To Love, Once Again

"Where is my wife and daughter?"

The cold words reverberate off the cold stone walls of an underground private dungeon, where an older nobleman, hair greyed at the temples and eyes bloodshot with fury, sends spit flying into the solemn messenger's face.

The messenger's eyes dart away from the man before him in the dark room, surrounded by shadows that line the walls around him. Lord Norwood was a skeletal, tall man, with deep set eyes that belied his cunning, sharp and darting about like a fox. One would be able see he'd been handsome in the past, though it was worn away with time spent indulging in pleasure as a river would wear the edges off of a rock.

It was the meeting place of the formerly Anti-Queen faction, the nobles who publicly and secretly detested the interference of an outsider Queen being summoned. Who wouldn't when they'd had their own daughters available to choose from. These were the nobles who coveted the power the King held for themselves. Most, if not all, had enjoyed their time under Lucien's father's reign, where they were left to their own devices, complete control over their own fiefs.

Hurriedly walking back to his desk, Lord Norwood takes an angry drag off the cigar that had been smoking there on the table.

"My Lord, our spies are working to find them, as we speak-" not meeting his eyes, the messenger responds.

From the shadows, a higher pitched voice speaks up, interrupting the messenger and revealing the Finance Minister, Lord Arledge's mouse-like features quivering in disgust.

"How much does your wife and daughter know!? I knew it was strange when the two started going around as if they were already royal!" The Finance Minister's grey wig shakes as he grows increasingly anxious, shaking his head back and forth as he speaks.

"Shut up, Arledge. I didn't hear you complaining at the last ball when you were congratulating Amelia's engagement to that King."

Flicking the ashes off his cigar onto the shorter man's grey wig, Lord Norwood snorts with sarcastic laughter as he spits out each word, emphasizing the last bit.

"Well the King never attended any balls, never said anything about who he was marrying except for the announcement, what else was I supposed to think!?"

Lord Arledge huffs as he pats the grey ashes off, responding with indignation as though he was the victim, though the words Lord Norwood spoke were true.

Taking off the dark hood that all the noblemen in the room wore, Records Minister Cromwell, a gaunt elderly man with white hands stained black with ink, reveals himself, shining ghostly white in the dark room with his pale skin spotted with age.

He speaks up, ignoring the glare that Lord Norwood shoots him. Records Minister Cromwell was the oldest man in the room. He was also the voice of reason behind Lord Norwood's many schemes.

"This is a concern, Lord Norwood. We got ahead of ourselves, revealed our hand too early. Now you have no daughter to make a Queen, no Dame Gertrude to control the noblewomen." Each word carried a heavy weight to them, creating a pressure that made Lord Arledge close his eyes in fear while other wiped the cold sweat off their brows.

Lord Norwood is the only one who seems nonplussed at his words, still radiating the angry energy from knowing that his plan had been thrown off track, again. Each time, when the nation of Thornmere was at the brink of collapse, the world at his fingertips, it had been brought to an abrupt halt, and back to recovery through the efforts of the new King and Queen, Lucien and Sera.

Lord Norwood hated them both. It was better when those two had been fighting each other, or at least separated. Together, those two had been unstoppable, but divided? The world was his for the taking. He'd almost danced in joy when that summoned woman returned to her home world, breaking the King. A broken King was an available seat on the throne. 'Shatter into smaller pieces', Lord Norwood had chanted in his heart. 'Lose yourself and rot' he'd laugh, as he watched the King lose his mind over a single woman.

Women were like dessert in his mind. Lovely to look at, great to taste, but overly sweet and addictive. No woman would ever break him.

"You wanted me to control those two? Women are fickle, ridiculous creatures who do whatever catches their fancy. How was I to know that a simple tea party in the castle would turn into this? Look what that summoned one made the King become. She's a witch, she is."

Everyone knew how obsessed King Lucien was with Lady Sera. The man who'd turned a blind eye to all the beautiful noblewomen in the capital had followed the girl around like a baby duckling follows its mother, even instilling the King's Secret Guard to protect her. Only Lord Cromwell knew this, but the Secret Guard was something that was for the use of the King, and the King only. It was unheard of to use them to guard the Queen.

Thud! A fist crashes against the table, exhibits enough force to make any of the writing instruments and crystal drinking classes shake. The other men in the room however, servants and mercenaries alike, shift on their feet or glance away in fear. Except strange old Lord Cromwell.

Rubbing his temples, Lord Norwood takes another drag off his cigar, inhaling the smoke deeply into his lungs.

"We can still use this. As soon as we find where the two are, it will act as good evidence for us to stage a coup d'état. As we speak, that King is working to diminish our power, channel our funds for his own gain.....But before that. We need to weaken the King's power. "

If he couldn't access the throne through marriage, he would take it by force. Lord Norwood and the other nobles a part of the Anti-Queen faction were unwilling to let go of the sweet taste of power that dripped onto their tongues. One taste, and they were all hooked, wanting more. The moment Sera left and Lucien went on his rampage, crying out in loss and anger, they were busy digging their claws in deeper, fighting over a bigger piece of the pie.

Lord Cromwell sighs, the intake of breath looking mechanical, strange, like his body was a cheap, child's wind-up toy. "So it's come to this. If only old King Wiliam had done a better job of controlling that boy, and that woman, too."

That woman, Sera had been very dangerous, with her ideas of a nation ruled by the people. It had been a travesty to watch her treat the nobles and servants like they were the same class, see her go to the battlefield and become a healer, of all things. That cold King had become obsessed with her, and it had taken a lot of effort on his part to invoke separation between them using his authority, stressing the importance of duty and tradition. 'Couldn't she wave a handkerchief and shed a few tears like the other women', Lord Cromwell had thought when he heard the news. The records had mentioned how different a world Summoned Ones came from, but he'd never thought it would be this different.

"That pipsqueak!! We've been around far longer than he ever has. He'd been such a good, obedient child, up until he rebelled against his father, against me! After that fake Queen left, things were going back on track, but now look at us! Reduced to scheming more plans!"

Ashes fall off the tip of the glowing red cigar, as Lord Norwood's fingers shake with the anger humming off of him.

A knight rushes into the room, bearing the symbol of the Norwood family, a knotted tree entwined with a snake on his armor.

"Mi'lord, a report from one of our spies just in. Dame Gertrude and Lady Amelia were last seen being escorted by King Lucien's knights-"

"Aha! I knew it!" Lord Norwood grunts in satisfaction, pounding the new knight's shoulder. He shows no care for the fact that his wife and daughter were missing, only thinking of new ways he could twist the information for his own advantage. After all, their only worth to him was as pawns in the game for power. Though it hurt to have the two who controlled the noblewomen unavailable for his use, it was more of an inconvenience. It would take time, but he could marry another woman and beget another child with her.

"Yes, mi'Lord, it seems a high probability that the King has had taken them away"

"Andre!" Looking calm and alert, thanks in part to the cigar in his hand, and having a new plan in place, Lord Norwood calls for his head knight.

"Yes, mi'Lord"

From the side of the room, a blonde knight with a rough demeanor, seeming more like a street thug than an elegant knight, salutes Lord Norwood.

Lord Norwood puffs out a long cloud of smoke, tense shoulders relaxing the slightest bit, as he nods to the bloodied heap chained to the wall in one corner.

"What of the magician?"

Shaking his head, Andre, Head Knight of the Norwood family, kicks the mass of what looks like dirty rags and blood with one muddied boot. "He's of no use right now, mi'Lord. His powers are no longer enough to scry into the castle, no matter how far we push him."

"Too bad. Well, at least he'd done his part to torment the two. It was good enough if he'd been able to amplify the negative emotions between the two for so long. Give him some bread for the trouble"

And with that, the magician was gone from Lord Norwood's thoughts. Once the magician was healthy enough to wield more magic, his people would tell him. The magician was a useful tool, although his magic was unreliable, and prone to emotional outbursts. Like any animal, every human had their weakness. Lord Norwood would use those weaknesses to his advantage. The magician too, had quieted down once they showed him a finger. His daughter's finger, to be exact.

Another nobleman, one of Lord Norwood's ardent supporters, rubs his hands together as he takes the chance to fawn over the Lord smoking his cigar, deep in thought.

"I must say, that King Lucien had done us a favor when he rampaged against the magicians like he did 5 years ago. "

Lord Cromwell sends a glance over, a warning look that tells them all not to count their victory just yet. They'd celebrated too soon after the Queen's return, enjoying freedom over their fiefs until 2 years after her departure, when King Lucien had turned a watchful eye onto their comings and goings, limiting the high tariffs and taxes they'd been levying on their people.

Ignoring his lackey, Lord Norwood speaks to Andre instead, drawing out his words with care, slowly and with relish, like the smoke he puffs out, one breath at a time.

"I have a new job for you, Andre"

"Yes mi'Lord" Andre is quick to respond with a salute.

Instead of the usual honorary salute of pounding over the heart with a closed fist, it's a formal salute one would do to a deeply respected personage, used more often now for ceremonies than for daily use.

This was a salute where a person would sit on the back of their calves, both palms touching the ground in front of them, head bowed. It displayed complete respect and subservience to the master. Nowadays, only the King was the recipient of such displays of reverence, yet none of the nobles looked surprised to see Knight Andre do it for Lord Norwood, which showed it to be a common occurrence.

"Find out if he's still keeping his spawn in the villa by the castle. I'm sure that woman has some affection for it if she's come back to the castle, working as a mistress."

Tapping his chin in satisfaction, Lord Norwood gestures throwing in a fishing line and reeling back the pole, like he was catching a large fish.

"We can create a chain reaction, use the smaller fish to draw out the bigger one, until we get the king fish"

Andre licks his lips. "Mi'lord, we don't have any contacts within the maids taking care of the prince, how would we-"

Lord Norwood waves off the knight's question.

"That's your job to figure out. Use money, use force, I don't care." He crouches down, coming to eye-level with the knight who is still in his subservient posture, head bowed.

Bringing his fingers to his mouth for one last delicious inhale of spicy, intoxicating smoke, he blows it in Knight Andre's face, whose eyes water but don't blink. The other knights, Andre's men, watch with tight faces and clenched jaws as they know what Lord Norwood was going to do next.

Szzzzzzzz. The sound of flesh meeting heat.

Lord Norwood presses the still burning cigar butt into the back of the knight's hand that was pressed to the floor.

"You know what it means if you fail?"

"Yes, mi'lord"

"Good"

One last twist, and the cigar lets out another sizzling sound. Andre doesn't even wince, keeping his eyes from meeting Lord Norwood's. He was a mercenary promoted to a knight, then head knight by Lord Norwood's grace. This was a dream job for someone like him, an orphan that floated around, belonging nowhere.

"Do. Not. Fail. Me." With each word, Lord Norwood taps his cigar on top of the knights head, and turns, dismissing him.

Lord Cromwell, turns his ghastly face to look at each nobleman there.

"We must all stay quiet for now. Keep training your men at night, only when you know there's no one else watching. Do not raise a fuss about what happened with Lady Amelia and Dame Gertrude."

"Agreed." The other noblemen nod and leave the room, located in a secret location within the capital with a gloomy atmosphere, making sure to depart separately at different times to draw less suspicion.