Galt felt strangely nervous, which wasn't usual for him. Perhaps in a life or death situation, but here he was a bit taken with the idea of seeing Silke again after a few days of contemplation. He felt wholly inadequate of her attentions, even if it wasn't her affections. Something about watching the aristocracy in the palace made him wonder how he could ever been that, much less the idea version of that. True, she was coming to teach him, but the learning curve was steep. He knew there were many pompous nobles, but the good ones were well-versed in matters of war, finance, and culture.

He knew none of those, and it usually took years to master any one of those subjects.

Now, the Palace Guards who were off-duty were now going back on their rounds, and the tower itself was guarded by all save the watchmen who were stationed at its front. The inner chambers of the tower itself were largely made for business and meetings, when not populated by guardsmen or the unlikely event the palace was under siege. The battlements had siege batteries and sconces for arrows built into the stone, but within were well furnished, comfortable rooms with smoothed, laminated desks and cushioned chairs. Book filled cabinets lined the walls and the carpets were soft.

There was even two bedrooms for guests in the southwing of the spire, though they were used maybe once a year, if that. Only every few months did a maid come by to clean them and keep the dust from settling in too thickly. The beds looked very comfortable though. He wondered how many guards had fallen asleep on one drunk, or if that was even allowed amongst fellows.

Galt awaited Silke in the central meeting chamber, a circular room with an equally curvaceous table lined with seats and a central area cordoned off for someone who would volunteer to speak to an assembly of accountants or dignitaries. He did not sit at the great table, but a soft, high backed chair in one of the corners next to a small table with a flower pot and two cups of tea, still steaming for when she arrived.

Galt wore a fashionable jerkin, and rolled up sleeves exposing his toned arms. His hair was as dark as ever, as were his eyes. He had a thoughtful expression on his face until he heard footsteps that drew him out of his reverie and brought a sly look on his face, though his smile was genuine. When he saw Silke, he said "I didn't what to bring exactly so I sort of did not bring anything. Though I have a quill and parchment on the table just there."

Silke greeted him with a smile, bordering on a mischievous grin, but she waited until her escort had deposited her box on the larger table in the room before she spoke. The servant that had accompanied her up to the higher floor seemed discrete enough; however, if there was one thing she had learned over her many years in the courts, it was to never presume privacy with others around. Her hair had been twisted and coiled on the crown of her head, though today it was not secured by jeweled combs, ribbons, or fanciful braids. Similarly, her clothing was more muted, yet appropriate for a visit to the castle. Rather than large, sweeping sleeves, hers laced up to her wrists, which was still fashionable and exponentially more practical for writing. The gown was a pleasant shade of blue and snug over her shoulders and waist, flaring at her hips into a full skirt.

"It's only fair you didn't know what to bring since I didn't give you a list," she told him, walking over to her box and opening it. She withdrew the blank ledger and the smaller book she had packed. Crossing the room in a few long, graceful strides, she handed him the blank ledger as she sat down opposite him. "This is a gift for you, but before you are too terribly excited by my generosity, it's to help you keep track of your finances. When my mother passed away, I found one she had kept of our family accounting, and it was indispensable in helping me learn and stay organized myself." She held up and opened the smaller book she had brought with her and thumbed through the pages, showing that each piece of parchment was covered in neatly inked notes and figures.

Silke leaned back in her chair and crossed one ankle over the other as she evaluated him for a moment silently. Galt had seemed hesitant to accept her proposal a few days prior, so she was a touch surprised that he was so eager and anxious. Perhaps he was the sort of man that needed to commit to a plan before he could truly invest himself. It was a welcome change, however, and she wasn't about to look a proverbial gift horse in the mouth.

"After we spoke it occurred to me we should start with one of the fundamentals that affects you the most at present. Your estate is still being finished, so you have a rare opportunity to master the basics before you're managing a new household. Don't get me wrong, the politics of the courts is equally important, as are riding lessons," she added with a hint of humor and sparkle of her eye, "but I imagine those can wait a little longer. Getting your new residence in order is also an excellent excuse to miss social obligations until you're ready. Not that you'll have any shortage of invitations," Silke mused aloud.

Since their parting the night they had met, she hadn't been able to avoid all the gossip circulating the newest eligible bachelor. Those who considered themselves her friends were cautious about expressing their interest in Galt. Silke had denied that she harbored any romantic affections for anyone in particular, but many ladies remained suspicious, and that had created its own stir. Daughters of barons, counts, and other prominent members of the nobility saw it as a chance to either compete against the 'darling' of the court. He could be aloof and distance for the first couple weeks of his appointment, but the women would not wait overly long, and soon they would pursue him with renewed vigor unless he tarnished his image in some way.

"There is something else that occurred to me when I was preparing to visit you today. You are now newly wealthy. As you saw when you rescued the duke, having wealth does make you a target. The bandits you saved the duke from- is there any chance that they will seek you out now, for revenge, or out of jealousy over what you've gained?" Silke lifted her eyes from the book in her hands to meet his gaze. She wasn't rude enough to outright accuse him of being part of the brigands; whether he was or not wasn't of any real importance to her. What she sought was information about what had become of them... a detail curiously omitted from the tales she had been told.

Galt collected himself well, giving her a smile and crossing his leg in a masculine fashion when she took her seat. For most of his life, when he was meeting someone of import (which was rare), he usually would always be ready to leap up and flee at the slightest provocation. For him to be sitting here and getting more comfortable was rare and showed his trust in her. He didn't even do this around the Duke or the King, though he didn't think she knew that. He took the ledger gingerly, thanking her as he gave it a cursory look.

He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of all of this 'book learning,' but he knew he wasn't dumb. And he needed to learn this, else he would be quite unprepared for a lot of scenarios he would have to deal with soon. He took a quill and placed it atop the ledger to prepare himself, but rather than begin, she asked him a question he didn't expect.

"Those bandits? No." He assured her. "Other bandits, maybe."

A few faces flitted through his mind. Images of hard me he knew who would do anything to get money if they felt it was plausible or profitable enough. Galt didn't feel especially worried, however. They would go after anyone of the aristocracy, and only Galt knew of their usual hangouts and modus operandi. He was probably the safest count this side of the Imperial Peregon.

"The ones that went after me didn't plan on the Duke, at least until he had already pretty much landed in their lap. They knew a caravan was coming by, but the Duke would have been assumed a commoner and gutted likely." He said, shaking his head at the thought, running dexterous hands over his freshly shaven chin. "A few of them might have recognized him. I know I did. But as far as I know, Halstag and his boys thought the Duke Valdemar was a merchant. Plus, I think Ildeth has a bigger problem with upjumped cutthroats. Say what you will about this Kingdom, but our nobles know how to fight as well as keep a good guard."

Galt had traveled around a bit, but he knew more from war stories than actual experience. From what he could tell, the Ardeland Nobles went to battle alongside their troops. Not many other nations could boast the same, save for some martial barons and military commanders who were appointed as such. "I think the only reason they or anyone else would come after me specifically would be self defense, and I don't even know if they know where I am. If I were in their shoes, I would know there was a new hotshot count, but even having my name wouldn't make them think it was me. Far as I know, my situation hasn't happened before. But let's talk about that another time, yeah? I'm ready to learn."

Fingertips rapped thoughtfully on the table as she listened to Galt speak, her head tilted to the side as she listened intently. In many social situations she was careful to temper her stare as she had been told, admittedly most loudly by her brother, that when she was overly focused on a person or topic that her gaze was almost intimidatingly fierce. Silke had no desire to give such an impression and thus took pains to temper her countenance as best she was able. Sitting with the former thief, however, her mask slipped slightly as she concentrated internally on the the issue of the bandits and how best to utilize them to raise the newly christened count to a higher station.

Of course, his long explanation was leading her down the path to the conclusion that the bandits in the area were irrelevant. Surprisingly, he was so firm in his belief that he was eager to learn, and she knew that almost no one had any measure of excitement for mathematics and accounting. What few noblemen she knew had earnest passion for the subject had an entirely different disposition than Galt. Perhaps his skill with a sword and his considerable charms were a result of his upbringing (or lack thereof) rather than his natural inclinations, but she found that unlikely. Either he was deflecting away from discussing his former comrades or he was anxious about his new financial responsibilities. Silke didn't know him well enough to decipher which was the real impetus for his driving their conversation back towards bookkeeping.

"I'm sure you're familiar with the concept of pressing your advantage. Right now, in this moment, you have the advantage of being the hero whom everyone knows and is fascinated with. I'm aware of your objections to being painted as a hero, but it is something you can capitalize upon regardless," she elaborated, turning to glance out the window. It really was quite lovely outside in the palace. Though their location was relatively remote considering how busy the rest of the castle was, it was still lively, and she almost found herself lost watching people through the window.

"There's a variety of ways that lords climb the ranks so to speak. Many marry for power and influence through their new in-laws, an indirect route, but one that is highly successful and reaps rewards for the next generation. Others build their wealth through their cunning and wield it as a means to achieve recognition and prestige. Some are accomplished social adepts that trade in secrets, lies, and truths in equal measure, and can subtly manipulate the court to gain their clout. Each aristocrat presses their advantage, their strength, to achieve their goal."

Silke took a calculated pause to let Galt ruminate over those roads to success she had just laid bare. None of them seemed to suit him, at least not yet, and she wanted him to arrive at that same deduction. He didn't leap at her proposal to introduce him to eligible ladies, and was not enthused about wedding, he didn't have the experience and business acumen to delve deeply into how to benefit through investment and trade, and the fact he was shunning other company implied he didn't have the endurance for spending endless weeks attending every event and function where a peer might attend.

"So," she said, looking back towards him and lowering a head onto her palm. "I thought we might make you into more of a hero. You know how they move, how they think, how they fight, and between the two of us we're clever enough to come up with some plans that will make any conflict have minimal risks." Tapping one piece of blank parchment with her finger she continued more softly. "And it doesn't have to all be for glory. Any spoils, any rewards, we could use for something meaningful to you. I could teach you how to fund a home, a decent one, for children that need one, for example." Silke couldn't understand what his life was before now; she could sympathize, but not empathize. What she kept returning to, though, was how much more difficult everything was after her mother had passed, and how hellish it would have been if she didn't have the security of her father, brothers, and a stable home.

Galt tried to match her gaze, but he had to admit her eyes made it hard for him to concentrate so he decided that was a losing strategy. Plus, he doubted his own look could be quite so striking as her stare. He opted to instead sit back and truly think on what she just proposed.

"A hero?" He asked, unable to keep a breathless chuckle from escaping his lips. Usually a life of good deeds and one wrong move led many to the gallows. Galt was someone who had spent his life committing crimes, and his one good deed set him up as a heroic figure. Why did he deserve this when so many good men had been destroyed for far less? He didn't know, and it made him treat the entire notion with incredulity, at least initially.

Perhaps he was a hero, or could play the part. He had never considered himself one, but then again its because no one had ever compared him to one before either. At least until a mere month ago. "Well, I am dashing." He said, trying to be funny. He knew he wasn't bad looking, but a mysterious, debonair figure was something he could attempt to be. At least Silke thought he fit the bill, and her opinion mattered more than his own in this situation.

"I can fight and move like I'm meant to be here. Like I'm attractive and confident. I can smile when I need to and be coy when it suits me. I guess that's all that really matters when it comes to appearances." He said, crossing his arms. Briefly, he gave Silke another glance, and nodded his agreement. In a way he was relieved, this wasn't entirely out of his element. He had infiltrated baron's mansions and criminals dens before as someone not himself. This would be even easier. He was himself, and what acting he did, he needn't worry on getting caught in it. This was his new life, he better get used to it.

"Funding Orphanages might be good. Maybe a hospital as well," He said. Hospitals on the continent were just as much homeless shelters as they were for healing the sick and easing those that lay dying. That would also reduce the crime in the city and countryside as well. People would owe the gangs less in terms of money and homage if they could get food and education elsewhere. "But how would I get the money to fund projects like that in the first place? I don't think I own any farms or goods, do I? Wait, do I have subjects I am taxing?"

Silke allowed herself a small smile when Galt confessed- albeit with a sense of humor- that he was dashing. She certainly wasn't in any position to disagree. Being handsome and charismatic was not strictly speaking necessary for him to play the part of a hero, however. It was usually enough to be in the right place and time, armed, and competent with a weapon. More than once she had been tempted to try to create a situation where her brother would look heroic to help bolster his social status. Unfortunately, skilled as he was with a blade, being propelled to a higher station was not a good idea for her only surviving sibling. He struggled enough as a count's heir, even with her notable help, and she couldn't bear him leaning on harder if he had additional responsibilities.

Without realizing what she was doing, she found herself staring at him as he explained his acting abilities. It would have been easier if she could disagree with his assessment. No matter how much she'd flippantly avoid the topic (or, if cornered, deny it outright), she was a wretchedly single and lonely woman. It was only natural that she craved a sort of romantic companionship. She always resisted the urges to indulge her feelings, intimately aware of what a relationship could do if she met an untimely death as she believed was her destiny, yet every time he called to attention his finer qualities, he tempted her in ways she was certain he did not fully appreciate. Internally she sighed and tore her gaze away.

"Orphanages are easier than a hospital. It'll be doable, but it will take considerably more maneuvering to secure all the resources needed to make certain that it would last," she mused aloud. The nobility saw children without parents as a burden; none of them really wanted to take them in and spend any money helping them be raised. As far as the aristocracy was concerned, an orphan was the problem of the village, not them. They'd be all too happy to send street urchins to a central location for someone else to take care of. The sick was a more delicate matter because of the healers that would need to be employed by such an establishment. They could attract matrons for an orphanage with good wages, but many of the best physicians chased prestige and clout, and it could be difficult to staff a hospital appropriately without depriving a village or stepping on a favorite of the local gentry.

The questions about his funds, farms, goods, and subjects took her by surprise. Her eyebrows lifted as she looked at him curiously. "You own land now, as does all the nobility. The holdings aren't as big as a duke's of course, but they are substantial enough you won't be destitute unless you dedicate yourself to trying to find ways to live to excess. I can't speak as to specifics, I'd need to see the details of the documentation you have regarding your appointment, but most counts have fields, some have forests for hunting and lumber, mines for minerals and ore, lakes or rivers... it truly depends on what parcels were granted to you. Because you own the land, those who live on it and work the land will pay you for the right to do so, and you can also charge fees for hunting in your forests, or for the lumber that come for your forests, or any gems found in your mines- although gem mines are typically owned by the king or a duke at least." She shrugged.

"It's a lot of accounting to track," she conceded. "The first two weeks will be the hardest because nothing will be familiar and every day you will learn something new about your property. It will feel overwhelming initially when the people on your lands come to you for help because of flooding, or ruined roads, or bandits in the area," she continued with a wry smile, "so don't be shy about reaching out if you need advice. I'll let everyone believe it came to you naturally on the first day," Silke grinned with a coy wink.

"I've an idea how we might lure some of the bandits out of hiding with bait, but I'd like you to decide who you want to lure out first, and what is more enticing to them. I'll see if I can discreetly procure some maps of the locale to select an ambush site that will neither be too close nor too far away from safety should things go awry." With a purposeful pivot, suspiciously so, she returned to the topic of his financials. "Now, let me show you some of our older records and how I track our income, expenses, and seasonable variability." Silke opened a journal, the interior of which was covered in inked notes. The first few pages had one handwriting, and there was a notable shift to another part of the way through, as if two people had written in it rather than one.

Galt had always been a city boy. He had never worked the fields, though if he had been given the chance as a youth on one hungry night, he might have taken for the life. But the manorial system so widespread across the kingdom was not something he was overly familiar with. However, it did make sense. The lords of cities made the same money as the lords of manors and farms. People worked for them and paid for the right to. It made sense, and he supposed the only reason why he had yet to be paid was the fact that his estate still had a bit to go before it was ready for him.

Still, that was a worry he could put aside, now.

He continued to listen. It certainly would take a lot of accounting. He doubted it was as simple as a few dozen additions of X income every month. Somehow, it was always more complicated than that. That's how it always was for him, when he was given a job, illicit or not. Complications always showed up. Luckily he had this pretty girl as an aide, and still he didn't know what he did right that had the gods reward him with this current situation with the addition of Silke. Easy on the eyes, and she had an intelligence that glimmered in her gaze that he found enchanting.

"Believe me, I won't hesitate to contact you if I need anything. Or to go out for dinner," He said with a subtle wink, and then he smiled at the mischief he couldn't help but say aloud.

But then she spoke to him about their previous idea. The idea of taking a bandit group in one fell swoop. Her proclamation of a strategy caused him to raise his brow in surprise. He wasn't going to underestimate her, but this was borderline military strategy. He didn't expect her to have experience or the mind of such a thing, but he would trust her. At least until she shared her idea for him to gauge. Not that he was much of a strategist himself. And then...she delved back into finances. He opened his mouth and then closed it, and instead he leaned in and listened intently, watching her as she spoke with his hawkish gaze, switching between the paper and her distracting face.

As the numbers streamed out of her nice lips, he caught the info as best he could. Luckily this directly benefited him, so he was certainly paying more attention than he might usually, even with Silke so close. He placed his finger on the page whenever he had a question, running his hand over the parchment to follow the formula and to keep his thoughts straight.

"I think I'm understanding most of this..."

Silke had given no acknowledgment of his comment about a dinner, though she had certainly heard it. The coy remark, when paired with wink, and coming from a devastatingly charming bachelor that was twice as heroic as every other noble man she came across, left her rather speechless. For a woman that prided herself on her composure and ability to handle any and every social situation she found herself in, she was more than a touch embarrassed at the way that her heart fluttered. He had warned her that he would flirt and they had mutually agreed that it would be effectively meaningless. It should have been something easily dismissed and forgotten with a light laugh; instead she found herself reminded how lonely she was.

For a second her grip tightened on the ledger as she forced herself to think of her father. Count Kasper had been madly in love with his wife. It was the sort of passionate, romantic, everlasting love that was written about in fairy tales and poems, that was the envy of all society, that gave little girls hopes they would meet a prince charming that would sweep them off their feet. They hadn't seen the grief that obliterated the husband that was left behind. As a young girl herself, she had been unwillingly born witness to a titan of her childhood crumbling into a shell of her former self. Silke believed in true, pure, consuming love, but she also saw it for the double-edged sword that it was. She couldn't allow herself to ever marry and destroy someone like that when she inevitably died.

And she would die first, she reminded herself. Her mother had gone, and her brother had gone, and it only made sense that she would be next. Silke's belief was so deeply rooted that she could feel her fate closing in on her when she was still and quiet. She had to make it as pleasant for everyone left behind when she went to join her mother and brother. That was why she couldn't- and wouldn't- easily give in to the temptation of Galt.

"The concepts aren't terribly difficult," Silke admitted as they concluded the first part of his finance lessons. "The real challenge making certain that you have appropriate contingencies in place for unexpected disasters or other setbacks. It's impossible to anticipate the weather year to year, and I've seen my fair share of nobleman spending as much as they are earning, and then be an impossible situation when their fields are flooded and no one can make a profit." She sat back in her chair, allowing herself to look tired for the first time since she had arrived. "I've created a few exercises that..." Suddenly she stopped mid-sentence and swore as she fished a handkerchief out of her pocket.

She had a nosebleed. Silke had noticed it as soon as she felt it trickle towards her lip and turned away, fumbling for the piece of cloth, and swearing under her breath. Typically she was able to hide when she over-exerted herself as she had these past few days. No one had pushed her into skimping out on meals or sleeping little. She had been so excited, so absorbed in her work, that she had rushed towards her invisible deadline without doing so in a healthy manner.

"My apologies. It should be on one of the pieces of parchment," she called out to him as she finally dabbed at her nose. She was a mess and it would have been humiliating to let him see just how much of a mess she was before she could stop the flow and clean herself up.

"You have a point there..." Galt conceded. His urban mind didn't account for weather, and then there was soil comp...composition? He had heard that phrase somewhere, but had never bothered to pay much attention to it. He sighed, he had a lot to bloody learn. He still hadn't seen his estate grounds. He had to have been granted good land or at least a profitable arrangement, or else what sort of hero-turned-count would he be? A poor one, he supposed. Galt turned a page in the ledger, eyes on the paper at what exercise she might have in store for him. He needed to be engaged. There was very little in the world that motivated a young man like an attractive woman, even if he knew she wasn't available.

As she began to present what she had prepared, she cursed. He turned to see a long bead of blood sliding down her nose, the woman hastily trying to clean it up. Galt did not know what to do, at least conceptually. But already his hands were moving, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket. She tried to continue the lesson and tried to staunch the flow of blood, but Galt placed the book on his lap and placed a gentle hand behind her head, letting him get a good look at her. He wasn't used to spontaneous nose bleeds, but he knew wounds and bleeding from street fights and the occasional knife attack.

"We'll get to that," He said softly, taking away her cloth that had slowly been blotched with crimson and pressing his thicker cloth to her nose gingerly, watching her closely. "You're not going to compromise yourself on my account though."

He held it there for a few solid moments, and then pulled his handkerchief away to examine, before placing it back with a care. He was very close to her, his black hair almost absorbing the light and his dark eyes glinting in the firelight. "Do you need me to call for water or anything? If we need to stop and eat, I admit I am hungry." He chuckled, and yet again pulled the cloth away. At that, he found the flow had seemingly stopped. He smiled, letting her go and rolling the cloth up outside in so the bloodied mark was hidden away.

"In fact, a full stomach might help me learn." He said lightly, placing the handkerchief down. Satisfied, he looked at her curiously, not quiet concerned yet, but invested and with a care. "Do you feel better now, Silke? Don't try and trick me, I'm very familiar with that game."

He smiled like a boy.

Initially Silke tried to mumble an objection to Galt's assistance. She was a fiercely independent woman that wasn't used to accepting help. There was a passive, pervasive stereotype and bias that all members of the female gender were weaker in almost every sense of the word. To be recognized for her mental prowess she had to be twice as fast with witty remarks, impossibly composed, and smarter than half the room to stand a chance. If a man was slow to answer, or stumbled over his words, or said something mistaken, it was much more likely to be overlooked. In addition to battling for recognition in the court for years, by necessity she had to be 'strong one' for her family. When her father and elder brother fell apart, she was their emotional pillar, their accountant, their assistant, and household manager. Circumstances forced a transformation to happen what felt like overnight.

Having someone genuinely concerned, that actually sprang into action with good intentions (rather than looking uncomfortable), and doing so without any judgment was... both nice and odd. As he pressed his cloth against her nose to stem the flow she murmured something about this occurring somewhat often- which was true. Silke had learned the hard way that when she failed to skip multiple meals and sleep properly the stress she felt on a daily basis manifested through an increased chance of developing a bloody nose. Once, a couple years ago, she had pushed her limits to the degree she ended up in bed with a wretched cough and lasting fatigue as well.

Her heart fluttered.

It wasn't the proximity to him that gave her butterflies, though he was ridiculously handsome. That he was so effortlessly charming was what made her want to compromise her vows to herself to never indulge a romance. His touch was gentle, his tone was light, and he smiled at her with more earnest feeling than half of the court combined. Silke knew how to steel herself against the swagger of attractive faces with equally large egos; they did not make for the best of partners she knew. Galt, however, was a breath of fresh air that she didn't quite know how to resist as sternly as she did others.

He was giving her an out. For someone allegedly unused to the games of the court, he was giving her an excuse, an opportunity to save face. If she agreed to lunch they could both pretend it was for his sole benefit rather than hers. It was a peculiar thing to feel flattered about. She couldn't remember the last time- if ever- a man had accommodated her sense of pride rather than passively demanding she bow the figurative knee to his. A tiny hint of pink rose to her cheeks. Silke was sincerely unsure whether it was because she was flustered by him or still embarrassed by the nose bleed.

"It happens to me occasionally, you needn't be concerned," she answered, delicately side-stepping his question. She didn't have the heart to deceive him, regardless of the potential for success, after he was so kind. Galt didn't deserve her half-truths when he had shown such care. Silke wouldn't pretend she magically felt wonderful when, in fact, she felt as if she could eat a horse or take an hour long nap on the spot. "Very well, let's have lunch then," she decided.

There was a long pause while she waited for him to call on someone to deliver their meal. After he did so (or unless he waited for her to say more), she asked him with a raised brow, "How good are you with a bow?"

Galt wasn't very knowledgeable with the laws of court or expected gender roles. While women were still mistreated on the streets, luckily there was a bit more diversity in terms of circumstance and personage. He had met a few girls who could outwit him or even beat him in a fight in certain situations. He wasn't one to underestimate someone due to their sex, and one look at Silke told him she was someone to be reckoned with.

He also figured she was a bit too proud to admit she wanted or needed help, but he honestly found it cute. Not in a 'quaint' way a noble might look down on an inferior, but a quirk he liked. He swiftly found he liked many things about her. He suddenly had images of her and he in his head, those of a romantic fashion. He tried to push them out of his mind, but he found they hung on the periphery, just waiting to be pulled back in. He gave her a wink when she agreed to lunch, and then called for one of the servants to bring them some food. He made sure to thank the man before he ran off to finish his task.

Galt awaited her to get to her feet, but the former-thief blinked when she asked him about archery.

He smiled curiously. "No, I never had the occasion." He said, wondering why she might be interested. Unlike a neighboring country or two, archery wasn't the national past-time here. He made sure to pull her chair out so she could take a seat, just as a gentleman would. Once she did so, he would take his own and recline in it, thinking on her question. "Bows are for hunters or yeomen, usually. Or that's what I hear from folk. When one is in the city and they want to do something less than legal, they tend to use crossbows. Slower but less uh, conspicuous. Hey, look at that. I'm using big aristocratic words already."

He grinned at himself, and some water was placed in front of them. "Oh, thank you," he told the maid. She gave a small bow and exited. Galt took a sip of the clear water, still amazed at how clean some water really could be. He was always surprised at how thirty one got after drinking a few sips. He supposed his body was just annoyed with him having neglected itself for so many years. Not like it was his fault...

"I'm handy with a knife, but bows I'm not familiar with." He admitted, placing the glass down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He realized as he did it he should have used a napkin and went for it, dabbing what was left. Why do you ask, Silke? Is there a tournament coming up? I'm afraid I wouldn't do very well in it."

As he finished the thought, steaming plates of food were laid before them. Galt found he was fairly famished. Beefs, lettuce, potatoes and butter were set in round, wooden plates. Utensils were placed before them, before the servants hustled away once more.

Silke hadn't expected him to pull the chair out for her. She nodded her thanks as she sat and listened attentively as he responded to her question. Archery was a skill she had honestly anticipated he wouldn't possess; still, it didn't hurt to inquire. A plan was forming in her mind of how she might be able to ease him into society without losing the momentum of his current reputation. Were he able to fire a bow competently it would have admittedly been more advantageous, though it was by no means critical. She would need to employ a little more figurative cloak and daggers, and she'd have to budget a touch more time to involve her brother to help train Galt on the basics, but she was confident about the general viability of what she was about to propose. The most unpalatable part of the endeavor would be that she might be cornered into revealing a secret she had no desire to expose.

Her fingers rapped thoughtfully on the wooden surface of the table. It was easy to forget how different a bustling metropolis was to the estates in which the nobility lived. There were aristocrats that lived in the cities, some as second homes, some because they didn't actually bother to live on the lands granted to them by the crown, and yet others because they had lost their holdings but retained their title. Regardless of the reasoning, those who stayed in the 'countryside' often scoffed at those whose primary home was in the city proper. They enjoyed gloating about the superiority of their sprawling mansions that were drowning in luxury. Silke wasn't invested in either side, but she was starting to realize her lack of familiarity with city life made her blind to important differences.

The subject would require more study later when she was alone and could afford to dwell upon it.

Galt's breach of etiquette- wiping his mouth with the back of his hand- earned him an amused smile. She wasn't the sort to stand on formality for the sake of it. There was a time and place for impeccable manners. Meeting an eligible bachelor in secret, to teach him finance and accounting, discussing using an ambush on bandits to gain him status, and ignoring the polite lines drawn in societal gender roles, was not the time to worry about protocol. To see him dabbing the edges of his mouth was somehow more humorous to watch then when he was behaving like a commoner in a tavern.

"Hunting is not an uncommon past time for noblemen," she explained briefly. Most (though not all) male members of the aristocracy learned various forms of combat. The sword was what most were taught, with axes, maces, and polearms being popular in their own right, and the bow being less favored. In times of peace, however, some had a yearning for the unique rush that could be found in combat, and hunting was the closest they could come to simulating that thrill. It was a convenient physical outlet as well for the athletically inclined.

Food was placed in front of them and she waited until the servants were out of the room before she continued. "You can't avoid social engagements forever, not if you want to make useful connections and have higher ambitions. It seems to me you want to avoid dinner dates where you are obviously paired with young ladies angling for marriage. Rest assured, any duke that invites you to a meal would likely seize the opportunity to match you to someone to whom they are connected, so going to dinner with a childless widower does not mean you'd avoid someone's daughter, niece, cousin, or the like. Hunting is a sport, however, so that is a different matter altogether. Women aren't expressly forbidden from going on hunts, but it is exceedingly rare," she said, flashing a smile. The coy expression communicated that of everyone he met that she was one of the exceptions to this unspoken rule.

She picked up her fork and knife and started to dissect her potato into delicate sizes. Silke was methodical. Potato was much less appetizing when it was cold, so she started with it, and would work her way around the plate from what was most critical to eat warm to least. "I can have my brother teach you the basics of the bow. I'll get us an invitation to a hunt and, once you perform well, it will bolster your image while avoiding the pesky topic of your being single," she concluded with a wink.

Precisely how he'd perform so well in the aforementioned hunt was not explained. Silke popped a piece of potato into her mouth and chewed. If he wanted her to divulge more of her plan, or give further detail, he was going to have to directly pose those questions himself. She was perfectly content to be quite vague on how she'd accomplish such a feat.

"Hunting," he chuckled softly, listening to her explanation. He was accustomed to hearing all manner of stories about the activity. He, nor anyone he was really close to, had ever hunting anything more than a rat. But there were many barroom tales of men who tried to hunt on an aristocrats land and barely escaping, either the animal or the foresters meant to extract justice and protect the precious meat from all those save the land's lord.

"I guess I could give it a try and attempt to learn the bow or spear." He reasoned, and placed some of the hot potato dumplings in his mouth. Gods, he still couldn't imagine being unsatisfied with the life of a noblemen. Food was one of the greatest pleasures in life, save maybe a good woman. "It would probably be smart to become good at some form of combat beyond the knife and my hands. I suppose I'll never know when someone wants to duel me over something."

He continued to listen to her brief education on his behalf. Hunting would probably be the most prudent way to keep away from prospective daughters and suitresses, not that he was against getting to know a pretty girl. But he found he was increasingly interested in another, despite her reservations. Shut up, you won't compromise her, he tried to tell himself. He wasn't sure if he was lying to himself or not. Galt had the chance to eat the lunch a bit more quickly than her from her monologue, and so once she was finished he had some time to take a sip of water and contemplate.

"Your brother?" He thought aloud, wondering why she couldn't teach him herself. He wasn't entirely sure if her brother was keen on being around him, and Galt had to admit he did wish to spend more time with Silke. The fact she was an exceptional female hunter was no surprise to him. She was an exceptional woman, getting more impressive by the day. With that in mind, he would do well to listen to her, regardless of his reservations. "I'll do what you advise. Though I've heard the bow is sort of hard to learn. Would it be months before I went on this hunt of yours?"

The dark haired thief raised an eyebrow, and placed his elbows on the table, entwining his fingers together. Somehow he had heard elbows on the table were bad manners, and yet he felt very lordly doing so. Much that he had heard or thought was likely merely popular perceptions from those who knew the high class very little. "I guess I would ask who you had in mind for me to hunt with. I'm sure the Duke would love to have me, even if my skills were terrible. But I feel like people might think me attached by the hip or hiding behind his ducal robes from meeting my other peers, even if it is the safe bet."

What would they even hunt? Deer? Call him soft-hearted, but a deer had never done him any harm. He had seen a few on the road during his life. They were always majestic and graceful. He was a meat eater, but eating sausage was different than making it yourself. In some ways, he guessed it was like living on the streets. Sometimes you had to get dirty and even kill to survive. He supposed he just didn't like the 'sport' of it, like the high class envisioned the activity. Suddenly, he had a thought. "And how much does your brother really know about me? And what should I keep hidden from him?"

"No, no, not a spear," Silke quickly countered, "that wouldn't work. It has to be a bow- at least for now. I can find you someone to tutor you in other weapons at your leisure. The sword is the most practical melee weapon," she commented thoughtfully as bit her lower lip in contemplation. Since he had the reputation of being a hero, she hadn't considered whether or not he might need further education on combat and self-defense. No one truly expected the country to go to war anytime soon, so it was incredibly unlikely he'd ever need to do anything more than friendly duels and exercises with some of the more athletically-inclined noblemen, but it wouldn't hurt to expand his skill set. Internally she chastised herself. Elevating Galt was a project for which she had taken full responsibility and she had overlooked securing a martial teacher.

Sitting back in her chair, she poked at her food with her fork. That she had such an oversight bothered her and, with one perceived 'wrong' in her planning, she was twice as anxious the rest. Silke was not afraid of defeat or setbacks; she had experienced many in her political career, if one could call it that. What bothered her was adding another party to the equation and potentially causing their failure. Galt still saw himself as a thief, a rogue, and a trickster to some degree. If he had been lacking in moral fiber and character, if he had been a true scoundrel, she wouldn't mind if her aspirations for him went unrealized. Because he was considerate and charming there was increased pressure that she placed on herself to succeed.

Her lips twisted upwards in amusement when Galt queried whether he'd be going hunting in a few months after he'd been schooled on the art of archery. The clever ruse she had in mind had escaped him through no fault of his own. He was a breath of fresh air that didn't hold to the biases and stereotypes of the aristocracy, who enforced dogmatic nonsense in the name of culture upon the wealthy. Patiently she waited for him to agree and finish making his questions. The time it took for him to speak gave her an opportunity to eat a few small bites of food.

"Vincent is..," she drifted off for a moment, trying to find the right words. "He's an honorable man, so he'll judge you through your actions, and not by your past, not that I've said anything about it myself. It's not my secret to tell. I've told him I have a good impression of you and I wanted to help you learn about being a nobleman. He doesn't need to know anything more than that," Silke said with a soft sigh. "If he knew I was helping you to climb higher instead of him he'd only be hurt. I adore him dearly, but he just... it wouldn't work with him. Being a count is almost more than he can handle honestly." For several long seconds she was completely quiet. Whenever she talked about her family, truly talked about them, she couldn't help but feel emotionally raw and vulnerable.

The melancholy hadn't quite left her gaze by the time she composed herself enough mentally to continue. "All you need is you need is to learn how to hold it properly. Accuracy isn't an issue. I'd imagine a week should be sufficient. Vincent is my first choice to tutor you, though I can secure someone else if you prefer. I can't teach you myself since of course ladies are inferior at such things," she explained in a light tone. "I attend hunts more as a companion than a competitor. Most of them are decent with an arrow but shoddy at tracking, so I point them in the right direction." Servants traditionally went with their employers, gathering arrows, securing the haul, and performing other menial tasks, so it was not unusual that there would be other people in the hunt than just the nobleman doing the hunting itself.

By the coy way she spoke and phrased herself, never outright saying how good she was personally with a bow, it was increasingly obvious that she wasn't as awful as she had fooled everyone into believing through their misogynistic assumptions.

"Count Thrule is my first choice for a host," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she nibbled on her lower lip in concentration. "He has a woodsman of some sort working for him that keeps his forest healthy, ensuring there is neither too few nor too many of any game. Of all the places to hunt, he's the best, and he isn't haughty. Everyone would understand if you accepted an invitation from Count Thrule, and it wouldn't look as if you were chasing after the dukes for better stature." Silke paused. "Ah, he has a daughter that just turned seventeen if you'd like me to make introductions. Like any other noblewoman, they'd expect courtship with at least a possibility of marriage. It wouldn't offend me at all if you would like me to help you make a match."

Silke was lying. It was not intentional nor overt. She lied in the way she held herself with confidence and strength, while her skin still had a unhealthy pallor and there was a flash of resigned weariness across her features intermittently. She lied in the way she reassured him she'd help him find a lovely girl, but the edges of her mouth subtlety tightened as if the sentence was sour in her mouth. She lied in pretending she didn't care that she could manipulate everything in his favor to make him crowned a duke, when she couldn't even show her competence with a bow.

"Well, if you think I could learn the bow in such a short amount of time, or however long you believe, then I believe you." He said, as surprised at himself as she likely was. He wasn't used to giving people the benefit of the doubt but one had to trust someone, no matter how cutthroat the world was. He had chosen Silke days ago for that role, he just hadn't figured that out at the time. He popped another dumpling in his mouth and chewed gingerly. "You've not led me astray so far, and if you're as competent with the bow as I suspect, then who better to listen to?"

Yes, she hadn't necessarily mad that claim, but he was as sly as anyone. He could see her manner and ascertain the gist of it. He even smiled with her conspiratorially when she played coy to show he knew her game, though briefly he took a sip of water to hide his smile growing wider. He didn't see everything behind her eyes, but that much he could guess.

"Vincent should suffice," He told her with an effete manner, though his smile had not quite escaped him. In fact he knew how transparently facetious he was being and he knew she could see it. "However, I insist you attend. The more the merrier, my lady, and it would do my heart a great service to see your radiance."

Had he been standing, he would have bowed to finish the performance, but it sufficed. He would take her advice on her brother, but he also figured she was far better than she let on and would appreciate her there beyond the fact she was familiar. Though it was nice to compliment her in a way that would not be taken seriously. If he was a poet he might have written a letter about her in a similar manner. Whenever she smiled, he truly did feel a certain radiance.

"I suppose I would like to learn the way of the sword," he said as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. He didn't think it would be too hard, considering how good with a knife he was. He had always been a natural with a blade. Of course there would be stark differences, but he far more nervous when it came to the bow. "But let's focus on that after I have consolidated myself." He said, not entirely sure if he had used the correct words but felt he had given his meaning. He finished up his meal over the next minute as he started to ponder. After Silke spoke of Count Thrule, he felt it was a good match until she mentioned the daughter. He nearly choked on his food.

"Uh, no." He said, beating his chest with his fist, taking the last sip of water left to help flush his food down. It was a bit too early in his career as a noble for him to look for a match, and he still felt very interested in Silke despite her misgivings. He just couldn't bring himself to do that just yet. "That's alright. She's a little too young for me, and I should focus on the hunt I think, don't you?"

There was a small pang of guilt as Galt declared he believed her if she thought he could learn the bow in that short a period of time. Making him a master of archery (or even halfway decent) within a week had honestly not been part of her plan. Hearing that he had such faith in her made her felt a touch undeserving. The understanding was clearly her fault for being so vague and coy about what she had in mind, and so she could see how he arrived at the conclusion he had. It was a habit of hers to keep all her figurative cards close to the chest. At home her brother and father were sincerely better of remaining ignorant, and when she was in court it was all a game, one she was required to play. Internally she sighed at her foolishness. She needed to be more direct.

"You needn't put such pressure on yourself. Archery is a skill that takes a while to develop," she began so it did not seem she was condescending him in any way. "I thought we might use a bit of subterfuge. On hunts it is understandably a challenge to know whose arrow struck the target if there are multiple shooters. For this reason the fletching or the shaft is distinctive so that they can be told apart. Since you will be new to the bow, you'll use a lower draw weight to start until you build up experience, and that lower draw weight will be similar to what I use. With a bit of misdirection and slight of hand, and you knowing the basics, you will be a very impressive and convincing hero, not that you aren't already." Silke flashed him a confidant smile. It was easier in concept than in execution, of that she was aware, but would be playing to their strengths of being able to mislead others for their benefit.

The smile on her lips faltered when Galt requested her attendance at his future lessons. Though the compliment brought a twinge of colors to her cheeks, her reaction was otherwise subdued, muted in comparison to his other flattery. "It was my brother Alistair that taught me how to use a bow. When I was younger I wanted to be able to do anything my big brothers could do. I'm not sure if Alistair took pity on me or couldn't tolerate any more of my whining, but he taught me in secret. Vincent would never approve. He loves and worries about me," she elaborated in a soft tone, "and though he has hardly any social aptitude, he knows how hard it is to change the mind of traditionalists like the nobility. My marriage prospects would dry up if it was revealed I had such a 'violent' and 'unladylike' talent, and he wouldn't want that to happen me, no matter how much he relies on me at home."

She shrugged as if it didn't matter, as if she didn't care at all about her ability to wed, as if she had given up on that part of her future. Silke had deliberately avoided the topic with him. Though they had danced around the subject of her single status, she hadn't divulged the real reason she had distanced herself from eligible men, or rejected romantic overtures. Undoubtedly Galt was curious, but she was afraid he would pity her- which was the last thing she wanted.

After nodding to his thoughts he would like learn to the way of the sword, she raised a brow as he choked on his food. For such a self-proclaimed flirt he certainly wasn't eager to enter into a dalliance with anyone. She had rather expected he might try to meet all the beautiful ladies the noble houses had to offer and then have difficulty settling on just one to officially woo. "And here I thought men preferred a woman in the 'prime of her youth,'" she gently teased coyly. The phrase was not her invention, but rather something she had heard on occasion, once even as a comment on her age.

"Ah, and that reminds me. You should... exercise caution when we are in the presence of my brother or you are talking to him about me. He is extremely," she paused, trying to find the correct word that didn't have too negative a connotation, "protective." Zealous, overbearing, and suffocating would have also applied in this context. "If he thinks you have the slightest bit of interest in me," Silke continued with a blush, "he'll be an absolute bear about it. Not that I need his saving, and you've made your intentions clear, but he is a little... paranoid."

Galt laughed, and it was full of mirth. He might not be familiar with courtly intrigues but switching an arrow or having identical fletchings to make him look good sounded very much like a tactic he would try in the back alleys, or at least along the same vein. He lifted his glass in a cheers and shrugged, still smiling. "Well, if that's how it works I'm game." He said. Of course, he still wanted to learn all he could about archery, but this was a good shortcut while he attempted to figure it out. The description of her calling him a hero also kept his mood high, despite her news that she wouldn't be present at the lessons.

"Very well, I'm sure we'll get along famously." Galt said, trying to convince himself as much as Silke. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a poor experience. Maybe their initial meeting at the banquet wasn't a catalogue of how he was with everyone. Silke encouraged it and so Galt would do so, though he wouldn't hold his breath on whether her brother would do it out of charity or not. Perhaps if all else failed, he could learn how to use a crossbow. Apparently they had more punch and needed less training than a traditional bow.

As he thought of his misgivings, Silke continued and gave him a warning of her brother as if his thoughts had manifested through her lips. Galt sighed, smiling. "It takes a lot for me to really get angry at someone, especially if they don't harm anyone physically. I'll keep my mouth shut and my intentions of flirtation to myself. I appreciate the warning though, honestly." Galt relayed, and he scratched his fine chin, wondering aloud. "I suppose these next few weeks will be busy for me. What are your plans while I'm off gallivanting in the woods? Not that we won't have any more of these economics lessons."

A thought popped into Galt's head, and he remembered an offer he was going to extend Silke's way. He leaned in, placing his cup down and speaking softly, as if they were sharing some sort of conspiracy. "By the way, I wanted to extend a similar courtesy to you. If you want that is... In my previous line of work, a good knife means the difference between life or death, and your guards can't be everywhere at once. What I'm suggesting is: I teach you the proper etiquette of knife fighting, in case you need to defend yourself one day and a bow isn't at the ready. I promise it's likely prudent for someone in your high status. A knife is the oldest tool known to man and it's uses..." Galt produced a dagger, as if he plucked it out of thin air, and twirled it betwixt his fingers for emphasis. "-are endless."

He leaned back and took his glass in his hand again, taking a casual sip as he sheathed the blade. He doubted she would take the offer, but he wanted to extend it. Galt was used to a 'take what you can, give nothing back' mentality, but Silke was doing so much for him. It felt wrong to not at least give her a few lessons in an art he both knew and would be relevant in his new lifestyle. "Your choice, of course. I just feel like it would be beneficial for you. It's saved my life more than once."

Relieved as she was to hear his understanding, agreement, and even approval of her plan, her smile faltered slightly at the decided lack of enthusiasm he had towards her brother. She genuinely wanted them to get along. Galt would make an excellent friend and ally for Vincent, since he was clever and charming, and though the heir to her family was very intelligent in his own right, it was not in the same ways as the former thief. They'd be able to compliment and support one another's strengths. There was also the fact that she thought they were two of the finest men of the court and, because of her fondness, she had an honest desire to see them get along. Still, she couldn't blame either of them for being apprehensive of the other as an unknown quantity and stranger.

"If it helps to know, he's not great with people," she offered so that anything Vincent said to Galt wasn't taken personally. "I'm sure you've met someone like that before," Silke remarked, since she had the sense he had spent a great deal of time around a wide variety of people and thus a spectrum of different personalities. "Since we were little he had a difficult time connecting with people, especially on an emotional level, and it became worse after..." she took a deep breath and paused, finding the strength to forge on ahead despite the pain the subject normally caused, "the death of our mother and brother, Alistair. Rather than keeping your mouth shut completely, you might try talking about what martial experience you do have, which he'll probably find interesting." It was the most helpful suggestion she could think of at the time, though there might be other topics on which they could connect in a positive way.

At the question of what she'd be doing the next couple weeks she couldn't help but laugh, one that was amused, weary, frustrated, content, and carried the tiniest amount of bitterness as well. Nothing he had asked was wrong, but she was reminded just how short a period of time he'd been in the courts to ask. Every member of the nobility (or nearly all) had come to understand the scope of her involvement in family affairs and duties. Had she been any other young female aristocrat, her time would be filled with learning 'gentle' arts, ordering fashionable gowns from the nearest dressmaker, enjoying the gentle serenity of a sitting room, and basking in the attentions of suitors who were eager for her dowry and reciprocated affections. At times she yearned for such an idle existence. It wouldn't have suited her or put her skills to use, yet she was enchanted by the idea of resting, of being able to relax in the knowledge that she didn't have responsibilities that she was the only one capable enough to handle.

Despite herself, and the compulsion to present a front of complete confidence and contentedness, she sighed. "I'm always busy. I manage the household estate- all the expenses, oversight of the men performing repairs, all the updates and replacements of furniture and necessities, all the servants, hosting events, approval of seasonal decor and landscaping, the menus, anything you could think of. The staff keeps records of our supplies, needs, and what our garden and livestock produce, but a member of the house must remain in charge and aware. I also manage my father and brother, to some extent; helping them solicit invitations to events of interest, assisting them in replies, corresponding with people to whom we are connected including distant relatives, and aiding them in calendars and carriages for their schedules. The count's duties fall to me more often than not as well- ensuring the tithes are collected, tax is calculated and paid to the king, tracking revenue, receiving reports of any issues with the lands or conflicts between the people, endorsing marriages, requesting relief from the crown if unavoidable disaster strikes, visiting problematic areas. There is always much to do," she said, which was a gross understatement. Although her father and brother had attended the father's feast, it had been abundantly clear that she also maintained much of the image and social presence for her family as well.

It was all too much for one person. In an ideal situation, most of it would fall upon the count and his wife, or the count and his heir, and in a worse situation it would be delegated to a trustworthy servant of high pedigree. For the Kaspers, almost everything was handled by Silke, even personal matters that the men ought to have done themselves. Perhaps she was coddling them. She couldn't deny it, that she hadn't let them struggle much before they intervened- though she was acutely aware that they could have dragged down their name and title if their failure was too great.

Galt's offer took her by surprise. He done so before, just not to the degree he had now, and she was knocked so off-balanced that she didn't think before she spoke. "I don't need to..." Silke began before she stopped herself. The appearance of the dagger didn't startle her and, the absolute lack of reaction to a source of harm and danger, was either an endorsement of her trust in her male companion or a sign she didn't have instincts to flinch away from a weapon. Given that she was not a warrior, she knew if he deduced the latter, he could and would be alarmed. That she had been intrigued, curious even, at the prospect of learning the knife, only to reject it hadn't done her any favors.

For a split second she started to panic he'd discover her awful secret- that she wasn't afraid of death at all, that she planned for it, that she expected it lurking around each and every corner. "No, I mean to say I'm not going to..." words failed her again. She took a deep breath and forced herself to not impulsively articulate the thoughts he brought to bear that ought never to be voiced aloud. Silke wasn't certain how to reject his offer without divulging or hinting towards the fact she didn't want to fight for her life. Archery, though a fun distraction and passion, was something she had picked up before she had been swallowed up in grief by tragic loss.

"I doubt I'd have the aptitude," she said then, trying to smile her way through the flimsy excuse. "People don't take me seriously enough to want to harm me," she added truthfully, "and if they did, I don't think anyone prefers Vincent being all the power behind the Kasper name."

Galt was perceptive, but he couldn't begin to understand her hesitance there. Many were unaccustomed to learning something that brought them into such close contact with an opponent. Bows, crossbows, polearms, even swords kept a level of distance between yourself and whoever you were fighting against, but knife fighting was the most up close and personal form of combat there was. At least, that involved blades. It made sense she would be hesitant, though he did see a small spark in her eyes when she saw him twirled the dagger before her. Maybe there was hope for her yet? He would ask her again later, perhaps once they had gotten to know the other better.

"As you wish, my lady. I just wanted to offer you the same kindness you showed me," He explained, presenting himself in a stressed formality to add some whimsy to the awkwardness.

---

On the appointed day, Galt found himself feeling a bit of trepidation. The ex-thief had gotten used to meeting with people he wasn't entirely familiar with, having gotten the basics down on when to scrape and when to bow and when to graciously welcome someone into his presence. He had even entertained Queen Morgase for a short time the other day, when she had been visiting to speak with the good Duke Valdemar of Mrugalstern whilst the king was entertaining guests from Grand Empire of Peregon. Galt had managed to find out from the most auspicious lady of the land that she had been the daughter of the rival of the current Emperor of Peregon. Galt had said something witty, gods he couldn't even remember it, but evidently she had gushed about him to King Heraclad III. Galt felt that was good.

Right? So he hoped, at least. As he bumped along within the carriage, he recalled how making a reputation for yourself on the streets was either an extremely good or a horribly bad aspect to gain. Fear and notoriety helped one to do a job, but it also put a target on one's back. He wondered if word had gotten out already, and if Silke's brother would be more or less pleasant with such knowledge. Either way, he would suck it up and learn the bow if it was the last thing he would do.

He glanced out the window as he entered the gates of the Kasper residence, passing by iron embellishments in the shapes of lions and statues of mythic creatures he did not have the pedigree to recognize. Eventually, the carriage was dragged by the well manicured ferns and brush of the front lawn, and a stately looking man, likely a chamberlain, awaited him by the stone stairway leading up to the large oaken door once he slowed to a stop.

He wondered about her brother not being present to greet him, but he supposed it didn't overly matter. Galt didn't know if Silke was here or not, and though he imagined she was on the premises, he couldn't guess if he would see her. He hoped he would, as it always made the time go by quicker. She had said she wouldn't be present for the lessons, but he guessed he still rather held out some hope for it.

If only he had bow lessons with the Queen.

The Kasper Estate was nestled on what had once been a meadow a very, very long time ago. The house faced east, to embrace the sunrise. A dense forest lay to the north and and west, and to the south was a river- or at least it was called one, though arguments were occasionally raised as to whether it was large enough to be considered such. It was the most desirable real estate in the countdom which was why the location had been chosen. Though the Kasper family had, for generations, been elegant lords and ladies that dressed in the latest fashions and could always be found at court, they greatly valued their privacy as well. For them it was not just a home, it was a retreat, a sanctuary of tranquility where they could recharge after long days of politicking.

Since the death of the late Countess Kasper, there was less attention paid to decorating the estate for the seasons. There was no festive adornment wound around banisters, porch railings columns, or the like; however, there were small elegant planters bursting with brightly colored roses at the edge of every step. It was the one costly indulgence the family had year round, rotating the blooms into their greenhouse when necessary, because it had been the matriarch's favorite flower. Silke spared no expensive in the respectful reminder of their beloved departed.

"Count Harrowmark," the chamberlain intoned as he bowed. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, which was not itself unusual, but his use of a cane was given that he was not that elderly. Since it was a time of relative peace, and he was not the sort that would be called to serve in battle, any physical disability he suffered likely preceded or occurred during his tenure at the estate. Many nobles- most truly- would have been worried about their images if they had a lame head of staff and would have dismissed him rather than have him greet their guests.

"I am Franz. Please follow me," he further greeted before pivoting on his heel and climbing the steps. He was surprisingly agile; he couldn't ascend as quickly as an athletic Galt, but his ailment didn't have an overly large impact on his speed. "Lady Silke and Lord Vincent have been expecting you." At the top of the stairs he opened the door and led the young count inside, his pace quickening slightly now that he was on firm ground.

The interior of the estate was cozy. Elaborate woven carpets were carefully placed on the floor to give a warmth to the building and there were portraits and tapestries displayed both in the foyer and on the walls of the central hallway that they strode along. A grand staircase curved towards the second floor and there too were many different decorations tastefully placed but leaving very little of it feeling cold and barren. All the furniture was a rich, dark stain of wood, closer to black than white, and the upholstery was in various shades of either a dark blue or green. Blown glass vases were on many tabletops they passed, filled with various types of flowers in all sizes and colors.

Franz didn't tarry or explain the rich history of the estate. He wasn't an impolite man, he was merely following directions to escort Galt promptly to 'the' office, which ought to have been Count Johann Kasper's office. Even before they reached the room it was very clear this was not the case. Out of the slightly ajar door drifted the voices of the siblings who were, by the sound of it, bickering over something both unrelated to and directly related to their guest.

"Vincent, I am not declining all your social invitations," Silke said firmly in a tone that brokered no argument. "Curse me all you like. I've enough to do without coddling your inability to hold a conversation with an eligible lady your age."

"I'm doing you a favor teaching your friend archery! A friend, I might add, is a man. The least you could do is decline those absurd invitations on my behalf," Vincent proudly rebutted, purposefully ignoring the fact his sister sounded as if she could conjure his murder out of thin air a second prior. "Besides, I know how to talk to any woman I meet."

"All I do for you are favors. Perhaps you should ask my man friend how he manages to talk to women without making an absolute mess of himself. Did I hear correctly that you told young Lady Helene that she had a wonderfully small head? And that you thought that was a compliment?"

At this the edges of Franz's lips twitched in amusement that he couldn't conceal. He shrugged and gestured towards the door as if to indicate to Galt he could elect the moment he wanted to be announced and join the brother and sister. The chamberlain would make the decision himself, of course, if the young man before him was reluctant, but he saw no harm in letting him eavesdrop for a bit either if he so chose.

There was a blustering noise as Vincent 'harumphed,' snorted contemptuously, and made a squeak of embarrassment all in the same instant. "It is true, and who would like a woman with a large head?" the young lord of the house countered, though he was much more subdued than he had been, realizing he had been bested despite not wanting to conded the point.

"It's truly shocking you haven't managed to wed, Vincent, absolutely beyond my comprehension," Silke mumbled to herself as she scratched her quill on parchment, writing a response to an invitation agreeing that yes, her dearest brother would be delighted to join a dinner party happening in the next couple days. It was fine. He didn't know his schedule well enough to object in advance, and once she sent the response he would be obligated to attend if he wanted to save face, which he would.