text: The rest of the meeting turns into dull specifics and crunching of numbers. You had won your price. The fish had bitten down on the hook. The only thing left was the arduous process of hauling it in. It had to be slow, lest the fish knew of its capture. You've seen the way Elaria looks at you change. She trusts you more, shows genuine respect.
  
  Still, even if it had failed, you came out of today with a solid plan of economic upheaval. In as little as but half a year, you'll have done more than your father in his lifetime. You'll have totally renewed the infrastructural backbone of your barony. It'll allow you to further your horizons and expand your influence. Then, and only then, will it be time to continue the revenge on to your dearest liege.
  
  So the days quickly pass by once again. Your wife becomes more and more incessant in her cries for attention. It infuriates you. How dare she pretend nothing happened. She had lost you and your love. She squandered her chance at redemption. Yet she can't know that until it's too late. You'll have to keep her happy and busy in the meantime. You'll have to meet her, for the sake of safety and sanity.
  
  "Robert!" Her voice enters your room. You steel your will.
  
  "Yes, it's me. How are you?" you couldn't help letting disdain seep in your voice.
  
  "Are you tired again, my love?" Luckily she's as naive as you remember.
  
  "I've been thinking a lot. Isabella, nothing will happen here for the next few months. I'll be recovering in a daily grind, while you'll be stuck here with nothing you can do. Remember how it was last time? You'll be bored and depressed. I don't want that for you." The warm smile you fake makes you sick once again.
  
  "Thank you for your consideration. But I want to stay here, with you. I feel we need this, honey. We need some proper time to ourselves" Like a filthy fly that keeps zooming about. Why does she have to be so difficult?
  
  "Isabella, listen to me. If you stay here we'll only fight. I need my space and quiet, while you need your stimulation. Wouldn't it be better for us to provide that to each other? Wouldn't it be only cruel to deny it?"
  
  Isabella stays quiet for a moment. You sense she's not agreeing with it at all. She struggles to make up her own mind before she responds, "What are you thinking?"
  
  "Remember all the time and energy we put into advising the duke?" Her face falters at his mention. "I wouldn't want our efforts to be wasted by my foolish recklessness." Her face shows small glimpses of guilt. You're striking a nerve. Good.
  
  "Yes," she stammers.
  
  "I trust you, Isabella. You were always the strongest of our duo." You're hitting your target hard. Isabella anxiously shifts her weight. "You always knew what do to and were capable of seeing the true path. There would be no one I would rather have maintaining our reputation than you."
  
  You sense she would rather be anywhere else other than here, in this room with you. She's afraid of what's going to happen. She doesn't want to leave for the capital, but can't find it in her to fight against your judgment. Speaking up against your words would probably be too uncomfortable for her.
  
  It offers up possibilities. Could you manipulate her further, use her as an active spy within your enemies' ranks? Would playing that game be worth facing the daily reminder of what she had done?
  
  > send her out of sight and out of your mind.
  You won't do it. However much you may hate her, nobody deserves to be toyed around with. It's the one thing that had scarred you the most. What you need is peace and quiet to properly plan, no distractions.
  
  "Look. I know this is hard for both of us, but it must be done." Maybe she'll accept it easier when it's seasoned in kindness.
  
  "Robert, don't do this. We can fix everything."
  
  "Now, please excuse me. It's getting late and you know how the healmasters demand of rest," you force a lighthearted chuckle, only to grab your ribs in pain. You're quite proud of your theatrics. "Goodbye, Isabella."
  
  As if on cue the very man walks in and promptly runs in to check your torso. "It seems the ribs are only sprained, you'll have to be careful Milord."
  
  Your wife, no longer the sole recipient of your attention, awkwardly shuffles out of your room. Faintly she mutters her goodbyes.
  
  Finally. It was dire time you had your castle to yourself. The quiet works wonders for your productivity. One by one you go off potential solutions to your problem. You want them both gone, dead, flown away into obscurity. You would ideally want to see them make their final journey yourself. It would only be right. One day you've decided you'd need another eye on the matter.
  
  "Elaria, you know what I'm planning. You know what I want. How would you do it?"
  
  "I'm glad you asked," she says as chipper as if you had asked her to show you her pottery collection. "I am dying to try out a new concoction I've been thinking of. It'll kill a target and everyone it kissed with it. You see, it's too thick to be broken down by the saliva and too sticky to be swallowed.' You can hardly believe your ears. This is a side from her she'd been hiding her entire life.
  
  "Wait, what?" you reply surprised.
  
  "You don't like it? Oh, we could always go with a tried and true method. Slip some in their wine and they'll be gone by nightfall. No traces. But it's less poetic, don't you think? We can hardly let your grand revenge plan be boring." Her innocent eyes are in stark contrast with the sarcastic mind behind them.
  
  "No. Stop telling me of your poison. I want this to be done properly. Man to man-"
  
  "Yes, yes. Poison is a woman's weapon. I've heard it," she interrupts dejected.
  
  "Come now. We'll have you practice on less important targets. I want something grand. I want to see the white in their eyes. I want to hear their last words. I want to be there when they find their naive baron had grown up."
  
  "How about this. I want you to play the political game. Earn back his trust, forge your way into power and finally have him fed to the lions. You'll be there as his rivals feast upon his carcass. You'll be the next duke, allowing you to do whatever you want. You can bring us both out of this backward barony." You notice how she's begun to speak more openly. The false niceties of a typical courtier have abandoned her. In their place, there is only an ambitious woman. She's desperate to become more, become greater. You can use that in the future.
  
  "Don't worry. All of it will be acquired, my dear. But don't mix business with pleasure. It'll be distasteful to mar your revenge with personal ambition. It'll be too impersonal. It'll only dilute the irony. After all, having others do my work I'll become nothing more than that frog."
  
  Elaria became quiet. She was not certain of what to say anymore, every offer shot down immediately. Still, you let an opening in your last statement. Losing her would be the end of you both, and she knew it.
  
  "No, I want to be there to do the deed myself if I can. I'd like to duel the bastard to the death," you say. It's an idea you'd be mulling about for several days now. It would be the perfect option. You would best him personally and stain his death with dishonor.
  
  "That would only be foolish, my Lord." Elaria had regressed into her role. Maybe you pushed her too hard. "There would be no way knowing he'd actually accept. It would be madness for him to even consider it. No, if you are so hellbent on playing the tough brute, we must organize an ambush."
  
  "Hmm, what do you propose exactly?"
  
  > say "Kill them both on their hunt."
  It was a good plan. It had just the right mix of ruthlessness and personal bravery. You'd be there, leading loyal men into a slaughter. You're already envisioning the scene before your eyes. It'll be good. Yet there's one problem.
  
  "Isabella hates hunts. How would you deal with her?"
  
  "Easy, you don't. Your so kind refusal will put her straight into lovey-dovey territory with the duke, just as before. He'll be practically begging her to join him on such a romantic excursion and she'll be unable to say no," she says with a wicked grin. You could see the cogs spin in her head. "He'll want to show her how tough she is, just as you are doing now, and embark with as little men as possible. If we're lucky he'll be dumb enough go alone."
  
  You want to say something, but she only shushes you.
  
  "No, not yet. I'm still thinking. He will want to impress her, show her how valiant he is. That's what she likes, what she reads about in her books." Her accurate observations are terrifying. "He will lead her south, to our forests. He will want to show her how much more a man he is than you. And to do that nothing less will suffice than a fully grown bear.
  
  Now if the duke is anything like I think he is, he'll be scared. Once in the actual forest, he will want nothing else but to retreat back into the castle. He will catch on to his stupidity. But he can't lose face; he can't show her his weakness."
  
  Now she fully turns to you, a broad toothy smile flashing her smugness.
  
  > say "And that's when we catch them."
  You're surrounded by trees once again. The moss beneath you gives way with every step you make. It's your second day on the hunt. Your prey is getting closer.
  
  Elaria was right. The duke did exactly what she'd expected. You both worked hard for this day, recruiting trustworthy men without allegiance. She had stayed behind while you indulged in your desires. You made a good team together.
  
  You spotted the tracks some time ago. It was obvious they both had no experience of moving through nature. Even a bear's tracks were harder to follow. You could almost read their conversation by their footsteps and the broken branches. They even carved out a stupid heart.
  
  There, you see them. It's eerily quiet. You order your men to crouch through the thick underbrush, carefully evading any dead branches. They know what to do. They've trained for this. You follow them from a distance, holding only a sword. It should suffice.
  
  Your men split, dividing themselves into two groups. It's a variation of the old pincer maneuver. One side will chase them as panicked dogs to the other. The wind roars its displeasure at the act you're committing. It's sharp blows tear your eyes. You're left alone with your blinding vengeance.
  
  It should be any moment now.
  
  You see one group closing in, faces covered in paint transforming them into terrifying monstrosities. When they're mere meters away, they deliberately make a sound. The duke turns first, seemingly on edge. He gives a bone-chilling scream and pulls your wife with him. Good, at least he didn't abandon her in grave times.
  
  They run. They force themselves forward as fast as they can, running from certain death. Sometimes they stumble, sometimes get separated, it's all useless. They are surrounded.
  
  The two parties now fully show themselves, armed with swords and nets. They move in position, enveloping their prey.
  
  This is what you lived for. The last months have been spent with only one goal in mind. Seeing your two targets trapped simply makes you feel alive. You once again feel yourself master over your own destiny.
  
  Isabella has already been caught. The nets entangled and captured her beyond saving. Your other target has had much more luck. He's stronger and faster. The fear makes him entirely another beast to deal with, much more ferocious. He seemingly holds his own against the tide. He cuts through nets, parries swords and dodges any lunges. Seeing his precarious position, he charges through the encirclement, cutting off any chance of a clean capture.
  
  That's when you have to jump in. With a loud yell, you catch his attention. He curses and changes direction, running straight at you.
  
  > try to parry his wild attack.
  This isn't what you had expected. Without slowing down he charges into you, yelling at the top of his long. A wide overhead swing follows.
  
  You see the blade coming for your head and push your own blade in its direction. There's no time to think. A loud metallic shrink sounds through the forest as your own arms give way. You don't have enough strength to do it. Your eyelids close themselves in a wasted reflex to protect your body. You can't look death in the eyes.
  
  A flash of pain erupts like a volcano all over your face. You feel blood seeping out, drowning you in the process. You're not dead yet. You had fallen down. A flashback overtakes you as you see your beast standing over you.
  
  "We're both dead before the sun sets."
  
  Another strike, your vision fades. You faintly hear yelling, fighting, another body falling down beside you. You remember letting out a guilty grunt of satisfaction. You've exacted your revenge.
  
  You'll die happily.