Or Else Let Her Be Mine And Mine Alone

The Alchemist's Associate

The servants at the castle of Arras were quick- by evening, the room of the betrothal was bathed in gold, with magnificent mahogany tables laid out for guests to relax.

Frollo had always preferred not engaging with his colleagues in Paris, deeming them as undisciplined and lacking commitment. As he climbed the ranks and saw the elder men who lauded him get replaced by younger ones who feared him, the distance grew. Sparing Charmolue, few understood the nuances of philosophy and higher academics. However, his negotiation with Louis in the meeting had evidently made his presence felt. He received a warm welcome in the room, particularly by youths who expressed their wishes to learn from him. All throughout he maintained the flawless semblance of a wise and composed scientist. He felt good to feel important after such a long time, and it would also benefit the upcoming deal.

One of the youths was the Austrian minister from the meeting, named Gabriel Fischer, and quite new to politics. 'Your handling of the situation was tremendous!' he said. 'I had nearly given up after the marshal's threat.'

'Nothing personal, monsieur. France's glorious legacy was on stake,' the marshal joked, also present there. 'But you spoke well.'

Frollo said, 'It was my pleasure to assist in the proceedings. I admire your courage, monsieur Fischer, but King Louis is not one to take criticism well. Next time, keep a mental list of the people you can afford to offend.'

Gabriel nodded. 'Don't take this personally, but I think that you did more help to our side than you did to the French.' Frollo smiled. 'Then I suppose the Holy Roman Empire is in my debt.'

The buisine sounded to announce the bride and groom's arrival. Everyone turned their heads towards the door.

Dressed in a neat cotehardie and accompanied by a pack of French soldiers, Prince Charles came in. The soldiers were followed by a similar pack of handmaidens, and a little girl drowned in heaps of black velvet and pearls. The guard boomed, 'His Royal Highness the Dauphin of France, Prince Charles of Valois, and her Royal Highness, Princess Margaret of Austria!' The room roared with applause. The petite bride and groom gave courteous smiles to the guests who were towering over them. They reached the high table, and a bit clumsily, stood next to each other.

King Louis and Maximilian entered amidst a similar round of applause. Unlike his son, Louis mostly snubbed the officials congratulating him and made his way straight to the table. Maximilian patted the heads of Charles and Margaret.

The ceremony was long- Maximilian had to scold Margaret several times to make her go with the entirety of it. On the contrary, a single glance of Louis was enough for Charles. After performances of the troubadours and a dreary Christian play, both of which mostly comprised flatteries for the King, at last Charles slipped a tiny gold ring on Margaret's finger, and everybody seated themselves for dinner.

'She's a fair child, Margaret,' Gabriel said.

Frollo looked towards the archduchess. She was indeed pretty, having golden hair and soft brown eyes, although she seemed sleepy. A bit of a contrast to the young Dauphin, who had a large head and rather bulging eyes, possibly due to his family's history of arranging marriages in the bloodline.

The food was again decadent. King Louis savored plates of buttery asparagus and pasties filled with mushroom and cheddar. Even the wine was sweetened and spiced. For some time Maximilian tried his level best to not cringe at the monarch until he excused himself from the table.

'Are you not going to eat more?' said Gabriel, seeing that the duke was coming towards their table. Maximilian shook his head. 'I lost my appetite.' The minister chuckled.

Maximilian sat down. 'I cannot express my gratitude for your help, Monseigneur,' he told Frollo. 'The tales of your caliber are true, after all. You should teach something to my people.'