36th of Frost, 120xx
"It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Lady Mae Eloeth.” A tall, well groomed man stood at the side of a luxurious mahogany dining table. He appeared human, wearing a suit made of fine white and gold satin whose intricate stitching shimmered in the candlelight of the moody establishment known as ‘Johin’. An upscale restaurant with it’s menu decided by the chef changing every night, one only went there for the best Kalzasi had to offer.
Mae had decided to wear a simple black dress. Long sleeved, it contoured her body and ended just above her knee. Her lips, coated in a ruby red lipstick, were held shut tight as she examined she simply stared back at the man. Irritation had already set in long before her arrival, no thanks to her carriage driver who seemed he’d rather spend time picking his nose than her horse's hooves.
But etiquette and society dictated her movements here. And so with a short bow of her head, Mae greeted the man.
“The pleasure is mine, Sir Hans Wilhelm.” She rose with a practiced grace. Hair black as night flowed down her back like the strokes of a paintbrush. Smooth, it fluttered as she took her seat across from the man her parents had set up for her.
They really should get the point by now. She had no intention of marrying, least of all producing an heir. And as a child of seven it was not like her other siblings couldn’t take on that job for her. But they were strict. They wanted at least two children from each of their own, at least one of which should be male, and none of which should have a hint of peasant blood. And so there she sat, across from yet another tiring noble who likely would only speak of politics and her beauty, already pining for the night to be over.
“I must say, I never thought seeing The Rose herself in person would be such a wonderful sight. But the rumors were true, you are as lovely as a midnight blooming white rose. Your reputation precedes you, in the best of ways My Lady.” Hans took his seat as well, the circular table doing well to keep him far enough away from her that at least he couldn’t reach across and kiss her hand like the last one.
“I thank you for your compliment, Hans. To my understanding your family runs a chain of bathhouses. Is this correct?” She asked, silently thanking the hostess who came by with a set of champagne glasses and a warm towel. It wasn’t that she cared. But overtly telling the man she was not interested hadn’t been the best idea, she’d found out the first time. Her parents had been furious, stating how poorly she acted. How, if she truly did not find them a match, that she should at least find reason to before denying them.
And so she would. Find out everything about him and his family that she could, and pick one thing she knew her parents wouldn’t approve of. Every family has their vices, as it were.
Hans smiled as he picked up the champagne glass between two smooth skinned fingers with perfectly polished nails. “That is correct. We plan on expanding to Zaichaer come Ash, in fact. By 130 we plan on having at least ten new locations in five different cities across Ransera. Pretty impressive, no?”
It would have been. If he had done any of the work. But she’d already done her research. The man was a bore. He worked simply with the finances of only one of the bathhouses and truly only held wealth by name alone. While her family was much the same in lineage, she held pride in the fact that she had single handedly turned a lonely building into a bustling center of knowledge, art, and history for the entire city. An accomplishment that she continued to improve on day after day.
“That is quite the accomplishment, yes. But do you plan to take your future spouse with you when you expand? Surely you can’t expect if we were wed that I would travel with you.” She stated simply. Hans just grinned, disgustingly mismatched teeth glinting in the light.
“Oh but of course! I’d make sure you would never work a day more in your life.” Mae stifled a laugh as her lip curled into the tiniest of snarls. But before she could respond with what may have been an ill timed insult, the waitress came to save her.
“I present to each of your dining delights, a roast quail. Twice cooked with a crispy, peppered skin and tender insides that have been injected with a mixture of cranberry, orange, and pomegranate nectars, laid over a bed of frost vegetables and a creamy yogurt sauce. Finished in a rich olive oil, and paired with the peach infused champagne. Enjoy.”
“Thank you, Claire. As always.” Mae gave the woman a hint of a thankful smile and then turned as Claire walked away, coldly once more, to the waste of time in front of her. He had already begun to stuff his face. Classic.
Mae ignored her food for a moment. Instead, content to savor the rich aroma of perfectly prepared food in front of her. It had been quite a while since her last experience at Johin, but it was a favorite that she chose for all her dates. If only so she would enjoy at least one thing that night, make the date worth it so to speak.
She picked up her own utensils and began to slowly cut away at the thigh of the quail. Her head remained high as she brought the first bite to her lips.
“So you-” He nearly choked through the first bite. “-you have come here before?” He asked, mouth full. It seemed his manners ended when he had sat down.
Her brow twitched briefly, but she simply nodded. She had all the information she needed to back out of the arrangement, and now could likely eat her meal in peace. This was where most of her dates caught on. They’d leave early when they realized she was not interested, or they’d finish their meal in peace as well. Hell, most of the time they were doing the same thing she was; ignoring their parents wishes. Though most had their own ladies waiting at home- much to the dismay of their parents.
He cleared his throat as a large piece of quail slid down his throat. “Well, then never again! Not without me of course. I shall wed you, take you here every month, and you won’t have to lift a finger to do so. I’m sure the museum is an absolutely dreadful place to work. All those dusty, dirty relics, I can’t imagine the people that actually handle that stuff! And for what, some useless bit of history? Nearly as grotesque as the people who pay to go in there, am I right?” He laughed with a gusto that echoed throughout the romantic restaurant, catching the irritation of more than just Mae who now stared at him with an obvious furrow to her brows.
She placed her fork down, her knife, and blotted her lips before sighing and standing from the table. She could stand idle chit chat, even a bit of negging. But the insult to her business, the artifacts and relics she had curated, slaved over, nearly lost her life to a few times, was not something she was able to sit quietly for.
“If you had stepped inside my museum, Hans, you’d have come to realize that even one of my relics is worth more than your top three bathhouses combined. Including the one across the street from this very restaurant. And while there may be some lower class people that enter my museum, at least they have the bravery to face the history that allows them the lives they have today. But you? You probably wouldn't know the Sundering from the Sun. I believe I am done here. Which is a pity, I truly wished to enjoy something tonight. But it seems a pitiful bath boy has ruined it.”
Her words were venomous, icey, but her voice did not raise as she spoke and by the time the last word had slipped past her lips, Hans was left gawking at her. Shock turned to rage, and he quickly stood to match her. By then Claire had noticed the commotion and rushed to the pair.
“May I assist you? Has the dinner not been to your liking?” She asked, feigning professional worry. But this was not the first time a date had upset Mae, and certainly would not be the last.
“No, Claire. As always the food is exquisite. However it seems my appetite has been ruined. Place the bill for tonight's experience on me. I don’t think he’ll be doing as well as he expects. After all, Glade is approaching. Your worst season, is it not, Sir Wilhelm?”
She was collected, poised, as still as the mountains in a storm as she turned from the man, twirling a velvet blue cloak around her shoulders and clasping it closed around her collarbones. After paying the hefty five gold pieces for their meal and beverage, she pushed the door open to step out into the frigid night air.
Standing by the entrance, the doorman was shuffling in the cold and looking positively guilty. She raised her brow at him as he waved her over. “Lady Eloeth, I am so sorry. But your driver, he told me that your horse had begun coughing and so he went home early to tend to it.. ”
Before she could answer, the disgustingly rude man she’d left upstairs came staggering out of the doorway. He grabbed her arm, red faced, and gritting his teeth as his fingers squeezed into her flesh as if ready to pop her like a grape.
“You think yourself better than me?! I am the only son of the Wilhelm family! What are you, just one of seven? A spec to be discarded if you fail? You think I haven’t heard of your family's inner disputes, we all have! I can spread word that your museum is failing, bring it to the ground! And you would have nothing!”
She wanted to kick him. To scream. To bruise his throat with her fingers. Her arm ached in his rough touch. But her fathers words, the expectations of her family, all echoed in her mind. And she was not in her museum, not around her guards who could easily protect her from the backlash of rumor or a hand.
“Go on. Break it.” She glared at him but her voice was quiet, and she did not move nor flinch as she challenged him, jaw clenched. “See where it gets you.”
