by M D Baker
One by one, my fellow conspirators faded away, leaving me nearly alone in my efforts. I couldn’t bring myself to truly resent them for their desertion; the conditions we’d been left in were simply untenable. The small pouches of gold I’d found tucked away beside Valda’s spellbooks allowed me to address the decrepit condition of my manor, a luxury many others hadn’t been provided. The state of near-bankruptcy led them to desperation, forcing most to seek redress through marriage. But unions among the nobility were most often acts of political advancement, not love, and The Unlanded no longer had anything of value to bargain with. Selling our worthless titles to some ambitious merchant or trader to appease their sense of vanity in exchange for wealth was the best any of us could hope for.
After years of decline, my fortunes were beginning to fare little better than the others. The Crown’s miserly stipend barely covered my expenses, and I’d repeatedly been forced to dip into my rapidly dwindling reserves to make up the shortfall. Supporting Jaine, Helred, Griff, and my four guardsmen was becoming a burden, but each of them had provided me with years of faithful service, and I refused to throw any of them out on the streets. But with my funds diminishing by the day, I had no idea how much longer I’d be able to hold us together.
The future was written on the wall clearly enough for anyone to read. Although we still clung to the veneer of nobility, the days of The Unlanded were numbered. While we were allowed the ‘courtesy’ of retaining our titles, the cruel charade reduced us to little more than curiosities. At some point, the curtain would be drawn over this ridiculous farce, and our names would be all but erased from the journals of history. The displaced nobility had become an intolerable reminder of our defeat—an injury that could only be healed by sacrificing us on the altar of Farren’s wounded pride.
Sitting at my desk going over the depressing figures wasn’t helping very much, and I cast Push, lifting a jug of wine to refill my cup once more as I tried to find some way to turn around the pitiful numbers. The grand ball that had been held at the palace the night before might’ve served as a welcome distraction, but I’d ceased attending most of those functions years ago. Without any hope of stoking the fires of discontent with Cyndhar, I simply couldn’t justify the outlandish expense of purchasing an elaborate gown for each and every occasion. Besides, I was fairly certain my absence wouldn’t be noticed. The visiting dignitary who’d apparently been the focus of the festivities was probably only interested in those who held real power, not some obscure Unlanded Countess.
A smile creased my lips when Jaine tentatively stepped into the room, providing me with a potentially happy diversion. Although she was technically my servant, Jaine had also become my closest friend over the years; Helred’s many stories about the short time we’d spent together as infants forging a strong bond between us. While she was always welcome to join me, it was the cause of her obvious anxiety that lifted my spirits for a moment.
Jaine had been seeing a farrier’s apprentice for several months, and she’d spoken of him fondly and often enough for me to know how serious things had become between them. Talk of their betrothal was never mentioned, of course, yet I could read her well enough to see the hope in her eyes. While marriage might cause her to finally leave my employ, her happiness meant more to me than any inconvenience that might cause, so I waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts.
“You have a…” Jaine’s odd pause and uncomfortable expression lasted long enough for me to realize I’d mistaken her purpose. “Visitor, my Lady.”
“Show them in,” I replied, too surprised by the unusual occurrence to ask who it might be. Unfortunately, Jaine’s flustered departure prevented me from correcting that oversight before my guest presented himself.
“Countess.” A man dressed in the livery of the King’s personal retinue swept into the room only seconds later. Though he wasn’t a member of the nobility, I rose to my feet in deference to his lofty station.
“How may I be of assistance?” I replied, suitably polite as I gestured towards the chair opposite me.
“You are aware of the emissary we received at the palace yesterday?” Refusing the seat, the steward barely halted long enough for me to nod in acknowledgment before continuing.
“He brought an intriguing offer, one that Duchess Surellia has presented to the King,” his sharply clipped tone and knowing glance communicated far more than his words. “His Majesty is hopeful that you will accept the invitation this envoy will extend to you later today.”
As Sorceress-Advisor, Surellia was King Herrold’s most stalwart protector and closest confidant. Very little reached his ears without first meeting her approval, and the messenger had quite tactfully informed me that the two of them had already signed off on whatever this emissary wanted.
“What is expected of me?” I inquired, tamping down the thoughts of a coerced wedding to some inconsequential dignitary before they could run too wildly through my mind.
“I have been instructed to say no more,” the servant replied with a thin smile, relishing the torment he’d so obviously inflicted on me.
With the barest of nods, the man withdrew, leaving me to stew in uncertainty. The idea of being swept further away from my home and beyond even the hope of reclaiming what had been stolen from me was too much to bear. While I had no idea what sort of ‘proposal’ awaited me, if it was some offer of marriage, I intended to ensure that this unknown suitor’s first impression was as unfavorable as possible. Stomping upstairs to my rooms, I stripped off the simple dress I’d been wearing in favor of a set of riding clothes and fastened my thin leather armor in place. Tightening the sword belt around my waist and sheathing several blades completed the ensemble, and I ventured into the courtyard to add a few finishing touches. Beads of sweat were blooming on my brow and dark stains soaked through my clothing when Jaine interrupted my sparring a few hours later.
“Should I have him wait while you get changed?” she prompted with a skeptical glance.
“Something wrong with my appearance?” I offered a crooked smile in response.
“Show him to my study,” I quickly added, forestalling her reply. “I’ll be there shortly.”
Taking a seat on one of the small benches, I waited for what seemed like an appropriately inconvenient amount of time before venturing inside. Though I normally took the steps more gracefully, I trudged up the stairs to my study without any care for the lack of decorum. Once I reached the doorway, I found a dark-haired man sitting in a chair with his back to me.
As he rose to his feet, I was struck by the man’s handsome features. Hazel eyes peered at me with a restrained inquisitiveness, and his chiseled jaw seemed to hint at some inner reserve of strength. But my admiration ground to a halt when I noticed the golden sash draped across his crimson tunic. Had the King’s representative not visited me before this… animal’s arrival, I might very well have slain him right where he stood—consequences be damned.
“Countess Blackwood.” The bastard dared to greet me with the title his people had stolen from me.
“What brings you here?” I answered stiffly, ignoring the bright white smile he’d offered as I fell into the tattered old chair behind my desk.
“An uncomfortable need, I fear,” the Cyndhari dog replied as he retook his seat. “The citizens of Blackwood are suffering, my Lady, and I was hoping you might be willing to come to their aid.”
“Those lands are no longer mine, or have you forgotten how I’ve come to be here?” I did my best to rein in my increasing agitation as I gestured vaguely at our surroundings.
“I understand your resentment.”
I ignored his comment, casting Push to levitate a small decanter and fill a glass with wine; a courtesy I didn’t bother extending to my guest.
“This appeal is not made on behalf of Cyndhar. The only issue is the safety of innocent people,” he responded to my silence.
“And the nature of your request is what, precisely?” I inquired, not out of any real
interest, but our conversation had already lasted much longer than I’d wanted, and I was eager to be rid of the foul intruder.
“A band of outlaws has been raiding the outlying villages,” he began, feigning empathy for the plight of people I knew he cared nothing about. “They started only stealing grain and livestock but have since gone on to kill several of our citizens—”
“This is a military matter. I see no need to intervene,” I cut him off, dismissing whatever ruse was behind his feeble attempt to manipulate me.
“We thought so too, at first,” the man continued, unhindered by my scorn. “But the bandits have eluded our patrols, and we cannot spare enough men to hunt them down without leaving the Keep itself vulnerable to attack.”
“You think that would trouble me?” I smiled, not bothering to hide my satisfaction with his plight as I absently swirled the wine in my glass.
“Likely not,” he replied, still completely unfazed. “But as I said, it’s the welfare of your former subjects I hoped might persuade you to help us, not any advantage Cyndhar might gain in the process.”
“We both lost a great deal in the last conflict, my Lady. A new war will benefit neither of us.” The envoy rose as he prepared to leave, though I didn’t bother returning the gesture. “These raiders seem intent on more than just pillaging. I fear their true goal is to rekindle the hostilities between our kingdoms.”
“Find someone else,” I replied, waving off his plea.
“There is no one else, Countess.” His eyes took on a more earnest expression, demonstrating his skill with the art of deception. “Cyndhar was never blessed with the number of conjurers Farren has. You’re the only one of any real worth who isn’t already sworn to protect other lands.”
I knew that much to be true, at least. As rare as the talent was in Farren, Cyndhar had even fewer sorcerers than we did by a wide margin. That fact alone had been all that prevented their vast forces from overwhelming us. Each county and district guarded its protectors jealously, so it was no surprise that the envoy had been unable to secure assistance elsewhere.
“If you refuse my request, I’ll have no alternative but to summon aid from our armies,” the man’s voice fell to a near whisper as his hand reached for the door, leaving me with a thinly veiled threat. “So close to the border, anything might happen… and it probably will.”
Leaning back in my chair, I stared out the window, seeking some calmness in the clear, blue sky. Despite my revulsion, I knew I’d been burdened with a very difficult decision. Aiding Cyndhar in even a minor fashion galled me to no end, and my disgust only increased with the knowledge that my help would benefit the same beast who’d slain my father and likely been responsible for Valda’s death as well. But the envoy hadn’t been wrong in outlining the risks involved. The troops required to subdue the renegades pillaging my former home would likely stray into Farren’s territory during their pursuit, and even a single skirmish could quickly unravel the delicate peace, plunging both our realms into war.
The emissary’s discretion in putting forth his proposal to the Sorceress-Advisor had been a shrewd first move, and the pressure the King’s messenger had applied that morning all but ensured I’d eventually be forced to give in to the request. Not that I couldn’t see the wisdom in our cooperation. Through my many years of maneuvering, I knew that Farren was completely unprepared for any conflict, and we would only lose even more territory if one was thrust upon us. It was just the bitter irony of returning to my home practically shackled to some Cyndhari dog that I found most difficult to swallow.
In spite of the poor position I found myself in, Valda taught me there was frequently an opportunity to be taken advantage of even within a setback or misfortune. The aid the Cyndhari required was not the sort of assistance that came without a cost. Though his maneuvering nearly guaranteed my service, I intended for it to come with a very steep price tag attached. The bastard wasn’t the only one who’d be paying for the affront, either. I knew what lay ahead of me that evening, and I’d be extracting an additional toll for the burdensome inconvenience my King had foisted on me.
A quick bath and a clean dress helped to set my mood right, and I waited in my study for His Majesty’s steward to return. Jaine notified me of his arrival right on time, and she ushered the man in while I enjoyed a deep sip of wine.
“Welcome.” I grinned as I set aside my glass. “Would you care to sit?”
“I was hoping this would only be a brief conversation, my Lady.” Though he was still quite abrupt, the man’s tone was far more accommodating than it’d been earlier.
Once the stage had been set, I began our little dance with a bold step.
“If you know the nature of the request that was made of me, I’m sure you can understand my reluctance.”
“As I said before, the King would look upon your cooperation with gratitude,” he replied, offering me nothing in return.
“Yes, I would be honored to have his favor, of course,” I countered, picking up my glass again. “But I fear the cost of leaving my estate here in the capital would be too great a burden for me to bear. The journey alone would be a tremendous expense, to say nothing of the bills that might accumulate during my absence.”
“I’m sure the Lord provided fair compensation,” he demurred once more.
“I’ve been offered nothing save the goodwill of Cyndhar, for what little that’s worth,” I responded, staring into the depths of the red liquid. Proper etiquette required that the Cyndhari envoy disclose the complete terms of his proposal, including payment, but I took advantage of his apparent lapse.
He shifted uncomfortably at the awkward position I’d backed him into. “I can double your monthly payments for a full year.”
“Two.” I glanced away from my cup to hold his gaze, letting him know this was not a point I’d surrender.
“Very well.”
The steward relented far too easily.
“And there will be no taxes assessed during that period,” I quickly added before he could become comfortable with the swift victory.
“That can be arranged,” he replied through tightly clenched teeth.
“Then we are agreed.” I smiled, withdrawing a sheet of parchment from my desk with the terms already outlined on the page.
“If you would authorize this on behalf of the Crown?” I added as I slid the paper towards him.
With several rushed strokes and a soft grumble, the steward placed his signature on the bottom of the document, one of the many variations I’d drawn up in advance. The conditions would ensure the security of my estate for several years; hopefully, long enough for me to figure out a more permanent solution to my financial difficulties.
“I expect to see you in the palace tomorrow morning.” The steward’s face twisted into a knot, barely concealing his frustration on the way out.
“Shall I ask for you?” I replied in an overly sweet manner.
“No.” He declined to introduce himself even then. “You’ll be looking for Lord Tayson.”
At least I finally had a name for the Cyndhari pig…
Chapter 8
The following morning, I donned a dark blue dress that matched my mood perfectly, though it might’ve been more appropriate for a funeral. The small sapphire necklace around my neck was one of the few pieces of jewelry I hadn’t been forced to sell off, and it completed the outfit well. Once a quick look in the mirror ensured that the armor of my station was firmly in place, I headed off to sell my soul for a paltry stack of silver.
I found Griff waiting for me in the small parlor downstairs. His chainmail was polished to a high shine, and a dark green cloak draped over the old Guard-Captain’s shoulders. He was frequently a man of few words, and that morning was no exception. With only a quick nod to ensure that I was ready to depart, he led the way outside.
The walk was a short one; barely more than a handful of city streets lay between my small estate and the outer walls of the great palace. The close proximity gu
aranteed that the area was dominated by luxurious manors of the wealthy elite, and shops catering to their discerning tastes—homes I was seldom invited to visit and stores whose shelves I couldn’t afford to browse.
Despite the ease of the journey, most would have taken a carriage ride for the occasion. The nobility never missed an opportunity to flaunt either their wealth or privilege, and the brief trip provided a chance to do both, yet it was one of the few things I could no longer bring myself to resent about them. The walk offered a poignant reminder of how much worse my circumstances might become.
Though I’d been ‘gifted’ with a decrepit estate, I’d been able to restore my home to a condition that somewhat resembled its former glory. Others hadn’t been quite so fortunate. I passed by crumbling mansions that housed multiple generations of once-proud families who now hovered on the brink of destitution. The small staff I maintained was a comfort they could no longer afford, and they were forced to bear the shame of performing the roles of servants for any guests they might have. Beyond even that embarrassment were the disgusted glances and awful slurs whispered behind their backs; cruel comments about unclean hands that emptied chamber pots and the like. Even a change in fortune would never fully redeem them in the eyes of their former ‘peers,’ and it wasn’t lost on me that my own dwindling finances left me perilously close to sharing in their fates.