[Aristides Delvaux]

Aristides was sitting on one of the benches that were scattered around in the sunlit hall, placed in equal distance from each other, they stood against the walls bordering with the apartments, facing the huge windows that gazed out unto the parks. The view was gorgeous of course, the talented gardening crew saw to that and the architect of the palace had tried his best to further underline that. They both succeeded, but had failed to draw the attention of the man sitting on a bench looking out over the gardens through the high windows. The bought-in noble had his arm resting across the back of the bench, his leg lain across his knee and his hat resting on the point of his boot. He was concentrating on the small leather-bound tome clasped in his right hand. One might think it was a book of poetry, or a treatise on philosophy, but that one would be wrong. It was business he was reading, though business often was his pleasure. The game of selling and profit, that cost more life than all the nation’s wars. It was a fine game, where profit was actually secondary to the joy of outsmarting the foe. He looked over the neat lines of profit and expense, of loss and win. Profits this quarter were up, but he could see a few weaknesses in his markets. If he didn’t cut some corners by lowering the bribes in the silk trade, his competitors would be able to wrest control of the market by undercutting his prices. He made a mental note to send some letters out and turned the page of his book.

Aristides wasn’t a real noble, real nobles didn’t associate with the “taint of trade”, didn’t come from a mixed bloodline and most definitely, weren’t born from outside the wedlock. But that didn’t bother the former Flemish trader in the slightest. He was part of a very select aristocracy of talent and titles mattered very little there. He had bought himself a title, just to be part of the game here in the palace. He smiled, how life could turn. Once the bastard of Léon Delvaux and now, nobody even remembered Léon, his true bloodline gone to dust and only thing remaining his illicit son and his empire.

Today he was wearing one of his favorite doublets, black with only the slightest hint of embroidery near the cuffs and shoulders. It was trifle subtle, but that didn’t bother him. He didn’t like to have his clothing stand out. A professional flaw. He leafed through the report some more, humming softly at himself…

[Princess Abigail Castyll]

Abigail was furious. No, livid. Yes, livid was a more accurate word to describe the fume and temper that was welling within her. Her mother simply did not know when to stop meddling. Just today, her mother had shown her two more eligible gentlemen. Sure, it could have been worse, but her mother never ceased trying to find her a husband. To be honest though, the anger was a cover. Her fear was what drove her to this anger in the first place. Her own fear of commitment. Well, to an extent. She was loyal, yes, but it was hard for her to completely trust a person to where her loyalty would show. If a person ever did get past that, she was sure enough willing to commit to that relationship. Maybe it was more or less a difficulty in forming relationships, but either way, Abby would never in a million years admit it. She was too proud, too stubborn, and too angry to even take any blame.

Taking a few more steps through the corridor, she could tell her pace was quicker than usual. The echoes gave that away, but that was the least of her worries. She needed to get out, do something, to blow of the steam that was rising within her in increasing amounts with each second. Maybe she was blowing things out of proportion, but her mother had done this more than once, and today was, as some suggest, the last straw. She had it! When would her mother realize that she wanted to choose a husband of her own?

Sure, she says she doesn’t want to force a marriage on me, but how forceful do you think you are? Abigail muttered under her breath, still quite aggravated. She felt her fist clench even tighter, as she walked further and further down the corridor. Her steps were so loud, that for a second, she hadn’t even noticed the slight humming. But when she did, she stopped, looked and discovered a man there, sitting, flipping through leaflets, and humming. Of all things! Abigail would have paid the man no heed, but he was quite unfortunate for being the first human she had come in contact with since she left her mother’s room in a blind rage. The poor man would simply have to deal with his temper, and Abigail didn’t care who he was or what he was doing. What made her temper worse was that she was not one walking this way to get away from her mother, but to find her puppy, Ellie who had suddenly gone missing. Out of all the days to be adventurous, the pooch had to pick this day. Abby was simply furious and she didn’t care what this boy would think of her.

Of course, she felt slightly better when she looked at him and noticed his tattered clothing. He was a servant. Well, good. Maybe she could order him around for a bit, and make him do her bidding. That would make her feel better, no doubt, as if she was in control of the situation. And that control was really all she wanted.

“You there!” Abby yelled, her voice ringing through the hallway. “Go fetch my Ellie….” There was a pause. “now.” She knew she was acting selfish and conceited, but she had every reason to. “She’s ran out somewhere in the gardens, I presume…and if you can’t find her there, look harder. Don’t come back until you find her.”

[Aristides Delvaux]

There was another reason why Aristides actually enjoyed reading the reports from the East, South and West, other than the joy of seeing numbers denoting profit and gain. There were stories, memories in there. The scents of Alexandria, the tinkling of crystal glass and the soft-toned conversations in Spanish and the hints of exotic spices, mixed within the pages and etched in ink and imagination. He had to admit he missed a lot of that, the constant traveling, the new sights and people…the excitement of the entry and the run, the feeling of adrenaline singing in your veins and the accords played on your nerves. There was a addicting edge to experiencing danger first-hand. These days he could almost only live vicariously through his contacts and reports. There were good things about getting away from field-work, but the mind tended to glorify the past…He found that he sometimes actually missed being in the thick of things.

He continued leafing through the manifest, lost in a kind of silent reverie, humming the tunes of an old song he had picked up in Morocco. He couldn’t remember where, when or even how, but it made him feel warmer, more comfortable…

The spymaster was aware of the fact that someone had come into the hall, footsteps reaching his ears and alerting him to another presence than his. The steps resounded with a kind of irritation or hurry, but he paid them no heed. They did not intrude upon his dreams of the past and his memories mixed with imagination. He was about to turn to another page when a very loud, female voice cut through his thoughts like a razor…

“You there!”

In a flash, he was ripped from dreams of the past headlong into the present, but with memories clinging to his heels. “You there” tended to be an outcry a spy, or anyone else who had more than a little weight on his conscience didn't like hearing. A pair of very sharp brown eyes shot from the pages of the book, the covers of the manifest slapping shut with a resounding clap and his off-hand shooting to the stiletto hidden in the back of his belt, near the base of his spine. Even if you were out of the thick of things, some instincts never died…

The Flemish trader stopped when he saw who it was that had cried out though, slowly stopping the motion he had started instinctively and dropped his hand back to his side. Abigail Castyll, princess. He had a few reports on her, like he had on most people in court, but he hadn’t met her before. The reports however, had seemed to be accurate. Demanding, imperious and good at throwing a tantrum. Aristides had heard she was also quite a sly minx, one of those few born every generation that would make his hair turn gray long before its appointed time if he didn’t watch out.

“Go fetch my Ellie…now. She’s ran out somewhere in the gardens, I presume…and if you can’t find her there, look harder. Don’t come back until you find her.”

Aristides got up without any show of haste or urgency, laying the book down besides him and hauled himself up from the bench, turning slightly to face her.

”Your majesty,” He said, bowing slightly, he kept the tone of his voice level and friendly, a little smile on his face as he looked back up. ”I think you have mistaken me for another and though I’d be delighted to join you in your search, I think others would be more successful at tracking small prey than I would.”

[Princess Abigail Castyll]

The man didn’t respond fast enough. That was Abigail’s conclusion as she watched him leisurely stand up with the speed of a tortoise. Who did he think was ordering him around? She was the princes. She deserved an immediate response, not one that screamed apathy, at least toward her? Sure, she may be young, but she could certainly pull some strings and have him regret his every move in her presence.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, of which was spent tapping her foot, and glaring at the man in the most disgusted and irritated way. She didn’t want him to feel comfortable. She wanted her eyes to pierce though him. Maybe then that would cause him to respond quicker. What kind of servant was he then, sitting here reading when he had work to do? This was obviously a lazy man, and an even lazier nurse. Abigail swore if she had to wait one second for a word to be uttered from his mouth she would have him regret it. She didn’t know how, but she would.

Patience wasn’t one thing that Abigail possessed especially when she was so irritated. Maybe she would have been delightful pleasant if she had experienced a good day, but that certainly was not the case. Indeed, she could certainly be pleasant if the situation called for it, but it was only the two of the, so who would he tell? She had rumors of her temper flying around, but she always kept them on their tows with her smile and elegance. It always managed to win them over. Watching the guy stand up, Abigial froze for a second. He looked somewhat familiar, but before she could ever conjure up any sort of confusion as to why, the man finally spoke.

”Your majesty, I think you have mistaken me for another and though I’d be delighted to join you in your search, I think others would be more successful at tracking small prey than I would.”

Abigail didn’t know whether to be insulted or not. Sure, he had said ‘majesty’, and he had indeed bowed, but he had called her precious dog a prey! And what’s more, he had accused her of mistaking him for someone else! How dare he suggest she was wrong. Bewildered, and unable to determine what she should say next, she bit her lip and turned away. The insufferable boy. And that was how Abigail chose to think of the man as: a boy. For he obviously didn’t truly know his place. But then again…maybe he was playing with her. He seemed to talk, his eyes to…whimsical to ever really say those words as insult purposefully. No, maybe he did mean it as a joke, and in that case, Abigail was more than willing to cooperate.

Looking back at him she nodded her head. “Fine, you say I’ve got the wrong person, but you’re the only one here, so I demand you at least search with me. I can’t have my pooch and my pride lost all in one day. My mother seems to be enough for me to handle.” Abigail began to turn around to lead the way down the corridor, but then she stopped and turned around. “So tell me, boy, what is your name? Why is it that you believe I have mistaken you so? Are you not a servant in this palace?” Abigail felt slightly calmer but the storm within her was still raging.

[Aristides Delvaux]

Aristides, as a man with a familiarity with reading features and feelings from others, noticed that the young princess was irritated at his leisurely reaction. He didn’t particularly care, really. She had obviously held little care for his feelings, even if he had been a servant, he found that he should’ve been ordered around a little more respectfully. It was probably a question of professional ethics. Aristides had found that a nudge was often very effective, a suggestion or slight hint of an order, but a nudge never really was. It might work once or twice, but in the end the person you were ordering around would come to resent it and perform his tasks with less and less diligence. Better not wave the rod around. That was one reason of course, the other lay deeper and more hidden. His illegitimacy had been a core reason for people not to take him seriously over the years, not give him any respect no matter how high he rose in ranks. It was irritating that one person could just feel entitled to everything in the world, just because she had been born in one bed and not the other. No questions asked about talent, about intelligence, no just blood…which was so easy to spill…

It was strange though, that a man who so despised the system of noble blood had bought himself into it. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of the taint of his own heritage that way? Or start a new line without the baggage of his father and those who came before him. Aristides didn’t know exactly why, aside from the fact that nobility, even bought one, opened doors that no amount of skill and intelligence would open.

The princess turned away after his reply, either irritated that he didn’t jump as soon as she said leap, or irritated of being pointed at her mistake. He remained standing, his hands at his side and the small smile on his face. He understood youthful impatience, having once been young himself, but having had the luck of patient and firm teachers to slowly let that ebb out of him. He had never been served at his beck and call, but such a thing built character. Facing denial and dealing with it, working for something until the sweat streamed off your back. It built character, but he wasn’t here to raise royalty…only raise them from innocence if they required his services.

“Fine, you say I’ve got the wrong person, but you’re the only one here, so I demand you at least search with me. I can’t have my pooch and my pride lost all in one day. My mother seems to be enough for me to handle.”

He smiled and bowed again, seemed like it would do little harm to humor her. He didn’t have anything pressing to do anyway. Business took care of itself around this time of year, when most of the shipments just had to be distributed and he could send that little note to his representative in Italy any time he wished. Taking the small leather-bound book and sliding it inside his doublet as the lady continued.

“So tell me, boy, what is your name? Why is it that you believe I have mistaken you so? Are you not a servant in this palace?”

Boy? He raised an eyebrow, either she was trying to insult him or she needed to have her eyes checked. He hadn’t been a boy since he had turned 19 and taken to the cities of Bennezzia. He hadn’t been a boy since the day he could bear a beard and maybe even before. Why she chose to call him boy now, when he had the age to probably be her father was beyond him, but he didn’t allow his smile to drop.

”I think my age forbids me taking on the title of boy, your majesty. My name is Aristides Delvaux and though I do serve the queen, I do not serve in the same nature as you seem to think…”

[Princess Abigail Castyll]

It might be said that in all honesty Abigail had not even considered the man’s age. Her mind was completely focused on other more important and pressing matters. She simply wanted him to do what she asked. She needed something to go right today, didn’t she? But Abigail did not necessarily expect what she saw in the next few moments. Instead of seeing the man confused and terribly frightened, he was neither. He looked relaxed, composed, even amused, if she dare say so herself. Well, she never did meet such a fool! Was that…a smile? How could he smile when she was in such a state? It was inconceivable, and she felt her anger rise with each passing moment. Biting her lip, a habit that she had become quite accustomed too, Abigail tried to contain herself. She knew that she should just fly of the handle.

No, years have taught her that it was important to keep one’s anger in check. She never did that though as a young child, but now, being the Princess, it was important to maintain a certain image, and she honestly did try hard to keep it. But, that was easier said than done. She had on more than one occasion let her anger consume her and that was probably why the man was so amused. She didn’t like that he was in a sense making fun of her. What right did he have? Abigail still gathered the man to be a servant from his , but then he said something that somewhat crushed her pride, and she didn’t appreciate that in the least bit.

After a few seconds of silence he answered, “”I think my age forbids me taking on the title of boy, your majesty. My name is Aristides Delvaux and though I do serve the queen, I do not serve in the same nature as you seem to think…”

The man bowed respectfully but ever word he said Abigail took offense against. She made a face and glared at him for a second. Maybe he wasn’t a boy after all, but was it her fault that she had been to busy. No, indeed, it was not. She had admitted she was wrong once, before, with slight ease, but this time, she wasn’t so willing to apologize. No, indeed, she was going to call him boy if she felt like it, even if she did find it weird after finally taking in his old, rugged appearance. And indeed he was rather rugged. He was dirty, almost like he hadn’t had a bath in a month. How could he live with himself. What kind of service did he partake in then? How dare he assume what she was thinking! H e could not go into her head.
But, Abigail figured, her time was better spent responding to him, not judging. So, she finally ended up replying. “Aristides, then? Fine. If you’re not a ‘normal’ servant, than tell me, what do you do for Josephine?”

For a second all thought of a little Ellie was gone as she gave him a stern glare.

[Aristides Delvaux]

(had to rush this a little, so hope it's alright)

He saw a pair of white teeth softly burry themselves in the reddish flesh of her lower lip, for some a sign of shame or shyness, but Aristides knew from reports that with the little princess, it was a sign of imminent explosion. He stubbornly refused to run for cover however. She might be a princess, but if she was behaving like a spoiled brat, he wouldn’t tuck tail like any mongrel dog, even though he was born as one. He kept up the calm facade of a smile and watched, waited for it even. The Flemish spymaster usually tried to evade direct confrontation, preferring to outmanoeuvre our outflank his opponent in such a way that it could no longer be called a confrontation. However, he wouldn’t allow anybody to run rough-shod over him, especially not children who had barely walked the world.

She glared at him, looking depreciatingly at his sober clothing, his hair that refused all efforts at smoothing and his beard that, though well-trimmed never failed to convey a little of a dirt that wouldn’t come off. She glared and he met her eyes, still smiling but allowing the smile to slowly drain from his eyes until there was only the slightest hint, mixed with a calm and collected glint. Her voice dripped with superiority, or so Aristides found when she answered him, responding with another question.

“Aristides, then? Fine. If you’re not a ‘normal’ servant, than tell me, what do you do for Josephine?”

Aristides calmly slid his hand into his doublet and drew out the leather-bound volume he had put there but a moment ago, when he had gotten up. Undoing the clasp of the surrounding belt, he clapped it open and read aloud, reverting to a peculiar mixture of truth and lie that he always used.

”Current balance of consortium: 215,000 ducats in investments, 135,000 in present merchandise, 569,000 ducats remaining in peculium...”

He stopped reading from the page and looked up, figuring she wouldn’t understand. He closed the book and put it back, explaining what he had just read. It wasn’t a complete fiction, he had received quite an amount of funds from her majesty to invest over the years he had served her, but it had been more of an extra. An extra-curricular duty he preformed to. Aristides had taken it up to be his mask to court. He was her investor, or so a lot of people thought, a person with a sly sense for making money and a sharp edge at the bartering table. A financial advisor so to speak.

”I serve her majesty as an advisor and councillor in the field of mercantile and economics, but also serve as her proxy at the bartering table. I’m also entrusted with the task of collecting valuables and getting an edge over competition.”

In this entire exposition, he never completely lied. He did serve as an advisor when it came to the economy and he sometimes bartered in lieu of her majesty. She had invested quite a deal of money in his venues, perhaps to bind him to her and he did collect valuables. Information was the most valuable of all...and it gave you all the edge you needed. He smiled again, slightly, but still the light did not reach his eyes...

[Princess Abigail Castyll]

Despite all that Abby had said and done, Aristides still seemed intent on giving off a clam disposition, and she had to agree he was doing a terribly find job. Maybe even more so than Abby herself, but she never let that idea go into fruition.

Instead, she kept her stern eye focused on the man as he calmly looked her over and then moved toward the books that he had been looking at when she arrived.
As he did, Abby felt her impatience grow. What was the point of retrieving those books at this moment? Why not give a straight answer? All Aristides had to say was how he served her sister-in-law, but instead, he seemed more concerned about the words on the leaflets than her, or the question she presented. It was all rather irritating and she had honestly had enough of it. She would have honestly said something, done something, if he had not, at that very moment spoken up.

”Current balance of consortium: 215,000 ducats in investments, 135,000 in present merchandise, 569,000 ducats remaining in peculium...”

What was the man babbling about? Sure investments, merchandise, but why was Aristides telling her these numbers? Of what importance did this information carry? Abby could see that a country needed someone to take advice of such matters, but gathering for the man’s appearance, he did not look intelligible at all. In fact, she was surprised he spoke with a rather dignified and intelligent air. She still wasn’t completely convinced of it and merely stared at Aristides.

“I serve her majesty as an advisor and councilor in the field of mercantile and economics, but also serve as her proxy at the bartering table. I’m also entrusted with the task of collecting valuables and getting an edge over competition,” he said, still quite dignified and clam, which was quite the opposite of Abby. Intelligable, Abby could be, but she did not always seem so due to her occasional impulsive nature. She had never been one to honestly think things through. She had more often than not let her heart or rather emotions guide how she should react, and at this time, she was quite bored. She had hoped that Aristides was involved in a more interesting aspect of Adesia, but apparently he wasn’t.
Still, Abigail eye Aristides with caution. She didn’t feel like she could trust him, which was rather normal. She almost always was slightly over cautious when first meeting people, though it might seem odd, that it didn’t take long for that to be changed, or to be solidified. She had always made her decisions rather quickly, and this situation was no exception. With a slight nod, Abby responded.

“I see. So you are more intelligent than a servant might be considered. Very well…then maybe your intelligence would of assistance to me. Maybe you have an idea where my little Ellie went? Of if not, don’t bother, and you can certainly go back to your books and work with those boring numbers….”

[Aristides Delvaux]

When he began citing the numbers and ammounts of money transferred and received from the separate account he kept for her majesty, a look of incomprehension crossed her face. To be true, he should’ve expected no less. Money was of scant value to most of the gentry, who had no concept of the value of one ducat to one of the common folk. One ducat was probably enough to live on for two weeks, if you watched out. It wouldn’t be good food or even filling, but you’d survive. To be true, Aristides himself had never really lacked funds, but he had played to role often enough to know that hunger wasn’t something that was uncommon in most parts of the world. It was so common it was an absolute necessity in some disguises…

Her eyes went disinterested when he explained what he was, or what he posed to be. She was obviously not a woman interested in the game of economics, while it was the game that built empires more easily than war. War cost money, trade made it. No trade, no money, no princess or kings, nothing. Money was the oil to make the cogs go round…The princess didn’t lose the hard edge of suspicion in her eyes though. He kept his smile up, but this time with more truthfulness. She might not have the sense to know not to wave around her authority like a club, but she had the sense to be distrustful of strangers and others. Most people would be bothered by being distrusted and misunderstood, but to Aristides it was just a thing that was part of the game. Of loss and win, there was nothing without a certain amount of mistrust. It was a challenge, an invitation and a dare. He enjoyed it, but at the same time it made him sick to his stomach. Like all things of the game, the pleasure was coupled to a price…

“I see. So you are more intelligent than a servant might be considered. Very well…then maybe your intelligence would of assistance to me. Maybe you have an idea where my little Ellie went? Of if not, don’t bother, and you can certainly go back to your books and work with those boring numbers….”

Aristides chuckled and slipped the book back into his pockets, closing the front of his doublet as he smiled at her. He bowed again and nodded, his eyes twinkling with an open mirth.

”Never underestimate the servants, your majesty, you might not see them, but you’d be surprised at how much they know…” He cocked his head to the side and began thinking, he had noticed a few passerby, but the dog…He began digging in his memory and then he remembered. The sounds of clicking nails on the tile floor, heading from her direction to the opposite one. He hadn’t followed the dog, so he had no idea where it had gone, but it wouldn’t be hard to find out. ”Guess it’s time to see if they have a good memory, Ellie went that way so we should ask the guard at the nearest crossing to narrow down the field of search.”