Oswald snorted—sounding even more like a wolverine—and thumped across the cottage.
“Uncouth mutt,” one of the other warriors muttered.
Oswald spun around. “What did you say, wimpy?”
A warrior with dark hair—possibly black—and a slight build and pale complexion that gave him a more fragile appearance placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Say that again,” he said in a low, emotionless voice.
Oswald planted his hands on his hips. “Wimpy—ouch!” He crashed to the ground when the other man threw his sword scabbard, smacking Oswald in the head.
“That would be Rupert—he’s Lord Hugel’s nephew and heir,” Marzell said.
Angelique made a noise of appreciation as she studied Oswald’s head, noting the already-forming welt. Rupert might look fragile, but apparently he could give as good as the others.
“Surely you must know me!” Crowed the warrior that resembled a storybook prince.
Unexpectedly, one of the warriors popped out by Blondie’s feet, toting a hand harp. “Everyone knows My Lord!” He strummed a chord on the harp to accent his words.
The duo looked expectedly at Snow White, who instantly clammed up.
Her cheeks blazed red enough to light the room. “I apologize,” she said in a voice that was just barely louder than a whisper.
“What was that?” Blondie said.
“I a-apologize,” Snow White faltered. “I don’t…”
Blondie’s sidekick—who was still strumming his harp—plucked a string so hard it broke. “You don’t know My Lord?”
“Impossible!” Blondie declared with absolute confidence.
“This is Lord Aldelbert and his attendant, Wendal,” Marzell explained as the harp player—Wendal—sped past him. “Aldelbert is Lord Chita’s only son.”
Wendal selected a rolled-up canvas from one of the overflowing barrels and stalked up to Snow White. “Here.” He offered her the canvas. “I’m certain you only need to view My Lord in his finery, and you will recall seeing him in the halls of Glitzern Palace, Princess.”
Snow White—as sweet as a bunny—smiled with obvious nervousness and unrolled the canvas, revealing a painting of Aldelbert dressed in a silken tunic, holding a golden cup and a bunch of grapes while smiling roguishly.
Angelique leaned in so she could peer over Snow White’s shoulder at the portrait in fascination. Incredible—I never knew people with such unshakable self-confidence existed! I don’t think I could hold that pose for more than five seconds before I’d want to throw that awful cup. It looks like a picture painted for a marriage interview.
“Is he trying to marry a rich old lady?” Angelique asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Wendal sputtered.
Angelique tapped the painting. “Because this seems like the kind of thing you would give a rich old lady.”
Angelique half-thought Aldelbert would be offended, but instead he laughed with genuine joy. “Hah-ha! I like your fire, poorly dressed woman! Wendal, select a portrait for her as well, to reward her!”
Wendal scowled but stomped his way over to the barrel. “She doesn’t deserve it, My Lord.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Angelique said. “I don’t really want a ‘reward’ like that either.”
Apparently Aldelbert’s word was all that mattered, because Wendal ignored her and selected another canvas.
He cradled it in his arms as he reluctantly crossed the room and was nearly run over by another one of the Seven Warriors: a young man built like an ox (with the broadest set of shoulders Angelique had ever seen) and brilliant red hair.
He yawned widely as he slogged his way into the cottage—not reacting when Wendal squawked at him—and sat down with a thump on one of the table benches.
He wobbled from side to side for a moment, then fell forward, his face hitting the table with a painful thud.
Angelique raised an eyebrow as she glanced from the fallen giant to the unconcerned warriors. “Is he alright?”
“Yes, he’s fine,” said Marzell—who was apparently the official greeter…or maybe the only warrior with a deeply-held attachment to unnecessary social niceties. “That’s Gregori. His family owns Waldberg Imports.”
Waldberg, Waldberg, how do I know that name? Angelique dimly recalled the company name, and if she remembered correctly, they were incredibly rich and one of the most important merchant families in Mullberg.
They’d owned some of the warehouses near the Chosen strongholds she’d broken into—which was somewhat of an inconvenience because they were meticulous in guarding their goods. She and Quinn had to actually be careful when breaking in so as to not draw their notice.
But to find a member of the Waldberg family here? Hmm. Mighty high society I’m keeping for a tiny cottage in the middle of the woods with (suspiciously) none of them being cursed.
The last companion—a silent young man who was the tallest out of the lot—forcibly shoved the door back in the cracked and damaged frame. “Needs repairs,” he said.
Marzell frowned at the misshapen door. “So it would seem. Ah—princess, allow me to introduce my final companion, Fritz.”
The silent warrior slipped his hood off and smiled slightly. Between the quiet way he moved and his ashy brown hair with his light hazel eyes, he would have seemed icy, but the smile softened him and showed the underlying gleam of kindness in his eyes.
“Fritz is actually a forester,” Marzell explained. “We wouldn’t be able to survive like this without him.”
Angelique speculatively looked Fritz over, and then translated for Snow White’s benefit. “That means he’s the only useful one out of the bunch. So you’ll want to make sure you convince him.” She swatted in Fritz’s direction with the rolled-up canvas painting of Aldelbert for emphasis.
He's probably the one that organized the pots and herbs. Something tells me the wolverine and his rival didn’t hang weeds from the rafters.
“I have many uses!” Aldelbert protested.
Angelique tapped the painting on her side—loving that she was wearing pants. “I am unconvinced.”
“Snow White,” Marzell began. “Can you tell us, now, why you are here?”
Snow White licked her lips. “Ah. Yes. There is something wrong with my stepmother.”
“Queen Faina?” Marzell asked.
Snow White nodded.
Oswald snorted. “Any one of us could have told you that! She’s ignoring the steady creep of monsters and fiends slowly invading Mullberg.” He squeezed one eye shut as he peered down the length of a dagger. Angelique’s magic was acutely aware of the small nick in one edge.
“It’s not just that…” Snow White trailed off when Oswald, Rupert, Marzell, and the quiet Fritz all stared at her.
“Yes?” Marzell kindly asked.
Rupert leaned against the questionably steady stair railing. “You’ve broken into our house, Your Highness. Now is hardly the time to be coy.”
Angelique made a show of stepping away and returning to digging through the warriors’ food stores—she was more than a little surprised that none of them objected.
I must give them some credit—they weren’t nearly as upset about finding two strangers in their house as I imagined. Given their appearance and conduct, Snow White should be able to win them to her cause.