The Burning Crown (Stone Blade Book 4)

by James Matt Cox

  "I was hoping for the location of the secret megafac," said Kidwell, "With Charlie here we shouldn't have a problem with that."

  "I concur," said Ionoski, "Agent Ferrel. Since we seem to be done here, am I correct in assuming that you wish to travel to Barinhall?"

  "As quickly as possible," said Ferrel.

  "Will the six of you be able to handle things there while I clean up the mess here?"

  "Yes sir!"

  Chapter 20. Family Old and New

  Reginald Laird Fyrelm sat with an anguished heart and pored over the newscasts, hoping for some word of his son. He knew from the official 'casts that Gunter had arrived on Astraboria, and from later ones that Fadding and his lackeys had as well. They all made a monumental narrative of Gunter's exile, the censure that started it and his idiocy at returning, but nothing more. It pained Reginald to see his son slandered so.

  Then, just when he hoped, and feared, to learn more: nothing. According to the newscasts, the Elder Guards had interdicted LINC communications from or to Astraboria. That only happened during times of great upheaval or chaos, never recently and only once in Reginald's childhood memories.

  He knew in his heart that Fadding was responsible. He also knew that Varl had set up House Brightcrown to bear the brunt of some monumental catastrophe of Crown-spanning proportion. None of the rumors yet had any verifiable fact to them, but the fact that only House Edders and House McReely now stood with Brightcrown spoke enough.

  With the alliances formed between the other Great Houses and the lesser Houses formerly associated with Brightcrown, nothing short of a miracle could stave off economic repercussion and consequence. It even occurred to Reginald, though he did not share the thought, that the League itself might have a hand in matters.

  That set his resolve! Regardless of what happened now, Reginald Laird Fyrelm determined that he would issue blood challenge against the entirety of House Varl and its Laird in particular. He would execute it personally on the field of honor, and if House Varl lacked that then Brightcrown had ample and to spare. Not a single Brightcrown in all the Crown Worlds would dispute it nor would any hesitate to act!

  Years of care and worry about maintaining and defending the Great and Noble House of Brightcrown dropped off his shoulders with that simple thought. By stars and seas, and by the Crown that shone over them, if his House this day fell to nothing then he, Reginald Laird Fyrelm, would rid both Crown and League of a festering, pestilent monster choking on the slaver of its own greed!

  "My Laird Brightcrown," said Osbury, "Word has come that Laird Fadding has arrived. It is said he came aboard a League vessel along with toadies from Binkor-Sud and Snughblak."

  "Time to prepare, then."

  Fyrelm stood patiently as Osbury helped attire him properly. He could have done so himself, easily, but Osbury would fret and Fyrelm didn't have the heart to deny him what might be his last act of loyalty to his Laird.

  "Thank you, Osbury. You have been an honor and a blessing to my life."

  "Thank you, my Laird Fyrelm! Once this dreadful matter is settled and many more years have passed, perhaps we shall sit together and drink wine and let the youngsters make sense of the world. For Crown and King, and Halm's Oath to them all, Laird Brightcrown! Sing to your House and kin and let all who oppose you tremble in fear!"

  ***

  The Stercoreum Senate Hall had changed greatly over the many years since its construction, but it changed little. The Crown's craftsmen preserved its original architecture with loving accuracy. Armor-hardened and carefully crafted and textured zrock now stood in place of the original stone and the sconces on the walls now held modern, bright lights instead of flickering flames. Datajacks, comm units and holocasters sat in unobtrusive niches and corners. Modern conveniences notwithstanding, Fyrelm never failed to feel the weight and waves of Crown history every time he walked within its halls.

  Reporters for thrice a dozen news networks, Crown and otherwise, lined the stairway leading into the building. Elder Guards and Crown Knights, all clad in their formal finest, worked to keep the crowd from swarming the Lairds and their entourages.

  With each step he climbed Fyrelm felt lighter and stronger. This was his hall and his history! Let Varl try what it might, Brightcrowns would survive it and triumph! For all that House Varl claimed the blood of Hermann Rene, it ran through his veins as well and after this day neither Varl nor any other on any of the Crown worlds would forget it!

  A score or Brightcrown knights waited in the atrium. Fyrelm recognized some from his father's time and others he'd dubbed himself. As one they snapped to attention and saluted, never mind that they stood scattered in twos and threes around the room. Each wore his or her colors proudly and even the most jaded Varl would find no fault with them. No, thought Fyrelm, the Great and Noble House of Brightcrown would not fall or fail this day!

  One of the larger groups parted and Gaius Dulucius Laird Gladius approached. Did Fyrelm not know better he'd swear the man appeared rushed.

  "Hail and well met to you, Laird Brightcrown," said Dulucius, "It is a pleasure to see you this day. Would that the tidings were less grave."

  "You as well, Laird Gladius. Gaius, my old friend, for good tidings or ill, it is always a blessing under the Crown to see you!"

  Dulucius looked about the two of them and lowered his voice. Wordlessly, eight Brightcrown knights stepped to them and formed a rough circle. The Laird of House Gladius wanted privacy with Fyrelm and they would ensure he had it!

  "Peace, Reginald. I do not know what fey humor is upon you but hold it close! I have heard many strange things from many strange sources. I cannot verify the truth of them so I'll not repeat them, but pray stay your temper and do not give yourself over to haste. Young Ronald... Pardon! King Hartwig cloistered his chambers this morning, even before we had our tea. The Elder Guard is restive and even the League soldiers show their nerves. I do not know what this portends but calm words and cool heads must prevail this day."

  Fyrelm smiled. "Thank you, Gaius. I swear to you that I shall not dishonor King nor Crown nor the Oaths I swore for them. Of a certainty, Hose Varl will try to lay low the House of Brightcrown, but neither it nor its allies know the depth and breadth of Brightcrown mettle. This day it will prove stronger than any would hope and its heart will beat forward, regardless of its Laird's fate."

  "Ever and always the way of Brightcrown," smiled Dulucius, "Honor and steel and heart inseparable. And ever why House Gladius will stand beside. I just implore you... Take heart, Reginald. The day is not near done and my heart tells me many things will happen over its course."

  "Steadfast vigilance, ever faithful, the sword and shield that guard the Crown," replied Fyrelm, "Such is House Gladius. We shall stand together, old friend, and weather this storm and more to come!"

  ***

  Fyrelm stood before the entrance and waited. He heard the thump of the herald's staff as he announced House Brightcrown, the doors opened and he walked calmly through them. House Edders and House McReely cheered his entrance, as did one or two others, but most remained silent. He smiled at Luther Laird Edders and Savn Laird McReely as he walked toward his seat. In the middle of the chamber, stark against the bright floor, was the stain left on the floor by Appius Livius Quadratus when he swore Halm's Oath to the peoples of the Crown. The original blood had long since vanished into time but expert artisans restored it as needed, carefully preserving its shape and color with durable pigments cast deep into the stone. Fyrelm paused before it for a moment of honor, then walked around it and took his seat.

  "Hail and welcome, Laird Brightcrown," said King Hartwig, "We are pleased you are here, and now we only await the arrival of Laird Varl."

  As Fyrelm bowed and sat, he noticed an extra pair of chairs beside the King. Strange. More, Prince Orson, Royce Sir Hallings sat in the third seat down, two removed from his father. Even stranger. Honor done, Fyrelm sat and settled himself. His terminal sat in its usual place, jacked in but not powered up
. Fyrelm hid a smile as he saw what else lay out of sight: a fine wooden box that contained a pair of fine, hand-sewn silken gloves and beneath it the ancient sword of House Brightcrown. Either Osbury or one of Brightcrown's knights had put them there. They knew! Though he rarely wore his House's blade, several others did so routinely. Fyrelm knew Fadding would have his, rumor said the Varl Laird event took his blade to his bedchambers!

  After a few minutes the herald stepped forward and pounded the floor three times.

  "Lairds and Ladies of the Hausmoot, please to welcome Josef Marcel Carter Fadding Laird Varl."

  The entrance opened and half a moment later most of the gathered Lairds and Ladies gasped and began whispering. Laird Fadding, not dressed formally or finely at all, entered between a pair of League Marines, his hands and feet shackled. Behind him came a pair of Elder Guards. They did due honor to those gathered but kept their attention focused on Fadding. Now the noise in the chamber approached babble. Fyrelm glanced at King Hartwig, who only seemed amused at the spectacle. When he caught Fyrelm's stare he merely lifted an eyebrow.

  The herald pounded the floor three times. Then he had to pound it more than three times again! Finally the gathered nobles approached something close to silence.

  "Since we are all present, Lairds and Ladies," said Hartwig, "I do hereby declare this gathering of the Hausmoot in order. Good herald?"

  The herald pounded the floor again, obviously disgruntled. Well might he be, since the King skipped a great deal of ceremony. Only when critical matters threatened did King Hartwig short the ceremony, but now Fyrelm had no idea what to think. Fadding's appearance quelled most of what he considered likely.

  "Lairds and Ladies of the Hausmoot," said the herald, "Please to welcome Monica Eileen Lady Deming, Knight and Scion of the Great and Noble House of Gladius."

  Deming, young but confident, approached the Moot and did them proper honor.

  "Your Highness," said Deming, "Lairds and Ladies of the Hausmoot. Three days ago I stood in witness for the Great and Noble House of Gladius and in impartiality for the Crown. As required by that duty, I am here today to present the matters of witness, and to place myself before you in judgment for the actions I took on behalf of the Crown." She hesitated a moment. "Before I do so, however, there is one other whose presence here is necessary.

  "Your Highness, King Hartwig. Lairds and Ladies of the Hausmoot. Please to welcome Gunter Rene du'Charle Lord Fyrelm, Prince Elmer, Fourteenth to the Crown."

  Noise erupted through the chamber and Fyrelm felt the floor ripped out from beneath him. He looked toward the door, then closed his eyes and wiped them hard. When he opened them again, Gunter still remained, now hurrying across the floor toward him!

  ***

  Damning protocol and propriety and decorum to the winds, Reginald jumped to his feet and hurried to meet his son. Gunter said nothing, but threw his arms around him.

  "Gunter! My son... How..." Reginald had trouble seeing through the wetness in his eyes and speaking past the lump in his throat.

  "Long story, Father," said Gunter, wiping his own eyes, his voice husky with emotion, "One you'll know soon enough."

  After a much longer time the herald finally restored order again. Gunter was as reluctant as Reginald to let go, yet Hausmoot had been called to order.

  "Prince Gunter," said Hartwig, "We have heard your petition. At the time we decreed it we thought your banishment unjustified. Therefore we are happy to annul it and to welcome you home. We are equally pleased to annul our censure against the Great and Noble House of Brightcrown.

  "So let it be.

  "We have also come to possess certain other information of critical import to the Worlds of the Crown of Stars. Since you were instrumental in its discovery, we have asked our son and heir to relinquish his customary seat so that you might sit here this day."

  Gunter took a proper knee, his ever-present grin as mischievous as ever.

  "Thank you, your highness. I am most honored to join you. Please let it be known, however, that I would not be here today, and the Crown would be facing a peril too dire for words, were it not for my brother and friends."

  Hartwig smiled at this. "We are aware of your circumstances, Prince Gunter, and we have made accommodation for them. Micah James Stone. Come forth."

  ***

  Micah walked forward with a sudden, overpowering sense of caution. Ferrel warned him that he might have a part in the ceremony but gave no particulars or details.

  King Hartwig stood, picked up a large sword and walked down to the floor. Micah had no worries about trouble, absolutely, but in Ferrel's universe non-trouble still left ample room for interpretation!

  "Take a knee," said a smiling Hartwig. Then, to the rest of the room, "Micah James Lord Stone, blood of the Great and Noble House of Brightcrown, Blood of the Crown, we have witnessed the great and brave lengths to which you have gone to protect the Worlds of the Crown of Stars, and your brother our prince.

  "It is our great pleasure this day to name you Micah James Sir Stone, Knight of the Crown, Order of Ulfric's Guard. This title is awarded only to those who have paid von Halm's price in defense of Crown and King, but to our thought you are well worthy of it." Hartwig touched Micah's shoulders with the sword, right, then left, then right. "Now stand, Sir Micah, and join your brother at our side."

  Micah stood with a thousand questions buzzing inside him, but answers would obviously have to wait. He thought he heard Ferrel chuckle softly, but when he looked he saw nothing.

  "My Lady Deming," said Hartwig after the three of them sat, "Please to present to us the matters to which you stood in witness."

  ***

  Reginald watched incredulously as his son's judgment unfolded. His blood boiled at Fadding's actions and his manner. He felt a spark of anger at what n'Guirro did, but the visible outrage from the Marines told him of its severity to them. No few nobles present looked anxiously at Hartwig when they saw Micah dispatch Outremin, but the King had no concern for his safety whatsoever. The holocaster picked up and repeated Fadding's words with cruel clarity, and Reginald almost felt the seeds of pity for Fadding. Almost.

  Next came more, and worse. Assisted by their friends, the Edders and McReely agents presented their findings to the Moot. Then the three League agents gave theirs. Reginald could find no words to describe the depravity of Fadding's plan and the patience with which he executed it. With the combined findings from League and Crown agents, the sum of it all came out worse, even, than the small parts of it.

  Finally came the revelation of Fadding's dealings with the Consortium, and its consequences for the League Navy. Reginald's stomach turned and he tasted bile at that. At last it was done.

  After a long silence, King Hartwig spoke.

  "Lairds and Ladies of the Hausmoot, we have no words to describe the outrage, contempt and disgust we feel at this betrayal of the Crown and of the League. Do any here wish to dispute these findings, or our condemnation of them?"

  None did.

  "Do any of the Lairds of the Houses involved have aught to say in their defense?"

  Laird Simmons appeared ready to say something, but quickly reconsidered it.

  "This, then, is our judgment. Let the Great House of Varl be stricken from the roll or Great Houses. Let half their wealth and holdings be confiscated and presented to the Great and Noble House of Brightcrown to compense them for the dishonor and harm done them. Let half of their remaining wealth and holdings be confiscated and divided between the Noble House of Edders and the House of McReely, for damages done them.

  "Let the Great House of Binkor-Sud be stricken from the roll of Great Houses and let half their wealth be confiscated to the Crown and distributed as we see fit among the Houses and others that their actions have harmed. Let the Noble House of Snughblak be stricken from the blood and henceforth known as the lesser House of Snughblak. Let the lesser House of Imix forfeit half of its wealth and holdings to the Crown to compensate the damage it has caused
.

  "Let the Noble House of Edders be added to the roll of Great Houses and henceforth be known as the Great and Noble House of Edders. Let the lesser House of McReely be welcomed to the blood, and henceforth be known as the Noble House of McReely. Do any present dispute this?"

  None did.

  "Do any present wish to challenge our decrees?"

  None.

  "Finally, lest our League brothers and sisters from outside the Crown's worlds doubt our loyalty, let it be known that we adjure and welcome their investigation into this abhorrent matter. We will gladly offer forth any assistance they require, at any length and in any detail required to expunge this foulness from our midst!

  "As to the criminals here who did perpetrate treason against the League, we request and insist that League justice be visited upon them in all cases where it is more severe than that of the Crown.

  "So let it be!"

  Pandemonium!

  ***

  After a week on Barinhall, Micah and the rest left for Haembrecht, the homeworld for House Brightcrown. The Hausmoot still stood in session but, assured the elder Fyrelm, only for the minor details. They had handled the important matters and they would stay handled now!

  After the chaos following King Hartwig's pronouncement, Micah and all the rest went over what they had discovered in excruciating detail. They went over it individually, in pairs, in groups, to the entire Moot and to several smaller executive groups and finally to the Elder Guard. Ionoski appeared after the third day, presented his report and sat back to watch the others still doing so with some amusement.

  Richard Ambith appeared wearing the expression of a condemned man. Per their very stringent regulations, the Elder Guards arrested him immediately. He seemed to expect that and accepted it as a matter of course, but when King Hartwig, himself and in person, pardoned Ambith and reinstated him, he burst into tears. Even better, the very Guardsmen who conducted him into custody welcomed him back with a celebration rowdy enough to banish any possible shadow, on his record or otherwise.