Wrath of the Usurper (The Eoriel Saga Book 2)

by Kal Spriggs

  His son nodded, yet he had an uncomfortable look upon his face, “Father, I hate to press further, but there were rumors about his youngest son...”

  “His youngest son was executed for sorcery,” Elias said quietly. “Lord Tarken's daughter discovered it and reported it to him and he in turn reported it to Grand Duke Becket. He stood by the punishment and I can tell he still feels guilt for not discovering such behavior and eliminating it sooner.”

  His son sat back. “Very well.” He chewed on his lip, “I wish I knew more of what was happening, but Sir Harald has been very close-lipped about the Council. When he asked me to speak with you, after hearing how much support there is in the streets for Admiral Tarken, well, I got to worrying.” Elias felt a bit of worry about what Harald might have heard in the Council chambers that he asked Gervais to find out more about the Admiral. I wonder if they fear his success for some reason, he thought worriedly, they have to know he is loyal to the bone...

  “You worried that he was some sort of populist like Dalton?” Elias asked.

  “I think that was some of it,” his son nodded, “But I knew you wouldn't serve with a man like that, not if you had the choice. Still, with this business about the Earl of Trelhaven...”

  “What have you heard?” Elias asked. He doubted his son knew any more than his wife, but any sliver of information might tell him about young Alfanz.

  “No more than mother, I'm afraid,” Gervais answered softly. “The Order has some agents and even a couple Knights that operate out of Freeport, but they haven't been in communication since shortly after Admiral Fenteren died. The implications, of course, aren't good.” Elias nodded. If Admiral Henning planned treason of some kind, he would eliminate those most likely to stand against him or speak out. He knew his older son well and he found it unlikely that he would stand idly by while Admiral Hennings imprisoned innocent men and women. I hope that he has the sense to conceal his ties to me and to the Restorationists, he thought.

  If not, then he hoped his ancestors would watch over the boy... and that if Hennings or one of his followers had hurt his son, Elias hoped he would have the opportunity to make the traitorous bastard pay.

  ***

  Chapter Six

  Lord Admiral Christoffer Tarken

  The Citadel, Boirton, Duchy of Boir

  8th of Martaan, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering

  “My lord,” Nikolas said, “There's an aide to Lord Schilt here, he says that the Council would like your attendance at their chambers.”

  Christoffer frowned a bit as he looked up from the reports that he and Siara had slowly worked their way through. They were status updates from various forces across the Duchy and even in the Southern Fleet. Many of them were old, some painfully so. It hurt to read some signed by Admiral Fenteren, knowing that this would be his last communication with his old friend. We'll get the bastard, he thought to himself, and make him pay for your death.

  Evidence continued to mount against the Earl of Trelhaven. Certain movements of his wealth as well as sales of property had been particularly damning. Of particular note, however, were troop and naval movements he had authorized in his role in Naval Personnel at the Admiralty House, just before he signed his own transfer to the Southern Fleet. A number of officers of questionable loyalty had preceded him over the course of his two years in that position. The pattern, particularly of those with debts to the Earl as well as those with blood or patronage ties to his family was so obvious that it was damning.

  “Did they say why?” he asked Nikolas as he stood and adjusted his uniform. His steward tisked and came forward to straighten it for him. “No, my Lord, but that's hardly unusual of late.”

  Christoffer snorted at that. With all of his responsibilities, Admiral Gerhard had asked him to take some of the meetings with the Council. Normally the Admiralty and the Grand Duke's Army shared a pair of non-voting seats on the Council, which meant that Christoffer ended up seated next to the irate General Schoelhorn. It still bothered him how often the eyes of various members of the Council went to him over the past week... and how much weight they seemed to put upon what he had to say. Sometimes it almost felt like they were more concerned with how he said what he did than what he actually said.

  He nodded at Siara, “I suppose we'll pick this up later.”

  She smiled, “Of course, my Lord.”

  He shook his head at that. She had emulated Nikolas's tendency to use the honorific rather than his rank while in the Citadel, despite his protests to the contrary. If anything, it seemed that she had a stubborn desire to remind him of his position, almost as if that would somehow inspire him to seek power. Little chance of that, he thought darkly. If he had been so inclined, the first half-dozen Council meetings would have made him come to his senses. He wanted nothing to do with some of their decisions, particularly when they spent hours wrangling over how to spend tax money that they weren't certain they could collect.

  Christoffer stepped into the hallway and Jenkins and Brussels immediately fell in on either side. He didn't bother to sigh at them, they had at this point become something of a fixture. Both men had somehow acquired leather vests of the sort that bodyguards were authorized to wear at the Citadel. Both men also carried long-bladed knives, the largest weapons available to anyone who wasn't one of the Citadel's assigned guards. And Jenkins probably knows were to get some of their weapons in a pinch, he thought resignedly.

  Soon enough, they came to the Council chamber and Christoffer entered through the side door. Most of the actual Council were already present, he saw, but the other non-voting members were still arriving. Clearly they had been in heated discussion, because Christoffer saw that several of them were still red-faced. Lady Diana, in particular, had a harsh scowl on her face. Her baleful gaze seemed to linger on Lord Schilt in particular. Christoffer just hoped that whatever the feud was, that it wouldn't spill over into this meeting.

  Once the last members arrived, Lord Erich spoke up. “Ladies and Gentlemen... we've two emissaries who arrived in the past day. The first is from Duke Hector of Masov.” There were more than a few mutters about that and Christoffer couldn't help a frown himself. The Usurper Duke had seldom sent emissaries to other lands. Rumor had it that he had severed ties with the Vendakar, who had supplied him with mercenaries and trade, but that didn't mean that it was true. Even if it did, Christoffer wasn't particularly inclined to be swayed by a man who had forsaken his sworn oath and murdered his Duke.

  “The other is from Lord Admiral Hennings,” Lord Erich said. The mutters turned into full discussion and Christoffer pursed his lips in thought. That was unexpected, to say the least. Still, it didn't hurt to hear what his 'emissary' had to say.

  “Why haven't we been informed of this until just now?” Jeroen Kurth asked. The wealthy merchant looked nervous, as well he should, Christoffer thought, since if he hadn't been informed as the Minister of Trade then it meant that part of the Council had met in secret. Which means that they might have met in secret about other things, Christoffer thought.

  “We've kept both of their arrivals secret until now in order to hear them out and deliberate upon what they have to say without pressure from either the people or from other notables,” Lady Diana said. “And before you ask... no, we don't know what either of them are here to say, although we can draw some conclusions.” She shot a baleful look at Lord VanEggar who scowled right back at her.

  “Regardless,” Lord Erich said, “We will have a closed session first with Lord Hennings emissary and then with the one from Duke Hector.” He nodded at his aide who went to the door. “Before we begin, might I remind everyone here that despite any suspicions we have of the Earl of Trelhaven... we do not know for certain of any treasonous activity and we will treat him and his emissary with the respect they are due.”

  The aide opened the door and a stocky, uniformed man stepped into the room. After a moment, Christoffer recognized the Captain, though he had worn Lieutenant's rank when he had last seen h
im. “Captain Peter Shook, emissary from the Earl of Trelhaven, Commander of the Southern Fleet,” the aide announced.

  The officer smirked a bit as he stepped forward and Christoffer's eyes narrowed. His name had not been on the promotions lists, not those of the Admiralty House anyway. He had, in fact, a letter of reprimand from his last commander as a result of a drunken brawl with a fellow officer. Christoffer only remembered any of that because his name had come up as one of the transfers to the Southern Fleet under Admiral Hennings tenure in Personnel.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” Captain Shook said, his smile arrogant, “greetings from the Earl of Trelhaven. He has asked me to deliver both a request and to put your fears to rest.” Christoffer frowned at his tone, it was pure theatrics, a man who didn't believe his own words but treasured the effect they would have. “He has uncovered a foul plot afoot in the Southern Fleet and put down an attempted mutiny. In the process, he has arrested many of the conspirators, a list of which I can provide. He wishes you to all rest secure knowing that such seditious activity stood no chance under his firm leadership.”

  “These conspirators... what is his intention on their arrest?” Lady Diana asked. The Baroness of Verlische looked particularly irritated by the man, Christoffer saw.

  “Well, that is in part why I've come. Some of them, I'm afraid, have very close ties to the nobility of Boir, sons and nephews and even a few daughters,” he shook his head slightly. “He feels that for now justice is satisfied that merely those who resisted were killed and the others are imprisoned. But this is not a final solution, of course.” The threat was obvious. The hostages would be killed if his demands were not met and Christoffer felt his face draw back in a frown of distaste.

  “I see,” Lord Erich said. “We will take this under consideration.”

  “Thank you, my Lord,” Captain Shook said. “In addition, I must pass along the Admiral's request. He feels the Council has deliberated long enough and that the next Grand Duke should be selected... the sooner the better.”

  “And I suppose he has his own opinion about who that should be?” Lord Schilt said sharply.

  “Of course Lord Admiral Hennings would not attempt to sway the decision of the Council in any way,” Captain Shook said with an expression of false innocence. “Though I must say that, should he be selected for such an honor, his first action would be to pardon those conspirators he has imprisoned.”

  Christoffer felt nauseous at the heavy-handed threat. He wondered if the Earl of Trelhaven had sent the obnoxious man as a direct insult to the Council... or if in his arrogance he simply hadn't cared that the man he sent was a buffoon.

  Lord Schilt leaned forward, “Listen here, you insolent...”

  “Thank you, Captain Shook,” Lord Erich said. “The Council will consider his request and we'll be certain to send you back to him with an appropriate message. If you'll please leave your list with my aide?”

  The traitorous captain passed over a folded sheet of parchment and turned away. His swagger as he walked away spoke volumes of how little respect he felt for anyone in the room. The doors shut and most of the room descended into chaos. Christoffer sat back and shook his head, perhaps the man's intent was just this, to throw the entire Council at one another's throats?

  “The man is an arrogant ass, disrespectful and insolent!” Lord Schilt said. “He's not worthy of the uniform he wears. We should strip him naked and give him a dozen lashes for his troubles before stringing him up...”

  “...has some forty-seven hostages,” Jeroen Kurth said, “That doesn't count at least fifteen that were killed 'resisting arrest' and their names are...”

  “Enough!” Lord Erich snapped and the room went silent. “Yes, the bastard out there deserves a short drop and a quick stop, but he knows well enough what will happen to any hostages if we give it to him.” He swept his angry gaze around the room and few managed to meet his eyes. “He has forty-seven hostages towards our good behavior.”

  “I will not vote that traitorous slime into power,” Lord Schilt said.

  “I'm not asking you to do so,” Lord Erich said. “What we need to discuss is the possibility of rescue or some kind of trade. We have arrested some of his extended family and political allies.” He looked over at Christoffer, “Admiral Tarken, do we not have Admiral Hennings youngest son as prisoner?”

  Christoffer nodded, “Yes, though he suffered a blow to his head, he's since healed. I believe that one of General Schoelhorn's officers collected him from the Ubelfurst upon her arrival.”

  “Do you think he would trade any hostages for his son?” Lady Diana asked. From the tone of her voice, she already had her own opinion about that.

  Christoffer pinched his lips and shook his head, “No. If, as the evidence suggests, Admiral Hennings knew about the Armen ambush ahead of time... well, then it would appear he sent his youngest son to his death on purpose.” She nodded grimly, though something else lurked behind her eyes, almost an edge of suspicion and Christoffer wished he knew its source.

  “What about a rescue attempt?” Jeroen asked.

  “They'll be well-guarded,” Lord Schilt said. “And the distance is such that by the time we even were able to put someone in place...”

  “They would need supplies, knowledge of their location, far more than we can provide with any level of secrecy,” General Schoelhorn said harshly. “The Earl of Trelhaven undoubtedly has some agents here, any major expedition such as that would draw attention.”

  Sir Harald spoke up, “The Order has some handful of agents in Freeport along with a single Knight. We've been unable to contact them so far, but we can try harder to get them a message and ask that they take action to rescue the hostages.”

  “How likely is that to work?” Lady Diana asked as she arched an eyebrow.

  Sir Harald shrugged, “If we can reach them, I know for certain they would try. I cannot say much to their odds of success, I'm afraid.” His voice was somber, clearly he wished he could do more and Christoffer couldn't help but empathize with the man. He is a man of action, Christoffer thought, yet he is far from where he can take any actions to directly help.

  Lord Erich looked pensive. “There is little doubt that any hostages will live only a long as they are useful... at the same time, it seems likely that Admiral Hennings will not kill them out of hand.”

  “You're saying he'll use them as leverage as long as he can?” Lady Diana asked.

  “Yes, even if we don't outright give into his demands he will attempt to use them to sway us, prevent us from acting directly against him, and almost certainly attempt to force individuals here to support him in protection of their loved ones there,” Lord Erich said. “Those who show that they cannot be turned will be used as examples, though even then I think he will execute only those that will not be of use in the long term.”

  Christoffer found himself nodding at that. It did the traitor no good to massacre his hostages in a fury. Lord Erich's words had a statesman's understanding of the situation, and a pain familiar to Christoffer, since he had heard that Lord Erich's eldest grandson was present in the Southern Fleet and was undoubtedly on the list of hostages.

  “Very well,” Lord Schilt said gruffly, “We're all in agreement in that we cannot give into him and that this was meant to be a slap in the face. I say we shelve this... until after a Duke is selected and send an appropriate response then.” He swept his gaze across the room and, not seeing anyone willing to speak otherwise, gave a sharp nod. “We should see this next envoy.”

  Lord Erich nodded at one of his aides and a moment later the doors opened again. The woman who stepped into the room had the obvious signs of mixed blood with the northern Armen, her dusky skin though was a shade or two softer and she wore southern style clothing. She advanced to the center of the room and gave a low bow, “I am Veruna Nasrat of the Lonely Isle and I bring greetings from Lord Hector, Duke of Masov.” She had an odd timbre to her voice, which projected to fill the room easily.

&nb
sp; “What does the Duke of Masov have to say to us?” Lord Erich asked.

  She cocked her head and her gaze swept the Council. It seemed to Christoffer that her eyes lingered longer on him than some of the others, though he couldn't say why. “The Duchy of Masov and the Grand Duchy of Boir have had disagreements and even conflict in the past. However, the recent attack by the Armen has proven that there are threats that we could face better should we work together.” At that several members of the Council began to shift in their seats and several, to include Jeroen Kurth, began to speak.

  She paused and allowed the mutters of conversation to continue for a moment. She was an expert speaker, Christoffer saw, one who was used to convincing people to see things her way. “Our disagreements can be set aside, for now, in regards to ownership of various lands and trade rights. Instead of conflict, Duke Hector wants alliance, to coordinate our attacks as the Armen withdraw to their raid camps and thence to Noriel. If we work together we can savage them, perhaps badly enough to prevent their immediate return south in the spring.” She gave a slight smile, one that seemed to light up the room like a sunny day, “I think we both could use the time to recover.”

  Lord Erich gave her a nod, “That is well spoken, Miss Nasrat.” His eyes darted to Christoffer and it almost looked as if he wanted to ask a question then and there, but he shook his head. “We will discuss this and my aides will summon you if we reach a conclusion today.”

  “Of course,” she nodded. “Though I will caution you that time is not on our side. Even now, the first wave of Armen raiders has reached their raid camps along the northern coasts of Eoriel. We do not have long to strike.” She bowed again and turned to leave.

  After the doors closed behind her, Lord Schilt spoke, “This is unexpected, to say the least.”