Lionheart's eyes narrowed, her expression hardening into something akin to polished steel. "Can't?" she echoed. "Is that your final answer, Ash?"
Ash swallowed. He met her gaze, his own a turbulent mix of fear and a stubborn, nascent resolve. "It is," he said, his voice surprisingly steady this time, though his hands still trembled almost imperceptibly. "I appreciate the offer, Madam, I truly do. But… I have my own path to walk. A path that doesn't involve… this." He gestured vaguely towards the contract on the table.
Ritso, oblivious to the tense undercurrents swirling around them, frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about, Ash? This is an incredible opportunity! A chance to—"
Ash cut him off with a sharp shake of his head, his gaze fixed on Ritso. "You don't understand, Ritso," he said, his voice low and urgent, a silent plea in his tone. "This isn't… It's not what you think." [How easily she was able to play with Ritso's mind,] Ash thought grimly. [Just moments ago, she was shivering in fear of Lionheart's presence, and now she's practically eating out of her hand…]
Lionheart watched them both, her expression unreadable, a mask of cold neutrality firmly in place. She had sensed Ash's apprehension, his unspoken understanding of the true cost of serving her. A fleeting flicker of something – disappointment? Annoyance? A hint of amusement? – crossed her crimson eyes before it vanished. "Very well, Ash," she said, her voice smooth as silk, yet carrying an undercurrent of steel that belied its softness. "I will not force you. But remember this: choices have consequences. And sometimes," she paused, her gaze locking with Ash's, "the path not taken is the one that haunts you most."
It wasn't often that someone dared to refuse her, especially when offered such a prominent position. She found herself grudgingly admiring his defiance, even as it sparked a flicker of irritation. She had hoped to secure at least one of them under her direct command. Ritso was eager, easily swayed, a useful tool. But Ash… Ash possessed a spark, a resilience, a guarded intelligence that she found undeniably intriguing.
"You surprise me, Ash," she said. "Most would leap at the chance to serve me. To be part of something… greater." Her gaze shifted to Ritso, who was still looking confused and slightly put out by Ash's abrupt interruption. "Ritso, you understand the honor I am bestowing upon you, yes?"
Ritso nodded quickly, her black eyes shining with renewed enthusiasm. "Yes, Madam Count! Of course! I'm ready to serve, to do whatever you ask!"
Lionheart's smile was slight, a mere tightening of her lips, yet it conveyed a sense of satisfaction. "Good. Then let us finalize your commitment." She gestured towards the contract again. "Sign."
As Ritso eagerly stepped forward, the white and crimson quill in her hand trembling with anticipation, Ash stepped forward too. A reckless impulse. He knew what he was about to do was foolish, perhaps even suicidal. But the thought of Ritso being completely ensnared by Lionheart's influence was unbearable. He might not fully trust Lionheart, but he trusted Ritso even less to navigate the treacherous currents of her authority.
"Wait," Ash interrupted, his voice ringing out with unexpected force, cutting through the expectant silence. He met Lionheart's gaze, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. "I've changed my mind."
Lionheart's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose in forged surprise, her crimson eyes gleaming with undisguised interest. "Oh?" she purred. "And what brought about this… sudden change of heart?"
Ash took a deep breath, trying to project an air of confidence he didn't feel. "I… I realized you're right," he stammered, the words a carefully constructed lie. "It is an honor. And… I'm ready to serve you, but let Ritso out of it."
Ritso's heart sank as she looked at Ash. He was deliberately excluding her from this seemingly grand opportunity, or perhaps… something more then that. A blush unexpectedly warmed her cheeks at the thought of Ash caring enough to protect her from something she couldn't foresee. But then she looked at his human-like face, devoid of any beastly tell, and her fleeting excitement and blush vanished, replaced by a knot of disgust and hurt.
Lionheart's smile broadened, a genuine expression of pleasure that yet held back. "Excellent," she said, her voice smooth as velvet. "I knew you would see reason eventually." A slight pause, her gaze unwavering on Ash. "Now, Ash, let us solidify your… commitment."
Ash picked up the quill, its delicate feather tip sinking slightly under the pressure of his fingers. He dipped it into the open inkwell, the dark liquid clinging to the nib like a shadow. his hand trembled for a fleeting moment, a betraying flicker of his inner turmoil, but he quickly composed himself, forcing a semblance of steadiness. He held the quill poised above the parchment. He knew what he was doing. He understood the implications, the weight of the words he was about to inscribe. But he also knew he had no other choice. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pressed the quill to the paper, the scratch of the feather against the parchment a stark sound in the otherwise silent room. When he lifted the quill, his signature was there, stark and irrevocablel.
He looked at Lionheart, a sense of grim resignation in his eyes. She returned an acknowledging gaze, a flicker of something akin to appreciation in her crimson depths. "Congratulations, Mister Ash," she said. "Welcome to the family." She stood up for the first time, and as expected, she was tall, even taller than her butler. She walked towards him with purposeful strides before continuing, "Come with me, Ash."
He nodded, his gaze flicking to Ritso before he spoke. "Ritso, stay here; I'll be back."
She gave him a hesitant thumbs up, accepting his words with a mixture of confusion and concern. Lionheart turned to Uren. "Take care of Miss Ritso; she is our guest. Give her the best treatment."
Uren bowed his head in silent submission. "Yes, Madam, as you wish."
She turned back once more, her gaze settling on Ritso. "And you, my dear," Ritso straightened her posture at the sound of Lionheart's address, "don't hesitate to ask for anything you desire. Uren will see to it." Her words held a surprising note of care. For a moment, Ritso was lost in thought, trying to reconcile this unexpected kindness with the Countess's earlier coldness, before offering a respectful nod.
Lionheart began to walk towards a wide hallway, her confidence evident in every step. "Come, follow me."
Ash did as she commanded, the act of following someone else's order a frustratingly new experience, yet he understood his current predicament.
They walked past the grand hallway, now entering a covered walkway that linked two main buildings. On either side, a meticulously manicured garden bloomed with vibrant blue and red flowers, their petals shimmering under the sunlight as if freshly watered. Ash couldn't help but contemplate the stark contrast between Lionheart's imposing demeanor and the delicate beauty of her chosen garden – a juxtaposition of coldness and warmth. [Which one is the true face?] he wondered. He stopped abruptly in his path.
"Can I ask something, Madam Lionheart?"
She continued walking a few more steps before turning, her crimson eyes sharp. "Yes… You can try."
He gathered his courage, taking a deep breath of the fragrant air, trying to calm the frantic beat of his heart. "Lionheart is not your first name, is it?"
"Astute observation, Ash. No, it isn't." Her words were simple, direct facts, devoid of any hint of manipulation. He looked down at his feet, then back up at her, a flicker of trust – surprising in its suddenness – igniting within him. "So can you tell me what your name Is? And if I'm not being too personal, why did Sir Barnen refer to 'Count Lionheart' with male pronouns?"
She looked at him with a blank expression, a moment of intense scrutiny that made his stomach clench. Just as he braced himself for a reprimand, a soft whisper escaped her lips. "My given name is Anzhelina." He looked at her waited for her to continue. "Lionheart was my father's name," she explained, a hint of melancholy entering her voice. "He was a… formidable man. A legend, some would say. When he passed, I inherited his title, and with it, his name. It has become… a symbol of authority, a mantle I wear."
Ash's mind flashed back to the stern portrait in the main hall.
She paused, her expression hardening slightly, the brief glimpse of Anzhelina fading. "You see, Ash, this city… it is a rough place. And if word got out that it was ruled by a countess—Anzhelina—they would see a soft, elegant woman. They would see weakness. They would underestimate me. They would try to take advantage." Her voice dropped to a near whisper, the steel returning. "And that… is something I will not tolerate."
"So, the masculine persona… it's a disguise?" Ash asked, understanding dawning in his eyes.
Anzhelina nodded, a hint of something akin to weary resignation in her expression. "Precisely. You're newest of my ranks and protecting my identity is also your task, Lionheart commands respect. Lionheart inspires fear. Anzhelina… well, Anzhelina invites… unwanted attention. It is a necessary deception. It allows me to wield power without constantly having to prove myself. It lets me control the narrative." A fleeting flicker of amusement crossed her face. "And it usually works. They come, expecting a gruff, battle-hardened man. They find… something else entirely. They leave, often satisfied, even if they have been deceived. They believe what they want to believe. And that," she concluded, her demeanor coming back, "is something beautiful."
She turned away from Ash, her movements precise and deliberate. The glimpse of Anzhelina was gone, replaced by the imposing figure of the city's ruler.
[She actually told the truth. I… I didn't expected her to be this transparent to something so personal. I don't understand this women, I need to stay cautious.]
She began to walk again, her footsteps echoing slightly on the stone walkway. Without turning back, she tossed a simple command over her shoulder, her voice crisp and devoid of any personal inflection. "I believe that satisfies your… curiosity," she said, the words clipped and dismissive, as if the conversation was now closed, a matter of business concluded. It was a clear signal that the audience was over.
A small, almost involuntary smile touched Ash's lips at the unexpected, albeit brief, glimpse behind the formidable mask. He shook his head slightly and started following her again, [Leader. This is what she is.]