Amelia was led to the estate. The guards accompanying her opened the doors to the throne room and waited for her to enter. When she saw who was sitting on the throne, she tightened her jaw.
"My father has barely disappeared and you seek to fill his role already?" She fired off. She didn't care what the count did to her. She was angry.
"I must say this is one comfy chair," the count said.
He smiled wide, "Amelia, darling, it is so good to see you again." His eyes ate her up and he scanned her figure.
She cringed, this guy was awful. She despised the man. She said nothing. If she could have left, she would have already walked out.
"My, my, not in the mood to play, are we?" the count asked, raising his eyebrow at her.
She continued to glower at him. "I see," the count continued.
"Well, that's unfortunate. And will probably make this next part even more awkward."
Her gut dropped. She struggled to keep the vomit at bay. She knew what was coming next before the count even opened his mouth.
"You are of marrying age, are you not, dear Amelia?" the count asked.
Her face was hard. She clenched her fists at her side as she stood there facing the count.
"So, let me clue you in on what's going to happen," the count said, raising his hand. He raised one finger, "Number 1, your father is never coming back."
He waited to see what she would do. She ground her teeth but said nothing.
Continuing on, the count raised a second finger, "I find myself in need of a queen, someone to help solidify my position as the new duke. And I have determined that person to be you. What do you think of that wonderful idea?" the count said as he laughed and smiled at her.
Amelia fumed, " I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on Earth," she blurted.
Temper engaged she kept going, "There isn't a thing in this world that would ever force me to willingly marry you," she spat. And then for good measure, she hawked back and really did spit. Then she smiled big at the Count. How do you like them apples?
The count laughed even harder, slapping both his knees. He looked over at Henry who had stood silent during all of this.
"Don't you just love how feisty she is?" he said.
Henry didn't respond, a slight tick to his jaw, that the count failed to notice.
The count held up his third finger, "My dearest Amelia, I saved the best for last, unless you do "willingly" decide to marry me, your father will die," he stretched it out, smiling slowly as she realized what he'd just said.
"You know where my father is?" she stammered. Then the realization hit her, "You took him. You're the one who made him disappear."
The count's eyes lit up at her realization. He laughed, "Ah, my dear, you are quite a sharp tac. I knew you'd figure it out eventually."
Amelia was floored. She felt empty. What was she to do? How could she save her father if she didn't go through with this? "And if I do marry you, then what happens to my father?" she asked, hating herself for asking.
"Why, I'll tell ya where he is," the count said, shrugging his shoulders.
"The damage is already done. The duke has been out-duked and now that the kingdom is mine, he'll never sit on this throne again," the count said as he pounded his fist against the arm of the chair.
"Do we have a deal?" the count asked, imploringly, his eyes roving over her again.
Amelia was on the verge of tears. This was her father. Her father's city. She couldn't just let it all go without trying to save him. Almost quieter than a whisper, Amelia answered.
"What? What was that?" the count asked, holding his hand against his ear.
"I said yes," Amelia shouted. And then she turned and walked towards the door.
"Ah, ah, ah, where are you going?"
"Back to my cell," she said.
"No, no, no my dear, that simply won't do. From now until the wedding, you will remain in your quarters. I wouldn't want your new "friends" (and he actually used air quotes) to try and get any smart ideas."
Amelia's face fell. She had hoped, she'd have a chance to get with the others. What would they think of her now? What would Joedan think? Oh..God, she wanted to cry so bad, she was so angry.
"Guard, take Lady Amelia to her quarters."
"Yes, my lord," grabbing her by the elbow, the guard pointed her towards the door and they left the room.
Looking over at Henry, the Count said, "Well, that went pretty well, don't ya think?"
Henry said nothing.
"Ah, Henry, my man, lighten up. It's okay to smile every once in awhile," the count joked.
Still Henry's face remained stone.
*****
Ralph was escorted away from the others when they arrived in Restin. He knew it was only a matter of time before the count intervened, that's why he had been so willing to go along with this group. That's why he quit struggling to get free. He knew the count was an ambitious man, he would never settle for anything less than ruling the city.
Two guards accompanied Ralph as he entered the estate. They led him down the hall and to the Count's office. Once entered, Ralph waited for the Count to show up. Sitting in a chair, he threw his legs up.
The door opened and the count stepped in. "Ralph," the count said. "What have I told you about your feet?"
Ralph lowered his feet, sitting up straight as he watched the count enter the room. "Pretty fortunate that everyone made it back to the city so you could enact your plan, huh boss?" Ralph smiled.
The count said nothing. Standing with his back to Ralph, the count stood silent. Henry wasn't in the room this time, which Ralph noted as odd. When were those two ever apart? He quickly discarded the thought bringing his focus back on the count.
The count ran his fingers along the bookshelf he was facing, tapping a finger on each book as he went. Ralph didn't understand why the count was being so silent. He thought the count would be elated.
"Sir, aren't ya happy? You're the new duke now." Ralph said, trying to reassure himself more than anything.
The count's jaw ticked. He grabbed one of the books and chucked it at Ralph. Ralph put his hands up but then another book was flying towards him, and another. The count grabbed a stack from the shelf, turned and one by one pelted them in Ralph's direction, taking a step closer each time.
With the last book, he raised his hand and brought it down hard on Ralph's head. Crouching down, the Count got to eye level with Ralph. Ralph could see the pure hatred in the count's eyes. Afraid to make the matter worse, Ralph stayed silent holding his hands up, to prevent any further injury.
Face to face with the count, the count spoke, "You are a disgrace to me." The venom dripped off each word as the count spoke. "You have failed me at every turn."
The count stood and turned again, "Send you to do a simple kidnapping," he threw up his hands, "Botched that. Then I send you to clean up your own mess because you were outsmarted by a farmer. I give you the resources to hire a group of bandits. And what happens?" The count turned, stammering at Ralph.
"You botch that, too."
"And to try and take credit for the apprehension of the group I sent you after?" The count was shouting now.
"IT WAS MY PLAN," the count screamed.
"I apprehended them," he said.
"You? You are only here because they did not kill you when they had the chance. It is their mercy that allows you to sit in this very seat."
Ralph swallowed. He knew he hadn't followed through on what the count had asked, but he thought it would still work out since everything seemed to be working in the count's favor.
"I'm sorry, my lord," Ralph offered up, weakly.
"You're sorry?" the count said.
"You know what, actually, yeah, you are sorry." The count turned away from Ralph headed back towards his desk.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," the count said.
"You asked for me, my lord?" the Captain said.
"Yes, Captain, thank you for coming so promptly." The count smiled and Ralph blanched.
"Captain, do you know who this man is?" he asked, not giving anything away yet.
"No sir, I've never met the man before," the captain said.
"Well, I should hope not, this man right here is the person responsible for kidnapping Lady Amelia."
He bit his teeth, locking eyes with Ralph. The captain looked at Ralph, quickly coming to the side, he told Ralph to stand. Ralph was still bound from when the others had captured him. Grabbing his arm tightly, the captain looked back at the Count.
"This man is to be executed." The count said, all emotion leaving his face. All color left Ralph's face.
"Also, congratulations are in order, I am to be wed," the count smiled at the captain. "A wedding, my lord?"
"Yes, captain, Miss Amelia has accepted my proposal. Isn't that just wonderful?"
The captain tightened his jaw, and thought maybe he had a sudden bout of indigestion as he tried to get the nausea to dissipate. "Yes, sir. Congratulations," he said.
"In three days time, we will have the wedding," the count continued, "And we will also be having a public execution."
This time the count looked at Ralph, his normal scowl fixed in place. "Take him to the jail, Captain."
The captain grabbed Ralph's arm, as Ralph stumbled to get his feet working. "Come on, prisoner," the captain said.
Ralph looked back at the count, but he was staring out the window, a glass of brandy in his hand.
How had the count turned this situation around on him, Ralph thought to himself as he followed the Captain out of the room. It was supposed to be me getting back at the count, not this! Ralph's shoulders sagged as the captain led him out of the estate.
They approached the gate to the jail and the guard waved them through. The captain walked Ralph down the hallway and opened a cell on the left, tossing him inside. As the captain closed the door and turned the lock, he looked across the hall.
He saw Commander Griff and the others. Commander Griff was looking right at him, no fear in his eyes. The captain gulped and averted his gaze before turning and walking back down the hallway.
Ralph lay face down on the sandy floor of the jail. He began to sob. He had yet to grieve the loss of his brother. He hadn't been able to avenge him. And now, he would never get the chance to.
Rolling away from the cell door, Ralph grabbed his knees and curled into the tightest ball he could, begging for sleep to claim him from this nightmare.