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“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Ferdinand,” said Lord Arundel. One of his servants pulled out a chair. “I apologize for it being on such short notice.”
Ferdinand gave a quiet chuckle and sat down. “That is quite alright. I would never pass up an opportunity for tea.”
The servant placed down a platter of sandwiches and pastries, then the tea set itself before leaving. A sweet, tart scent filled the air, one Ferdinand knew immediately to be pomegranate and raspberry.
He smiled. “That is southern fruit blend, is it not? I would recognize that divine aroma anywhere.”
“Correct,” Arundel said, lifting the teapot. Ruby-red liquid poured out of the spout, steam rising from the cup. “I was informed it was your favorite.”
Ferdinand raised the cup to his lips. He took a sip, relishing the warm, fruity taste. “And who told you so?”
Arundel drew his lips up into a smug smile. “That is my secret to keep.”
Ferdinand took another sip. Perhaps one of the kitchen staff had told him. From what Ferdinand remembered, Lord Arundel preferred to drink wine, meaning it was likely he would have needed to ask for advice. “So then. Why have you called me here? You are not one for tea parties.”
“There is something I wish to discuss with you,” he said. He clasped his hands beneath his chin. “Tell me. When was the last time you saw my darling niece?”
“One week ago,” Ferdinand said. “I was going to ask if you knew where she is. I know she finds me to be daft, but that is hardly reason for her to avoid me this long.”
Arundel frowned. “I see. So you are also unaware of her whereabouts.”
How odd, Ferdinand thought. Surely the Emperor would not avoid her own uncle. “You do not know where she is either?”
“I have my suspicions.” Arundel glanced around the room, then locked right into Ferdinand’s eyes. Never before had Ferdinand noticed how hawk-like his gaze was. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Do not tell anyone this, but I believe she has been abducted.”
Ferdinand’s blood ran cold. His grip quavered. A drop of tea spilled over the edge of the cup, staining the tablecloth below crimson. "I beg your pardon?”
Arundel leaned back into his chair. “Kidnapped. Abducted. Spirited away.”
Ferdinand placed down his cup. The jam-filled pastries before him turned sickeningly sweet. What a shame— he’d been looking forward to those all day. “You do not suspect I am involved, do you? I swear, I would never do such a thing.”
“No, not at all,” Arundel said, waving his hand dismissively. “But you are the only one I trust with this information. If any word of this spread, I fear our enemies would use it to their advantage.”
Right, Ferdinand thought. The Faerghan Rebellion was already getting bolder. News of a potential power vacuum would only embolden them further. “Do you suspect this is their doing?”
“No,” said Arundel. “I believe the culprit is much closer to home.”
Ferdinand gripped the table tight. Arundel delivered the news with such nonchalance. Not a single line of worry creased his face. “And who, pray tell, do you suspect?”
The corner of Lord Arundel’s mouth twitched. “I have reason to believe Lord Vestra is involved in this.”
“Hubert?” The name burst out of Ferdinand’s mouth. “That cannot be right. Hubert is her most faithful servant. He may as well be her very shadow. For him to do such a thing would be preposterous.”
“But think, Ferdinand,” Arundel said, almost purred. “He would be the only one close enough to her to pull such a feat. No one else would come close before he cut them down. He would not hesitate to cut me down if it came to such a thing.”
Ferdinand gazed down into his tea. His red-tinged reflection stared back. “But you are the Emperor’s last remaining family. Surely he would have to hear your plea.”
“Of course he wouldn’t,” Arundel said. “Aren’t you aware of what happened to the old Marquis Vestra?”
Ferdinand thrust his rapier forth, the tip just meeting Hubert’s chest. His lantern’s flame set a ghastly glow upon Hubert’s face. "What have you done with Lady Edelgard?"
Hubert scoffed, phlegm rattling in his throat. "Ferdinand, you daft..." He pushed the blade down with his fingertips. "Do you really think I of all people would harm Lady Edelgard?"
“I have been watching you, Hubert," Ferdinand said, eyebrows narrowing. He raised his blade once more and began to circle. “How you slink around the halls of the palace, steal from the kitchens, meet with strange figures…”
Hubert rolled his eyes. "As if that is any different from what I have done before."
Ferdinand faltered. “You are the only one who can get close enough to the Emperor. Who else could have stolen her away?”
“I can think of one person,” Hubert sneered. “Be truthful, Ferdinand. Who set you in my direction?”
“Lord Arundel himself.”
Hubert’s face twisted into a scowl. The low light sharpened his expression. He muttered curses under his breath, each growing in intensity. “Of course he would involve you in this.”
Ferdinand’s heart leapt. “So you are complicit!”
“Just as much as he,” Hubert sighed. “And I recommend you hear my side of the story before you enact your vengeance.”
“And why should I?” Ferdinand snapped. “You have just admitted to kidnapping the Emperor. I cannot think of a higher form of treason!”
Hubert laughed, high and mighty. “Well, you are curious as to what has transpired, are you not? Killing me would leave you without answers.”
“I do not need your lies,” said Ferdinand. The point of his rapier pricked Hubert’s skin, drawing a drop of blood. “I need to find Lady Edelgard.”
“But if you kill me now, who, then, will lead you to her?” Hubert took a gloved hand and pushed against the wall. His hand sank back, and beside it, the wall parted, the dreadful screech of stone against stone filling the hall. Ferdinand’s skin crawled. He gulped, a futile attempt to calm his frayed nerves.
"Come, Ferdinand,” Hubert said. “I can shield you from the truth no longer."
Hubert lead Ferdinand down a series of twisting stairs and corridors, each with less light than before. The faint rush of water grew and grew, until it seemed as if it was right beneath them. A horrid stench assaulted Ferdinand’s nostrils, one of rot and vomit. He held back a gag and pinched his nose. “Are we in the sewers?”
“Yes,” said Hubert, his voice nasal in tone. “Even I cannot stand the scent of this place.”
They followed the current downstream until they reached a door. Ferdinand muttered a silent prayer. His fingers trembled, reaching for the hilt of his rapier just in case. A jolt ran up his spine when Hubert turned the knob. The door opened with a slow, drawn-out creak.
Ferdinand swallowed back bile. He had been naive to take matters into his own hands. He had been naive to follow Hubert. He had been naive to believe Lord Arundel, even if he had been right. And now he would pay with his life.
“Please, enter,” Hubert said. “But know what lies beyond will change your life.”
Ferdinand swallowed and stepped forth.
A plethora of candles lit the room, surrounding a bed in the center. Edelgard lay there, sound asleep. Strange black-grey scales lined her unnaturally pale cheeks. They continued down her body, tendrils snaking around her neck and above her clothes. Where her right shoulder should have been was a big, black appendage resembling a three-pronged wing. An orb sat in the center, its red glow fading back and forth. The corruption engulfed her arm down to her once-delicate fingertips.
Ferdinand’s blood ran cold. The air rushed out of his lungs. His knees buckled, and he sank, his vision fading away. Hubert dropped his lantern and caught Ferdinand by the arms. A metallic clang echoed alongside the buzzing in Ferdinand’s ears.
Ferdinand gasped for breath. “What have you done to Lady Edelgard?”
“I did not do this,” said Hubert, guiding Ferdinand to a nearby armchair. “I would never wish this upon her, nor do I even have the capability. Only those of an ancient evil can conjure this.”
Ferdinand sank into the chair. His senses crept back to him. “And who would allow this to happen?”
Hubert scowled. "Your father, Ferdinand. Your father allowed, no, willed this to happen."
"You lie," Ferdinand said, still panting for air. "He would not… could not…”
"Tell me, Ferdinand,” Hubert sneered. “Do you remember where your father was after the insurrection? When all the Hresvelg children succumbed to an unknown illness?"
Tears welled in Ferdinand’s eyes. "He was in Enbarr, helping to set up the new administration. His letters said he steered clear of the royal family's quarters. That he feared catching their sickness."
"Not a complete lie, but not the whole truth either." Hubert picked up his lantern. “The Hresvelg children were never in their quarters. They were imprisoned beneath the palace, subject to terrible experiments authorized by your father. I could go on, but it is not my story to tell.”
Silence.
Ferdinand fell apart to silence.
“So that is why she hated him so.” He sat up in the chair, his vision clear yet broken. “Why did you not tell me sooner?”
Hubert shot his head around, a big, smug smile plastered on his face. “You have no idea how I longed to tell you about your father. How I longed to see that proud face of yours shatter. But Lady Edelgard said no. That it would only hurt you.” He turned his head back to her sleeping form. “And in time, I realized she was right.”
Ferdinand’s heartbeat slowed. Hubert almost looked tender, something he had not known the man was capable of. He felt something inside himself soften.
“Lord Arundel— or the devil masquerading as him— was the mastermind behind the project. One week ago, Lady Edelgard attempted to subdue him, but he pulled a trick on her. She began to transform, and in desperation, she begged me to put her into a magic sleep. It was our only hope at halting the spell, and we’d no clue if it would even work.”
Ferdinand shuddered. To think— he had been at tea with the very monster who had reduced Edelgard to this. She was such a strong, courageous young woman, to whom nothing could break. Never in his life would he have thought she was in pain. She hid her fear beneath an exterior of silk and steel. But how had he not noticed the tension between her and her uncle? Just how blind was he?
It then occurred to him— the way Arundel smiled, his cold yet calm demeanor, his insistence Ferdinand keep it a secret— he’d known what happened to her the entire time. He’d sent Ferdinand after Hubert to retrieve her, no questions asked.
"When Lady Edelgard wakes, I fear she may be irritable." Hubert kicked at the floor, stirring up dust. A rat scurried into the shadows. "I tried my best to make it comfortable, but I can only do so much when we are underground."
“Where are we, exactly?”
Hubert gestured to the ceiling. "We are in the basement of the Opera House. Dorothea and Manuela lent us this furniture from an old production. It took Caspar and I hours to drag it down here. The pillows and blankets are extras from the palace, while that stuffed bear is from her room.”
A stuffed bear sat on the nightstand, diligently guarding Edelgard in her sleep. Bernadetta had made it long ago, during their academy days. She overheard Edelgard’s nightmares and sewn her the bear to ward off any more bad dreams.
Someone had given it a tiny sword and shield.
“Linhardt is working on a cure as we speak,” Hubert continued. “I’ve had Petra and Jeritza go and collect substances we think may be of use. Ideally I would have someone searching in Almyra as well, but the war complicates things.”
"You care for her deeply."
He cupped Edelgard’s cheek. "I do."
More silence. Ferdinand swore he caught a glimpse of a tear run down Hubert’s cheek.
He stood. "What can I do, Hubert? I’ve failed you thus far. I promise that from now on, I will do anything in my power to assist you and Lady Edelgard.”
Hubert shook his head. “You haven’t failed us, Ferdinand. We never asked you to do anything.”
“Then please,” Ferdinand said, clenching his fist, “Tell me where to start.”