! Loan me a few, and I will throw them off the parapet."
"You... It pains me that you are serious. No. I will not loan you pigs that will end up smearing the sidewalk outside my door."
"Tch. You have no sense of adventure. No spunk. Entirely unlike my date to the festival. Now, that is a woman with fire!"
"She rejected your advances, didn't she?"
"Only a few times. But that is the fun of it."
"I implore you to stay far away from me during the festivities. I'm afraid you'll scare off my date."
"More like steal it. Hah! But, no, seriously. I've changed. Truly."
"Oh? And who is this mystery woman..."
Ash watched Klein fold his arms and declare with intense enthusiasm.
"The jewel of the kingdom! Princess Lecil."
A moment of silence.
Then two.
A third.
Klein opened his eyes.
Ash watched the staring contest between the two Dukes for 23 seconds. Then, for the first time since the recent war, both corners of her mouth inched upward. Entirely satisfied with the silent irony.