“Then Arthan should give it,” Alfrem said, surprising Arthan and everyone else. “History is full of kings who seized the wealth of their vassals because they considered rich heirs to be potential competitors. As long as Erech is on the throne, he should view Arthan as an indispensable and trustworthy ally, not a threat. Maillard and his forefathers did the same, as the Valients and Avaleaus have long been allies. Furthermore, the Valients’ status as former royalty demands the spigot stays open to keep the favor of the people.”
“If war comes, the king will demand every coin,” Medoff said.
“And we’ll adjust our position at that time,” Alfrem said.
“Will three chests of gold suffice for a tribute, wise alderman?” Arthan asked.
“Quite.”
“Very well. Now, I see you still have a stack of parchments.”
“A few letters, my lord, from your lesser vassals who could not attend your father’s burial. Regrets and well wishes and professions of loyalty. A few seek your favor or forgiveness for petty things, which is common after the death of a lord. Others propose various political alliances or request support for others. There are also letters from various Austveede border barons. Your counts and the countess can handle most of these. But this letter is from the heir-apparent lord minister of Wallevet. Edmond Reimvick, Raymond’s younger brother.”
Alfrem handed the letter to Arthan and he read.
Lord Arthan Valient,
My deepest condolences to you and your brothers for the unexpected loss of your father. My brothers and I lost our father to similar violence when we were your age. Know that whether I am confirmed as your neighboring lord minister or not, you may always count me among your loyal friends. Like Raymond, I knew your father well and cherished his wisdom and friendship. May he rest in peace.
I will be traveling to Eglamour for the royal confirmation, as I presume you will be. I propose we travel together to get to better know each other. As you know, your shortest road to Eglamour is via my capital, Bredahade. I would be honored for you to accompany me and exchange news about the royal court and the effects of the Empire Alliance’s fall.
I hope you will accept my invitation, and I look forward to serving the Crown beside you in these uncertain times.
Most Respectfully,
Lord Edmond Reimvick
Bredahade
Arthan passed the letter around for the others to read. “Well?”
“I say accept his invitation,” Alfrem said. “Like his late brother, Reimvick is a well-respected and knowledgeable, if gossipy, man. He is not shy with his probing questions and loves a tasty new rumor, but he should be among your allies in the king’s court. You can learn a lot from him.”
“I cannot stand the man and his prying demeanor,” Medoff said, cringing. “He should be called the Queen’s Royal Neb.”
“Fortunately, you don’t have to stomach him,” Alfrem said. “That is Arthan’s task.”
“Very well,” Arthan said with a smile. “Please arrange for a messenger to go ahead of us to accept his invitation.”
---
As Arthan’s advisers departed he motioned for Serdot to stay behind. Serdot closed the door.
“Why, when they asked if you could explain Marlan’s calling himself ‘an ancient flame,’ did you glance at Alfrem and say ‘not yet’?”
Serdot smiled. “I was hoping you’d catch that. I was trying to pressure the alderman into talking, but you were too polite to call him out in front of everyone.”
“Talk about what?”
“Alfrem is sworn to silence about something until the right time.”
“When? And by whom?”
“I cannot speak about it, my lord.”
“If I am your lord, you must speak of it. And how did you learn of it if he is sworn?”
“I know more than he knows, simply because I was in the service of your father. But it is Alfrem’s place to tell you.”
“Tell me what, Serdot?”
Serdot wiped the smile off his face. “I’m sorry, my lord. This is the only secret I will ever keep from you, because it is not my place to tell. When the time comes, you will understand. This is the way your father wanted it.”
“My father…”
“Please excuse me. I must prepare for our travel to the capital.”
Arthan stepped out of the way and the widsemer departed. Arthan could not imagine why Maillard would keep a secret from him, a secret Alfrem was tasked with keeping. Serdot was supposed to be the dealer of secrets. He wondered if it had anything to do with his inheritance, which Alfrem alone was entrusted with handling.
He shook the curiosity from his mind as best he could. He knew Maillard had chosen trustworthy men to surround him. Arthan needed to focus on his visit to the royal court. He stepped toward the door and saw Meriam approaching. She clasped her hands anxiously.
“I don’t have time for this,” he said.
“I heard you would probably be leaving. I wanted to wish you safe travel.”
“Thank you, Meriam. I’m…” Arthan wanted to say he was sorry, but he was not sure why. He’d seen her only briefly since Mordmerg and knew she’d like to see him more. He wanted that too, but he could not find the right time. “Meriam, I…”
“Just be careful,” she said. “I’ll be here, waiting for your return.”
PART II: ARCANAE
29. RODEL
Eglamour, Toulon Ministry
Flowertide, 3034
“You’ve returned just in time, Rodel.”
“For what?”
“New orders from Heingartmer,” Wredegar said, holding up a letter. “Emperor Theudamer wants us to determine who killed the Donovard lord ministers. He wants to know whether the assassins are someone we can harness for our own ends.”
“Since when have the Wosmoks become magistrates in a foreign land?”
“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Wredegar said. “You know I’d rather be at the head of an honorable army marching across Donovan than skulking around this cursed kingdom in rags and without honor.”
That stung Rodel. Wredegar was right, of course, and it had long bothered him.
“You know what I mean,” Wredegar said. “I’m not a natural widsemer like you and the other Wosmoks. This work is not befitting my House of Auftengardin. We’re meant to be the right hands of emperors, not shadow-cloaked thieves and assassins. Alas, Theudamer gave me command, since Garentorf is dead.”
Wredegar did not seem to lament Garentorf’s death as Rodel did. All Wosmok deaths affected him. Wasted lives, yet Rodel wanted nothing to do with them. Not anymore.
“What now, then?” Rodel asked, sitting in a chair that was completely in tatters. He hated Vesamune’s cellar. She lived in opulence above while the Wosmoks were always hidden far below.
“We’re to wait here until some Wosmoks from Austveeden, led by Etzel, arrive to assist us. I’d like to go at once to Wallevet Ministry, since Raymond’s death was the first, but we’re ordered to stay in Eglamour for now.”
Rodel fiddled with a string unstitching from the chair arm. Wallevet. That was where he’d met that eccentric one-armed man, Arasemis. He still thought it peculiar that Arasemis did not seem distraught over the death of his brother, Raymond. Rodel considered telling Wredegar about Arasemis but kept his mouth shut as Wredegar continued his rant against the emperor’s orders.
“Are you listening to me?” Wredegar asked. “What’s distracting you?”
“I’m listening.”
“We’ll request to start in Wallevet instead of staying here in Eglamour. How else do they expect us to—”
“I’d rather not see that river again,” Rodel said.
Wredegar nodded with a smirk. “As Wosmoks, we’ve seen worse…”
“You’ll return to your lands and titles after all this,” Rodel said after a moment. “Most Wosmoks die in foreign lands, like at the river…
”
“But it’s an honor to serve as a Wosmok, doing the things the knights and ambassadors can’t. That’s why we’re named after the ancient Raffen word for ghost. Wosmoks stay hidden, silent. It’s honorable to—”
“No it’s not. You said as much.”
“What’s gotten into you, Rodel? We’ve served together for years.”
Rodel turned away. From the corner of his eye he saw Wredegar straighten up before speaking formally.
“As your commander, I order you to shake off whatever is souring your mind. We nearly drowned, yes, and there’s nothing we can do about Garentorf and the rest. We have our orders, magistrate work though it seems. But you know it will be different soon. Donovan is on the cusp of falling apart. Can’t you feel it?”
Rodel nodded absently, fiddling with the chair’s frayed stitching again.
“Good,” Wredegar said. “Then cast off that dark mood that’s grabbed you.”
---
Rodel could not sleep. He could not cast it off. And he could not stay any longer. He quietly got out of bed, taking his dagger and hooded cloak. Wredegar breathed steadily as he took the stairs.
Sneaking up into Vesamune’s residence and out a window was routine. Her guards were either lazy or too used to the fact that shadowy figures often came and went from her home. Rodel took no provisions; he knew how to live off the land.
Outside, the spring night was fresh and clear. He considered the possibility that leaving could be a mistake but he tried not to care. He knew the Wosmoks and how they operated. He would notice if they came to hunt him down. They might not bother, given the pace of change in the kingdom. And Wredegar would not readily soil his reputation by reporting a deserter under his new command.
Rodel looked forward to the countryside again. And to seeing Arasemis’s Thorendor Castle perched high in the hills of Wallevet.
30. MARLAN
Thorendor Castle, Wallevet Ministry
Flowertide, 3034
Marlan stared down into the barrel, his eyes fixed on the soaking blade. It had darkened considerably in the past few days. The sachets of stones fixed at the barrel’s lip were now empty, having completely dissolved in the solution.
“The blade is nearly black now,” he said when he found Arasemis. The master was reading a letter at his great writing table and did not look up. Marlan waited a few moments before trying again. “I think my sword is almost ready.”
Arasemis finally looked up. “There is one more step in the treatment process.”
Marlan could see he was distracted. “News?”
“No, a letter from a friend.” Arasemis handed the letter to him. Marlan took it carefully, as the master rarely let his students read his correspondence.
A,
I wish to inform you that Lord Minister Valient, the new one, will likely be visiting Bredahade soon. He must go to Eglamour to receive the king’s confirmation and Bredahade is his shortest route.
You will no doubt see this as an opportunity. I strongly urge you not to attack him on the road. If you do, you’ll bring too much attention to your location. It’s best if you stay at Thorendor while Valient travels, and stay quiet.
Separately, I received your letter about your current task. I wish you had informed me about your plans to kill Raymond earlier. I think I deserved—and had a right—to know, though I do appreciate the rewards his death has brought. I also would have liked to have known about Maillard. Nevertheless, I would caution you to take your time and not be hasty. If you change things too quickly we’ll not have the chance to seize the advantage.
Finally, I wish that you would spend less time on aerina and chemina, and more time on unlocking the mythic machines. That is the future; you’ve only to look eastward to Calbria to see that. Teaching your pupils to run up trees and boil gourd warts will only get us so far. But airships, now that is something in the old tales that would be worth all this effort.
E
Marlan returned the letter. “Who is E?”
“Someone I trust.”
“I thought no one else knew about our work.”
Arasemis regarded him carefully. “As your master, you must trust my judgment. I shared this letter with you because I trust yours.”
“I’m sorry, Master Arasemis. I suppose I’m restless here by myself without a task to look forward to.” Marlan knew there would be new tasks, of course. He simply wanted to know what or where they would be.
“Bertwil, Morroy, and Juhl will return soon enough,” Arasemis said. “Then, the next phase of your training will begin. As for this letter, you cannot know who E is at this point. Suffice it to say that he is a supporter of the Order who would have us focus on reviving and improving on the ancient machines of the Rahlampian folk rather than the acrobatics or mixture making. But he’s the hasty one. We must make full use of all three ancient arts before we can hope to use the great machines of old. Only then can we strike down whole armies.”
“Will we build landships, like the Rahlampian tribes did?”
“Of course, Marlan. But not for some time still.”
“What about airships, as this man suggested?”
“I’m not certain they ever existed. The tales began long ago with Hilsingor’s self-serving speculation and continue to this day. But no one has seen even the remnants of a ship that could sail in the clouds. There are still some places we could search for them, but…”
“Imagine what the Order could be with airships,” Marlan marveled aloud.
“We must keep our focus where it is. There will be a time to investigate the machina arcana. But right now, there are too many crowned heads yet to fall.”
“Must we heed this man’s advice? I could kill the new Lord Valient on the road much quicker and easier than I killed his father. I could stalk him until he crosses into Toulon so no one has cause to suspect Wallevet locations.”
“I considered that. It’s especially tempting since the Valients are descendants of Marshal Hilsingor himself. And you know what the marshal did to Rildning. But we’ll let the young Valient live for now, to preserve the safety of Thorendor. There will be other opportunities.”
“Soon?”
“Yes, soon.”
31. ARTHAN
On the Road to Bredahade, Wallevet Ministry
Flowertide, 3034
“Well, I’m unaccustomed to traveling in a carriage,” Arthan said, looking up at the velvet ceiling and shoving the bench cushions aside. “I prefer my horse and the sky above me.”
“Me too,” Bardil said.
“Alderman Alfrem was right, my lord,” Serdot said. “Taking your father’s carriage is a symbol of your new status. Additionally, I arranged a few modifications.”
Serdot peeled back a corner of cloth on the wall, exposing iron plating.
“An armored carriage?” Arthan said, impressed.
“That’s why there’s a larger team of horses,” Bardil said.
“It’s not as good as what they’re building in the Calbrian foundries these days, but it will afford some protection.”
“Thank you, Serdot.”
“That’s not all…” Serdot leaned over and pulled a drawer out from under his bench. Three wine bottles clinked.
“Well done!” Bardil said.
Serdot continued to pull on the drawer, exposing a back section that held a small crossbow.
“Like the one you carry,” Arthan said.
“You never know when it will come in handy,” Serdot said, restoring the hidden weapon.
“More foreign than sitting in this carriage was sitting in Rachard’s great hall…” Arthan mused.
“My lord?”
“During the feast to break the mourning.”
“Well, you can’t argue with tradition,” Serdot said. “But yes, celebrating the life of the deceased with roast pigs, jugglers, and music is also meant to turn our eyes to the future.”
“Yet
that same hall hosted the foreign delegations that came to rip down the Empire Alliance that Father was attempting to shoulder. How the hall was transformed…”
“The halls of power are built for such things,” Serdot said. “Feasts and funerals. Mercy and judgment. War and peace. But it’s men like your father, and yourself, who are destined to rule men well from such halls. I believe the destiny of the Valients is to be kings once again.”
“Destiny…” Arthan mused as he glanced at Bardil before looking out the window. “And what governs destiny, Serdot?”
“Some say God, others say the stars. But I’m a simple shadow, my lord. My counsel will always be that your destiny lies in your own hands.”
Arthan turned from the window. “You leave no role for the actions of other powerful people?”
“Nor God,” Bardil added.
“That’s how I prefer it,” Serdot said with a smile.
“Is there anything else I should know about Lord Reimvick before we arrive in Bredahade?” Arthan asked. “If I travel with him to Eglamour, what will that say about me in the royal court, that I am a gossiper? You did not speak of Reimvick when we held council.”
“Because I had nothing to add. I agree with Alfrem that you can learn a lot from Reimvick. But I also agree with General Medoff that Reimvick’s incessant gossip is a distraction. Otherwise, I see no danger in him.”
“What are your methods for discerning the minds of such high nobles?”
Serdot laughed. “I know no methods you are not already familiar with, my lord. Ask me for the contents of their secret letters or the names of their mistresses, and I can deliver with ease.”
“I’m sure. It’s a dark side of the world most never see, isn’t it?”
“Everyone sees shadows. Not everyone pays attention to them.”
Arthan nodded. “I suppose I must employ the skills of widsemers like you selectively, or otherwise upset the balance and provoke them to spy on me.”
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