Tilda, arms full of arrows, walked over to Felux who was standing near the armory tent. Felux, who was ever conscious of Tilda, noticed her downcast eyes, furrowed brow and clenched teeth.
Picking a few of the arrows out of her arms, Felux asked, "Somethin… wrong?"
Tilda huffed, "Forget trying to save Cosaria from monsters, she's going to get eaten alive by these high society figures."
Felux began to fill a quiver full of arrows, as Tilda helped him. He was trying to think of what to say to help comfort Tilda, when a Lord approached. He was an older man, mid-fifties, wearing yellow, with greasy dark black hair, hard shadowed eyes, and an excellently styled beard. He was attended by a priest and a knight. To Felux, something about the man seemed familiar. Unnervingly familiar.
The Lord examined the weapons; rows of maces, bows, swords and daggers aligned in perfect rows. Ready for the competition.
The Lord, who had the pompous stride of an exceedingly high noble, turned to Felux and asked, "Are we taking all these on the hunt?"
Felux was studying the Lord's face. Tilda elbowed Felux in the gut when she saw the suspicious eyebrow raise on the Lord's face.
Felux said, "Ahem. We'll be takin most of them. There's a few extra small bows and daggers that we'll be leavin here."
"Very good."
Suddenly, it hit Felux. His eyes widened, as he remembered where he had seen the excellently styled dark haired beard before.
The Lord scoured at Felux and said, "Is there something on my face, boy?"
Felux relaxed into his casual demeanor, saying, "Naw. You've a distinct presence, Sir. That's all."
"I should expect so."
The Lord turned his back to leave. His knight did not follow, instead the Knight, a buff man, got up in Felux's face.
With a menacing breath, the knight said, "Watch the way you act around Duke Grysle."
Felux bowed with mock respect, "I dinna know."
The knight, whose name was Yrse, spat on the ground next to Felux. Then he turned his back and followed his Lord.
After the initial stun wore off, Tilda asked, "What was all that about?"
Felux pulled Tilda close and whispered, "Avoid that man. Fer both you and the Lady. Avoid him at all costs…" Felux suddenly relaxed, as if to reassure himself and not to alarm Tilda. "A precaution of course."
"Of course." Tilda lifted an eyebrow, unconvinced by Felux's attempt not to worry her. If Felux thought that man was bad news, that something to take note of.
༻✧༺
Delrik was surrounded by a few other noblemen. The men were chatting incessantly, no doubt they were sycophants hoping to gain his favor. Pathetic.
Delrik's interest was momentarily peaked when the big nosed gentleman brought out a handkerchief to show the crowd. He said, "My Lady went to the furthest corner of the country to buy the silk for my handkerchief."
Lord Mallord, a man with pointy ears, displayed three handkerchiefs, each embroidered with beautiful designs. He bragged, "I received three handkerchiefs from three different ladies."
The third gentleman, a shorter man with fair features said, "Lord Delrik, are you planning on accepting a handkerchief this year?"
A simmering anticipation blossomed in Delrik's heart. He had always rejected handkerchiefs in the past. They were pathetic gifts from more pathetic ladies. However, at the thought that Cosaria had prepared one for him… well, he could only respond, "Naturally."
Big nose said, "That's right, this young buck is married now gentlemen."
Mallord said, "Show it." As someone who often compared himself to the younger Duke, he was worried that Delrik's one handkerchief could outshine his three individual handkerchiefs. Duke Arquix always had a way of outdoing everyone else in absolutely everything. He was much resented for it, as well as begrudgingly respected.
Delrik said, "I don't have it."
The three gentlemen exchanged worried glances.
Big nose said, "She hasn't given it to you yet?"
Mallord concluded this as a win. He shrugged, saying, "Stilted by his own wife. Rough."
Delrik said, "Do you want to have your head hung among the mounts of antlers on my wall?"
Mallord, who was fed up with Delrik's large ego, mumbled, "I thought marriage would have loosened him up. Looks like I was wrong."
Delrik panicked for a moment thinking, What if she didn't prepare one for me? She told me she'd have one ready… didn't she???
Before Delrik could take out his worries on one of the men, Felux approached.
Felux said, "Lord Delrik, a word."
Delrik walked a few paces away with Felux. Felux stood next to Delrik and spoke low, his eyes scanning around to see if anyone was watching them. Felux said, "The summoner's here."
Instantly, Delrik's eyes sharpened. He questioned, "From the church?"
Felux nodded. It was the man he saw surrounded by green fire when Felux had gone to steal the scrolls from the church. It was during their humanitarian trip to the southern area. The trip where Cosaria had called fourth rains from the sky. Though it had taken him a second to remember, Felux was good with faces, and he knew that that man was the very same summoner who had been calling forth demons with a following of cultish priests.
Felux said the summoner's name, "Duke Grylse."
"Curse it."
"He brought a priest."
"An underling no doubt." Delrik said, "What is he planning?"
"I can find out."
Tapping his fingers on his arm, Delrik said, "No, we can't let him know we're on to him. Keep your eyes open, but don't look suspicious."
Felux nodded.
"Felux, one last thing."
"Aye?"
Suddenly, Delrik turned away and cleared his throat, "Lady Cosaria, does she have a handkerch-... nevermind."
A sly smile crossed Felux's lips. He said, "You're insecure Milord?"
"You're excused."
Felux feigned a dramatic sigh, "But who could resist you?"
"Get out of my face."
Felux trotted away but not before flashing finger hearts towards the Duke. Gritting his teeth, Delrik regretting ever having attempted to ask.
༻✧༺
Tilda was bored. She had finished all the necessary tasks for setting up lodging. She'd made sure Cosaria was as comfortable as possible. She'd caught up on all the latest noble gossip. Although, there seemed to be one piece of gossip that didn't quite make sense to Tilda.
Tilda watched as Lady Kelma, a blushing young woman, gave an embroidered handkerchief to a young Lord. The Lady was too young to be out in public but, as the gossip went, her mother was a pushy sort of woman, eager to get her daughter married off. The young Lord, a comely fellow from a seaside estate, received the handkerchief with an equally blushing face.
Lady Kelma's maid puffed out her chest in unrestrained pride as Tilda raised an eyebrow.
In her bubbly exuberance, Kelma's maid said, "She did it!"
Tilda liked bubbly people, but this girl was on a whole other level. Being around her was like dunking your head in foaming soap bubbles again, and again, and again without having a chance to breathe. She graded Tilda's nerves.
Forgetting who she was standing next to, Tilda asked, "What's the deal with the handkerchiefs?"
Tilda realized her error as soon as the unrelenting stream of words tumbled out of the maid's mouth, "It's only the sole reason noble's have the hunting competition! It's sooo romantic too. The ladies give their handkerchief away as a sign of devotion and love. The handkerchiefs are always embroidered with the most elaborate and symbolic designs. Lady Kelma embroidered hers with a blue jay. He's going to keep it with him the entire hunt and think of her as he's hunting! So adorable! Then, at the end, the Lords dedicate their hunt to the Lady of their choosing, usually the one who gave them the handkerchief. But not always. Oh, I hope he dedicates his hunt to Lady Kelma! But she's just far too young. But wouldn't it be romantic!" She sighed, "I wish I had someone to give a handkerchief to."
Hoping the maid's mouth stayed shut, Tilda glanced over at Delrik. He stood by his horse, tapping his foot and staring fixedly at Cosaria. If Tilda didn't know any better, she would have thought the calm, collected Delrik looked antsy.
Why is he… Tilda thought. Eyes widening, realization struck her as she registered what was happening. Oh no. Lord Delrik is going to be expecting a handkerchief and I didn't have Cosaria prepare one!!!
Clearing her throat, Tilda cautiously asked, "What happens if a Lady doesn't happen to give a handkerchief to her Lord? Especially if he expects it?"
"That would be horrible! Just awful. There really couldn't be a bigger insult. It's the same as saying that she wants him to die on the hunting field. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Heartless really."
Tilda ran off, trying to come up with some kind of solution. She was thinking, Curse these stupid noble traditions and customs! Why is everything always a big deal!!!
༻✧༺
As the trumpeter blew the trumpet to signal for the contestants to take position, Tilda pushed Cosaria towards Delrik.
Tilda said, "Go, they're starting!"
Cosaria, who was holding a little white handkerchief said, "Are you sure?"
Tilda said, "GO!"
Tilda had thrown together some sort of romantic stupid substitute that would satisfy these gossip hungry nobles. Hopefully, it would be enough.
༻✧༺
A few noble ladies grouped together, watching Duke Arquix. With his mysterious atmosphere and alluring physical features, the lascivious woman couldn't help but devour the available eye candy. They chatted amongst themselves like the gossips they were:
"Maybe I should have given him my handkerchief."
"No way, that's Duke Arquix, he's waiting for a handkerchief from his wife."
"She hasn't given it to him yet?"
"I heard it was an arranged marriage."
"A loveless marriage?"
She gave a quiet shrug, but her face nodded. The rest of the woman understood the gesture as a resounding confirmation.
"But even then. To jilt him a handkerchief? Isn't that a bit too cruel?"
Just then, Cosaria ran up to Delrik, halting all further gossip.
Cosaria said, "Forgive me. Here, this is for you. Would you please accept it?"
Arms extended, Cosaria held out a neatly folded handkerchief. Delrik let out a small breath, as he took the parcel and opened it.
He said, "Ah yes. I will gladly accept… what is this?"
Inside the handkerchief, sewn into place on the fabric, was a small key.
Cosaria held up Tilda's lock, saying, "It's the key to this lock." The lock had a long looping chain attached, turning it into a necklace. Cosaria pulled the chain around her head and said the words Tilda had told her to say, "My heart will be locked while you are away. Take the key with you, to symbolize that only you have the key to my heart. Until then, I shall patiently wait, with this lock around my neck, as if it were my heart. You must return safely, promise me you will? Promise me?"
Delrik suddenly felt a manly weight fall onto his shoulders. He had a purpose to fulfill. He said, "I promise."
"As the key returns safely, so must you. Because, you," She blushed feverishly, "Only you can unlock my heart."
Delrik fingered a long strand of Cosaria's hair. He couldn't resist as he brought the strand of hair to his lips and kissed it, saying, "I understand."
Cosaria blushed as she registered all the attention she was getting from all the onlookers. Surely, that was the only reason why she was blushing, right? She said, "I know it's just a commoner's tradition, but I had hoped its humble origins would not dissuade you from accepting it. Forgive me for being so insecure."
Delrik said, "All is forgiven." Then he put the handkerchief, sewn with the key, into his breast pocket, close to his heart.
One of the Ladies watching almost fainted from how thick the romance in the air was. Undoubtedly, this would become a legend among the nobles, if not the new trend at hunting competitions.
The trumpeter blew the horn again and Delrik mounted his horse. The competition was about to start.
Delrik said, "Await my return."
Holding the lock, Cosaria said, "I shall."
Finally, the last signal was given in a resounding trumpet blow, as Delrik rode off with Felux following close behind.
The lascivious woman gossipers had become stiff with envy, wide eyed with exhilaration, and jaw dropped with pure shock.
Tilda however, did not join the crowd in feeling the effects of pure love manifested. Her eyes were a bit downcast as he thought, Well, it's not quite how the tradition goes, but it'll work. Then she sighed as she looked over the bridge in the distance. The bridge where her lock was supposed to be latched. Latched for her and Felux.