~OLD MAN GERALT~

"YOUR GRACE! THE WHITE KEEP WELCOMES YOU!" Lord Geralt Cranmer said with a bow to the Prince.

The man moved to lift up and his back cracked. He tried to hide his wince but not before Hemlock caught it. The young man chuckled and Geralt glowered at him.

Hemlock fell silent but his lips still twitched in a repressed smile.

Esabel regarded the Old Lord with a frown.

She had never liked the House Cranmer. They were complacent and heady, with all the riches they had acquired from their trade of Sapphire-glass. But what made her dislike the man more was his poor treatment of her brother when he was under his care.

Lord Cranmer could easily afford basins of blood but he didn't. The frail Old man had let Marsil starve, leaving him cold and hungry in his cellar while he feasted the finest meat and drunk his fill with his family.

To think of what Marsil had gone through all those years made her want to grab Lord Geralt's srawny neck and wring him until his eyes popped.

Ferra didn't like the man either. She'd heard Marsil had been given to him as a child to train, but the man had gone and dumped him in some underground chamber.

Clearly, Lord Geralt Cranmer was a prejudiced asshole, just like the Blue Cloaks. They couldn't bear the thought of anyone or anything stronger than themselves. That's why the South hated the North.

...The Otherworlders were everything they were not; brave, beautiful, and magical.

Despite the fact that the arrogant Lord had maltreated Marsil most of his life, he still had the nerve to give a polite smile. Afterall, Marsil was now the Prince and thus, the heir to the White Throne. It was no hidden fact, that Lord Geralt was a royal ass-kisser.

'Slimy prick!" Esabel cursed inwardly.

Marsil only gave a small nod in reply to the man's greeting. Lord Geralt lifted his hands and his three wives moved to him, flanked by their daughters. Hemlock eagerly devoured the pretty women with sparkly brown eyes.

Ferra was shocked by Lord Geralt's family.

His wives looked like his daughters, and his daughters like his grandchildren. Obviously, the women had married him for his wealth and good name. House Cranmer was the next most revered name after the royal family.

To be allied with the House was to be allied with vast treasury, political power, land claims, and control of Syveria's mineral merchandise. Lord Geralt Cranmer was an Overlord in his own right.

...The man had bought vast fields in the West, so that he controlled most of the lands. To do so required great fortune.

Lord Geralt Cranmer went on to introduce his wives. Marsil and Esabel smiled when he introduced the beautiful brown-skinned Lady Rebelle.

The Princess respected the woman. She was one of the few Ladies the Princess had in high regard. The woman didn't dawdle and gossip.

Esabel also recognized the Lady as her mother's friend. She had spotted them on more than one occasion locked in deep conversation.

...If only the young Princess knew.

Marsil smiled at Rebelle for another reason entirely.

The Vampire Prince admired her. She was the first person to offer him a taste of human blood. She had fed him while he stood parched and chained to those hellish walls.

He also knew her secret; that she and the Queen were lovers. But he knew he would never give her away, not as long as he breathed. They'd also shared a sultry moment together a few moons before at the King's 'sex' banquet.

Lord Geralt introduced his daughters next.

"Your Grace," Lord Cranmer began, starting from the eldest to the youngest.

"...Kaneine. Janine. Fiona. And Aleah."

Hemlock's hazel eyes immediately pinned on the eldest, Kaneine. He could tell who her mother was just by looking at her.

They bore so much resemblance they almost looked like twins, which made Hemlock wonder when the women had birthed their daughters.

All the mothers looked younger than thirty and all the daughters looked not a single day over twenty. Lord Geralt on the other hand looked four decades older than all the women.

What the hell was this family? Hemlock mused.

The wives of Lord Geralt had to have married him at a very young age.

Kaneine was very pleasantly looking. Infact, all Geralt's daughters were—no thanks to the man. Obviously, the girls had all gotten their good looks from their mothers.

Hemlock kept his eyes on Kaneine as he raked her slow. The young woman had milk-white skin and a petite form. Then irises black as coals. A deep, dark gaze.

She looked like one of the girls who served the Temple Graces; the ones who covered themselves from head to toe in black garment. The celibate ones called the monials.

Kaneine looked innocent, which made Hemlock think of all the perverse ways he could loosen her up. The redhead was now more focused on Lord Geralt's daughter, Kaneine Cranmer than the mission at hand.

The rest of the women had eyes for the tall, masked Gladiator before them. They'd all been witnesses to his skilled prowess in the arena, and none of the women hesitated to run their eyes over his toned form.

Esabel frowned at this.

Inwardly, she was glad she came on the mission. Her brother needed someone to chase away the 'peckers', even if she did it for selfish reasons.

Once Lord Geralt finished introducing his family, he looked across the group.

...Marsil remained rigid as a pillar before him.

...Hemlock was ogling his daughter. He put it at the back of his mind to deal with the 'Ginger' later.

...The Princess was scowling at him. He was already used to scowls by now.

However, when his eyes fell on the quiet girl beside Marsil, his eyes lit.

"Hello, dear..." he purred with a smile that crinkled the already wrinkled corners of his eyes.

His eyes went over Ferra's figure and Esabel spotted Marsil clench his fist. Seeing her brother's ire, she moved close and gripped his hands. He seemed to calm at her warmth.

Somehow, she knew he was a moment close to sending the old man's head rolling in a bloody spray across the earth.

"...I've never seen you before. What's your name?"

Ferra shrank a little at the man's gaze. She hated men that stared at her like a 'fine piece of coin'. Right now, Lord Cranmer was staring at her like he wanted to make her his fourth wife.

She felt sickened.

She also felt the urge to reach out and smack his stupid ass face. But morbid as the old man was, he was still a Lord, so she gently fetched her manners and bowed in courtesy.

"Ferra, Sire," she replied, her manner speaking of an intrinsic feminine beauty.

Lord Geralt stretched out his hand to her. She gazed at it a while before collecting it. His fingers were pale with thin flesh, gnarly like the roots of a Cypress. She was even more shocked when the man began to lift her hand to his dry lips.

Had he no shame? Ferra frowned.

He was about to place a kiss on her hand when a deep sound echoed down from above. All eyes immediately turned to the rich profoundness of a voice. They all met with Marsil's towering frame.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the Prince growled at the man.

He had spoken from within the mask but his voice was no less deep. Lord Geralt's froze in his bent posture, his lips an inch away from Ferra's skin. He looked up to meet silver eyes full of wrath spearing him down.

He gave a weird shaky smile to Marsil who just stood unmoving, then gingerly lowered Ferra's hand without delivering the kiss. It was clear the Lord was nervous.

How could he not be?

The Vampire Prince was menacing enough, but when he became angry, he was plain terrifying. When Geralt had looked into his silver eyes, he had seen darkness with no equal.

"I presume my father informed you of our coming?" Marsil droned again, his voice still the rush of coals.

"Y—yes, Your Grace," Geralt stammered in reply.

"Very well, Lord Cranmer. Lead the way."

The man shivered a little at the dark hollows of Marsil's silver mask but quickly gave a bow and turned around. He moved forward to the doors of the Manor.

The houseguards and sevants flanked the entryway on both sides and they all bowed respectively from their places as Marsil walked past.

Lord Geralt Cranmer and the half dozen 'all-female' members of his family surrounding him were in the lead, and Hemlock took the time to admire Kaneine's figure from behind.

One thing was certain to the redhead as he walked into the grand foyer of the manor. Their stay in the White Keep was going to be full of surprises...

He for one couldn't wait to get alone with the Lord's eldest daughter.