An Ode to Uncertainty Ch. 17-18

"Is he dead?" she said looking down at the big-bellied merchant who was lying completely still on the floor.

Mirja bent down to check on the man.

"No. Just exhausted."

"Horrible. Horrible man," the princess said shaking her head. "You on the other hand," she said putting her hand out to Aelric who was in the process of getting up from off the floor. "You may come see me at my mansion any time you want," she said with a wide smile.

"I would be honored," Aelric said, took the princess' hand and bowed, kissing it.

The princess nodded and then she was off, still without a thread on her body.

"That was ... interesting," Aelric said shaking his head and looking after the princess. "Is she always like that?"

"Every time that I've met her."

"By the seventh. At least now I know why that bastard prince is such an asshole. Living with that? By the Gods."

Mirja laughed.

"So, you won't be paying her a visit at her mansion then?"

Aelric looked at her with a grin.

"Oh. I will. There is no doubt about that. I'll be filling her quim on a daily basis if I can just fit it into my busy schedule. If not to annoy that bastard prince some more."

Mirja laughed again and fell backwards onto the divan.

***

"Time to go meet your lover," Sigrid said, throwing down the dress Mirja was to wear onto the bed.

Mirja sighed and stood up. It wasn't that she minded getting dressed up. She very much liked it but she couldn't imagine how she would be able to put everything out of her mind and just focus on Leopold for the evening. She had slept all day and Sigrid had woken her up less than a bell earlier.

"You'll do just fine," Sigrid said, taking her hand.

Mirja looked up at the Sister. She was such a strange, and wonderful creature. Was it possible that she was somehow related to that strange being the Master of Animancy kept locked up? And not for the first time Mirja wondered if Sigrid really could read her mind.

The ride through the city was calming for Mirja's nerves. It had been a busy few days and even though she didn't sleep she felt more rested than in a long time when she finally arrived at the gates of Leopold's house. But in all honesty, to call it a house was like calling an ocean a lake. It was essentially a whole quarter within the city itself with proper walls and guards on top of them.

"My dear lady Mirja," Leopold said and took her hand as she stepped out of the carriage.

Mirja looked around and just in time reminded herself not to look up onto the roof of the carriage where Sigrid was lying flat, waiting for the right moment to get off.

The courtyard of the mansion was as big as a small park with thousands of bushes cut into wonderful shapes and figures. Mirja even thought she saw one that was a copy of the statue of the emperor, if only a bit smaller than the original.

"My lord duke Wissgretch. It is an honor," Mirja said curtsying.

The young duke's smile knew no bounds. They headed inside to what turned out to be an excess in marble and gold. There were so many lights in the entrance room they passed through that Mirja had to watch it all through narrowed eyes. They passed through long hallways and finally entered a room that would better be described as a grand ballroom. She could see people standing against the far wall and they were far away enough that she couldn't even see their faces clearly. There was a single small table with two chairs standing in the middle of the vaulted room that looked so out of place it was comical. Around it stood massive candelabra that held hundreds of candles each. As they got closer Mirja could feel the heat emanating from them.

"How many of you live in this house?" Mirja asked.

Leopold glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow.

"You mean the staff?" he said looking slightly confused.

Mirja laughed.

"No, silly. I mean. I assume you have siblings. Or relatives at least that live here also?"

Leopold looked at her in horror.

"By the seventh. No. Absolutely not. This house is not large enough to share with any of my kind. They're truly horrible people," the young duke said with an alarmed look on his face. "Well. That's not entirely true. I have one aunt that I don't hate. But she lives in the far south. As far away as she could from her husband and children, in fact. And I don't blame her," he said shaking his head.

Mirja stared at him trying to absorb what he had just said.

"So, you live here all by your own?"

Leopold looked at her as if she had asked if he always wore clothes in public. Then he nodded.

"Oh," Mirja said looking down at the floor.

"Please. Have a seat," the young duke said pulling out one of the chairs.

"I can't have another bite," Mirja said running her hand over her extended stomach.

The table should have been piled high with empty dishes, but whenever she was almost about to finish one a servant was there to take it away. The table looked as immaculate as when they had first sat down. And without any use of magic at that. A smile curled Leopold's lip.

"What?" Mirja said returning the smile.

"That's quite the appetite you have," the young duke said nodding at her.

Mirja sat up.

"You're the one who kept bringing more stuff!" she complained.

"It is the polite thing to do. You didn't have to eat it all," Leopold laughed.

Mirja felt herself blushing. Good thing this dinner was only for the two of them so that she did not make a fool of herself in front of the entire Eldor nobility.

"I'm sorry. My mother taught me to always eat what was put in front of you. You never know when the next meal will be served.

The young duke seemed to be contemplating this conundrum for a moment then just shook his head.

"Different worlds," Mirja said apologetically.

The duke nodded.

"Tell me something of yours," Mirja said to break the awkwardness.

"Mine?"

"Your world. I know very little of it," Mirja continued. "You never did tell me why you hate the Burdogawi so much."

A shadow descended on Leopold's face at the mention of the rivalling archduchy.

"I'm sorry," Mirja said quickly. "I didn't mean to−"

"It's fine," the young duke cut in. "I want to tell you."

He drew a long breath and let it out slowly. Mirja leaned back trying to make some extra room in her too tight dress. She really shouldn't have eaten that last piece of pie. But it had been so good.

"I don't think anyone really knows how it started. But the first recorded clash between Burdogawa and Schwabenland predates the Empire itself. And to be honest, we would probably still have been at open war if it hadn't been for the First Emperor."

"The one who made peace in the lands and joined the nations together?" Mirja said repeating what she had read in the history books.

Leopold laughed.

"Yes. If you call beating everyone into the ground and forcing them to be friends, or else ... then yes. That's him."

Mirja pressed her lips together. She should have known not to trust the texts literally. Naturally he hadn't made peace without spilling a lot of blood.

"As I said," the young duke continued. "The enmity has always been there, but lately. In the last century or so, the relationship has deteriorated. During the last war against the Fallen the Emperor put Burdogawa and Schwabenland together to fight off the Southern Break forces."

Mirja squinted trying to remember what she knew about the imperial wars. The Fallen was likely what in the books was called the Fallen Kingdoms. The Empire's closest neighbors to the south east. The constantly warring city states that lay beyond the Broken Land. She had no idea what the Southern Break was and reminded herself to look it up next time she was in the Library.

"He shouldn't have done that. With tens of thousands of soldiers out of reach from direct imperial command there were as many skirmishes between the Burdogawi and the Schwabish as there was fighting against the common enemy."

The young duke went silent seeming lost in memories best forgotten.

"Is that when your father was killed?"

Leopold looked up at her, then he nodded.

"Officially he was killed in battle of Scythe Hill against the Southern Break heavy cavalry, the deciding battle where the outlanders were finally pushed back. But it is a badly kept secret that he was killed in his tent while asleep, by a Burdogawi assassin. After the battle where he carried the day."

The young duke clenched his jaw.

"I do not know how many Burdogawi my uncle had killed in their sleep after that, but there is a reason why they say that the Schwabish never lets an argument go unresolved."

He shook his head and then as if by magic his smile returned.

"Enough of me. Tell me something else about your homeland. I've read about the fabled Lights of the North. Is it true that they are greener than any leaf in spring?"

Mirja laughed. Then she nodded.

"It is true."

"And no one knows where they come from?"

Mirja nodded again.

"There are rumors of course. Many rumors. Some say that it is the Seventh that is running her fingers down from the heavens tearing at the weave of reality. Others say it is the Pipers from the Beyond that play and that their tunes show up as colored lights in our world. My own personal favorite is that it is the Weavers that disturbs the weave of reality and it is the complains of the world as they try to reorder the skein of the world."

She sighed. It had been so long since she had seen the lights. Those marvelous lights that could light up the entire sky.

"Truth be told. No one knows. But aren't some things better left unknown?" she said her lip curling up into a smile.

The young duke nodded. Then his smile grew even further.

"Do you dance?"

Mirja thought she knew how to dance. The next bell taught her that she definitely did not. However her misadventures on the ballroom floor only seemed to put the young duke in an even better mood.

"I think that's enough for one evening," Mirja panted after the music had stopped. "Or a lifetime."

Leopold laughed and took her into his arms.

"You did just wonderful," he said and then he kissed her.

Mirja closed her eyes and for a moment she forgot that she didn't belong in his world. As his lips left hers, she longed for more. He looked deep into her eyes.

"What's your family name?" he asked her.

The question stumped her.

"Family name?"

The young duke nodded. She thought about it for a moment. The Kelivese didn't have family names like the Imperials did, and even among the imperials it was only the nobility that really and them. Unless you counted Cobbler or Smith as a family name.

"I guess you can call me Mirja Hedvigsdottir," she said after a little while.

Leopold seemed utterly pleased with this. Then he held her hand in both of his.

"Mirja Hedvigsdottir. Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Imperial Ball."

Mirja's mouth fell open. He looked so naïve. How on the name of the Seventh could he invite her to a ball?

"Please," he added as he saw the hesitation in her face.

Well. What's the worst thing that can happen at an Imperial Ball? I eat all the food and throw up on the emperor? Mirja thought and then she nodded.

"Oh! How wonderful!" the young duke exclaimed hugging her tight.

Then he took a step back to gaze over her.

"You are just the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on."

The compliment made Mirja's heart race a little, but at the thought of being put on display in front of she knew not how many noblemen and women she instantly cooled down.

"Don't you think it will be strange that you bring me ... a courtesan to the Emperor's ball?"

Leopold shook his head.

"All of my peers will be most intrigued by me bringing a student of the arcane to the Emperor's ball," he said with a grin.

"Is that uncommon?" Mirja asked not knowing if she should feel insulted or not.

"Most," he said his smile widening. "In fact. I do not think it has ever been done before. If you do not count the nobility that attends the College. They are of course invited. The nobility are ..." the young duke seemed to be searching for the right word and lit up when he finally found it. "Unsettled around people who work magic. Nothing as intimidating to the powerful to meet someone more powerful than themselves. Especially if that person happens to be poor. Or poorer at least."

Mirja felt a thrill run through her body. Never in her life had she expected to ever attend the Emperor's Ball.

"Well then, how could I possibly decline?"

The smile on the young duke's face nearly split his face in half.