“Thank you, Lord Minister. I hope the efforts of your inquiry office are fruitful, if only to absolve my people. And I hope we can continue to talk when necessary.”
Arthan nodded. “When necessary.”
53. FETZER
Thorendor Castle, Wallevet Ministry
Flowertide, 3034
Fetzer grinned as he wrote this part. He was proud of himself and certain the others could sense his cunning intellect but were powerless to counter him.
Eavesdropping on Marlan and Arasemis is easy and well worth the risk. It was enlightening to hear Marlan report the other students’ “irritation” with my “arrogance,” and valuable to hear Marlan defend me as a unifying leader prophesied by Rildning. Although Arasemis is unconvinced about my potential, I must continue to cultivate Marlan’s friendship.
Marlan does not have a jealous bone in his body. When others have resented my abilities, he has only encouraged and defended me. If Marlan were older and in Arasemis’s position as master of the Candlestone recruits, this Order would be better led. And Marlan is the only one whose swordcraft rivals my own. None of the others are a challenge, except the master, of course. But one day I will defeat the one-armed oddity in the training hall.
Marlan’s alchemical abilities are also unmatched. Now that Arasemis practically lives in the library, Marlan has taken over most of the teaching. The beautiful Juhl contributes in the laboratory as well, but she is usually too quick to help Rodel and hasn’t yet recognized that her time is better spent with me.
While training we’ve also witnessed Marlan’s new sword. Gladed and treated over many months, his sword, which he has named Banebrand, is truly a marvel. We set up an armored frame of wood, complete with steel helmet, breastplate, pauldrons, and mail, for him to slash at a few times. Sparks flew and flames danced along the armor, heating it to a red glow. When he was done fighting it, well past the point when the wearer would already have been cooked, the armor was partially melted and dripped to the floor in little heaps.
If Marlan and Bertwil can have alchemical swords, I should have one. Even Juhl has a sword that is being treated. If I cannot convince Arasemis that I’m ready for one then perhaps Marlan will help me build one in secret. Not that we have a new task on which to use it. Arasemis has kept himself locked away with his dusty books instead of planning our next task. Even Marlan is becoming restless.
54. ARTHAN
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Flowertide, 3034
“Will you be leaving Eglamour soon?” Arthan asked.
“No, I should stay at court for a while longer,” Reimvick answered. “With you, Eperude, and Sigbert leaving, someone should stay and prevent Brugarn and Voufon from killing each other. And the king needs balanced counsel, should he decide to listen to advice.”
“Who will care for Wallevet during your extended absence?”
“I have an able cousin as alderman of Bredahade. I cannot count on my reclusive younger brother to manage anything.”
“Write to me if something of note happens,” Arthan said. “Serdot will be here, but sometimes I wonder if your gossip circles have information that is as good as his networks of shadows.”
“I cannot match the skill of a widsemer, but I certainly will keep you informed.” Reimvick smiled. “Don’t come back with that cheek bandage; show your trophy scar. Safe journey.”
---
The uneventful ride south from Eglamour gave Arthan time to think about all that had happened. Arthan looked out on the open plains of the Toulon River Valley. His role as the king’s Marshal of Inquiry, his diplomatic channel to the Rugens, his stature at court. His future was as full of promise as the fields before him.
Arthan was reflecting on Reimvick’s decision to remain in the capital when Bardil woke from his nap on the other side of the carriage.
“Will you not rest, Brother?” Bardil asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You’re going to need it.”
“I suppose I’ve let the affairs of Eglamour overtake my mind,” Arthan answered.
Bardil shook his head and smiled. “Too soon.”
“Father was the mortar between all those lords of stone. That’s plain to me now. And everyone expects me to be the same way.”
“Perhaps that means your destiny is to be either the trowel or the chisel,” Bardil said.
Arthan was struck by the truth in his jest. “Add more mortar or pick it apart. What would Father have done in these strange times?”
“He would have done his best, as will you. If you can help keep Donovan unified in the face of our enemies, then you should. And if you can protect our Delavon, come what may in Eglamour, you will.”
“Wise words from youth.” Arthan smiled.
“I have more for you. Everyone has seen the way you look at Meriam. You should—”
“Bellumet’s assistant? She is merely—”
“—the object of your affection, don’t deny it. Brother, no woman has touched you as she has.”
“Meriam is a commoner,” Arthan said. “Beautiful, kind, and tenderhearted. But a commoner.”
“Father wed below his rank. You should visit Meriam before you return to Eglamour.”
“Of course. I will see Bellumet and Meriam to discuss strengthening Delavon’s defenses.”
“See her. When you are caught up in the maelstrom of politics and intrigue of Eglamour, you will think back on her sweet face and wish to touch it again.”
“The king offered me the hand of Princess Milisend,” Arthan said.
“That changes things…”
“I saw the princess briefly at court. She was shy and awkward, probably aware of the king’s offer. I do not know her.”
“She is beautiful, Brother. And if you wed her, you’ll certainly cement your position at court.”
“To wed for love alone is a luxury lord ministers lack. To wed for politics is expected. A duty.”
“You have all the difficult decisions,” Bardil said with a smile.
“And I have brothers who are little help.”
---
On the third day of travel, Arthan’s convoy reached the outskirts of Ralmogard. He knew it to be Toulon Ministry’s only free city-state. The columns of smoke rising from behind the city walls reminded him of Mordmerg. Arthan, who had finally shunned his carriage to ride on his horse alongside Livonier, stopped to question a group of peasants near the roadside about what had happened.
“We’ve been turned out of Ralmogard, my lord,” volunteered one man.
“Forced into tents and lean-tos on the farmlands,” said another.
“Who turned you out?” Arthan asked.
“Duke Brugarn’s men,” said a stiff-chinned washerwoman. “Turned us all out for failing to pay a tax.”
“And the Almerian garrison?” Arthan asked.
“Butchered,” said the first man. “And some of our folk besides.”
“Insane,” Arthan whispered to Livonier. He turned to the peasants again. “Are the duke’s men still in the city?”
The woman nodded. “Otherwise my children would be in their beds tonight.”
“We cannot help them,” Livonier told Arthan. “Brugarn is lord of Toulon. Like Asteroth and Erath, if he wants to wreck a city loyal to the Almerians, who can stop him?”
“These people of the free cities are still Donovards,” Arthan said. “You saw the rioting in Eglamour. Every city will be touched by the disaster that is the Proclamation of Expediency, not just the city-states. Brugarn is ruining the heart of the kingdom.”
“There is nothing we can do here, my lord. There wasn’t much we could do for Mordmerg.”
Arthan turned to Bardil. “How much do we have?”
“About four hundred guldirs or so in the carriage.”
“Livonier, make sure all of it is distributed. Find the alderman of Ralmogard if you can.”
“My lord,” Livonier muttered
, “Brugarn’s men will hear of this. They’ll take your gold from these people, or even kill them for it.”
Arthan knew Livonier was right, but he was compelled to help. “Maybe it will be enough for most of them to find better shelter first. We’re rebuilding Mordmerg. We can help them do the same.”
---
A few days later Arthan arrived in Wallevet’s capital of Bredahade.
“Lord Reimvick’s alderman has taken great care of his city for him,” Bardil said as they entered.
Arthan nodded. “No sign of riots here. Unlike the royal treasury, the Reimvicks protect their wealth by protecting their people, as our house does. After Brugarn’s proclamation, Lord Reimvick told me he would not increase taxes on the people or cut his soldiers. He said he’d pay Eglamour from his own purse and equip his men without help from the king’s coffers.”
“I thought the lord ministers were required to do that anyway,” Bardil said.
“They were, in the old days,” Arthan said. “But Erech’s father made many of the lord ministers dependent on his largess. So they’ll have no way around the proclamation.”
“I’m glad to be a Valient,” Bardil said as they rode onward.
55. TRONCHET
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Flowertide, 3034
“Come now, Waldemar, as steward you must acknowledge how inappropriate it was for the king to appoint young Arthan to be marshal.”
“The king may appoint whomever he wishes, Tronchet,” Waldemar said. “Do you have Arthan’s motivation to find the assassins, given that he lost his father to them?”
Tronchet knew Waldemar was right but did not respond.
“It’s a slap in the face,” Hamelin said. “Why didn’t Arthan come to me about Garion? Why keep it to himself? Because he wanted to make a show of it for his own benefit, I say.”
“Then perhaps Arthan is not as inexperienced as you both think. He is a learned, if young, politician,” Waldemar said.
“He embarrassed the Crownblades,” Hamelin said. “It’s a great dishonor to—”
“You embarrassed and dishonored the Crownblades yourself by not detecting Garion in the first place,” Waldemar said. “As captain of the king’s personal guard, that was—and still is—your responsibility. If it hadn’t been for Arthan, Garion would have killed Brugarn and perhaps the king, and you’d be more than disgraced. Yet you’ve kept your position and nursed your jealousy.
“As for you, Tronchet,” the steward continued, “you come to me asking what can be done? You are still Chief Magistrate of Eglamour. If the riots, bandits, and Milisend’s heists aren’t keeping you busy enough, I suggest you offer Arthan whatever help you can spare him, instead of complaining. And be thankful that the king named him marshal instead of Brugarn.”
---
Tronchet and Hamelin strolled along in the courtyard after leaving Waldemar’s chamber.
“The steward speaks as if everything is well and fine,” Hamelin said.
“How did you not suspect Garion?” Tronchet asked. “He was one of your own knights.”
“Do you think I need you to tell me that? Garion joined the Crownblades nearly a year ago. He was talented with a sword and seemed loyal. I never would have picked him out as a hidden assassin. What could I have done?”
“He never acted abnormally at all?”
“Never. But I’ll freely admit to you, my friend, that my distraction with the king may have contributed. Erech drops in and out of deep melancholy. One moment he’s occupied with the smallest matter, the next he’s ambivalent about matters that will determine the fate of the kingdom. Brugarn’s whisperings are also making the king increasingly paranoid.”
“The king is spending more and more time alone,” Tronchet said. “Such self-imposed isolation is unhealthy…He’s slowly withdrawing into himself.”
“Will he ever come out of it?”
“That is my prayer,” Tronchet said. “In the meantime Waldemar is right. We must accept Arthan’s appointment as Marshal of Inquiry. Perhaps Arthan will help us smoke out the assassins.”
“If Erech’s mind doesn’t heal, that will be the larger problem. Any of his brothers would make a more able king, even Brugarn. Their lineage is God-chosen for a reason. But don’t misunderstand: my loyalty remains with Erech.”
“I’ve never questioned your loyalty, Hamelin, nor does anyone else. Let us make sure there are no more Garions. Will you assist Arthan as you’re able, as I will?”
“I suppose…”
56. MARLAN
Thorendor Castle, Wallevet Ministry
Flowertide, 3034
“Master?”
Marlan poked his head into the library. Arasemis’s writing table at the far end of the room was obscured by newly stacked books and parchments. Hearing no reply, he walked in. When he got close enough to see over the clutter, he saw Arasemis’s shaggy red-haired head lying on the table, unmoving.
“Master Arasemis…”
Marlan reached out and touched his armless right shoulder. Arasemis jolted up, his face gaunt, with heavy dark bags under his wide eyes. Marlan was certain he had not eaten for days.
“Master, are you all right?”
“What? Ah, yes. Yes, Marlan.” Arasemis cleared his throat. “Thank you, I…”
Marlan noticed a tray of untouched food on a nearby table, probably brought in by Yorand or Adalane. “How long has it been since you’ve had a good sleep and a bite to eat?”
“No time,” Arasemis said. “Grandfather Erwold’s writings have kept my full attention.”
“Drink this,” Marlan said, handing him a cup of water from the tray. “Can you share what Erwold wrote?”
“Not yet, Marlan. I’m still piecing it together. The Gali is not difficult. You could easily translate it. It’s all of his mention of other books and things. I’ve had to cross-reference many other texts to understand what he’s written.”
“Can you let the students help? Everyone is growing restless and there’s only so much training and teaching I can give them. They need your direction.”
“I have neglected them,” Arasemis said. “But this small bundle of parchments from the hearth may be the most significant discovery for Candlestone’s revival since I acquired the books of Rildning and Enildir.”
“Share it with us, whatever you have thus far. It will help your apprentices understand.”
“Not yet, Marlan. But I’ll give you a taste. Read this.” Arasemis pointed to part of his translation.
However, the names Ahrazimujz, Arazemus, and Arasemis have been part of every generation of the Order since it was led by Dimanus and Nothild, an Arukan and Bronhildi, respectively. They were probably the seventh generation of Candlestone. It was around this time that the secret seat of Candlestone moved from Aggarwal northward to…
“You share your first name with ancient Order members,” Marlan said. “Are they family?”
“Appears so. One of them, by the name of Bevil Ahrazmis, was a scribe to a senior general of the Wartemur Army, one of the units that replaced the Frontier Corps in western Pemonia. Bevil would have held an ideal post within the Brintilian Empire to help Candlestone subvert it from the inside.”
“Now I see why your parents named you Arasemis.”
“Actually, they named me Osmond. My father hated my grandfather’s obsession with Candlestone and forbade me and my brothers from studying it. But Erwold encouraged us in secret. He liked to call me Arasemis, so I took that name for myself. I never understood why he liked that name until now. My ancestors have been members of Candlestone for many generations.”
Marlan shook his head in disbelief. “Destiny…You’re reviving an order that they kept alive all these years.”
“They did more than that. My grandfather wrote about Wallon Arazmis of Candlestone’s fifth generation. Wallon assassinated Seralin, the last Exarch of Pemonia, in 2356. Her death sped the decline
of the Brintilian Empire’s influence on the continent. Donovan was founded as an independent kingdom during the seventh generation.”
“What generation are we?”
“There are gaps in Erwold’s lists, and sometimes Candlestone passed from old men to their grandchildren. But if Erwold claimed to be the thirty-sixth, that would make me thirty-seventh, and you, Garion, and the others, thirty-eighth.”
“Fascinating to know our roots since the days of Rildning’s companions…”
“There’s much more. Read this.”
And the old Uoricke Book of Aberynbane has a much more accurate history of the Order, although the damage done to the book at the academy hinders my view of this issue. Despite this, I suspect that the Aberynbanes took this burden upon their shoulders and welcomed the Order, permitting Candlestone to build its new seat on Thorendor’s forested lands, obscured from the cities and trade routes but having good access to them…
“What does that mean?” Marlan asked.
“Thorendor was the name of a petty king of a small realm called Aberynbane. It was later absorbed into the new Kingdom of Donovan. Official histories describe King Thorendor as an ignorant, brutish tyrant who warred often with his neighbors until he was killed, cementing the unification of Donovan. His lands were absorbed into what became Wallevet Ministry.”
The information struck Marlan. “King Thorendor must have welcomed the Order when they moved from Aggarwal, then let them build a new capital here.”
Arasemis nodded. “And named their castle after him, which suggests he was not what the official histories portrayed him to be.”
“How could we not know we lived in such an historic place?” Marlan asked, glancing around the library.
“I always suspected it was different for a reason. The architecture is distinct and its location isolated. Erwold told me it was a special place that must always remain in our family. My father wanted to tear it down but Erwold willed it to me.”
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