Or Else Let Her Be Mine And Mine Alone

At Arras

Night fell and the King's cavalcade advanced towards the castle. The journey had lasted for a whole day and as a result, both the horses and their masters were struggling to keep their eyes open. The only thing that motivated them to not beg the King for a rest period was the approaching lights from the castle of Arras.

Finally the guests reached, and the gates opened to allow their entry. Workers of the castle had long before assembled near the front door to welcome them.

The travel had made Charmolue, who wasn't used to such trips, queasy. Every hour he had spent on that wretched road with that wretched horse they had given him had been miserable. Since he was a torturer, few knew of him outside Paris and even few were eager to welcome him in the castle. That was a good thing, as the proctor at that moment was only looking forward to greeting his chamber.

All this time, a small box wrapped in a yellow cloth was inconspicuously getting carried by the servants from the Palace of Justice. Amidst the rest of the minister's belongings, it was easily passed off as another holder for jewellery or religious objects. Nobody had expressed the slightest doubt regarding its contents.

The Minister himself walked inside the castle with poise, although blinking often. He was not one to let his weakness show, no matter how tedious the journey had been. Using his time in the palanquin to mentally revise the plan had stopped feeling as enthralling of a pastime as he had initially thought it to be. His mind had then given into fantasies about Esmeralda, but to his dismay, even those began to lose flavor after a point. Maybe the uneasiness of sitting in one position was to blame.

Vibrant, new drapes were used to decorate the castle's interior. As soon as the officials arrived in the hall, servants lined up to serve them white wine. Louis and Maximilian were the first recipients. Being rulers who travelled often, fatigue wasn't apparent on the royals' faces, but from how they were genially conversing, any other possibility was eliminated.

The King cheerfully drank from his chalice. 'Ah, chardonnay. I adore Burgundian wine. Dear Maximilian, it's strange that you came all the way to Paris and didn't pack up Bourgogne for me?'

Maximilian smiled awkwardly. 'I... forgot about it, your grace. But we have plenty of wine here for you to bask in for a week.'

'That is wonderful,' said the King. 'For it is an occasion where wine shall be called for. And look, there comes your future son-in-law!'

Frollo turned to look at the entrance and saw the twelve-year-old groom, Charles walking in, doing his utmost to smile and greet everyone while keeping his demeanor civil yet regal. Going towards Maximilian and Louis, he went down on a knee. The King smiled in fatherly approval. Maximilian's response echoed Louis's, but his eyes subtly surveyed the young dauphin.

'Where is the bride?' Louis asked excitedly.

'Most likely asleep.'

'Why? She should be here!'

Maximilian answered, 'I told the maids to not wake her up until tomorrow. There is no requirement for her tonight.'

Louis argued, 'But brother, there is only a week to the signing. She needs to get used to the people of the French court. Otherwise, you understand, going to a foreign country alone, with a new governess, it might overwhelm her.'

Maximilian sipped the wine further. 'I do.'

From a few feet away, Frollo watched the future allies bantering. Charmolue walked beside him.

'They look like father and son.'

The minister twinkled. 'Fatigue.'

'Monseigneur, can you tell them to excuse me? I would prefer to sleep right away.'