Elias stripped off his crimson-stained clothes as he reached his private quarters. Tossing his gloves in the bin to be thrown out. Placing his whip on a side table to be cleaned.
Elias walked on the tiled floor to his washroom. Letting the air fill with steam as he ran the hot water before promptly standing under it.
Each water droplet beat down on his skin. The heat seared for a moment before dissipating. Elias’ eyes slowly closed as images of the children flickered through his thoughts.
Imagining their screams as they struggled to break free from the hands of adults who brutalized them. Stripping away any sort of innocence that remains before taking away their lives.
Elias’ blood began to rise as he found the need to stab the pathetic excuse of a man that rested in his dungeon.
To torture, Granderford enough to lose his strength so he could only watch the rats nip at his mangled limbs.
The church recorded the passing of children from sickness in the hundreds. Elias’ felt a chill creep up his back as he imagined every single one of them abused, beaten, and dead.
But their bodies were nowhere to be found.
Teeming with rage, Elias clenched his fist, wanting to string Granderford by his toes so he could bleed out. Then save the cad from the brink of death so Elias could just push him to the edge again.
The horrors the children under Granderford’s care must have been going through. Rearing his clenched fist back, Elias slammed it into the tiled wall. His fingers shot with pain, the tile gave way under the weight of the Grand Duke’s fist.
Shattering to the ground leaving sharp-pointed ceramic pieces scattering on his washroom floor. Dark thoughts filled Elias’ head before a light knock on the door snapped him out of his mind.
“Young Master?” Old Man Benton voiced. “Is everything alright?”
Inhale for three seconds. Exhale for four seconds. The thought whispered in Elias' ear. Taking a moment as he watched drops of the crimson pool at his feet, Elias filled his lungs with air before expelling all of it.
“It’s nothing, Benton,” Elias called out. “Ensure, Laymen Granderford is well taken care of. I won’t have him dying of an infection.” At the drop of his master’s commands. The soft steps of the old steward scuttled off.
The image of Young Lady De Costa came to the forefront of his attention. Elias’ fist throbbed, lit ablaze by his reckless behaviour. A languid smirk flitted across his lips as he pictured the squared shoulders and placid expression of the young maiden. Her angular jaw connected to her lithe neckline.
‘Just another piece to the board.’ Elias thought with a huff pushing the memory away. Marrying the flower of the De Costa household has more benefits than marrying Princess Elenore. It wasn’t a chance he could pass on.
King Richard has been increasingly interested in controlling the Royal succession. Assigning Elias to keep tabs on Head Priest Cunningham and his dealings. Who would soon be the most likely ally Queen Meredith would seek out to support Prince Alexander.
The task of watchdog was well above Elias’ interest but the subtlety of nefarious matters, he slowly discovered ignited his resolve.
King Richard was someone who prided themselves on being fair and open-minded. To take down Priest Cunningham’s influence without exposing the filth that the old Zulla revering scum thrived on.
Elias laughed heartily at the contradiction of Vicon’s 'Benevolent' ruler. As the years passed, the topic of marriage was brought up during Elias' visits to the palace.
The Grand Duke could not help but feel a cold manacle within inches of his neck.
Elias was aware of the reasonable sway he had over Viconian nobility in spite of his reputation as a lustrous rake. His stance was indisputable as he was the grandson of Princess Patricia.
His birthright to the Grand Duchy of Devoncourt ultimately became a target on his back. His influence or rather the influence of house Devoncourt was too much of a variable for King Richard to leave unchecked.
The King’s idea to incapacitate Elias’ influence was none other than to bestow him the title of Prince Consort.
Men who married into the royal family gave up the right to participate in political disputes, deeming their positions as compromised.
A low and animalistic growl rolled out at the thought of King Richard’s need for utter control over him.
But a grin slowly emerged as he imagined King Richard lying awake at night trying to think of ways to shove Princess Elenore into his bed.
Unfortunately for the King, it was a type of scheme that would work only if Elias was willing to participate or shortsighted.
Elias didn’t find the appeal of being a trophy husband and neither did he deem himself shortsighted.
‘I for one, do not prescribe to such a perspective.’ Her voice whispered in his ear.
The Grand Duke growled at the memory’s persistence, shoving it away once more. His fist clenched as blood slowly flowed toward the drain in streams.
Incapacitated through marriage was offensive for the youth who thought too highly of himself.
The idea was enough for Elias to hate Princess Elenore on sight as she batted her eyes or covered her mouth when he approached.
She would laugh at the nonsensical drivel he managed to think of during their interactions. A scoff tore through the incessant clatter of water and marble. Darkness tinted Elias' eyes as the King’s thorough meddling boiled his blood to the point of the absence of sleep.
The King wasn’t benevolent.
He was greedy for history books to postulate his reign as the golden era of Viconian history.
In fact, King Richard was a self-serving and overly controlling man who feigned neutrality. Trapped with a noose fashioned around his collar was the reality Elias faced.
But then it happened.
A miscalculation.
A wondrous gift that the gods presented before him. The reappearance of Duke Gordon caused Marquis De Costa to go into a frantic search to remove his family from the board of succession.
Fairly unfamiliar with Duke Gordon, Elias believed that the steady and calculating Marquis De Costa would have reason to move rashly against a long-forgotten Duke who has not been seen or talked about for nearly a decade.
Marquis De Costa serves his only daughter on a platter for the taking. Leaving Elias reason to believe that unlike the lack of motivation Prince Cesare often wore or the teat-suckling Prince Alexander.
Duke Gordon’s appearance was of concern.
Elias found himself treading closer to the royal conflict than he anticipated. But it was better than resigning himself to be a simple figurehead and watching King Richard take any semblance of influence the Grand Duke possessed by law.
“Master.” Benton’s voice seeped through the cracks. “A missive from King Richard.” Elias’ hand paused briefly before he reached the silver faucet.
“What does it say, Benton?” Elias waited until a hesitant voice called forth.
“The rumours of an intimate relationship with Young Lady De Costa have finally reached the King’s ears. He sends his congratulations hoping to publicly announce the engagement personally.” Benton’s voice was filled with embarrassment.
‘Publicly announce?’ Elias thought as he sneered at the King’s inability to let things lay.
‘Wanting to capitalize on his engagement. But why?’ Elias’ eyes weren’t fooled by the gilded bone the King waved in front of his nose.
For the past months, the King had been pushing a relationship with his granddaughter and now he is readily accepting a relationship between himself and Young Lady De Costa.
Shaking his head, Elias stepped out of the steam-filled washroom. Glancing at the golden leaflet in Benton’s wrinkled hands. Elias' eyes narrowed.
It is evident since the rumours of Elias and Young Lady De Costa’s engagement, that the capital has been turning every rock and pebble to find more information about the young lovers.
It emblazoned the hearts of young men and infuriated the eyes of young maidens. As madams saw the two as a loss but prepared readily to fill the salons on who would be invited to the said marriage ceremony.
The royal succession was well thrown in the back of people’s minds.
It would not be so far-fetched of an idea to see the King using the union of Devoncourt and De Costa to his own advantage. Elias felt a tug at his chains seeing as the King wanted to fill the role of matchmaker instead of standing by as a third party.
A relationship that is granted by the King himself would simply be fuel to the fire. The Grand Duke could not help but acknowledge that although filled with greed, King Richard held a bird’s eye view of all the moving parts.
The King was ruthless enough to use anything to push his own agenda. Grand Duke Devoncourt scoffed at the missive without even a second glance as the last remnants of respect fled and only distaste could be found in his eyes.
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