|
“You’ll soon see, my Lord, that Counselor Egremon has been calling all the shots at Gilmorand for nearly a century now,” mentioned the thief as the trio neared
the portcullis. “I feel I must warn you how I know these things, for I will not be welcomed into the castle with open arms. My name is Erik Johansson, once a
Counselor here myself. However, I took offense at the way Egremon was manipulating our Lord, and he saw fit to have me cast out, supposedly for stealing money
from the coffers that he himself had absconded with. Your earldom would be much richer and much more prosperous if not for him.”
“You may tell me all these things after we get inside,” Lucius told the man. “I believe if I’m not mistaken, the birds have been set to eavesdrop out here. If
it has not been discovered, there was once a small antechamber I played in as a young boy which was said to be completely secret. I do remember Egremon,
however. He must be quite old by now.”
“Nearly a hundred and twenty,” Erik agreed. “But still sharp as a whip for all that.”
They had reached the gate, and one of the guards stepped forward menacingly. “Who goes there?” he growled.
“It is I, Lucius Malfoy,” said the man himself in his most regal manner. “I believe they are expecting me.”
“Have you any proof of your claim, sir?” asked the guard uneasily. “We are supposed to make absolutely certain who we are letting in. No exceptions.”
“I would not have it any other way,” said Lucius amiably as he deftly held his hand in the air. A document appeared which he handed to the guard. After a brief
perusal, the guard returned it to Lucius and waved for them all to step inside. Lucius held up the unfurled document again, and it rolled itself up and
disappeared again.
“That’s a nifty trick,” Hermione commented as he offered her his arm again.
“Yes,” he agreed with a slightly suggestive smile. “I’m full of nifty tricks, my dear. Eventually you’re bound to discover quite a few of them.”
“I can hardly stand the anticipation, sir,” she answered with a devilish smirk.
“Here now, you two need to keep your wits about you in here,” Erik informed them. “Eyes behind every wall, plots within plots. You would swear you had just
entered a king’s castle rather than just that of a Count. Just be glad the guard back there did not know who I am, or we would not have gotten this far
unaccosted.”
“Ah, but that is no longer the case, Erik Johansson,” said a shrewd voice. When Lucius and Hermione saw the man attached to it they assumed he could be none
other than the high and mighty Counselor Egremon himself. “I don’t know why the guards let you in, but—“
“They let me in, old termagant,” said Lucius as he looked over the man, trying to reconcile all the changes nearly forty years had wrought. “It is I, Lucius
Malfoy. Goodness how time does fly. When last I saw you, I was a mere boy and you were not nearly so white on top.”
“As insolent as ever, I see,” the man grumbled. Begrudgingly, he stepped forward and grasped the man by his shoulder. “And who is the woman, might I ask? I
dearly hope you were not foolish enough to bring along the new bride. The Counselors will not like that one bit.”
“I am unconcerned with the wishes of my Counselors, Egremon,” Lucius told him in a firm tone. “I will have the names of any man who would oppose my Countess,
so I may dismiss them immediately. That should save plenty of time and effort, don’t you think?”
“But, my Lord, you cannot simply dismiss the council,” said the man in incredulous tones. “It could be the most disastrous thing you ever do.”
“Oh, I do not intend to disband the council, of course,” Lucius corrected him. “I simply wish to fill it with honest men who actually care about the
well-being of all citizens of Gilmorand, including the less than sterling witches and wizards among them.”
“Forgive me for so bold a question, my Lord,” said Egremon as he bowed slightly, an awkward movement since they were all still walking briskly toward the
main entrance. “Weren’t you a Death Eater?”
“Yes, I was,” he answered with a raised brow. “Back before I understood what was truly important. There will be no use of the word ‘Mudblood’ under my rule, nor
will the attitude that accompanies it be tolerated. This is my wife Hermione, sir, a Muggle-born witch with a power greater even than either of ours. You will
respect her as the Countess she is, and she must never hear one word against her people, or the perpetrator will answer to me.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Egremon answered, though it was clear from the expression on his face that he was unsuccessfully trying to hide his disgust, and he did not
bow to the woman his lord had indicated. “Greetings, Countess, I hope you will like it here.”
“Oh, I’m certain that I will,” Hermione answered, her tone challenging. Their eyes met and held, and then the man started with surprise as he realized the young
upstart was reading his thoughts like an open book. She smirked at his acknowledgement, and turned away again as if he was no longer of any consequence
whatsoever.
“Let me show you all to your quarters,” Egremon offered. “Usually the servants would do it, of course, but with so many extra people of importance here, we seem
to be in short supply. And of course, it is an honor for me to escort the most important person here in their stead. This way.”
Hermione looked around as they walked along, admiring all the old statuary and tapestries the surrounded them. Unlike a Muggle castle, where the décor could
not move, these pieces of art each teamed with life and thus one might find a horse statue in one place, and return an hour later to find it had wandered
off somewhere else completely. Hermione was still not used to such things, as she’d only been in the Wizarding world since just before her twelfth birthday,
but at least it made for interesting entertainment, she supposed.
“The suites of the Count and Countess are vast, but also adjoining,” Egremon explained. “Your rooms are to the left, my Lady, while the Count’s are to the
right. As his manservant, Erik, you will of course be housed in one of his many servant’s rooms, further up the hall. I will bid good day to the noble couple
here, and take you there now.”
“Stop,” Lucius commanded. “I’ll have your word you will not harm Erik in any way, Counselor. I understand that the two of you do not get along, and I would not
like it if you acted out in an irrational manner where he is concerned.”
“Of course you have it, my Lord,” Egremon agreed, gritting his teeth the whole time. “Please do come down to dinner once you are settled in, my Lord. The
people will want to greet you properly.”
Lucius nodded his agreement, and brought Hermione with him into his chambers rather than letting her go into her own. “Thought we could use a nap, my dear,” he
told her with a grin. “Somehow I get the feeling dinner is going to be a very exhausting affair.”
Hermione chuckled as he closed the door and pulled her into his arms.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I was just thinking I have a feeling this nap will be even more exhausting than the dinner.”
“Mmm,” he said, nuzzling her hair. “I believe you may be right. Now, where the devil did they hide the bedroom in the middle of all these damned doors? Accio
bedroom.” The two saw a bright blue flash of light appear on one of the doorknobs, and headed that way. “Ah, there it is. And just look at the size of the
bed! It’ll take an hour just to find the middle of it.”
“Well, husband, if we are going to initiate the thing properly, it may take even longer than that,” Hermione said. With a huge grin on his face, Lucius picked
his wife up and tossed her onto the thing, then dove in after her. Hermione had grabbed up a pillow, and she hit him with it now, giggling profusely.
“Woman, when are you ever going to learn?” he teased her as he grabbed a pillow of his own. “I am the pillow-king. Prepare to bow down and kiss my feet.”
“Prove it,” she challenged, and he did.
| 
