The Dark Noble

VII

The dark halls echoed with the sounds of footsteps. The air stilled, almost as if it was afraid of eliciting a reaction from the person walking through it. Lord Maroke's face was cast in an indifferent mask, though a slight pinch appeared on his forehead. Someone had caught his attention, a situation which was weird in itself. He never noticed anyone, but he still couldn’t get the image of the maid he saw lined outside the hallway. She seemed very familiar, her face eliciting a feeling he couldn’t place. It was also a weird thing, as he never felt anything.

That was not the first time he had seen her. Upon his recent return back to his home, he had gone to the upper floors to check on his son and was surprised to see his much proud son cosying up with a person he’d normally deem below his status. That strange feeling he had felt earlier had come upon him then, and he didn’t understand it, brushing it off as his body twitching. Now, he’d have to check in with his doctor. Perhaps something was wrong with him.

He pushed the door to his study open, its hinges making a squeaky noise. It seemed judgmental, chiding its master for his always absent nature. Lord Maroke walked in, taking in the dark yet huge splendour of his office. This was his haven, his safe place. When a lot of things didn’t make sense, he liked to make his way back in there. It wasn’t very often, as he was hardly ever around, but when he was, he made good use of it. He closed the door behind him, making a mental note to ask for the hinges to be replaced, and walked over to his desk. As expected, piles of correspondence lay atop it, several days' worth of work waiting for him. He sighed and sat down behind the desk and started working on it immediately.

About an hour later, the door to his study opened and in walked his personal assistant.

‘Greyson,’ Lord Maroke said without looking up. ‘What took you so long?’

‘My lord, apologies for my delay,’ Greyson said. Lord Maroke looked up and his assistant bowed slightly. ‘There was a slight problem at the post office, so I had to stay back to assist.’ He walked over and placed the letters atop his desk, and Lord Maroke stopped what he was doing to drag the small pile towards him.

‘The princess has once again sent another letter,’ Greyson said, his voice not betraying his emotions. Lord Maroke might not have feelings, but he knew very well how to read others. His assistant was tired of receiving errands from the princess just to gain the attention of his master.

‘Did you throw it away?’ Lord Maroke asked indifferently.

‘I dare not, sir. Who knows what important message she has for you,’ his assistant answered, slight sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Lord Maroke sighed and began opening the letters, sorting them out according to their importance. Most of them came from his business associates, and the others were written by people inviting him to their parties. He still couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t give up. He had made sure that news spread that he didn’t like attending any of those boring events, where people only came to showcase splendour and boast of their wealth and status.

‘Why do they keep sending me invites?’ he said, raising one of them up to study the intricate design by its side.

‘Rumours have it that they have made it some sort of competition, my lord, about who would be the first person whose party you ever attend.’

‘But I attend parties, don’t I?’

‘Not ones hosted by the elites, sir,’ Greyson said. ‘You only ever attend the royal ones, and even then you had no choice but to because you were forced.’

‘Hmm,’ Lord Maroke exclaimed, not saying anything else.

‘My lord,’ Greyson said after a while of silence, his voice careful. ‘Perhaps you should attend one of them.’

‘And why is that?’ Lord Maroke asked, going back to the work he was earlier doing.

‘You need to get married, my lord.’

At that, Lord Maroke paused. It was a strange thing, especially coming from his assistant. ‘Why should I?’

‘You need more heirs.’

‘But I already have an heir,’ Lord Maroke said.

‘And this is another important fact, my lord. The young lord needs a mother. I fear he has become much too lonely in this big home.’

‘Claudia is here to take care of him.’

‘It’s not the same, my lord.’ Greyson sighed. ‘I was told that he made a ruckus the other day because he wished to see you but could not.’

‘He is a man. He needs to learn to be by himself.’ His mind flashed back to the maid standing outside his son’s room, her face etched in a smile. ‘It would hurt him if he doesn’t.’

Greyson remained silent, then said, ‘My lord, have you given up on getting rid of the curse?’

‘I do not know, Greyson,’ he paused and looked at his assistant. ‘What is the point? I tried it and ended up with a son whose mother I have no memory of. Strange yet again, you are the only person who remembers her.’

‘I was away in another town when the incident happened,’ his assistant said, his voice filled with remorse. ‘I do not know what happened, and no matter how hard I try to find out, I never get a clue. I have even searched for his mother, but she disappeared without a trace.’

‘Perhaps she is dead,’ Lord Maroke said bluntly, and Greyson remained silent in reluctant agreement.

Lord Maroke released a small sigh and leaned back in his seat. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll think about your suggestion.’

At that, Greyson grinned widely and bowed. ‘I assure you,’ he said, ‘this is the right step to take.’

Lord Maroke nodded. ‘I believe you have other errands to attend. Why don’t you go and do them? Should I seek your help, I’ll call for you. I need some quiet.’

‘Of course, my lord,’ Greyson said. He bowed one final time, then left the study, closing the doors gently behind him.

Lord Maroke went back to his work, then after a second thought, he pressed the bell by his table to call a maid to his office. As usual, Claudia was the one who knocked and entered his study. She was the only other adult he could tolerate after Greyson.

‘My lord,’ she bowed. ‘What do you need?’

‘My son, where is he?’

Claudia stood straight, her face etched in a slight frown. ‘He is in the kitchen, my lord.’

That was odd, Lord Maroke thought.

‘What is he doing there?’

‘He is taken with a new maid, and had asked everyone to leave them alone. Should I send for them?’

He shook his head, the image of the maid flashing through his mind. ‘Do not bother,’ he said. Claudia bowed, then walked out of the study.

That maid, there really is something strange about her. His son must have noticed too, because there was no good reason as to why he would hang out with her. He looked down at his desk, and his eyes caught the letter from the princess. It was the only one he hadn’t opened. He sighed, then removed the seal from the front side of the envelope, and began scanning through the content. The more he read, the more a slight frown appeared on his forehead. The princess always sent letters inviting him to dinners and dates and other things he much lacked interest in. He had expected the same thing this time around but was surprised to see it wasn’t him she asked for. Rather, she was requesting his son's presence.

‘I am organizing a play date for the young nobles, for the sake of my younger brother. Perhaps your son would love to attend. He might make new friends. I look forward to hearing back from you.
Yours with love,
Princess Amara.’