Chapter 103 - Words Like Daggers

The most notorious region of Clatoise, rural and crawling with criminals on the lookout, is none other than a small town called Huwen.

Or 'was', to be exact. 

Huwen wasn't always that way, of course. It used to be a sunny town where kids played all day and the smell of fresh bread brought customers to the market. Yvonne remembered walking through its streets once when she was younger. She had a lovely time then.

But then the 'incident' happened.

The town burned in the night whilst families ran away from the shelter of their roofs while others got buried under the falling debris. It was a scene so like hell. After everything was over and the flames were vanquished, all that was left were the skeletons of houses and a load of ash.

To the people who lost their families and homes, this was an act of pure hatred and uttermost bitterness, caused by none other than a group of criminals as a sick joke. But the event was publicized as 'Just another accident' on the notice boards across the kingdom, which resulted in a huge uproar by the grieved families.

To this very day, many people lived on the streets because of that unfortunate wreck. Yvonne clenched her fists in her lap as she thought about it, not knowing how to answer Aspen.

"Are you sure you lived in Huwen?" Yvonne asked as she avoided his gaze.

He frowned. "Of course. Why? Is something wrong?"

Yvonne bit the inside of her lip as she thought. 

"Just a kind word of advice," she muttered as she turned to him, her voice low. "Please check up on your family."

"I met them a few years back; they're fine," he said, confused. 

Yvonne shook her head. "Still, check up on them. Please. You never know what might have happened."

Puzzled, Aspen turned away from her and stared at the table, clearly deep in his thoughts already. Yvonne turned her attention back to the Emperor's conversation, not before she had unnoticed that everyone had gone silent and all eyes were on her and Aspen.

"Is something the matter, dear?" the Emperor asked, frowning. He gave aspen an irritated look, which was both brief and furtive. Yvonne pretended she hadn't noticed.

"I'm perfectly well," she replied as she again gave one of her fatally gorgeous smiles. "Mister Yelwynn here was just telling me about his hometown, since he's from Clatoise like myself."

The Emperor arched an eyebrow. "Is that so. Now come, Duke Huxley. Tell me where you hired this advisor of yours."

Yvonne could tell that the Duke was questioning the Emperor's tone. But with a clearing of his throat, he spoke, "Aspen's services were recommended to me by a friend of mine, so I decided to test him out. Surprisingly, he was much better at his job than I expected, especially considering the strange get-up he's accustomed himself to."

Yvonne didn't miss how subtly the Duke had defamed his advisor, but Aspen didn't seem to care; he was much too absorbed in his own thoughts. Yvonne leaned back and sighed. The reception was much more boring than she had expected. She didn't prefer partaking in the discussions of two old men, which seemed similar to the case of all the other mistresses, who either stared into space or played with the accessories on their wrists.

Yvonne looked at Duchess Eliza, who had yet to speak a word. She seemed particularly disinterested in the men's conversation and chose to focus on something else...or someone else, to be exact. 

She was staring at Aspen, with a dreamy, lost look in her eyes. Yvonne looked back and forth from the man beside her to the wife of the duke. Then her eyebrows arched in realization.

Did the duchess have a little crush on her husband's handsome advisor? 

Stifling a laugh, she turned back and stared straight at the duke, who was much too absorbed in a conversation with the Emperor to focus on his wife. His son, on the other hand, was glaring at his mother.

"Mind where you let your eyes wander, mother," Yvonne heard him hiss at her, even though his voice was barely as that of a whisper. His mother- the duchess- turned to him in a swift move, her eyes wide.

"Hush, boy," the Duchess whispered back angrily. "I wasn't in the wrong."

"Is anything the matter, my love?" the duke asked suddenly, facing his voice. It seemed as if their little exchange of whispers had reached the duke's ears, and he seemed interested to get some insight.

"All's well, dearest husband," Duchess Eliza replied, smiling a dimpled smile at the Duke, who stared back with a questionable expression. Yvonne noticed that the Marquess's face was contorted in what seemed to her like pain, and when her eyes trailed down, she noticed that the Duchess held his son's back in a tight pinch. It seemed immensely painful, especially considering the Duchess's long, pointy fingernails. 

"Duchess," Yvonne spoke up suddenly, startling the Duchess so that she released her son from her hold. "Might I commend your dressmakers. They've done a wonderful job at seeking out your elegance."

At once, the Duchess stuck her bust up in the air, her face a picture of amour propre. Yvonne knew she was getting ready to get haughty, and she prepared herself in advance. 

"This dress is a unique piece specially tailored to bring out all of my top points, which naturally makes me the cynosure of all eyes in any assemblage. Though unfortunately, I'll have to throw it away after today. I never wear a dress twice, after all." She laughed and her husband joined in. The Marquess looked embarrassed.

"How unfortunate," Yvonne replied monotonously, unaffected by this woman's boasting. "But lest we forget here, there are people dying all over the world due to insufficient clothing. I'd advise you to give the dress away to someone in need of it rather than throwing it away and letting it rot after a single use."

The Duchess scoffed, her cheeks glowing red. "As someone of utter high prestige, I won't stand the duchy becoming a place where the beggars can crawl to for help. That's absolutely outrageous! I've never heard of this ridiculous idea!"

Yvonne raised a scrutinizing eyebrow. "So you'd much rather waste your wealth rather than make it of use to someone else?"

Marquess Huxley covered his face with his hand while Duchess Eliza didn't hesitate to nod decisively. "Of course. Only the rich must enjoy the privilege that is wealth. Isn't that right, dear?" she said, turning to the Duke. 

He nodded. "Erm, right."

Duchess Eliza turned back to Yvonne and stuck her chin forward. Yvonne sighed. She was going to go in for the final blow.

"Consider something, though," she said, leaning forward, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Won't doing good to the community be in your favor, especially considering the grave circumstances you are in?"

The Duchess was taken aback. "Whatever do you mean?"

Yvonne leaned back, trying to hide her smirk. She was doing it. She was making a mark here. Well, not a necessarily positive one, though, which had been what she had aimed for. But after realizing the guests before her, she had to improvise.

"You know very well, Duchess. You have good knowledge about what I speak of. I'm trying not to give a lot away here, as these people still may not be aware of the truth you all are trying so hard to hide." Yvonne gestured towards the Emperor and the mistresses, who looked on, a cloud of puzzlement hanging over their heads. 

The Duke roared, "How dare you!"

"Calm down, Father," Marquess Huxley stood to settle his father back in his seat as he took to his feet. 

"How dare you blame the duke's family of such crimes!" the Duchess gasped, putting a steady hand on her huge bosom. 

"But I've yet to say anything of offence, dear people," Yvonne spoke innocently, tilting her head. "I've barely even spoken yet. And what are these crimes you speak of when I never even mentioned the word?" Yvonne gave a ridiculing, mock gasp. "Are you actually concealing something?"

Duchess Eliza gritted her teeth as the Duke barely kept still in his seat. Yvonne could feel the storm she had brewed up, but she knew that the duke's family was at her mercy now. One little slip and she'd spill all about the dark rumors in the Lands of Sovia, something not of common knowledge here in Wisteria.

The duke's advisor, Aspen Yelwynn, stared at the cunning mistress in heightened amusement. Gosh, how he was enjoying this battle of words, speech thrown at each other like daggers. 

"Dear, what are you talking about?" the Emperor asked, still muddled.

Yvonne looked to her right at the Duke who looked as if the blood had drained from his face. The Duchess shook her head at her, at which Yvonne almost smirked. God, this was so much fun. 

"Nothing, Your Majesty," Yvonne said sweetly. "I'll tell you some other time." 

The Duke and his wife released the breaths they had been holding in, while their son hung his head low, unable to meet anyone's eyes. 

Eventually, the conversation again wound its way back to the Emperor and he busied himself with talking about him and his empire with the Duke of Notdale. The Duchess didn't speak another word, much like her son.

The advisor to the duke, Aspen, though, did not stay put. 

"Wonderful way to twirl them about your finger, my lady," he said, amused. "Fortunately for you, you are right about them hiding something. It's all messed up, really. The previous Marquess was really close to my heart."

Yvonne raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes," he replied sadly. "He died in suspicious circumstances, naturally leading the people to believe that he was murdered by the only man who had to gain something from his death, the younger brother. Messed up, I say."

Yvonne chuckled. "May I ask more of these suspicious circumstances you speak of, good sir?"

The man raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not now.. Later."