Wrath of the Usurper (The Eoriel Saga Book 2)

by Kal Spriggs

  Christoffer nodded at that, the Usurper Duke had, until now, showed only a sort of hostile apathy for the other Five Duchies. What might have changed to cause him to send such an emissary?

  Lady Diana spoke, “I caution everyone here to mind their thoughts. Veruna Nasrat is a powerful witch, one of the best on the Lonely Isle. Her father, Zabila Nasrat, commands Duke Hector's local battalion there on the Isle. They are both considered fanatically loyal, not just to him, but to the destruction of the Armen.”

  “You're saying she would attempt to manipulate us?” Jeroen asked, clearly shocked.

  “I'm saying that she could, if she wanted to,” Lady Diana said. “The protections of this room are strong, but her powers might still allow her some purchase if she exerted herself.”

  Christoffer felt a chill at that, but it was true from what he knew of magic. Witches often acted as intermediaries to spirits, whose powers were harder to limit through wizardry. The Council chamber was protected with layers of the best runic magic known by the Iron Wizards... but that didn't mean it was impenetrable, particularly to more subtle attacks.

  “Still, her offer is not one that we can dismiss out of hand,” Lord Schilt said gruffly. “And she's the right of it, if we could hurt the Armen badly enough as they withdraw, they may not come south again in the next Spring, as Admiral Tarken has said himself.”

  Christoffer felt nervous as the entire Council seemed to focus on him. He wanted nothing to do with these meetings and decisions, though he had his own opinion about both Lord Hector and his offer, it was not one he felt certain of enough to speak upon.

  “What do you think, Admiral,” Lord Erich said, “especially given our current surreptitious assistance to Lady Katarina, the Usurper's opponent?”

  It was exactly the question that Christoffer had feared and he gave a sigh. “At this point, Ladies and Gentlemen, I think it is impossible to say.” He restrained a sigh, “On the one hand, we could request of Hector what we have of Lady Katarina: a closure of the Ryftguard to all military traffic. In which case we would need to call off our support for that attack.” He shrugged, “Doing so would not benefit him and should our alliance fall apart on less than amicable terms, he might decide to not only allow Admiral Hennings passage but to actively seek alliance with him. If he does not agree, it might warn him of our desire and might cause him to be suspicious about Lady Katarina's attack, if we continue to go through with it.”

  “And if we don't go through with it,” General Schoelhorn grunted, “we destroy the goodwill we've built with Lady Katarina, so if she then manages to come to power we'll have alienated her.” The cynical tone to his voice suggested he didn't see a right answer to the question either.

  “On the other hand,” Christoffer said, “If we go through with the attack, he's bound to have some suspicions anyway. If we are his allies, he would then be positioned to exact his revenge. I have to say that accepting his offer of alliance while planning such an attack would be an action deserving of such revenge.”

  Most of the Council nodded at that, though he didn't miss a slight shrug from Lady Diana and some frowns from Lord VanEggar and Lady Peele. Lord VanEggar was the Lord Chamberlain and while the maintenance of the Citadel and it's guards fell under him, it was well enough known that his focus was more on the luxury comforts of which the weasel faced man enjoyed there. Christoffer wasn't surprised that the man wouldn't understand the military implications of such a betrayal. His lands, far to the east, would not face any kind of retaliation, Christoffer knew.

  Lady Diana said, “I would say that waiting, at least the few remaining days until the attack is completed, will give us some closure on that event. If we are not allies, not bound by treaty, it puts less weight on our actions and it makes it less likely that Lord Hector will think of us and realize our role.”

  “Also, we can gauge what he knows against Veruna Nasrat's reaction: if they withdraw their offer then it will be clear that they know we played a part and so we can expect some retaliation and if they don't then we'll be in the clear,” Lady Peele said. The countess seemed to like the idea of slipping a dagger in the Usurper's back, but that was hardly surprising considering that her lands included Kempen Island and Port Riss, which had once been a part of Masov until her father had been bought out by the Grand Duke of Boir, just after the Usurper's rise. It was strongly suspected that her father had been killed by assassins sent by the Usurper as punishment for that betrayal. Her cousin was murdered by the Usurper, too, Christoffer remembered. She had reason to fear both retaliation from the Usurper as well as further Armen raids. The sack of Port Riss had cost her lands dearly both in people and coin and her job as the Cofferer meant she would feel the pinch in her official position as well.

  “But if we accept his offer right after the attack, that would surely provoke his suspicions,” Christoffer cautioned.

  “Not if we time it with the announcement of our new Duke,” Lord VanEggar said eagerly. Clearly he liked the idea as well. “It will seem that we wanted the alliance, but that we needed his approval first.” Clearly VanEggar felt the decision was already made.

  “I think if we wait that long it will be the decision of our new Duke with us only to lend our advice and efforts towards making it work,” Lord Schilt said harshly.

  “Semantics,” Lady Peele said. The Countess of Kempen Island waved a dismissive hand, “And it isn't as if the man we've selected won't understand the strategic details...”

  “You're speaking out of turn,” Lady Diana said harshly. “The full Council is not a part of our deliberations on this subject and you will not violate the sworn secrecy of it.” The ice in her tone was enough to cause Lady Peele's face to pale.

  The silence that enveloped the room was a mix of uncomfortable and expectant. Clearly, Lady Diana felt that the other noblewoman had given away too much. The very fact that some members of the Council felt the selection of a new Duke was a foregone conclusion told everyone present that their deliberations were further along than they had suggested.

  And that they want to keep it a secret tells me that it will probably not be a popular decision, he thought. He could think of little other reason to keep it secret, though he couldn't blame them if that was the case. An unpopular ruler, or worse, one disliked by the populace, would be difficult, but if the man – or woman – selected was intelligent and dedicated, then his unpopularity would matter little. If he could perform the duties, then it would fall to his advisers and military to execute his orders.

  Lord Erich looked as if he had swallowed a lemon. “Well, I think that's enough discussion for now. The voting council will remain for some additional consultation. The rest of you are dismissed.”

  As he headed back to his suite, Christoffer mulled over the puzzle presented by the idea of an unpopular Grand Duke. He hadn't spent much time considering their possible choices until now. If they went straight by bloodline, there were only a handful of possible candidates. The Duke's Court, which tracked lineage and genealogy would no doubt have already weighed in with the eligible people. With Grand Duke Becket's immediate family murdered, that meant they would have to look further afield.

  The hell of it was that Christoffer knew that Admiral Hennings was probably one of the closest living blood relations. Off hand, he only knew of three others who shared Grand Duke Becket's blood and even then, they were tenuous connections. Christoffer's own grandmother, Amelia Bacher, had three children from her marriage with Grand Duke Andros, but she was his second wife. His first wife was the grandmother of Grand Duke Becket. Lord Hans Bacher was Grand Duke Becket's uncle, Amelia Bacher's youngest child, but he had given up his inheritance and birthright to spend his time in studies. While intelligent, his fascination was with natural sciences and Christoffer doubted the man would even entertain the thought of taking on the Grand Duke's duties, particularly in the current crisis.

  Lord Staven Hennings was the eldest son of Lady Angelika Bacher and Lord Gerrad Hennings. His mot
her was the third child of Grand Duke Andros, which, depending on the court's interpretation made him eligible to inherit before Lord Hans Bacher anyway. The problem, of course, was the evidence that tied him not only to the destruction of the Northern Fleet but also the death of his cousin, Grand Duke Becket.

  Grand Duke Andros' first child, Lord Lindhart, had served in the Navy and risen to the rank of Captain before being killed in action. He had two children with his wife, the eldest was Grand Duke Becket and the younger was Lady Jessica. Unfortunately, he'd also had an illegitimate son, Luther Stachter, with his mistress, who Grand Duke Andros had recognized after his son's death. Lady Jessica had been killed in the attack that took her older brother's life, but she had two daughters. Either would be eligible for the title, except Lady Miranda was married to the Marovingian Duke's heir and Lady Samantha had been in Freeport when Lord Admiral Hennings seized control of the town and the Southern Fleet. Christoffer would be surprised if the young woman wasn't either dead or a hostage.

  Luthor Stachter served in the Duke's Army, though it was rumored there was little love lost between him and his late half-brother. In many ways he would be a prime candidate for taking Duke Becket's place, except for the fact of his mixed lineage. His mother was a mageborn, which had become common knowledge when Grand Duke Andros recognized him. Though he could have passed as a halflbood mix of Armen and Starborn, once his true ancestry became known he had become something of a pariah. It was less a function of fear about him and more an element of distaste for the circumstances of his birth. Since most mageborn tended to breed true, it was common for them to keep to themselves. Since all mageborn were the product of sorcery, there was a level of unease about them, since many sorcerers tried to program commands and certain behaviors or other methods of control into a mageborn's very genetics. The fact that many of them carried spell-grafts, some of which could activate under particular circumstances made mageborn a possible danger, even if that danger was often overstated by those too ignorant to separate the victims from the true villains.

  Even the idea that he might come under the influence of a sorcerer would be too much to risk, Christoffer knew. That was even assuming that Luthor Stachter wanted the title. He was notoriously anti-political and the two occasions where he and the other man had interacted, Christoffer had found him brusque and focused entirely upon his duties.

  With the deaths of Grand Duke Becket's immediate family, the Duchy of Boir's enemies had eliminated the best choices for the position, particularly with Lord Admiral Hennings' involvement. Hans Bacher was a scholar who didn't have the desire or temperament. Lady Miranda was married to the Marovingian heir... which made her unacceptable because it would cause dynastic issues. Lady Samantha was either captive or dead. Luthor Stachter was a mageborn and so would not be trusted to rule.

  The problem gave him a sharp headache. His own mother had been Amelia Bacher's first child, but she had been disowned by Grand Duke Andros when she married his father. That fact alone should disqualify him, he hoped. Even leaving aside my family's legacy, he thought darkly. Even so, he felt a moderate level of worry that the Council might see him as an option. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in Council meetings for the rest of his life.

  ***

  “My lord, there's a Merchant Schmidt, here to see you, he says he has a message for you,” Nikolas said.

  “Schmidt?” Christoffer asked. He hadn't expected any messengers and he didn't know any merchants by the name.

  “Yes, my Lord,” Nikolas said. “He's a trade captain whose ship works the Boir Sea. He has an... interesting story.” His steward looked uncertain, almost as if he didn't believe whatever the man had said.

  “Very well, send him in,” Christoffer said, after a nod at Siara who started to put up the latest round of reports.

  The man who came in was short and wiry, with the weathered skin that came from working the ocean in small craft for decades. Christoffer didn't miss the fact that Jenkins followed the man into the room and stood protectively to the side, ready to intervene in case his story was some ruse. Still, Schmidt looked the part, from his worn clothing and calloused hands to his nervous bow as he came to a halt. “Uh, my Lord...”

  “Admiral is fine,” Christoffer said quickly.

  “Yes, sir,” the man nodded. He paused, as if uncertain how to continue.

  “Tell me your story, Merchant Schmidt, and we'll go from there,” Christoffer said calmly.

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “Well, my ship works the shores of the Boir Sea, mostly the routes along from Redcoast in Masov and then down south to the Ryft and some of the villages there. We've got a shallow bottom so we can offload cargo in villages as don't have a proper dock.” He hesitated, “We might not be too particular about locating a customs man when we do it.”

  Christoffer nodded at that. That kind of thing wasn't too uncommon, particularly along the coasts. Many villages supported such smuggling, which let them augment their income from fishing. Christoffer didn't much care about any lost revenue. Smugglers were small in the grand scheme of things. He was certain that Jeroen Kurth, the Minister of Trade, would disagree, but he didn't plan to bring it to the other man's attention.

  “Well, we have a bit of trade set up with the Wold, been doing it for generations, since my great grandfather's time,” Schmidt said quickly. “He set up a pattern, dropping some goods on the beach on the edge of the Eastwood and then wait. They put some trade goods out, we go in, check them and offer a bit more or less depending on what it is...” he trailed off. “Probably our most profitable stop, they have a lot of goods most people want.”

  Christoffer waved a hand, he really didn't care about trade with the Wold. While it was interesting to note that their isolation wasn't complete, it had little to do with anything important.

  “Well, my Lord, uh, Admiral,” Schmidt said. “Well, they had something different this time. We went ashore to deliver the goods and this fellow came right out of the trees. My sons and I, we thought they decided we'd offended them or something and they were going to kill us...” the man shivered, clearly reliving the moment. Christoffer couldn't blame him, the stories of the Wold often bordered on nightmare. They were said to kill intruders on sight and that they had been imprisoned in the Eastwood as punishment for some crime committed against the Viani, long before the other races of men had arrived in Eoriel.

  “Well, this fellow just walks up to me, calm as can be and hands over a sealed letter,” Schmidt shook his head. “Then he says to me, 'Deliver this to Lord Admiral Christoffer Tarken and no one else, and you will be rewarded,' and he just turns around and walks away.”

  “He said my name?” Christoffer blinked at that. How in the name of his ancestors did a Wold know his name?

  “Yes, your lordship, clear as day, and I've never even heard one of them speak a word before,” Schmidt nodded. “I thought I was dreaming it all at that point. Then another dozen of them Wold came in and set their trade goods down and took ours, but they gave us extra, the payment, I think.” He licked his lips, “If you need to look the goods over...”

  Christoffer waved his hand, “If they paid you those as a reward, there's no need.” He extended his hand, “The letter?”

  The merchant pulled a thick parchment out of his tunic and passed it over. Christoffer examined the outside. It was, indeed, addressed specifically to him, the flowing script seemed familiar, the handwriting some he had seen before. The seal, however, was an odd crest, one he had never before seen. It was a finely detailed tree, flanked by a sword and a horn.

  “That's their King's crest, my Lord,” Schmidt said. “We see it sometimes whenever they give us a list for their nobility.”

  Christoffer nodded. He paused though, before he opened it. It might be a trap of some kind, but he didn't know why they would have gone to such elaborate effort to target him. “Master Schmidt, please wait outside. If this contains sensitive information, I'd prefer to keep it secret.”

 
The merchant's eyes widened, “Of course, my Lord, I want nothing to do with secrets. I'm just a sailor.” He backed out quickly, followed by a smirking Jenkins.

  Christoffer looked over as Siara started to rise as well, “You can stay, Siara.”

  She nodded and took her seat without reply. He didn't know why, but he wanted her here in case this odd message was important. It shocked him a bit to realize how much he valued her advice.

  Without further hesitation he pulled his dagger and sliced open the seal. He unfolded the heavy parchment and flipped it open. His heart, though, nearly stopped on the first word: Father. Christoffer felt his heart begin to race and his hands trembled a bit. He glanced to the bottom and felt a wave of relief sweep over him as he recognized his daughter's delicate signature. He recognized her handwriting now and he felt tears well up in his eyes. She's alive, he thought, almost overcome, thank the ancestors, my daughter is alive.

  “My Lord, are you alright, is it bad news?” Siara asked.

  Christoffer shook his head and he wiped at cheeks that were suddenly damp. “No, it is good news, the best. My daughter, Amelia, she's alive!. She survived the attack on the Citadel.”

  “How?” Siara asked, “How is it that she writes to you from the Wold? Did they kidnap her?”

  Christoffer shook his head, “I don't know, I can barely read, my hands are trembling too much.” He gave a nervous laugh and set the letter down. He forced himself to breathe and picked it up again. He read through the first section quickly enough, a bit of reassurance that she was in good health and that she wasn't a prisoner. The next section though, made him go pale. Again he found his hands trembling. This time, however, he forced himself to continue. The information in the final section was shocking as well, but of far less impact to him.

  Siara seemed to sense that he was troubled, “What is it?”

  “My son lives as well,” Christoffer said, his voice hoarse with emotion.