“Mop!”
Johnas III:III
Castle L’Herrim, City of Harlaheim
“The filet is to die for, truly, I must know your chef King Richmond. The food in Chazzrynn is not even in the same realm of this exquisite Harlaheim cuisine, and do not get me started on the wine. Alden have mercy!” Johnas Valhera laughed, flattering with every course served. He sat across from the young king, next to Prince Edians Del Barrato of Caberra, and beside Sir Phillip who was now the acting Seneschal of Harlaheim by promotion.
First the crab potstickers with honey walnut reductions and figs were served with a rose’ dergolian wine of a fresh three year vintage. Balric was asked to leave and take care of urgent business of holy spiritual importance during the first course. Sir Sebastian had been called upon by his squire moments later. As if nothing were amiss with an empty seat for the queen and the cardinal as well, Johnas continued his commentary on the noble dinner with those twenty that still dined.
Second was the summer salad of grapefruits, spinach, sea scallops, and soured cream and dill dressing. It was served with a fine ruby red of over twenty years from the northern jantheer district of Harlaheim. Johnas had stated that it was eloquent and refined beyond the southern pallats of his kingdom.
The festival had been lingering outside in the square where thousands of peasant folk and merchants danced and drank around the statue of Saint Tarumin. The noise still a murmur through the stained glass windows of the castle. It was new, golden, a pious man bowing to God Alden who had a feathered cross in his hands, handing it to the young priest who was now an Aldane patron saint. Over twelve feet tall, the statue symbolized so much to the people of Harlaheim, yet seemingly little to the nobility. Johnas, Richmond, and the others had all retired to the grand dining hall of L’Herrim only a few minutes after the unveiling. They watched from three stories above, waving now and then through the glass and pacing of posted guards on the balcony.
“I am done, put a fork in my royal ribs. That was absolutely divine, Richmond. That fifty five year hedronet caville was the best red I have ever let touch my tongue. Tell me you do not have dessert?” Johnas waited, Balric and Ariili should have been back a course past. The dirty deed with Lord Poullan and Lord D’Mirillesoun should have but two cold corpses to show by now, he thought wickedly.
“I do, actually. But, let us wait for the Cardinal, your Bishop, and my Seneschal, shall we?” Richmond ate delicately, slowly enjoying the tender beef with his fine wine. He was suspicious as Johnas seemed to be distracting from the missing guests, trying to keep conversation alive. He wondered if he was aware that Sebastian and he had been speaking in private.
“Very well, agreed, tis your home and I am but your guest and---“
“You are, and you are wonderful at pointing the obvious. Thank you, Prince of Valhirst.” Richmond nodded to his noble guests, all but Johnas Valhera.
“That could have been a sleight, was that a sleight m’lady?” Johnas looked to a rather fat noblewoman across the table with his query, smile showing no insult taken. A few giggles from gathered nobles let out.
“One would think so, if one paused their mouth and allowed their ears to hear. Have some more wine, I insist.”
“Oh, well thank you indeed. How very kind, your majesty. May I offer some to the rest of the table, on your generous behalf?” Johnas stood, not waiting for an answer, and snapped his fingers. The four young servants, three men and one women, brought three bottles each and began to open them.
“I do not believe, correct me if I am mistaken, that I had said yay or nay to your question as of yet.” Richmond smiled, seeing his guests all tensing as they finished their main course. He had not seen his servants ever react so quickly to another noble, in fact he did not recognize the four with the wine at all. He nodded his head twice to one he did know, alerting him to be ready.
“I do sincerely apologize King Richmond, but I feel that it is…ahhh, Bishop Balric, Cardinal, Seneschal, fine of you to rejoin the dinner. Would the king kindly allow them to be seated once more?” Johnas bowed deeply to both the two men and his doppelganger in disguise, then to the king of Harlaheim. Ariili, appearing as the Cardinal, went to a chair beyond the dining hall before anyone answered, he seemed distraught.
“By all means, of course. The antics, pardon, the service of Prince Valhera should not be missed. We should invite the whole of the city in fact, and you could pour them all wine. Perhaps when next you visit.” Richmond turned his head, picking up conversation with his Lord Treasurer at the table. The ice broke, nobles chatted quickly as to avoid the annoying prince of Chazzrynn and the quips between he and the king.
“Is it done, both on a permanent journey?” Johnas whispered to the black clad and priestly looking Balric. He poured wine to whomever was next to him, without even so much as a glance.
“It is, you filth of hell, it is. But, I was followed.” Balric put his hand over his goatee, hiding his mouth and speaking with a fake smile. He could not look at Johnas. He had just killed two more noble men, his saber in their backs and shortblade across their throats in their own homes. The necklace would not allow him to stop, nor scream for help, nor even speak. He had to do it, he was helpless.
“Sir Sebastian?”
“No, I lost him easily after but a few city blocks.”
“A woman then, northern Kivanite with olive skin and red hair dressed in green robes? Large sword at her side?”
“Yes. How could you know that?” Balric was surprised, he had described her perfectly. He closed his mind, hoping Johnas would not know that they had spoken on his recent return trip.
“She was watching me from the crowd when we arrived, assassin most likely. Northern Altestan has ties with the blended Agarians that still hold lands in Kivanis. She looks the background, is interested in me, and obviously there are those in the northern empires that hold me responsible for that incident with the Headhunter warship that sank, courtesy of the fugitves with the daughter of Lazlette. If they sent an Altestani with a blade, he would stick out here and be easily marked, so they hired her. Very simple actually, dear Balric.” Johnas sat, nodded for more wine, raised his goblet, and motioned for the servant to pour some for his Bishop as well.
“I hope her blade strikes true and I get to watch you die.” Balric smiled, toasted his glass to Johnas, and drank.
“Now now, what sort of toast is that? You have but two more men to kill, and then it is over. Well, for you that is. You should feel imminent relief coming your way. I will handle the killer lady from Kivanis. You stay on task.” The patriarch of the White Spider chuckled as he whispered.
“I will not kill any more men, I am done. Five is enough, take what you need and release me.” Balric tried to reach for his blades, nothing, he could not act against Johnas.
“No choice, sorry. Prince Edians Del Barrato is staying at La Trillmoure, the temple districts’ finest inn. Take him in the alley behind it when he approaches, kill him and return. Caberra will insist on justice after their daughter, and now their son, have perished or gone missing while in care of Harlaheim. Then, just Richmond remains. Now go.” Johnas Valhera smiled and stood as Balric did.
“Your grace, the Bishop is retiring for the evening. He is not used to travel, and I am afraid the trip to your impressive kingdom has exhausted his sacred spirit. May he be excused?”
“Of course, my servants will show him to his room.”
“Not necessary, your highness. They already have, I thank you for your hospitality.” Balric felt as though he had to speak aloud in any defense of Johnas or his plans and orders. It came over him like a force of habit he knew not existed. The necklace, via the controlling platinum ring Johnas Valhera wore, had sway he could not contend with. Only his thoughts and whispers could release his anger now.
“Good night Bishop D’Vrelle.” Richmond paid no mind, enjoying the dinner and watching the Prince of Valhirst cautiously.
Throughout the dessert of hot steamed
chocolate puddings with crème’ de orange and fresh raspberries, nobles left and said their good evenings to their king, the Caberran Prince and the Chazzrynn Prince. The old Cardinal had retired to a chair in the corner, apparently dozed off some time ago. Sir Phillip nodded every so often to Johnas, who nodded back. Sir Sebastian watched every motion, it was obvious he was nervous and troubled about many things, yet said nothing.
“It is my time, good king, I must speak with you tomorrow on more serious matters. Please allow time for you and I alone, if you would be so kind. I bid you good evening.” The Caberran Prince bowed, his accent deep and elegant, yet his dark brown eyes stated he meant not to waste another day before discussing the details of Rosana, his missing sister. He had been told she was killed by a mob in the recent revolts, then he was told she was found dead in Saint Erinsburg having been butchered by Lord Cristoff’s men. He had heard she escaped with some treasonous knights by other informants he had here. Nothing added up, but it would tomorrow.
“Of course, Prince Edians, of course. You have my entire morning if need be.” Richmond smiled, yet nodded that he knew well what they would be talking about.
“Prince Johnas, it has been an experience to dine with you. I am sure we will speak tomorrow as well, no?”
“Possibly, I cannot be for sure though. Either way, enjoy your rest and have pleasant walk to your suite.” Johnas smiled, stood and embraced him in Caberran custom.
Sir Sebastian stood as well, bowing to the few remaining nobility. “I retire as well, and I believe your suite is on route with my new keep. As newly appointed Lord Knight Errant, after the terrible tragedy with Lady Florin and the guillotine, I am still becoming accustomed to my new directions. May I escort you, Prince Edians?” Sebastian looked right at Johnas as he spoke, then nodded to his king.
Johnas saw it, he knew the game. He had not expected them to be so ready his first night here, but they had found out. They knew who he was, but they did not have any idea whose web they played in, nor how many and where his spiders were hidden.
“Splendid idea, streets here are most dangerous after such revolts so recent, I am certain of it. Sir Phillip, should you not join them? Safety in numbers, I am told.” The Prince of Valhirst nodded to Phillip, then to Sebastian, then the king.
“I agree, safety in numbers indeed.” Sir Phillip followed the Prince of Caberra and Sir Sebastian out of Castle L’Herrim.
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I told you, I have no control over it, over anything I do.
“I can read your thoughts, the wind lets me hear the things you think. Just keep speaking to yourself as your mind is the only thing free right now.” Angeline of Charity kept pace with the dark robed man. Her senses had guided her to him as he left L’herrim once more, this time she had brought help.
I am going to the temple district, La Trillmoure Inn, and I will be waiting to kill the Prince of Caberra. Johnas knows of you, he thinks you an assassin hired by Altestan. You have to stop me, whoever you are, or kill me before more are dead. Balric kept walking, hands on his saber and shorblade beneath his priestly vestments. The night was muggy, fog was creeping into the sidestreets as the green moon cascaded its eerie glow to the old stone city.
“I am Angeline of the Knights Soujan and I am not going to kill you, Balric. I have a plan to get that necklace off of you, but the ring first, from the Prince of Valhirst that controls you. When you turn the corner, do not fight what happens, remain calm. I will return soon.” She turned down an alleyway and waited in the Gimmor lit shadows.
Excellent. I am now going to kill a Caberran Prince, and the red haired lady that can read my mind disappears. This is hopeless. Balric thought aloud in his head, now unable to see Angeline.
I can still hear you, Balric. I can speak to you this way, just keep breathing and letting the wind pass in and out of you. Angeline projected her mind to his through the winds. She thought hard to the sewers, the balconies of old gray stones and spires, and the dark sky itself for assistance.
His steps turned down unlit cobblestone, onto Gil’Ourille Street, near his destination. The sahdows parted, moved, shifted quickly and he drew his blades.
Flash
Balric stifled a scream, he was blinded by bright light that came and went with a few strange words from the unseen. His body twisted, the necklace urging him ahead to fight, yet some force was restraining him. He fought until he was on his knees and dripping with sweat. His palms caught his fall, the blades meant for Prince Edians fell to the street, and he just shook and trembled. It took every shaking muscle to look up as his vision returned. Blurry, hazy, yet he could make out a man. Gray hair and beard of white, black and white robes and sashes, and he carried a black metal staff that was aglow with blue energies. His hand was pointing at Balric, forcing him down to the ground, but a smile of genuine care was upon his face.
“Who are you, old…man..?” It was difficult to speak, he was grunting in effort to get his swords and make it to the inn to kill as he had been ordered.
“I am Kalzarius, friend to Angeline and her knights, foe to Richmond and his. I am going to hold you here, for a bit. It will not be pleasant, and for that I hope you accept my apology well in advance.” The master of the arcane was using a fair degree of his concentration to hold this man in place. He surmised another master of the arts must have made the necklace, for it was strong indeed to tax him so.
“The Kalzarius?”
“I hear that often, yes, the one and only as far as I know. And you are Bishop Balric D’Vrelle, so I am told. Shame we could not meet under better circumstances.”
“I am no bishop, no priest either. I am a general in the secret order of the Broken Wing of the Crossguard Legion, an assassin for the church of Alden. I only tell you now because in moments, one of us will die.” This famous man, who he would have loved to meet otherwise, was stopping him from his orders. The necklace now forced him to see Kalzarius as an enemy, one that he must also kill. His hands struggled for his blades as the arcane forces held him down.
“Who crafted…this enslaving bit of jewelry for you, Balric? It is indeed…testing my strengths here and now. I must know.”
“A wretch of a half dead wizard…named…Salah Cam. He works for Johnas Valhera and the …White Spider…sort of…it is…well, complicated.”
“And if we were to remove this necklace? What then, assassin?”
“I would stop Prince Johnas from killing the King of Harlaheim and claiming this kingdom as his own.” Balric was on one knee now, his body wracked with pain, yet his hand still reached for the saber.
“Good, then I will trust dear Angeline and not end you right here. We have company.” Kalzarius looked to the street from his view from the alley. Two men walked, speaking quietly and moving at a quick pace toward him, their hands on their blade hilts. Behind them six others darted through shadows, moving closer by the moment..
“I have company, you mean. For you are a dead man!” Balric got to his feet, saber and shortblade in his hands, robes rippling with the arcane forces against him. Inch by inch, he backed Kalzarius down the alley.
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The fog lifted her over the wall and onto the balcony. Winds whipped the cloaks of guards in front of their helmed faces. Torches snuffed out from the sudden gale and clouds passed overhead to block the light of the green moon. Angeline thanked the weather in silent prayer, and slid over the rail outside the dining hall. She listened through the glass, waiting for her moment, watching from a pressed position against the outer wall of L’Herrim Castle. The voices were muffled, she focused on her blade Charity asking for better hearing, and it was given with a faint feeling of love and appreciation.
“I will sign only if the Legion is under my command, not yours Cardinal. This trade route discussion with Caberra and Chazzrynn needs no papers. Rebuilding this kingdom, with your assistance of course, seems more of a stranglehold than an agreement. Let us rectify that.” Richmond looked
the mess of documents over, not at all happy with what was proposed.
“Yes, yes. But sign and we will make the adjustments. I assure you, I am the Cardinal of the Aldane. Our bishops need to see you agree with their help, they need reassurances as well, your majesty. Yes, yes.” Arilli was doing well he assumed to himself, appearing old and insistently wise. He touched the king’s hand gently, smiling.
“Your majesty, these papers are just that, easily burned or altered if need be, just sign and---“ Johnas was cut off, his smile vanishing.
“Valhera, your little display at dinner is rather fresh on my mind, so do not attempt to placate me with tricks and fine words. I know your reputation well enough.”
“I am hurt, deeply, Richmond. I was playing to the crowd, as you well know. Think nothing of it. If they feel you and I are friends, they will see a coup for a coup. If they see us as rivals, all the better for them to feel they have a side and say in your kingdom. I am making enemies here, to leave you with friends when I go back home. Think ahead, if you would.” Johnas thought he had him, twisting and snaking with every chance he was offered. He nodded to his deadliest men and woman, disguised as servants here, and they went to change.
“I will sign this one only, and that is final. The Crossguard Legion will remain in force at the capital, under the guidance of the church and nobility, until peace, safe trade, and prosperity are returned to a level that satisfies both King and the Aldane. There, the rest can burn.” Richmond the Second signed the single parchment knowing full well he would have what he needed as far as military strength with the army of Alden here. He could write letters as to dismissing them when he had accomplished what he needed.
His eyes opened wide as he set the feathered quill down, the Cardinal waved his hands over the parchments and the same signature began to write on each and every one, ink from thin air, perfect duplicates. He looked up from the table, staring at the high priest of the church of Alden in shock, and watched his form, face, and clothing shift and turn into a duplicate of himself. Richmond heard the laughter from Johnas, saw the movements of those unknown servants from behind tapestries, and watched as the Prince of Valhirst drew a shining wavy kris blade.
The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains Page 31