"Just three, my lord. All three members of the Aegean royal guard."
If it were an inspection, there would be accountants with him. Things were looking better, thought Rennar.
As soon as he was dressed, he rushed out of his bedroom. The office was not too far away. It was on the same floor.
Rennar took a deep breath before he opened the door to his offices and stepped inside.
The treasurer, a wrinkled old stick of a man wearing crimson robes, was sitting with his hands folded. The three royal guards stood in rapt attention as if they were part of the room itself. Rennar had only once been escorted by the royal guard. It was when Emperor Thyurin bestowed on him the governorship of Bren. Having the guards next to him was a truly glorious experience.
Besides being some of the most potent soldiers in combat, they signified status in the isles. It meant you were protected by the emperor himself. He always envied the fact that the treasurer always had three with him.
"Lord Treasurer. If you had only sent word ahead, I would have had the most magnificent feast prepared in your honor. It is not always that—"
"Save it!" came a curt response that sent a chill down Rennar's spine.
Was this bad news?
"I'm here on a matter of utmost importance. Have a look at these documents," said the treasurer.
Rennar picked up a few of them and began reading. Accounts. Records of transactions.
From the third level.
Holmwood's seal and the official seal of Eora on each one of them.
Rennar felt as if the entire world was closing around him. There was a huge lump stuck in his throat. The word ‘treason' kept popping up into his head. Aegis had only one punishment for treason, a crime it considered the most disgraceful.
"Now read this letter," said the treasurer, handing him a small folded paper.
Rennar didn't care anymore. He was done for. All his dreams had come crashing down in a single minute.
Still, he forced himself to read the letter.
It detailed the illegal sale of iron to Eorans by the Governor of Bren, Rennar. Iron ore in excess of four hundred tons, with projections hitting as high as nine hundred tons by the end of the year, when the secret, illegally operated level was made fully operational.
And then Rennar saw the signature and seal at the bottom.
Azrael Llothran. The little bastard had betrayed him. Completely.
Rennar couldn't even feel anger anymore. He wished he were alone so he would be free to vomit.
"Now, have a seat, Governor," said the treasurer.
Rennar nearly fainted, but was eased into the chair by his captain, who had been standing right behind him.
"Shocked, eh?" said the treasurer, snickering. "We weren't."
What?
"You should know by now, Governor- nothing, and I mean nothing, escapes the eye of the all-powerful emperor. Did you really think we didn't know when you first started digging the third level? Or even before that, when you visited Musados in the west for your clandestine meeting with Bancroft?"
"I... don't understand," said Rennar, still feeling queasy.
"We had always known about the contract with Duke Bancroft. And if we didn't like the idea of your selling iron to them, do you think we would have left you in power all this time?"
"You knew about the third level?"
"Yes. In fact, we counted on it. Did you know there was a trade ban proposed in the Eoran emperor's court? Against Aegis? It included the entire Aegean Empire as well as the eastern cities in Ryga under our control. It was spearheaded by Bancroft himself because we had choked the amount of iron we were selling them. They need the steel for their war in the tundra. However, for reasons which I cannot divulge, it is in our best interests that this battle drag on as long as possible. Bancroft had been trying to unsuccessfully find another route of access to iron ever since his proposal was discarded in the court. Not for his lack of trying of course. The bastard managed to turn six of the most powerful noble houses in Eora against us."
Rennar was beginning to understand. The treasurer continued speaking.
"Your little operation in the mines serves a purpose. It keeps Bancroft happy. For one, he doesn't get as much iron from you as he would from us officially if we agreed to his ludicrous demands. Secondly, he feels very satisfied with himself. He thinks that he has made a fool of the Aegean Isles. He likes his little secrets and schemes. That satisfaction also keeps him from sticking his fat face in....other places we would rather he didn't."
"So... you knew all about the third level?" asked Rennar again.
"Heavens, man! Are you thick in the head? I've already said so a dozen times already! We knew about the damn third level. Me, the emperor, the Council of Three, everyone!"
Rennar tried hiding his embarrassment.
"There's no need to worry, though," said the treasurer. "You can keep that level operational. And feed them something, for heaven's sake. Or you'll have a rebellion on your hands. You already requisition more mining picks than needed, so it's not like you've succeeded in hiding your operation. On paper, at least."
Rennar again felt the need to vomit.
"Just keep the production under six hundred tons and we won't have any problems. Everything remains as it was. The gold you make from the third level belongs only to you, but we must keep up appearances. It suits our needs this time, but we can't have other governors undertaking such operations on their own, so there will be sanctions. Worry not. Nothing you can't afford. A sizable donation to the council's war chest, and... I've heard of some lucrative purchases you've made in Eora. Some vineyards that I would like to own a small share of. Thirty percent, to be exact, and we can put this entire matter behind us."
He was a joke. To everyone—the Council of Three, the treasurer and the emperor.
By the heavens, the emperor!
They were all laughing behind his back! Stupid Rennar and his plots. He thinks he can outsmart us. Shush! Not too loud. We want him to think he's clever. Laughter kept echoing in his head. The sanctions didn't bother him as much as the embarrassment.
"There is one final matter, though," said the treasurer, standing up.
"The boy needs to go," he continued in a grim tone. "He is a disgrace to the Aegean Empire. Someone who thinks nothing of betraying the chain of command, or his country. His actions in the Deckan campaign alone should have led to a trial for treason. And it would have, were it not for his father. And that bit with saving General Albinus's life helped. Giving him the position of overseer was the final test to see if he still had a place in the Aegean Empire. And he has given us his answer. Sad, really. The boy held much promise. You should hear his instructors at the academy talk about him."
Azrael. That little prick! That son of a bitch! He was the cause for all this embarrassment! Rennar would show him. He would show him what it meant to cross Rennar!
"What about his damned father? The man still holds considerable influence in the court."
"His family will be spoken to. They are good Aegean citizens and will put the empire first."
Rennar nodded. He had already begun thinking about what he would do to the boy. Killing him in the mines would be the easiest. His body could be disposed of right there. Yvain would be more than glad to do it.
But the blundering oaf was just as likely to muck up the job. Almost all the guards at Marduk were drunks. If they failed and Azrael got wind of things, it would be bad.
He would have him brought to Norvind and killed by his own guards.
Chapter 68
Saddle sores. They were the main reason Azrael preferred his own feet to those of a horse. Still. Try walking all the way here from Marduk, thought Azrael to himself, laughing.
He was already in the streets of Bren, only a short distance away from Castle Norvind. He decided to walk the last mile back to Norvind. The night was one of the more pleasant ones he had seen on Ryga. Most of the streets were deserted except for the night g
uards tapping their spears to signal their presence.
When he first heard that Rennar had summoned him to Norvind, Azrael panicked, wondering if the governor had figured out the plot. But it turned out to be an invitation to a banquet. The Eoran emissaries, the very same ones who Azrael had met on his first day at Norvind, were in town. Their business in Aegis concluded, they were now making their way back to Eora.
Azrael had heard about the preparations for the banquet, which were much more lavish compared to previous one. Rennar was probably relishing the prospect of more illicit trade with them. On the bright side, maybe Azrael would also get to meet the interesting Zalearr he had befriended. Astorr, if he remembered correctly.
It would be annoying having to tolerate Rennar's disgusting person, but he took comfort in the fact that the greedy governor's days were almost at an end. He had already received a reply back from the treasurer. A very prompt one at that, stating that he was thankful for such initiative on Azrael's part, that this was a very serious matter that would receive his fullest attention.
Rennar's days were done!
The tone and the language that the treasurer used seemed to indicate that there would be a new governor. There were also some suggestions that it could be Azrael.
Maybe he could send a letter to his father suggesting the idea. His father would love it. It was far more than he had probably ever hoped for Azrael. Maybe he could finally whip things into shape in Bren if he was the governor.
He could start fixing things at Marduk. Beginning with Yvain. And he would finally be able to send Olaf and Brie on their way to Aegis.
That notion did sadden him a little. He had gotten used to their company. In spite of the gravity of her loss, Brie was still happy. And Olaf, while still guarded about the details of his past, was proving to be an excellent tutor for Azrael. Their training sessions in the mornings were worth looking forward to. Rhial magic, though Olaf never called it that, was something entirely new to him. It was like another world waiting to be explored, and although Azrael had no stick to measure himself against, he sincerely felt he was making good progress. Setting aside the collaborative style that Olaf was emphasizing, mastery of the physical styles seemed very well in tune with regular swordplay. The principles were the same, except it was like having two additional limbs to factor in to the movements.
Olaf had laughed when Azrael first mentioned it. Apparently Rhial cants could be used to compensate for the weakness of one arm over the other, allowing for ambidexterity. It took a small portion of one's energy, but a lot of knights found it worth the effort to wield two weapons simultaneously.
Azrael, however, preferred a single long sword. Mostly because it was the preferred style for Aegean tournaments.
He could see the entry into the castle courtyard.
He quickly went over the things that he would need to do once he was in the castle.
There were the overseer's documents that he had signed, which would also require Rennar's signature. He would also need to meet Lord Doyen. The man had been impressed with Azrael's progress. Once Rennar was disposed of, he and Doyen would have much to discuss regarding Bren.
There was also the matter of the banquet. Azrael had been sulky and moody at the last one. Mainly because he had been disappointed with the state of the city. But this time, there was much to look forward to. Perhaps he should procure some wine from his family's vineyards for the banquet as well. It would be a good gesture.
And finally, he would have to try and stop by the mage tower. He hadn't heard back from Lorian about the creature. The messenger had told him that the creature was definitely delivered to one of the mages in the tower.
It was strange. Perhaps Lorian was really busy?
Maybe once they met they could also have a friendly duel. Olaf had taught him the basics of coating his blade with Rhial magic. It would function in a way similar to a spell-breaker enchantment. One needed to know the type of spell being cast in order to coat the blade effectively, but it would still be fun trying it out with Lorian.
He was on his way to leave his horse at the stables when he heard a voice that sounded strangely familiar.
"Azrael Llothran."
Azrael turned back to see a eight-foot-tall, thin, silver-haired man standing behind him. A Zalearr.
"Astorr! How are you?" shouted Azrael.
The Zalearr looked exactly the same as the last time Azrael had seen him. The same clothes, the leather armor, and the massive, thin warblade strapped to his back. Even the expression on his face was the same. Sad and forlorn. Azrael continued.
"I'm surprised to see you here already. You were supposed to arrive tomorrow, were you not?"
"I see...changes within you," said the Zalearr, ignoring Azrael's question completely.
"Changes?" asked a puzzled Azrael.
"You seem more complete. Nozdrakh. The voice. You have heard them. You have spoken to one of them."
"Rhial cants, you mean?"
"The ones you call the Rhial Knights. Yes, they speak to the Nozdrakh as well. Has someone been teaching you?"
Azrael was surprised the Zalearr could glean that much merely from talking to him. But then again, they were race that was thousands of years old. And still a mystery to humans. The only comprehensive book on them was written by some lunatic from what Azrael had heard.
He was about to say yes, but he remembered that Olaf was a hunted man. Azrael had promised him safety. He hesitated for a while, before the Zalearr spoke.
"The question disturbs you, I see. I apologize then, and shall not press further."
"No!" said Azrael taken aback. "It's just that—"
"I rode ahead of my human companions. Their pace did not suit me," interrupted Astorr, changing the topic.
Azrael would have liked to know more about what the Zalearr knew about the voice. Nozdrakh, he had called it? But he decided he would be better off letting it go for now, preferring to avoid bringing up Olaf's name. The Zalearr, too, seemed to have lost interest.
"How was your trip to Aegis? Fruitful, I hope? You went there for more soldiers, yes?"
"The humans went there to discuss soldiers and iron with your countrymen. I went there simply because I haven't been there before."
"Interesting. I take it you visited the capital city, Ithaca. Did you like it?"
"I stayed at your Emperor Thyurin's palace. I met some interesting people."
The palace? That was an honor rarely accorded to guests. Even Eoran nobles. Azrael had been to the palace only once, and that was to receive his award after winning the Aegean tournament. He had known of trade emissaries visiting Ithaca before, but there was another smaller palace attached to the emperor's palace, where they stayed. They only visited the main palace on business.
"Whom did you meet?" asked Azrael.
"I met the Council of Three. I would have liked to meet the emperor, but he was unavailable."
Azrael's eyes would have literally popped out of his skull if it were possible. Staying at the palace was one thing. An audience with the council?
"Strange, though. There were six people, but they were still called the Council of Three. I expected there to be only three people."
Azrael laughed. That was a well-known joke in all of Aegis.
Originally, when Emperor Thyurin had founded it, the council had only three members. The highest authorities in the Aegean Empire. Each one was said to be as powerful as a king in his own right. An entire secluded wing in the palace belonged to them.
With a complete lack of foresight, the architect Keljus, a genius in his trade, decided to decorate the entire wing with themes of the number three. Triangles, mathematical symbols, and all sorts of figures such as three-headed lions were carved into the walls. Naturally, as the strength of the empire grew, more members were eligible for the council. Thyurin decided that Keljus's foolishness shouldn't prevent the appointment of worthy people to the council, and refused to restrict the membership to three. They could ca
ll themselves whatever they wanted, said Thyurin.
And so, their name remained the same even though they had six members.
"They originally had just three members," laughed Azrael.
But it truly was impressive that they had met the council. Normally, matters of trade were handled by the treasurer. They would have to meet one of the generals if they wanted military aid.
Eorans had been visiting Aegis for years asking for aid in the tundra. Never had they been allowed into the palace. Why now?
"There was one among them I thought was strong. Perhaps much stronger than you," said Astorr.
What? Why was Azrael even in the picture? Of course, the councilmembers were stronger than him. One of them, a mage named Tiberius, was strong enough to level a city on his own. Azrael had even heard rumors that he had. The man had been a constant companion to the emperor and could be called the highest-ranking councilmember. He had grown into a prominence during the Rygan invasion.
Rumor had it that there would be a confrontation between him and the fabled mage Gawain if the latter were to enter the war. But thanks to the complete indifference of the mages of Norvind, the confrontation never happened.
"Tiberius, eh?"
"One of them might have been called that. But no. The man who calls himself Atticus..."
"What?" asked Azrael, shocked. "He's the newest member of the council. You thought he was stronger than Tiberius?"
"I would believe so. There was something strange about him. Hidden and threatening. He took great pain to suppress his power in my presence, but I could still tell."
Interesting. Who would have known?
Azrael had seen the man once—handsome, more than seven feet tall. He always hunched a little when he walked. If not, maybe he would be as tall as the Zalearr. Azrael had thought him exceptionally vain. He was most easily recognized by a long, resplendent fur robe he was never without. Even in the hot island summers he wore it as a cape. He was always surrounded by fawning women. Most people thought him charismatic, but he just made Azrael uneasy.
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