Galt wasn't unimpressed. He had seen King Heraclad III's castle and the Duke's manor, and yet somehow he was continually startled at the well furnished carpets and the artistry hanging on the walls like common furnishings. And yet there was somehow a hominess to the place, as if he could imagine waking up here and thinking of it as a comfortable place to reside. He didn't know what gave it that quality, but perhaps it was the fact it did not have vast swathes of unneeded space like the palace or the duke's home. This was made for a family; a large home for one to be sure, but people would meet here in adequate rooms, not a great hall or a dining area fit for a banquet.

The chamberlain seemed friendly enough. He was the kind of man who would scowl at someone like Galt a mere month ago and shout at him, but when one had money he was all smiles and even charismatic to a point. It sounded pessimistic, but truthfully Galt didn't blame him. Franz was in charge of the family's affairs and served them at their pleasure. Had it been a month ago, Galt would only be here to steal or to plead his innocence on any other number of crimes. Still, it was strange being on the other side of the coin. Nice, though.

They made it to the office, having passed various vases of flowers Galt did not recognize. The house had a sweet, pleasant scent to it he quite liked. Halting at the door, Franz and he went still when they heard voices. Galt immediately recognized Silke, and he had a good ear for voices and could tell she spoke to her brother even before her familiarity became apparent. The chamberlain's lips quirked into a smile as the conversation went on, and Galt felt a smile of his own blooming on his face.

He wished he had grown up with siblings, or at least remembered the ones he had. He felt a bit envious of the conversation, as frustrating as it was for the two involved. Silke was as forthright and clever as ever. Galt liked her being sweet and smiles with him, but he somehow found it compellingly attractive when she was verbally trouncing someone within earshot. There was a fire to her and a whip-like wit that he admired. Maybe someday she would be familiar enough with him to speak so, though he didn't expect them to ever get on one another's nerves quite like her brother did.

Her brother was boorish and every bit like Galt remembered from the dinner when he had been presented before the aristocracy, though it was something he had mentally prepared for. He almost felt bad for the fellow. Galt was sure he could run circles around the man with his own mental games, but it probably wouldn't do to try and it really served no likely purpose. He was just here to learn the bow and to keep up appearances. That would keep Galt busy enough. Gods knew he had fretted over it with anxious trepidation these past days.

Galt lifted his hand to the door and made the knocking gesture with two curled fingers, raising an eyebrow to Franz. The man snickered and looked down for a moment, before nodding and knocking on the door himself. When they were called to come in, Franz pulled the door open and gave a bow, clearing his throat and announcing Galt with a loud and clear: "Allow me to present Count Harrowmark, here for the appointed meeting." The chamberlain then stepped to the side so Galt might step in.

The thief did so, smiling easily. "I wasn't interrupting, was I my lord and lady? I can wait downstairs if you'd like?"

"It's not really an interruption if it's a conversation we've had before," Silke replied with a gregarious smile. There was no use denying that she and her brother had been in the midst of a debate when Galt was announced. She was familiar enough with Franz and how far voices carried in the house that she was reasonably certain that they had been overheard. Regardless, it hadn't been a sensitive topic or secret either. With a few more weeks of court under his belt, the new count would hear all sorts of stories about Vincent Kasper, including how he had the uncanny ability to stick his foot in his mouth any time there was an attractive lady nearby.

The office was just as cozy as the rest of the house, though twice as cluttered. Silke sat in a tall chair behind a large desk, both of which were in front of a window that took up the majority of one wall. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn to the left and right, bound back by thick cord, creating an image of antiquated elegance. Warmth was lent to the room through plush upholstered chairs for visitors, a few oversized rugs in saturated jewel tones, and wooden furniture that had a dark stain. The entire wall to the right was a bookcase filled with texts, papers, scrolls, and decorations befitting a nobleman. To the left were side tables, a small liquor cupboard, and portraits of not Kasper ancestors, but legendary heroes with artistic license.

"Since you're Silke's friend," Vincent said, sticking out his hand, "just call me Vincent. If it's all right by you, I'd rather avoid the titles." He was, as his sister so often described him, a little more gruff than most people willingly tolerated. Despite being a bit abrasive, as well as a touch awkward, he was sincere in his invitation to be addressed by his first name. Unlike his fellow aristocrats, he also didn't look at Galt with any condescension or judgment; rather, his rough disposition was the same as it would be for anyone else. "I've heard you have a little combat experience?" he asked with interest.

Before Galt could hope to reply for himself, Silke interjected. "You've promised to focus on the bow, Vincent." She had pushed some of her paperwork to the side. There were stacks of parchment piled up on her desk, all neatly and organized and arranged, though the sheer volume of work was overwhelming. At a glance it was evident that she did, in fact, handle all the administrative work that was typically the responsibility of the count. Accounting ledgers, staff records, tax receipts, other assorted documents were completed or reviewed by her rather than the elder Johann Kasper.

Vincent cast a glance towards Silke as his lips tugged downwards in a frown. "I keep my promises, Silke, but it does make a difference. It'll be easier to teach anyone who has some level of coordination, agility, and sense about them. My sister didn't volunteer what experience you have," he said with a shrug as he carefully appraised the younger count, "and I won't pry. We'll practice half a day. Any more would be too much even for a knight," he decided. "You should be fine to go on a hunt without making a fool of yourself."

Franz cleared his throat. "My lady, since Count Harrowmark's arms will be tired after spending so much time with the bow, perhaps you could take him riding. It is my understanding that some skill with horses may help on the lord's first hunt," the chamberlain offered hopefully. "And, if I may, it would do my lady some good to spend time in the sun," he more gently suggested. There was obvious reason for the servant's concern. Well-dressed and composed as she was, Silke's complexion was poorer than the last time Galt had seen her, and she seemed worn. It wasn't difficult to imagine she had slept little as she toiled over all the little tasks she handled on a daily basis.

For her part, Silke hesitated, looking between the three men, and then at all the things still waiting for attention on the desk. Her long, delicate fingers were stained with black ink from spending the early hours of the morning toiling away responding to countless correspondence addressed to her father, her brother, and herself, as well, including some of the aforementioned invitations. "I'm sure Count Harrowmark would prefer to take a rest after spending so much time practicing archery..," she said uncertainly.

This put Vincent in an awkward position. On one hand, he didn't want to encourage his sister to spend time alone with a man, one who might actually have the charm and means to win her over romantically. On the other hand, he was concerned about his only sibling, and the former thief was an excellent excuse to get her out of the house for a breath of fresh air. He carefully weighed his options for a mere second or two before deciding Silke's well-being trumped all his fears about her being stolen away. Though he wasn't the best older brother she could ask for, and he caused her grief constantly, he fiercely loved her more than he'd admit. "You should take him on a ride to see the grounds, as hostess," he announced. "He is your guest."

Galt stepped into the comfortable office and found it was one of the few times the previous six weeks he did not feel like a fish out of water. Of course it mostly had to do with Silke, but the lack of ceremony save for Franz performing his duty certainly helped. The office also seemed entirely personal, save for the evident trappings of nobility. Real work could be conducted in here, much like any clerk or healers area. He doubted there were many heads of state adjourning within these walls. He gave a slight smile at Silke's dismissal of any sort of interruption, not surprised at her manner.

Vincent was a different matter, on the other hand. Yes, he had a gruff manner about him. But the informal attitude surprised Galt. He had expected her brother to be overly protective of her or at least skeptical on why he had to waste his time on an upjumped cutthroat, but he saw none of that. Either he was more mature than Galt had given him credit for, or Silke had given him a thorough talk before he had arrived. Either way, maybe the archery lessons would not be entirely horrible. "Very well, Vincent. You can simply call me Galt. I've grown a bit tired of Count Harrowmark, at least in most instances. Sometimes I still feel a bit of awe at the existence of the title at all, and Silke could-."

Galt laughed, almost saying 'Silke could call me anything' that would go from familiar to something else. He stopped at that awkwardly and continued. "And I do not know how strenuous a half a day with the bow is, but I trust I can still ride afterwards, particularly if it would do Silke some good. I did have to ride a horse to save my life, after all. I can manage an afternoon ride," His grin was infectious, one hand on his hip as he spoke to the siblings. "Perhaps that will help both Silke and I find some rest later, if we've both had some light exercise."

"Yes, I would advice my lady to find some rest. This would be a fine excuse," Franz added, inclining his head politely so as to still appear subservient. Though clearly the man was worried about his mistress. Galt found he liked him already, and Vincent would perhaps grow on him. He supposed they would also have refreshments available. Aristocrats always had refreshments available, it was uncanny but exceedingly fun. Galt wasn't getting fat, but if he let his guard down he would certainly be in danger of it.

"I agree with Franz. Plus, I would love to see your lovely estate." Galt assured them, and turned to face Vincent, though his eyes often drifted back to Silke as he spoke. "But as for now, let us get to the art of uh, shooting. I do have experience in fighting, but I am unfortunately inexperienced at anything more complex than a crossbow, and I've heard it on good authority that such a device is a cowards weapon. That wouldn't do."

The confidence that Galt displayed about their afternoon ride made Silke raise a brow. "Oh, I didn't realize you had become a master horseman since we last met. I'll keep that in mind when planning our outing," she replied with amusement. A mischievous smile alighted on her lips that offered no hint as to whether she was teasing or seriously plotting to test his limits. Truthfully she was undecided. The Kasper lands had more difficult trails that the family took when they were feeling adventurous. While the forests at the edges of the property were preserved partially for privacy, and because it would be costly to domesticate them, there was a beauty in the wilderness that everyone enjoyed. Only their finest, and most spirited, steeds were able to be taken on these barely-marked paths. If she wished to show the count the best sights of her home, he'd be challenged more than he had been with the older, calmer mare he had after the feast.

"Well, since I am outnumbered on the matter of my exercise," she said with a sigh and unladylike roll of the eyes, "I have no choice. Franz, may I rely on you to pass word to the stables?" Silke inquired, smiling gently as he nodded his head in acknowledgment. It was easy to see why she was reluctant to leave her desk. With so many administrative matters awaiting her review, approval, and response, there was no shortage of work. Noblemen would delegate tasks they couldn't complete, or prioritize time for themselves, but over the years the youngest Kasper's identity had been nothing more the pillar that supported her family. She lived and breathed her duties, be they social or tangible.

Vincent watched the exchange quietly. He was terrible at reading a room, and even worse at making small talk, but he knew his sister. Using Galt to get her to leave the office irritated him, the little tour could easily become romantic, and he didn't entirely trust any man who wasn't dumb, deaf, and blind around Silke. Despite his reservations, and the former thief's wandering gaze, there wasn't anything objectionable to the man... yet. He was serving a purpose, not an idiot, and wasn't arrogant about his fighting capabilities. This was someone he could work with.

"Let's go before she finds a way to talk herself out her commitment," he mumbled to Galt.

"What's that, elder brother? You think I'm the one trying to escape commitments? I can always reply to these invitations with promises of your attendance instead," she threatened, waving one folded piece of parchment for effect. Franz kept his composure as Vincent retreated out of the room, roughly tugging Galt along, all too afraid that Silke would carry through on her threat. The tips of his ears burned in a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

Once they were down the hall a bit (and Silke's laughter that immediately followed their departure had faded away), Vincent slowed his gait. Clearing his throat to regain his composure, and squaring his shoulders, he soldiered on verbally. He had never been an eloquent man for most topics. When it came to athletic endeavors, however, he was well-spoken and confidant, without being overbearing. There wasn't as much ambiguity to weapons training as there was to dealing with cunning courtiers and coy maidens. "There isn't anything shameful about handling a crossbow," he said pragmatically, "but it has its flaws. Bows come in a variety of draw weights to capitalize on the strength of the wielder. In addition they are quieter, which is why they are used for hunting, and have a greater range."

Vincent shrugged to himself as he led Galt down the corridor and towards a different set of stairs that were in the rear of the building. "Pompous, lazy fools call them a coward's weapon, but in a real war, the enemy won't care about your sense of honor. I'll teach you any weapon you want to learn," he said, genuinely passionate about empowering others to defend themselves.

"I appreciate it, my lord. But if it's all the same to you, let's focus on the bow today. Maybe if it's a success I'll come back for more formal training with the sword or spear." Galt remarked. Luckily these last weeks have given him plenty of opportunity to practice his accent, chipping away at the small low-born idiosyncrasies to sound positively posh. Silke wasn't fooled, of course, but most others would be. If you wanted to be a thief, sometimes you had to act, and that required some voice training.

The next few hours were less stressful than Galt would have thought. Once he actually got passed the basics of holding a bow and what fingers to use when firing, he found it was actually a fun experience. Experimenting on arcs and gauging a target with his keen eye. Vincept wasn't overtly hostile. In fact, he was a fine teacher, passionate on the art of war as a good noble should be. He made a few jokes at Galt's expense, and at one point called him a 'blasted cheeky fellow' but otherwise, Galt found he and Vincent got on fairly well. Of course, when Vincent brought up Silke, bluntly trying to pry on if Galt had any intentions with her, Galt maneuvered out of that line of questioning as quickly as possible.

"You're catching on swiftly. Silke said you were a quick study." Vincent congratulated. He stood watching as Galt drew another arrow from his quiver to line up a shot.

"I'm flattered she would mention me," Galt replied, honestly. It brought a small thrill to his chest, but he did well to hide it.

"You should be, she keeps her cards very close to her chest." Vincent replied. "I'm certain you appreciate many of her assets."

Galt nearly fumbled his shot, but made sure to halt on firing for a moment. After giving Vincent a questioning look, he took the shot and managed to get within a foot of the bulls-eye. Not too bad, though Vincent could certainly do better. Galt dropped the bow from his eyeline and went to grab another arrow. "She's been very helpful these past weeks. I'm quite grateful."

"I am as well, to have her as a sister. Though she often bites off more than she can chew, though she'll deny it. Try not to take up too much of her time."

Galt agreed halfheartedly and with a noncommittal response, and they continued for another few hours until Galt's arms were about to fall off. By that point, it was early afternoon and they grabbed a quick bite to eat before Vincent gave Galt a farewell and an encouraging word (in his manner) before letting Galt meet with Silke by the stables. The ex-thief found her there next to a nobleman, one he had never seen before. The articulate man and woman were discussing marriage, and at first he was intensely suspicious until he heard exactly what they were speaking of and his heart raced with...anxiety? Dread? He gave the lord a bow as he took his leave, trying to hide his fretful thoughts.

"Well, that was not so bad. I'll feel it in the morning, but I think I am getting the hang of the bow." He told her, rubbing his shoulder. "Worst part is the endurance. But we can talk on it when we're off. As well as other things."

It was roughly lunchtime when Lord Byrne arrived at the estate on his steed, a spirited young stallion named Endless, that they hoped to breed in the future to one of the Kasper's purebred mares. Silke knew immediately he had brought Endless specifically to help coax her into squeezing a meeting into her busy schedule. All the nobility knew how challenging it could be to make an appointment with her, not because she was unkind or unaccommodating, but because she over-committed herself. If it was a trick it was a successful one because she had gone outside to meet him, walking towards the stables. Little did the gentleman know what a fortunate coincidence it was since she was heading in that direction anyway to prepare for the afternoon ride.

On the way to the stables they casually chatted, the small talk that was always a prelude to a more serious topic. Silke quite liked Lord Byrne. He was a tall, handsome man, intelligent, articulate, a little more than ten years her senior, and thankfully not at all interested in women. Officially he was married, but his bride had just as little interest in men as he did in women, and so they had a quiet arrangement where neither expected any sort of romance. The person who had helped facilitate such an unusual match was none other than Lady Kasper herself.

Most importantly, Lord Byrne was fiercely loyal to Silke as a friend, even if they were not especially close. He respected her, he sympathized with her suspected lack of interest in marriage (though he didn't know the nature of her aversion), and he felt indebted to her for keeping his secret without his needing to ask her to do so. They were kindred spirits of a sort- movers and shakers in the court that didn't necessarily conform to its unspoken rules.

"I've come to tell you of a rumor I've heard," he admitted softly. "You're aware of the tension we have with our northern neighbors?" Lord Byrne paused in the grass near the stables, allowing Endless to graze as they spoke.

"Yes, of course. Are you all right?" Silke asked, furrowing her brows in concern. "You look flushed. Should I have someone fetch you some water at least?"

Lord Byrne waved off her question. "No, that's not necessary. Let me first tell you what brought me here. There's been increased discussion that there should be a marriage between the northern kingdom and our own to help improve relations. Since they have no royalty they either can offer or are willing to offer, there is an archduke that is yet unwed whose name has been floated as a candidate on their side."

Silke frowned. If Lord Byrne was here discussing this matter with her with such a sense of urgency, she had a sense she knew where this was going. The king wouldn't offer up any of his own relatives in exchange for anything other than a prince. Since an archduke's hand was what was being offered, that meant his eyes would be turned towards the nobility, of which she was a member. In fact, she was the most famously single female member of the aristocracy.

"You should prepare yourself. The rumor is that the North is interested in the 'sparkling jewel' of our kingdom's court, especially since they know you are unmatched. Silke..." he paused. It wasn't entirely proper to address her by her first name, but he stepped forward anyway, taking her hands in his own as he stared down into her face. He was worried. "Our noblemen aren't all opposed. Some argue we couldn't lose you, but others believe you should do what is best for the kingdom."

"I can't possibly!" Silke said, outraged at the idea of being traded to the northern kingdom as if she were a commodity, a prize, a reward for them not being quite so hostile. "Even if I were willing, we both know if I'm that far away my father and brother wouldn't be able to handle all the responsibilities I've taken on their behalf."

He paused. Lord Byrne squeezed her hand, preparing her for the worst case scenario, something that had not yet occurred to her because her head was spinning. "You should come up with a plan and quickly. If enough voices clamor for it, someone of higher station, even the king himself, could order you to accept the proposal. There's not much I can do for you except warn you of the whispers. Were I not already blissfully married," he remarked dryly, releasing her hand and stepping back, "you know I would take you for my own beloved and let you have the run of the house. The gods know you could run it twice as well as I do."

"Yes, well, that is true," Silke replied with a smirk. "I'm about to go on a ride," she said, noticing for the first time that Galt was nearby. She wasn't certain how long he had been there or how much he had heard. "Would you care to stay for dinner? You can explain to Vincent why he needs to attend all the events I just accepted for him this morning."

Despite himself, Lord Byrne grinned, amused at the idea of trying to persuade Vincent that any level of socialization was a worthy endeavor. There were wild hogs that were more friendly. "Yes, of course. I'll make myself scare. Three's a crowd after all. I'll make my introductions to the count after your ride," he offered, handing Endless off to a stable boy, bowing to Silke and Galt, and striding towards the house. The Kaspers were well-known for their generous meal sizes and cook who believed everything was better with butter.

When Galt first saw Lord Byrne, he had a sickly notion he was witnessing the reason Silke had thus far been unable to return his flirtations, at least to a point. He thought he recognized the man too, albeit vaguely. Likely he had seen him at the banquet at his coronation, or perhaps in the crowd during the ceremony. Either way, he had gotten close enough to the two to overhear a bit of their conversation. He was used to eavesdropping, but somehow with Silke he felt a bit guilty, even if he actually hadn't meant to eavesdrop at all. He simply had arrived and halted for a few brief moments so he would not interrupt.

But what he heard made his blood run cold. His head burned a bit, and he had to take a few long, deep breaths to calm himself. Even with the smell of horse and straw, he thought it might help. Galt found he was surprised at the reaction his body was getting at this honestly unsurprising news. It would be normal for Silke to be married off, wouldn't it? Still, she seemed so confident it was not to happen that he had started to believe her, and that perhaps they might...

No, he wasn't going to be immature about this. He breathed in through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. An old trick he had been taught when in tight situations, and he simply stepped out into the doorway and approached the two. He nodded to Lord Bryne as the nobleman walked past him, exchanging quick pleasantries before Galt found himself standing before Silke. "I just ate, but I admit I am looking forward to dinner as well." He said by way of conversation, though the words fell out of his mouth like stones, amounting to nothing but filler.

"I heard what he said. I um..." Galt crossed his arms, unsure of what to say to her. Should he comfort her? Tell her he would do whatever she asked? That would be overstepping it, but it's certainly how he felt at the moment. That very notion confused him too. He was acting like a street urchin. "I wish I could say something that would change the reality of the situation, but maybe the rumors aren't entirely true? I'm no stranger to such things. Whispers can amount to gold or dust, depending on who's lips they escape from." Galt had spread more than a few himself in his day, and the ex-thief leaned against the stall, the horse behind it nickering.

"If they are true though, I know marriage isn't your thing." Ok, that was stupid to say. It was true, but also an uncouth way of putting it. He knew she worried of her family most of all. "But you would want to stay here, regardless. Perhaps we could get married and save yourself taking the trip up north." He said with a wink. He was joking, but he spoke in a way that exuded confidence, almost a smugness, like any good joke of the sort would.

While she didn't know precisely how much Galt had overheard, Silke expected it was just enough to make him feel awkwardly uncomfortable. Internally she had predicted that the former thief would either feign ignorance, distract her with a joke, or be attempt to console her, though he wouldn't know how, as neither he nor anyone else knew why she avoided marriage. As he related he wished he could change the reality of the situation she gave a small smile. The count sympathized with her plight, and she wasn't certain if that made it better or worse. On one hand she was glad to have another ally that was respecting her choice, while on the hand she didn't relish the idea being seen in such a pitiable state, trapped between her agency and duty to her country.

"Lord Byrne wouldn't have rushed over here unless he was convinced it is a serious issue," she told him carefully. "He's not much of a gossip either, so if it's reached his ears, it has spread through a significant amount of the nobility. Truly I ought to be able to do more to repay him other than provide dinner and a chance for him to chastise my brother," Silke sighed. Had she been free to divulge why the nobleman was so loyal to her, and why she trusted him so thoroughly, she would have done so. Because they were not her secrets to keep, however, she couldn't explain to anything to Galt.

Galt proposed. His offer wasn't serious, was accompanied by a wink and smirk, and was delivered with a casual confidence, but the gravity of her predicament struck her at that moment. Since her mother and brother had died she had taken great pride in her independence. Without any fanfare, Silke had strode forward like a conqueror, refusing to allow herself to be restrained by societal norms. She had educated herself beyond what any lady was taught (or what was considered proper). She had taken on all her family's responsibilities, regardless of whether they were traditionally managed by men. She had manipulated and maneuvered her way through the courts, ignoring customs and traditions, and spent just as much or more time conversing with noblemen as noblewomen. She had entered into business ventures and signed contracts, despite questions about how much a member of her sex could understand the subject, and had flourished.

Yet, no matter how successful she had been, there was no simple solution to her current issue. The brighter she shone, and the more attention she brought to herself, the louder the questions about her marital status seemed. People were unsatisfied at the possibility of her remaining unwed and sooner or later, there was a possibility her hand would be forced politically, either by aristocrats of higher station or the prospective groom himself.

Silke became abruptly aware she had been staring at Galt silently. Her mouth opened and closed once as she tried to gather her thoughts and formulate an equally witty response. Typically when she dealt with the other gender she found some fault in their character or appearance, fixated on it, and allowed it to become large enough in her mind that she could reject them without difficulty. Instead of gazing upon her companion and finding such a fault, she had unconsciously admiring him- and there was quite a bit to admire. She liked how his eyes twinkled with mischief, how his smile made his entire face brighten with warmth, how his hair was never quite as coiffed as all his stuffy peers, how he had the slightest bit of swagger in his stride without being arrogant, how when he listened he turned his entire attention on her, and how he was respectful even when he was teasing. Count Harrowmark was a handsome man beyond the cut of his jaw and square of his shoulders.

"Are you already trying to find a way to escape your accounting homework?" she asked. She suspected he knew that she had paused because she was giving his joking proposal a very serious consideration, but she had her pride, and wasn't eager to capitalize on her foolishness. "Lord Byrne is correct that I would have run his house twice as well as he does. There's hope for you yet, though, to be almost as good as I am," she jested as a stablehand very tentatively approached, handing her reins for a large bay horse, and for him a chestnut, both of which were saddled and prepared for the ride.

Leading the bay away from the barn, she continued. "Imagine all the hearts you would break. The most attractive and charming bachelor in the kingdom suddenly snatched from the market." Silke made a tsking sound and shook her head dramatically. There wasn't any hint of deception in her statement because she was being honest and framing it within a joke. She was trying to act as if she wasn't tempted, as if she wasn't panicked at the prospect of being sent north, as if she didn't feel like her world was crumbling around her piece by piece. "An engagement announcement would have made for a very exciting dinner," she mused aloud sounding a little dejected to her own ears.

It had been a joke.

He had meant it as such, certainly. Galt was forthright (for a thief), but he wasn't so forward when it came to something as serious as matrimony. He felt Silke would wave it off and get her impeccable mind to calculating some sort of scheme that would get her out of her predicament, and yet... and yet she looked at him meaningfully. She looked at him in a way a woman had never looked at him before. In the way that drew him in, and he realized at that moment he wanted her to gaze upon him like that for the rest of his life.

The thought struck him like a hammer pounding an anvil. He didn't think one could read his mind by his small flushing. Like as not Silke would think he was embarrassed by her staring, or they were simply sharing another one of their lingering looks they so often gave one another but never spoke of. Weeks ago he had convinced himself he had been the only one interested, that it wasn't mutual. If she fancied him at all, she fancied him for being new, and perhaps his exciting rise to station piqued her interest, but nothing more surely. Now, however, he realized he had been an idiot.

He decided to play along, guiding out his chestnut steed as she began a pleasant fiction of him attempting to get out of learning his lessons. He smiled somewhat ruefully, trying to grapple with his thoughts and thinking of nothing else but just how clever she was. He even laughed at the joke, though her comment on how attractive he was set his heart racing. By the time she finished, he had stopped his horse, and it was entirely noticeable to Silke. He took a moment to gather himself, though he did not even know that was what he was doing. It was almost like he was watching someone else in his own body. He wrapped the reins of his steed around his arm so his hands were free, and he approached her.

Galt took her hands in his, his calluses against her soft skin, and only then was he aware of what he was doing. And he committed, though he felt as if he was only moments from shaking.

"If I became your husband, you could teach me everything you wished to and more, whenever you wished. We would...eat dinner together and laugh together, and there would be nothing that we could not accomplish. I..." He ran his thumbs over her slim hands, his dark eyes lifting up to bore into hers. He was already drowning in her eyes. He had never felt his flight response more than this moment, and somehow he also wanted to never leave this place.

"Let's make that announcement. Let's let the people gossip and complain and fret." He ended that last word in a short breathy chuckle, as if he couldn't wait to hear what ridiculous things people had to say. "Ever since I became a lord, all the money and food and luxury has not been what's run through my thoughts. It's been you." Galt fell to a knee on the grass. They had always done that in the tales, and somehow it felt right. Gods, what was he saying? It was a miracle he could breathe. "And if you would have me, Silke, I would be honored to be your husband."

The moment he took her hands she was frozen in shock. It shouldn't have been that much of a surprise; their playful banter had edged on flirtatious and they were two young, unwed individuals spending time alone together. Silke was aware she wasn't quite an unattractive old crone (despite the mutterings of disgruntled matrons of the court), and she had received prior romantic overtures, but none of them had been like this.

All of the noblemen of the past had approached her motivated by pride or responsibility. Many of them, most in the last couple years, saw her as someone whom was a challenge to conquer, and arrogantly believed themselves so superior that she would be falling over herself, flattered by their attention. Others fancied a match because of her pedigree and social ties with various members of the aristocracy, or were obligated to wed to create heirs, or suspected she had a large dowry, or merely wanted to put her down a peg, and keep her under their thumb. While their reasons differed, and a few were admittedly infatuated, they didn't truly know here. Not a single suitor coveted her wit, her intellect, her keen insight, or business acumen. They craved the mirage of Silke that smiled prettily and without cunning.

The confession itself stunned her. Typically an impeccable model of composure, she was at a loss as the affectionate words tumbled from his lips, each one seemingly more earnest than the last. She stared at him, simultaneously flattered, flustered, and flabbergasted. Unlike other men, he didn't appeal to her by waxing poetic about her beauty nor did he list all the benefits she would have by becoming his wife. Galt spoke about granting her wishes, of how she could teach him, of enjoying one another's company, of doing things together. She knew he was sincere. The former thief saw the value in her as a person, as an equal, a partner, whose presence alone was worth sacrifice.

As he fell to a knee she let out a small gasp, even more shocked by the gesture. Servants working in proximity to the stables swung their gazes towards the pair. She was numb. Silke had promised herself she would never marry and had taken pains to keep her distance from any member of the opposite sex that might pose a threat to her plans. When that tactic failed, she became an expert at giving a firm, gentle (when deserved) rejection, each one easier than the last, partially due to the fact they made the same mistakes. Galt was an exception. Not only had she allowed him closer than any man before him, she had allowed herself to be charmed, and she couldn't quite find the strength to turn him away.

Tears formed in the edges of her eyes. He gave her hope. The heartfelt declaration made her want to believe in him- that her future could be filled with happiness, laughter, honesty, and respect, that she wouldn't have to abandon her family. Galt had seen her for who she was and accepted it without restraint. Intuitively she knew he was the sort of person that would never discourage her from writing ambitious business contracts, practicing her archery, or challenging whatever societal norms bothered her that day. Guilt swept over her because, as desperate as she was to agree, to engage herself to this handsome, dashing, witty, heroic, charismatic man, the memory of her parents dragged her back down to reality.

"I couldn't do that to you," she said quietly in a sad, stricken voice, that was raw with feeling. "My mother was... she was an amazing women and the love of my father's life. Most aristocratic marriages are arranged and political, but they adored each other every moment of every day, and he would have pulled down the moon from the sky for her if she asked. When she died, my father..." she took a deep breath, trying to choke down some of her emotion. "My father fell apart. He's never truly recovered. I couldn't do that to you." Silke kept to herself her superstitions about how she would be the next to die in her family. He wouldn't understand it, not yet, and even if he did- it was who would be left behind that tortured her, that gave her nightmares, and haunted her during the day.

Well, that wasn't quite what he had in mind, but immediately he latched on to the fact it wasn't a no, even if it wasn't the resounding yes he had hoped for. He had expected such a reply in the fantasies he had granted himself, but he couldn't quite recall the smooth reply he always had. Plus, this time, he had foolishly not thought ahead about it. He knew it was her anxieties that halted her from something that could make the both of them happy. There was no logic that would dissuade him. He knew that instinctively.

"So..." He said, getting to his feet. He still had her hands in his his, and his dark eyes were level with hers. "You believe it would be better for me if I were to live all of my life in unhappiness rather than to live some of it like that..."

He had a small smile on his face, though not because he was not sympathetic to her reservations. He knew them almost as well as one of her own family, he felt. It was simply a part of her charm, to him. She was collected, intelligent, always planned everything. He was no stranger to plots, but he was more prone to 'winging it' as the commoners said. "You may not wish to harm me, but there is no greater harm than seeing you not be happy. Than seeing you marry someone else, someone you are forced to." His next words were breathy and earnest. "There is no greater harm than being apart from you."

Galt's family had thought he should have married years ago, though for entirely different reasons than people might wish that upon Silke. They thought a woman might make him honest. He had always laughed at the ridiculousness of that forlorn hope, and yet ironically, one had. The one he was asking to marry him right here and now.

"You know in your heart you want to." Galt whispered, and he shook his head. "It won't solve everything. It won't solve the problems of the kingdom or make life perfect. But together there's nothing we can't work towards, and there's nowhere I would rather be than by you. Please, for once in the months I've known you, do me the favor of answering how you would desire it. I know you're frightened. I am too but..." He squeezed her hands. "Do you trust me?"

Her father, Count Kasper, was a romantic at heart. The sincerity and ferocity of his love for his wife, even after her death, and the intense adoration she held for him before she passed, may someday be a legend. Though they had no great heroic accomplishments, no high achievements, the quiet affection they had for one another never faded over time, and radiated around them when they were in court. They had ruined their children. Vincent would settle for nothing less than that same sort of match. He was unsatisfied with the traditional political arranged marriage of nobility. Silke, on the other hand, was terrified of how love was all-consuming. Arrogantly she assumed she could avoid it altogether, despite being warned it wasn't that easy.

According to Count Johann Kasper and the late Countess Violet Kasper, soul mates did exist, and they were as undeniable as the need to draw breath.

Since meeting Galt, she had honestly believed he would meet someone else. She had seen it happen dozens of times. A man would meet her, be intrigued for one reason or another, realize she was disinterested in matrimony, and find someone more suitable for him- or at least much more willing. There was no shortage of beautiful, demure, available ladies that would have been thrilled to have someone as dashing as Galt make an overture. If they were more practical, they'd be excited at the possibility of wedding someone who had the king's eye and favor, who ascended to the aristocracy of their own merit, and had a bright future ahead of them. There were boons to joining hands with him beyond the status of 'count.' Silke was certain she wasn't the only one that saw the potential for him to climb higher and exert more influence than another man of his station.

Regardless of what she convinced herself would happen, he was undeterred, and not the least bit dissuaded that she could leave him a widower some day. Silke didn't know if he really seriously contemplated her mortality in that moment, but he managed to counter her expertly with perhaps the only argument she'd find persuasive: his unhappiness. If she were to reject him, he'd be miserable. Galt had no intentions of looking anywhere else for a bride. Had it been anyone except him making the assertion, she would have thought it a bluff, yet the former thief was candid when it came to his feeling with her.

Her convictions wavered. The goal had always been to leave this world harming as few people as possible. If Galt would be harmed by her refusing his proposal, that would harm him. If he would mourn her, and be just as despondent as a bachelor, that was not shielding him from harm either. If he would be forlorn and bitter watching her marry someone else out of obligation, and against her will, that would harm him. There was no outcome in which he wouldn't be harmed by her actions. In these unexpected circumstances, where she could not avoid harm, the path that caused the least was to accept.

"I trust you," she finally said softly. "It's fate that I don't trust." Anything could go wrong. No matter what feelings they held for each other, tragedy was merciless. She could become widow, burying another family member, another loved one, or become bedridden, a burden upon him. The unknown terrified her, paralyzed her, and kept her firmly rooted at a distance from everyone else. It wasn't a change that her mother or Alistair would have ever wanted her to undergo because of their passing. Silke sensed her extreme stance on romance was not honoring their memories. The living and the dead were all harmed, it seemed... including herself, though she would continue to deny it.

"We can start with an engagement. You might change your mind." It was far as she could go for now, and a large step from her formed absolute determination to remain eternally single. "There will need to be a ring before anything can be official," she added, clearing her throat, a light blush touching her cheeks. "I'm not particular. Anything will do. If you can't decide on colors or stones, I like purples the best as they remind me of my mother."

He did not know what to say.

Well, of course he was elated. He knew in his heart she was making the right decision and he felt she knew it too, despite her fears or misgivings. But contrary to what he would have seen her act when she accepted, she was almost mechanical in her acceptance. It was underwhelming, even if it did not deter him. Galt wasn't disappointed, however. He merely felt sympathy for her. What could have her feel thus, after he knew she was as fond of him as he was with her? It worried him, really, for her sake.

And yet her acceptance made his smile bloom, even as she said it breathlessly and with only slight animation. He supposed she needed time, and at the moment, he felt anything in the world was possible. Her blush was all the encouragement he needed, though he made sure not to bounce for joy. He gave her a nod, smiling. "Purple it is. I'll see to it."

With that, he gave a half turn and offered her his hand. "We do have a ride to go on. Shall I help you on your horse, my lady?" He inquired. With or without her acceptance of the help, he would have a slightly rougher time getting on his own steed. She was a much better rider than he, truth be told. If it wasn't for his acrobatic skill set, he would make a complete fool of himself, but he could vault over pretty much anything, including a horse's back. Once mounted, he awaited her signal.

"This is your estate, I'll follow your lead. Though don't go too fast," He laughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. He would refrain from speaking of the engagement for as long as he felt it necessary. He didn't wish to overwhelm her, or make her feel trodden by the decision anymore than she might feel now.

Silke had gotten so accustomed to teaching or telling Galt how to navigate this new aristocratic world, his easy agreement to find something purple for an engagement ring brought the abrupt realization, or rather a reminder, that he didn't need her for everything. There were other people he could solicit for advice. Certainly Duke Valdemar (and his wife) would be more than happy to give recommendations and advice for the purchase of jewelry. Mentally she had shouldered all responsibility for his acclimation to being a count herself. In reality, he was a capable, competent man, and she was merely meant to help him with some things, rather than manage everything for him as she did with her brother and father to some degree.

While she could have easily swung up into her saddle herself, she didn't want to turn aside his kind gesture, so she took his hand. After she was seated she turned to watch him. His horseback riding experience- or lack thereof- was already known to her, so she had made sure he was given one of their more mild-tempered horses, one that was neither stubbornly lazy nor insistently high-spirited. By the same token, her own was one that would match his steed's gate. It felt a little cruel to assign herself their fastest stallion while he rode a gelding or mare with a loping, more lazy stride.

"Well, it's my father's estate," she said, not by means of correcting him, but diverting the topic slightly from the subject of their nuptials. Her gaze slid over the distance landscape with a mixture of pride and melancholy. No matter what she did, and no matter how dearly she adored the Kasper holdings, they would be passed to heir brother as the elder sibling and the only living son. "Surprisingly, Vincent does a respectable job in managing the grounds for the most part, though he hasn't the slightest idea how to prepare for any event or holiday. A year or two ago he wanted to host his own hunt," she said, nodding towards the forest treeline that stretched in the acres beyond the pasture. "Most of the men were also bringing their wives, who'd stay behind at the house and have a small soiree, and he was shocked we'd need to arrange to bring out more tables and linens, or move some art pieces, perhaps make some flower arrangements."

There were many intricacies of aristocratic socializing that totally escaped her brother. As deft as he was with a sword, as comfortable as he was with physical endeavors, and as well-educated he was on a variety of topics, hosting a party was an insurmountable enigma. If she ever left or passed, she'd have to make sure he either had a wife or servants that could fill the massive gaps in his abilities.

"We've a lake, quite a bit of forest, a cabin farther out," she gestured, "and quite a few lovely meadows. Any preference? I make no promises not to go fast," she said, her eyes twinkling. "You'll need to know how to at least canter without falling off in case your horse bolts during the hunt." Most women rode side-saddle but, as he had witnessed, she rode astride. It was one of her many breaches of etiquette that the court had learned to tolerate as a mild eccentricity. Not only did she have excellent horsemanship, she had expertly smoothed over most of the rankled older gentleman by subtle manipulations, be it flattery, helping them find a worker they were seeking, giving a bit of financial advice, mediating disputes with their wives, or introducing them to someone within her formidable network.

Galt felt his heart racing, and the horse ride wasn't helping calm it down. The past hour had been taxing on him, and even though he wouldn't trade it for the world, he was on edge. The landscape passing by him with a picturesque quality a poor man might think only existed in fairy tales was adding to the sense of this being a dream. Luckily Silke's voice kept him grounded, and after a few miles on the estate, he found himself calming.

He took a few deep breathes, and the two stopped before a copse of trees. When Silke presented him with the options. They all sounded lovely, and he weighed the options. The cabin would be interesting, but it seemed a bit too romantic after recent events. The forest was nice, but he bet they would traverse through much of it going anywhere. He supposed that just left the lake.

"The lake sounds good to me, what do you think?" He asked. He grinned at her teasing.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. Though I thought I had procured all the lessons I would have for today..." He asked facetiously. He almost wanted to add that she would have plenty of time to teach him riding once they were married, but he felt that would be a bit too on the nose. It was strange, but he felt this trepidation of hers almost a weakness, and from the woman he felt was impenetrable. He wouldn't dwell on it. "Just make sure to come back for me if I get lost. I'm hopeless, I swear."

He kicked his horse into a light canter, having the beast trot around her own steed to showcase he was ready. If he could survive lessons with her brother, he could stomach a few miles ride to see a pristine lake with the lady of the house.

There was little guiding that was actually required of Galt; his horse clearly knew to follow hers as they raced across the fields and cantered through the forest. For the most part the woods had been left wild and untouched, which was a bit unusual. Paper products were becoming increasingly popular and sought after, especially books, and less wealthy nobles resorted to hiring laborers to fell their trees in order to sell the lumber. It was a testament to Silke's success that, despite the brief mismanagement of the estate's finances under her father, they flourished now to the extent all their acreage was ruggedly unblemished. The only sign of human interference in the nature around them were the paths that carefully wound around towering oaks.

Intermittently she checked behind her to make certain that he hadn't been jostled from his saddle. She knew the area well enough she slowed (and his horse slowed as well) when they were approaching a spot where they would need to ride through a small jump or quick turn. A couple times she purposefully brought them to a walk, both to rest their steeds, and to show him points of interest: a conifer that had been split by lightning and had managed to heal and a pack of deer so used to seeing her that they didn't flee unless so long as they kept a minimal distance. Silke could also name and identify half a dozen helpful plants that grew under the shade of the canopy as well. Her mother had never expected her to be academically brilliant, but she had taught all her children the importance of knowing what lived on their lands, from the most innocuous fungus to the most cunning predators.

It took a little more than half an hour, even with their quick pace, to reach the lake. It was a natural lake, rather than a man-made one, and had an irregular shape, larger on they side on which they had approached than the other. The edges of it were rocky, littered with pebbles that had become smooth over the years. A few boats that could hold two people at most, along with their oars, were neatly tucked away under a wooden protective structure to their right. On pleasantly lazy afternoons the Kaspers and their guests would row out on the calm waters and take in the sights. Of course, that was before Violet and Alistair had died, back when they entertained and hosted social events.

They were drinking in the sight when it began to drizzle. Silke glanced up at the sky. The clouds were a light gray, not a darker hue that would indicate a thunderstorm was imminent, but it was not the best weather regardless. There was absolutely no way they wouldn't get drenched; it was a matter of how long they wanted to tolerate riding in the rain. She bit her lip as she contemplated her choices aloud. "We could go to the cabin for rain cloaks, but by the time we reach there it won't really be much help. There's some natural shelters as well, though not big enough for the horses, so all our tack will be soaked, and we don't know how long this will last. I suppose we'll head back to the house?"

A little rain wouldn't do them much harm. Ladies of the court swooned, feigning illness the moment a drop touched them, swearing it made them sick with the most vicious cold. The truth of the matter was they were often milking any attention they could get as delicate flowers. It was getting cool, however, and Silke wasn't in the best of health, so that did pose a slight risk to already compromised immune system. She blinked as runnels started to trail down over her long lashes and cheeks. The greatest threat was that her clothes (and possibly his) wouldn't be quite so modest once they were plastered to them.

"What do you think? Ride back the way we came? You'll have to hold on tighter with your legs," she warned anxiously. "These saddles aren't meant for the rain, so you'll slip in it a bit more than you did on the way here. Perhaps we should take it slower," she mused, worried about his ability to endure a fast ride to their residence. In fact, she was more concerned with him on a whole than she was with herself, and would defer to his decision, so long as it was reasonably sensible.

Galt found he quite enjoyed the ride along the estate. Despite the occasional jumping of his steed, he felt confident in the saddle. Perhaps he really was getting used to being a rider. Before his heroic escapades in saving the duke, he could count the amount of times he had mounted a horse on one hand. Silke was a good teacher, slowing when he needed and speeding up to challenge him. Galt was nimble enough to be a fine rider, but it was hard trusting someone not himself. Somehow with Silke it came naturally, but with a beast it wasn't a sure thing to his eyes.

They really had grown up in different worlds. He felt the scenery was beautiful and undeniably alluring to something primal, something deep within him. And yet, every copse of trees or every tangle of bushes did not seem something to marvel at, but a potential hiding spot for either him or some unseen assassin. He knew it was a useless worry in such a well-manicured landscape, but old habits died hard. In fact, he believed the last time he was on a horse in the woods, it had been when he was fleeing for his life. He had an intrusive thought that, if he had never saved the Duke, he could be out in any of these bushes right now, and if Silke spotted him she would cry out and call for the rangers. He did not know why exactly he would be in this estate, but it crept into his thoughts periodically as he rode.

He felt more serenity when they came upon the lake, as if breaking the spell cast upon him by his more cautious self. He felt his horse snicker, the steed shaking its head gently. He wondered if the beast was thirsty, but he wasn't confident enough to guide it to the water.

"The rain?" He asked, turning his gaze upwards. The picturesque sky was certainly downcast. Perhaps it would rain. The ex-thief was surprised she was asking him, and he could tell she was doing so for his true opinion rather than simply being polite. He trusted her judgement in this more, but he would provide his thoughts if she wanted. "Hmmmm, I guess we can..." He trailed off, wondering if it was a real consideration. After a moment, he continued. "Maybe we can go to the cabins and wait out the rain? It would give me a chance to see it and it would grant us and the horses shelter. If it lasts too long, we can always just ride back in the downpour and I can take the blame."

He gave the last sentiment with a grin, and he hoped it did sound as logical to her as it did to he. Briefly he saw an almost romantic scene of the two of them, alone in the cabin and watching the gentle rain patter across the leaves. He doubted that would turn into anything beyond a simple monotonous wait, but it was still just compelling enough to entice him into being confident of his opinion. Of course, if she said it was perhaps not the best idea, he would listen and go with her lead regardless.

Since Silke hadn't given anyone a time frame of when to expect their return- except she'd likely be back for dinner- it wasn't necessarily a detour that would cause them any trouble. They had some time before the last meal of the day would be served. Even if they happened to be late, her family and the estate staff all knew her to be an accomplished rider who knew the area like the back of her hand. More than once members of the Kasper lineage (including Vincent recently) had been caught in foul weather when they went for a ride, ranging from blizzards to violent thunderstorms to obscuring fog to hail. Maps of their lands could be found in nearly every room in their house detailing different types shelters that were available in such an event. The cabin was best, of course, but several caves were quite serviceable as well.

"Take the blame?" she repeated, amused. "You might want to reconsider. You'll need all the good will you can muster for my brother." Vincent wasn't an unreasonable man; however, the death of their mother and Alistair left Silke as the sole focus of his overprotective drive. Neither of them discussed the losses openly, but she was very aware that they had left a scar on her remaining sibling, and he was terrified to see another member of their family injured or worse. As a result, he would be very critical and suspicious of Galt, just as he would any man trying to stay by his sister's side.

With a flick of the reins she spurred her horse in the direction of the cabin. Their horses had only begun to hit their stride when the rain increased from a drizzle to a steady, heavy rain. As they veered into the forest they were sheltered from the rain, though plenty still made it through the canopy of the leaves and in areas where it was thinner, either because the trees did not create overhangs or they were not packed as closely together. It took somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes to make it to their destination, a home constructed in a clearing.

The word 'cabin' suggested a small dwelling, perhaps with a single room interior. The building that greeted Galt was easily larger than some villager's homes, with a stable behind it that could accommodate up to four horses. At least 1,000 square feet in size, it functioned more as a hideaway for guests, or a vacation spot when the stresses of the estate became too great. It was close enough that supplies could be ferried two and from the primary residence with little fuss, yet far away there was a sense of privacy. When they used to host large balls, banquets, and parties, bachelors would argue over who would get the opportunity to stay at the 'cabin' overnight.

Silke was soaked as she dismounted, led her horse to the stable, and untacked him. She helped Galt do the same for his. Wordlessly she led him inside and instantly wandered to the hearth to start a fire. The cabin was cozy and modestly decorated with a more rugged, 'masculine' touch, most of the furnishings constructed of wood, and the linens of dark earth tones. They had entered into a front from that was a living area with a small kitchenette, dining table to one side. Beyond the room they were in was a hall leading to two bedrooms, a storage room, and a combined indoor privy and bath, which was a must for visiting aristocracy. Nobility had a very different concept of 'roughing it' than the peasantry did and would not wash in a river nor use an outhouse.

"My father keeps spare men's clothes in the closets," she said, motioning towards the hall off of which were the two bedrooms. "You can take your pick of whatever you find in your size." There wasn't any women's clothing, so she mentally debated whether she'd try to dry off completely beside the fire, wrap herself up in blankets to warm herself (and provide some modesty, since her garments were plastered to her), or wear some of the men's clothing. The former two options were more proper, while the third was more sensible.

Frowning to herself, Silke wondered why it was always proper or sensible, rather than both.

Galt's dark hair dripped onto the wooden tiles, though he ran his hands through his thick head of hair to help shake the water loose. For a single moment he was going to fret over his clothes, before he realized just how different of a worry that was from anything else in his life. The clothes were expensive, but remembered he could afford it. Galt had to tell himself he was simply glad to be in out of the rain and that his suggestion had some merit with Silke. She was right though, if their marriage proposal was going to work, he needed to be as careful as he could with her family, as well as anyone watching.

"Alright, I'll be right back," He informed her, making his way into the hall and beginning his task of fishing through the closets for something to wear. He wasn't going to fuss over it, wanting something simple and comfortable. Eventually he found a linen shirt and a handsome pair of dark breeches, along with a large roll of a blanket for Silke. He was a tad cold from the wet, but once he stripped the tunic and undershirt off, he felt better. Tossing them on the bed, he placed the stack of clothes he had gathered beside them and turned to look into the mirror.

He had the same lean, fit look to him. Old scars from past troubles ran along the ripples of his physique, glad to see his comfortable living hadn't really added on the pounds yet. He needed to be careful about that, if he wanted to keep the same look (and skills). He wasn't so sold on this life that he felt his old knowledge and abilities were now meaningless. He turned away and put on the simple outfit, glad for the soft, dry touch of the attire. Galt picked up the blanket and stepped back into the living room just as the fire began.

"That feels good," He said happily, and when he saw Silke he gave her a smile and held out the blanket, gesturing at it with his head. "I figured you could use it. It's pretty big, but it's soft. I guess it's one of the covers they use if the bedspreads are in need of washing."

Once Silk had done what she had to do herself, he set himself down before the fire, finding some cushions to use as a base for their lightly sore bottoms from riding. Or, perhaps it was only his rump that was sore, since he still needed some more experience on that aspect of high life. If she joined him, he would drape the covers over her however she would wish, and save a small bit for himself to appreciate the softness of it.

"Did you use to come here as a kid?" He asked, wanting to break the silence. Somehow, he felt slightly awkward. He still felt he could be himself around her, but being alone in a cabin with her, he was slightly nervous. Was it because of the proposal? Or just because of the locale? The romantic fire was not helping, which was an oddity since with any other woman he would find it a great benefit. The rain outside still hammered down on the house, but the sound was a welcome, rhythmic noise that quickly faded into the background.

With the fire started, Silke rolled back on her heels and stared at the flickering flames. The Kaspers had several servants whose duties were exclusively tending the estate lands. For some of them they had mundane tasks that were typical of a nobleman's home: cultivating a flower garden, maintaining a vegetable patch for fresh produce, trimming overgrown hedges, and the like. Others had more uncommon responsibilities that included pruning and re-clearing the paths through the forest, tracking the predator population of the woods, gathering medicinal herbs that grew in the thickets, or cleaning and provisioning the cabin. Firewood was regularly chopped to fuel the cabin's hearth, neatly stacked both beside it and in a storage closet towards the rear of the tiny house.

Shivering as a chill passed through her, she pulled the ribbons and pins out of her hair, and shook the long lockets free. While she wasn't quite certain what (if anything) she wanted to do about her clothes, she could at least do something about her hair, which was so long and thick it seemed to have absorbed a gallon of rain from their short jaunt to the cabin. Standing and walking to the kitchen, she leaned over the sink as she squeezed and wrung the water out of her hair until it was merely damp as opposing to sopping wet. Satisfied at the difference it made, she made her way back to the hearth and sat as close was as safe, enjoying the warmth that was beginning to spread from the fire.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized how unlikely it was that she'd find any fresh, dry clothing in the cabin suitable for her to change into. She wasn't opposed to wearing men's attire. Despite how carefully she curated her image for the courts, she didn't particularly care about looking pretty. With Galt she felt more invested in looking beautiful to him, though she wouldn't admit as much to herself, but she doubted that he'd suddenly reject her if he caught her wearing breeches. The real issue was the dimensions. All the garments in the closets were tailored to be roughly similar to the size of her male relatives, and thus none of the pants would accommodate the curvature of her hips.

"I'm glad you were able to find something," she said with the tiniest hint of envy. In the future she'd have to pay one of the groundskeepers to hide a spare set of clothing for her in one of the many nooks of the cabin. "We keep a lot of extra blankets here," she admitted as he moved to join her beside the fireplace. "In the winters it can be bitterly cold, even with all the hearths lit, and our most elderly guests will complain if they don't have twice as many covers during the night." There were some younger, healthier critics as well that she was convinced simply wanted extra linens to have more than their companions, as if it was a way to passive-aggressively assert themselves.

"Thank you," she said with sincere, earnest gratitude as he draped the blanket over her. Silke wrapped it more snugly around her right shoulder, leaving space on her left if he wanted to join her beneath its soft, fluffy comfort. She didn't need the cushion he set on the floor, as she was an accomplished rider with great endurance for the saddle, but she remained silent; if she pointed out she wasn't sore at all, it might injure his pride. Closing her eyes, a contented sigh escaped her lips. Though she was a touch cold, she was suddenly tired from her long day, and the cozy spot before the heart made a nap incredibly tempting.

His question distracted her, and she blinked her eyes back open, stealing a glance at him. It was easy to forget how much of her life he knew nothing about. Of course, she was similarly ignorant of his life experiences, as they had all but lived in entirely different worlds before he was granted the title of count for saving a duke's life so valiantly. "I came here with my brother Alistair," Silke stated in a gentle tone, cognizant of the fact he didn't know about her deceased sibling. "There were three of us. Vincent is the eldest, Alistair was the second son, and I was the youngest. Even when we were young, Vincent was always paranoid about letting me do things with them, that I'd get hurt because I'm a girl," she recalled with a fond smile. "Alistair would bring me along anyway, or we'd go on adventures on our own. We'd play here often since it didn't get much use and it took more time for the adults to find us to stop our mischief."

"Do you have any siblings? Or did you grow up with anyone close to you like a sibling?" she inquired.