The Etiquette of War

Chapter I

Honey ever so sweet; a radiant symbol to what could be. Brazen of its delicate ambre, a treasure if only in hue. Danced and traced on unbridled lips, its beholden in gold to be. Hailed in wonder, the precious flower to bloom. In the sun of sugar, its petals to wither  - if only it to so falters.

House Du’Constantine, a noble household, now lingers in the shadow of its former glory. Founded by Kristoff Du’Constatine, an imperial knight granted ducal status and land for securing a runestone vein south of the Withering Forest.

 In the 80 years since then, the estate’s influence has slowly waned. Tragedy and rumors had been the footfalls of our once pristine reputation. From my understanding, it had begun with my great uncle’s execution; with the blame of treason on his neck. It was only our house’s reputation that spared the rest of our family from ruin. And yet since then, our house was marked as a pariah and each year our fortune dwindled until my father had to make the unfortunate decision to borrow from the capital bank to stay afloat. Whatever our reputation was then became clear that we had to sell it away in debt to survive.

Now with my father’s passing, I can almost feel the striking gaze of greed on our backs. Alois, the only male heir, must take on the reigns as head of our estate. Yet my little brother is only 8 - not even shy of 9. Our immaculate marble walls and abundant garden are only a show to our vulnerable state. I will act as his regent until he can hold his own.

But first I must deal with the wolves.

I sat at my vanity mirror and with practiced hands, I traced a soft peach to subtle lips. Most days, a pinky of blush to my lips wasn’t unusual, but today was an important day. It had been three months since my father’s passing. His funeral was minute and private. In our beloved garden, I laid him to rest next to our mother. Walter and the other staff buried him while I kept my hand resting on Alois’s back. His crying echoed against the rose petals in the wind and his small hands clutched tightly to my skirt.

The passing memory causes me to sigh ever so lightly while I fix the ornate pink rose comb in my hair, neatly pinning a blanket of black curls behind my back. It has been a year since I wore a dress and while not unusual for me, the corset of my Chemise à la Reine was not something I missed. Standing, I make sure the pink bow tied to my waist behind me is neat with the singular pearl in its center to show a subtle bit of regency despite the modesty of the embroidery of my dress.

Today, my uncle will be coming for afternoon tea.

Honor be the sword, pure and true. The visceral strike of the mighty, in tongues nor sooner meek. The scent of roses upon the nose of the idols, to linger in travesty in sinew and deed. Bare in the light no lies to lie dead. The cowardice be damned. The brave unyielding in red.

Uncle Augustus Dubois; a craven of a man. My father’s first cousin, though often addressed as our uncle. Before I called my father cruel, but today I suppose he was also too kind. This man was far from an uncle, often looking for any opportunity of progress even if he had to weasel his way forward.

I knew what he wanted.

Coming down the hall, I see Alois fixing the lapel of his blue and white coat in a hall mirror. I smile, making my presence known as I fix a black curl behind his ear that quickly blossomed with color to the very tip from that action. Surprised, he grabs his ear, and wide hazel eyes look up to me with a pout. “Julie, stop! I’m not a baby anymore. I'm the head of the family.”

My smile never left as I helped him fix his ascott. “Well, excuse me dear sir, you’re still eight.”

“Almost nine!”

“Not even nine.”

Alois catches his words, clearly unsure of what to retort before he looks back into the mirror in defeat. “ . . . I can’t do this Julie. I don’t even know how . . .”

The last of his words left unspoken; he was scared.

My smile does not falter as I steady my hands on both of his shoulders and have a look at him in the same mirror. He’s just a child.

“It’s alright to be scared Alois. We are in this together and together we will stand tall.”

Alois is quiet for a moment. I’m unsure of what he is thinking, but I hope he takes my words to heart. After a moment, he nods, and mumbles as he starts towards the stairs. “Why do we have to meet with stinky old Augustus anyways?”

“Formalities.” I say as I follow him.

“What formalities are there to be?”

I don’t respond. He didn’t understand and for now, I didn’t want to put that burden on his shoulders. Not now and perhaps never if I have a choice. Down the stairs and out into the garden, there was August, already making himself at home by treating himself to hor’dourves among the flowers before we had even arrived.

The weather was mild during this time of year; still Spring though slowly drifting into summer. It was the perfect weather to be outside in the garden. House Du'Constantine was always known for our roses. Our founder made the garden in dedication to his late wife who loved roses. Since then the garden was always maintained for our image. Yet it seemed almost sullied by the porkish man that took in the scenery during our absence.

“Ah, young Alois! Just the man I wanted to see - and - uh- you too Juliet.” He coughed my name but I wished he had choked on it.

Augustus was a tall lanky man with a  large belly, heavy from his alcohol soaked liver. It balanced poorly on his lithe frame. To me, he was shaped like a pea pod and his corset did little to cover it. It gave away his greed and didn't hide his lack of spine. His blond hair was short and curled behind his ears but it only served to insinuate the balding onto of his head. He had a weasily thin mustache that curled a little upwards on the end and green eyes. Perhaps my interpretation of him was biased but I suppose to others - to some extent - he could be considered averagely handsome for someone his age. He was finely dressed in greens and gold that matched his eyes and stood tall with a cane that had a gold handle.

I turned my nose upward, my freckles doing well to hide the scrunch. “It’s good to see you as well uncle.” 

I motioned for Alois to sit as I moved to join him. Augustus soon followed, sitting across from him. 

“Now Alois, you’re not a baby anymore. You can't hide behind your sister anymore. You're the head of the house.” Augustus gave a wryly smile.

“...I'm not hiding.” He said quietly, almost ashamed and sinking into his chair.

“Now, I know it's big shoes to fill-” He continued, ignoring Alois as he gave an almost practiced speech. “- Clearly, you can't handle it and as your uncle, I can't bear to see you struggle. My, with your father's passing-”

“-Uncle.” I interrupt, motioning for Walter to bring the trolley over. “- At least wait until after we've had our tea. It's unbefitting to sour our tastes before a meal.”

The man looked at me with barely concealed aghastment. “Ah, yes, but truly I don't think this can wait-”

“-For you perhaps. You've already eaten.” I stirred the cream in my tea, decidedly not lifting my cup while my relative sat there, unable to get comfortable in his seat. 

“...Well, you don't need to join us Juliet.” He loosened his ascott.

“I prefer to stay.”

“Uncle, won't you try a few more of the desserts? Hilda is trying new recipes. She got some fresh raspberries at the market the other day.”

Alois was always the more diplomatic one. Such a gentle soul he is.

Outnumbered, Augustus yielded to more of the tea cakes on the assorted tray of macarons and finger sandwiches. In the past, our father used to sit with us out in the garden for a picnic. He’d even pretend to fence with me when I was small. This garden holds so many fond memories. It would do little good to let a man like Augustus spoil it. The tea was a rich earl grey that was simmered with just a touch of lavender syrup; another fondness of my father’s. I sat straight, shoulders poised and neck forward; legs cuffed together at the ankles like a lady. Alois tried his best to imitate our father’s once broad seating, but his small frame wasn’t something to compare; it would just be unfair to even try.

There was a long awkward silence that seemed to bleed into the air among us. It was only filled with that of eating and sips of tea, but clearly it was I who held the silence. I liked the way it seemed to make Augustus squirm. When it was clear he couldn’t hold out much longer, I dangled the service bell only for Walter to return within seconds. 

“Alois, I believe Hilda missed a few desserts. I don’t see any of the raspberry creme rolls she mentioned. She’s probably saving them for dinner. Won’t you go with Walter to see if you can persuade her of a few? She’s sweetest to you.”

Our eyes met and whether Alois understood or not mattered little; he was all too happy to leave Augustus’s company in favor of sweets. Obligations be damned. You can’t beat a child's insatiable tastes for desserts.

“A-Alois again, that’s not what’s import-”

“Don’t bother Augustus, he’s already gone.” I took another sip of my tea, watching Walter assuredly usher Alois away.

Augustus sighed exasperatedly. “Honestly Juliet, you’re babying him. If you have such maternal instincts, you should get married.”

An insult I’m sure he meant it to be.

“Augustus. I know why you’re here.”

This time Augustus’s expression shifted from one of annoyance to that of an overconfident snarl.”There’s nothing you can do about it Juliet. You’re just a woman.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was just a woman. My influence on the House and its direction are limited. It is only an obstacle I need to overcome. If there was only one thing I could accomplish, it was protecting Alois from being manipulated and coerced by men like Augustus’s. Clearly, a woman’s touch is needed.

I put my tea down.

“Augustus. Do you want me to be frank with you?” I ate a piece of cake from my dessert fork and placed it horizontally on my plate; handle to the right. Apologies mother for my poor etiquette.

Augustus laughed in my face. “You were always a frank child. But I-”

He stopped speaking when suddenly the sharped edge of my dessert fork was threateningly close to making his eyeball my next pastry. I had moved quickly, a simple flourish of my dress, and the yank of his thin strands to pull his head back. I poised the tea fork close to his eye with my right hand. 

“You should have sat across from me. “ I said simply. “At least then you would have stood a modicum of a chance.”

“J-Juliet!” He grunted. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“The only thing I can do.” Not the only thing, but he didn’t need to know that. “You will not be Alois’s regent.

“And you think you will be?!”

“I’m the only one who can. We don’t have close enough ties to the other families and no other male relative is in a position to take that reign. That’s why it was so easy to tell that’s what you wanted. You knew you could bully a child to give you regency and thus take over the house.”

Augustus raised both his hands up in surrender. He was starting to perspire, his eyes darting to his cane, and sizing me up. Cowardice was the devil’s whisper when you underestimate your opponent.

Clearly, he hadn’t learned that lesson.

“It seems you thought about everything.”

He lunged for his cane on his right, nicking his eye with the tea fork. Grabbing it, he turned to whack it at me but paused as he gave an inhuman wheeze and squeal mixed together. He dropped his cane, legs buckling as he grabbed what was left of his manhood; curling up on the ground.  I already had the tea fork poised for another attack, my position barely moving except now I held it down since my target was now capitulating on the ground. Augustus thought his height meant something, but he only made himself more vulnerable. A quick jab of my fork the moment he stood was enough for me. I poised my tea fork like my rapier and struck true to his arrogance.

“I will make things clear to you Augustus.” I said, dropping my bloodied fork beside him. “You will stop this frivolous endeavor or I will see to it - by the end of my days - I will pluck and pick and stab out every little thing that makes you a man.”

I then turned away to head out of the garden.

“You little wench! You won’t get away with this! Do you have any idea who you’ve attacked?!”

I paused, glancing back over my shoulder at him. “Whatever do you mean? Surely, there’s nothing a lady could have done to a man like you, uncle. If so - why - people would question your unseemly deeds to earn such a strike in such a sensitive place, wouldn’t they?”

I covered my mouth with the back of my hand before I turned away from his capitulation again, holding my skirt, and like a lady, walked away.

Perhaps he was right; I was hasty, but I had no room for pleasantries with a vulture. I will see to it that my goal is accomplished. My most useful means are the very studies I had to leave behind. These skills of the sword, or war, and chivalry, will be everything necessary if I am to re-establish the house of Du’Constantine. I will use the delicacy of my ladyship when it calls for it, but I will not keep my sword bare if someone threatens my household. Considering my father’s disposition upon my return and the flies already swarming, I’m starting to believe this was more than just a coincidence.

Hark dear angel of mind. Bind my soul asunder so that what little of me won’t falter. Dear love to hold it all. Weak and vulnerable upon this altar. Be it judgement, I may have. To unroot these sins that coveted my hand. These tear streaks won’t weaken the blatant arrogance  - that which controls me and man.