Apparently, I'm the Infamous Earl's Legendary Bride

Book 2: My Lord Saves the Citizens - Chapter 36

Grand Palace, St. George, Capital of Athol

The great hall was loud with laughter, chatter, and merriment, and tonight was more so than the others. King Henry had just received word that King Leon of Tasal had agreed to a meeting regarding the peace treaty between the two countries, and possibly, a future union between their children. Indeed, this was great news, and Henry couldn't help but burst out loudly in a merry cackle, his thick belly bobbing up and down as he did so.

Slapping his hand on his meaty thigh, he said, "I can't believe that bastard finally submits."

And all thanks to Aldric Templeton who had put in the final blow, thus destroying the Tasal's army, bringing down King Leon, the man Henry had tried to topple for decades.

Aldric Templeton, the gullible, half-wit who had been so easy to manipulate. He and his forefathers before him, the barbaric lot with naught in their heads but strength in their bodies.

Since his ruthless father, Edgar, had taken over the throne from his uncle Frederic and became king sixty years ago, Henry watched the Templeton serving Athol and the royal family with uttermost loyalty, participating in every war, and bringing them more land, wealth, and power. What reward they received in return for their herculean labor was minuscule in comparison to other lords who had put in much, much less effort. But, of course, those other lords knew how to play politics and rub shoulders. As for Aldric, Henry could only imagine that navigating his way through politics was akin to a fish trying to swim on land. Simply impossible.

Indeed, a desperate man would do anything to win—be it war or favor—and Aldric was desperate. The reward Henry had promised the man if the war campaign was successful would aid in reviving Norsewood, and Henry and his most trusted had ensured that Norsewood needed reviving, constantly.

Granted, the furtive, underhanded operation four years ago had been a tad bit overboard, that he admitted, but he simply hadn't any control over the situation. The stupid dragon the high priest Morgan had managed to get his hands on and control via his magic went awry, after all, and despite that their initial plan had been to set back Aldric and Norsewood's development, annihilating the town and murdering half the citizens had been an unexpected turn of events. But, well, a disaster was a disaster, and a dungeon break, albeit one that had been faked, was still a dungeon break.

"Your majesty," a servant appeared from among the crowd and kneeled before him. "A word."

"Rise," Henry said.

The servant stood and then came in close. He whispered, "They have returned."

They have returned indeed, Henry thought with a dark smile. He stood and said, "Radnor, accompany me."

"Aye, sire," the duke of Radnor said.

Leaving the party to continue, Henry, his personal secretary Armon, and Radnor paced along the corridor—lavish with stone walls and decorated with paintings and numerous treasures—and then up the stairs to Henry's private sitting room. There, a footman opened the door, and after Henry, Armon, and Radnor entered, he shut it again.

Henry noticed Frank, a big man with an ugly face, the type that made ones' toes curl in disgust, was presented in the room, along with the high priest Morgan.

"Sire," Frank said.

"Report," Henry commanded as he took a seat on the sofa.

Frank went to kneel in front of the man, and with his head bowed, he said, "Mission accomplished. We made sure to cripple Norsewood, so much so that they won't be able to even crawl again for many years to come."

"Details," Henry ordered.

"Aye, sire," Frank said. "We set the manor and all their makeshift cottages on fire. We burned all their winter supplies, their fields, and their livestock. Of course, as with any raids, some lives were lost, by our design, sire."

Henry burst out laughing. There were even tears—of joy, naturally—in his eyes. When he managed to stop, he said, "Good man. Reward. I must give you a handsome reward." He turned to Armon. "Arrange a reward for Frank and his comrades."

Armon nodded. "Aye, sire."

Frank smiled. "Thank you, sire."

Henry waved his gratitude aside. "You're dismissed. Remember, your mission was secret. If word of this spreads, yours and your men's heads will roll."

Frank, his face hard, said, "Our lips are sealed, sire."

Once Frank was gone, Henry said, "Again, tell me of Aldric's condition, Morgan. I desire to hear it."

Morgan, his eyes on the maniac who was their king, said, "His wound from the dragon's claws fester larger and uglier. No one will be able to save him, not even I, sire. His health is deteriorating, and it won't be long until he will pass. Five years is my estimation. It could be earlier if he encounters much stress and there is much stress once he saw the dire circumstances of his home."

Henry grinned, showing his stained teeth. "Five years, barely enough time to do anything. Barely enough time to bring Norsewood back to life. A future king, my fucking ass! Prophecy, my fucking ass! What indeed can he accomplish in five years? Nothing! Not when Norsewood is on the brink of extinction. When he's dying in five years." To Armon, he asked, "Any news from the knights and high priest dispatched to Bedford?"

Armon said, "The last we've received word was a few days ago, sire. The missive stated that Lord Norsewood has just arrived at Bedford and will be wed to either Lady Calla or Lady Iris soon."

"Soon," Henry said.

Armon said, "Considering the timing, it is likely Lord Norsewood is already wed, sire."

"And very likely on his way to Norsewood, too," Morgan said.

"On his way, eh?" Henry said, his eyes glinting. "Ah, but I desire to see his face when he witnesses the devastation that is his home."

"I would imagine it would drive a man insane with so much lost," Morgan said.

Henry snorted. "It would be great if he dies there and then. But it is Aldric, with blood blessed by Isaris, the Goddess of Strength and War, the type of blessing that shouldn't belong to any, let alone those blasted Templetons, a blessing that should have been granted to us, the Stuarts, to me, a king."

But alas, Henry was not blessed with such a desirable, powerful ability.

"Sire," Radnor said. "If I may?"

Henry turned his attention to the duke and said, "You may. Ask away."

"Our plan is to destroy Aldric and Norsewood, as to prevent the said prophecy, but why reward him a bride? And not just from any bloodline either, but the Bedfords? They are very wealthy, sire. If they were to aid—"

Henry held up his hand, thus halting Radnor from going any further. He said, "The Bedfords are a selfish lot. The fact that Bedford himself must give away one of his daughters to the likes of Aldric, a lord from a backwater region with naught wealth but poverty is insult enough to him. He thinks Aldric is no better than dirt, as I am. The man would rather see Aldric drown than offer his hand in aid. The fact that I'm tying Bedford to Aldric is a warning to Bedford. He dares to steal what's mine, my tax money, so he pays the price for his greed. Bedford will not do anything without consulting with me first from now on."

"Ah, I see," Radnor said. "I understand, sire." He chuckled. "But indeed, Bedford's daughters are very beautiful. I wonder which he has given away to Norsewood."

"It is unfortunate one of those beauties has to be sacrificed to Aldric, but it can't be helped," Henry said. "She will be free from the obligation after Aldric dies. Then I will reward her handsomely for her trouble." He chuckled. "I might even consider bringing her to my bed and make her one of my mistresses."

Morgan chuckled. "She will indeed be very grateful, sire."

"She undoubtedly will be," Henry said, licking his lips lecherously at the prospect of having yet another beauty in his bed.