By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) (3 page)

         “Hello brother,” Mendric said with a
smile just as Andric turned once more to Selric, resting his fists on the huge
oak table now standing between them.  Selric was healthy and quite muscular,
but lacked the Stormweather stature.  He would forever be Mendric’s ‘little’
brother.  Violet had married Andric when she was seventeen, giving birth to
Selric their first year of marriage; twenty-three years ago.  Mendric, now
twenty-eight years, was only eleven years younger than his new mother, but had
been raised well enough to respect her and treat her as his own, especially
since she had raised him since he was five.

         “You never answered your grandfather,
Selric.  Where have you been?” Andric asked his son.

         “I...I was busy,” he said, followed
quickly by, “I had to see some people.”  It had completely slipped his mind to
make an excuse on his walk home.  He was just too happy just to be back in
Andrelia to have actually worried about any repercussions earlier.  Standing
there that moment, he saw his error.

         “You were lassing again, weren’t you?”
his grandfather asked.

         “Grandfather!” Violet whined.  “Such
crudeness.  I would prefer that you didn’t say that about Selric.”

         “I am sorry, Violet, darling.  That boy
just gets my blood boiling.  Here he has a loving mother waiting and worrying. 
And where is he?  He’s out giving those trollops...”

         “Father...” Andric interrupted
uncomfortably, “...we get the idea.”

         “Speaking of girls, Angelique von Yelson
has been asking for you,” said Violet brightly, the hope of her son settling
into a well-bred and deserving marriage shining in her face as she stroked
Selric’s hand.  “She is such a nice girl and from a fine family.  Pretty
and...”

         “Mother,” Selric protested, rolling his
eyes.  “I will pick my own...” he paused, trying to think of the right word,
“...girlfriends.”

         “Well, none the less,” she continued, “we
are having a party to celebrate your return tonight.”  She glanced at her
husband.  “Selric, why don’t you go over and ask Miss von Yelson if she would
like to be your guest this evening?”

         “Mother...” Selric pleaded again, rolling
his eyes, his face distorted in agony.

         “I would love to see her again…and it…it
would make me very happy,” she said, a smile spreading across her face, sculpted
eyebrows raised implicitly.  “And I am sure that she will be equally thrilled. 
You have been friends for so long, and she has asked about you incessantly.  We
have had some wonderful talks about you.”

         “Do what your mother says, boy,” barked
Helmric, followed by labored coughs.

         “Indeed,” Andric agreed sternly.

         “All right, all right,” Selric sighed,
glaring at his grandfather.  He turned again to his mother and forced himself
to smile.  She was a vision at which he could never frown.  “Whatever brightens
your face, my love,” Selric said, causing his mother to blush affectionately.

         “Now,” said Mendric, “may I take the
baby?”  He put his arm around Selric and led him roughly toward his room. 
Selric kissed his mother’s hand as he was led away and he smiled for her once
more.

         “Stop touching your mother like that, or
I’ll beat some manners into you,” said his father none-too-seriously.  The
brothers went to Mendric’s room and closed the door, leaving the elders discussing
party plans of who had been, or had not been, invited and of all the last
minute details.  But Andric and Violet wasted no time in questioning Helmric
about his failing health; again.

         “Just what is wrong with Angelique?”
Mendric started.

         “Not you too?  Nothing.  Nothing at all,”
Selric gasped hopelessly.  Then he paused.  “Well, if you truly wish to know,
now that I think about it...if I had to answer, it would be that she is too
proper.  Yes, too
proper
.  She is very pleasant, but no fun at all.”

         “You mean she will not compromise her morals
for your decadent lust?”

         “No, that’s not it at all,” Selric
insisted.

         “Then what?”

         “It’s just that...I don’t know,” he
sighed.  “She’s a nice girl.  I don’t want a nice girl.”  The brothers fell
silent.  Selric paced about, his hands folded as he repeatedly lifted his arms
in frustration, as if by working his arms and hands all about some cohesive
thoughts could be forced from his throat.  “You know that I despise the
nobility; the gossip; the pomp and the parties; the restrictions.  It might be
all right for you, but I want nothing to do with it.  Angelique stands for
that.  She deserves it.  Not in a bad way,” he hurriedly added, “but a good
one.  She truly deserves nice things.  I like seedy taverns, gambling, throwing
chamber pots out windows onto the heads of snotty priests...”

         “You’re repulsive.”

         “Maybe, but that’s me.  Angelique
deserves better.”  He looked at the ground.  “But I will ask her to the party
tonight.”  He then brightened as he said, “Well, what is new here?  I have been
gone so long…I can hardly believe I am home…”

         “Nothing.  I have to go over to the
Academy to train some Stormweather recruits in swordplay.  You’re a passable
swordsman, or you were two years ago.  You should assist me.  We’ll stop by the
festhall.  Hired some new girls recently...you can help your wicked soul fester
a bit more,” he laughed, eyebrows raised, laying the bait his brother’s amorous
nature could not let lie.  “And even Grandfather can’t complain about you
spending time at our own hall!”

         “I’ve got to see Angelique.”

         “First, we have some lunch.  Then you see
Angelique.  Then, after that, you come over and show me what you learned since
you’ve been away, little brother,” Mendric said, throwing Selric over his
shoulder, and carrying him back into the hearth room, to the worried gasps of
their sensitive mother.

         The von Yelson household was, in many
respects, more impressive than the Stormweather villa.  Decades earlier the
noble villas lay on the outskirts of town, expansive grounds and gardens
surrounding them.  But with the growth of Andrelia’s population, the nobles
walled their estates to preserve their privacy from the growing populace and
built upon the outer lands they had once enjoyed for their solitude, renting
the new buildings on those properties to the common citizens.  The von Yelson
family had maintained more gardens within their walls, keeping fewer guards and
servants and thus needing fewer buildings to house and feed them.  The von
Yelson manor was more beautiful and less military, understandably, than the Stormweathers,
whose main interest was in their two military academies that trained warriors
as bodyguards, caravan escorts, soldiers, etc.  The von Yelson’s, however,
owned great businesses in mining and the selling of the resultant ore and
minerals found within; a very profitable life.  They did not need, nor desire,
a fortified household:  militarism was not in their nature or their history.

         Selric walked across the compound that
contained the manor, servants’ quarters, small stables, and guesthouse, making
his familiar way straight to the main house.  He was admitted by Lorin, the von
Yelson’s head valet, and was asked to wait in the foyer while his presence was
announced.  Very soon Selric was escorted to the parlor where Lady von Yelson,
Angelique’s mother, sat drinking tea.  The room, the entire house in fact, was
decorated as only a delicate member of the aristocracy could overdo, with no
space left empty for the eye to rest from the opulence all about.

         “Selric Stormweather, how nice of you to
visit!  You look well,” the lady said, admiring him top to bottom.  “Yes, very
well indeed.  You are maturing nicely,” she affirmed with definite, almost
improper infatuation.  “As handsome as your father ever was.  Nonetheless, we
are all expecting a party in honor of your return.  Will it run as scheduled?”

         “Oh yes, of course,” Selric replied,
knowing how all the gentry in Andrelia would be awaiting the festivities,
desiring any chance to come together in their finest gala attire.  He strolled
around the room, examining the fixtures as he had done dozens of times before,
and felt Lady von Yelson watching, spying him.

         “Would you like something while you
wait?  Some tea, perhaps?” she asked.  Selric turned to her from where he had
paused across the room, smiling still.

         “No.  Thank you,” he said.  “You look
beautiful today, as always, Lady von Yelson,” Selric added, as if in
afterthought.  He went to her and, bowing, took the lady’s hand and gently
pressed it to his lips.  “You have not aged since last we visited,” he said. 
Selric rose again and walked back to the doorway, then across the room to the
window, pacing.

         “Angelique has not seen you in a long
time,” Lady von Yelson said.  “She may be a while making herself presentable.”

         “She knew that I had come home yesterday,
did she not?”

         “And she’s been expecting you,” Lady von
Yelson urged, “but she did not know exactly when...”  She paused in
frustration.  “Please indulge a lady her right to prepare herself for those she
cares about.”

         “I’ve known her since we were very young,
m’lady.  I know what she looks like.  She need not try to impress...”

         “Hello, Selric,” came Angelique’s
familiar voice, like the chime of a silver bell.  Selric spun to face her and
at the sight, he paused involuntarily.  Selric had forgotten how lovely
Angelique truly was.  He walked across the floor and they embraced, kissing
each other on the cheek.  The air about her wafted of the gentlest, sweetest
perfume, powdery yet not overdone.

         “Seeing you but a moment is worth two
years’ wait,” Selric said mildly in awe, though trying to hide it.  He held
Angelique from him and looked at her, admiring how soft she was in his hands,
and in his eyes.

         “You are too kind,” she responded,
blushing.

         “I came to ask if you would like to be my
guest...that is, if I may escort you to my homecoming party this evening?”  He
smiled his smile.

         “Oh yes, I would love that Selric,”
Angelique said, her face flushed with undiluted and inescapable admiration.

         “Well then, until tonight Angelique,
where you will, I am certain, be the brightest star that shines.  Good-bye,
Lady von Yelson.  Someone will come by this afternoon to provide all the
required information.”

         “Oh, Selric, please say you do not have
to depart yet,” Angelique said, her eyes soft and genuinely hurt, taking a
hesitant, improper step after him as he walked away.  Selric turned, sighed
silently and smiled.

         “I
do
need to meet Mendric, but he
did remind me how wonderful you are.”

         “He did?  How sweet of him,” Angelique
purred.

         “So I think he will understand if I keep
him waiting,” Selric said, offering Angelique his arm.  “A walk in the garden,
my dear?” he asked.  He bowed slightly to the lady and said, “By your
leave...”  Lady von Yelson smiled and nodded her permission for Selric to be
alone with her delicate young daughter.

         “I missed you Selric,” Angelique said as
she sat next to him on the garden bench holding onto his hand, her own grasp
trembling ever so slightly.  “Two years is a very long time.”  They had walked
for many minutes around the flower filled expanse—the breeze there cooled by
the greenery all about—talking very little and just enjoying the touch of the
other, before finally sitting down.

         “Yes it is,” Selric agreed almost sadly.

         “You either forget someone or realize how
much you care for them.”

         “Have you forgotten me?” he asked,
bringing a cherry blush to Angelique’s face.  “Well?” he pressed when she did
not answer.

         “I will never forget you,” she said,
looking into his penetrating stare only briefly before casting her eyes down.

         “When I was gone, I thought that you were
beautiful.  But it seems that that was but the limitation of my memory, for now
I see that you are beyond simple beauty, rivaling instead the terms godlike,
divine, and perfection.”

         “Stop…” said Angelique softly, wanting to
laugh away her discomfort, but too flattered to utter even a giggle.

         “I will,” he said, “but it is all true. 
You are exquisite, Angelique von Yelson.”  Then she did look at him,
unabashedly, and saw the honesty in his face.  She closed her eyes and waited,
but a kiss never came.  “I need to talk to you, Angelique, but it will have to
wait until tonight,” Selric said seriously with a gentle kiss for her hand
instead.  “Until then,” he said, leaving Angelique sitting alone amongst the
lovely flowers, a slightly confused look upon her face.

         Angelique’s image still burning in his
mind, Selric walked down from the noble heights and toward the docks.  Three
blocks from the very waterfront stood the immense training hall,
Master
Sellore’s House of Arms
.  Master Sellore’s was a posh, expensive gymnasium
of sorts, where those with enough money could learn weapon and combat skills
from experts, some of the best warriors in the land. 
Master Sellore’s
was one of the places where the influential liked to be seen.  To be tutored at
Sellore’s was a necessity for every young nobleman, though after a month or so,
many would usually fall off in their lessons, simply using, instead, the
House’s other facilities.