Luther's Pride Part 47 (ALT) (Patreon)

Luther sat in the office, with Criella sitting behind the desk and Jo sitting beside him in one of the two armchairs. The solicitor’s office in the estate was smaller than his father’s office, but not by much. Nor was it lightly decorated in dark oak furniture. A pair of rapiers on the wall hung over the fireplace, but otherwise the books, papers, supplies, and leather-bound cases made up the majority of the decorations.

The whole room smelled heavily of paper and lightly of wax. The scratching of Criella’s pen against the papers she had before her was the only sound. She was writing the marriage contract while he and Jowangshin waited. 

Personally, Luther was eager to collaborate on their story, so they knew what to tell the duke and others regarding their union. It seemed he wasn’t the only one.  

“So, our official story is what, exactly?” Criella asked, looking at Luther. “You’re the best liar I know, so please, guide us.” 

“That’s a high compliment coming from a solicitor,” Luther said, chuckling, which earned him a glare from Criella. 

Jowangshin coughed lightly, not from a need to cough but to capture their attention. “I think it best we stick to the truth as much as possible.” 

“An excellent strategy,” Luther agreed. “We’ll keep the story as accurate as possible and shift some of the minute details. You and I married in secret; we hid it from everyone. Jo performed the ceremony, so the easiest lie is that we married after I returned for the funeral, but before I married the others, and we kept it secret from everyone but our wives.” 

“And the reason I didn’t participate in the union ceremonies for the others, which were witnessed by the Feothe’s and multiple others, as is the law, and would be entirely necessary for the union ritual to take effect?” Criella asked, arching her eyebrow in challenge. 

“Okay, fair point,” Luther said, sitting back in the stiff chair. “It was just an initial idea, no need to be mean about it.”  

“You’d have to say it was before Raoul issued his challenge,” Jowangshin said. “But it would have to be after Rhosyn and Eira joined the union.” 

“And we kept it secret because…” Criella looked at Luther again. 

“You were ashamed to admit you loved me?” Luther asked. 

Criella laughed. 

“The same reason you denied that you wanted to marry me for so long: you wished it to be a secret so that it did not hurt my chances at courting others,” Luther said. 

“A weak reason,” Criella said. “Given that we would have to disclose my participation to anyone who wished to join after me.” 

“Then let’s blame Wulfric,” Luther said. 

Criella and Jo both gave him a quizzical look. 

“What?” Luther asked. “It’s not my fault that we decided to marry and our butler forgot to send out the announcements.” 

“And the reason we didn’t come clean and use this to protect Criella in the first place so that she didn’t have to fight the challenge?” Jowangshin asked. 

“Oh, that’s the easiest question of all to answer,” Luther said, confident in his opinion. “Criella waived her period of grief. She wanted to handle the matter personally and kill them herself. You know how Asmodeans are, such bloodthirsty creatures, and as a new bride she was eager to prove her might to her spouses.”

Jo looked shocked on Criella’s behalf, looking between her and Luther as if he must be joking. He wasn’t. 

Criella scowled, but then tilted her head, considering it. “And if the duke doesn’t believe it?” 

“Come now,” Luther said. “I’ve only just met the duke, and even I can tell that he won’t even question it. Others might, but we don’t have to convince everyone, just the duke.” 

Criella chuckled to herself, one quick inhale marking her reaction to Luther’s point. “That’s a valid point.” 

“Criella,” Jo protested. 

“No,” Criella held up her hand. “It’s exactly the kind of thing the duke will believe. Offensive by its very nature? Of course, but we might as well take our advantages where we find them.” 

“Exactly,” Luther said. “What good are prejudices if you can’t use them against your enemies?”

“Not everyone will believe it,” Criella said. “As you said.” 

Luther shrugged. “Then tell them it was my idea. You know how those fey are, so playful; they enjoy their jokes and pranks far too much. Besides, we were ready to join the fight if things turned badly against you.” 

“No, that’s how you are,” Criella corrected him. “Anyone who met your father knows that’s not a common trait among the fey.” 

“Excuse me?” Luther asked, feigning indignation. “I’ve met more fey than you have, you know.” 

Criella pursed her lips. “That is true,” she agreed. “But let’s not trust everyone to be as idiotic as to fall for prejudices. We need some explanation that doesn’t require people to be prejudiced.” 

“Have you met people?” Luther asked. “Almost everyone is merely a compilation of prejudices learned from personal experience and reinforced by anecdotal stories.” 

Jo sighed. “We can tell them that it was a personal wager between the two of you, or an underhanded strategy on Luther’s part to join the fight later if you needed our help.” 

“Fortunately, you were more skilled than you realized, and didn’t need our help in the slightest,” Luther said. “Well, other than the power our union gave you.” 

“I was struck pretty badly with lightning, Luther,” Criella said. “I barely won that fight.” 

“True,” Luther admitted. “But you won it. We should do something to celebrate. Perhaps a feast?” 

“I’d settle for a day off,” Criella said, releasing a heavy sigh as she continued writing the contract. “Alas, my husband has too much need for his solicitor.” 

“My need for you is very great,” Luther said, though he put far more innuendo into his tone than Criella had. She’d sounded more exasperated than lustful. 

“Is that my cue to join the others outside?” Jo asked, adjusting her robes. “Would the two of you prefer to be alone?” 

“No,” Criella said. “I have to finish this contract. If you leave, take Luther with you. He’ll need to attend the pyres.” 

“It’s almost as if you don’t trust yourself to be alone with me,” Luther said, teasing her. 

“I trust you to distract me from completing my work,” Criella said. “Work that I must convince the duke was done days ago. Go, attend the pyres. You can explain my absence is due to my healing.” 

Luther shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m busy.” 

Jo looked at him in surprise. “I know they were your enemies, Luther, but you can show virtue in victory, can’t you? There’s no need to disrespect the dead.” 

“Why should I show them respect after their death if I didn’t respect them while they were alive?” Luther asked. “I’ve no intention of helping any of them ascend. Hell, I’m half tempted to hide some of Lucas’ body somewhere so that he can’t.” 

Jo gasped.  

Criella rolled her eyes. “He’s just trying to get you to storm out so he can seduce me. Don’t listen to a word he says, Jowangshin. He doesn’t mean it.” 

Luther chuckled. 

“Still, it’s a terrible thing to joke about,” Jo said. 

“There’s no use arguing with him,” Criella said, making a flourish with her pen. “But I’ve finished the contract. Do we know a member of the temple who would be willing to sign it as the officiant? Or will you sign it?” 

“I’ll sign it; it’s best not to lie more than we have to,” Jo said. “I know it’s not done, but there’s no temple law against officiating your own union ritual. It’s just considered difficult. Next to impossible, really.” 

“Congratulations, Jo,” Luther said. “You’ve done the impossible. So have you, Criella. It seems that our union is going to be a strong one, full of impossibilities.” 

Jo smiled, taking the compliment as he meant it. It was an impressive feat, and she deserved to take pride in her accomplishment, even if it was tied to a tainted memory. Not that it bothered Luther that they’d done something underhanded and illegal to succeed against the Feothe clan. 

Now, they had to turn their attention toward Duke Beaudivere, his many spouses, and convincing them that they hadn’t done what they’d done. Entering the world of nobles and politics wasn’t Luther’s preference. He’d rather go on the expedition that his father had planned and explore the mountains, but he had responsibilities as the lord of the valley, including his upcoming oath ceremony. 

He closed his eyes, still trying to convince his heart to settle down after Criella’s victory. It had been much closer than he preferred to admit, and if it hadn’t been for the others' grips on him, he might have stormed the field himself and given themselves away. 

“Let’s say the duke does find out,” Luther said, as if musing to himself. “What’s the penalty for breaking this particular law?” 

“It makes the challenge invalid,” Criella said. “And I would be guilty of multiple counts of murder, resulting in my execution. You and the others would be guilty of defrauding the duke, likely resulting in the stripping of your titles at the least.” 

“And at the most?” Luther asked. 

“Well, it’d be extreme, but if the duke could argue his case to the king that you were somehow involved in cheating the Feothes during the challenge, you’d also be convicted as an accomplice to my murders, and executed alongside me,” Criella said. 

“Oh, I like that one. It’s more romantic,” Luther said. “If we’re discovered, I shall tell them I was your accomplice.” 

Criella rolled her eyes. “No. Besides, the whole point of this is not to be discovered. Now, we’ll need the others to sign this. Do you think you can fetch them, Luther? I’d like to discuss something with Jo in private.” 

Luther arched an eyebrow. “Is it about me?” 

“Yes,” Criella said without flinching. “It’s about how annoying you are.” 

Luther laughed and rose from his chair. “Very well, I’ll return shortly with the others.” 

“Best bring them one at a time, or send them without returning,” Criella said. “And here, before you go, sign this.” She turned the marriage contract toward him. 

Luther took a second pen and signed his name to the contract, offering the same pen to Jowangshin, who did the same. He left the two of them alone, closing the door to her office behind him and walking the halls through the business wing of the mansion. The portraits, doors, and windows in the hallway gave him some time to think, with the only sounds being those of his footsteps. 

They had a good plan for what had happened, but almost no plan for moving forward. The oath ceremony at the duke’s castle was going to be Luther’s first appearance in noble society besides the dinner where he’d invited those most likely to marry him. In a way, his dinner guests had been given a preview, but the nobility within the dukedom was a much larger entity to deal with, and he’d be walking in as a half-fey with an Asmodean on his arm. 

He wondered if Criella was the only Asmodean member of the nobility now, and if he was the only Fey. He didn’t expect them to be the only demihumans. That was unlikely given the sheer number of people involved. He wondered if his reporting directly to the duke would be a sign of favor, or disfavor to the other nobles. In normal circumstances, he’d report to a count, which he’d assumed would be the case, but no. Perhaps that would change? 

If the duke had fourteen spouses, he wondered how large the local count’s union was. As a lord, five spouses was likely pushing the limits of what most believed he should be able to support. Indeed, that Criella was a career solicitor meant she had likely lost a major source of her income by marrying him. Did that mean she couldn’t be his solicitor any longer? Would he have to use someone else from her firm? 

Luther didn’t have all the answers, but he produced plenty of questions in his walk from the offices toward the outdoor arena. He stopped at one of the large windows overlooking the arena and surveyed the scene.

The duke and his spouses were still gathered in the stands, talking, drinking, and eating as the servants ferried their plates and glasses. The duke’s mood was dismal, but those closest to him seemed to be holding a conference to alleviate the loss of his favorite servant. Whatever Branan’s relationship with the duke was, it seemed he had to readjust his plans, just as Luther did. 

Other servants were still forming the pyres in the arena, with the bodies lying off to the side in their funeral wrappings. They were nearing completion, but not yet done.  

The storm above had dissipated without Branan to hold it together. The clouds flowed away on the breeze, and the muddy parts of the arena were drying under the sun. He looked around, but did not see his wives. Eira, Rhosyn, and Helena weren’t outside. Neither was Emily, as far as he could tell. That must mean they were in the library, or elsewhere in the mansion. 

“Ah,” Luther said as he approached one of the servants in the main hall. “Have you seen Helena, Eira, or Rhosyn?” 

“I believe Lady Emily is in her room, sir. She went upstairs not too long ago. Lady Helena, Eira, and Rhosyn are in the parlor,” the servant answered. 

“Thank you,” Luther said, nodding and heading directly to the parlor. There, he found the three women sitting across from each other on the sofas. Yet he heard no conversation as he approached; they were sitting in silence, sipping the drinks in their hands. 

“Join us,” Eira said, patting the seat beside her. 

“I’ve actually come to send you to Criella. She’s in her office, waiting for you,” Luther said. 

“You’ve discovered a means of deception, then?” Rhosyn’s voice asked in his mind without her moving her lips. 

“Yes,” Luther answered in kind. “It’s simple really. We’re backdating the marriage contract to after our union, but before the challenge came in. And we’re blaming the deception on Criella’s being a bloodthirsty Asmodean.” 

The women flinched, looking between each other with various expressions of disapproval. Whatever spell Rhosyn had used to connect their minds, each of his wives present had heard him. 

“I know,” Luther said. “But it’s what the duke will believe without question.” 

Helena laughed at that, while Eira and Rhosyn frowned. “Come along, ladies,” Helena said, rising from the sofa. Eira and Rhosyn stood and followed her, heading toward the offices as Luther sat, enjoying the peace and silence as he looked out the window toward the gardens. A peaceful gust of wind swept the grounds, stirring the hedges. 

“Sir?” A servant approached from the hall. “They’re about to light the pyres.” 

“Good,” Luther said, taking a deep breath. His battle with Branan was over, and the only regret he had was that he hadn’t managed to kill the man himself. He’d aided Criella, but it wasn’t the same as wielding the blade himself. Still, Bertilak was avenged. He did wonder if Branan or his spouses had anything to do with his father’s death, but it didn’t matter now. All that remained of his father’s legacy was the expedition he and Criella had planned. Going on it, however, would wait until after he fulfilled his duties. 

He sighed. 

“Sir?” the servant asked. “Would you care to join them in the arena? They’re waiting for you, and the others.” 

Luther chuckled. “Then the Feothes will remain unburned.” 

The man looked stricken. 

“Tell them not to wait for me. I’ve no intention of attending the funeral,” Luther said. 

“Oh, uh, as you wish, sir,” the servant said, bowing before he made his exit. 

Luther stood and poured himself a drink. He raised it, toasting his father, and Bertilak, his father-in-law, and to Criella’s victory. Her might. She might not consider herself a combatant, but her arcanum was damn useful in a fight. He wondered how deadly he might be with it, considering he had far more combat training and experience than she did. He’d have to train in using his arcanum, of course, and in using hers. 

Soon. The training would begin soon. For now, he’d enjoy his victory and his wine. 

“My lord,” A soft, feminine voice reached him from the hallway. “I was wondering if I could speak with you for a minute.” 

He turned to see Emily standing by the entryway. 

“Of course,” Luther said. “But they’re about to light the pyres, if you wish to witness your brother’s ascent.” 

Emily’s smile faded, but she didn’t appear sad. Conflicted, perhaps, but no single emotion won its war for her expression or her spirit. She sighed. “Are you not attending?” 

“I am not,” Luther assured her. 

“Then I shall not,” Emily said, making her decision. “May I sit?” 

“Of course,” Luther said, gesturing to the sofa across from him. “Please, sit, make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to eat or drink?” 

“No, thank you,” Emily said as she took her seat. 

With the pleasantries out of the way, Luther sat and waited for her to speak. When she didn’t, curiosity grew in him until it forced the words from his lips. 

“So, what did you wish to speak with me about?” Luther asked. 

“Well, it’s about the future,” Emily said. “And my mother.”