by P. S. Power
"No, Prince Gerent is needed for this mission. He should go, even if it's difficult for him. The county seat is well away from Gala however, so I doubt it will be an issue there. We might not want to talk about it too much. I know that if those things had happened to me, I might not wish it to be a topic of casual conversation." There was a cold and slightly angry look to his face. Erid blushed, and Wallace looked away, then changed the topic.
"Agreed. Sinclair first, then Harris? Or, I guess it should be Baker, Sinclair, Harris..."
They all roughly agreed to that, since they were, Gerent reminded them, both running out of time, and starving innocent people for every moment they dithered. That got Dorgal to take the ship up, going very slowly and with decent control, to move south a ways, and a bit east, landing outside of a large, but well put together seeming city. It had a couple of large palaces, but the one for the new Count was marked by being in the colors of the place. Deep forest green, and sky blue. It worked well together, for a walled compound. Possibly less so for clothing, depending on who was wearing it.
Taking a deep breath, he didn't ask for the others to go with him on this leg of the journey, planning to just load up what Terry had sent and drop it off, like a good delivery boy should. Without speaking to anyone in particular or asking for a tip. That last bit got him to smile, since he didn't need coin anymore, he didn't think. He hadn't fired it up, but Tiera had given him a device that would, with minimal labor, make almost anything he could think of. Baubles and gold, jewels and even, if he needed them, things like wax, paper and pens.
That meant, he realized, that he was pretty well set in life, at least until the device eventually stopped working. That would be years at least. It was on stone, after all, which proved its quality that way.
"I won't be too long, I hope. We need to move out to those in need, but we are right here..." He jogged to the back of the ship and left quickly, noticing that several guardsmen were coming out of the city on horseback to look at the space ship. He was in his fast craft, with the boxes for the Count in the back, and simply flew over them, not moving too quickly. No one pointed weapons at him, which was nice. At least until he landed inside the wall of the Count's place. Then, as soon as he got out, four men in sharp looking outfits descended on him, each pointing a small white wand at him.
Shield stripping weapons. He actually had one of those too, and had for a long time, since Tim had stolen one for him from Tiera. Not that it was real theft, but it hadn't come from his adopted sister herself.
"Halt! This is the residence of Count Baker, Lawrence Morris. May I ask your name and intent, sir?" That was pretty polite, but the weapons didn't move away from him, being pointed steadily. No one seemed all that worried however, once they saw him. Not that they knew who he was.
"Um, hello. I'm Gerent Lairdgren? Uh, Countier Six, Baker, if that helps me to not be attacked? I have a delivery of goods from Terrence Baker, Countier First, for the Count. Magics to help the county?" It was, perhaps, lacking in conviction, but the man in front put his little pale pen shaped stick away, and smiled. No one else did that, or relaxed, but it was reassuring, after a fashion.
"Do you mind if we take a look? Not that we disbelieve you, but it would..." He stopped, not certain what to say, Gerent was willing to bet. Not trusting him, an unknown man, was sane and probably the fellows main job. Saying that could cause a massive problem however, if he was, as he'd just stated, a Countier, standing in his own county. Which he actually was.
The whole thing boggled his mind for half a moment, but he covered with a graceful motion at the back of the Tim-Craft.
"You may! In fact, if you'll help me unload, we can kill two birds with one blow. I'm on a tiny bit of a schedule, making aid deliveries from Harmony." He didn't go into where that was, but it also didn't seem needed, since the men just looked slightly surprised, rather than like they didn't understand him. Of course, their old Countess was the Queen there, and their first Countier lived there as well. It might, he realized, but pretty normal to them, as an idea.
He popped the back open by brushing his hand lovingly over the side of the green rectangle, which was only about ten feet long at the moment. That allowed him to show the cases, which took up most of the interior. Removing them, one at a time, the man whistled to the others as he sorted through them.
"This must be nearly a million gold worth of magic, if not more. I guess we should have you stay and talk to the Count? He's not in at the moment, seeing to a minor dispute on the western border. Good man that way. Always goes himself when he can."
Gerent shook his head, and showed the man how to work the speaking devices, so that he could show the Count later.
"Like I mentioned, I really need to be to the next place already. With this however he can speak directly to Terry and find out what all this does. Or me, of course, if he needs to arrange a visit, or I guess, if he has orders for me. Um, let him know that, if he does, to try and keep it kind of easy for a while? I'm set up running errands for Queen Tiera for the time being. I don't want to stint my duty to the county, but..." He looked a bit chagrinned, but the man in charge winked at him, in a friendly enough manner. It was probably improper of him, given that Gerent was a noble now, but also pleasant to see. This then wasn't a man that feared nobles too much. Meaning that his Count wasn't harsh, or needlessly cruel, most likely. That varied, from place to place, but working this closely with the man, at his own home, the guard would have acted differently if he'd been mistreated. Or possibly if anyone had been.
There were people that you didn't push, or take chances with.
"I'll pass that along if I can, sir. Thank you, for taking the time to see to this for the county. I don't know what the effect will be from it, but given the Count and his wife, this will be well used to help everyone. Good people." There was meaning to that, and the rest of the men seemed uneasy, but Gerent understood. The man was risking punishment, being familiar with him, personally, to test and see what the heirs were like. If they were mean or spiteful. Demanding high treatment at all times.
He just closed the back of the vehicle with a touch, and started to climb in, really feeling time slipping away.
"That would be great! Thanks, everyone. If you need anything, just use one of those devices to get in touch, or ask the Count or Countess to do it for you. Gerent Lairdgren. It's marked there."
Then, closing everything down, he lifted off, heading back to the ship.
The whole thing felt like he was literally flying from one task to the next, not taking a real break at any given point, even when he sat for a while. He traded off with Erid and Wallace on piloting duties, going over how to control the ship, just in case it came up. Erid had a good grasp of the idea already, but Wallace had never even been at the controls of a Fast Craft. Not even a regular magical carriage or a little Tam-Craft.
The boy didn't seem ashamed of the lack either.
"Those are all hard to get, aren't they? You can't buy most of them, and I don't have the kind of contacts needed to get one as a present. Maybe I should suggest to Queen Tiera that she and I date sometime?" He was joking and smiled, more than a bit sheepishly, as the words came out. "I'm sure what she really needs in her life is a rather plain looking Baron First making offers like that."
Gerent had to think about that for a bit. The boy wasn't that great looking, it was true. A bit big in the ears, and as he'd mentioned, plain through the face. No worse than Gerent was however. Even his new and vastly improved face, when reflected in the few mirrors he'd noticed, was serviceable, but not attractive really. Better than he'd ever even bothered to hope for, but that had been because of where he'd started in life.
So Wallace was a bit normal looking, but only that. Not ugly or strange. His hair was short enough that it seemed well kept, and his skin an even tan that was a bit lighter than Gerent's own. Not a lot however. There were no pocks on his face, which anyone that had ever touched a healing amulet was free of too, but he didn't sm
ell bad and seemed to care for his teeth.
What else was a man supposed to do about his looks? A disguise amulet might help, but like the expensive and hard to get craft, there was almost no way for the man to even earn one of those.
"That sounds like a good idea. She won't be mean to you about it, so it's worth suggesting. Even if you just use the date as an excuse to talk about politics. True that won't get you a ship like this, and might not earn you a place in her bed even, but if I were your father I'd figure it a job well done to try. Just having her as a friend would be useful." That got him thinking about Patty, who, he knew, was sort of the same kind of thing for him. Except that they were supposed to be friends already. They were.
He knew that doubting that was just him being sulky, since she didn't love him. Knowing that didn't make the pain go away, but he'd lived with pain of all kinds forever. One more barely made a difference to his life. Or it wouldn't if he made a point of setting it aside.
Count Sinclair was about as unpleasant a person as Ger had ever met that wasn't busily kicking him, or trying to stuff something into his behind at the time. The man was about forty, or perhaps a bit older, and looked like someone had told him that Gerent wanted to have sex with him, against his will.
Sour and more than a little scared at the edges.
"What is this now?" He waved at the large craft floating over his Capital with disdain, which got Gerent to bow, but before he could explain the aid that was being delivered the man started waving them away.
"Leave. I... Don't want you here. You'll frighten my people and they've already been through enough! Go! I command it." The words themselves were pretty reasonable seeming, but the tone was snooty and annoying enough to wash the rest of it away.
He nearly just got back in the smaller vehicle that he was using for deliveries and flew off, but Wallace bowed and forced the man to do it back, which set Erid and then him into motion. After about two minutes of various bows, they all seemed to agree that they were at the end of the chain and he managed a smile.
"Forgive us! We don't want to frighten anyone. We have an aid package, from Queen Tiera of Harmony. Food making devices and transport craft. Some other things to help with the coming troubles. You want us to unload them." It wasn't a question, and the man looked ready to tell him to stuff his presents up his behind, when Erid cleared his throat.
"That... Might be for the best, Count Sinclair. From what I can tell, things are only going to get worse, over the coming years. Besides, Prince Gerent came all this way just to give you things."
That got the man's attention, and he worked out who Gerent was pretty quickly on his own, and what it meant even. He tried to soften his words, but it didn't work very well, the man still coming off as a hole.
"Ah? I was unaware that Queen Tiera had a child yet. Such a tall and healthy one, too. Or are you her..."
Gerent didn't let him fill anything in, in case the next words were as bad as they seemed like they might be. It was as if the man was spoiling for a fight, or would have been if Ger was as petty as most of the Noram nobles. He just bowed slightly, and explained the whole thing, the man sniffing at him as if being a noble by appointment or adoption didn't really impress anyone.
He held his tongue in the main, since his duty was delivering aid, not feeling good about himself. It hurt a bit, being treated like that, but again, it wasn't his first time. Just the most recent one. Taking the things back because he felt a bit put out would be hurting people that weren't even there. This man, the Count, seemed the sort to eat well, even if children starved next door. Not that he was fat, but once they got things going out and others came to get food and devices for delivery, it was clear that a lot of them were simply starving in truth. How things had gotten that dire for them, he wasn't certain, but this place was pretty far north, so losing even a single growing season might be enough to really hurt.
The man did soften a bit when he realized what had come in. Food for all his people, without end. No matter how poorly things went in the future, everyone would eat, and it was good food too. Made from magic, but filling and tasty enough. The little ones would have milk and bread, meat and vegetables, as well as a slice of cake or two, eventually. They could make staples for cooking, and whole finished products just as easily, for emergencies.
"Thank you. I was a bit abrupt, perhaps, when you arrived. I feared the King had rescinded his word to protect my people. It's good to know that he's allowing this."
Wallace looked around and then back at the man, who was taller than he was, being about the same size as Gerent.
"This is part of the shipment meant for the rebellion, Count Sinclair. The King... Didn't stop us from coming, but I'm not all that certain what he knows. I thought you should know that." He didn't seem happy to be saying the words, and they came out as if he expected a rebuke.
Ger just shrugged.
"Part of the price of getting the aid was that it be shared with everyone. It was simply decided on that it might work best and most efficiently if not all the food devices and healing aid was left in the hands of a man at war. Hence us coming to you directly. I don't know that this wouldn't have been delivered to you all evenly, but just in case..."
It was the truth after all, and even Erid nodded to the man, confirming it. Then, his family, at least his Aunt, who seemed to love him, was on the rebellion side. It might have made a difference as to how he thought about the whole matter.
They bowed at each other for longer on the way out than the way in, since it was clear that he was kind of important, adopted into titles or not. Then, after getting all the helpers back to the ship, they moved up and over to Harris, which, from the air, was mainly forest, with a few vast tracks of open farm land. There was a small portion that touched the ocean, but it wasn't much of the coastline. Most of that was owned by Ford in the south, and Lairdgren to the north.
Gerent wouldn't have known that, but Wallace pointed it all out to him, having memorized the map of the Kingdom.
"When you don't have friends, it's important to keep busy." The words were deep and dark, but not muffled.
Pointing, the younger man had Gerent fly to the Capital there, Boggston, almost directly. It didn't take too long to find, and they managed to land outside the main city without settling on anything, wanting to avoid any menacing hovering, since the last noble had sort of complained about that. This, Gerent decided, would have to be the last of the day's trips. He'd get back to the Capital of the Kingdom that night, and first thing in the morning, get everyone back to their own homes. True, not everyplace had all their deliveries yet, but he could hire some of the work done.
The Two Bends Fast Delivery service would give him a good enough rate, he was willing to bet. It was a business still run by the family, which in that part of the world really meant something. All of Lairdgren was like that too. Family first wasn't just a motto there, but a way of life. Harris, as a whole, was influenced by that, but he hadn't really noted the feeling as being half as strong, when things came down to it.
Then, he wouldn't have, would he? Left in the care of an uncle, if the man had really been related to him, instead of anything more familial.
He didn't stand on a lot of ceremony, just setting up the last load, and taking Wallace and Erid again, for extra clout. They were both clearly nobles, and known to the rebels. Wallace seemed to have been so far at any rate.
He went to the largest house, figuring that it would be the right place, but it turned out that it wasn't, being the Dowager Harris' keep, instead. The butler informed him of this rather curtly, but managed a smile if a dry one, for Gerent anyway, saving the words from being rude.
"Do you gentlemen require aid? I'm sure we can task a boy to take you to the needed-" He was cut off, when a very elderly looking woman, who had to be nearly a hundred, patted his arm, moving the servant out of the way.
She didn't speak, for a long time, just staring at him directly, her eyes bright and curious seeming. S
he seemed to be thinking about something, and finally came to an internal conclusion. She nodded at him at least, and then looked away.
"I'd wondered if this day would come while I still lived. Well, don't just stand there boy. Come in. We have much to speak of, you and I." She wasn't commanding about it, seeming embarrassed instead. Still after he didn't move, his mouth working for a while she smiled. "Don't worry, Gerent, I won't bite."
"Ah..." He said, wondering how she knew who he was at all.
Then he went in, because running away didn't seem a viable option at the moment. Unfortunately.
Chapter eight
The scene inside was as normal as any other very old, but nicely put together dwelling would have been. It was a large place, being about half the size of the King's Palace in the Capital, and done in the traditional wood and stone inside. The big difference here was that this lady, the Dowager Harris, seemed to love carpets. There wasn't just a carpet in each room they walked through, but barely a single spec of the stone floor underneath could be seen.
They were all in red and gold too, but had an aged sense about them, with the centers being worn down compared to the edges, after hundreds or thousands of people had walked on them for decades. He didn't judge however, since the rest of the place looked expensive enough. What the carpets were for he didn't know. Or ask about. He was a bit more concerned with the fact that this lady, a noble, knew who he was by name.
In the last week he'd met with over half a dozen people that he'd known before who could barely make out who he was, even after being told. How had this lady, a stranger to him in every way, looked at his face and instantly make out who he was supposed to be? There was an easy answer of course, in that one of the other people that he'd visited in the last days had simply communicated ahead. Probably with her Count, but that didn't mean the information hadn't been passed to the man's mother in conversation. Gerent relaxed, since that made more sense than anything else would. So much that it nearly had to be true.