Chapter 9: 8: Pleasantry Amidst Pedantry

Isabella sat at a round table with the head ambassador Giovanni, Arthur, Count Faust, the Archduke Felix, and a few other ambassadors and minor nobility. Thus far, it had been a very tense dinner for her. Giovanni, however, didn’t seem to notice. She believed that he thought little was amiss.

Arthur was busy speaking to the lesser ambassadors who could best supply his need for magic supplies. He’d barely spoken with anyone else the entire event. Count Faust had translated whatever he’d heard the envoys say in Ambrosian, and thus far, he hadn’t deviated from what she heard. The Archduke had acted mildly in her favor, but he was clearly not being too aggressively supportive of her.

After this lunch, the negotiations would begin. And the clock was ticking ever nearer.

“Can you tell me what we should expect of King Edgar’s foreign policy?” Giovanni asked her. “An official communication as to his intents toward his neighbors and allies would do much to ease tensions. One king can differ entirely from another, so it would be good to establish a baseline.”

Isabella took a drink of water to delay her answer. “I believe that’s a subject best saved for the negotiations, ambassador.”

“True enough,” Giovanni admitted, but then cast his gaze toward the grandfather clock. “But looking at the time… it’s nearly time to begin. Why don’t we set the tone for negotiations with that matter?”

A servant politely said at her side, “Your Highness.” She turned, and the man bent down to whisper. “The organizer asked for me to inform you that there’s been another change attempted by one of the nobles.”

“Go on,” she told him quietly.

“The Duke of the Isles is at the entrance to the hall,” he said. “He’s on his way to this room imminently. What shall we do?”

Isabella closed her eyes to keep her composure. Did she want to offend yet another duke? As far as she knew, the Duke of the Isles was a wanted criminal within Ambrose. The servants or the guards didn’t have the authority to restrain a duke, and she didn’t want them to be punished on her account. She didn’t have the clout to protect them.

“Allow him passage,” she told the servant. The man nodded and walked away. She focused back on the ambassador.

“Is there some trouble?” Giovanni asked, one hand stroking his large beard.

Count Faust stared at her with a measure of triumph in his features. If she’d known this had been what the man was planning, she would’ve done more to prepare. Perhaps it had been a mistake to write off the Duke of the Isles. A man made a duke by the sheer force of his legacy wasn’t someone that could be easily ignored.

“To answer your question, Ambassador Giovanni…” Isabella began, deciding to rip off the bandage now. “His Majesty currently favors a mandate of change. He doesn’t want to maintain the status quo, even if it means he must dig up things that have long been buried.”

Giovanni, perhaps not expecting such a forthright response, focused on Isabella intently. “Could you elaborate?”

“We understand that there’s much bad blood between the Ambrosians and a member of our high nobility,” Isabella said. “I believe that it’s in the best interest of both our nations to put this problem to bed before it simmers over.”

Giovanni stared at her with a gaze of iron. All of the other ambassadors nearby also came to attention.

“The Duke of the Isles will soon be arriving, and I’d like for him to be a part of the negotiations.”

Giovanni slammed his hand on the table, and the loud rattling of the glassware brought silence to the whole hall. Nearly everyone turned their head to see the noise. Isabella tried to remain steadfast, but she was quite anxious about how this might spiral out of control.

Before either her or Giovanni could say something, the double doors in the back of the hall parted. Duke Valerio walked in with long strides. He wore a frilly white shirt with a deep neckline and black pants, a fairly sizable dagger hanging from his waist. The clothes were form-fitting, but that did little to diminish his presence. No one could ignore his arrival.

Giovanni stood up from the table, the chair creaking loudly. “The princess would have us engage in a civil conversation with a mad beast at her side? A shark that swims at the smell of blood, an inhuman freak?”

“I would have you make peace with Duke Valerio,” she said, also rising to her feet. “The head ambassador shouldn’t mistake a gesture of peace and honesty as anything other than what it is.”

“Call it whatever you will… but is this not an ambush?” Giovanni said, his voice dark.

Duke Valerio called out, “You wouldn’t have to ask that question if this was an ambush.” He walked up to their table, then took an untouched apple from the platter. “Hello, Giovanni,” he said in practiced Ambrosian.

Giovanni stepped away from the table, shouting to his people in Ambrosian, “Convene in my room.” The count was about to translate, but Giovanni reiterated in the common tongue, “We’re going to discuss. Frankly, I think this negotiation may already be over.”

The envoys of the republic all left the room, almost in lockstep with Giovanni. Hateful gazes were cast in the direction of Duke Valerio, who watched all of them without much change in his expression. Next, many eyes went to her and Valerio, who were the only ones standing.

Count Faust leaned into the table, looking up at Isabella. “If you’re curious about his extreme reaction, Your Highness…” he looked at Duke Valerio. “This man killed Giovanni’s son. The boy was the captain of a trading ship. I imagine most of the envoys here today have experienced some tragedy at the hands of our Duke of the Isle’s raids—he is rather notorious in the republic.”

Isabella looked all around. From the expressions of satisfaction and relief, it looked as though the majority of the people here today had spent their hours poisoning the envoys against her, bolstering her connection with the Duke of the Isles. She turned her head to look at him.

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“Come with me,” she said decisively, staring him in the eyes.

***

Isabella quickly secured a room for her and Valerio to speak of things. When the servants had shut the door, she looked at him firmly.

“Why are you here?”

Valerio drew the knife at his waist, and Isabella narrowed her eyes. When he cut a perfect wedge out of the apple he’d taken, her concern evaporated.

“Count Faust invited me,” Valerio said simply, then put the apple slice in his mouth.

“And you’re well-known for attending events,” she said dryly. “It’s not as though you very rarely show your face in public.”

Valerio carved off another wedge of the apple, a smile on his face. “You seemed to explain it quite well, Your Highness. I’m here to put bad blood to rest. Assassination attempts ordered by men like Giovanni have made my sleep schedule somewhat erratic.” He pointed his knife. “If this keeps going on, my people could get hurt.”

Isabella inhaled. She’d said what felt like a natural excuse, but it turned out to be partially truthful.

“You’re here to make peace, then,” Isabella said in revelation. “If you have other intentions… if Count Faust has offered you something…”

“I’m not for sale,” he said, walking closer to her. “And I have no interest in torturing pretty young women who already seem to have enough problems on their plate.”

Isabella didn’t feel compelled to step away. “Then… thank you, I suppose.”

“Thank you?” Valerio raised a brow, expertly cutting another apple slice. “I don’t recall doing anything warranting thanks, Your Highness.”

“Are you going to be a hindrance in negotiations?” she asked. “If you want to make peace with them, then we need to have a tacit understanding.”

“What do you think?” he asked. “Do I seem like a mad beast to you, incapable of reasoning?”

Isabella pursed her lips. Thus far, it was hard to connect the way that Valerio acted to the rumors about him. But these things could hide out of view for hours, days, months before showing themselves. Sometimes, a person only needed to be in the right place at the right time for something fundamental about themselves to rise to the surface. He certainly used that knife well enough… on an apple, granted.

Rather than answer his question, Isabella asked, “Did you kill Giovanni’s son?”

Valerio’s dark eyes watched her for a time, and he didn’t hasten to answer.

“I’ve killed my share. You raise the black flag at sea, it’s inevitable.” He paused for a while, perhaps gauging her reaction. “But I made much of my gold ransoming captives. I wouldn’t kill the son of a prominent patrician family in the Republic of Ambrose.”

Isabella looked into his eyes, searching for any signs of deception. It was somewhat hard for her to believe that this man was the feared pirate lord. He was certainly fearsome-looking, but he spoke well and carried himself with the same poise that she saw in the other nobles all around her.

“If this goes well, you’ll owe me,” she said. “I won’t begrudge you coming here if these people were truly sending assassins after you, but you’ve caused me problems.”

Valerio cut the final slice of the apple off, holding it on the blade of his knife as he said, “Fair enough, Your Highness.”

Isabella reached out and took the final apple slice off his dagger, then put it in her own mouth. He stared at her incredulously for a moment, then shook his head with an amused laugh. He retrieved a cloth from his pocket, cleaned his knife, then put it back at his waist.

Isabella looked at his face again. “This may sound a strange question… but were your eyes always that color?”

Valerio’s reaction was composed, but Isabella couldn’t miss his surprise. She didn’t need for him to answer to know that her question had struck onto something.

“Never mind,” Isabella said, not wanting to pry too deeply. Her curiosity needn’t made things tense in the negotiation to come. She doubted it was overly important, anyhow. “That’s absurd.”

Valerio said nothing more on the subject, gesturing for the door. “Shall we?”

***

When she and Valerio exited the private room, Arthur had been standing near the door. His suspicious eyes glanced between the two of them. She assumed he’d been making sure that no one approached, and that nothing happened as she was talking with the Duke of the Isles. If that was true, he was a surprisingly gracious person.

Arthur looked at her. “The ambassadors wished for me to inform you that they’re willing to receive you whenever you’re ready, Your Highness.”

Isabella nodded, lost in thought. Duke Valerio walked ahead of them, giving them some space to speak privately.

“Are you all right?” Arthur asked her, then looked around. “These people… the things they’re saying…”

“Hmm?” She looked into his eyes and saw some concern. “Ah. Don’t worry yourself. It could always be worse.”

She’d heard plenty of the insults levied today. They’d called her greedy, arrogant, naïve. They’d said she needed to be put in her place. Compared to the court a year from now, these were relatively mild comments. This event could be likened to a stiff winter’s breeze after bathing in ice water.

“More importantly, have you managed to get what you need?” she asked.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Is that more important? You… never mind.” He shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I have, Your Highness. Master Ludovico and I have entered into an arrangement to supply each other with magic goods from our own respective regions.”

“Wonderful. You can leave now if you’d like. I look forward to working with you on my mana lock,” she said.

“If we leave separately…” Arthur trailed off.

She tilted her head. “That’s better for your reputation, isn’t it? You already did me the favor of keeping out of Faust’s schemes. I appreciate that.”

“There might be more I can do here, Your Highness,” Arthur said.

“More trade arrangements? Alright,” Isabella said. “Good luck.”

Isabella passed by Arthur and went to rejoin Duke Valerio, who looked out at the nobles with an indecipherable expression his face.

“How well do you speak Ambrosian?” she asked the Duke of the Isles.

He looked at her. “I lived in the republic for five years, Your Highness.” She stared at him for a little longer until he elaborated, “I speak it quite well.”

“Then you and I will talk to the ambassadors alone, first,” she said. “And since you’ll owe me a favor once this is over, you won’t ask any questions about how I know the things that I do.”

“No questions. Easy enough.” He studied her. “Still, the man just slammed the table and walked out at the sight of me. You honestly want me to be your number two?”

“Of course.” Isabella looked in the direction of the ambassadorial quarters. “It’ll be easier for them to take my threats seriously.”

He scoffed. “Threats?”

Isabella didn’t elaborate, walking forward with confidence.