Post by callmedelta on Jun 11, 2022 15:15:26 GMT -5
Thwack. Thwack thwack.
King Dante Emil Soleil Della Rosa II, Sovereign of Franerre, Shield of Her People, Defender of the Foa Restoration and Mordred’s Revolution, stood in front of a training dummy. A dueling blade was in his hand, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He struck again, and again. The King spared a glance to the watch on his arm. 5:50 pm, ten more minutes. Ten more minutes. Dante struck again. Again. Again. He fell into that steady, soothing rhythm of swordplay that he knew so well. There was no Franerre, no squabblings of the National Chamber, no Kumosenkan and Galra at his border, nothing but himself and the blade. Just how he’d always wanted it.
Thwack. Thwack thwack.
Dante went for an overhead strike at the dummy, the blade sinking into the cloth. He pulled out and whirled around for a strike at the dummy’s side, striking harder than what was good for the blade. Dante didn’t care. The exertion was good, it helped him focus. It helped to calm Dante too, both the exercise themselves and the fact that he always made time for them everyday at the end of his work day. He had to, or else Dante would have gone insane during his nine years of rule. Had it been nine years already? It seemed like his coronation was only yesterday, the tragedy that claimed his brother still fresh in his mind.
Thwack. Thwack thwack.
The thoughts left his mind nearly as soon as they entered. One of the benefits of swordplay, Dante mused. Most sports of other types of physical exertion could accomplish the same. He lunged for the dummy’s chest, aimed directly where his heart would be. Dante knew it was a perfect stab as the rapier in his hand sank a few inches into the cloth. This was why he loved the blade so much. Because he was good at it. The pen may have been mightier than the sword, but the sword felt so much more right in his hands. Dante longed to be able to modernize Franerre with the turn of his blade, stab Kumosenkan with the tip of his rapier and slash the throat of Galra with the ease he did the training dummy. But it was only time, luck, and the stroke of the damnable pen that could do that.
Thwack. Thwack th-
Knock knock knock.
Dante paused, his blade centimeters from striking the dummy a third time. He panted hard, forehead sheen with sweat, his blade unmoving. The knocks came again. “Come in,” Dante said, sheathing the blade and turning towards the door.
“Your Highness,” Zachary said with a bow. Zachary was the head of the palace staff, a short man with the barest hint of a stomach who was just beginning to show the balding head and wrinkles of his age. Dante didn’t need to be told it was 6:00 pm on the hour, the pair had been through the daily routine enough for Dante to know it by heart. He looked longingly towards the dummy, before leaving the palace’s gymnasium. Time waited for no man, after all.
Dante walked through the palace complex, letting his mind dwell on the building rather than more pressing matters. The building had finished construction in 1784, after the Foa Restoration had removed the Lusatian colonial regime from Franerre. The palace’s central building was large, with smaller buildings serving as quarters for the staff, stables, grarages, and storage. The entire complex itself sat on 4 acres in the heart of Pareau, most of which were opulent gardens that could be seen from the palace’s many windows. Those same windows gave Dante a view of the setting sun, the last rays of light glinting over the bay. The electric lights would be turning on soon, but the palace could still be lit by the sun for a few more minutes.
‘A funny thing that is,’ Dante thought as he neared his destination. On his few trips to Lusatia, everyone there had taken electricity for granted. Here in Franerre? Pareau was the most electrified city in the nation, and still the poorer half of the city used candles and kerosene lamps. Any further thoughts were interrupted by Dante’s arrival to the baths. Dinner was served at 6:45 pm, and a quick check of the watch revealed he had 41 minutes to take his bath. While the prepared hot water of the baths certainly did wonders for Dante’s muscles, it didn’t soothe his mind the same way swordplay did. Without the constant exertion of working out, it allowed Dante’s mind to wander back to the events that led him here. Dante didn’t know if that was better or worse than dwelling on his kingship or his current work. If he tried to put his mind on something else, Dante knew those were the only other place it would go.
Before he was King, Dante Emil Soleil Della Rosa was the third of his father’s five children. He’d never expected to be King: Louis VII, his father, was in good health. Leo was naturally charismatic, and he had a way of surrounding himself with the best talent in the nation. Toussaint was a prodigy at statecraft, even if he could be hard headed. Dante, by contrast, only really cared about the sword and his sports as a child. He still paid more attention to the tutors than Nicholas, who only came to half of the lessons. That was still more than Anne-Marie ever got, Louis VII never considering a woman fit for leadership.
Leo died right before he turned twenty from an accident at sea. It was certainly a loss for the throne, but Toussaint was still there to take his place when he came of age. That time would come soon enough as Louis VII would die two years later, the man not quite as invincible as every child saw his father. Toussaint, now King Toussaint Nìnés Lune Della Rosa I, had insisted Dante learn more about politics and statecraft. Just as before, Dante had made an attempt at paying attention, but he never really cared. How much of a fool he’d been. Dante had spent his early adult life making his way through the Franerri dueling circuit. Nicholas only ever cared for his wine bottle, and Anne-Marie had married some Lusatian noble. Perhaps she’d had the best lot of the three.
Dante’s mind settled on the happy memories he’d made during those years of Toussaint’s rule. He had started from the bottom, but soon rose through the Franerri dueling circuit. With his limited public appearances as the King Louis VII’s son, and later King Toussaint’s brother, Dante was able to keep his identity a secret, lest anyone throw the match because he was royalty. No, Dante had earned his titles and trophies through blood, sweat, and tears. Perhaps he’d never been the best duelist in Franerre, but he was damn good.
As he opened his eyes, Dante knew his memories were gone for the time being. It was best that they ended there. He got out of the bath and dried himself off, beginning the process of dressing himself in the fine clothes that constrained the King. Dante much preferred the loose silk shirt he wore when working out. But Dante knew that if he slouched now, then one day he would lapse on some part of his kingly duties in public. That would be disrespectful to the memory of all of the great Franerri Kings who came before him, but more importantly, the memory of Toussaint.
~
King Dante Emil Soleil Della Rosa II, Sovereign of Franerre, Shield of Her People, Defender of the Foa Restoration and Mordred’s Revolution, sat down at the dining table. It was 6:40 pm, dinner ready in five minutes. King Dante sat at the table’s head, his son Caden to his right and his wife Jadwiga. Queen Jadwiga Kainé Gwiazda Della Rosa was the daughter of old Lusatian colonial nobility who had integrated and were now the owners of one of the largest mining companies in the nation, with many important political and business ties back to the home country. She was the perfect confluence of important enough to marry and a woman the King could actually love. Jadwiga wasn’t perfect for him, and King Dante had half a dozen royal bastards with women he still cared for in some deep part of his heart before he actually became King, but the pair made it work.
Caden, though. Prince Caden was 8 years old, born a year after King Dante had been crowned and he and Queen Jadwiga had married. The King knew that if he continued the trend of his older brothers, that would leave the Kingdom to Nicholas, which could not happen under any circumstances. That, combined with the fact that back then he was still very much the man who had half a dozen royal bastards that had to be clearly swept under the rug, had led to Prince Caden’s birth. King Dante loved his son, but there were many things in life he just did not know how to do, and fatherhood was one of them. He had been ok with it at the time, because Queen Jadwiga had picked up the slack of parenting.
But now, Queen Jadwiga spent most of her time doting over the little princess, Catarina Della Rosa. Thankfully, she had been laid down for a nap just before the meal, so King Dante had Jadwiga for now. That left the burden of parenting to the King most of the time. And yet, when he was already burdened by the weight of a nation, the time of one little boy seemed so insignificant, even if it was his own flesh and blood. Catarina was two now, and it had only been a year ago when King Dante had tried to start making more time for his son. One hour, every day. He wanted to spend more time with his son, but he hardly knew what to do with the hour he allotted himself, much less anymore than that. In that year, King Dante was ashamed and astounded at what little headway he’d made.
King Dante’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the food. Had it been five minutes already? The man sighed. He had been lost in his thoughts again, as he so often was. When you lived in the palace for so long, it was easy to ignore the bustling of the staff as they passed. There would even be those coming and going through the meal, but the King hardly made conscious note of them. Did Caden say anything during that time that King Dante had missed? No, Jadwiga would have kicked his leg under the table. Taking a close look at his child, King Dante saw that he appeared to be staring off into space, lost in his own head. He'd inherited something from his old man, at least. Prince Caden was a bit slower to realize it was time for dinner, just now exiting from his own head. The King didn’t know whether he should be proud Caden had inherited that or not.
After saying a quick Catholic prayer, the family began to eat. “How have the studies been going?” King Dante asked between bites.
“Good,” was Caden’s one-word response. Did Caden just not feel like talking to his father, or was that his naturally quiet nature showing?
“Did you finish that book you were reading?” Jadwiga chimed in. That’s right, King Dante had seen the boy with a book on a few occasions. It looked like the name escaped both him and Jadwiga at the moment, though.
Caden perked up at that comment, looking up from his plate. “The Black Claw?” King Dante struggled with the name for a moment, before remembering it was a Marrlaner import. Lehran had recommended it, if the King remembered correctly. “I just finished it yesterday.”
“Really now? What was it about?” King Dante asked. He was never the most interested in books as a child, they overlapped too much with the tutors for his taste. Still, King Dante knew how important it would be to listen to this conversation. Politics and parenting had that in common.
“It’s about the formation of the beasthunters.” Caden put an air of awe and mystique on the last word, the excitement dripping from his voice, Dante found himself naturally paying attention even if the King had no idea who they were. He nodded along anyway. “In the end of the book, in the aftermath of Captain Richards killing the Enigma Shell, he went on to found the beasthunters to kill anything else that could show up from the deep ocean.”
‘Well, it’s a good thing such creatures don’t exist in real life,’ King Dante thought. He didn’t know what an Enigma Shell was, but judging by how it apparently took an entire book to kill one, it wasn’t anything good.
“I can’t believe this is a real piece of Marrlaner history! I’d love to go and see Harbaville someday.” Caden was practically beaming, while the King was glad he didn’t voice his earlier thoughts. That comment did give Dante some pause though. He tried to schedule trips to Lusatia at least once a year, to just get away from it all in Pareau. Could he go to Marrlan sometime? Something to squirrel away for later.
King Dante waited for Caden or Jadwiga to continue the conversation, but neither did. What to talk about? He didn’t want to talk about his work, and asking Jadwiga how Catarina was would only drive Caden from the conversation. King Dante knew that Caden didn’t have the most interest in physical activity like he did, but the boy kept in good shape and it was a topic the King could at least talk about. “So, have any sports taken your interest lately? You know my offer to hire my old dueling trainer is always open.”
King Dante knew he’d said something wrong even before he saw how Caden looked away, thanks to a well placed kick to his shin from Jadwiga. The King knew that Caden had been disinterested in the offer before, but he’d never reacted like that before. He could ask about books again, but he didn’t know if that would salvage the situation or just be too pathetic an attempt to fix the situation. Pressing the subject would be even worse than that.
“How are you liking the meal so far, Caden?” Jadwiga asked, saving the entire family from an awkward situation. The conversation picked up again after that, but it never had the same energy as it did at the beginning. It was rote, routine. The meal finished soon after that. It was 7:30 pm. Caden went to his room, and the King let him. Just because he scheduled an hour for the boy didn’t mean King Date often used the full time. Perhaps, one day, they’d get a full hour.
~
Dante was polishing his dueling rapier in his room when Jadwiga entered. She had probably just finished her last checkup of Catarina. Dante sighed, and his wife placed her hands on his shoulder, resting her head on his. Jadwiga’s shoulder length black hair flowed down, mingling with Dante’s own full head of black hair, the boundaries between the two blurring. The ends of the longest strands ticked Dante’s nearly shaven chin, but even that didn’t make him seem better.
“What was it I said wrong?” Dante sighed, pausing his polishing. Jadwiga began to answer, but Dante kept talking. “I know dueling isn’t his favorite subject, but he should be able to talk about something related to sports. I know he runs every day, and I hear he’s quite good at swimming as well. Swimming’s a fine sport.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the dueling,” Jadwiga supplied. Dante knew she was trying to get him to arrive at the answer himself, but that hint just made the whole situation more confusing. That only left the sports, but why the sports? Caden seemed to enjoy them, even if he preferred the library in his free time.
Jadwiga could see the confusing clear on Dante’s face. She bent forward, kissing his forehead and letting her hair fall like a curtain behind her, blocking everything else. “How do you do this so well?” Dante asked. That only made Jadwiga chuckle. “What?”
“You think I’m doing well?” Jadwiga asked. “I’ve been so worried about our little Catarina…” the words ‘ever since my near miscarriage’ didn’t need to be spoken, “…I know I haven’t been able to give Caden as much attention as I used to.”
Dante chuckled. “Yet, you’re still a better parent than I,” he glumly mused.
“Don’t say that!” Jadwiga exclaimed. “You have an entire nation to worry about. If I can’t care for two children in the face of that what does that say about me?”
Now it was Dante’s turn to give her a kiss. “You are doing just fine.” Jadwiga gave out a wistful sigh, before going back to her earlier spot on top of his head. “If it wasn’t about the dueling, then what was it about?”
“That’s something you need to figure out on your own,” Jadwiga answered, “If you ever want to understand him.”
Dante simply sighed.
King Dante Emil Soleil Della Rosa II, Sovereign of Franerre, Shield of Her People, Defender of the Foa Restoration and Mordred’s Revolution, stood in front of a training dummy. A dueling blade was in his hand, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He struck again, and again. The King spared a glance to the watch on his arm. 5:50 pm, ten more minutes. Ten more minutes. Dante struck again. Again. Again. He fell into that steady, soothing rhythm of swordplay that he knew so well. There was no Franerre, no squabblings of the National Chamber, no Kumosenkan and Galra at his border, nothing but himself and the blade. Just how he’d always wanted it.
Thwack. Thwack thwack.
Dante went for an overhead strike at the dummy, the blade sinking into the cloth. He pulled out and whirled around for a strike at the dummy’s side, striking harder than what was good for the blade. Dante didn’t care. The exertion was good, it helped him focus. It helped to calm Dante too, both the exercise themselves and the fact that he always made time for them everyday at the end of his work day. He had to, or else Dante would have gone insane during his nine years of rule. Had it been nine years already? It seemed like his coronation was only yesterday, the tragedy that claimed his brother still fresh in his mind.
Thwack. Thwack thwack.
The thoughts left his mind nearly as soon as they entered. One of the benefits of swordplay, Dante mused. Most sports of other types of physical exertion could accomplish the same. He lunged for the dummy’s chest, aimed directly where his heart would be. Dante knew it was a perfect stab as the rapier in his hand sank a few inches into the cloth. This was why he loved the blade so much. Because he was good at it. The pen may have been mightier than the sword, but the sword felt so much more right in his hands. Dante longed to be able to modernize Franerre with the turn of his blade, stab Kumosenkan with the tip of his rapier and slash the throat of Galra with the ease he did the training dummy. But it was only time, luck, and the stroke of the damnable pen that could do that.
Thwack. Thwack th-
Knock knock knock.
Dante paused, his blade centimeters from striking the dummy a third time. He panted hard, forehead sheen with sweat, his blade unmoving. The knocks came again. “Come in,” Dante said, sheathing the blade and turning towards the door.
“Your Highness,” Zachary said with a bow. Zachary was the head of the palace staff, a short man with the barest hint of a stomach who was just beginning to show the balding head and wrinkles of his age. Dante didn’t need to be told it was 6:00 pm on the hour, the pair had been through the daily routine enough for Dante to know it by heart. He looked longingly towards the dummy, before leaving the palace’s gymnasium. Time waited for no man, after all.
Dante walked through the palace complex, letting his mind dwell on the building rather than more pressing matters. The building had finished construction in 1784, after the Foa Restoration had removed the Lusatian colonial regime from Franerre. The palace’s central building was large, with smaller buildings serving as quarters for the staff, stables, grarages, and storage. The entire complex itself sat on 4 acres in the heart of Pareau, most of which were opulent gardens that could be seen from the palace’s many windows. Those same windows gave Dante a view of the setting sun, the last rays of light glinting over the bay. The electric lights would be turning on soon, but the palace could still be lit by the sun for a few more minutes.
‘A funny thing that is,’ Dante thought as he neared his destination. On his few trips to Lusatia, everyone there had taken electricity for granted. Here in Franerre? Pareau was the most electrified city in the nation, and still the poorer half of the city used candles and kerosene lamps. Any further thoughts were interrupted by Dante’s arrival to the baths. Dinner was served at 6:45 pm, and a quick check of the watch revealed he had 41 minutes to take his bath. While the prepared hot water of the baths certainly did wonders for Dante’s muscles, it didn’t soothe his mind the same way swordplay did. Without the constant exertion of working out, it allowed Dante’s mind to wander back to the events that led him here. Dante didn’t know if that was better or worse than dwelling on his kingship or his current work. If he tried to put his mind on something else, Dante knew those were the only other place it would go.
Before he was King, Dante Emil Soleil Della Rosa was the third of his father’s five children. He’d never expected to be King: Louis VII, his father, was in good health. Leo was naturally charismatic, and he had a way of surrounding himself with the best talent in the nation. Toussaint was a prodigy at statecraft, even if he could be hard headed. Dante, by contrast, only really cared about the sword and his sports as a child. He still paid more attention to the tutors than Nicholas, who only came to half of the lessons. That was still more than Anne-Marie ever got, Louis VII never considering a woman fit for leadership.
Leo died right before he turned twenty from an accident at sea. It was certainly a loss for the throne, but Toussaint was still there to take his place when he came of age. That time would come soon enough as Louis VII would die two years later, the man not quite as invincible as every child saw his father. Toussaint, now King Toussaint Nìnés Lune Della Rosa I, had insisted Dante learn more about politics and statecraft. Just as before, Dante had made an attempt at paying attention, but he never really cared. How much of a fool he’d been. Dante had spent his early adult life making his way through the Franerri dueling circuit. Nicholas only ever cared for his wine bottle, and Anne-Marie had married some Lusatian noble. Perhaps she’d had the best lot of the three.
Dante’s mind settled on the happy memories he’d made during those years of Toussaint’s rule. He had started from the bottom, but soon rose through the Franerri dueling circuit. With his limited public appearances as the King Louis VII’s son, and later King Toussaint’s brother, Dante was able to keep his identity a secret, lest anyone throw the match because he was royalty. No, Dante had earned his titles and trophies through blood, sweat, and tears. Perhaps he’d never been the best duelist in Franerre, but he was damn good.
As he opened his eyes, Dante knew his memories were gone for the time being. It was best that they ended there. He got out of the bath and dried himself off, beginning the process of dressing himself in the fine clothes that constrained the King. Dante much preferred the loose silk shirt he wore when working out. But Dante knew that if he slouched now, then one day he would lapse on some part of his kingly duties in public. That would be disrespectful to the memory of all of the great Franerri Kings who came before him, but more importantly, the memory of Toussaint.
~
King Dante Emil Soleil Della Rosa II, Sovereign of Franerre, Shield of Her People, Defender of the Foa Restoration and Mordred’s Revolution, sat down at the dining table. It was 6:40 pm, dinner ready in five minutes. King Dante sat at the table’s head, his son Caden to his right and his wife Jadwiga. Queen Jadwiga Kainé Gwiazda Della Rosa was the daughter of old Lusatian colonial nobility who had integrated and were now the owners of one of the largest mining companies in the nation, with many important political and business ties back to the home country. She was the perfect confluence of important enough to marry and a woman the King could actually love. Jadwiga wasn’t perfect for him, and King Dante had half a dozen royal bastards with women he still cared for in some deep part of his heart before he actually became King, but the pair made it work.
Caden, though. Prince Caden was 8 years old, born a year after King Dante had been crowned and he and Queen Jadwiga had married. The King knew that if he continued the trend of his older brothers, that would leave the Kingdom to Nicholas, which could not happen under any circumstances. That, combined with the fact that back then he was still very much the man who had half a dozen royal bastards that had to be clearly swept under the rug, had led to Prince Caden’s birth. King Dante loved his son, but there were many things in life he just did not know how to do, and fatherhood was one of them. He had been ok with it at the time, because Queen Jadwiga had picked up the slack of parenting.
But now, Queen Jadwiga spent most of her time doting over the little princess, Catarina Della Rosa. Thankfully, she had been laid down for a nap just before the meal, so King Dante had Jadwiga for now. That left the burden of parenting to the King most of the time. And yet, when he was already burdened by the weight of a nation, the time of one little boy seemed so insignificant, even if it was his own flesh and blood. Catarina was two now, and it had only been a year ago when King Dante had tried to start making more time for his son. One hour, every day. He wanted to spend more time with his son, but he hardly knew what to do with the hour he allotted himself, much less anymore than that. In that year, King Dante was ashamed and astounded at what little headway he’d made.
King Dante’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the food. Had it been five minutes already? The man sighed. He had been lost in his thoughts again, as he so often was. When you lived in the palace for so long, it was easy to ignore the bustling of the staff as they passed. There would even be those coming and going through the meal, but the King hardly made conscious note of them. Did Caden say anything during that time that King Dante had missed? No, Jadwiga would have kicked his leg under the table. Taking a close look at his child, King Dante saw that he appeared to be staring off into space, lost in his own head. He'd inherited something from his old man, at least. Prince Caden was a bit slower to realize it was time for dinner, just now exiting from his own head. The King didn’t know whether he should be proud Caden had inherited that or not.
After saying a quick Catholic prayer, the family began to eat. “How have the studies been going?” King Dante asked between bites.
“Good,” was Caden’s one-word response. Did Caden just not feel like talking to his father, or was that his naturally quiet nature showing?
“Did you finish that book you were reading?” Jadwiga chimed in. That’s right, King Dante had seen the boy with a book on a few occasions. It looked like the name escaped both him and Jadwiga at the moment, though.
Caden perked up at that comment, looking up from his plate. “The Black Claw?” King Dante struggled with the name for a moment, before remembering it was a Marrlaner import. Lehran had recommended it, if the King remembered correctly. “I just finished it yesterday.”
“Really now? What was it about?” King Dante asked. He was never the most interested in books as a child, they overlapped too much with the tutors for his taste. Still, King Dante knew how important it would be to listen to this conversation. Politics and parenting had that in common.
“It’s about the formation of the beasthunters.” Caden put an air of awe and mystique on the last word, the excitement dripping from his voice, Dante found himself naturally paying attention even if the King had no idea who they were. He nodded along anyway. “In the end of the book, in the aftermath of Captain Richards killing the Enigma Shell, he went on to found the beasthunters to kill anything else that could show up from the deep ocean.”
‘Well, it’s a good thing such creatures don’t exist in real life,’ King Dante thought. He didn’t know what an Enigma Shell was, but judging by how it apparently took an entire book to kill one, it wasn’t anything good.
“I can’t believe this is a real piece of Marrlaner history! I’d love to go and see Harbaville someday.” Caden was practically beaming, while the King was glad he didn’t voice his earlier thoughts. That comment did give Dante some pause though. He tried to schedule trips to Lusatia at least once a year, to just get away from it all in Pareau. Could he go to Marrlan sometime? Something to squirrel away for later.
King Dante waited for Caden or Jadwiga to continue the conversation, but neither did. What to talk about? He didn’t want to talk about his work, and asking Jadwiga how Catarina was would only drive Caden from the conversation. King Dante knew that Caden didn’t have the most interest in physical activity like he did, but the boy kept in good shape and it was a topic the King could at least talk about. “So, have any sports taken your interest lately? You know my offer to hire my old dueling trainer is always open.”
King Dante knew he’d said something wrong even before he saw how Caden looked away, thanks to a well placed kick to his shin from Jadwiga. The King knew that Caden had been disinterested in the offer before, but he’d never reacted like that before. He could ask about books again, but he didn’t know if that would salvage the situation or just be too pathetic an attempt to fix the situation. Pressing the subject would be even worse than that.
“How are you liking the meal so far, Caden?” Jadwiga asked, saving the entire family from an awkward situation. The conversation picked up again after that, but it never had the same energy as it did at the beginning. It was rote, routine. The meal finished soon after that. It was 7:30 pm. Caden went to his room, and the King let him. Just because he scheduled an hour for the boy didn’t mean King Date often used the full time. Perhaps, one day, they’d get a full hour.
~
Dante was polishing his dueling rapier in his room when Jadwiga entered. She had probably just finished her last checkup of Catarina. Dante sighed, and his wife placed her hands on his shoulder, resting her head on his. Jadwiga’s shoulder length black hair flowed down, mingling with Dante’s own full head of black hair, the boundaries between the two blurring. The ends of the longest strands ticked Dante’s nearly shaven chin, but even that didn’t make him seem better.
“What was it I said wrong?” Dante sighed, pausing his polishing. Jadwiga began to answer, but Dante kept talking. “I know dueling isn’t his favorite subject, but he should be able to talk about something related to sports. I know he runs every day, and I hear he’s quite good at swimming as well. Swimming’s a fine sport.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the dueling,” Jadwiga supplied. Dante knew she was trying to get him to arrive at the answer himself, but that hint just made the whole situation more confusing. That only left the sports, but why the sports? Caden seemed to enjoy them, even if he preferred the library in his free time.
Jadwiga could see the confusing clear on Dante’s face. She bent forward, kissing his forehead and letting her hair fall like a curtain behind her, blocking everything else. “How do you do this so well?” Dante asked. That only made Jadwiga chuckle. “What?”
“You think I’m doing well?” Jadwiga asked. “I’ve been so worried about our little Catarina…” the words ‘ever since my near miscarriage’ didn’t need to be spoken, “…I know I haven’t been able to give Caden as much attention as I used to.”
Dante chuckled. “Yet, you’re still a better parent than I,” he glumly mused.
“Don’t say that!” Jadwiga exclaimed. “You have an entire nation to worry about. If I can’t care for two children in the face of that what does that say about me?”
Now it was Dante’s turn to give her a kiss. “You are doing just fine.” Jadwiga gave out a wistful sigh, before going back to her earlier spot on top of his head. “If it wasn’t about the dueling, then what was it about?”
“That’s something you need to figure out on your own,” Jadwiga answered, “If you ever want to understand him.”
Dante simply sighed.