It was midday when they arrived at the Soliel Estate. The guards were quick to step aside when they recognized the royal carriage and Eric and his father swept inside without giving anyone ti to alert the household.
The head maid paled when she saw them, bowing so deeply her nose was practically touching the floor. “Your Highness. Your Highness.”
“Where is my brother?” Jacques demanded.
“He and Lady Soliel just sat down to lunch, your grace.” She still hadn’t looked up.
“Bring him to .” Jacques stord down the hall to his brother’s office. “Just him.” He added over his shoulder as the maid scurried off.
Francis Soliel’s office was grander than the man himself. It had been his father’s before he’d beco King and Francis had been quick to claim it when Jacques showed little interest in remaining in the estate.
He always forced people to et with him in the office, including Jacques the few tis he’d visited his brother instead of his brother’s wife.
Jacques had put up with it before, when Erin Soliel was still alive and worried about her husband’s ego. He’d been desperate to make her happy, he cared less about making Francis happy, so by the ti his brother arrived, he was seated behind the ornate desk, in the chair his brother had reupholstered every year.
By law, it was all Jacques’ anyway. As the oldest son, never mind the King and the head of the family.
Francis Soliel lacked the presence that made his father and brother so intimidating. He was shorter, thinner, balder, but he believed he was taller, stronger, the best choice that got overlooked because of the ti of birth.
Failure to live up to his brother and father and their refusal to appointnt him to a more illustrious position in the governnt, out of fear of nepotism or just a lack of faith in his abilities, had led to resentnt strong enough to manifest in open criticism of the King.
And so strange conviction that he was free from repercussions.
Perhaps because he had been so far, but that was due to Jacques’ lack of interest in anything that had to do with his brother. Francis had managed to build a surprisingly strong, albeit small circle of supporters that had managed to place him higher in the governnt than either his father or his brother had wanted, but he’d plateaued during his marriage and been stuck as a Senior Council mber ever since.
He reminded Eric of a rat, but less useful to the environnt. Francis just seed to disagree with whatever Jacques decided and it was hard to figure out what he actually believed. He’d been well into his drinking period when Eirian was born and growing up and by the ti he’d sowhat pulled himself out of it, Eirian was old enough to recognize her father’s weaknesses.
And she’d never been very tolerant of weakness.
Francis was dressed up for lunch, Eric had never actually seen him dressed down in anyway, but there was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and he glanced at Eric nervously before bowing to his brother.
Eric ignored the look; he had no interest in helping his uncle and Francis was forced to turn to his brother.
His King.
“Welco, brother. I wasn’t expecting you.” He barreled ahead, attempting to head off whatever he feared was coming. “You should have sent word. I would have had space made for you at my table. Brigitta has been looking forward to eting you. We-”
“Where is Eirian?”
Francis shifted and pushed forward. “We are nearly ready to present our-”
“Where is my niece, Franics.”
Francis’ eyes again flew to Eric, who simply t his gaze and waited.
“Don’t think of an excuse. Just tell where she is.” Jacques snapped.
Francis flinched. “She is not here, brother.”
“Why not?” It was clear Jacques knew and was purposely forcing Francis to answer.
But there was no way for Francis to know how much Jacques knew. A smart man would assu he knew everything and co clean.
And Francis had always believed he was smarter than his brother. “She married. She lives with her husband now.” He straightens, a bit of confidence coming back because he is, at the end of the day, Eirian’s father and that gives him so say.
At least until his older brother opens his mouth.
“I don’t rember approving a marriage. You wouldn’t dare marry off my niece, Eric’s heir, without our approval. Would you, brother?” Jacques’ anger is barely contained. Sitting in the chair Francis claims at his own at the desk Francis claims even though neither one has ever actually been his.
Francis starts to sweat. “It is an advantageous marriage.” Eric’s scoff echoed. “She choose-”
“You’re lying to our faces now.” Eric snapped, infuriated.
Francis’ own face turned red. “Do not speak to in that tone, I am your uncle-”
“Shut up, Francis.” Jacques snarled and Francis turned nearly purple with rage. “He’s your next King.” The reminder doesn’t help. “You crossed a line, Francis. Eirian may be your daughter but more importantly she is Eric’s heir, and you had no right to negotiate a marriage for her.”
“You hardly cared about my marriage.” Francis hissed, completely forgetting himself in his anger and embarrassnt.
“I still don’t care about your marriage. No child you have with whatever whore you’ve brought into this house will ever out rank Eirian. Do you understand?”
Francis paled. “You can’t. I am Lord Soliel, the line is up to -”
“And I am King.” Jacques cut in. “I don’t care if you want to leave all your worldly possessions to whatever bastards you have, but none of them will have the title. None of them will be in line for the throne.”
Eric can see all of Francis’ sches falling down around him. It’s rare for a king to banish an entire line of children, especially one from such a close family mber and even he’s a bit surprised by his father’s venom.
~ tbc
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