“There’s not much to think about,” Avaline replied. “I want to become a Lady of the House. And Nelson will be my Gentleman. That is that.”
The way she spoke so firmly, so confident and without hesitation made me worry about her motives. But it was like I said before, I didn’t have the luxury of choosing who to marry off. An alliance was more important than Avaline’s opinion on Nelson’s strength.
“Very well, I’ll make the arrangements,” I said. Hopefully Eustace would take this news well. If not? I suppose there’s not much he could actually do about it anyway.
Chapter 26
Sigmund’s general suggestion was we wait a week or so to make the marriage proposal. Eustace still had to deal with the attempt on his life and frankly, I didn’t want to know what that entailed. In the meantime, I had territorial expansion to worry about.
Each territory had a set size to it, containing different “lots”. These lots were designated areas where new buildings could be placed. Different buildings had different functions, but what I needed right now, more than anything, was a Watchtower. At the most basic level, a Watchtower took up one lot and was capable of providing me an alarm when an enemy force was heading my way. Upgrading the tower would grant me earlier warnings and even report the total number of golems coming my way.
My current territorial holdings were tiny. We had three lots, one per territory. A paltry amount. And since each lot was already filled with a building, I had no room to expand. The best option would be to try and acquire some territory from those Small Powers. And since I was about to get in bed with the Frankinsons, it would be of the utmost importance to try and buy land from Henshaw Ranches before the marriage went through.
Was this dirty dealing? Well, I wasn’t obligated to tell these people all of my relationships, nor were they obligated to afford such a courtesy to me. So what was the harm in trying to buy a lot or two from them?
Riding our regular horse carriage was quite bumpy compared to our luxury vehicle. But Sigmund had insisted that I take traditional carriage out of the garage, since the people we were visiting were horse ranchers. “No doubt these people will resent the horseless contraption,” Sigmund had said while prepping me for the journey. “After all, they sell horses, don’t they? Imagine driving up in their major competitor’s vehicle? They’d be hostile.”
So now, I was stuck with a bumpy, miserable ride all the way to the Henshaw Ranch. Accompanying me on this journey was my sister-in-law, Sophia. While Avaline was taking lessons in etiquette, Miss Sophia had taken to wandering the house listlessly. When she heard I was heading out to meet farm folk, she insisted on coming with me.
The woman was eerily silent on the trip and I knew not what to say to her. She often looked at me with resentment, but I suspect that had something to do with my physical similarity to her dead lover. We didn’t say a word to one another on the long, uncomfortable drive out to the meadowlands.
Eventually the carriage came to a stop and the horses whinnied in protest as the driver struggled to control them. He too had forgotten quite a bit about driving horses, much preferring to simply use the command wand to order the horseless carriage along.
“Easy, erm, stop!” the driver shouted as I climbed out of the vehicle. I had opted not to bring any servants along, less it be seen as flaunting our wealth to the Henshaws. They weren’t nobility after all, so I wanted to do my best to prevent class envy.
As I clambered out of my seat, I noticed that Sophia had not moved from where she sat. She merely waited, hands folded in her lap. It seemed she knew the etiquette in regards to ladyship. Did Eric teach her such manners? Or…had she sought out such etiquette lessons in hopes that one day she’d be brought into Eric’s household. Such a thought broke my heart. I opened the door for her and helped her out.
“You are most kind,” she said.
Behind us, a loud sputtering and hissing, followed by a terrible shriek heralded the appearance of a horseless carriage, a gold plated monstrosity with not one but two cars! One car was quite large, designed to presumably hold a horse and I could see movement within.
“Hey there,” came a voice from inside the garish vehicle. It was a man’s voice, tinted with that country accent that came from living far from the city. The carriage stopped as he hopped out. He was a tall man, dressed in blue overalls. He wore a straw hat atop his head and a wide grin on his face.
“Hello! I am Richard Blake, Gentleman of the Blake Gentry,” I said, walking across the lush green field to meet the man. There was a snapping and hissing, followed by the sound of the horse car opening up. A beautiful chestnut-colored horse emerged from the car and shook its head, snorting loudly as it stretched out a little. Once it was finished stretching, the magnificent creature took off running in the field, as fast as it could. It ran anywhere and everywhere, aimless but excited to be free.
“Is…is that coming back?” I asked as the man met me halfway. Sophia strolled beside me, saying nothing as usual.
“Oh, Habbler? Don’t worry about him. He’s just training for the show tomorrow,” the man said, stretching out his hand. “Name’s Gurlick Henshaw. I don’t have a fancy title, but you could say I’m the man of the house.” He looked at Sophia. “And who’s this rose standing next to a thorn like you?”
“Sophia Blake,” she said, presenting her own hand to Gurlick. He was quick to lean down and kiss the top of it.
“A pleasure, miss,” he said. “I take it this isn’t a social call, else you’d have asked to meet at my ranch house.”
“Well, my visit concerns this field more than anything else,” I said, gesturing towards the wide plot of land. The meadowlands consisted of four lots. “I know we’re both busy men, so I’ll cut to the chase. I’m interested in purchasing one of your lots.”
“Is that so?” Gurlick asked, rubbing his chin. He didn’t seem terribly surprised by this proposal. This indicated he most likely had offers from other folks. “What makes you think I want to sell off my land?”
“I won’t be so crass as to claim that you don’t need it, for who doesn’t need more land?” I said. “But the issue comes rather from my own need than anything else.”
Gurlick was taken aback by this, his face quickly changing to an expression of shock. “It’s rare to meet a man who opens a negotiation by stating his own needs,” the rancher said. “Normally they try to hide that from me.”
“Well, sir, the way I see it, we’re neighbors. Regardless of how things end today, I’d rather deal with you honorably and honestly in the hopes of sparking a friendship between our peoples,” I explained.
The horse came galloping up to us at full speed. I braced instinctively as it charged, but the beast stopped expertly, able to control its deceleration with precision. It trotted up to Gurlick, who placed a hand on its head without turning away from me. He started to stroke the horse and it whinnied a little, clearly enjoying the attention. “That’s a mighty kind way for you to open up a dialogue,” he said. “Tell me, what do you need a lot for?”
I was quick to explain my recent ascension as man of the house. I left out the murder and assassination aspect, but otherwise shared the tale that had unfolded thus far. He seemed quite interested in it, listening to me the entire time, never taking his eyes off me. Sophia merely stood by, silent and stalwart. I could not help but wonder what was going through her mind at this time.
“Sounds like you’re having an eventful year,” Gurlick said after I finished explaining everything. “I’ve always been jealous of those folks who join the Gentleman’s War. Course, I’ve always been jealous of gentlemen too. But at the same time, it might be more of a pain in the ass than anything else.” He paused at that and smiled. “So you say you want a watchtower. One lot will give you the space for that. And I’m guessing that since you didn’t open up this negotiation with a bar of gold, you don’t have the funds to really pay what I’m willing to ask.”
“Still, you shoul
d at least state your price,” I said.
“If you gotta ask, you can’t afford it,” Gurlick said. He continued rubbing his chin, a mischievous grin coming across his face. “You a gambling man, by any chance?”
“Not particularly. I had one bad hand at cards back at college and swore off the practice entirely,” I said. That bad hand had cost me both my alchemy notes and my pants.
“Well maybe you should reconsider, because I’ve got a little proposition for you. See, one of my old pals in the south, Count Ivan, has been complaining to me of severe boredom. Racing season isn’t for another two months and his county has grown formidable, meaning no one wants to invade him. If I can think of anyone who’d be up for a friendly battle, it would be him. So, let’s make a wager. If you can fend off Ivan’s advances on the territory of your choice, I’ll give you the lot.”
A strange proposal. “And if I lose?”
“Then I get the territory you couldn’t defend. A lot wagered against a lot.”
I frowned at such an offer. “I can guarantee you that a single lot is not worth the Vineyard or the Fire Spice mine. Those buildings produce tremendous amounts of resources, while this land here only seems to have space.”
Gurlick rubbed his chin again. “You’re right. The whole damn field. What do you say? If you win, you get the Meadowlands; if you lose, I get whichever territory you defended.”
Four lots? For one battle? Hot damn! The possibilities for that land were endless. And best of all, I didn’t have to play peacemaker with Gurlick once our family married into the Frankinsons! We weren’t becoming partners or allies here, just gambling buddies.
Sophia tugged on my sleeve, prompting me to face her. She was scowling. “Give me a moment, if you will?” I asked. Gurlick nodded and turned to attend to his horse, speaking to it as if it were a person.
“I think this is wildly reckless,” she quietly said. “Gurlick clearly knows Ivan has superior forces. There are two kinds of men who gamble with strangers: hopeless degenerates and those who know the game is rigged.”
Wise words. But I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this. “Supposing Ivan is a powerful foe, so what?” I asked. “It’s a friendly game. The Count gains nothing but a fight, and I gain some valuable experience fighting someone stronger. I’ll wager the Vineyard. We can survive without that.”
Sophia did not appear convinced. “You would really roll the dice on your ancestral land?”
“Ma’am, every day I wake up I feel like someone else is rolling the dice for me. And it’s only a matter of time before they roll in someone else’s favor,” I hissed. “We make our own destiny and our own luck. If I can’t get an early warning system, then I’m screwed either way.”
“You have other neighbors, do you not? Check with them, see if maybe they will sell you land,” Sophia said. Her words were sharp and pointed, never panicked but clearly concerned. “This is an impulsive and reckless thing to do.”
“I apologize, ma’am, I really do, but I need to go with my instincts here,” I said. If Sigmund were here, he’d chide me for apologizing to someone who had no actual say in the business of the estate, but I felt bad for ignoring her warnings. Part of me, that stupid superstitious self that never really goes away, worried that now I would be cursed to lose, that hubris would find its way to me and take me down, as it did so many other men.
But these fears did not stop me from opening my mouth. “Gurlick? Go tell the Count I want a fight,” I said, feeling my lips move and hearing the words come out, as if I were merely a passive observer in the whole thing. “It’s a bet.”
Chapter 27
My butler took the news of this arrangement quite well. Sitting across from me at my desk, he merely nodded as I explained my clever wager. Once I had finished explaining the situation, he uncorked the brandy I had sent for and simply began drinking straight from the bottle. Perhaps not the best sign of the situation at hand.
Once he had taken a swig, the old man reclined back in his seat and shook his head. “Well, let it be known that you are not the kind of man to back down from risk. The polar opposite of your uncle.” He paused to guzzle down more booze.
“You may want to slow down on that,” I warned.
“Why? I am anticipating that soon I will be both homeless and destitute. And I don’t intend on experiencing any of those situations while sober,” Sigmund replied.
“Come now! Four lots for a single battle! We can build more than a tower! We could build a mana crystal mine! A workshop to improve our golems! Maybe even a second vineyard!”
“All for the low, low price of fighting a Count,” my butler reminded me. “This will not be a walk in the park. The man has both rank and power. The Kure County has a significant amount of resources. Friendly or not, he’ll be coming at you hard.”
“But you’re forgetting that whether this is a friendly fight or not, I still get the spoils of the battle. So that will limit his desire to send all of his forces,” I countered. “And furthermore, you’re forgetting that he wouldn’t dare come at me with everything he has, because it would look crass. Imagine the scandal that would ensue!”
Sigmund lowered the bottle. “I had not realized the social implications of such a thing…” he mused. “You’re right. If he came to a sporting affair against a lesser house with a supreme advantage, the social circles would have a field day with it.”
“He’d look like a bully at worse and a try-hard at best. Something no one cares for,” I said. “Therefore, we can assume he’ll limit his own efforts to my level. Elsewise, his reputation would take a hit. So, frankly, we have everything to gain in this battle. Mana, prestige, four lots and even some silver.”
“And losing the vineyard? There goes our main source of income…” Sigmund countered. “Anyone worth their salt would invade us immediately, to take our Fire Spice. Leaving us with no means of keeping our manor alive. It’s too risky.”
He was right. Even if I could defend the Manor from invaders, I couldn’t defend it from the Crown if we were unable to pay our property taxes. Not to mention everyone would have to work for food alone, something we eventually wouldn’t be able to afford.
“Should I declare the target position to be the Burning Barrows then?” I asked. “The maze there is well designed, I have plenty of golems in position and I can improve upon my designs with the additional silver from that loan.”
“Losing the mine would be a devastating blow…but we’d still be able to make payroll. If we move the spice we have stored to the manor, we’d have enough to survive for a year or so,” Sigmund said, running the calculation in his head. “We would survive, I think. But it would not be easy since that’s our leading edge. Ultimately, it’s your call. The Vineyard or the Fire Spice mines. What will it be?”
This question caused a little bit of the gambler’s high to wear off on me. The reality sank in hard and my stomach dropped. But I was in too deep to turn back. And besides, I needed those lots. “The Burning Barrows. We can’t afford to go bankrupt, but with the cost of repairs being so low, we can afford to lose the mines. Still, I don’t intend on losing anything.”
“Just like the Ethenians didn’t intend on losing the war,” Sigmund grumbled. “Intentions don’t mean a thing. Only results do.”
“Then I guess I had better get ready,” I said. “The clock is ticking.”
Sigmund stood, still holding the bottle, and bowed to me. “Very well. I shall make preparations in case we lose.”
And with that, he left me alone to my work. Rubbing my hands together, I went to open up the Grid so I could begin readying the Barrows for the fight of its life. But before I could do so, there came a rapping on my door.
“Yes?” I curtly said, trying to conceal my irritation. I was just about to get started and didn’t particularly appreciate the interruption.
“Sir?” Lily said, poking her head in, clearly sensing my vexation. All feelings of agitation vanishe
d at the sight of her.
“Oh, Lily! Please, come in,” I said. “I thought you were Sigmund, fussing at me about something.”
The head maid scuttled in, smiling pleasantly. “I have something for you,” she said, digging into the white pocket on her apron. She produced a waxy yellow envelope. “A missive from our spy! I didn’t open it yet, I’m too nervous.”
“Please, give it here,” I said, grabbing a letter opener. My heart leapt at this sight. Our very first secret message? What would it say? Was it a revelation that the Lady Efera knew we were keeping an eye on her? Or perhaps some sordid secret we could use to our advantage?
Lily handed the envelope to me and I hurried to open it up. Hands shaking, I unfolded the letter and began to read it aloud: My dear sister seems quite frustrated. She doesn’t have enough ingredients to make the mulled wine for a big party coming up. She’s afraid to ask her friendly neighbors and is instead trying to borrow some ingredients from her big cousin who seems reluctant. She won’t ask anyone else because she doesn’t want them to know how desperate she is to make the wine.
“A rudimentary code,” I said, putting the letter down. “Easy enough. The sister is Lady Efera, the big party is an upcoming invasion and the key ingredient to mulled wine is…”
“Spice!” Lily said. “Ah, of course!” She clapped her hands together. “This spy stuff is exciting, I have to admit.”
Seeing the woman beaming with glee caused a warmth within my heart to bloom. My Stars was Lily beautiful. I shook my head, trying to return to the task at hand. “So Efera can’t get any Fire Spice for an invasion coming up. She won’t ask her neighbors or me because it would betray her desperation. I wonder why.”
“Probably because the moment word gets out that Miss Efera is out of Fire Spice, all of her chickens will come home to roost at once. I can’t think of a single enemy who wouldn’t send an invading force to attack her territories. Win or lose, they’ll drain the woman’s remaining supply,” Lily said.
Gentleman's Wars: The Rules of Engagement: A Tower Defense LitRPG Series (The Great Game Book 1) Page 16