by B. H. Young
"Preposterous!" Overseer Hacan yelled and the hall erupted into a tidal wave of damning words.
"This is treason, Overseer Lisbet," Gelfradus roared.
"Treason... you dare speak of treason," she said and the hall fell silent once again and she turned back to face the crowd. "Brothers and sisters, greed cannot be stamped out once it starts to grow and the removal of the Carver was not alone in their lust for the coin. For months, they have convinced you that you are simply enforcing the law when in fact they were selling your services to the highest bidder to rid criminal filth of their competition." She pulled two more papers from her coat. "These are records taken from the bank of Mystenthel of their accounts showing large deposits of coin that coincide with the removal of a dozens of the unlawful as of late," she said and split the stack of documents and handed them off, spreading them into the sea of Iron.
"Corruption is a disease that spreads and there are others under their besmirched hands." She peered over to Archivist Edverc who stood against the wall. "Archivist Edverc has done a good job at altering the records to hide their criminal actions but unfortunately for them, not good enough," she said and all eyes turned to Edverc who stood drenched in confusion.
"Take her into custody immediately for this slanderous act of treachery," Overseer Gelfradus demanded.
The hall remained silent as a crypt and no one moved to carry out the order. For a moment, she thought they might, but their angered stares were beyond her and she knew then that she had them. Lisbet signaled to Jack, Eric, and two others who approached the Overseers to restrain them. A small scuffle erupted from the two Overseers but the younger men subdued them quickly, placing them into chains. Three other Irons pulled Archivist Edverc, still overcome with silent tongue, from the crowd locking him in chains as well.
"It is with much sorrow and pain that I stand here this day knowing we were all played false. But Overseers are to lead by example and so to must my judgment serve as such." She stared around the room and then rested her eyes at the chained men. "Death," she said. "Take them to the gallows."
The room exploded into a commotion and the chained men hollered in defiance, screaming curses and accusations of liar to her as they were led out of the hall. Irons spat and cursed them as they passed by; some even threw handfuls of coin at them.
"Brothers and sisters," she said, calming the boisterous crowd. "You have all seen the evidence... this is a sad day indeed but we are Irons and we will endure this hardship, we will go on. I have sent word to the Royal Overseers in Northanos of this taint. Kenneth Cormick and Joldewin Giles please stand." The two Irons rose from the crowd. "Through years you two have proven your worth in weight to the oath of the Iron and it is with great pleasure on this dark day that I announce you as acting Overseers in place of the scoundrels until it is made official by the Royal Overseers."
Thunderous applause filled the air, fist knocked against tables and Irons rose to congratulate the two appointees. Lisbet crossed her arms and smiled as Irons clapped her shoulder. The moment she had waited for for so long had finally arrived. Vengeance was best to marinate before serving, and it tasted so sweet.
Chapter 29.
The air smelled of dust and pine along the Merchant Road and Lucinda had grown tiresome. Their horses nickered about in slow, steady gallop with exhaustion as well. The God's Eye Tower stood soaring in the distance reaching far over the tree line. Built long ago by Folrid Mathayus to mimic the four Titan Towers of Herevan in Dyerwin it looked nothing more than an extension of ego that could not compare to its inspiration, Lucinda thought, as she gazed it. Though it was a smaller replica comparably to the Titan Towers, its intimidating purpose was the same. It stood as a juggernaut of defense; its balconies riddled with small catapults and large ballistas all the way around its frame from top to bottom. Used by Folrid a century ago to fend off the invading hordes of Drath Sundergo in the Traphagen war, who sought to sack the mines of Renwhick, now it stood bare and decrepit like the mines of riches it once defended with great success.
The small village of Renwhick stretched around the lake like a split worm. Her father refused to abandon the old Mathayus outpost. He still believed there were riches hidden in the long dried out rock. A relic of a town that use to shelter great warriors, now its citizens comprised of farmers and a handful of guards who had long grown out of practice of their combative skills. Renwhick was a place where the lesser of the Mathayus lineage were sent to rot as a form of punishment.
Lucinda checked the carry bag strapped across her chest, she knew it was still there, but its contents had burdened her with paranoia and found her checking every so often. Her father's ledger was a prized piece of immeasurable wealth of knowledge on the Eldafienden's dealings in Terongard. The thought of allowing such an item to fall into the wrong hands would lower his standing in the eyes of the Overlords and possibly forfeit his life. Such thoughts gave a smile to her face as she galloped along Lestat.
She never gave an ounce of respect to the Eldafienden. Ruining her father in the process of elevating Lestat's standing within the Order tickled her with joy though. Sure once father finds out it is gone he will flood all of Terongard with soldiers to hunt her and Lestat, but they would be well hidden in the province of Padenmor by then, or at least she hoped. One would have to go through the southern lands to get to Padenmor and House Valhur would not take to Mathayus soldiers parading around their lands. It was not the only way to reach Padenmor but it was the quickest. Since the start of the war in Vyhoven, Lord Edwin Valhur had tightened his grip on the south. Most of his forces were sent to help in the war while the rest patrolled the terrain like a rabid pack of hounds. The man's ego was as beyond measure, just as Lord Willems, and needed an entire southern part of a province to house it.
The grudge between the Mathayus and Valhur dated back centuries. Many civil wars between the two occupied the pages of history. As with all petty bitterness, most could not even remember what started it. Her mother once told her that it had all began over an argument involving a cow. Lucinda knew all too well the quick temper trait of the Mathayus, so such a small irrelevant matter being able to start a civil war was not beyond believing.
Gone were the days when they would kill one another on sight, though, replaced with hardened brawls and an occasional death. For once, the feud would save lives rather than take them. She would still need to take great care, though. They were the children of Willem Mathayus and would be grand prizes for any Valhur looking to ascend rank. Lestat would defend his name with honor and bravery holding true in the ancient grudge with any rabble Valhur that dare press upon them with intent.
Lucinda looked over at him. Poor Lestat, he would do anything to help her and she had led him astray, going against father. Lestat was most caring and even-tempered, always willing to help others. At times, Lucinda found it hard to believe he was father's son at all. Dethal was more like father, except for the fancying of men. Maybe the vile rumors were true, she wondered.
She could not help but feel a little sick for using her brother for self-gain in her actions, but she was certain that her plan would work in his favor. If she had to drag his ass into success, kicking and screaming, than she would, and he'd thank her in the end. Lucinda peered down once more to the leather bag resting on her hip.
The ragged tavern was rather large for such a pathetic village as Renwhick, its upkeep was lacking and it reeked of sweat and dirt. Lucinda sat eating some grilled fish smothered in dill along with some boiled potatoes. Lestat had not touched his food and harbored the same look of despair he had when he realized she had stolen the Blackphisk from father's safe.
"You don't have to look so gloomy you know," she said. "After a rest up here for the night, we'll be out of father's reach by midday tomorrow." She slid a cut piece of fish into her mouth and gave him a smile.
"You think it is wise for us to even be here?" Lestat asked wobbling his eyes all around. The sweat of nerves had begun to wet his collar. "It's
like you are not even trying to avoid his reach."
"Father has had very little to do with this place in years. He simply keeps it afloat with coin thinking the mine will somehow re-grow its wealth." She took a swig of beer and covered a whispering belch with the palm of her hand. "Besides, I wouldn't exactly call the residence of Renwhick, Mathayus loyalist. Most of them look at this place as a punishment for misdeeds, whatever those may be according to father. If father had already realized what we have done, we would not have gotten this far."
"What we've done?" he said. "This was your idea, Lucinda. I'm not even sure why the hell I let you talk me into it."
"Oh, you put up such resistance to my convincing. Please," she scoffed. "Have you forgotten this will benefit you more than it will me."
She slumped back into her chair and crossed her arms. Lestat was stubborn as a goat. She had never once asked him to trust her until now. And he sits their sweating like a fat pig.
"Tell me, Lucinda, when will it benefit me, before or after father has me hanged?"
Lucinda whimpered a chuckle and shook her head at his words. "Such theatrics, you know damn well he would never hurt you. Sure, he may have the guards give you a lashing, but killed, no."
"For some childish act of defiance, but what we've done is no childish prank, Lucinda. While you may not respect the Eldafienden and cast them aside as radical fools I can assure you they take themselves and their dealings very serious. People's eyes have been gouged out of their fucking heads for simply glancing at the contents of the Blackphisk... and you stole it."
"And what are their dealings? Do you even know? What exactly have we been cleaning up behind?"
Lestat looked away a moment, snickering. "They have hired slayers to remove stewards and replace them with council members," he said and gazed her with fired eyes. "Not an action they'll take too kindly of having a Harbinger's account book stolen by his children I assure you."
His thoughts of concern weighed on her. Contrary to what he believed, she knew just how dangerous the Order was. Before it was all over, Lestat would be thanking her for the forceful push out from under father's shadow though.
"I do not pretend to know about the innards of the Eldafienden but I know enough. I know father took his position as Harbinger from the dying hands of another, I know the Eldafienden allows such cannibalism within their ranks and rewards them for such."
"Squabbles in their ranks are a tad different than them trying to seize control of an entire fucking kingdom. That is the part you seem to be forgetting, where do you even fit into all of this? You despise the Order and I can't fathom you are simply doing this to hurt father."
"Why not, the man deserves to be hurt. You think that it must be some complicated scheme backed by great reason because you have never endured what I have had to. It is, just that simple."
Lestat leaned up onto the table and said, "Lucinda I love you dearly, but you are mad, you've always been and I foolishly ignored the severity of your lunacy all this time because I felt some sense of being there for you."
Slander from him could always hurt her, but never had it felt as if her soul had been ripped from her so quickly. The look in his eyes was foreign to her. "How could you say such things to me," she stuttered.
Lestat frowned, reached up pinching between his eyes, and sighed. He quickly reached over to take her hand but she pulled it away. "Lucinda, I am sorry," he said. "I'm just scared is all."
Lucinda looked away and wiped the tear from her eye with her sleeve. "Why don't you just run back to father, beg his forgiveness, and tell him you tried to stop me." She jumped up from her chair and swigged the last bit of beer in her mug. "You needn't trouble yourself on my behalf anymore. I'll go alone."
"Don't be foolish, I will not leave you alone in this world."
"I'm going to get some rest, you'll either be here in the morning when I wake, or you won't," she said and stormed from the table, down the hall to her room and slammed the door.
The night passed in a whisk but she slept very little. Anguish was not a welcomed bedfellow and arguments with her brother would always linger. The hunger that rose from anger absent her guards found her having to feed herself. It was enough satisfaction to quell the hurt just a bit though, that the little she did sleep found her stuck somewhere between a bad temper and reluctant forgiveness when she had woke.
Renwhick was hardly awake when she saddled her horse. When Lestat had met her outside, he stepped to her, embraced her shoulder, and kissed her head, apologizing once more. She knew it always hurt him more than her, his eyes were very telling in that regard, nevertheless she did not respond. Lestat would not give up so easy and tried to spark conversation as they rode the morning hours away. She had already forgiven him as she always had but stayed silent to his bait.
Harpies Stone gave signal that they were now in the southern lands of Fleslinburg. Rolling hills as far as the eye could see with a border of mountains fading high behind lush forests in the horizon. They stopped to pitch fire and cook up a pair of nice hares Lestat had killed earlier in the morning. Lucinda shared in no idle chatter with him as they sat around the small fire eating their unseasoned lunch.
Padenmor would be a stretch of a journey and she could not get there soon enough, she thought, looked to Lestat and thought to spark a conversation, but hurtful words still repeated in her mind.
Lestat sat with arms on knees and his head low tearing at the rabbit. "So are you just going to stay mute the entire trip?" He looked up at her and asked.
At first, she thought not to reply but then said, "I'm sorry is my silence bothering you?"
"Lucinda," Lestat said with a mope of sincerity, "I've apologized what more do you want?"
"Nothing," she said and lowered her stare back to the ground.
"You know, you are very pretty when you pout."
"Do not pick at me."
"I'm not, truly you are."
She threw her hair over her shoulder squinting at him with a half grin smudged on her face. "Lestat, the charmer, you will not find me so easily swayed as those two Riverton harlots who hang on your every word."
"Harlots?" he said with a lighthearted glare. "They're not harlots they're proper mannered young women."
"They're your cousins," she grimaced.
"Oh please, they are so distant in relation they haven't an ounce of Mathayus blood in them."
"You're gross," she said and gave into the smile she had been restraining.
"There's that wonderful smile of yours."
Their new day banter was interrupted by the man approaching, walking his horse along by the bridle. Lucinda stood readying her hand to her sword, and Lestat did as well. He did not bear the attire of a Valhur soldier and stood odd, tilting his head with a wide grin. He wore a leather armored dark green long coat amid black trousers.
"Can I help you, traveler?" Lestat said.
"The Gods smile on me greatly, I should think," he said. "The children of the Lord Willem Mathayus, eating like peasants is surely a sight I would never have thought to see."
Lucinda snapped her eyes to Lestat and then back to the man. "Afraid you have us confused for someone else," she said and began to slide her blade from its sheath.
"Has it been that long for you not to remember me, Lucinda? Lestat? I should not be surprised the last time we met you were mere children and I a few years older." He squinted. "But I should say it is not hard to remember Roltharian Elves, no matter the age. Dardanos Eastmunn, at your service, or displeasure depending how the rest of this meet goes I should think."
His name jogged a vague memory for Lucinda. She remembered him to be a young man with a cocky attitude when last they met. The celebration of the birth of the King of Northanos first son drew many from all over to pay homage to him that day, her father included. Dardanos Eastmunn, The Jester of Chaos they called him.
"What is it you want?" Lestat asked with sternness in his voice.
Dardanos gave a sharp smile a
nd said, "I seen the smoke from your pitiful fire and was going to barter to fill my stomach with a small bite. But since the Gods favor me this day, information will do just fine I should think."
Of all the land, this bastard happened on them. She gripped the leather bag at the bottom, securing it. Uncertain as to what information he could want. "We have none to give," Lucinda proclaimed.
"If it's information you seek then you have stumbled onto the wrong fire," Lestat put in.
Dardanos raised his brow, leaned his head back, and stared at Lestat. "I disagree." He let go of his horse and walked closer to the small fire. "Lord Willem played coy with me a few nights ago as well. Had I not been in a particularly good mood you two would be orphans this day, I tell you the truth." He took a knee and warmed his hands over the flame. "I hear Lady Jillian met her end that night in a very compromising position with her husband. We could all only hope to go in such a way I should think." He looked to Lestat once more and smiled. "Her end came at the hands of the one who killed the steward in Helbrode. I hunt this person and my hunt would go a lot easier if I knew his next target."
Lucinda gawked with angst but a slight relief took her, as he did not know what they carried yet her hand still trembled at her sword. "We know nothing of this."
"I assure you we have no information in regards to the matters in which you speak of friend. Best be on your way now," Lestat said and took a firm stance resting his hand on the pommel of his blade.
"And I assure you Lestat, that the Eldafienden's actions are not as secretive as they would like to believe," Dardanos said. "There is no need to shine me yes. A Sentinel in Penthrall, Sir Danal Meriwether was stubborn with the giving of information I seek as well." He cupped his hands and gawked with cold eyes at Lestat. "He became very giving, however. Strange how the removal of fingers does that to a man. A knight is not much of a knight without his fingers I should think."