by P. S. Power
He sat at an empty table, only to be surprised when Sir Humphrey came in not three minutes later, grabbed his own plate and then settled across from him. The large man had a stout mustache, his hair brown with good amounts of red worked in. That was kept short and tidy. It had been longer, even a month before, but after it was clear that war was coming, that had changed, almost instantly.
The man nodded at him.
“Master Brolly.”
“Sir Humphrey. Well met.”
The other man ate in the low hall a few times per week. Mainly to secure information that wasn’t available in the higher places. At least that was what he always claimed. He was of enough stature and rank to sit at the highest table there, meaning that the man had meant to shift to be near him, for some reason. After all, Anders was a boy and whatever rank, if any, he had there was unknown to him. Literally.
Even Anders had never, in his entire life, been told what that was supposed to be. The bastard of the Prince, though that didn’t confer much power, if any. It shouldn’t have even gotten him into the low hall, to be honest. That he hadn’t simply been fed with the servants seemed odd, given that.
The knight, the leader of the heavy horse in fact, nodded in his direction, then took a bite of bread, using his hands for it. Anders was carefully using a knife and fork for the same task, given that Master Belford could show up behind him at any time. The man took his own meals there after all. There had been no threats to beat him if he didn’t get every bite right at each meal, but the man would hit him with a stick, if he thought it would help him learn faster.
That had never happened at a meal, but the man himself sat alongside him, appearing almost as if summoned by magic. It left Anders glad of the care he was taking in his manners, to be certain.
“Sir Humphrey, Anders. I hear that you’re both traveling to the front, in the coming week?”
It was an amazing thing to know, given that Anders had just come from being told about that himself. Sir Humphrey blinked though, then looked at the boy across from him.
“With the supply train? There’s rumor of bandits in the area, along the route. They hit the last train out, so we’re increasing the guard on this one. Robbery by stealth, but we still lost too much to them. I didn’t know that we were getting magical assistance that way. Good. Probably not really needed, but boys shouldn’t be kept inside too much.” There was a nod then, as if that was the simple truth.
That Anders was going to provide some form of magical assistance. Which wasn’t totally wrong.
Master Belford smiled then, his face not moving, past his lips. It was sad seeming. Angry. Not that the man didn’t have a right to feel that way. He was still in mourning for his mother, after all.
“He also has the regional language in the area you plan to travel to. Not perfectly, but well enough to act as an interpreter. My understanding is that the goal is to set up magical communications in the area, with the main forces there?” It was a question.
Also, not wrong.
Anders shrugged, even if it had been spoken of out loud. They were in public and there were spies all around them. For that matter, there were two such beings at the table with him. True, ones he suspected were on his side and that of the King, but he didn’t know that for certain.
“I’m just going to meet with some people there. To make the connection. If I can get horses for it, I plan to take the wagon I own as well.” He shrugged, going on when neither man spoke. “I was also thinking that I’d try to learn to make armor, with magic. I might afford some horses, but even a gambeson and mail that fit...”
The words got a snort, a laugh of sorts, from the sturdy and powerful knight across from him.
“Truly. Learn to make even that well and quickly and you’ll be a rather wealthy man, Master Brolly. Indeed, I should aid you in this now, so that you’ll be in kind regard of me later, when I come begging for magical work to be done on my own armor. What do you need for that, do you think?” The man was clearly jesting, but his words didn’t seem unkind.
“I have some mail, captured in battle, so it needs to be repaired. I don’t even know what a gambeson looks like, close up. I need good examples of both to work from.” It was true, though he didn't know how to actually get his hands on anything like that.
Instead of going mean or seeming annoyed, Sir Humphrey simply nodded.
“I have some examples of that you can examine, of course. I’ll have that delivered to your room, after the meal?”
Anders blinked a few times then, and nodded.
“Thank you for the consideration, Sir Humphries. I don’t know if I can do this, learn to manipulate armor, with any kind of skill or speed. It seems like it should be possible. I’ve worked in cloth, often, but have only done a few things with metal. Enough to know that it’s much harder to do than working in softer materials. Not impossible, though.”
He’d learned to sharpen blades that way, but had never even tried to do much more than that. That wasn’t really hard to do, but there was a strange resistance to the activity. A thing that he’d assumed was due to it being hard to manage.
Anders ate for a while, being half starved as he was. While he did that, others came to sit with them. One of those people was his mother. She did not look best pleased. On the good side she wasn’t glaring at him. Or anyone else there. Lady Martya moved in alongside her, not seeming upset for her own portion, but from her glances, she was concerned for her friend. At least that was what Anders was reading into the situation.
Master Belford gave her a questioning look then. She answered, without a word being spoken at all.
“My father is coming to see the King. I guess that there’s a small problem with the disposition of the Brolly forces. As a barony, we have to field one hundred men at arms, ten knights and three hundred long bow. I don’t know more than that. I had a letter come, earlier, but the specific lack wasn’t expressed. I was asked to ready the way for him. As if I have the ear of the King on a daily basis?” She picked at her own plate for a second. Given that she normally waited to be served that was significant. After a while, she went on, glancing up at Master Belford, carefully not looking at her son at all.
As if that wasn’t going to be noticed.
Then, everyone at the table pretended not to get the idea well enough. Even Anders didn’t ask about the matter. The man was a person who had never been mentioned in his presence before. Now he was brought up as if the man was just a person that could come for a visit at any time.
That didn’t make sense to him. To either part. The old man inside was as baffled as the boy, in this case. It was, no doubt, a thing he needed to understand. The man was an unknown, and his own mother had made certain of that. Now she was bringing the topic up in a public space, with him right there. Knowing that he would be forced to ask about the man.
Instead, he pretended that he knew all about the fellow. A thing that wasn’t only not true, but that had to seem odd to the others.
“Oh? When will he be here?”
His mother looked at him then, her face hard.
“Inside the month. He plans to stay for some time, as well. A full month past that, unless things go poorly with the King.”
Anders nodded then, not bothering to act hurt by the matter. He wasn’t, so that wouldn’t make any sense.
“I’ll be gone then.”
Lyse stared at him for a moment, her blonde hair and perfect makeup making her seem slightly unreal, for some reason. A thing that came from Farad, since Anders didn’t really know her in any other way.
“That... Might be for the best. After disowning you as he did, I could see you taking offense at his presence. He didn’t even mention you in the letter he sent. As if you might not be here. Maybe we should present you to him anyway? Force him to see how wrong he was to disavow you as a child?” She looked slightly upset again. As if she wasn’t at all certain it was the best plan.
Anders waved the idea away, even if part of him
felt shocked at the news of being disowned. That implied that he’d been part of the family at some point, which Anders hadn’t known about in any way. He didn’t let himself feel angry over the idea. To him, now that the words were spoken, he could see that something like that had to have taken place.
Sending a letter to his mother was interesting, however. It implied that she hadn’t been cast aside for her indiscretion, only he, the inconvenient offspring of that action was to be punished for it.
He smiled and shook his head a bit.
“I’m off to the front, for some weeks. To meet some people there.”
Lady Martya nodded at the words.
“For your communications magics? That’s all the talk in the closed rooms of late. Apparently, your efforts have already made a difference, there, on the front. The Queen herself mentioned it to myself and Countess Rainly the other day. The King is most impressed with you, if I have it correctly.”
Sir Humphrey nodded then, standing, his food only half eaten.
“Forgive me, but I need to see to some small matters. I’ll have that armor sent over directly, Master Brolly.” He nodded, instead of bowing and left at a good pace.
No one commented on it. Then, at times, nature could call, or illness might strike. Both were rude to suggest at the table. Anders could have searched the man himself for the information, but it felt wrong, at the moment.
Invasive. Not that he’d let that stop him if work required it of him. He wasn’t a spy though, so whatever the issue was, if he wasn’t informed of it, then it wasn’t his business. To that end, he turned back to his food, not speaking again, though he did nod toward Lady Martya.
She smiled back, being a generally pleasant sort.
The woman was well presented and even attractive, though he knew her mainly as a friend of his mother. That he didn't know more about her seemed off. He didn't ask after the information, in case he wasn’t supposed to know for some reason. A big portion of the issue was that, until very recently, Anders hadn’t really been around people from the high court. He ate with some of them in the low hall from time to time, but they didn't, or hadn’t, sat near him or spoken to him in particular.
Now, as he was doing a bit more in the world, that had changed.
He nodded then, at Master Belford.
“Oh... I was given the next week off from lessons. I figured that I’d use that time to write a book or two.” He was mainly informing his mother of what was going on, but Lady Martya smiled grandly at him.
“That’s special then! What are you going to pen? A fiction about the castle?”
He’d never even thought of such a thing, even though he was aware of the idea of books written for entertainment. He even had some memorized, since it had been part of the history of the world that he’d once devoted his life to. That he’d write such a thing was an odd thought, though.
Rather than seem offended, he simply figured that Lady Martya was mentioning that which made the most sense for her own life.
“Really, I was going to write up some small things about magic. Just the bits that I know something of, of course. Hardly the work of a master, but I can use them for reference, later.”
Everyone nodded at that, except Martya who rolled her eyes.
“Hmph. That sounds a bit boring then. Here I’d figured that you were going to pen a love story about you and Eltha Tennet... She’s rather fond of you, isn’t she?”
Rather than ride to the bait, he simply nodded. She’d made some effort to teach him illusion, after all. It wasn’t a thing that he could spend much time on yet, but she’d given him hints toward that kind of thing, almost every morning as he worked to clean her room.
Of late that had turned into him mainly speaking to her, the main portion of the real work being done the night before by the real servants. That could seem friendly, after all.
He merely smiled and looked away, as if her being eight years older than he was wouldn’t be enough to stop anything like had been mentioned from happening. At least if he didn't want to insult the woman, which he didn’t want to do. It was teasing, but also a trap.
After all, if he protested Martya’s words too firmly, it could be an insult to Eltha. On the other hand, if he said that she was a friend, or really anything positive, that could be taken the wrong way as well. So, rather than do either of that, he merely tried to seem like he was being secretive. That could mean anything.
“You enjoy such stories, Lady Martya?”
That question started a conversation about books and reading. A thing that, interestingly enough, most of the people at the table enjoyed. Even Lyse did, though Anders had never seen her read much of anything in his entire life. Then, it was clear that much of his mother’s life was private. At least from him. Apparently, much of his own life was as well, again, private from Anders. No one else there actually indicated that the idea that Anders had been disowned by his family was new information or surprising in any way.
The boy inside rankled at the thought, feeling angry over it. For about five minutes. Then he relaxed and let it go. It made no difference to his life, after all. As far as he knew, the only thing that being placed in such a category meant was that he didn’t have to run off to serve in the Brolly forces, if they were having a shortage of bowmen that year. It wasn’t as if he knew the people who were rejecting him.
Who had done so, while he was still very young. Probably a baby.
Rather than sulk, he simply ate, then, feeling a bit greedy, went back for more food. This time, for once, Master Belford simply nodded at him.
“I was speaking on that topic with Duma Sett, just the other day. She’s worried that you aren’t eating enough for the work level you’re producing in magic. I don’t know how much energy it takes to fly around like you were doing in your efforts today, but have to imagine you’ve earned the extra tubers.” He didn’t smile about it, seeming dark and dour.
Lyse looked at him then, sharply.
“Flying?”
He nodded, not speaking due to the bite of root vegetable in his mouth. After that was taken care of, he spoke.
“Floating, really. Depak Sona tossed me into the air a way, to make certain I was paying attention. It was interesting, but hard. Enough so that I don’t think I’ll make flying my new mode of transportation. It’s at least as hard as running full out.”
That got a nod from the man. His black hair was greasy looking. Probably from some kind of hair treatment or potion, since the fellow was always clean and tidy. His clothing was in all black, being the same outfit that he’d had on for nearly a month. That wasn’t dirty, but could use a cleaning, no doubt. Mourning clothes, worn for his mother.
The man wouldn’t have ten black outfits, so trading things out would be more difficult than it seemed, at first. Anders didn’t mention it, even though it made sense for him to see to his tutor’s care, if he had time for it. Which, thanks to Prince Robarts, he did, now.
To that end, he nodded at the man, catching his eye.
“Might I have a few moments, Master Belford? Later, after we eat, of course. It’s nothing pressing.”
The man, rather coldly, nodded. What he thought Anders was going to say to him, he didn’t know at all. Nothing that good, from his expression. Then, it was hard to lose those you loved. Farad had done that in his old life. Really, he’d lost all of his family and most of the other historians he’d lived with for his entire life, before he’d passed on in his own turn.
Only Ganges and a handful of friends had been left when it was his time. Truly, Master Belford was managing well, given the nature of what had happened to his mother. Estella.
Thinking of her lit a rage inside of Anders.
A desire to punish someone for her death. The problem there was that Master Franken was already dead. Taken by a spell. One set by Ganges, who was in a far-off land, too well protected for a mere boy to reach or punish for having set his man into action in the first place.
Farad had
to school his face, to prevent anything from being seen. Even if his pain was real, it wasn’t his place to allow emotion to rule him on that topic.
After he finished eating, a thing done in silence, on his part, the other man rose with him. They both bowed to those at the table, using first courtly, even though Lyse was his mother. No one objected to the move, even though it was the wrong one there. It wasn’t until they were in the hallway, walking at a sedate pace, that Master Belford spoke. The man didn’t mince words, either.
He did speak with a hushed tone.
“You wish to arrange for Baron Brolly to meet with an accident? Or... Do you plan to remove him yourself? I can’t claim that I don’t understand. It is one thing for a King to insist that one not be in line for the throne. Even a Baron might do that, to ensure the blood of his line. To disown you like that was rather low, however. Even if he had to eat shame over the matter, he should have done so, and held his head high.”
Anders blinked then. After a moment, he shook his head.
“Truly, no. I was only going to see if you’d permit me to see to your clothing. I can change the color and cut of them. It occurred to me that I should see to that for you. That’s all. As for the other thing... Well, I didn’t know about that matter until the meal back there. It doesn’t honestly change anything, does it? My life is as it has been, in that regard. Knowing about it only makes me wiser.” He felt like he was floundering a bit, or perhaps that he should be filled with rage over the matter.
Master Belford, for the first time in over a month, as far as Anders knew, laughed.
“Ah! That’s much better, then. I know that Sir Humphry was worried there. That’s why he ran off, I’ll wager. To send warning to Baron Brolly that he needs to go carefully, where you are concerned.”
Anders didn’t really see why that would be needed. Even though he knew it, at the same time. He was a boy, but also a war veteran. Battle hardened and cold in killing. That wasn’t the whole of the matter, but it was close enough. Not that he’d kill a man for simply making a mistake, years before.