EDe utterly despised Xialing. The events of the past few days had tormented him to the point of madness, and the moment he stepped into the city, all the unpleasant memories came flooding back. He, the son of Savary, had been so utterly humiliated. But if he hadn't come, he might not have even the slightest chance to salvage the situation. 'I want to burn this whole place to the ground. If what Uncle said is true, then maybe I really can. For now, I have to wait.'
Outside the castle walls lay a wide, deep moat shaped like a figure-8, with the upper loop smaller than the lower one. The earth excavated from the moat had been piled along the inner edges of both loops, forming an earthen rampart.
At the base of the figure-8, a bridge connected to a gap in the rampart. This led into the lower loop and served as the sole entrance.
The upper loop had no path to the outside. The only way in was to cross at the narrowest point of the moat, where the two loops intersected.
Another bridge stood there, providing the only access from the lower loop to the upper one. The upper loop contained the inner bailey.
People bustled to and fro. Two soldiers on fast horses rode out from the castle, crossed the bridge, and galloped off in separate directions. As EDe was entering, a group of four riders hurried past him to cross the bridge first.
He noticed the final section of the bridge was a drawbridge that could be raised into the castle's massive gatehouse.
Stone watchtowers were situated at intervals along the earthen rampart, ensuring that every inch of ground was within range of the defenders' archers.
Taking the castle by frontal assault would be a long and bloody affair, and his Guillaume Family could never muster enough men for the task.
EDe announced his name to the sentry in the gatehouse and was granted entry into the castle without any fuss.
He crossed the courtyard to the bridge at the far end, which led over the moat to the upper loop. Just as he was crossing, a guard from another gatehouse stopped him.
"I am here to see Miss Emma."
The guard didn't recognize him but gave him an appraising look, noting his fine cloak and scarlet tunic. Judging by appearances, the guard took him for a promising suitor.
"You'll find the young miss in the great hall," he said, his face wreathed in smiles.
Upon entering the great hall, he saw it was crowded, though the Count was nowhere to be seen. In the front-left corner, a staircase led up to the Count's private chambers. Fifteen to twenty Knights and soldiers were gathered at the foot of the stairs, talking in low voices—a somewhat unusual sight.
Knights and soldiers belonged to different social classes. Knights owned their own land and lived on the rents, whereas soldiers were paid a daily wage. The two groups only mingled freely when war was in the air.
He turned his head and immediately spotted Emma at the other end of the hall.
She was once again dressed in a simple, belted tunic. Sitting on a long bench, her right foot was bare and wrapped in a bandage. As before, she was holding a book.
"What are you doing here?"
Emma noticed his approach and lowered her book. Her voice was low and steady, like that of someone much older.
"I came to see you," he said, seating himself on the bench without invitation.
"What for?"
She watched him warily.
From where he sat, he had a clear view of the staircase.
He saw a man in his forties descend the stairs into the great hall. Dressed like a senior servant, the man wore a round cap and a tunic of fine linen.
The servant greeted someone, and a Knight and a soldier went up the stairs together.
He turned his gaze back to Emma.
"I want to talk to you."
"About what?"
"About you and me."
His gaze drifted past her shoulder, and he saw the servant approaching.
The man walked with a somewhat effeminate gait.
In one hand, he held a grubby-looking, cone-shaped loaf of brown sugar. In the other, he carried a gnarled piece of what looked like ginger root.
The man was clearly the household steward, fetching expensive seasonings for the day's meal to deliver to the cook—sugar for a sour apple tart, perhaps, and ginger for the lampreys.
"Oh, hello, Matthew."
Emma followed EDe's gaze.
The steward smiled and broke off a piece of the sugar for her.
EDe could tell that Matthew doted on Emma.
"I'm well, thank you."
Matthew noticed EDe, and a look of surprise crossed his face.
"It's young EDe Guillaume, isn't it?"
Being recognized made EDe feel awkward as the events of that day flashed through his mind again. He suddenly wanted to go home.
"Save the sugar for the children."
EDe said this, feigning composure, though Matthew hadn't actually offered him any.
"I don't like sugar."
"Very well, my lord."
Matthew thought addressing him as 'my lord' might placate him.
"The Count brought back some beautiful satin. I'll bring it for you to see later."
He turned to face Emma.
"Thank you," she said.
Matthew walked away.
"Effeminate fool," EDe muttered.
"Why were you so rude to him?"
"I don't permit servants to call me 'young EDe.' I despise it!"
'This wasn't a good way to begin a marriage proposal,' EDe thought, feeling a pang of regret. 'I should have been more charming.'
Forcing a smile, he said, "If you were my wife, my servants would call you 'my lady.'"
"Are you here to talk about marriage?"
"You don't know me," EDe said defensively.
He was losing control of the conversation, he realized with a pang of frustration. He had wanted to ease into it with small talk, but she wasn't giving him the chance, forcing him to be direct.
"I think you've misunderstood me. I don't know what I did to upset you the last time we met, but whatever your reasons, your judgment was too hasty."
EDe glanced behind her. The Knight and the soldier were coming back down the stairs and heading out the main door, looking as if they were on official business.
"What more do you want? Do you intend to challenge me to a formal duel over it?"
"Emma, be reasonable. You have to marry someone. The Count might marry you off to some old man of forty or fifty. Compared to that, am I not a far better—?"
"Perhaps I should tell you about my mother. She hated my father. He isn't a bad man—in fact, he's quite remarkable.
I love him, but I also hate him. He's terribly stern and strict, and he never understood my mother.
She was a free spirit who loved stories, music, and traveling to new places.
But my father made her miserable, right up until the moment she died. And her death was so meaningless, like that of a common peasant woman.
Perhaps my father feels some guilt over it, because he has allowed me to choose my own husband, so that I will not have to marry someone I do not like."
"Marry someone you do not like?"
He repeated her last few words.
"Are you saying you *like* me?"
"You weren't listening."
Emma was starting to grow impatient.
'She'd had enough of this conceited fool.'
"You only think about yourself, not once stopping to consider anyone else.
What did you do the last time you were here? You just talked on and on, all about yourself."
"Keep your voice down," he told her.
"You want to know why I don't like you? Fine, I'll tell you exactly why.
I don't like you because you're ill-mannered!
I don't like you because you're practically illiterate!
I don't like you because you care for nothing but your dogs, your horses, and yourself!"
A wave of laughter echoed through the hall. Clearly, they had heard Emma.
EDe felt his face flush red.
'Who did these people think they were? A pack of mercenaries, daring to laugh at him—the son of Savary Guillaume.'
He shot to his feet.
At that, all the mercenaries and Knights erupted in laughter.
He fled from Xialing City.
His profound humiliation twisted into a ferocious rage, leaving him speechless.
'He would have his revenge on Emma. He would kill all those Knights and mercenaries. No, all the servants here, too.
He would drive his sword through every laughing mouth, straight through to their throats.
He had already thought of a way to get his revenge on at least one of them.
If he succeeded, he would also obtain the evidence he needed.'
The prospect gave him a cruel sense of comfort.