In the dimly lit tavern, I sat in the corner, hidden away from the prying eyes of those who might recognize me. Sunlight streamed through the grimy windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing lazily in the air and casting a hazy glow over the rough wooden tables and worn-out chairs. The scent of stale ale mingled with the faint whiff of sweat, creating an atmosphere thick with the familiar hum of distant conversations.
I had come here seeking solace from the bedlam that had become my life, but as I listened to the chatter around me, I found it only deepened my sense of unease.
A weary estate servant leaned forward across the table, his sunken eyes darting around cautiously, as if he feared being overheard. "Hey, have you heard?" he whispered conspiratorially, his voice barely above a murmur.
I remembered this particular servant... quite new and young. I leaned in, intrigued despite myself.
The air hung heavy with anticipation as he continued, "We have a new lord again. Apparently, the lady Baroness has been deposed by the new lord…"
The farmer sitting across from him, his calloused hands nervously fidgeting with the edge of his patched-up cloak, leaned closer, his voice trembling. "Is that true? I've heard the real lord, the son of the late Dromastus, has returned, so it must be true… The poor Baroness… It has not yet been two months since she began…"
The servant nodded knowingly, bitterness lacing his words. "Apparently, it is true. If someone asked, you ahven't heard it from me. Well, that's nobles for you. They will kill even their own kin if that is what it takes to be lord." He took a long sip from his mug, the bitterness of his drink reflecting the bitterness in his heart.
I sat back, thinking back how everything had led to this. I had returned, yet here I was, hiding in the shadows of a tavern, reduced to eavesdropping on whispers meant for the common folk.
My thoughts turned inward, a whirlwind of doubt and determination. I could hear the tavern patrons laughing and shouting in the background, their lives untouched by my struggles.
"Do you think she'll fight back?" the farmer asked, his voice pulling me from my reverie.
The servant snorted. "Fight back? She's just a woman playing lord. If the real lord has returned, it's only a matter of time before she's forced to yield." His words dripped with scorn, and I felt a mix of anger and protectiveness rising within me.
As the low hum of conversation filled the tavern, I leaned back into my chair, trying to fade into the shadows of the room.
The door swung open, and a stout merchant strode in, his vibrant robes embroidered with intricate patterns that screamed wealth and prosperity. My attention shifted as he scanned the room, his gaze finally settling on the corner table where the estate servant and the farmer engaged in their discussion.
With a wide grin that radiated confidence and curiosity, the merchant approached them. "If you don't mind," he said, pulling out a chair, "I've heard the lord of this territory has a very beautiful wife…"
The servant looked up, surprise and amusement lighting up his tired features. "She is! Blonde hair and blue eyes. She's almost like royalty, but clearly, a lord from the backwaters like this cannot have such a good wife! The lord must have hit the lottery!"
The farmer took a sip of his drink, skepticism oozing from his every pore. "Lottery? They're all rigged…" He leaned back, eyeing the merchant with a hint of cynicism. "No one has seen the mysterious wife; only glimpses. Theory is the late Baronness had left the woman as a gift not earn the ire of the new lord."
The merchant absorbed the details with keen interest with a smirk playing on his lips, probably thinking as how he could profit from this information.
The servant leaned closer with a glint of excitement shining in his weary eyes as he continued the tale. "It's because the lord's wife is so beautiful that people momentarily forget their own minds!"
The farmer scoffed, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. "Sorcery! Bah! I don't believe it. You know most lords are sorcerers, aren't they?"
"But from what I have heard," the servant countered, shaking his head, "the lord's wife was a commoner, a merchant's daughter! It can't be that she's a sorceress. If she is, she wouldn't end up a wife to some poor baron."
The merchant, undeterred by the farmer's dismissive tone, took a seat at the table with an air of business. "I have a question," he said, eyeing the servant and farmer intently. "Does the lord dote on his wife? I have a few accessories that might interest your lord."
The farmer waved a hand dismissively. "Give up, this place is poor… And heck, for a time, we aren't paying taxes because of the lack of a lord. I hope things change now that we have someone to lord over us."
The servant's expression brightened at the mention of change. "Isn't that good? No taxes?"
The merchant chuckled wryly, shaking his head. "As if… War just ended, and bandits are on the prowl, not to mention all kinds of unsavory people. If the lord doesn't collect taxes, then his coffers must be empty. And if it's empty, he won't have any capital to invest in the guards!"
The farmer swirled the last dregs of his drink in his mug, nodding gravely. "You heard the merchant, boy… Taxes are not necessarily evil. If used in the right way, they can invigorate the city. When this place still had a lord, I used to earn good money because all my crops got sold to the military."
The merchant leaned back, now more at ease with his company. "You, dear sir, are right! Just knowing this place hasn't been collecting taxes for years clues me in on how much of a failed estate this is… I'm sorry if that sounded offensive, but this place is actually very lucky for not being a criminally infested territory yet."
The farmer shrugged off the apology with a resigned smile. "It's because this place is the boonies of the boonies…"
Still contemplating the implications of their discussion, the servant posed a question that struck me. "If the lord has nothing in his coffers, then how can they still hire a servant like me?"
The merchant stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I reckon the new lords have brought money with them. One thing I learned about nobles is that they cannot live without their servants."
In a shadowy corner of the tavern, I sat hunched over a mug of ale, my weathered face barely visible beneath the hood of my loose, tattered robes. The hustle and bustle of patrons flowed around me like a river, but I remained isolated, lost in my own little world. I had mastered the art of looking like I belonged here—miserable, grizzled, and a tad bit questionable.
Unbeknownst to the other patrons, I was no mere tavern drunkard. No, I was the new lord himself, cloaked in a meticulously crafted illusion that concealed my true identity. Beneath this façade of an old man, I wove a careful tapestry of magic, allowing me to eavesdrop on the myriad conversations swirling around me. It was like reality TV, only with more ale and fewer producers.
With a subtle flicker of focus, I tuned into a trio engaged in animated conversation—the farmer, the servant, and the merchant. Their voices blended into a delightful symphony of murmurs and revelations, discussing taxes, my 'accidental' wife, and the state of the territory. Who knew my life was such a hot topic? I felt like a celebrity.
I had a confession to make about my return to the Dromastus Territory and the title of baron I had so eagerly claimed. It boiled down to one simple truth: I wanted to live in at least a modest amount of luxury. If I was going to embrace a "normal" life, then why not do it with a side of opulence? After all, I was the rightful heir to this barony, and I intended to enjoy the perks.
But as I drunkenly impregnated Mia—now there's a phrase I never thought I'd utter—and poked around a bit more, the harsh reality of this territory hit me like a rogue bandit in the night. This place was poorer than I had anticipated. The luxury I was able to enjoy in the Estate Mansion? It was all thanks to Mia's hidden stash of coins. She might have the barony's titles, but clearly, she also had the real wealth.
I chuckled to myself as I took another sip of my ale. There I was, the new lord living high on the hog, all while my "accidental" wife was probably the real brains of the operation. Did I really think I'd just waltz back in and find a gold-plated throne waiting for me? Apparently, I had miscalculated.
Amidst the ambiance of the tavern, I rose from my seat, settling the tab for my drink with a flick of coins upon the counter. I exited the establishment, thinking how could I improve my fortune.
As Baron Dromastus, the expanse of my territory unfolded before me—a domain comprising the Estate and its surrounding tapestry of twelve satellite villages. Well, I couldn't exactly see them from where I stand, but I've skimmed enough of the territory's assets to know the basics. It was a modest expanse, one that would suffice for the aspirations of a 'normal' baron.
The journey from the tavern to the Estate Mansion became a voyage of introspection. I contemplated methods to breathe life into these lands, my thoughts swirling like eddies in a restless stream. "Hmmm… I should govern this territory just enough for it to be self-sufficient," I murmured to myself, mapping out a strategy in the theater of my mind.
However, a peculiar notion threaded its way through the back of my mind. "I cannot be too incompetent or too competent if I want my life to remain normal." The realization hung in the air, a delicate balance between striving for prosperity and yet not attracting undue attention or responsibilities.
The grand silhouette of the Estate Mansion loomed ahead. The door creaked open, and I stepped into the quiet halls. Govern? How does a 'normal' baron even govern? The lazy part of me just wanted to wing it, but I knew better than to mess up. Nobles were like pigs, right? They slept, ate, shat, and… well, you get the idea. At least I had somewhat of a template.
It had only been a week since Mia and I formalized our marriage contract—a union borne of unexpected circumstances.
Entering the office, I was greeted by the sight of Mia, deeply engrossed in her work. Parchment after parchment sprawled across the desk, her quill dancing across the pages with a fervor that spoke volumes of her dedication. In this world, it was customary for the wife to take an active role in her husband's affairs, and Mia seemed to have fully embraced this tradition.
However, what caught my eye was the change in her appearance. Mia, once adorned with regal and luscious blonde hair, had opted for a more unassuming style. Her hair, now fashioned into a humble bob cut, framed her face with a newfound simplicity. It was a departure from the luxurious appearance she had before, yet it radiated a sense of purpose and adaptability.
Approaching her desk, I offered a warm smile, taking in the transformation. "You've changed your hair," I remarked, noting the shift in her demeanor.
Mia glanced up, a flicker of surprise followed by a gentle smile. "Yes, I thought a change might be suitable," she replied, her tone composed yet warm.
I chuckled lightly. "Going for the 'baroness in disguise' look? I must say, it suits you."
She laughed softly, a sound that was both inviting and reassuring. "Well, if we're going to make a success of this, I figured I should start with something manageable. No more golden locks that scream 'noblewoman' when all I want is to blend in and do the work."
The lord's office was a stately room adorned with rich mahogany furniture, intricate tapestries, and the soft glow of strategically placed candles. The air was imbued with a mix of aged parchment and the faint trace of magic, creating an atmosphere both regal and mysterious. It felt like the kind of place where serious decisions were made—if only I could stop cracking jokes long enough to look the part.
Seated on a plush sofa, I glanced curiously at Mia, who was fully immersed in her work at a grand wooden desk. "But really," I inquired, "what's up with your hair?"
Mia looked up from her parchment, her expression serene. "I am a powerful Fatemancer, dear. I have seen many versions of yourself through my precognition alone, and all of them obsess about normality. That means I also know your preferences. This bob-cut hair makes me look more villager-like, doesn't it?" She continued writing, seemingly unfazed by my question.
"Is that so?" I mulled it over, rubbing my chin like some wise sage. "Do you use magic on your face? I wandered around a bit, and I realized people who have seen you have a tendency to forget your face. We have a deal not to publicly practice magic."
Mia glanced at me, her eyes shimmering with subtle amusement. "It is fine as long as I am not caught… And save yourself the trouble; I know you have rigged your territory with your magic. If that's not publicly practicing it, then which?"
I leaned back, acknowledging her astuteness with a wry smile. "I guess it's 'private practice' as long as no one catches on to it."
Standing up, I surveyed the contents of the parchment spread across Mia's desk. Requests for stonemasons, carpenters, and various laborers suggested a meticulous approach to territory management. "What are you doing?" I questioned, a hint of teasing in my voice. "You are a control freak. My very 'normal' wife is already usurping my authority, and it's not even a day since we're married."
Mia, undeterred, met my gaze with a composed smile. "You will be thankful. I am very good at territory management… I am a former princess, mind you."
I chuckled, unable to resist a playful jab. "Yep, a princess on the run from the authorities."
Her eyes glinted with a touch of defiance. "A princess that you promised to protect."
I interjected, correcting her with a smirk. "Correction: a promise to my normal wife and normal child."
Mia raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her tone. "So tyrannical. So when I stop being 'normal,' will you readily abandon me?"
I flashed an unapologetic grin. "Yes." The words hung in the air, and I couldn't help but sigh inwardly. Is this how a side character should act?
"Wow, so supportive," Mia shot back, rolling her eyes with a smirk. "Just remember, if I turn into a dragon or something, I'll be taking you with me."
I raised my hands in mock defense. "No dragons! I can barely handle one princess; I don't need my life resembling a poorly written fairy tale!"
She laughed, a sound that filled the room with warmth. "I promise to keep my transformations to a minimum. For now."