The Consuls of the Vicariate

by Brian Kittrell

  A knock on the door broke his train of thought. He sprang out of bed, opened the door, and saw Valyrie standing in the darkened hall outside.

  “I was wondering if I could come see you for a while,” Valyrie said.

  He opened the door the rest of the way. “Certainly. Come in.”

  “I’m anxious about the journey,” she said. “I’ve traveled with Da before, but never outside the country.”

  “It’s nothing major,” Laedron said, closing the door behind her. “I can see why you might be nervous. I was nervous when we left Sorbia. But the feeling will pass.”

  “I’m glad that you think so. The churning of my stomach says otherwise.”

  “It’ll pass. Trust me.”

  She smiled. “You’re having trouble sleeping again?”

  “You can tell?” he asked, letting out a laugh.

  “We could talk for a while if you want. Maybe that will help.”

  Laedron was willing to try anything, so he nodded. “Do you think the war—”

  “I’d rather speak personally.” She sat beside him. “We’ve all talked at length about the war and the Drakars. I would prefer a change.”

  “All right.”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “Tell me about Ismerelda.”

  “Ismerelda?”

  “Surely you know of whom I speak.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. She was an Uxidin and a gifted sorceress. Taught me much of what I know of magic.”

  “Could you describe her to me? I’d like to get a mental picture of her.”

  “Fair skin and slender, long golden hair, and a remarkable beauty. Centuries old, yet eternally youthful.” He tried to remember her the way he’d seen her in the boarding house in Morcaine. “She always had a close eye to detail, and she spoke, walked, and dressed as a noble would.”

  “Did you desire her?” Valyrie asked.

  Laedron tried to swallow the massive lump in his throat. “What do you mean?”

  “Plainly, did you want her?”

  “I… well, I…” He had seen that look in another woman’s eyes. It matched a gaze his mother had given him before, and it always resulted in silence and stuttering until Laedron finally came clean with the truth. “I did have an attraction, but it could not have been. Though she appeared young, she was far older than I was. Though I felt a physical attraction, I would never have pursued anything with her.”

  “Had she been younger, would you have considered it?”

  Laedron shook his head. “Why speculate on things that do not matter?”

  “I only ask to understand you better.”

  “Very well,” Laedron said, sighing. “If she’d been younger, I still wouldn’t have tried for her hand.”

  “Why?”

  “For starters, we were too different, and knowing that she was Uxidin, our life together would have been riddled with confusion and hardships. Uxidin are immortal, Val; I would have grown old and died while she would have remained young and beautiful forever. A long, cruel torture for both of us. Now, will you tell me why you ask?”

  “I worry.”

  “What about?”

  “I’ve grown close to you, but strange things are happening to you. My book tells of strange rituals, and it’s unsettling.”

  “What does your question have to do with that though?”

  “Jurgen’s spell restored your body—made you perfect, in fact—and you’ve not been able to sleep at all. What if the spell has done more than that?”

  “Plainly, Val,” Laedron said. “Tell me what truly concerns you.”

  “Just what you said. If his spell has made you immortal, then what concern would you have for me? How could we be together if you had to watch me grow old?”

  “Nonsense. Your book never said I would live forever.”

  “Not all things are written in books,” she said, a tear dripping from her eye. “I feel like everything and everyone I care about will be snatched away. Just like the story of Azura and Tristan, a forbidden love that was never to be, a love destroyed by immortality and that awful torment of which you spoke.”

  “It won’t happen like that.”

  “How can you be so sure? You said it yourself. One of us ages; the other does not. A cruel torture?”

  Laedron grabbed her by the shoulders. “We need not get ahead of ourselves. No need to worry yourself over questions to which we do not have the answers.” His words apparently having little effect, she continued to sob until he said, “We’ll find a way.”

  “What do you mean?” She wiped her face with her sleeve.

  He thought about what Marac had said, especially the part about knowing for sure if it would work with a woman before committing to anything permanent. Looking into her face, Laedron saw the woman he loved. The fire behind her eyes gave him a glimpse of the fighting they would do in the years to come, but he didn’t care because when he held her close, he knew that the tears flowing down her cheeks would wash away his mistakes. He knew that, regardless of what happened, he wanted to be near her for the rest of his days, as long or as short as they might be. Laedron resolved that he would always give it his all.

  “Whatever may come, we shall find a way to get through it. This is no different.”

  She reached for him. He took her in a tight embrace and didn’t let go until morning.

  « Table of Contents

  ← Chapter Twenty-One | Chapter Twenty-Three →

  Order Restored

  After another night without sleep, Laedron roused Valyrie from her slumber, and they joined the others in the common room.

  “Good news,” Jurgen said.

  “Yes?”

  “The consuls have come to the conclusion that we have been too harsh on our Shimmering Dawn chapter.” Jurgen opened a scroll and read aloud, “Be it known to all that the Order of the Knights of the Shimmering Dawn, having shown bravery, courage, and loyalty to our prosperity and safety, shall be reinstated to the highest place of honor. Be it further recorded that the Heraldan chapter of the order shall henceforth enjoy the status of Most Holy, and it and its membership shall forevermore be protected by this declaration.”

  “That sounds good, I suppose,” Brice said, then turned to Laedron. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  Marac rolled his eyes, and Laedron chuckled and said, “Yes, that’s a very good thing. It means Master Piers and your friend Caleb will be well taken care of in our absence.”

  Piers could hardly contain his excitement. “Thank you, Vicar Jurgen. You’re very kind to have pressed them on our behalf.”

  “It was the only proper thing to do after the way you and yours have been treated,” Jurgen replied, offering his hand. “Besides, I wasn’t forced to press them too harshly. They are well aware of your good deeds and your dedication. One other thing.” Jurgen glanced around at the common hall. “Beyond the status, possession of the Shimmering Dawn citadel is restored to your keeping, Master Piers.”

  “The citadel, too? Oh, this is wondrous news. I shall gather my men, and we’ll be off as quick as a flash.” Piers jogged toward the hall, then stopped and turned. “As for this place, the church may keep it. Make it a place of charity and community, for the betterment of the people.”

  Jurgen smiled as Piers left. “I’m thankful for you, Sorcerer.”

  “Thankful for me?” Laedron asked. “I’ve accomplished little compared to you.”

  “Without you, I would have abandoned this land to the iron grip of the Drakars. The war would have lasted years, and the theocracy would likely have been destroyed completely. You and your friends instilled in me the will to do what is right. For that, and for you, I am thankful.”

  What a strange position I find myself in, Laedron thought. I have helped to save the same church that not long ago would have seen me dead.

  “You’re welcome,” Laedron said, giving Jurgen a grin.

  Jurgen approached the door. “Ready yourselves for the morrow, my friends. We shall
revel in your triumph and honor you. Oh, and one other thing.” Jurgen tossed a small leather sack, and Laedron caught it. “Visit a tailor and tell him you need something to wear for the ceremony. Keep the difference for whatever else you may need.” Then, he left.

  Piers returned with a crate in his arms and a pack on his back. “Care to come with us?”

  Laedron nodded. “Of course. Let us get our things.”

  * * *

  Piers led Caleb and his men through the streets, and Laedron had never seen him in a more pleasant mood. Every street corner they passed seemed to instill more confidence in Piers until they arrived at a massive stone structure topped by a silver metallic dome.

  “This is it,” Piers said. “Our old headquarters, our headquarters once again at long last.”

  Along the exterior, carvings of the mark of the Order of the Shimmering Dawn were prominently displayed. Two huge oaken doors stood at the entrance, and they had been left standing open. Entering the great hall, Laedron passed a number of militia soldiers. Beyond the troops, he noticed exquisitely vibrant tapestries, which matched the thick runner laid along the center of the floor. He tried to recall if even the Westmarch keep, the primary headquarters of the order, could match the splendor of the place.

  “They left it intact. No, they even made a few repairs,” Piers said, glancing around. He set down his crate and pointed. “Remember the crack at the top of that column? It’s gone.”

  Caleb nodded. “Seems they’ve fixed the holes in the dome, too. Not a beam of light coming through.”

  “I wonder…” Piers ran to the back. Laedron and the others struggled to keep up.

  Piers flung a door wide, and Laedron peered over his shoulder. With gleaming armor and weapon stands abounding, the room clearly housed the order’s arms.

  Entering the room, Piers exhibited a wide grin. “We shall be able to restore ourselves to our former glory and equip our members properly. Today is a great day indeed.”

  “You’ll be more careful this time, won’t you?” Laedron asked.

  “What are you inferring?”

  “Only that a traitor got in, that’s all. Are you forgetting Lester?”

  Piers’s eyes shifted shamefully. “Taking in Lester and some of the others we wouldn’t have normally was a matter of necessity. With many of our men jailed or slain, we had to replenish our numbers. Aside from that, yes. We will take far better care in the future.”

  “Good. I would hate to see you undone by the likes of another like Lester. For men like that, only an appropriate amount of gold would stand between you and a knife in your back.”

  “Point taken,” Piers said, “but let us not swim in the mistakes of the past.”

  Laedron nodded. “Very well. Are we invited to stay until we leave?”

  Piers tilted his head. “Of course. I would never deny my brothers in arms. The residences are on the second and third floors, and you have your pick of living spaces until you leave. We won’t begin recruiting for days yet, and we’ll be sending news abroad for traveling knights.”

  “Traveling knights?” Marac asked.

  “The Heraldan chapter prefers a good mix of nationalities in our number. It keeps us from being dominated too heavily in favor of one religion or political standing, and the Dawn Knights must remain loyal to themselves above all others.”

  “I think the place is in good hands,” Laedron said, patting Piers on the shoulder. “You’ve seen the order through some rough times, and I can see you leading your chapter through the flames of the hells, no matter how hot.”

  “Thank you, Sorcerer.” Piers looked past them when more men entered from the main door. “If you’ll excuse me, we have things to attend.”

  Laedron watched Piers go over to the newcomers, and said, “Let’s visit our new lodgings. Then we should go visit a tailor like Jurgen recommended.”

  “What sort of clothes do you think he’ll prefer us to wear?” Brice asked.

  Laedron shrugged, then opened the leather pouch Jurgen had given him. His jaw dropped when he saw the contents: two coins stamped with the Azuran Star and the words, “Platinum One,” repeated around the perimeter.

  “What’s in there?” Marac asked.

  Laedron slowly shook his head. In Sorbia, minted coins made of platinum were a myth, a fable told to young children to flood their minds with amazement and awe. Rumors abounded that the Sorbian treasury possessed such coins, and no one other than the king could be allowed to enter that forbidden chamber. To Laedron, platinum coins lay at the base of any nation’s wealth, and they were never used in trading.

  Taking the coin from the pouch, Laedron held it up for their inspection.

  “Well, that answers that,” Marac said. “Either he doesn’t expect much from us or you can get some nice clothing for a silver piece in these parts.”

  “No.” Laedron held the coin closer to Marac’s eye. “Platinum.”

  Brice gasped, then he and Valyrie crowded close around Laedron’s hand.

  “He gave us a whole platinum to get clothes?” Marac asked.

  Laedron pulled out the other coin. “Two.”

  “Two!” Brice yelled, hardly able to contain himself. For a moment, Laedron thought Brice might faint from the sudden excitement.

  Piers glanced back at them, apparently alerted by Brice’s loudness, and Laedron hid the coins back in the pouch. I can’t trust even Piers to know that we now possess two whole platinum coins, regardless of our relationship.

  “Quiet, you,” Laedron whispered, glaring at Brice. “We don’t want anyone finding out that we’re carrying two platinum pieces. Do you know how much these are worth?”

  “Of course. They’re worth two platinums.” Marac nudged Laedron and laughed.

  Laedron rolled his eyes, and Marac said, “Oh, Lae, you should’ve seen your face. You were awfully serious.”

  “And for good reason. Never mind.” Laedron tucked the pouch into his waistband. “Let’s find a tailor. Know of any, Val?”

  “For that kind of money? Only the Best.”

  “Yes, but where?”

  “Only the Best.”

  Laedron blinked his eyes rapidly. “Yes, but where?”

  “That’s the name of the place. Only the Best is where.”

  He sighed. “All right. Take us there, then.”

  * * *

  Well, she didn’t lie . Laedron studied the ornate placard in front of the tailor’s shop. Judging by the people walking in and out of the establishment, he reckoned that the business had earned its namesake because only those with deep pockets utilized the service.

  Upon entering, they were immediately eyed by a man behind the counter. The portly man’s walk was more of a waddle as he approached, his fat finger outstretched at them. “If you’re looking for a privy, we have none for the public. Best see your way out the way you came.”

  “Is this how you treat all of your customers?” Laedron asked.

  The man scoffed and tried to keep his measuring tape from falling off his shoulder. “I have no time for games, young fellow. Can you not see that I am busy? Now, see your way out.”

  “I was told that you were the finest tailor in Azura. I suppose we’ll have to bring our platinum elsewhere.”

  “Platinum?” The man shook his head, looking at their clothing. “The likes of you with a platinum? I think not. Quit wasting my time.”

  Laedron produced the coin. “I suppose you lost out on a sale, my good man. Let’s go.”

  “Wait, wait, wait! Don’t be so hasty,” the tailor said, waving his hands. “I’m busy, but I can take orders. Come, come.” He returned to the counter.

  Laedron grinned, then relaxed his face when the man turned around.

  “So, my good people…” The tailor opened a ledger. “By when would you require your clothing?”

  “Tonight,” Laedron replied.

  “Impossible.”

  “Impossible? Then we must find somewhere else to go.”


  “Wait, please. Let me explain.”

  Laedron folded his arms. “If you’re too busy, then we must seek our wares at another shop. No amount of explaining will change that.”

  “I’m busy with alterations. Don’t you see?” The tailor gestured at the numerous mannequins standing around the room. “There shall be a ceremony tomorrow, and all of my customers are vying to get their best suits altered in a hurry.”

  “What sort of ceremony?”

  “Why, the consulship has announced an end to the war, and they have released this paper here. They’ve gotten the whole city in an uproar.”

  The man slid a poster across the counter, and Laedron read it aloud.

  To All Citizens of Azura,

  Your Holy Consulship Commands your Respect at a Ceremony to Honor Heroes and Celebrate the Peace. Respond Ye to your Steward with Haste and Reserve your Place.

  The Azuran Star with vines and flowers appeared below the inscription, and the bottom of the poster contained details of the ceremony and the following feast.

  “Then, you had better get your needle and thread ready, friend,” Laedron said, returning the poster. “We are the heroes of which this notice speaks.”

  “You?” the man asked, his chubby face filled with surprise.

  “Yes. Think of it, if you will. All of Azura was present to witness… what’s your name?”

  “Manfred. Manfred Shoffe… well, Manny is fine.”

  “All of Azura was present to witness Manny Shoffe’s fine garments draping the backs of the heroes who saved us in our darkest of times,” Laedron said, gesturing grandly for effect. Manny clasped his hands and peered upward as if seeing the possibilities.

  When he could see a stack of gold sovereigns behind the tailor’s eyes, Laedron asked, “You think you’re busy now? Imagine the patronage you might receive after such a claim.”

  “All right, all right,” Manny said, snatching the tape from his shoulder. “I’ll fix you up fine. I don’t have time to make anything from scratch, but you’re all lean enough to fit some of my back stock.”