The Vampire & Her Witch

Chapter 1683: Assembling for the Feast (Part Two)

Liam Dunn and his family’s entourage were the first lords to arrive at the Great Hall in the dim hour just before dawn, and when he did, he found an exhausted-looking Hugo slumped in the corner on a pile of cushions and furs. There was a slate tablet beside him and a piece of chalk in his hands, and he looked like he’d only intended to close his eyes for ’a few minutes’ before exhaustion finally overtook him.

"Hugo," Liam called, crossing the hall in a few quick strides to reach his companion’s side. As he did, he marveled at the transformation the man had wrought in just a single long night. "Hugo, it’s almost dawn," Liam said as he knelt at the exhausted Steward’s side.

"I’m awake, I am, I swear," Hugo blurted as he all but jumped out of his skin at the sound of Liam’s voice. The chalk in his hand went skittering across the room, bouncing off of bare stone for a few paces before it landed with a soft -plunk- on an overstuffed cushion.

"Hugo, it’s fine, it’s fine," Liam said gently as he helped the disheveled scholar to his feet. "We came early in case someone needed to help set the tone," he explained as he turned back toward Hugo’s arrangement and let out a low whistle of appreciation. "I just didn’t expect that the tone we’d be setting would be quite so... different."

"I, I have a chart," Hugo said as he handed over the slate covered in small, neat markings. "Lady Ashlynn’s coven, the barons and their spouses at the Center Table, then I tried to scatter the knights and their families around the room so no table holds more than two vassals to the same lord," he explained. "And there are buffers between them, so they can’t cluster across tables..."

"Smart," Loghlan Dunn said as he and Mairwen joined the pair of younger men. "But what’s all this," he added, gesturing to the hastily modified tables and the unusual seating arrangements. "Is this a custom of Blackwell that I didn’t know about?"

"It’s an Eldritch custom, Father," Liam explained. "From the lands beyond the Vale of Mists. The tables are low to the ground so everyone can sit on cushions instead of chairs... It’s more comfortable for the Scaled Clan, um, the ones you would have called ’Serpent Demons’ before," Liam said awkwardly.

"Still, it feels like you’ve gone a bit further than just cushions and low tables for everyone, Hugo," Liam pointed out.

"I can only make the hall so warm," Hugo said, gesturing to the four hearths that provided much of the Great Hall’s warmth. On a cold winter day like today, however, there was very little that could be done to remove the chill from the stones, especially when so many of the tapestries had to be taken down because they were displays of Lothian victories over their Eldritch foes.

"So everyone gets their own blanket and fur throw," Mairwen said, smiling and nodding in approval. "It’s more like a young lady’s sleepover than a proper court gathering. I approve," she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she imagined the reaction of the other lords. "Though I imagine not everyone will."

"It’s just furniture and seats," Liam said with a hearty chuckle. "If they can’t manage this much change, then they won’t be able to weather the storm Lady Ashlynn is about to unleash. Better to see who can adapt and who can’t now than to be surprised by it later."

"Hugo, I’m impressed," Liam said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "I didn’t think you had this level of scheming in you."

"It’s not scheming," Hugo protested. "I just, I just wanted to do things the way Lady Ashlynn would have wanted them done, even if she wasn’t here to give the orders herself."

"I think she’d approve," Ollie said as he escorted his parents into the hall, along with Cynwrig, the rest of the Stormbrooks and Lady Eira.

Ollie looked a little out of place in his borrowed tunic and trousers; the shade of lavender that Cynwrig favored didn’t quite complement the Cypress Knight’s flame-red hair or the working man’s tan that still hadn’t faded from summer, but it was in considerably better shape than the clothing he’d arrived in.

"Did I hear that there’s a seating chart?" Ollie asked. "Can you make space for my mother and father?"

"They can join us, if it isn’t too much trouble," Cynwrig said as he craned his head forward to peek at the chart, hoping that there was a reasonable space for the servants to set Cerys down. He’d refused to leave her behind for an occasion as important as this, even if she had to be carried here on a litter, but looking at the low, comfortable cushions, he couldn’t help but smile in delight.

"Ah, there should be plenty of space," Hugo said quickly as he examined his notes. "I have you with Captain Devlin and some of the other men from Blackwell..."

Ollie smiled as he watched Hugo get to work settling everyone in place. The entourage from Fayle hadn’t been far behind them in the corridors, and more of the march’s great families were already on their way. Soon, the entire hall would be filled with people and each of them would find themselves caught up in Hugo’s arrangements before they even realized they’d been schemed against.

"Ma, Pa," Ollie said, holding his parents’ hands tightly for a moment once he’d walked them to their table. "I wish I could sit with you but..."

"We know, Son," Jamys said with a proud smile on his lips. "You’ve become a big, important person now, and you won’t have much time for us. Don’t fret. His lordship, Sir Cynwrig, has already made us feel at home, so we’ll just stay with him while you do what needs doing," he said before pulling his son into a fierce, fatherly hug, joined moments later by Lilee’s tight embrace.

By the time Ollie made it to the Center Table to take his seat, half the hall had already filled in, though not without a few complaints.

"What do you mean my seat isn’t at the Center Table?" Valeri Leufroy fumed as he prodded Hugo’s chest with a finger as though it were a knife. "I see my banner hanging here," he snarled, gesturing to the banner hanging on one wall. "So why is it that I’m to sit at the farthest end of a table and not with the other lords of the realm?"

"That, that’s because the Leufroy seat at the Center Table belongs to someone, someone else," Hugo said, clenching his hands into fists as he struggled to resist the pressure from a baron who felt so very similar to his father in this moment that they could have traded clothes.

"The Leufroy seat belongs to Lady Adala," Hugo said, startling the young woman who had only recently arrived in the company of Sir Elgon and the knights of Blackwell whom Isabell had sent her to stay with for the night.

"You, you chose your seat yourself, last night, Lord Valeri," Hugo said, standing up as straight as he could. "And so did Lady Leufroy," he added, inclining his head toward the young girl who found herself thrust forward to the center of attention.

"That’s ridiculous," Valeri Leufroy fumed. "Did Lady Ashlynn order this?"

"No," a commanding, feminine voice replied from the entrance to the hall. "But I very much approve," Ashlynn said in a tone that felt sharper than any knife. "Unless you have a problem with my arrangements, Lord Valeri? I’m sure we can find a way to put any of our disagreements to rest," she said as the last of the warmth drained from her eyes.

"N-no, no problems, y-your Grace," the aging lord stammered as he looked into her piercing emerald eyes, remembering the way she’d put her ’disagreement’ with Owain Lothian to rest the night before. "But my Adala is a little young for heavy topics," he added, as he made a final attempt to regain some ground. "Perhaps I should sit next to her to advise..."

"I’m certain that Baroness Mairwen can advise her well," Ashlynn interrupted before turning away from the sputtering baron to approach the young woman who had suddenly inherited far more than just her father’s seat at the table.

"Lady Adala," Ashlynn said warmly. "I’m glad to have you with us this morning. Come, since Jocey wasn’t feeling up to joining us this morning, you can take her seat beside me..."