If anyone were to tell him before today that he, the gold plated Duke, would need to seek help from something straight out of a fairytale, he'd have scoffed -- and rightfully so -- at the absurdity of the very thought.
Witches, women with power to revel the gods and tame monsters. How mighty! And what a literal load of bull. If they were so powerful why were they forced into hiding millennia ago?
Well as significant as that question was, he swore never to have the privilege of knowing the answer to it as he was not and never would be counted amongst the historians of his time. And besides, he had never been a religious man so what was the point?
If it were not for the persistent insistence of his longtime friend and resident oddball Baron Psittacine, the subordinate he had placed on the mission of freeing him and his idiot brother from some blasted curse he would never had even dreamed to stoop low enough to set foot in an establishment run by a commoner. Even when said commoner was rumored to be the most beautiful human in the kingdom.
Especially doing so during peak business hours, under the cover of night like some low level noble seeking a thrill.
It helped even less that said establishment was also the direct competitor of one of his own (a not highly regarded member amongst his many but one nonetheless).
And that, my friends, was the story of how he the "Great" Duke of house Lupus himself at an unholy hour heading to the middle class business district of the capital city's west axis, listening to the droning of his dear book-obsessed friend, Baron Psittacine. As said book-obsessed friend put his all into reassuring him that he was not making the wrong choice.
Mind you all this reassurance being to his absolute horror and the absolute horror of his other longtime best friend, Marquis Vulpes -an insufferable silver tongued bastard- who spent his time on the ride trying to make their chattering friend blow his top to relive some of his personal discontent accumulated over this matter.
A fun time right? No. So to make it a bit more bearable he took to staring out the window in an attempt to block out the incessant buzzing of his friend, once again wondering where it all went wrong.
They were winning the war for the prince. No, scratch that. For the entire kingdom! And all was going fabulously, on the surface at least. It didn't take long for word to get out of how much of a strain it placed on the national treasury. And especially unfortunate was the fact that it got out via the wrong channels.
Dissatisfied whispers grew in frequency and intensity amongst the nobility (a pompous and highly selfish bunch in his opinion). All busy trying to paint themselves as the holy mother of the goddesses' divine messenger, speaking up for the "good" of the common people.
The result? Support to the front reduced considerably adding scarcity of resources to the already daunting list of difficulties the soldiers, brave men fighting for the kingdoms future, had to face in the everyday struggle for survival the current civil unrest had forced them into.
What he would always find most sickening was how none of these "nobles" would ever truly know how much of a heart breaking and psychologically tasking job it was for anyone with a heart to watch these men take on the daunting task of protecting the people realize that the same people they shed blood for had picked preserving their luxuries over aiding the good cause. Not one.
Morale amongst the men was deteriorating faster than had been anticipated, almost as if word was being spread intentionally. Before further inquiry could be made into this however, "salvation" came to them. Salvation in the form of a rumor of questionable origin.
Rumor bread from whispers travelling from the lips of one of the comfort maidens that frequented the camp into the ears of the desperation-filled soldiers eventually made their way onto his table at the behest of his darling brother. An impressionable idiot more interested in hearing and crafting various tales than the responsibilities that came with our family name.
This rumor spoke of a fallen noble family. Razed to the ground for their association to a witch and buried beneath the sands of time along with their "unholy" riches.
Once again it is of importance to clarify that the young duke had never been a religious man hence he was less inclined to believe any of it. From the hair on his head to the dust beneath his shoes he was but three things, a scholar, business man and by the will of his father, a Duke. In fact, it was only when the fancy caught him that he became a fourth thing, a brother of an impressionable idiot. Knowing how impressionable said idiot brother was the idea was rejected.
All these considered where religious men saw a fable to warn the future generations of evil association his brother felt he saw an opportunity to turn the current dilemma around.
Why, if cards were played right enough resources to aid the common people and successfully cement onto the princes' name, a holy image would be theirs to command. The very holy image those noble crones in the capital were tripping over themselves to obtain could be within their grasps very easily.
Suspiciously too easily in fact.
Hence he forbade the pursuance of this matter any further. Who could have guessed that his usually compliant brother would discover in this moment the wonders of defiance? He stole the notes of Baron Psittacine, the person in charge of researching the origin and authenticity of the rumor and made for the ruins on his own.
When the young duke found out he went after him despite the opposition of his subordinates and friends. His foolish brother was heading into no man's land in a war torn area. This meant his brother was in danger but it would be no problem for him with his skills to go get him before he got himself killed. And the part about curses and witches? Well he called hogwash. He swore back then that he'd sooner grow wings or suddenly develop a taste for dog meat than see the day anyone was cursed.
If only he knew.
If only the many historical records his resident (and currently rambling incessantly) historian had consulted to uncover this "treasure" had actually been historically accurate.
Maybe, he would have been gloriously focusing on taking his family to the next level as he had promised his father. Not sited in the confined space that was an automobile, making his way to a place he disdained to even think about. Chasing fantasies even more far reaching than the one currently threatening his life and the life of his idiot brother.
Maybe just maybe.
"Shut up birdy, were here." Marquis Vulpes scolded, as he snapped his fingers before the young duke's face shocking him out of his reverie. A very disrespectful action on his part considering the difference in status between the both of them but one neither paid any mind to considering the level of intimacy between them.
In response the young duke simply nodded his head then proceeded out the door being held open for him. On exiting onto the side walk fully he first took a good look at the building before him then glanced at his nervous friend/subordinate asking in a lazy drawl, "I'm not going to regret this right?"
"Of course not." He huffed indignantly in response only to shrivel pitifully under the persistent gaze of his longtime friend/superior. "I think?"
Turning his gaze back to the impressive building before him he chuckled darkly in response "We all hope then I guess." His chuckle sent shivers down the spine of all present warning that there would be hell to pay peradventure this hunt turned out to be nothing but a wild goose chase. Then patting the nervous wreck that was his nerdy friend he led the way into the building.
"Even if there is going to be any regret, it would be about the amount of sleep lost over arranging for this opportunity to meet this so called "Capital's most fearsome Witch" and nothing else." The Marquis with his arms folded behind his head pointed out with a sly smile on his face. "No loss to our noble reputations, as we took the pains to come at night and not much loss in resources as that merchant was literally begging to hand over his VIP pass in order to be of service to "The great house Lupus". So lay off old birdy would ya." He finished, meeting the side eye gaze of his grumpy long time buddy with one of his own.
Their gazes clashed midair momentarily both sides participating in a silent argument of which the young duke willing conceded.
As a result, he moved his gaze away and sped up his formally languid pace heading towards the dreaded building at the group head rather than the tail position he had formally taken show his concession. "Save those persuasion skills for when we're inside Slick. As for now, shall we go meet this head witch old Birdy found us then?"