Beauty X Beast ~ Twenty!

- Gasteel -

Not for the first time since he’d arrived in this miserable excuse of a town, Gasteel found himself slamming his fist onto the table of the Local Tavern—an uninspired name for an uninspiring establishment. “Abyss take that woman! She should’ve failed and been thrown out by now.”

“Or even succeeded!” Lefroupe added in quickly, nodding along with fervent agreement to everything his liege lord was saying.

“Exactly that!” Gasteel leaned back in his seat, the ancient chair creaking ominously beneath the weight of his imposing frame. He crossed his arms in front of him as he frowned, rippling muscles hypnotically catching the eye of everyone in the room. “How long does it take the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom—handpicked by me—to convince some pathetic old recluse to join the glorious war effort? Wait… you don't think my choosing her will reflect poorly on how the king views my decision-making, do you?”

“Absolutely not!” Lefroupe shook his head, eyes wide as if he had never even considered the thought. “My lord, I've seen her. We've all seen her. You made the right choice. If she fails, it could only be because she has always relied on her looks to get her way. What if the Comte is blind? If she never developed a good personality-”

“That must be it!” Gasteel pretended to wipe sweat from his forehead, and a rueful grin cracked the scowl on his face. “On the plus side, I'm not marrying her for her personality, so that works just fine. Contractually, she'll have to be pleasant. Still, she's wasting my time! At the very least, she should have admitted her failure and came crawling back to my side so I could move along to the next province and continue recruiting! All the towns in half a day's ride are tapped out.” 

“We could just-”

“No, Lefroupe. Even if this whole situation is beneath me, I'm not going to give either of them a chance to slip through my fingers. Until I know the results, we're all but trapped here playing nursemaid for this raving lunatic. Look at him, over there. Living his best life on my generosity, all because I—I, a man of my word—swore to take care of him.” 

Gasteel’s voice dripped with contempt as he gestured dismissively across the room, his eyes focusing past the boisterous patrons, through the thick, musty, ale-and-sweat humid air of the small building. In the far corner was Henri, who by all rights should have been groveling thankfully for the privilege of living another day. 

Instead, the old man was enthusiastically dancing with two younger women while a local bard slammed his fists on a set of drums to keep an intense rhythm going.

“Raving indeed.” The hint of jealousy in Lefroupe’s tone drew Gasteel’s eyes, and despite his annoyance, a hint of amusement was shining in them. “I don't think he's stopped since before I went to bed last night. Makes me wonder how long it’d been since he left his house before we came along?”

“Who cares?” Gasteel’s hollow laugh was devoid of any real humor. “To be fair, were he a younger man, I would consider bringing him into the fold just to infect the rest of Gasteel Company with the same enthusiasm. There’s a man who is truly in love with life at the moment—he reminds me of myself. An old, weak, and pathetic version of myself, but still.”

Tired of looking at the wrinkly face, the Baron shifted his attention. Holding up a hand, he waved a tavern maid over with a dismissive flick. Despite his careless attitude, she smiled at him and walked over with as much swaying of the hips as she could put into each step. Standing closer to him than necessary, she practically begged to take his order. “What will it be, my lord?”

“Give me the usual. A Frontière Flip.” Though he wasn't truly interested in the subpar local options, his cold eyes still lingered on her form as she nodded and hurriedly scurried off, all in hopes of returning to his side as quickly as possible. “I need some positivity in my life, Lefroupe. Tell me something pleasant.” 

“Well, that is, umm… even with all the annoyances and indignities you've suffered in this town, at least they make a drink you like.” The scribe’s words caused Gasteel to furrow his brow, his lips pressed into a thin line before reluctantly dipping his chin in acknowledgment. 

“Be that as it may, we need a win, and we need it soon. Something to get the men riled up, to achieve some significant backing. Something to get us back on top, Lefroupe!” The corner of the Baron's lip twitched up in a snarl, which he quickly hid, smoothing his face into a practiced expression. “If I could just get the Comte under my control, it’ll give me a level of authority I’m unlikely to ever achieve without him. Once I have that, the world will fall into place, just as it should.”

“I thought you had pinned your hopes on social climbing through your fiance?” Lefroupe ventured carefully, tiptoeing around the subject of the Comte. “It's been a decade since LeKrout left his estate, and I don't think a pretty face ‘asking nicely’ will be enough to change that.”

“Oh, my loyal scribe, that’s a foregone conclusion; she will marry me.” Gasteel let out a hearty laugh, as though his loyal sycophant had said something absurdly funny. “The real issue is timing. How do we hurry this tedious process along? I meant for greater things than sitting around waiting for some local girl to come to her senses. I want to be back on the war front sharpening my skills, growing my power. Though it pains me to admit, even now my trigger finger grows itchy, and my sword arm grows weaker by the day. It's been at least a week since I killed a man… I'm losing my edge. I can feel it.”

“Wha~at?” Lefroupe vigorously shook his head in disbelief. “My lord, you could spend a century away, and you would still be unmatched! Look at those muscles! That face, your hair? That velvety voice that tickles the ears of all who have the pleasure of hearing it? You only get better, aging like a fine wine! Every man wants to be like you, and every maiden by your side! Who could possibly resist that face, that physique? It's her privilege to marry you!”

A self-satisfied smirk curled Gasteel’s lips as he enjoyed being showered with praise. As if to underscore Lefroupe’s flattery, the tavern maid came to a stop next to their table at that very moment. In one hand was a quart-sized mug, and the other held a small serving dish. 

She set the mug down with a flourish, the smell of harsh whiskey and aged port drifting up and mingling with the other scents of the establishment. Moving with exaggerated care, doing her best to impress the baron without accidentally spilling on him, she poured in a generous helping of sugary water, then cracked two eggs and released the yolk and egg white into the mixture. Gasteel looked on, face set in an expression of mild approval. 

After stirring the mixture with an elongated spoon, she dropped in a sprig of smoked rosemary. Her task complete, she stepped away from the table and curtsied with a bright smile. “A Frontière Flip, m’lord.”

“That will be all.” Even as Gasteel dismissed her, another maid hurried by and carefully set down a platter with a generous slice of an egg pie. Without acknowledging the effort, he pulled out a spoon and quickly devoured the meal. “You see, Lefroupe? When you're around me, you'll find that even the simplest tasks are completed to create an experience. This is why it's so important to be strong, and for everyone to know it. When no one knew who I was, do you think they did more than slap my meal down on the table and walk away? No. Every benefit I have was earned by soaking my hands in blood. Sometimes, that just takes time.”

“Then…?” Lefroupe tried to discern what he was being told. “Do you not want to hurry the Comte along?”

“No. I do. I'm saying I've already put in my time waiting around, and now I deserve my experiences when I want them. Not when someone else wants to give them to me. Enough of that, for now.” As soon as he’d scraped the last crumb into his mouth, Gasteel lifted his drink and took a long pull. “Ahh… now that hits the spot. Do you want to know the secret to my bulk, Lefroupe? It's my spoon, right here.”

He tapped the flatware against the table. “If you can't eat your food with a spoon, that just means you are going to be wasting time chewing instead of digesting. The key is to bring your muscles all of the energy they need, as fast as possible. More eggs, over-hard this time—just like me! Ha!”

The shout and flexing was met with a round of cheers and applause, exactly what he’d been hoping for. The baron basked in the attention, feeling it warm him even more than the potent drink. To his great annoyance, at that moment, the door of the tavern swept open, allowing in a gust of fresh air that upset the delicate balance of smells in the cramped space. Turning his annoyed glare to the person who’d entered, Gasteel found he recognized the intruder and so held his tongue as the squirrely man rushed over to Lefroupe and handed him a small pamphlet. 

Sketching out a barely acceptable salute, the young man then turned and fled as fast as he could. Lefroupe opened the first page, his eyes flicking back and forth as he read the contents of the missive. The farther he went, the more his eyebrows were raised—yet he didn't make a sound. 

Gasteel cleared his throat rather violently, getting the attention of more than half the room and startling his scribe out of reading. “Well? What is it?”

“If I'm not mistaken…” Lefroupe tapped the page he’d been reading. “This is the answer to the questions we've been asking. It seems the Comte’s situation isn’t as simple as we’d thought. Instead of being a shut-in, as we’d been expecting, it turns out he has a formal agreement with the king of Verdelune not to leave his estate. Not for any reason. Essentially, he's on house arrest. If he steps across the edge of his land or sends his creations out to do his bidding, anyone with the authority to do so may order him to take up arms once more.”

“Why would this need to be a formalized agreement?” Gasteel leaned forward, not for the first time frustrated by how words seemed to dance across the page when he tried to read them. “Tell me what it says, Lefroupe!”

“It's the reason the last war ended,” the scribe stated with a deep sense of reverence. “The Comte up and decided he wanted no part in expanding the kingdom. Out of nowhere, it seems. Without his metal soldiers to maintain occupation of the captured territory, all of the king's horses and all of the king's men were needed to hold the expansion again.”

Gasteel allowed his annoyance to show on his face. “He just didn't want to fight anymore? That makes no sense. At all. Every major reward, all the best funding, everything goes to those who increase their value to the king. There is no better way to do so than expanding his territory!”

“According to this, their Majesties attempted to make him continue, but in an instant, he had tens of thousands of troops at his beck and call. His creations are utterly loyal to him, and that control couldn’t be broken.” Lefroupe likely knew he was playing a dangerous game by not allowing the baron to lead the conversation, but seemed to think the risk was justified in this instance. “Instead of breaking off relations or starting a civil war, the Comte sued for peace. So long as he was left alone, he would work for neither Verdelune nor anyone but himself. In return for being left alone, he was placed under permanent house arrest. On pain of…”

Lefroupe let out a gasp as he read the final line of the document. “He crossed his heart! If he doesn’t fulfill his end of the agreement and return to service if ordered, his heart will be destroyed. He essentially bet his life on being able to live the rest of his life alone in his home.”

“Interesting…” Gasteel’s lips curled into a malicious smile. “Now that… that we can use. Lefroupe. I've had a thought.”

“You have? Do tell, my lord! No one has thoughts like Gasteel!”

“I believe it’s time to officially stage a grand, public spectacle. You know, something to increase the morale of the troops.” The baron’s eyes traveled back to the corner of the tavern, lingering on the old man who was still dancing away—face soaked in sweat and grinning like a fool. Gasteel’s eyes glittered, and his next words were practically dripping with self-satisfaction. “I know. Perhaps a public execution of a known traitor and spy?”

Lefroupe, ever the clever man, immediately picked up on what his lord was truly after. “A delightful idea! I can set the date for the near future, long enough for word to spread a significant distance, and bring in everyone who wants to participate in the display.”

Gasteel closed his eyes and visualized what he wanted, raising a finger in the air and gently swinging it in time to the music as he savored the moment. “Flushing out our prey is a good start, but we can do better. Once the people are distracted by this news, perhaps we can stage an invasion against the unit surrounding the Comte’s estate.”

“A false flag attack?” Lefroupe visibly paled, though he kept a smile plastered on his face. “A war game… I can see the appeal. If the unit gets wiped out, well, they were too weak to be members of Gasteel Company in the first place.”

“Exactly! That's what I love about you, Lefroupe!” Gasteel barked out a laugh and clapped his companion on the shoulder, sending the small man tumbling out of his chair to the ground. “You get me! Now, with this two-pronged approach, we’ll force that Comte into action. As soon as he steps so much as a toe out of line, well… someone in the region has to have been granted the authority to recruit for the kingdom, don't they?”

*Gasp.* Lefroupe’s eyes went comically wide, and his hands covered his mouth in exaggerated shock as he scrambled back to his feet. “My lord… I believe that would be you!”

Gasteel slammed his hand on the table, the sound reverberating through the room as he stood, raising his mug with his off hand in a triumphant gesture. “A toast, to the foolishness of those who think they can outwit a man of my caliber! To the Comte, who will soon be joining our ranks, and to my bride, as she’ll soon be by my side!”

The patrons of the tavern joined in, raising their mugs with a guttural cheer. As more people became involved, Gasteel’s face became flush with victory, and his boasts grew increasingly elaborate. “Soon, we'll be at the head of the finest army this kingdom has ever seen! We'll have so many banners flying that we won't need to stop for shade! The ground will tremble between our feet, and we’ll subjugate all we meet! For the king, for the queen, for Verdelune! Gasteel Company!” 

“Gasteel Company!” came a roar in return.

“Don't rush off now. It's time to celebrate. To victory, Lefroupe! To a future we cut out for ourselves.” Gasteel got to his feet and flicked a gold coin at the bartender. “Drinks are on me today. It's going to be a good month…” 

“…we’ll have an execution, a wedding, and a war!”