Arc 2: Chapter 11: Shrike
In truth, there wasn’t much for Emma to show me in her “court.” The manor, though old and worn down, was clean and comfortably furnished. It had little in the way of riches. It reminded me of a wealthy home stripped of its possessions to pay off debts.
Given Brenner’s possessive attitude toward the Carreon scion and her heirlooms, I wondered how much of her family’s treasures he’d claimed in return for his protection.
The manor had few other residents. I noticed a dour-looking groundskeeper tending to the trees at the edge of the property, catching sight of him through a second floor window. I noticed no other servants. I met one resident when I nearly stepped on the second of its two long, fluffy red tails, and it rewarded me with a high-pitched yelp before darting off into the depths of the house.
“A hearthhound?” I asked.
Emma’s lips had quirked in amusement at my moment of fright. “That was Valiant. Because he’s our valiant protector, you see?”
“…Right. It’s just, they’re usually bigger.” I paused a beat and added, “and braver.”
Emma shrugged.
Besides that, the manor seemed empty. No guards, no handmaids, no relatives. There were crop fields beyond the manor grounds tended by country folk from nearby villages, and the carriage driver Qoth who kept up the stables. The groundskeeper lived in a small cottage close to one of the hamlets, perhaps half an hours walk away. Vanya and Qoth seemed to be the only other permanent residents of the country manor.
A lonely life. Alone in this coastland, at the mercy of an overbearing lord, without family or wealth, with a dynastic curse shadowing her through her life. I started to understand how Nath had gotten her in with the young Carreon.
“House Hunting doesn’t offer you any men-at-arms?” I asked her, while we stood in the gardens following the brief tour. The sky had grown overcast, and I could smell rain on the cool wind.
Emma pursed her lips, not replying immediately. I couldn’t read her expression. She'd become remote, as she had during the lulls in our conversation during the journey. Her eyes narrowed as they scanned the fields. She paced out onto the grass, rolled her shoulders, then slid her ornate sword from its sheath, letting the ornate scabbard fall to the ground. Then she turned to face me, brandishing the blade.