The Bearer of Secrets (Dark Legacy)

by Kyle Belote

  What’s a minor noble lord doing all the way out here? Xenomene wondered.

  When it came to houses and nobility, the distinction was in the way they introduced themselves. Every Krey was taught such etiquette in case any dignitaries visited from Ralloc, which was more often than they admitted. John was of a minor noble family, hence his proclamation ‘John of the Gyles House.’ Had he been of a noble family, he would have introduced himself as ‘John of House Gyles.’

  “Arysto,” Raven said with a bow of his head.

  “I am not here as an Arysto,” John assured him, “but as John Gyles, Grand Master Wizard of Portals.” Confusion blossomed on the faces of the Krey. Even the A’uri were unsure of how to react. “I have been charged by Consul Meristal Raviils, Lady of the Kothlere Council, Lord of Ralloc Domain, Commander of the Grand Royal Army, to find you and open a portal for you to Cape Gythmel.” Silence descended upon the gathering. The wizards’ eyes darted between each Krey, shifting uneasily on their feet, waiting for any sign up an impending attack. John took the silence as a sign of mistrust. “I assure you, my intentions are pure. A lot has changed.”

  Xenomene was the first to shatter the brittle silence.

  “Shades of the Underworld, what the fuck has happened in Ralloc?”

  ***

  Chapter 63 : Meristal

  “Why is it every time I wake up and come in here, there is another big pile of shit that I have to clean up?” Meristal asked the Council. She noticed a few withering glances from Kayis’ supporters, but they remained tight-lipped. They spoke little and agreed even less. Meristal also caught the other glances from the members of the Kothlere Council, looks of embarrassment or apprehension. “What else do I need to know about? Let’s get it all out today, because I swear by the gods, if I come in here tomorrow and I find more stuff to clean up, political heads are going to roll.”

  Poplu smirked and spoke up, “Which gods?”

  “Does it matter?” Meristal snapped back, losing her calm composure for a brief flash. “Dwaven, troll, vampire, wizard, whichever gods are listening. By all of them, I don’t care!” She sighed with frustration. “Who is in charge of our treasury?”

  Kellis spoke, “Many offices are in charge of our finances. The Office of Legal Tender, the Office of Tax, the Office of Imports and Exports, the office of Expenditure, the Office of Acquisitions, the Office of Foreign Currency and Trade, the office of–”

  “You’ve made your point,” Meristal growled. She massaged her temples as Poplu and Capraro smirked at each other. “Very well. Bring me the person in charge of each office.”

  “Now?” Lagelm inquired.

  “Yes, now! I don’t care what they are doing. If they are in meetings, interrupt them, if they are enjoying a day off, send a herald with an escort of guards. In fact, send each with a team of guards, so they know I mean business. The only exceptions I will make is if they are sick, their wife is giving birth, or if they are dead!” The heralds below the Council’s dais stared at her for a moment, unsure if she was serious or not. The scribes even paused and attended expectantly.

  “Go!”

  Pandemonium erupted as each herald hurried to their assigned tasks. When the bluster faded, Meristal looked at each Council member.

  “What else needs to be brought to my attention?”

  Sedrus harrumphed before starting. “The channel being dug from the Golden City to Ralloc. Construction by the Golden City is well underway.”

  “Is it too late to stop it?” Meristal offered.

  “Yes, construction began a score of years ago.”

  “How much does it cost us?”

  “The amount is unknown, the Office of Labor hold the details to that,” Sedrus supplied.

  Meristal lifted her head up and scanned below for a messenger. Finding none, she glanced down the end of the Council’s bench at Capraro, one of the former Consul’s supporters. “Bring me the person in charge of the office of Labor.”

  He balked at her. “You can’t be serious?” he laughed. Meristal didn’t say anything; she just let her amethyst gaze pierce him until he felt the urge to flee her scrutiny. She moved on once he vacated the chambers.

  “Next?”

  “There is the increase in costs for warhorses for officers in the Grand Royal Army,” Daylynn pointed out. When Meristal first took this job, each day she loathed going to work because she would have to see Daylynn Reese, however, she quickly found that Daylynn was one of her strongest advocates. It was a welcomed shock, and while Meristal was silently grateful, she still despised her. The feud between the two women would continue unto the grave, perhaps even after.

  “What cost increase? Do the horses talk now? Make dinner?”

  “An Epoch ago we agreed to order less as a means to save money. But now with a war starting, our need has increased again, but the warhorse breeders demand time and a half for their stock.”

  “Correct me if I am wrong, but aren’t the warhorses rather expensive?” Meristal groaned.

  “Yes, the average cost is ten thousand scepters. Currently, the breeders are asking for fifteen.”

  Meristal snorted. “Not a chance, I will give them two ingots, twelve thousand scepters, but no more. At which case, it was already ridiculous before, and now it is more so. Shades, most people don’t even make that much in a year!”

  “The Army’s upper echelon of officers do,” Kellis noted.

  “Thank you for reminding me,” she replied curtly. “What else?”

  “You intend to swell our Army ranks by an additional one hundred thousand. The money we have allotted for this year’s tax collection is spent. We are broke,” Sedrus declared.

  “Broke? Last time I checked, our treasury is full of gold. Are you telling me if I go down to the vaults, right now, that it’s all gone?”

  “No,” Lagelm spoke up. “That is our reserve.”

  “Reserve? Jackal and Shades! We could go without collecting tax for an Age and barely put a dent into it.” the Consul surmised.

  “Perhaps, but I think you exaggerate, Consul,” Sedrus cautioned.

  “Okay, spit it out all at once. What else do we need to work on?”

  “Increase in mining, product yield for harvest, taxes, money for more ships to be built and the felled timber for its construction, lumberjacks, ship builders, haulers…” Sedrus blurted.

  Kellis picked up where he stopped. “There are the demands for increased wages, better living accommodations, better food and cost of living expenses, and relocation allocation for all the canal workers either in the Golden City or en route.”

  “The cost of the war, increased productions, the need for armor and weapons, leather, gear, clothing, and wagons to haul supplies and goods to Cape Gythmel,” Lagelm included.

  “And that’s without touching the woes of Ralloc,” Daylynn chimed in.

  “How?” Meristal queried, letting her forehead rest on her desk.

  “How what?” Poplu interrupted, the last of Kayis’ supporters.

  “How could you let it get this bad? Were you guys not paying attention at all or was Kayis hiding all this from you?”

  Kellis coughed. “Public opinion and image mattered more to him. He did make the masses happy, and they loved him, regardless of what he failed to do as the Consul.”

  “Does the general populace not know about these problems?” Meristal probed, afraid of what she might learn.

  “Oh, they knew, they just blamed all the offices for dragging their feet. It was never Kayis’ fault,” Daylynn admitted. “He was good about letting others take the fall, as long as he didn’t go down with them.”

  Just then, the doors to the chambers burst open as guards ushered in the heads of offices that Meristal had requested. Dirty sandals, muddy boots, bare feet, and metal boots of the guards traipsed over the phthalo carpet leaving stains of dirty water, mud, and various specimens of dirt and fecal matter within. Meristal looked up as they filed into the room. Forty men and women stoo
d below the dais.

  “Is this all?” she commented.

  A herald stepped forward. “These are for the offices you asked for.”

  “Are you telling me there are others that are involved with our treasury?”

  “Yes,” Kellis spoke up.

  “Bring them; I’ll wait.”

  ***

  Chapter 64 : Cape Gythmel

  Just as Grand Master Wizard John Gyles promised, the Krey and A’uri arrived at Cape Gythmel unmolested. The Black Tide emerged from the portal and walked right into a dilapidated village. Thick chunks of mud and manure served as the main road, pot holes filled with vile, stagnant water filled the air with the scent of mold and decay. Half-collapsed structures remained standing–or rather leaning–in their current state of disrepair. Loose farm animals milled about, defecating in the road, on the sidewalks of stores, or wherever else they felt like releasing their bowels. The outer wall of the crumbling, abandoned castle stopped at chest height, a poor excuse for defense or scenery. The farmers tilling the fields and planting crops stopped to watch the procession.

  “This place is even shitter than I imagined!” Bitcher interrupted the silence.

  “Shut it,” Xeno muttered.

  “I hope they have food, I’m hungry,” Drumstick complained.

  “They better have ale or wine or rum, whatever passes for alcohol in these parts!” Keg stated.

  “We’re not here to eat and drink, but to work,” Raven pointed out. He glanced around, taking in the few scant buildings that seemed operational and assessed the land. To the west was a densely wooded area and to the north and east was farm land. Towards the southeast lay a rock quarry. “We’ll make camp to the west, but not directly in front of the woods, we need that clear for when we fell them.” Raven called to the largest member of the squad, “Tiny, take charge of setting up camp while I am gone to see about the supplies. Mark out our area for tents. Make sure it is well away from the village, but not too far to where we can’t respond if something arises. Patch, help him. Mind,” he said to the A’uri, “you’re coming with me, as is Xeno.”

  Tiny trudged away, and the rest of the squad fell into step. Raven, Xeno, and the Mind turned towards the town, entering the perimeter of buildings. A tumbleweed blew across the street and the Mind laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Xenomene inquired, missing the humor.

  “I always thought tumbleweeds were a jape. I never knew they were real,” he explained.

  “Yeah,” Xenomene replied drily, “it was a first for me, too.”

  “Quiet,” Raven chided them.

  They reached the general goods store without incident except a stray gust of wind. When they breached the threshold, the hiss of a sword clearing its scabbard greeted them. The hands of the Krey went for their steel, but the Mind was already in control, cooling their bloodlust. Raven let go of his hilt first and let it hang at his waist while Xeno’s knuckles grew white before she, too, released her sword.

  “I know who you are!” barked the man holding the naked steel. “You’re that cursed Black Tide! It’s illegal for you to be here!”

  “Indeed, sire, you are correct; however, we are on orders from Ralloc,” the Mind spoke calmly. “If you will allow me, I shall reach into my pack and pull out our Royal Edict with adorning seals. You shall find everything in order, I assure you.” He smiled.

  “Nothing crafty, now,” said the owner. With care, he slid around the counter and into the light. He was an old man. His back stooped by Ages of hard work. Dirty spectacles rested on his nose and sweat poured freely from his sallow skin. His head was devoid of hair, and a bushy mustache rested on his upper lip. As he approached, Xenomene and Raven held their hands away from their swords and backed away. Even with a slight hunch, the man was startling tall.

  The Mind produced the Royal Edict for the elder. Once in his hands, he retreated behind his counter. Laying the sword on the counter top, he cracked the seal and unrolled the scroll, taking a few moments to inspect it. Xeno caught the Mind’s eye, giving him a silent prod. He nodded and leisurely walked forward. The man, transfixed by the seals inside the vellum with ribbons accompanied by the offices of their executive order, looked up.

  “Would you like for me to read it to you?” the Mind offered. The old man scowled at him, and the Mind stopped his forward progress before sighing. He laid the scroll down.

  “No,” he said. “I may not be able to read well, but I do know the Consul’s seal. What does it say, exactly?”

  “Paraphrased, it states that you are to help us with all materials that we require. In compensation for your assistance, you will be substantially rewarded with monetary gain.” The old man moved his lips as the Mind spoke, sounding out his cultured words.

  “What he means,” Xeno spoke softly without sarcasm, “you give us supplies, and you can determine a fair and honest price, and Ralloc will pay it.”

  Recognition dawned in his eyes. “Aye, I can do that. What do you need?” The Mind handed him a list and the old man looked it over, grunting every once in a while. “I can fill this, but I will have to put in a requisition for resupply, it will be a while before it gets here. It comes from Dlad City.”

  “That will not be an issue, good sire,” the Mind spoke smoothly. “We will be here for some time and will routinely place orders with you. Perhaps we could start a tab with you keeping a tally of all the goods we procure and the Royal Treasury will reimburse you.”

  “A tab, eh? I will need a down payment.” The Mind laid an ingot on the counter, the royal seal pressed into the gold, promising authenticity. All ingots were stamped from the bank they originated from, but an ingot from the Treasury retained the Kothlere sigil. The owner’s eyes widen, and a smile crept across his face. “I think we can do business.”

  “Good,” Raven spoke up for the first time, “I am Raven, the Do-don of my squad. This lovely lady is my second in command, Xenomene. This mage is called Mind. I assure you, sire, that we will be the only three to place orders or come into your shop. I have a request to make of you, sire, if you will permit me.”

  “Sure, speak.”

  “When we come, please do not draw a weapon. To do so would cause … a dire situation.”

  The old man nodded his understanding. “I think I can do that. I shall inform my other two workers as well.”

  Raven stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. “A pleasure doing business with you …?”

  “Lem,” he supplied. “Lem of House Yeates.”

  Shock rolled over the mage and the Krey.

  “Arysto?” Xenomene’s eyes went wide.

  “Lord,” Raven corrected.

  “Lord Yeates,” the Mind breathed. “The Lord Yeates? A veteran of the Wizard’s War?”

  “All are correct, but please, Lem will do.”

  “But …” Xenomene stuttered. “ … if you are a Lord, then you know how to read,” she concluded.

  “Oh, aye, I can read,” Lem nodded, smiling. “My calligraphy reading skills are a bit rusty, but I can read fine just the same.”

  “It was a test,” the Mind said, approving. Lem’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

  “Don’t tell the others of your squad,” he chuckled.

  Lem promised to fill their order in a few hours with the help of his grandsons and indicated that he deliver it to their camp instead of the Krey making several trips. As they left, Xeno was the first to speak.

  “Who is Lord Yeates?” she asked.

  “Xeno,” the Mind sighed, “you just met a living legend. One of the last. I will tell you the tale some time.”

  ***

  Chapter 65 : The War Council

  Meristal didn’t feel much like her titles today. Instead, she felt like a house maid. In truth, when she ascended to the highest office, she became Lady of the Kothlere Council, Consul of Ralloc Domain, Commander of the Grand Royal Army. Today, however, it was closer to Mother of Dirty Breeches, Sufferer of Squabbling Babies, Mass Murder
er of the Kothlere Council’s dreams. The War Council required her attention this morning, and if they had it their way, she’d be with them for the rest of the week. With her practiced lawyer’s face, she schooled her aristocratic features, took a deep breath, and entered the chambers.

  “Madam Consul,” Master Jynerul Tyku greeted. All the jyneruls lurched to their feet as Meristal swept into the room with three other individuals in tow. Her dark purple robes with gold embroidery swirled about her. The five highest officers remained standing as she took her chair; her small entourage spied chairs and seated themselves with haste at the far end of the table.

  “Be seated, good sires,” Meristal bade them.

  Discussing the swelling of their ranks and the needs of the war machine were the two main topics up for discussion. War costs money and men, and the jyneruls expected to have both; due to the number of offices that pawed the Treasury, she created three billets filled by three individuals, and then cut off all access to the Treasury. It didn’t make her the most popular Consul to date, but popularity would not win a war or keep them from going bankrupt.

  Her first appointment had come collectively from the offices of imports and exports. She had many to choose from, including that of foreign trade and local commerce, she selected the person who held the post or similar position the longest and who would encourage a grander view of Ermaeyth as a whole. Finding the right person for the job rather than choosing the person most senior did not win her any favors either. In the case of this post, she named Master Wizard Roxie of the Vernetti House. The choice seemed straight forward enough for Meristal, but it caused backlash among the council.

  Most objected to her age and her low rank. The second most notable reason came by way of her minor nobility. The politicians were divided on the issue, some insisting such a billet should fall to the noble houses. While not unheard of for a minor noble to receive the honor of a posting higher than their status, they were an uncommon occurrence and each time, the level of promotion came nowhere near the same lurch in elevated status as Meristal bestowed. Thus, Roxie became the Master of Commerce.