Liberate

by Krista D. Ball

  Edmund’s main job had been inventory. It sounded boring, and perhaps it would have been to a younger Edmund, but he found that organizing the massive amounts of items, properties, and staff that Arrago now found himself in possession of actually appealed to him. The chaos had resulted in many records being lost, so there had been no easy way for Rayner to do his job beyond the use of his memory. So Edmund tabulated, Edmund counted, Edmund organized, and then Rayner slowly pushed the tax collectors’ reach beyond their small county.

  He worried when he’d first been assigned the job that he’d not be able to write. He was still learning how to use his left hand, but thankfully most of the accounts involved nothing more than the occasional initial or small note. In the rare times he needed proper composition, he’d call in one of the clerical support staff to help. Rayner and Stanley had a gaggle of them, and they happily shared. Not one complained.

  There were days, like today, he wished they would complain. Then, he could lash out and yell. Some days, he just wanted to yell until the pressure on his chest melted away.

  For the last two weeks, he’d been working on a list of the northern estates who’d not paid their harvest taxes. It was no surprise to anyone, since many of the great estates were devastated in the war. Many stray Magi who couldn’t get across to the Rygent Islands decided to head north where they’d assumed it was safer. Instead, that had landed them in the middle of the civil war’s second front, where feuding landowners finally got to settle scores against one another. With the addition of Magi fighting for their lives and historical grievances to settle, over half of the northern barons and lords were now dead. Several bloodlines had completely died out in the fighting with all lands and titles reverting back to the Crown. None of which had been redistributed back out yet, making the situation even more volatile.

  Having the extra lands, for now, didn’t seem to actually help any situation. All of the people reliant on those estates still had to be fed, and most of the fields had been destroyed during the war. One particular marquis’s troops thought it would be amusing to salt the soil of his feuding neighbour. Thankfully, reports said they’d done a piss poor job of it, but that ruined acres upon acres of crops.

  Arrago had ordered half of the grain seed in storage be given out to any farmers, no matter their rank. Edmund had spent most of the last winter organizing that. There still wasn’t enough sent north, as many of the lords didn’t want help from the crown. It was all bullshit.

  “What are you doing up?”

  Edmund looked up to see Lord Rayner. He’d wrapped himself in a massive blanket that he’d taken from the Rose Room. “I could ask you the same thing. Come, sit.”

  The old man tottered into the room and eased himself in one of the worn chairs across from Edmund. “This chair is very shabby.”

  Edmund smiled and went to lintel of his fire. “It is shabby, sir. Would you like some warm wine?”

  “Anything to help knock me out,” Rayner said.

  Edmund brought the warmed bottle to his desk, then returned to pick up two wooden goblets that he kept near the wine bottle for such emergencies. He held the bottle against his chest with his stump and used his good hand to wiggle the stopper off. Then he poured a half glass of warm fruit wine each.

  “I’m wide awake myself, so perhaps this will do me in, too,” Edmund said, taking a sip of his wine. He sat back into his own chair.

  Rayner squinted over at Edmund’s ledger. “Taxes?”

  Edmund made a so-so gesture. “I’m turning my eye to the more northern ones.”

  “You know that you’ll end up going there yourself, mark my words,” Rayner said.

  “Me?”

  “You. Rutherford is up there, boy, and I’ve heard he’s not kept quiet about the king being a fool.”

  “Arrago is not a fool!”

  “I know that, and you know that, but the north doesn’t know it. Rutherford disagreed with the king’s stance on slavery and refused to follow the law. He’s always seen access to the king as a means to extending his lands and nothing more. It should come as no surprise to anyone that Rutherford is assisting the unrest in the north.”

  “I support Arrago’s anti-slavery law,” Edmund said.

  “Your father was an abolitionist. Of course you support your friend now,” Rayner said, waving a hand. “But the northern and eastern lords...they will be difficult to deal with. They continue to run their trade across the border, continue to capture innocent peasants and field workers just to make a little coin for themselves. Do not think a little law raising the taxes on slaves will be noticed by these men.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I was planning on discussing it in detail with Her Majesty if she returns from this foolhardy quest of hers. She wishes to develop a proper royal guard. I believe this is a noble goal. She should have several outposts throughout the country, notably also in the north and near the eastern borders.”

  “Arrago won’t be happy about her being away from him for so long,” Edmund mused.

  “Does the king know he is permitted to visit the north?” Rayner asked. “It would be good for him to go, in fact. He can keep Prince Henry here at the palace. Invite the Dowager and Duchess to come for an extended stay. Move their household to the palace. Doesn’t the duchess have a son near Henry’s age? With that elven girl of yours, they can grow up together. Alliances are useful, even at his age.”

  A smile flickered across Edmund’s sullen mood. He hadn’t tried to encourage it, but Opal did feel like his. It warmed an empty part of his soul to know that Rayner, of all people, even saw it.

  But Rayner had to be warned, too. “Arrago won’t agree to an arranged marriage for Henry, so save your breath.”

  Rayner grumbled at that. “Lord Edmund, I have long since given up on any notion of proper politics. For the sake of my heart, I am taking Stanley’s advice to follow the king’s lead and work toward improvements that interest the king. In fact, I have found that it’s a very enjoyable way to spend my time. It’s a noble cause, it helps the people, and I can’t see any harm in ensuring people don’t starve to death.”

  “May Apexia help us is there is widespread famine. Half the country will be invited to camp on our front lawn.”

  Rayner gave an exaggerated sound. “It pains me how true that is. Tell me the truth, though. Did you honestly only find out about the Gentle Goddess’ passing?”

  “Truly, Lord Rayner. Arrago would never speak of the end of the war, and I didn’t push. I’d assumed for the last year that his reluctance was...” Edmund looked down at his stump. “Well, the obvious, honestly.”

  Rayner openly stared at the pinned jacket sleeve. “Does it still hurt?”

  Edmund lifted his arm, bringing the stump to eye level. He did a little twist at the elbow before lowering it. “It’s not itchy like it used to be, thank the goddess. I swear that was worse than the pain at times. I still get the jolts where it feels like I am running across carpet in wool stockings, but those are nearly gone. I sometimes forget, when I’m in a hurry or tired, and I grab at things. I’m surprised the servants haven’t all quit from the messes I’ve made.”

  Rayner made a thoughtful sound. “My brother lost his leg from an infection. He said his foot used to itch so bad that he’d scratch the air where his foot used to be to try to stop it.”

  “Did it ever go away?”

  “No, but he got better at scratching his wooden leg after a time,” Rayner said with a chuckle. “Too bad he died years ago. He could have talked to you about all this.”

  “I don’t need anyone to talk to,” Edmund snapped.

  Rayner simply looked at Edmund. There was no pity in his eyes, either. Just knowledge and wisdom. It was though he saw through Edmund, saw through the lies he’d been telling to hide how he’d not be coping as well as he should have been.

  Rayner didn’t speak, even when the stare became uncomfortable. His face didn’t change expression. His eyes didn’t betray an
ything.

  Edmund was the one to break the gaze. He lowered his head and said, “Thank you, though. I know you were just being kind.”

  Rayner gave him a disappointed look, one that looked a lot like his father used to give him frequently. At least, Rayner didn’t add in the personal insults and degradations his father would have offered. “The Dowager believes you should get married.”

  Edmund chuckled. “So I have heard.”

  “She’s found several eligible women for you, all of excellent breeding.”

  “Lord Rayner, I am done with women.”

  “Young man, you need a wife.” He said it in the exact same tone his father had used on many occasions, saying the exact same words.

  “I am the king’s closest friend. I have wealth, both from my father and...the queen left me a small property in her will. Arrago has given me a title and lands. I don’t need a wife to increase my lands. I don’t even need all that I have right now.”

  “You need a wife, son, to wear done your prickles.”

  Edmund scowled. “Rayner, I appreciate your concern, but I have a lot of work to do. I will not be able to do it if I have a wife and a dozen snot-nosed brats hanging off me.”

  “Then I will let Miss Amber know that you cannot assist with the young one. I’m sure, with time, little Opal will forget you. Or not. But what does it matter?”

  Edmund stared at the old man. “And what does that mean?”

  “You already have a snot-nosed little brat, as you called her, hanging off you. Yet, you seem more than capable to doing your work unabetted. One wonders why you endure.”

  “You’ve made your point.”

  “I don’t believe I have,” Rayner said. “The Dowager is planning your life, boy. Either you take control of it, or she will.”

  “I am not afraid of the Dowager.”

  “Then you’re a fool, and I don’t help fools.”

  Edmund lifted up his arms. “Rayner, what do you want from me? I am a one-eyed, one-handed man. I have sacrificed for Taftlin. Can I not live whatever is left of my life in peace and quiet?”

  “No,” Rayner said harshly. “No, you cannot. You are a member of court, regardless of your attitude due to your condition. I am here to warn you, son. The Dowager will trick you. She is smarter than any of us and you will end up miserable if you are not on your guard.”

  “I will repel any woman sent before me, I promise.” He stared down at his stump. “I’ll just show them the scars from where an elf used a belt with a pebble caught in it. Left a nasty little hole in my arm. I didn’t feel it, as the pain of having my arm hacked clear off a few minutes before was much, much more. Perhaps I can tell them all about how friends’ brains splattered on my face. That will attract the ladies.”

  Rayner pushed himself up from his chair. “I see you are either too maudlin or too stupid to understand the advice I offer. Good night, Edmund.”

  “Good night, Lord Rayner. Sleep well.”

  “I will not be surrounded by fools like you,” Rayner said as his parting words.

  Edmund glared at the open door where Rayner had disappeared from sight into the dark hallway beyond. He had no interest in marrying. None of the girls at court interested him, and he had no parents to hound him to settle down. He’d already inherited his property. His will was already drawn up, it just needed a special signature.

  Edmund pulled open his drawer and picked up the rolled scroll. Arrago might not come back and he needed a signature. He drew in a deep breath, snatched up the scroll, and walked toward Arrago’s study. Then it didn’t matter if he married. It didn’t even matter if he lived.

  ARRAGO YAWNED INTO the back of his hand as he arranged his staff. They waited patiently, but then they always did. It came with the title, he supposed. He was still adjusting to that life, to this new weight of responsibility and luxury.

  Then, he’d been enjoying a quiet evening with Bethany, basking in the glow of her back in his life when all insanity broke out. He’d always known the kind of adventures he’d be dragged into as long as she was in his life, and he’d asked her all the same. Still, he did think he’d get to enjoy a full month before she insisted on rushing off to go cause Apexia only knew what kind of trouble.

  Rayner was going to nag him to death for sure now when they got back from this damned adventure. He’d been delaying his coronation celebrations due to the lack of gold and this would just delay them further. He was going to need to do something when he got back. He’d been king for over a year now. He needed to throw a dinner or something before Rayner’s head exploded.

  A thought occurred to him. He turned to his housekeeper, Miriam, a matronly woman, and said, “I’ll need the seal fur cloak for the boat, but I’ll also need a cloak to wear once I’m there. Surely, I have a cloak that fits me.”

  “There is always the brown cloak, Majesty,” the housekeeper said.

  “Rayner will murder me in my sleep if I bring that one,” Arrago muttered as he put ledgers and books into his locking desk drawer.

  “He will not murder you, Majesty.” She considered for a moment before adding, “He may suffer an attack, however.”

  Arrago barked out a laugh. “Well, we can’t have that. Can you ask...someone to go through the closets and find me a cloak that I can wear? I don’t care if it’s gaudy. I just want it to fit.”

  The housekeeper wrote in her little notebook with her pencil. “Cloak: gaudy, fit Majesty.”

  Abrams, the palace butler, cleared his throat. “Will you need the ceremonial armour pulled out of storage?”

  Arrago looked up from his task. “We have ceremonial armour in storage?”

  “King Daniel had it commissioned, Majesty,” Abrams said, not even bothering to hide his scorn. “It proved ineffective in battle.”

  “Talk to Brennus. He volunteered to arrange my guard for the trip.”

  Abrams nodded. “I am concerned that we might not have anything appropriate to Her Majesty’s height, since she is also quite slight. Comparatively speaking to men her height, I should add.”

  Arrago waved a hand. “Let Brennus deal with that, but please help him with anything he requests.”

  “Yes, Majesty. If you will excuse me, I shall organize the carriages.”

  “Bethany will probably want us to travel by horseback,” Arrago said. He didn’t bother to hide neither his scoff nor the yawn that followed.

  “If Her Majesty wishes to travel in the morning, there are not enough horses to bring everyone. Recall, Majesty, that we sent most of the horses from the stables to your various properties,” Abrams said.

  Arrago waved a hand to acknowledge it didn’t matter to him. “Fine, fine. Have a dozen riding horses available, however, in case she insists.”

  “As you wish, Majesty,” Abrams said. “With your leave?”

  Arrago made another dismissive gesture before yawning again until his eyes watered. He went back to adding ribbons to the various ledgers on his desk, so that he wouldn’t lose his place in any of them.

  Miriam spoke up once Abrams left the room. “Lord Stanley has written to Castle Gree to advise them of your journey. The courier has already left. Will they have enough provisions to stock for the journey, or will we need to provide the bulk of it?”

  Arrago looked up from his work to stare blankly at her. “I...”

  “With your permission, I shall begin the necessary purchase of supplies. I will write to Castle Gree’s housekeeper, to make her aware that we will be compensating the castle’s food stores and for her to keep detailed records of our needs. Still, if I may, Majesty, as it will take several days to appropriately stock all of the ships for the journey, I believe we should immediately begin sending servants with supplies to restock the essentials.”

  “What would I do without you?”

  “I couldn’t possibly say, Majesty.”

  Arrago snorted. “I think I’d starve to death.”

  “That would reflect poorly upon me, Majesty.”
<
br />   Arrago snickered. “Very true. Very true. If I can put you in control of the food and supplies situation, that would be appreciated.”

  “I have sent a maid to assist Her Majesty. What particular needs should I arrange?”

  Arrago rolled his eyes and groaned. He tried never to do that in front of the servants, but...Bethany was always the exception to the rule in matters of decorum. “I think Bethany should be left alone to do as she pleases.”

  “But...” She cleared her throat. “Yes, Majesty.”

  Arrago placed the last book in his drawer. “You haven’t met Bethany before now, have you?”

  “No, Majesty. I’d heard of her, of course. She never came to the Winter Palace during the war, and it was too dangerous to travel outside of the capital, so I’d not even seen her until now.”

  “Fair enough. Well, I suggest you let Bethany work out her own needs. She has her chambermaid and I’m sure she is already yelling at that poor girl over not packing the right things.”

  “I sent her my best maid,” the housekeeper said, frowning.

  “The problem isn’t the maid. The problem is the queen.”

  “I couldn’t possibly say,” Miriam said.

  Arrago laughed. He noticed glum-faced Edmund in the doorway and said, “If you could look after that?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. She curtsied and said, “Of course, Majesty. If Her Majesty has any needs, please do not hesitate to wake me.”

  Arrago waited for Miriam to leave before he motioned for Edmund to take up one of the upholstered chairs nearest the fireplace. He picked up a small keyring from his desk and locked the drawer. While doing this, he asked, “You can’t sleep either?”

  Edmund collapsed into the chair that Arrago had offered. “The maids are running up and down the corridors like the palace is on fire. It’s pissing me off.”

  As if it had been pre-planned, someone ran down the hallway outside of Arrago’s study. He walked over to the door, flung it open, and shouted, “Stop running!”