Marriage.
The word hung in the air of Kaelen's spartan study, heavier than any stone in the castle walls.
In his past life, marriage had been a distant, abstract concept—a merger of personal assets he'd never had the time or inclination to pursue.
Now, it was being presented to him as a political tool. A contract to be signed in flesh and blood.
Asset acquisition via matrimonial contract.
Liabilities: one wife, increased household expenses, potential for interpersonal conflict.
Assets: a trade agreement, a political alliance, and a buffer against hostile takeovers. From a purely strategic standpoint... the deal is sound.
"Tell me about Baron Tyrell," Kaelen said, his voice carefully neutral as he pushed aside his personal feelings and switched into business mode.
"A shrewd man, my Lord," Gideon answered, relieved to be on the firmer ground of politics.
"His lands are rich in timber but poor for farming. He has always struggled to feed his people through the winter. And his barony borders ours to the east, acting as a buffer to the wilder northern territories."
The pieces clicked into place. This wasn't an offer of friendship. It was a business proposal.
Tyrell needed a reliable source of food. Kaelen's "abundant harvest"—though still just a field of turnips—made Greylock an attractive partner.
The marriage was the seal on the deal, a way to ensure the contract was honored for a generation.
"And his daughter?" Kaelen asked.
Gideon looked uncomfortable again. "Lady Elara is his third daughter, my Lord. I... I do not know much about her. With two older sisters, her marriage prospects have always been... limited."
A third daughter. Not the prized heir. A disposable asset.
Kaelen felt a flicker of something—pity, perhaps—for the unknown girl being used as a bargaining chip. It reminded him of how his old company had treated its junior employees.
"What are the consequences if I refuse?" Kaelen asked.
"It would be seen as a grave insult," Gideon said, his voice low.
"It would signal to our other neighbors that we are arrogant and unwilling to form alliances. It would leave us isolated. An insult to one Baron might be seen as an opportunity by another."
There it was. He was backed into a corner. Refusing the deal was a greater risk than accepting it.
"Draft a reply, Gideon," Kaelen said with a weary sigh.
"Accept the offer of an alliance. We will welcome a delegation from Baron Tyrell to discuss the terms of the trade agreement and the... matrimonial arrangements."
"At once, my Lord," Gideon said, bowing low and scurrying out of the room, leaving Kaelen alone with his thoughts.
He was getting a wife. He, who had trouble maintaining a conversation that wasn't about logistics or engineering, was about to enter into the most complex partnership of all.
He just hoped she wasn't an idiot. An inefficient partner would be a constant drain on his resources.
The next evening, in the training yard, the air was different.
Kaelen's mind was distracted, and it showed.
His footwork was sloppy, his parries were a fraction too slow. Seraphina, sharp as ever, noticed immediately.
She pressed her attack, her wooden sword a blur, forcing him onto the defensive.
"Your mind is not here, my Lord," she stated, disarming him with a sharp twist of her blade. His sword clattered to the ground.
"You are distracted. In a real fight, you would be dead."
"I have... other matters on my mind," he grunted, retrieving his sword.
He didn't need to say more. News traveled fast in a place as small as the castle. He knew she had already heard.
He reset his stance, ready to continue, but she didn't raise her sword. She just stood there, her expression unreadable in the dim light.
"Is it true, my Lord?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral. "About Baron Tyrell's daughter?"
"It is," he confirmed, his gaze steady.
"It is a sound political move. The alliance will secure our eastern border and open up new trade routes for our resources."
He was explaining it to her as a strategist, a commander. He was explaining it to his Knight Captain.
She nodded slowly. "A sound strategic decision," she repeated his own logic back to him, her voice perfectly professional. "Congratulations, my Lord."
But he saw it.
He, who noticed every flaw in a design and every crack in a foundation, saw the microscopic tells.
The way her hand, for a fraction of a second, tightened on the hilt of her sword. The way her formal smile didn't quite reach her eyes. The subtle, almost imperceptible stiffening of her posture.
Asset Seraphina exhibiting signs of emotional distress.
Cause: marriage announcement.
Potential impact on morale and combat effectiveness: currently unknown. Monitor situation.
"It is a political arrangement, Captain. Nothing more," he found himself saying, a statement he hadn't planned to make. He was trying to reassure her, though he wasn't entirely sure why.
"Of course, my Lord," she replied, her professional mask perfectly back in place. "It is none of my concern. Shall we continue the lesson?"
She raised her sword, and he raised his.
But the easy camaraderie they had begun to build, the small laughs and shared moments of exhaustion, was gone. It was replaced by a formal, unbridgeable distance.
She was the Baron's Knight Captain once more.
And he was her Lord, the man who was to be married.
They sparred for another hour, the only sound the clack of wood on wood in the cold, silent yard.
But the lesson was over before it had even begun. A new, invisible wall had just been built between them, stronger and more complicated than any stone he had ever laid.
.
.
.
Author's Note:
Thanks for reading!
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