Chapter 6: He dreamed...

Slowly as the crooked letters seeped into the parchment Royal reread the letters piled in two neat stacks on his desk. On custom stationary anointed with carefully painted buttercups, the sight of which gave Royal reason to pause. The iron gripe of a short sword encircled by Ivy was a hauntingly familiar crest to him. Many years had passed since he had last touched the raised red wax.

“Do I really want my name to end with Huxby? Iron Works Huxby? That is a long legacy to break. Should I try once more?”

A short, shy boy of ten years, who never dared to hold his gaze was a faint memory contrasted by the curt, formal words inscribed. The youngest of the Huxby Clan is one of four boys and the last of the six born to Duke Luther Huxby. They were a family who quickly rose up from the merchant class in wealth during the war. In their domain was the largest known weapon smith in two kingdoms that generated, commissioned, and repaired dozens of pieces at a time. Royal’s own short sword was born from the forges of the Huxby Iron Works. The sword remained unsheathed in a leather trunk as sharp as the day it was gifted.

“Do I have the patience to court someone so young?” Royal sighed. “No doubt trouble would follow. He was never one to share his toys.”

Ivory the falcon chirped lightly as she slept on the perch before the window. Royal eyed the orange hued sky and shook his head. He would have to wait until morning to deliver his reply. A letter from the Captain’s Candidate lay unopened just below Huxby’s letter. The hard wax was a perfect mixture of royal blue. “It’s heavier today.” His stomach cramped as he slowly pried the letter open where he found three sheets covered in small, but impeccable, text.

“He dreamed about me?!” And Royal slumped back in his chair covering his already shrouded face with trembling hands. When the fit died down Royal picked up the letter to drink in the tender promises, and curiousities, that ended with sincere hope that they’d soon share a moment face to face.

“If I am not suitable for your hand then I shall face the gallows a proud man knowing I spent my final days fighting for someone; let the vision of you be the hope that redeems my tired soul. Allow me for a moment, to breathe once more the air of freedom and I, in turn, promise to take you as you are.”

Royal placed the fine parchment down on his desk in fear that he might wrinkle the message.

“How is this man real?” He rested his chin in his left hand. “Leave it to a thief to sway me; his words are more sacrine than my own.”

He wanted to believe the sweet nothings. Royal passed a glance over his humble home, then back to the plump falcon asleep in his window. Thaddius Huxby was already enroute and slated to arrive within three days along with his lawyer to negotiate a dowry. Royal glanced up at the hole in his roof he roughly patched up earlier that month. Idly as he pondered his fingers traced the familiar characters of the name he could not read.

The letter drafted was now dry and waited patiently for a seal. It was tossed into the roaring hearth; it burned faster than it dried. Into two identical envelopes Royal sealed his new final message to the candidates and sighed. “Now to deal with this spoiled bird.”

“Oh loverboy!” Pike sang as he walked in to the now unlocked chamber unannounced. Within the simple bedroom was a narrow bed, an endtable and an old wooden stool. The room was just down the hall from Captain Blight’s office and locked from the outside. Pike paused in the doorway as Rakim was knelt before the wooden stool unresponsive.

“Is he praying to chairs now?”

Carefully Pike stalked in and he caught the alien chants murmured softly with steady rhythm.

“Oi.” Rakim whirled around in alarm poised to strike. Pike held his breath as he suddenly stared down the edge of a small knife. “Where are you hiding them?!”

With several deep breaths, Rakim relaxed and turned over his blade. “I don’t like surprise.”

“Lesson learned.” Pike tucked it away to add it to the puzzling collection. “Got a final message from your Lady Fair. For your eyes only.”

Pike sliced through the top of the envelope leaving the wax seal untouched. Rakim peered within finding a small white flower and a neatly pressed clover. “It is like paper,” Rakim remarked as he held the stem in his fingers.

“Genteel, just like her.” The pressed flower was returned to the envelope which was tucked inside his brest pocket. He gave it a reassuring pat.

“That also comes ‘long with a message: I shall meet you midafternoon to deliver my final decision.”

Rakim’s eyes widened. “May I ask something of you?” Pike nodded. “I want to pray at your God house-”

“The church?”

“Y-yes. So that I can have some-sense. My heart is unblessed.”

“Mass has begun but the Priest tends to drag on.”

Rakim offered his wrists for binding and found Pike shaking his head.

“You’re not running away. No one as invested as you would be foolish enough to throw your life away. Stay close to me. It’s a long ways away.”