Miestryri

by Bethany Hoeflich

  “I saw the light. No one is supposed to come in here other than you, and I thought it might be thieves.” He stepped closer. Whatever showed on Silvano’s face must have alarmed him. “Are you all right? Should I fetch a Healer?”

  Silvano shook his head. “I’m not sick. I… well… read it for yourself.” He held out the scroll.

  Jax frowned at him, but he took it and read, his face growing paler by the word. “Is this…?”

  “Yes. The same day I was exiled, my father took it upon himself to renounce my claim to the throne and named Arianna as the heir apparent, pending the priests’ blessing at the ceremony,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

  “Does anyone else know about this?”

  “Other than Lucan and Arianna, I don’t believe so.”

  “Good.” Jax lifted the glass from the lantern and lowered the scroll into the flame. The edges curled and blackened as the fire consumed it, leaving nothing behind but a tiny pile of ash. “Now, she has no proof. Her entire claim to the throne is over, and if she were intelligent, she’d flee the country. Come, you look dead on your feet, and you’ll need some rest before the council meeting.”

  Silvano nodded. As he turned to follow Jax out of the room, something on the desk caught his eye—a thick black book. On a whim, he took it with him. He doubted he would get any sleep, but hopefully this would prove to be interesting reading material at least.

  He had no idea how true that would be.

  11

  By an unfortunate turn of events, Silvano found himself trapped in the small council room on the same day that Lady Liola came to air her seemingly unending list of grievances. The only thing keeping him in his seat was the fact that he had very real problems to discuss with the council—specifically, with the minister of sanitation. He hadn’t forgotten what he’d seen in the slums, and he resolved to make things better for the sake of the people, and not for his own gain, regardless of what Arianna believed.

  His newfound altruism, however, was at odds with his overwhelming desire to strangle Lady Liola.

  A feeling made worse by the roaring fire behind him. Sweat trickled down his back, staining his finest white doublet. He had serious doubts that it would wash properly. Which servant had decided that roasting the small council was an appropriate course of action? He had half a mind to send him or her into permanent exile in the frozen wasteland of Tregydar.

  His fingers tapped on the cover of the book he’d taken from his father’s office. The naval officer shot him a curious glance, and Silvano smiled. They had no idea that he was about to unleash a swarm of jellyfish on this meeting.

  An hour passed before Lady Liola was satisfied that the council was taking her seriously, then another before she finally left with an extra bounce in her step and the assurance that her neighbor would receive a citation for his numerous misdeeds.

  He sighed in relief, dismissing her with all the appropriate remarks. He opened his mouth to address the council, but before Silvano could take control of the meeting, a messenger burst into the room, clutching a missive like it was a bag of gold. He bowed low. “Miestryri, a message for you from Order Headquarters. Head Magi Cadmus sends his regards.”

  “Thank you.” Silvano took the scroll from the messenger. He smiled and brushed his thumb against the wax seal—an eight-pointed star. Then he turned and threw it in the fireplace.

  Gasps rang out around the table. The messenger spluttered, “Sire! That was from the—”

  “The Head Magi, I’m aware. Thanks to my possession of two fully-functional ears, I was able to understand you the first time you spoke.” He tried to hide his irritation. The messenger had likely been raised to believe that the Order was beyond reproach, an organization without fault, designed to benefit the greater good. But Silvano knew better.

  “But—”

  “Allow me to make myself clear,” Silvano said, pausing to make eye contact with everyone in the room. The minister of the people wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It would be my greatest pleasure to drive the Order and all its disciples from Crystalmoor.”

  With a wave of the hand, he dismissed the messenger, who stared at Silvano as if he’d just admitted he skinned puppies for fun. It took all his self-control to not launch into a tirade over the corruption within the Order. But that was an argument for another day. He was about to launch an assault against their deep-rooted beliefs and traditions as it was.

  “I believe we’ve wasted enough time this morning on frivolous nonsense, so let’s get down to business.” Silvano stood and addressed the council. “First, I would like to give my full support for the sewer project. This is something that has long been needed, and I believe that it will improve the quality of life for all of our citizens.”

  The council exchanged loaded looks. The minister of sanitation looked particularly uncomfortable as he squirmed in his chair. “By all our citizens, what do you mean exactly?”

  “Exactly what I said. Everyone deserves clean water and streets. I would like to expedite construction as soon as possible, starting in the slums. In addition, I would like to put a team together to clean the streets and hand out food to those most in need.”

  A small tittering of laughter broke out. The minister of sanitation leaned forward and patted the drawings. “Forgive me, Miestryri, but there seems to have been a misunderstanding. The sewer plans were for the nobility and those who can afford to install it in their own homes. This is still relatively new technology in Aravell, mind you. I apologize if I made it seem as though everyone were going to benefit.”

  He pretended to be shocked by the statement, but it was no more than he expected from the council. It was easy to overlook the suffering of others when you didn’t experience it yourself. “You were planning on furthering the disparity between classes by withholding this from the general public?” he asked, hoping to shame them into cooperation.

  “Yes, well, when you phrase it that way, it does sound bad, doesn’t it?” The minister of sanitation pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the sweat beading on his forehead. “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s quite expensive. The people can hardly afford to eat, let alone pay five hundred gold pieces to connect their homes up to the new sewer system.”

  “My father has been beggaring the people through taxes for years, and as a result, our coffers are filled to bursting. Wouldn’t you agree, madam treasurer?”

  The treasurer looked taken aback to have been addressed, then she scrambled for her ledger and flipped through the pages.

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Silvano told her. “You see, I was going through my father’s things early this morning, and I came across something interesting.” He held up a black-bound book and watched for signs of recognition. Their blank faces were almost a disappointment. But what had he expected? “It’s virtually identical to the one you use, madam treasurer, but you’ll find the numbers don’t match up. Curious.”

  “A clerical error, I’m sure.”

  “A clerical error. That’s a funny way to say embezzlement.” The room went silent as all eyes flickered between Silvano to the ledger. “Every single person in this room, with the exception of our naval officer and the minister of the people, is guilty of stealing funds from the treasury. To cover up the theft, taxes have gradually increased over the past few years. I’m sure I don’t have to state just how serious of a crime this is.”

  The treasurer paled. She reached out and braced her hands on the edge of the table. Her breathing became shallow and raspy and, for a moment, Silvano thought she might expire right then and there. “Mercy.”

  “I will gladly offer all of you an official pardon on two conditions. First, you will pay back every copper bit you embezzled from the treasury. Second, you will approve the sewer project for every home in Crystalmoor, and not just the wealthy.” When no one raised objections, Silvano clapped his hands once. “Wonderful! I’m happy we could come to an agreement.”

  The minister of
sanitation opened his mouth to say something, but Silvano waved him off. “There is something else I need to present to the council related to this matter.”

  Everyone sat a bit straighter. Silvano stifled a grin and wondered how long this newfound obedience would last. It would certainly make council meetings more efficient. For the first time, he felt fully in control.

  “Recently, it has come to my attention that the people are being denied adequate medical care because they cannot afford to pay the Healers. This ends today. You will create a system where people can take their sick and injured to be Healed.”

  The minister of the people nodded. “It’s similar to the system they use in Aravell. I’m hesitant to offer my support on this matter. Healers are already expensive and constructing care centers will only increase the rates. It could make the cost of Healing prohibitive for the general public.”

  “You misunderstand me. The Healers will be paid directly from the treasury—a set amount, so they cannot refuse service.”

  The treasurer stared at him in horror. “You are going to bankrupt Crystalmoor!”

  “I am doing nothing of the sort. So far, their taxes have done nothing but line the pockets of the rich, and to fund my father’s lavish feasts. To make up for the added expenses, there will be an increased tax on the upper-class.”

  “You’re going to lose the support of the nobility. They’ve worked hard for their money, and you’re punishing them for it.”

  Silvano walked around the table and over to the window that overlooked the city. “On the contrary. They’ve accumulated their wealth by exploiting the lower class in underpaying jobs. It’s only fair that they pay more. One might even say it’s their duty as citizens of Crystalmoor.”

  No one responded. He wasn’t sure if he should feel proud or offended by their fearful stares. “Thank you for your cooperation in these matters. I expect regular updates on your progress. Now, do any of you have matters to present?”

  The naval officer raised his hand and pushed back his chair. He walked to the head of the table to address the council. “There is a new development with the navy. Lord Pierce has acquired a new weapon from Aravell. I would like to request an audience to demonstrate what it can do.”

  Silvano’s ears perked up. Is that the trade agreement Lord Pierce had made? Purchasing a new weapon seemed unnecessary, but he would reserve judgment for now. “Is there a purpose to this weapon?”

  “Our reports show that the Belosian pirates are getting bolder. Not only are they boarding and assaulting our ships, but they have recently begun landing on our northern shores, pillaging and raiding the villages there.”

  Silvano rubbed a finger across his lips. “That doesn’t explain why Aravell would equip us with weapons. No matter our alliance, I can’t imagine any country willingly handing their neighbors something that could be turned against them.”

  The naval officer nodded. “That was my initial reaction as well.”

  “And now?”

  “Reports from Aravell show that the pirates are doing the same to them. Unlike us, Aravell has no true navy, and the ships they did have were taken by the pirates. They aren’t a military people. Any proposed changes must be sent to committees and voted on. I’m sure you can imagine how this could cripple them in war time. Without our aid, they would be wiped out in a year.”

  “I see.” Silvano frowned. Lord Pierce had never shown an interest in the navy before, or any military business for that matter. What had compelled him to enter into this trade?

  “If it pleases you, I’d like us to meet tomorrow morning at the cove where our fleet awaits. My force will run a few test drills to try out the new weapon. With your approval, Lord Pierce will acquire more at the earliest convenience.”

  Silvano’s eyes narrowed. “And what does he expect in return for his generosity?”

  “Nothing. I understand that family is his motivator in this instance. His daughter and her husband live in Raven Crest, the capital.”

  “Very well. If there is nothing else, this meeting is adjourned. We will reconvene in the cove in the morning.”

  12

  Crystalmoor’s naval fleet was stationed in a man-made cove a half-mile north of East Rock. Silvano surveyed the area as the sailors prepared for the demonstration. The secluded cove offered protection from the violent seasonal storms common to the area but unfortunately, its narrow bottleneck would be a perfect location for an ambush. He resolved to discuss altering the cove to provide a secondary exit at the next council meeting.

  Lush flora covered the rocky coast, shielding the cove from the sea-side view. An early morning fog had rolled in, clinging to the sea and lowering visibility. The naval officer, now appointed admiral, had assured him that it would not interfere with the demonstration.

  Silvano stood on the prow of the navy’s flagship, The Indomitable, which rocked gently on the small waves. A green-faced Jax stood next to him. From the looks of it, he was just barely holding onto breakfast without tossing it off the side. Silvano took a deep breath, relishing the scent of the saltwater. A flock of gulls cried as they flew overhead. He leaned forward, running a hand over the carved figurehead—a kraken. Its tentacles wrapped around the bow of the ship, swirling along the sides which bore the scars of a hundred battles. The Indomitable had led the navy’s armada on hundreds of voyages, and it had never once been boarded. Never been defeated.

  And this new weapon would ensure victory for years to come. He allowed himself the indulgence of a daydream—a vision of himself at the helm, leading the charge against the pirates that terrorized the coastline. But he wouldn’t stop there. Once he had neutralized the threat of the pirates, he would send his fleet east and conquer both Belos and Talos, expanding Crystalmoor’s power. All possible because of this opportune trade deal with Aravell.

  Six of the new weapons lined up in a row on the starboard side of the ship where a Farber had sawed holes allowing them to poke through. Each weapon consisted of a long, iron tube mounted on a metal stand. It didn’t look like much, but it was technology that he could hardly dream of. Lord Pierce had said the cannons had each cost a fortune, but they would be instrumental in defeating the pirates.

  Speaking of Lord Pierce, the man himself stood at the stern, surrounded by a group of nobles who insisted on being present for the demonstration. Dressed more appropriately for a ball than a war exercise, they sipped apricot cordial and nibbled on smoked fish on toasted bread to break their fast. Silvano had politely declined their invitation to join them, stating that he wasn’t there to socialize. His snub might come back to haunt him, judging by the nobles’ outraged stares and loud whispers.

  Silvano strolled to the first cannon where the admiral waited with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. A pile of round, iron balls waited at the back of the cannon.

  “Admiral.” Silvano dipped his head in greeting.

  The tips of the admiral’s ears turned red. “Miestryri. There’s no need for such formality.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll be leading the armada against the pirates for years to come. How will your crew respect you if the Miestryri does not?”

  The admiral shook his head. “I don’t deserve the title. Surely there were more experienced sailors."

  “There were none I trusted more than you.” Too eager to suffer through the rest of the customary greetings, Silvano gestured to the cannons and asked, “How do they work?”

  The admiral couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. His face broke out in a wide grin that made him appear even younger than his twenty-one years. He smacked the side of the cast-iron tube. “We pack firepowder—a recent invention in Aravell—into the bottom of the bore and then load the cannonball. Then, we light the fuse, which ignites the firepowder and fires the cannonball. Picture a row of Saxums launching melon-sized rocks at the enemy, just with fifty times the power and distance!”

  Silvano’s eyebrows rose. “You think we could get that sort of range?”

  “I do,”
he said confidently. He gestured to the south. “We have a target ship anchored just there, about a thousand feet away. This is a test run. Our goal for today is to test our range and accuracy in the hopes of sinking it. If we can get a clean hit, I’ll consider it a victory.”

  Silvano followed the trajectory. If he squinted, he could just barely make out the outline of the target ship through the fog. If the admiral’s crew managed a clean hit, he would be quite impressed. “Well, far be it from me to delay you.”

  The admiral bowed before taking his place by the helm.

  “Positions!” the admiral called.

  The nobles pressed closer, eager to see what the weapons were capable of. Their endless prattling and excitable chatter grated on Silvano’s nerves. In retrospect, inviting them had been a mistake.

  Groups of four sailors gathered around each of the cannons. Using long poles, they packed the cannons with firepowder and cannonballs. “Aim!”

  “Fire!”

  They lit the fuses and stood back, covering their ears. With a thunderous boom, the cannons fired. Cannonballs sailed through the air before splashing harmlessly in the water a few yards shy of the target. The sailors groaned as they adjusted their aim for the next round.

  The admiral nodded as if that was to be expected. “Reload!”

  “Fire!”

  Another volley of cannonballs launched toward the target. The nobles, who had applauded the first round enthusiastically, now tittered and giggled behind their hands. Only Lord Pierce stood silently, gripping the rail until his knuckles turned white. He squinted out into the fog as the crew rushed to load another round. And another. The piles of cannonballs dwindled, and the sharp tang of firepowder tainted the air. Finally, a single ball hit its mark, blowing a hole in the side of the ship above the waterline. It was far from a fatal hit that would send the ship to the depths, but a cheer rose up amongst the crew as they celebrated the hit nevertheless.