Luther's Pride Part 5

“No.” Luther answered. “I’ll go out to meet them.” Luther stood from the table, wiped his face with his napkin, and set it down. The meal was mostly finished anyway, and he was eager to leave the table. Some time outside would be excellent. 

“Be careful what you disclose.” Criella warned Luther as she walked behind him. “What you say to one will be overhead by others and known by all within the week.” 

“Thank you, Criella.” Luther said somewhat stiffly. 

Wulfric opened the front door when they reached it, and the morning sunlight burst in. The first gentleman at the top of the queue seemed surprised when it wasn’t Wulfric standing there but Luther himself. 

Luther offered a slight bow, and the other man offered a deeper one.

“May I introduce his lordship, Luther Le Fey.” Criella made the introduction. “Your lordship, this is Easton Holmee, a farmer whose forty acres lie beside your estate. This is their good wife, Norvella; their husband, Dalf; and their children Wilburg, Hilda, Tatum, Sladei, and Alvina.” 

Easton appeared surprised to the point of alarm that Criella not only knew their names but which name was which among their children, which even they did not always accomplish. 

“Lord Cerebrion spoke of them well and often.” Criella explained, which seemed to soothe Easton’s apprehensions at her knowing all of their names. 

“My lordship.” Easton said. “My family and I would like to offer our condolences on the loss of your father. He was a good man, a beneficent lord, and we loved him well.” 

As he spoke, Norvella stepped forward with a bouquet of lilies and offered them to Luther, who took them with a bow of gratitude and passed them along to the waiting Wulfric, who took them away. 

“Thank you.” Luther said. “I hope our relationship will be even closer and more congenial than the one you enjoyed with my father.” 

The family bowed, and Luther stepped forward to greet the next guest. Wulfric and Criella gestured for the family to walk behind, greeting and thanking them as they departed. 

And so the formal pattern continued, with each guest being introduced by Criella or Wulfric with an exchange of pleasantries, an offering of an inexpensive but thoughtful token, and a polite departure. 

Luther tried his best to be as casually formal as possible. There were expectations to meet. He was a lord now, and he had to hold his head high and look the part of a lord like his father had. He had to greet each person politely but with a measure of friendship and appreciability, courting their good manners and doing his best to leave them thinking well of their new lord. 

It worked well until he came to a stiff older man with thick arms, a long red and gray beard, and a veritable crowd of people behind him. All of them were fighting shape, and the staff in the man’s hands wasn’t for walking. It was a fighting staff of considerable craftsmanship, and Luther recognized the runes carved into it as sphereomancy runes for manipulating the weather. A storm mage was not someone he expected to greet in this line, but he did his best to appear welcoming. 

“May I introduce his lordship, Luther Le Fey.” Criella said. Her voice sounded hesitant, as though choosing her words very carefully despite their frequent repetition. “Your lordship, this is Ser Branan Feothe and his spouses, whose names I am afraid I do not know.” 

Branan laughed and gestured broadly to the four women and three men behind him. “These are my wives: Lizabet, Marne, Saehild, and Agathe. And my husbands, Emory, Raoul, and Fesaral. We call him Fess.” 

Each bowed or curtseyed at their name, but none looked happy or pleased to meet him. 

“Ser Branan was an associate of your father’s.” Criella explained. 

“An associate.” Branan scoffed. “I was an employee. Did his scouting and his strong-arming in the mountains to keep the goblins and monsters at bay.” He gave Luther an appraising look. “Where are your spouses? Still abed? They should be receiving us with you.” 

Luther cracked a small smile. “I’m afraid I’ve yet to wed.” 

Branan looked surprised. “A fine young man like you?” He scoffed. “You’ll want to invite us to dinner then I expect.” He smirked. 

“I uh…” Luther hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. 

“I’m afraid my Lord hasn’t had time to prepare a schedule.” Criella interjected. “He only just arrived yesterday in time for the funeral and has not yet had the opportunity to attend to business or pleasure.” 

“Well, you’d best hurry!” Branan patted Luther on the arm and squeezed his arm while he was at it, feeling his muscles. “Or someone will come and challenge you, as is the law!” 

“He has at least three days before any such challenge can be issued.” Criella declared. Her voice shifted in its tone from polite to firm. Adamant. As if she were trying to warn Branan against any rash decisions. 

“Not long at all.” Branan said casually. “Better start a-courting. Or someone might come and take away everything your father left you.” 

“As is the law.” Luther replied with a polite smile. “I’m not worried.” 

“No?” Branan asked, surprised. “I would be!” He scoffed. “What’s your arcana? Your specialty? Your father never said.” He asked it casually, but Criella’s subtle stiffening told Luther the question was far from accidental. 

Luther examined the man before him. Branan was older than Luther by about twenty years if he had to guess. A human of fifty or so, his spouses varied in age and type, from what Luther could tell. Their skills were not as immediately evident as Branan’s, but the collective power of eight spouses was nothing to sneeze at. Yet, they hadn’t challenged his father, had they? 

Luther smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t worry about it.” He scoffed, but Branan recognized the lack of answer as intentional. “I expect if someone were foolish enough to challenge me, they would serve as an example to the others, much like those who challenged my father.” 

Branan’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing in response. He gave a polite bow, and he and his spouses shuffled past as Luther returned the bow. He then stepped forward to greet the next guest. 

Criella was silent through the next few guests, locals from the town who went through the formalities. She watched as Branan and others moved away until they were gone. 

Anyone who had questions for Luther asked the same questions in a cycle. Where was he all this time? Why did he ever leave? What were his plans for the near future? All questions he answered politely without any definite details, much to Criella’s annoyance. By the end of their trail, they’d reached the manor’s gate and walked back to the house in welcomed silence, enjoying the early afternoon. 

“What is your arcana?” Criella asked. “You never said.” 

Luther shrugged. “I never developed one.” He admitted. 

There was silence. 

“What do you mean?” Criella asked. “You’re a lord. You’ve studied magic, haven’t you? If not at the university, then in your travels? You’ve practiced?” 

“Yes.” Luther nodded. “And I’m quite good at it.” 

“But you have no specialty.” Criella stated. “At all?” 

Luther waited while Wulfric opened the front door again. 

“I’ve never shown an aptitude for any of the specialties known.” He explained. 

“Well, that…” Criella hesitated. “...Is unfortunate. Branan is either going to challenge you or marry you.” 

“He’s… not my type.” Luther shook his head. “I’m not sexually attracted to men.” 

Wulfric and Criella were silent momentarily as the group continued walking down the hallway, passing a family portrait of Luther as a child, his father, and his mother. 

“That’s okay.” Criella said after a second. “A little weird, admittedly, but I guess you love who you love.” 

“It’s not unknown.” Wulfric chimed in. “I have some friends who are… heterosexual.” 

Luther shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I just thought I should mention it.” 

“Well, it does narrow your marriage prospects significantly.” Criella pointed out the obvious. “And eliminates Branan, which means he will most likely challenge you.” 

“And without an arcana…” Wulfric started and then caught himself. “My apologies, my lord. It’s not my place.” 

“Without an arcana, I’ve precious little chance of defeating them should they challenge me to a seven-on-one mortal combat that I’d be hard-pressed to win anyway, given their numbers and my lack of marriage partners.” 

“Yes, sir.” Wulfric nodded. “That about sums up everything it would be foolish of me to point out.” 

Luther laughed. 

“Well… You’ve three days for bereavement before anyone can challenge you, starting last night. So I’ll arrange some courtships for you with some eligible partners, given your narrow preferences.”

“You mean women?” Luther asked. 

“Yes, sir.” Criella rolled up her sleeves. “Wulfric, how quickly would you be willing to throw together a dinner party?” 

“We could have one tomorrow evening.” Wulfric assured her. “We could get one tonight, but it would be too little notice for the invitations.” 

“Of course.” Criella agreed. “Tomorrow night then.” 

“Now hold on-” Luther started. 

“I’ll begin preparations.” Wulfric said, ignoring Luther’s protests and quickening his pace to walk away. 

“And we’ll be in the library if you need us.” Criella tugged Luther’s sleeve for him to follow her as she turned away. 

“When did I agree to a dinner party, exactly?” Luther asked anyone who might answer him. 

“You’ll have to get married, and soon. If nothing else, to ward off any challengers to your position.” Criella stated the obvious. 

“But-” Luther started. 

“Sir.” Criella stopped and turned to face Luther, putting her hand on his chest to stop him from walking. “Branan and their spouses will challenge you for your position. They are some of the best magi I’ve ever seen, and they will kill you. If you had an amazing arcana, it’d be one thing. If you had your father’s physical skills-” She paused. “Do you?” 

“Not to his levels.” Luther said. 

“Then that’d be another thing.” Criella continued. “So as it is, you must marry well to someone who can help you defend your title and lands from outlanders and those who might challenge you for your position.” 

Luther sighed. “Well… let’s deal with that later.” He pointed toward the library doors down the hall. “For now, let’s deal with the business at hand.”