Je te flatte ma poulette... pour mieux te tuer

[sorrow made you]

@Pearlholy


The clashing of metal blades filled the area. The roars of intimidation and the cries of fear all blended together to create a symphony of war. On the battlefield, a man whirled around, bringing up the blade of his polearm and heaved it down in one heavy blow upon the skull of his enemy. Blood splattered up, covering the face of the dark haired man, but even with the dark red stains upon his cheek, nothing could contrast his searing golden eyes.


The battle had been won by the du Laval family once again. A soft dampened towel was given to the man and he carefully wiped the blood from his face. "Well done, men." He called, not turning behind him. Outside of the lavish tent was his entire surviving army. Dieudonné du Laval, crowned prince of the Lavalis kingdom, turned to face his solders.


"Again we have stricken our enemies with undeniable fear. Those left alive will tell the tale of the demon army. These stories will be ones that scare children into obedience and will immortalize us all." There came an excited roar and fists rose to the air. A sly sinister grin came over the prince's features. "Let our names rest on the tongues of terrified men. Let the babes cry and the women sob. For when the day comes, we'll show them that there will be no need!" Another wave of cheers and roars. "That the Lavalis kingdom brutal and viscous, yet merciful and just...!" The sound from the soldiers felt as if they could move mountains. "The Lavalis kingdom will become an empire for all!" Dieu raised his hand, fingers outstretched to the cloud-covered sun.


The roars and cheers melted into that of an echo.


It was only a few days later that Dieudonné and his army came back to his kingdom. The streets were aligned with waiting families, cheering and clapping, tossing winter flowers at the solders. Occasionally wives would run up to their husbands. Dieu rode on his black warhorse at a slow pace, almost in line with his trusted right hand. "Joyce." He called out to her calmly. "Do you see the fruition of our cause?" Though Dieu didn't have a smile, he has a rather pleasant expression. He looked over his people before glancing back at the woman knight. "Take this in. This..." he motioned around him. "is why we fight."


"However..." His tone grew slightly darker and his head tilted down slightly. "You know the reason why I fight."


Back in the palace, Dieu was summoned to the thrown room to meet with his father. Thinking it was for a praise of good work, he had requested Joyce to come with him. He entered the throne room and whipped his cloak behind him as he knelt before the steps to the throne. "King Jorges du Laval. You have asked for my presence?" His head bowed to his father, who eyed him expectantly. He looked the same at Joyce before finally noting his satisfaction by telling them to rise.


"My second son, Dieudonné." the elder king started, shifting slightly in his throne. He had strong eyes, but they were old and filled with harsh wisdom, unlike Dieu's whose were filled with intensity and mercilessness. "Your achievements are most admirable. Out of the line of Lavalis, you have achieved so much in such a short amount of time."


Dieu had rose from his kneel, but his head was still slightly lowered. A somewhat conceited grin covered his lips. "Your praise is meaningful, father."


"If only your late brother could have achieved as much as you have."


Dieudonné's eyes rose almost unbelieving. "He..." he started but silenced to choose his words carefully. "Ghislain has....passed on, my king?"


The king slowly nodded. "Ghislain has been taken by the Red Death. He passed this morning while you were on your travels back to the kingdom." There was a pause, letting the air in the room thicken. "My first born has passed on to live with the celestial kings. But you, my second son, are alive and well."


"I am as useful as a eunuch, my king. My place is not in a throne room, I am best--"


"In battle, I know. But do not question my judgement. You are a great leader of men. Continue to do so, and you will be more than capable of ruling this kingdom--in time of course. You are not yet wed."


Dieu really really didn't like where this was going. His lips pursed together and he bit his tongue. He already knew where this was leading. Twenty eight years he had escaped the claws of arranged marriage, and now...he was thrown to the sea's storm.


"To ensure good faith with a conjoining kingdom, you will become a tributary prince. During this time, arrangements will be made for your marriage."


There it was. Dark thick plumes of spite and hatred filled Dieudonné to the brim. He clenched his fist, knowing that in his position, there was nothing he could do that would result in a favorable outcome.


"Dieudonné, pack and prepare for your soon departure."


"Father...I request only one thing."


"What is that?"


"I take Joyce with me."

 

[Pearlholy]

'For the empire,' the woman repeated in a trance with an unchanging smile.


Joyce Rutherford’s mind was nowhere close to King or the Prince’s sides. Her consciousness and mind were left on the battlefield. They were calling out to her empty vessel. She belonged to the red sea, they chanted. She needed to come back, they pleaded. The hand of her joints was aching from the shift of temperature and environment. To still the discomfort, the permanent hand on her rapier clutched close and her other hand pressed against her chest.


Tension between the father and son was rising. Dieudonné composed indignation was met with the King’s unyielding political prowess. The King’s words were absolute; the King’s words were godsend. Joyce reclined further in a delayed response as the crowned prince requested his personal guard to remain by his side. Her dark gaze slid and her eyes fell closed as the soldier gave into a low bow.


Every slow and calculated breath taken was triggered by flashing imageries of brutality and gore. It made her sick. It made her happy. It was an addicting and intoxicating range of emotions that she shared with the King’s surviving heir. Were these feelings meant to be expressed alone on the warzone, Joyce wouldn’t know what to do. Dieudonné was the embodiment of her last grip of reality. Now that he was to wed to another, she felt a shift in her thirst for bloodshed. Who did she have to kill to return home? A list of names stamped over her typically predatory thoughts of violence but Lior’s name rang and echoed in her empty head. Lior Redmond, the red beast with no ambitions. Her hands trembled and she packed the last article for the voyage.


Mind-absently, Dieudonné’s escort left her quarters and travelled to the front gates where she was expected. Handing the bag that only carried the necessity for their journey; she looked up, eyes and insolent smile meeting with a guard’s stiff scowl. Her smile tugged upwards at the insolent low-life. She may no longer be a princess but she was still a knight and therefor held a higher status than that mongrel. Hmph. “Horse face scoundrel,” she slowly greeted in a low hollow tone. She inched closer as if she wanted to stab and twist in a dagger between the man’s eye but her stance shifted, turning her heels to walk back to the castle’s interior.


Auto-piloting, her body took her to the prince’s quarters, Joyce knocked once. Disregarding all formalities, she entered Dieudonnné’s room. “Everything is ready… Your Highness. Upon your word, we can depart immediately.”

 

[sorrow made you]

Oh how did the knight prince throw a fit after leaving the throne room. Metalware that servants brought forth for the upcoming meal were thrown across the hall and smashed into walls. A couple draperies were torn down and one of the random jesters he oh-so-hated was stomped on a few times. He could not disobey his father's orders, but he could sure make it a living hell for everyone else around him. After a little bit though, he calmed back down and straightened himself up. Joyce had gone to see that the transportation was in order, but he knew she would be back to his side soon enough. He had felt that thick black hostility seep from her pores after hearing the king's demand. Or maybe Dieudonné was reflecting what he felt on her.


Dieu automatically returned to his chambers to pack his things. He wondered just how many weapons he would be able to bring with him, but common sense said to only bring his most valuable. His lips were sealed tight as he packed his things, even with a servant trying to aid him. He waved the young man off and the other hesitated before stepping back. As soon as Joyce entered, the young man left the room.


The prince's eyes didn't fall on Joyce just yet. He was finishing up tying his bags closed. "Well done, Joyce." He said in an even flatter and more monotone than normal. It may not have been a huge difference to other's ears, but it did relay the negative feelings he had. "You have no qualms in the idea you will be accompanying me?" Slowly he rose to full height and turned to look at Joyce. How many years has it been that she was right there at his side? Such a precious gem, he couldn't let be tarnished by forcing her to fall back into the Lavalis army. As far as he was concerned, she was his right hand.


Slowly Dieu walked over to the woman and stood in front of her. With a frown he looked down at her. A small sigh passed his lips as he raised a hand to place against her cheek. A thumb traced along her cheekbone before his hand dropped slightly to caress her jawline. "My sword will never be replaced. No gaudy decorative piece could ever catch my eye." With that, he dropped his hand, but hesitated there for a moment. "We should be on our way soon before we are considered too fashionably late."

 

[Pearlholy]

As Dieudonné stated on repeated occasions, war was his greatest escape. Instant gratification and search of thrills in abundance were left on the battlefield. At home, he was doomed for humanity and his obsession with Death was robbed from him. Interior damage was the least of the servant’s worries. Truth be told, Joyce imagined far worst when she inspected his room. When caged in four walls, his wrath seemed more tamed… or focused on a victim to target his raw emotions. There could have been a possibility he would have taken his anger out on her. Her suspicions were coming closer to an affirmation as the prince neared her, waiting for him to strike her or grab her. Years in familiarity made her understand that Dieudonné was a living being incapable of gentleness.


Yet, much to her surprise, the royal heir showed a rare act of affection towards his subject. The personal guard wanted to follow his movement but she ended up training her eyes on his. She saw no moment of vulnerability until she found a hint of hesitation on the prince’s part. And it was an honour to see how the other was honest with his servant.


Before his hand could fully drop to his side again, she gently grabbed it and rested it on her cheek, securing it there. Tilting her head just slightly, she leaned against the touch. The knight slowly closed her eyes, as if she wanted to settle onto the warmth of his hand. It was cold. But the temperature did not phase her. “They can wait… just a while longer,” the smiling woman murmured. Within three well-paced inhales and exhales, Joyce had the touch imprinted in her mind. “Ornaments are of no use to you. However, let it be a sword, decorative, or even a shield, my place shall always be with you.” She released his hand and straightened herself to make way towards the door, opening it to him. With a bow, she continued, ”Your carriage awaits.”

 

[sorrow made you]

His actions were indeed very rare. But unlike the empty threats in his past about marriages being arranged for him, he knew this one was very real. He was more than angry at the fact that he would no longer be able to fulfill his indulgences. He was nervous about the idea of losing one of his most prized possessions. Never before had he met someone that seemed to be an extension of himself. Not only as his blade, but she amused his views and ideas. Her opinions were actually valuable to him and her dispositions held worth. No one had achieved such a feat in his lifetime except for her.


He was pleasantly surprised when she returned his affections, retaking his hand to her cheek. He held it there, watching her before their eyes met again. Her smile eased his tension just slightly and again her thumb brushed against her cheek. He kept his hand there till Joyce had her fill and released him. In that moment, he wished to stay there with her longer. To again touch her cheek and pray that all of this was an incredibly sick hoax. But Dieu knew better than to formulate false hopes.


Dieu straightened up again, regaining his cold composure as he walked through the open door. "The journey will be long and through warring states. I cannot guarantee that our emblems will not call attention." With a false purpose he walked briskly out to where the carriage awaited for them. "This means that everyone should be ready and able at any time." He stopped at the carriage and looked it over before waiting for the door to be opened. Once it was, he hoisted himself inside and plopped down on a seat. He had no intention of making the travel a swift one. He knew exactly which paths they would be taking and he knew what kind of people lay before them.


A small sinister smirk played at the corners of his lips once everything was settled and there were sought off. "You know, Joyce." He said after a long time of silence and glancing through the covered windows of the carriage. "Mountain paths are notorious for bandits."

 

[Pearlholy]

Back in his element, the composed warlord left the castle`s perimeters and entered the carriage with his personal guard right behind him. Seated on the opposite bench, the poised soldier stared out the window with her usual unchanging and misplaced smile. Her mind wandered off in the landscape, eyes captivated by every occurring motion. Was it a bird’s landing on its’ nest or was it a deer shuffling through the bushes. Whatever it was, the forceful fascination to what should be familiar landscape was to keep her nerves from grinding at the fear of horses. The grip on her sheathed weapon tightened as the sound of galloping horses drilled into her mind. She utterly despised those vexing creatures.


As always, Dieudonné’s voice became the answer to all of her problems. Her eyes darted back to the prince and her smile stretched further. “Venturers say their camp hideout is northwest out from the mountains.” Shortcuts were subjective but Godsent settled with the idea of arriving fashionably late to the royal party. Throwing tantrums and seeking for immediate thrill was encouraged. It suited the female guard just fine as this might as well be their last journey as a Commander and soldier subordinate. May it be a long one too, the possessive woman prayed. Regardless, his wishes were her command. No one was brave enough to defy the prince’s orders.


Draping her hand over the curtains, Joyce peeped her head out and looked over at the coach and ordered the carriage driver to change their course. Before the man tried to retort, Joyce cheerfully added in a stiff tone, “Your Highness’ order.”

 

[sorrow made you]

A small sinister chuckle left past the man's lips. "Is that so?" He said, his tone becoming increasingly more arrogant. "We can't have weary travelers worry about such things, can we? As Lavalis, it should be our rightful duty to exterminate the vermin that litter the land." His eyes flickered with mischievousness, allowing Joyce to order the change of course.


Of course the driver was hesitant to take the order, but Dieudonné raised his voice. "Is there a problem, driver?" he called, making the man call back that there was none. The carriage started to change course. The prince leaned back in his seat and gave Joyce a smirk. As their course changed, so did the scenery. Instead of a mountain before them, they saw a mountain side. Forest started to thicken and so did Dieu's excitement. Finally he would be able to release some of this excess energy.


They came to the edge of the forest and Dieu told the driver it was far enough. "Joyce, we are going to take a few men and search for this bandit camp." He less than quietly kicked the carriage door open and stepped out first. He didn't wait too long before calling some of the guards to come along with him to wander around the forest. Whether it was there or not didn't matter. He just wanted to waste time.

 

[Pearlholy]

Her eyes absorbed his growing amusement rather than reflecting his excitement for mischief. While Dieudonné concerned himself with a chase, Joyce Rutherford concerned herself with the other nuisances commanded to accompany the prince. Considering the fact the prince was King De Laval’s last heir, the large numbers of posted guards was justifiable. If they truly wanted to reach their destination with the smallest delay, numbers needed to be reduced. She was a capable fighter, Dieudonné even more.


Consequences for disobedience be damned. Punishment for her futures acts jaded her; it was the doom of being separated from the prince that unnerved her.


Since things carried out more as them accompanying Dieudonné on a wild chase, most guards kept a safe distance from the warlord. Repercussions of the prince`s violence were to avoided at all times; the man knew nothing of self-restrain when he was outdoors. It was in the brief moment of separation that Joyce acted on her selfish desires of being with the prince alone. Mercifully, the woman knocked the guards out cold. By the time they would find the bandits and get back to the carriage, the royal guards would have been left far far behind. "Forgive me," the poised solider stated as she let the last unconscious man drop the ground. Now all she had to worry about then would be the coach... which could easily be dealt with once they reached the mountains.


Taking a death breath, she then whistled to the warlord.

 

[sorrow made you]

Dieudonné didn't care what happened to the guards. If they couldn't keep up, then they didn't deserve to go along. If they couldn't old their ground, they didn't deserve to live. His attention went to the forest, not focusing on the finer details. Tracks in the dirt, the absence of animal sounds. He kept going through the forest brush, careful not to make too much sound. If he wanted to greet these bandits, surely he didn't want to invite them to their deaths so bluntly.


Hearing the whistle he paused and replied with his own. There was only one person he communicated through whistles and he knew she wasn't too far away from him now. He held his position, waiting for Joyce to catch up to him. Once she came into view he called out to her. "Have you found anything of interest?" It was oddly quiet around them, but he ignored the thought that his guards might have been gone. They didn't really matter anyway.

 

[Pearlholy]

"Annoying space hoarder," the woman cursed as she swung her rapier to cut the greens and weeds standing in her path. She hissed equally as the sound of a wild snake glided up to her. One thoughtless stab on the head and another arm wave, the cadaver was discarded and tossed against a broken maple tree bark.


"There's a water stream several yards away," the smiling soldier declared. She halted her tracks when she was no more than a few feet away from the prince. If any civilization was build in the wild life, it would be done near a body of water. "The smell of burnt wood came from the same direction." Anything of interest? Not until they found human flesh to tear. Joyce dusted off the fallen tree leaves from her sleeves.

 

[sorrow made you]

A stream always meant life would be near, whether it was man or beast. A wry grin came to the prince's face at the mention of wood burning scent. "Well then I think we have found our little camp." He said and started to match onward. The thought of infiltrating the camp, ransacking and conquering under his banner made his blood run warm. It would be time consuming, but very necessary. His arranged could surely way for that, right?


"Stay close." He commanded Joyce as he continued onward, not slowing for her. Eventually the two came to the edge of a clearing. The stream could be heard and the smell of burning wood floated in between the trees. Dieu let out a satisfied humph and glanced at Joyce, a flicker in his eye, before he started to leave their hiding place along the treeline. He quietly sneaked to hide between some wooden crates and stacks of lumber. He gave a signal for Joyce to cautiously follow suit, then held up two fingers as he glanced over the wood pile. There were two men. They could easily be taken out without alarming anyone. And that seemed like the best idea.


But what fun was that?


(( nb4 waltzes in all cocky-like because Dieudonné OP. ))

 

[Pearlholy]

Joyce's smile grew with every reply. She did giggle softly as the prince gave her an order. When her smile finally broadened to a grin, the personal guard was approaching the fire logs and revealing herself to the two bandits. Her dark gaze never met with their confused stare. Instead, the female soldier scanned the huts and houses, mentally counting the possible inhabitants in the perimeters. Considering the time of the day, some may be out for hunting... or considering the distant shriek of a crying woman, they may have been back from hunting.


Turning around, Rutherford looked back at the warlord. She gave the man a two finger salute and mouthed the estimated numbers of outlaws. Forget the criminals' raising their tone at her, she simply ducked and walked past them. Men were gathering now too.


((TOO OP. 2OP. TOP))

 

[sorrow made you]

He would have chuckled in amusement if his smirk hadn't been so defined. With Joyce's count, Dieu simply snuck to the other side behind the men, tripping one and then stepping hard on his back. He tisked at the man, shaking his head before ducking to dodge the other one. Joyce could handle her own two men easily and he had no concerns on her performance. The prince reached out and snatched the wrist of the man who had attempted to throw a punch at him. He quickly reversed his arm, making him cry out. "So noisy." He hissed and grabbed hold of the man's neck. With one swift movement, he jerked the man's head, snapping it and let his body fall to the ground.


By now, the second man had gotten up and pulled out a dagger. Fear was in his eyes and he started to call out for people to help. Dieu only let out a dark chuckle. "Call them. Let them come." He outstretched his hands, holding no weapon in them. "Let them come!" He snapped at the man, making him scramble away to find others. Dieu rolled his eyes before finding a place to sit and wait. He would waste as much time as possible. Let the strongest come out first. The rest would meet their demise shortly after.

 

[Pearlholy]

There it was, the first vocal tuning to what would proceed an opera song. It was music to her ears. Her distant mind and soul had traveled back, taking shelter in her body again. Dieudonné words were nothing less than orders, as his subordinate, Joyce must obliged. The lithe knight climbed staircase of the furthest hut. She opened the door and pushed herself into the residence. With a quick survey of the place, she oriented herself to the bedroom. Catching the male predator off guard, the woman stepped towards the window. Removing the curtains with a strong tug, Joyce allowed the cloth to cover the female villager's quasi defiled body. "Cover your ears, M'lady." The murmur betrayed the nature of the statement. Instead of killing the filthy and sweating pig, she assisted the man with the swing and threw him out the window. The force of the propel caused him to crash into the balcony's rails. Oh but his fall didn't end there. The prince demanded for more low-lives to kill. Giving the scum a kick in the gut, he fell to the lower grounds.


With the commotion rising, the outlaws cast their previous task aside and gathered around the warlord. Backing closer to the broken window, she glanced over her shoulders to look at the young mademoiselle. "Unharmed, miss?" There were sobs but there was also a nod. Joyce offered her a faint smile to reassure the female villager. "Lend me your strength. If there are others, find them. Worry not, we will protect you." Although barely inaudible, a small statement of gratitude was heard. Dieudonné's personal guard returned to his side.


The head count appeared to be accurate. With everyone's attention focused on the prince, her arrival went by unnoticed. That needed to be fixed. Unsheathing her rapier, Joyce slashed the nearest bandit to her left. The blade slide across the man's torso. A grunt of pain slipped from the lowlife's chapped lips as she glided past him. He curled to the open flesh. "The hostages are being freed," she stated as she stood back-to-back with her master. She made sure the statement was loud enough for them to hear, her half-smile curving upwards. Tilting her head, the petite soldier stared up arrogantly at the outlaws.

 

[sorrow made you]

Dieu didn't have to see where Joyce had gone to know she was going her own tasks. One by one, men started to come at him. He didn't move from his sitting place as he parried by grabbing their wrists, punched and kicked men as they clumsily handled their weapons. He turned a quarter to dodge and readjust his positioning so he could pluck a sword right from one man's hands, then stood to overpower another who seemed to have at least some skill with a long dagger. With an increasing growl, the prince pushed the intimidated dagger wielder back and struck him down.


His blood was running. He could feel the excitement bubble within him. He let out a wicked laugh as he dodged and grabbed a heavier-set man by his ragged hair. He pulled his head back and let sharp eyes fall on the poor soul. "You pathetic insignificant slime." he sneered quietly. "You all will die and return to the world of worms from whence you came. However..." he paused to shove the man down and stab through him. "I must thank you for the lengthy distraction." twist, turn, and then he pulled out the blade.


Soon enough, he felt a back touch his own. He knew exactly who it was and his eye flickered back to glance at her. "Well done. We shall be sure to organize a party to return them home after we finish eliminating the trash." His eyes returned to the outlaws and with a small hiss, he took his next step forward. He knew Joyce would follow suit in the opposite direction. From there, it would only be the finale of a blood bath.


Once the camp was secured, Dieu waited around for his guards to find him and Joyce. He scolded them for their delay and refused to hear their excuses, even if it was about Joyce being the one that knocked them out. He ordered that half of them help the hostages back to their villages and the others were to go with them on their journey to the kingdom meeting place. As much as Dieu hated the idea, they probably couldn't delay any further without consequences. Eventually they were back on their way and would arrive almost half a day later than expected.

 

[Pearlholy]

"As you wish, Your Highness." Ceremonies bored her yet seeing the man's flickering gaze and familiar signature smirk convinced her otherwise. Well... it would only be a party if it meant she had a freak show to watch.


Playing with the last rotting maggot, the petite knight paid heed attention to the gathering people. It was not a pretty sight to the freed hostage but the men in shinning armour and a prince distracted the villagers wonderfully. The dying bandit wiggled under her boot. His shifty eyes never met her dark gaze. Twisting her wrist and loosing her grip on her blade, the smiling woman stared down at her prey's neck, looking at his erratic pulse beating against his skin. Which cartilage would elevate the pain? Which vein should bleed? The tip of her rapier touched the bigger blood vessel. The detailed of the man falling silent or begged mercy slipped her mind. Her smile did stretch, finding a fascination in his pupil. They were black, voiding all colour--which was a shame, she had an attachment to the colour red. The blade of her sword trailed upwards and slowly sunk in the cornea and pupil, penetrating and tearing the lens--making the man permanently blind from an eye. "Just checking out deep Hell is," the woman murmured melodiously as the man tried to squeeze out a cry of agony. Joyce's arm retracted only to make a quick descent, stabbing the dying worm tongue. Her prey coughed and choked in his own blood. Wheezing and gasping for air, the warm liquid traveled to his lungs faster than oxygen. His hands on her boot fell to the side. With a light kick, she moved away from the lifeless pleb. "Not deep enough." Before sheathing her weapon, she pulled out a handkerchief. The immaculate fabric stained red and cleaned the blood off the metal blade. She tossed it over her shoulders and returned to Dieudonné side.


The remainder of their voyage deemed uneventful. With her usual lack of tact and insolent smile, their hosts simply led the prince to his chambers and gave him the space he demanded. It won't be long until a curious and younger princess will come to interrupt the man's peace. Moving her eyes from the door, she looked over at the royal aristocrat, "What am I permitted to do when she displeases you?" At home, she could harm anyone she wanted and no one could ever punish her unless the Prince or the King allowed. However, they were no longer home. And this one staled in comparison to ever have the honours of being called a home.


There was no 'if'. It was certain that Dieudonné's betrothed would displease him. It bothered her more that the range of her freedom was more limited. Seeing the warlord in the presence of another woman, grated her nerves too. With that thought circling her mind, the annoyed knight trailed her gaze to the side, rocking on her feet.

 

[sorrow made you]

Finally at the meeting castle, Dieudonné was led to his chambers to unpack and settle in. With a deep sigh, he threw a bag onto the bed and took a look around. "Gaudy." he hissed with disgust and then glanced back to his trusted knight. He question made a small smirk threaten the corner of his stern lips.


"As reluctant as I am to say, to be fair to the princess, give her a weak warning at first." He turned away, feeling almost dirty for being forced to show mercy to his potential bride. "If she persists, a more stern warning." If meager verbal threats wouldn't scare the girl into submission, then bodily harm most likely would. "But if she is of stronger will and continues to persist..." he continued and took a step to quarter turn, looking directly at his merciless companion. "Her persistence must be broken." Break her. Her body, mind, spirit. Surely by second strike she would get the hint. But if the princess was too stupid to understand, then her consequences would be met with discipline. "Disobedience is not kindly met." His sharp eyes turned to return back to unpacking.


"Tonight I will be meeting the princess at the banquet prepared for us. You are to remain at my side, even if requested a private audience of me." His tone was almost monotone, as if his words were automatic. He picked up an article of clothing and looked it over before tossing it on the bed. "If asked why you disobey orders of the princess' behalf and I cannot speak for you, you will reply that we are one in the same. You are the extension of my right hand and will be treated as such." Another article of clothing was tossed onto the bed. "And there will be no compromising on the matter."


Dieu paused for a moment and looked up at Joyce. "Also, tonight we eat to our heart's content. The food of this kingdom is said to be the most divine. Do not let it go to waste."

 

[Pearlholy]

She couldn’t help but to agree with the prince as he accurately described the room in one word. Joyce inspected the place, using the tip of her sheathed blade to tap on furniture. Tilting her body sideways to examine the table, her gloved fingers traced the edges of the carved wood. The lithe knight made her way towards the window. Lifting the curtains with her rapier, she stared at the gardeners cutting the grass.


Rolling her eyes, the peeved female clicked her tongue. “Best killing the cockroach,” she muttered under her breath. Letting the vermin live longer could only provide entertainment for so long. Her mind listed how she could get the princess to persist as far as getting to the third stage. By then, the real fun would start. How to physically and mentally break a woman should be a child’s game—though Joyce had dealt with more men than women. Oh, this was already getting amusing. With that, her smile broadened.


“Pleasant news. She can occupy her trap with food instead.” Not to say Joyce would mind hearing Dieudonne’s betrothed speak but it often meant having to get along with her and as the prince already knew, Joyce wasn’t particular fond of humanity. Fortunately, the heir gave her permission to defend her presence. Without any restriction too.


Closing by the bed, the female knight stood on the side of the bed and watched the aristocrat unpack. “Don’t wear that tonight.”