BEFORE doing anything else, Chris had the head steward give him a tour. Although the current crisis made the entire castle seem dark and stagnant, it had a long history. Furthermore, it was practically the same size as the palace where the King resided.
In line with owning such a vast castle, the Clares possessed numerous demesnes. At one point, their assets had even surpassed the national budget. Their wealth was so great that they had lent the King capital for war in the past, and it had expanded even further during Sonia’s grandfather’s time. And then trouble had hit the Clare family.
Chris trailed behind the house steward, casting fascinated glances at any of the furnishings that seemed to hold historical value.
“It’s a shame the paranormal phenomena are laying waste to your beautiful furniture and decorations,” Chris commented, sounding distracted. It didn’t sound much like he mourned their loss.
Though he appeared to find value in armor and swords, he didn’t seem to have much of an eye for art. But perhaps that should have been expected of someone paid to wield a sword. The head steward bore this in mind as he spoke to the man bequeathed the title of Royal Knight. “To be honest, we’ve had a priest come perform exorcisms more than once...”
“And they were all ineffective,” Chris concluded.
“...Well, this curse goes back to Duchess Sonia’s grandfather. I realize it won’t be easy to remove, but if we don’t do something, Duchess Sonia’s life will be in danger...”
“That’s why I’m here. I intend to do my best to help her.”
“Aren’t you afraid? He will come for your life simply because you’re her spouse.”
“On the battlefield, I always have the highest bounty on my head. I’m accustomed to people coming after me regularly,” Chris announced with a radiant grin that stunned the head steward. The way he carried himself without fear of death brought a smile to the man’s lips.
“I see His Majesty has chosen wisely.”
“Actually, I’m personally puzzled by his decision,” Chris remarked.
“Oh? And why is that?”
As if trying to hide his embarrassment, Chris ran his hand through his short hair.
“I declared that I’d ‘never get married,’ and I’ve rejected every marriage proposal up until now. His Majesty is well aware of this, but nevertheless pushed me into this engagement. Although I must admit, I could see where it was going when I learned my fiancée is Duchess Sonia de Clare.”
“I see word of the Clare Curse has spread far and wide...”
“It’s a testament to the Royal Abbey’s impeccable supervision that Her Grace never learned of the curse. The Abbess there is a brilliant woman,” Chris replied.
“Nevertheless, I’m afraid Duchess Sonia will catch word of it before long,” the head steward said with sorrow in his voice.
“I hope that she will learn about it in the least shocking way possible. When she learned I was her fiancé, she took one look at my face and fainted. I’d hate to make the young lady suffer more than she already must,” Chris said with a grim smile, stunning the head steward yet again.
“She doesn’t seem to hold you in disfavor...”
“Oh, how should I put it...? I don’t think she’s the one who hates me,” Chris replied.
“She isn’t...?”
Ignoring the house steward’s look that begged for an explanation, Chris pressed on. “There is quite a bit I, myself, don’t understand. At any rate, the Pope saw in a dream that I am the chosen one. Besides, there is a time-honored practice for knights to save princesses in distress. I guess you could say my chivalric code demands I take action.”
Only growing more confused, the head steward realized that Chris had no intention of offering a detailed explanation at present, so he simply nodded in reply and climbed the stairs.
Then, sensing the knight’s robust presence—physically and metaphorically—weaken, the house steward turned back.
“Oh? Sir Chris?”
He found Chris gazing fixedly at the wall to the small landing just before the stairs. A large, religious painting hung there.
“That was commissioned by Duchess Sonia’s grandfather, the Duke two generations ago. He claimed this scene unfolded before him countless times in his dreams,” the head steward supplied.
“So that’s what it means,” Chris whispered with his shoulders quivering. His stifled laughter grew into a hushed chuckle. “So that’s what it means!” he roared, bursting into a mighty laugh. It should go without saying that his laughter echoed throughout the entire castle.