An Empire Of Traitors (Of Hate And Laughter Book 1)

by Enache, Serban Valentin Constantin

  The knights regarded him with dutiful faces. His lord uncle and lady mother, on the other hand, had queer expressions about them. Lady Olivia had still managed to make herself beautiful, despite the short notice. “Kalafar, my son, what’s happened in the south? Why have you summoned us at this early hour?”

  “Yes. Tell us what you’ve learned, nephew.”

  The ram curled his lips into somewhat of a smile. He rose from the chair and made a few steps toward the gathering. He found her with his gaze. “Lady Juni, come to me. Embrace me.” The girl did as he asked, and Kalafar pressed her warmly against his chest; he smelled her hair. Juni wasn’t prepared like his mother with cheek colours and perfumes. No. Her head smells true. It smells of oil. Then he whispered to her ear, “The conflict has missed Redgarden and your family is safe and sound.”

  Juni kissed him when she heard those words. She loves them, he thought to himself. And she loves me. It was a strange feeling to bear inside his heart so different a sentiment – to feel warmth and chill, love and hatred, truthfulness and deceit, wickedness and virtue. A wholeness of disunion...

  “For the sake of the gods,” his lady mother intervened. “Tell us what the big news is.”

  “Who were they?” Kalafar asked, as he bid Juni to seat herself on the chair. “Who were they? Those who accompanied my brother in that hunt, inside the Black Forest?”

  The ones gathered started muttering amongst themselves. Some shrugged, others grimaced, while the master at arms uttered the names. Weiyenor’s court did not grumble at Helga Brigadale’s words. “Sirs Falken Trent, Edwyn Watt, Peter Steinward, Tolbert Smallgrove, and several others of minor houses, my lord Sodomis.”

  Kalafar nodded. “And out of these knights, whom did my brother trust the most?”

  “He trusted me,” Falken Trent replied in a stern voice. “I was his favorite. And by the grace of the Father and Mothers, I’d give my life if that would bring him back.” The man’s voice wasn’t shaken by fear, nor by kind regret.

  But by duty. He is a fool, though. Arfaij’s favorite wasn’t him.

  The knight scowled at his liege and made a fist. “My lord, tell us the reasons behind these questions. Do not dance around your purpose – ”

  “Hold your tongue, Trent,” lord Alghernon cut him off in a rough voice. “Have you forgotten your place? To whom you are speaking?”

  The ram sighed, ignoring both sir Trent and his lord uncle. “Sir Smallgrove, sir Watt, you men have nothing to say?”

  The two knights went both to one knee, head bowed. “My liege, we have failed in our duty to protect your lord brother. But the reason for our failure had nothing to do with ill will, with treason...” Watt’s voice was trembling...

  Not out of fear, but out of shame.

  “If my liege deems otherwise, he is in error. I speak for both myself and sir Tolbert.” The venerable knight rose to his feet and locked Kalafar in his gaze – jaw held high and stern. “Cut off our heads, if you so choose. Your judgement is law. But the gods know the truth about us; and I am content with that.”

  “Aye,” sir Tolbert Smallgrove nodded in accord.

  Kalafar Sodomis smiled then a true smile; yet one devoid of any mirth. He appreciated the two souls for their reasoning. Sir Edwyn Watt was the hero of Bronze pass. And he thought the man too wise and proud to pledge himself to any conspiracy... let alone a plot against his own liege lord. There was nothing for him to profit. And as for Smallgrove, the man’s features betrayed several things, but none of those things resembled guilt. Nor fear of punishment.

  The ram eyed the lord steward with a solemn gaze; yet his own humours remained inscrutable. “All the world’s a stage,” he said carefully; measuring all souls gathered – then the warden’s voice caught fire and obvious meaning. “A stage for traitors...”

  Everyone was left staring wordless. Lord Alghernon approached him – one eyebrow frowned, the other arched. “Where are you going with this, nephew?”

  “’Tis a lesson from a good book; I’m sure you know it, uncle. Its words kept me awake and listening inside your keep; so that my assassin failed in his attempt against me. Under night’s shroud do all blades sing without voice, no?”

  “Assassin!?” Alghernon spat. “In mine own fasthold!? Demons beneath us!”

  His lady mother was left incredulous, and all of them present in the hall demanded to know the plotter’s name. Kalafar made a fist. And once again, he could feel the blood boiling within his veins – though, his mind was cooled by one notion alone. “The plotter is the same man who had my brother killed... Peter Steinward was sworn to our own house. And though the good knight has vanished in the Black Forest; he is still alive and well, I imagine.” And like him, I know Arfaij is alive as well. Either by miracle or sorcery, my brother’s heart still beats. Kalafar wouldn’t dare tell them that. They would think him mad. Werewolves do exist. He had been one in his dreams; and the beast had been so familiar, as if they were kindred souls.

  Right now, all he wanted was justice. No. Not justice, but retribution. “Prepare yourselves,” he continued, “for two things... First of all, a wedding before this day’s end. And second... send word to all my vassals that no betrayer is safe, not even behind walls of stone and iron gates. The ram with its horns and fiery hooves – my wrath – will descend upon them, swift and terrible, armed and hellbent for vengeance. Autumn’s harvest is over. We are going to war!” Those last words he uttered with a fire on his tongue.

  “War!?” Alghernon Sodomis shouted, eyes wide open. “Against whom!?”

  “The lord of Herron’s Keep, Holton Brax...” The ram’s will was unopposable; his humours kindled by the righteous warmth of hate.

  ******

  Thank you kindly for reading all the way through.

  The following is a sample chapter from the 2nd Of Hate And Laughter book, A Heretical Divide. But before that, here’s how to connect with me online. And also please consider leaving a review for this book and subscribe to my blog for the upcoming novels in the series.

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  Sample chapter from the 2nd OHAL book, A Heretical Divide

  Tobias

  It was nightfall, and the streets were busy with drunkards and prostitutes. He was acting on rumor, chasing the whereabouts of Hagyai’s son and his Aharo wench. A tedious task for a lord who didn’t shy away from bad business – work. Another aid for that ungrateful bastard of an emperor. Though the dog-headed serpent displayed high spirits in front of the high lords, his true mood was one of discontent. Tobias was not at all happy with his rewards after Amarius Mero took the Sun Throne. And the death of his liege lord, Erasmus Verwick, was even worse.

  The succession to Findar’s Keep was still being debated between those who laid claim to it. Oh, fate be damned. Conflict after conflict, and no fucking pay for the humble lord Findley. Only a yearly pension of one hundred sovereigns. Verwick, you wretch... you promised me a great plenty to squeeze. But your words were dust in the wind.

  The city guard under lord Lukanus had searched the whole of Sun’s Helm, and had no luck in finding Hagyai’s sprout. And the spymaster, lady Ambrielle, offered no true help; only dead ends, false trails. Tobias suspected the woman didn’t want the prince to be found in the first place. So why keep her in that office? He thought about what reasons Soronius Mero might have for leaving the fair lady of Hornwood where she was. He failed to conceive of any good ones outside whim.

  But while the rest of the world had its spies, so did he. Before buying his seat at Stoneweed, Tobias Findley had formed numerous ties with merchants, money lenders, as well as guildsmen. And all those familiar ties gave him some piece of knowledge to act upon. It led him to a familiar place, a minor b
rothel in Greytown. If indeed the prince would turn up inside the establishments of a vassal, that soul would be made to suffer the punishments of treason. The fat frog of Greytown, Madrick Highwater, had sent one of his sons to help on the mission. Fat chance of that.

  “Are you sure about the location, sir Findley?” The young Edrick Highwater inquired with distrust. It wasn’t the first time the whelp posed such a question.

  Tobias rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I have few certainties in this life, boy. Death is one of them. And it’s lord, not sir.” The dog-headed serpent gave him a toothy grin. “Stop thinking about your father’s fears, and concentrate on what we’re doing. Better yet, just keep your mouth shut and your hood low.”

  The establishment they sought was near a gambling den. The people were waging their moneys on cock fights, drinking their cheap brews. They were so assiduous in their pleasure, so eager to enjoy the little things in life. Those small games which made their often cruel existence bearable. Fortune mixed with drink; fortune mixed with laughter. But without anticipation and temperance, fortune devoured fools. One of the sods was actually a priest posing in traveler’s clothes. He was betting very quietly and he was winning. Don’t do what the preacher does, only what he says.

  Such hypocrisies always made him chuckle. But his musing was cut short when his party entered the whorehouse. For such a loud and busy corner of Greytown, this place was awfully quiet. Morose even, thought Tobias. Between stairways and corners, there were a few pair of shoulders that acted as guards. But against the dog-headed serpent’s armored and bladed retinue, they were of no threat. No patron was waiting for his whore, and thus they were greeted straight away by the brothel’s owner.

  “Welcome, fine gentlemen. And what is it I can do for you?” A man round of girth, with a bald head and clean plump face voiced his warm welcome. His fine garments were gold and orange, made of silk and smelled of incense. There was a feminine aspect to his features, and his voice sounded... unmanly.

  A eunuch perchance. Still, hardly relevant for my concerns. “My good, ahem... man... we’re searching for a young boy, a very special one.” The dog-headed serpent made no effort to introduce himself by title and rank; Tobias disdained such formalities. Even more so because he was acting in the quality of a thug or ruffian – not that of a proper eastern lord. Rumor traveled quickly in small places; and he had no reason to add to their alacrity.

  “Oh, you’ve come to the right place,” said the brothel master. “I just brought in a fresh stock of such lovely creatures. Are you all looking for the same treat? If so, then you’ll have to wait your turns. I haven’t enough for all of you at once. However, my pleasure-makers are more than able to handle... say... three of you at the same time. Just be gentle with them; their delicate skin pricks easily.”

  In that moment, Tobias pulled out his dirk and raised the tip of the blade to his own chin. With that gesture, he smiled a wicked smile. “You misunderstand, good sir. We’re not here for pleasure; we’re here in service to our sovereign. We’re searching for his majesty’s nephew, prince Yoffis. Now stand aside and let us do our duty.” Tobias pushed the man out of the way, and ordered his swords to scour the rooms.

  Edrick Highwater tried to calm the eunuch, explaining to him the nature of their business. The lord of rocks, however, cared nothing of it. He was too busy slashing curtains, disturbing the busy patrons and their whores in the adjacent chambers, keeping an eye upon the brothel’s servants. And tapping the walls for anything out of place, for any shallow brick. Knowledge, jewels, and coin were things to keep secret, things to keep locked and hidden from prying eyes.

  In their quick and violent search, they came to see what was happening behind frail curtains and cramped rooms... Whores busy with many a cock in both hands and mouth; hungry patrons with their tongues between cunt lips. Flesh pressed against flesh in ritual mating for the sheer pleasure of it – only to be interrupted by the brutal presence of his hired hands; blades free to cut and shouts made to daunt.

  “Come out. Come out, wherever you are.” Whispered Tobias, as he went about from room to room, from floor to floor. He trusted in his spiders for they feared him... The lord of Stoneweed wasn’t called the lord of rocks for nothing. And since the knowledge about this place came from some other mouths than the usual ones in the spymaster’s employ, Tobias thought the odds good enough. His confidence grew when he discovered the only locked doors of the whorehouse.

  “That is mine own chamber,” the eunuch protested. “There I keep my records, the revenue, and sleep my nights. I’ve told you, I hold no runaway prince under my roof!”

  The dog-headed serpent gave a twist of the mouth, unimpressed with the man’s objections. “Unlock the door, sir. Or I’ll smash it down. Your choice; make it quickly.”

  “My lord, you are mistaken. Please – ”

  “Too late. Men, bring it down.”

  And in a moment, the doors were forced open from lock to hinges; and there it was... Another disappointment. Tobias let out a sigh of frustration. But as he turned his gaze upon the nearest pleasure chamber, he saw a pair of familiar eyes. Well, I’ll be damned. Two whores were holding each other in arms, afraid of the chaos about them, afraid of his armed henchmen. The tanned skin whore was absolutely terrified, but the white girl wasn’t. Hah, she remembers me. He approached the women with small steps; all the while his memories coming back to him.

  Recalling those days of youth, Tobias grinned. “I was hoping to find a prince. Instead I find a sister. How is fortune treating you, dear Emily? Lots of coin, I hope...”

  She tried to open her mouth, but she failed to utter any words. The woman shivered. Most likely she wasn’t cold, even though she scarcely had any clothes upon her skin. Instead, she tightened her embrace around her brothel partner and said nothing.

  Tobias pushed the tanned skin girl away, and grabbed his sister by the arm. He made sure his grip was firm; but not firm enough to wound and scar. “Come, sis, you do remember me. Be at ease. I’m not here for you. I’m here for tales and rumors. And where better to acquire them than a brothel?” He confessed his purpose, that he was searching for prince Yoffis and his Aharo wench. That his actions were sanctioned by the Sun Throne; by Soronius Mero himself. And upon hearing such a thing, her eyes seemed to sparkle with relief, as if he had hit the right cord of an instrument of music.

  “Yes,” Emily said in a fearful tone. “Yes, brother. I can help you with your search. But it will cost you. I have to live, as well...”

  “Oh, I wasn’t expecting terms, judging by your quivering. Though, I shouldn’t be surprised. Us Findleys were always good tradesmen, even in the face of adversity.” But some of us didn’t know when to be humble and when not to. “How does a small pouch of coppers sound?” Tobias removed it from his belt and put the thing in her hands.

  His sister weighed it carefully, and nodded in agreement. “Her... she’s the one you want.” Emily pointed a stern finger at the other woman, the one with tanned skin. “To her the prince was betrothed. She’s not of Aharo blood; and she’s a maiden no longer.”

  “You filthy bitch!” The other one snapped at the betrayal in an outlandish accent. “You promised! You swore by the gods!”

  Tobias had no patience to hear women bickering. So he pulled out his dirk and called for silence. As he studied the tanned girl, the supposed fraud of an Aharo maiden, Iyleen, Tobias curled his lips into a smile. His eyes liked what he saw. The girl was young and fair. A true beauty. No wonder Rovines approved of her without circumspection. “Dear sister, I thank you.” As he said those words, Tobias offered his hand to the false betrothed. She took it meekly, afraid.

  What followed next was the necessary questioning of the brothel owner. The plump eunuch seemed at a loss. He was shaking his head violently, and uttering all manner of words to defend his innocence. The fool is damning himself with every protest he makes, Tobias said to himself, amused by the scene. His henchmen seated the eunuch at a table,
and they posed him questions – who, when, what, where, and why. Naturally, a modest amount of torture was necessary to loosen the man’s tongue.

  While this was happening, Edrick Highwater assisted with a worrisome frown and tight lip. The only one who seemed to enjoy himself was the lord of Stoneweed. He was pleased with the fruits of this night’s labor. He had found Iyleen, and the emperor would surely reward him in adequate measure. Eh, that is wishful thinking. What Soronius Mero wants is the prince; not this outlandish girl. Still, Tobias had learned something new. The betrothal had been a farce. Someone had made a fool out of them all, especially out of Hagyai Rovines. He judged that the emperor’s ears would welcome such news. And mayhaps, translate into better fortunes for Stoneweed and I.

  “The warden,” said the eunuch through pain and fear. “It was the warden, the warden of the Eastlands. His creatures perpetrated the falsehood. I merely followed the commands of my liege lord. I had no knowledge of any wrong doing. I didn’t know the emperor would betroth his son to one of my girls of foreign stock. Please! Please...” The eunuch cried. “Do not kill me. Please... I beg of you.”

  Such perverse trickery, Tobias mused. Verwick, you were truly deserving of the title archtraitor. A pity fate ordained your recent demise. I could have learned much from you. “Good man, abandon your tears. You are not worthy to suffer death at my hands. You’ve perpetrated a vile sin against the former emperor. But a new monarch stands upon the Sun Throne, and his majesty is diligent as well as merciful.”

  Having obtained the eunuch’s confession and the false Aharo maiden, Tobias and his retinue left the brothel not as they found it. A good night’s work this was.