The Margraves Court

If it was torture to stand then the action of dressing himself was absolute purgatory. Every movement reminded Yuji how recently he had been injured. Supposedly he had been asleep for a month and should have been very near healed by now, a message not given to this new body. Mirk assured him that another month’s recuperation with aid from a healer would be enough to bring him back to ready shape, but as the new possessor of the body he begged to differ.

Within the chest at the end of the bed Yuji found suitable clothing. Finding them more technical to don then jeans and a t-shirt, he required Mirk’s instruction to equip them.

“Is there a mirror here?” Yuji asked feeling awkward in the houppelande and chausses, the sudden sense of self-consciousness recalling a memory of when his mother insisted that they have a family photoshoot the last time they were all in Japan. They were to wear kimono and she had booked a popular site in Fukuoka. At the time he had felt like a tourist playing pretend. In retrospect, it seemed silly in comparison with his current situation.

“Just there on the desk. It is not large but if you stand back, you should be able to appreciate the figure my master cuts when dressed for court.”

The first thing he saw when he looked in the mirror was his new face. Handsome, young, and of such an inhuman paleness he wondered if this body was allowed to ever appreciate the sun.

His vitamin D levels must be at basement level.

Running a hand through the thick black hair he was pleased to see that the medieval influence had spared this one feature, its length and style resembling something more modern and familiar, despite its unnatural undertone of deep blue. The eyes were also familiar, though more rounded than his own, their deep navy color seeming to hide little silver specks all throughout them.

In general, Yuji had never thought himself ugly, his parents had managed to produce perfect Asian and White mixed children, with just enough of both to be designer without going over in either direction, but there was something about the look of Till Bastion that was so sharply romance novel aristocrat it was almost disturbing.

Standing back, he took in the rest of the form. His general figure was hidden in the folds of the black silk houppelande, but even through this he could catch the sleekness of the figure and was not incapable of feeling its strength and agility through the pain. It was no wonder the body had been able to save him that first night, its rightful owner had sculpted it into something very near a masterpiece.

Sorry Till, I’m slender but more naturally so then anything.

“He is striking is he not?” Mirk sat visibly pleased, his indefinite aura shifting like a mood ring.

“Yes, he is very handsome, and I think taller than I was. So, being objective, while not being to overly critical, do you think I can pull this off?”

“Just do as we discussed, and everything will go well.”

A knot twisted in his gut causing it to go sour, the bland meal of porridge and wild strawberries, which seemed to be the only type of fare offered to him, sitting rather more north than he might have liked.

“Follow me and remember how I told you to behave.”

“I’ll remember.”

Mirk opened the door, shutting it behind them. When they were out in the expansive hall, he was struck by the cloudy gloom that had somehow seemed so much brighter in his room, as well as the thick level of humidity.

The walls of the hall were bright white, reflecting what little exterior lighting the world had to give from the windows that led down into a grand courtyard. Stone floors stretched out endlessly ahead of them, and paths broke off every fifteen feet. Not wanting to get lost Yuji kept his attention strictly on the yellow back of the mongoose, hardly perceiving when they turned, descended stairs, or entered a new hall. It felt as if he were moving through a directional maze and if he turned the wrong way or lost sight of Mirk he would have to restart at the beginning. The creaking complaints of this worn-down body added to the tenuousness of the moment.

Eventually they arrived at the great hall. It’s gaudiness so suppressive Yuji couldn’t stop feeling as if he had accidently walked into a five-start resort he wouldn’t have been able to afford in his previous life. There were frescos painted on the vaulted ceiling, huge elaborate tapestries hung on the whitewashed walls with rich wainscoting floating to meet them. On the floor woven red runners covered the polished stone that glittered in the light from impossible chandeliers bristling with flame.

Mirk had warned Yuji that Margrave Idwal Bastian of Gloam’s rank was in no way reflective of his power or wealth. The hall was cluttered with well-dressed nobility. At the far end, like a king on a throne, sat the Margrave all dressed in red and gold silk, his figure and appearance dark and imperious. Beside him in opulent luxury sat the Margravine adorned in royal purple.

The room fell horribly silent when Lord Till was announced and Yuji, in his body, was graced with the full force of the distaste its previous owner had to endure every day of his short life. Despite being adorned in silk he was the least well-dressed among the nobles, the quality and ornateness of the others making the harsh black houppelande look like stiff modern-day quilters cotton. Though he matched the people in general appearance he still somehow stood out, like a sentence highlighted in yellow on a page. There was something about him that was different than them all, something uncanny and difficult to perceive with the naked eye.

There was one time in Yuji’s previous life where he felt he had thoroughly embarrassed himself. It was in his tenth-grade speech class. He was partnered with a girl he had thought before the assignment beautiful, but after it a nightmare. They were supposed to give a speech on the benefits of water destalinization for coastal cities. It was decided that he would do all the research and information compiling and she would write the speech. Needless to say, he did his part, but she didn’t do hers. When she called in sick the day of the presentation and admitted to not completing her half of the work, he was the one left with the memory of a room full of unforgiving high school students snickering at him, as well as a grade that showed the teachers share in the amusement. That memory, one he treasured as his near worst, paled in comparison to this moment.

Yuji bowed before the barrel-chested margrave and his pinched first lady ready for the calamity brought on by his first true blunder as the unwanted and unloved child of a powerful man.

“Kneel.” A deep voice boomed from the wide chest of the margrave, seemingly ordering the entire room to do so.

The whistle he had blown, Mirk informed him, was only to be used sparingly and in a particular set of short sequences for signaling. When used correctly it would sound like a bird call. At night they were to use the one hidden within the right bracer, in the morning they were to use the one in the left. If it wasn’t bad enough that he had used it as he thought whistles were supposed to be used, from other worldly knowledge, he had used the wrong one for the time of day.

“You need only take a knee,” Mirk instructed, “Don’t raise your head. Let your left shin rest against the ground. Till is right-handed, its common to kneel only on the nondominant knee. Put your hands on your raised knee, left hand beneath right.”

Yuji was quick with the action, the bristling fear of his own up and coming demise giving him enough energy to make the movement surprisingly elegant for how hot and angry his limbs were.

“You are aware you have committed a great crime against your oath as a member of the Bastian Vanguard? You allowed yourself the luxury of putting yourself and those with you to be endangered by your actions while performing a duty to the Centauri Seren. Did you think your position as one of my offspring would save you from punishment?”

Yuji’s heart palpitated.

“Remain calm and cold, and repeat what I instructed you last night.” Mirk sat close at his side, his own body rigid.

“You are just and right in your charges, my lord. As a member of the House of Bastion, a representative of the margrave’s direct family, and as the captain of the vanguard, I used the harrowing call to alert my position improperly. I allowed myself to be overcome by circumstance and injuries while in service, despite knowing the purpose of my mission and without considering my sworn honor and duty.”

There was more murmuring than he had anticipated, it was so active at one point that his skin bristled with it. It came to a level where Yuji found his words eclipsed and was forced to fall silent.

This is absurd. How was I supposed to know how to use the stupid thing? Why did I have to get thrown into a body with such a complicated life?

The margrave allowed the verbal outrage for a time and then hushed the crowd with a single gesture of his great hand, sharp dull gray eyes on his son’s bowed head so intent Yuji could feel them through his hair.

“Though my actions now cannot of themselves restore my honor,” he continued, “I have come as soon as physically able to leave my sick bed, to accept and receive punishment for my misconduct and restore my honor. I beg you, punish me my lord for my crimes.”

Yuji kept his head down, kneeling before them for a humiliating period of ten noiseless minutes. The newly healed bones and wounds threatened with reproach to reopen and shatter if he continued the strain of attempting to remain perfectly still. His left knee in particular kept producing a pain akin to a guitar string being habitually plucked and then slapped. He had watched shows where the protagonists had been punished to kneel for hours at a time, it was a pleasure he had never wanted and sourly wish he could return to having no context for.

I am sure wherever Till is there can’t be any love lost over such a family.

“Shall I show you mercy, considering all you’ve undergone? You are after all my own blood.” There was no love or fondness in the expression, instead withering contempt stood behind it, emphasizing the rhetorical nature of the question.

“Father, permit me to make an argument.” This voice was masculine in a high aristocratic way. Yuji glanced vaguely in its direction catching sight of red leather boots and the hem of an ornate orange houppelande.

“You hear the voice of my master’s eldest brother Lord Halius. He is the least artful of the two, but equally unpleasant and conniving as the other. He knows he is not on the same level as Lord Dain and knows it is unlikely that he will succeed his father. So, to appear useful to Lord Dain, instead of playing knight, he chose the role of the statesmen.” Mirk sounded irritable.

“Proceed.” The margrave’s tone had a disquieting edge to it.

“All can understand your desire to show mercy to Lord Till, your own son, from your dear consort Lady Ordelia. I myself feel conflicted over his situation as well. My dear younger brother has always been exemplary as the head of the vanguard. In all his behavior he has never given cause to reproach his service toward my lord under any circumstances. However, it must not be forgotten that within the oath he swore upon blood and in the signing over of his own name in service of my lord the Margrave of Gloam, and the king for that matter, he made a vow to follow the tenants of the Bastion Vanguard. To violate those tenants by calling out to save his own life and forget his duty because of what could only be assumed to be a contrived fantom common to the forest, and while holding such a high position is a dereliction of duty. If he were not your son and only an average member of the vanguard he would be rightly punished for this misdeed no matter his condition. To show him mercy now, I fear, would give the wrong impression and promote insubordination or worse.”

Yuji felt the knot in his stomach convulse.

“A slow death would be too kind for such as he.” Mirk’s aura was dark and cloudy, Yuji could almost see it in his periphery.

“Does Lord Halius speak for all here? If there are no alternative positions, then I am left to assume that his opinion is that of the court.”

Oh crap. This wasn’t supposed to go like this.

“Whatever you do, show no pain. You must not react to anything, least it draw you nearer to your end. Physical weakness is more a crime here then cowardice.” Mirk warned.

There has to be some movie reference, some book, something, some spark of anything that will give me some clue as to how to avoid this. Yuji remained perfectly still.

“I disagree with Lord Halius!” A young feminine voice called from the far back of the hall. There was something about the way she spoke that sent a shiver up Yuji’s spine. “I wish to speak!”