Tale of Four

Vincent clicked his tongue, walking into the great hall of the Starlight Fort. It was a loud chorus of laughter and conversation, the air heavy with the smell of alcohol and sweat. Covering his face to both hide his warped expression and dilute the smell, he turned to William, who gave a polite smile.

"My prince. I know your preference, but please understand I have put together these small enjoyments for both you and the men." Vincent clicked his tongue and looked around at the men and women. All of them ignored the arrival, rather enjoying the woman William had brought over, having them pour drinks, with a few openly groping the prostitutes and playing into their desires; they fed them more alcohol so they wouldn’t notice they overpaid later.

"They could at least have some respect and not be so... openly enjoying themselves." He struggled to say the last part. William watched and sighed, seeing Vincent fiddle with his gloves, making sure they were on properly. Although it was strange, he understood partly why the prince hated such open displays of desire. Everyone knew he was a child born from a second marriage when Henry VI remarried in his old age, and becuase of it, he could never wash away the stigma. Whilst most wouldn’t dare say it aloud anymore after Vincent executed a man, there was a time when he was called the spawn of an old man’s lust.

William wiped his face to hide his smirk, recalling the title, and shook his head. He didn’t disapprove of how Vincent dealt with the insult, but it also showed how fragile his ego was. "The men need to know they can enjoy themselves. Do not worry; should they go beyond mere touching, I will make sure they leave." Vincent scowled but nodded and took to the seat at the head of the hall, sitting in the main seat, with William by his side. Quickly, William had a few drinks brought to him, along with a few of his friends, knowing if he had to spend his time with Vincent alone, he would struggle to hide his contempt. "I prepared some entertainment you may enjoy, however. I know you like music, and luckily one of the women who arrived is skilled with a harp. I had her show me, after acquiring one."

Vincent nodded, looking down at the mug of brown liquid. His upper lip twitched, and looking away, he fell backwards into the chair and leaned against his hand. Even if he found him pretentious, William couldn’t help but also be intrigued by watching Vincent, especially noticing his little quirks such as how his fingers bounced on his cheek in cycles of three, a cycle that found its way into everything he did, from writing to eating.

"If she can emulate the people of my mother’s court even a little, it will be a nice surprise." His tone softened when talking of his mother, and William smiled but looked away, saying nothing and falling into thought. Although Rosalia was skilled, compared to a person of the Artlands, it wasn’t a fair comparison. Looking around, he saw Rosalia, standing in the corner tuning the harp, dressed in a black outfit. It was rather strange, reminding him of the black mourning clothes of Twin Peaks, hardly suiting the atmosphere of the hall.

"Her." William pointed towards Rosalia, making Vincent look. His gaze drifted towards Rosaline, and for a moment, William saw an acknowledgement in his gaze before it began scrutinising her.

"Her hair is far too fine compared to the rest," Vincent said, not directed towards anyone. "Her skin is too well maintained as well." Vincent looked to William. "She isn’t a whore."

"She is a Madam of a whore house. A small difference, but they have a standard they hold themselves to. I got a good look for myself." William nearly laughed at Vincent’s frown and carried on, "Whilst she is rather clean compared to the rest, everything she said and knows adds up."

"I do not doubt your ability at knowing whores William, but it’s weird. Call her over to perform." William nodded and looked into the distance. Clapping loudly, he got Rosalia’s attention and signalled they were ready. With a charming smile, she walked over, a servant carrying the harp behind her, and William looked back at Vincent, his lips in a deep frown.

"It’s wrong." Saying under his breath, he took a deep breath.

"Do you frequent whores enough to know, My Prince?" Vincent’s head snapped towards William. "I mean no insult, but you are talking as if you know."

"I do not sully myself." Vincent leaned into his fist. "But she carries herself differently. Even the way she walks. The way she is swaying her hips is far too unnatural."

"Of course it is. It is only done to entice customers. Do you honestly think they walk like that naturally?" Vincent shook his head.

"No, I mean she is copying others. Her upper body doesn’t naturally flow with it compared to the rest who have done so for years. She holds herself too rigid, like a lady. And her outfit. It isn’t a dress for a whore house; but religious."

"Religious. Surely you jest."

"I may not know whores William, but I know outfits, makeup, hair, music." Vincent stared at her outfit. "It isn’t clear to the untrained eye, but look at her dress. It’s been repurposed. Those additions on the sleeves and chest hide what it really is, and the end has been cut short and modified, alongside other sections. Her hair as well, far too well kept, almost as fine as Mary’s. The paleness of her skin isn’t natural either. It’s purposefully enhanced by medicines and makeup. Maybe it can be achieved if one hid from the sun, but it would have a greyness to it, whereas hers is more artificial."

William looked back to Rosalia. Although the look of her hair and makeup made sense to him based on what she told him, and he didn’t see what Vincent saw in her dress, he knew better than to challenge him. After all, not only was his mother a Lady of the Artlands, but he was also a person who had a wide collection of makeup for his personal use.

"So what, she isn’t a whore? When I paid for her services, it didn’t seem that way. She was rather skilled." William smiled to himself, but quickly wiped it away

"No. I don’t think she is, at least." Vincent took a deep breath and clicked his tongue as Rosalia took her place before him. His hand covered his mouth as he looked at her. She was beautiful; that much Vincent could see, but it wasn’t anything special and didn’t suit his preference in a woman.

Instead, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the music; listening to the song, he relaxed a little. It was a common song, The Lord’s Arrival, one commonly played in religious ceremony, but he could tell it was slightly different. The song had been altered in a way. It was more violent, a very subtle violence; the strings pulled more aggressively to change the harmonic song it originally was.

It was soemthing only noticeable to the trained ear, but Vincent knew. How many times had he heard his mother play the song, and how many times had he played it himself? ’A personal alteration. No, it’s too well trained. The music has a meaning.’

Opening his eyes, he looked at Rosalia as she played with a serene expression. "Can you pause for a moment?" Vincent said, making William turn away from his conversation and look at him. He saw the man sigh in annoyance but ignored it. Rosalia opened her eyes and stared back at him. "That song, is the Lord’s Arrival correct?" It was a moment, but he saw her squint her eyes before fixing her expression and nodding. "So why are you playing it differently?" Rosalia sweetly smiled, but Vincent could see that it was fake. A smile he had flashed many times, one that was done to please the person it was offered to but hide a disdain. Clenching his fist, he took a deep breath.

"Forgive me, My Prince. I am only doing it as I learnt. My tutors were not the renowned artists of Hampton." Vincent nodded. It made sense. After all, if she was a whore, it was likely she couldn’t get the best teachers, but he still couldn’t believe it completely. The way she played was perfect if done right. The subtle changes were too natural and had different meanings.

"There are no worries. Continue." Rosalia nodded and closed her eyes, continuing to play. Leaning over to William, he whispered. "The song is wrong. Everything about her is wrong, William."

"Even if she isn’t a whore, it isn’t strange for a woman to come and try her luck when she knows a prince is here." William peeked towards Rosalia. "She already said her desire was to try and have your bastard when she came. Many have had similar ambitions to her."

"To try and have a Cosmaton bastard." Vincent scoffed, "Do you honestly believe my family would allow such a thing to exist if it was discovered?"

"Many have bastards, my Prince."

"Yes, but a Cosmaton bastard carries the blood of the first king and has the chance to have a summon." Vincent chuckled. "Very few have bastards because of it. After all, a bastard child can be used by the Great Lords. Brandon’s grandson is a rarity. Usually we would never allow such a child to live, and if it was, it would be taken back to the palace. They are far too dangerous." Vincent took a deep breath and looked to Rosalia. "Her ambition is hopeless, even if another had come instead of me."

William rolled his eyes and turned back to his group of friends. Yet his gaze could never move away from Rosalia. Although Vincent was shallow, egotistical, boring and more woman than man, he trusted every observation he made about Rosalia even if he didn’t notice them himself. After all, they were all things that only he would have noticed as a man. Very few paid as much attention to their own appearance as he did, and more importantly, he had the blood of the Artlands. It was insulting if he dared claim he knew more than Vincent, even if he disliked the man.

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