Knights Apocalyptica

“You never get your collar right,” Garin said and once more fixed Erec's ruffled collar. Below, the guests were already filtering into his manor. The temporary serving staff was probably rolling out the hors d'oeuvre's, and the band would be starting their set by now.

Catering, decoration, and sufficient entertainment. That's what made for a successful event. Each of them would be judged, especially for him as a new Count.

Potential allies would look at his event—and gossip. So, there wasn't room to spare expense, and they'd bitten the bullet and thrown far too much of their already dwindling treasury to Lionel's professional discretion. All that money. As good as wasted, but Erec couldn't do a thing about it.

This entire event was frustrating, and his damn suit was too tight.

Erec tugged at his collar again the moment Garin turned away, only for Munchy to run up his leg and nip at his fingers to stop him. The chubby squirrel defended the collar as if his life depended on it.

Erec gave up the fight and shot the creature a dark scowl.

Garin turned around and shook his head at Erec; before tossing a treat on the ground for his fat familiar.

"I dislike him now more than ever," Erec said as Munchy feasted on a carrot below.

"Aw, c'mon. He's got a good heart," Garin leaned down and ran a couple of fingers over the feasting fatty. "Getting a lot friendlier with other people too."

Yeah, that was bound to happen since Garin now let the menace run free—the only one who hadn't seen it yet was Colin, who'd barricaded himself in his room to avoid his betrothed and her frequent visits to their dorm.

"I'm nervous." Erec confided, knowing his frustration didn't actually belong to the squirrel and its new freedom.

"It'll be fine," Garin said. "As long as you go down there and talk to people. We're cutting it close to being a bit past the fashionably late and more towards the rude late…"

"Bedwyr and dad are already doing that."

"Well, they aren't in your house now. Even if they're related, only you are, and that's a big difference as far as most people are concerned. Enough is enough. Ready? C'mon Erec, pull off the part of prince charming, or if you can't manage that, Count Smiles, and you'll be off to a good start."

Always the same thing. Play perfect and look good, and nothing awful would happen.

This sucks.

Garin made his way to the door, and Erec took in himself in the mirror, the shadows under his eyes and his scowl already on his face. That wouldn't do. Erec put on a fake smile—which somehow looked worse—before forcing his face as calm as he could manage.

That would be fine enough.

They made their way through the barren residency hall. Most unused parts of the manor, or Erec’s personal areas, were similarly empty. For a simple reason. Erec sold most of it off.

Everything that Lionel would let him, anyway. Decorations near the frequently traveled guest spaces weren't touched. The last thing they wanted to do was to present themselves as struggling. The irony of Erec’s home becoming more similar to Oswald’s wasn’t lost on him.

He’d rather the money go to practical things and wished he could’ve sold off the entire manor if he could’ve. Goddess knows he didn’t need such a big place.

Nearing the feast brought the dreaded sound of lively music and cheerful conversation to Erec’s ears.

It was a battlefield. A social warzone that shook Erec to his core and made him want to turn around and hide in his room. Garin grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into the war.

Tables were meticulously spaced around the room to leave a central space in the middle for a constructed stage that would host the night's three acts. First up was a local band to Cavern Seven—who commonly played the local tavern. But tonight, they’d donned borrowed fine clothes. Their singer strummed a guitar while belting a tune from the old world.

As was tradition to courtly celebrations, one should always begin the night with a nod to the past.

Small details like that proved Lionel's worth ten times over. Decorations—seating arrangements. A million annoying decisions that man took out of Erec’s incompetent hands.

Nobles flocked around the room in their little groups. Some of them potential allies, some potential enemies. Erec invited most of them based on the Baron’s advice. Garin would make sure they’d cycle through the nobles most likely to back Erec and try to make a good introduction.

Then there were the merchants. They’d lumped together in a corner with Oswald, drinking with abandon and loudly joking. Oswald was in the center, making an ass of himself with the other more powerful ones. Erec had memorized their faces—they’d done their research on the enemy. By the end of tonight, he’d sway them to his side and turn their grasp on his cavern into a partnership to keep them in check.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but it was the most mature decision he could make. Even if part of him demanded he goes over there and beat them into submission for daring to fleece his people—he couldn’t.

Now wasn’t the time to start that conversation.

First came the nobles. After that, he’d invite the merchants to an after-party discussion.

Be polite. Make promises; that’s what it took to establish peace.

Garin dragged him headfirst into the ‘fun’ that was a cast of nobles.

Soon into their rotation, a familiar face interrupted the politicking.

Colin’s father, the Unbroken General raised a glass to Garin and Erec. As a Duke… They had no choice but to excuse themselves from their current conversation and make their way to the man. There’d been an open invitation to all of the highest nobility—but no one should've shown up from a Duchy, aside from maybe Colin. But Colin was a personal friend and not the reigning Duke. Certainly not a war hero.

The duke looked much the same as when Erec’d last seen him. He was a stout man, but now he sported a short trimmed mustache and beard, silver like the streaks in his hair.

Garin and Erec bowed respectfully once they reached him, and the Unbroken General nodded to set them at ease. “You’ve done well for yourself, Count Audax.”

“It’s my pleasure to see you in attendance tonight, Duke Nitidus.” Erec bowed his head with the canned and practiced greeting drilled into him, though he felt nothing but.

He’d sworn an oath to this man to befriend his son and spy on him. Initially, he’d thought the first task to be impossible, but the spoiled brat of a Duke’s spawn grew on Erec. Now, he found that he dreaded the day he’d be asked to uphold the second part of that oath.

Was today that day?

“Duke Nitidus!” Garin cut in, seeing the conversation quickly lapse into a tense silence. He bumped Erec’s shoulder, a hint to pick up the mood. “I’m not sure if Colin has said anything about me—but I share a dorm with him—I have to say, I’m quite impressed with the son you raised. His confidence is a stunning thing to behold.”

The Duke snorted. “They say that a crown weighs heavy upon the head, but I often find it’s not the crown which weighs the most, by those who say that, but the head itself.” His eyes snapped to Garin, digging deep. “I appreciate the attempted compliment and do note it in your favor. However, for this conversation, you are dismissed.” With that, he waved Garin away.

Erec’s jaw dropped a little—as did his friend’s.

But Garin covered fast with a fake smile. He turned to Erec. “I’ll grab you again once you’re done speaking to the Duke. Then we can keep on going. Take it easy, alright? It’s a party.” He squeezed Erec's shoulder before giving a bow and leaving.

That old familiar anger stirred in Erec as he forced his attention back to Duke. How dare he?

When he focused on the man, though, there wasn’t the haughty expression he expected to see. Instead of a scheming general, an aged man was in front of him, whose eyes were sunken and tired. “You’ve made a name for yourself in quite a few circles. I’ll admit that when we made our deal, I expected to make you a retainer for my son, yet that is not what fate had in mind.”

“You wanted me to be your piece on the board,” Erec pointed out, giving up on tact. Something about this man struck him with the desire to lay it out bare.

Duke Nitidus’ nod was all he needed to know he was right. “You’d have made a fine enough piece in my plans, but someone else shared the same thought and plucked you from my games and made of you their own piece.” His eyes swept over the ballroom. “The court is a stage, Erec. You must play your part on it until you understand enough of what is happening to improvise.”

“You showing up here is a signal of your support. A way of marking me as an ally. Your actions don’t match your words, General.”

“You’ve befriended my son as sworn, correct?”

“Yes—I did. He’s a brat, but his heart is in the right place.”

“There’s your answer to why I showed, at least in part. You will be useful to my son if you are not to me. But that isn’t the whole reason. I’m here to mitigate damage and to make a demand.”

That set Erec on his heels. His eyes went wide. Was this it—where he asked his spy to start revealing information? Erec’s insides turned, and he felt sick, fear thick in his mind. If the Duke pressed him, that oath he made on the Goddess's name would compel him to fess up whatever he wanted about Colin.

“My demands aren’t for you,” The Duke clarified, shifting his attention to Boldwick; the Master Knight had just made a grand entrance. Party-goers already swarmed him. With how put-out the Master Knight was, he didn’t make it much of a habit to attend courtly affairs. “That’s the man I’ve come to see. When things begin to happen, run to your Master Knight for safety, there is your warning, young Count.” With that ominous message, the Duke left Erec standing there alone.

He watched him cut a path through the crowd right towards Boldwick. Erec’s heart hammered in his chest as he watched the Duke leave.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean.

“Erec!” Garin shook him from the side, “C’mon, let's get going—Dame Aurelia wants you to meet her daughter—“ with that, Garin pulled him after him.

Paranoia crept in as he followed. Think on it that he might, Erec found no answer to what the Duke meant.

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