by Ulysses Troy
“I can see why,” Conrad said. “Do you also know what rate Lady Chanel put on their heads?”
“No, Ser.”
They walked a little more to reach the inn, and then Conrad asked one more question to the old servant. “So, what’s all of the fuss about?” I would like to hear from your side too.
“Of course, Ser,” the old servant said. “Baron Edmond de Gannát, the new lord of House Gannát, challenged Baron Antonin de Wellon to a duel of honor to end the continuing feud between the two houses. The duel has been planned to take place in LaPellás plains due to its connection with the events that started the feud.”
“Is Baron Antonin in the feast right now?”
“No, Ser. Instead of having him as our guest in LaPellás, we are hosting his cousin, Evrard de Wellon. Ser Evrard has accepted Baron Edmond’s challenge in the name of their house.”
“Is Ser Evrard a capable sword?” Conrad asked.
“They say so, Ser,” the young servant stepped in. “Some call him the “The Black Knight.”
“The Black Knight?” Now all of these had started to make sense. Even though Conrad had learned his true name just then, the fame of the Black Knight had reached his ears before. As far as Conrad knew, the Black Knight had proved his worth as a skilled fighter in a minor border incident that happened years before. A Vanheimian party with unknown reasons had crossed the border without permission from the crown of Baltaire. Baron de Armand, worrying that the party may only be a vanguard for a much greater force sent with the intention of an invasion, had immediately sent a message to his Count and warned all the neighboring Baronies about these intruders. After informing the capital and receiving a letter from the King that ordered him to take a peaceful approach to the Vanheimians, Count Simon de Morne had gathered a small force of volunteering knights to confront them on the field. Among them, there was a Knight in black armor hailing from the county of Loussión. Some said that, when the Count’s parley with the Vanheimians turned out to be unsuccessful and Vanheimians attacked his party on his own lands, relying on their greater numbers, if it hadn’t been for the Black Knight, the Count would not be still alive today. Folk claimed that the Black Knight had single-handedly slain four Vanheimian Knights and at least ten professional soldiers of the Lion while trying to defend the injured Count. Because of his outstanding talent for swords and courage, the fight had resulted in their favor against all odds, and Vanheimians had eventually surrendered, while their King had to pay an inordinate sum as their ransom by way of an apology.
When they finally arrived at the inn, a man-at-arms checked Conrad to see if he was carrying a weapon on himself, and then opened the door and let them enter. Unlike the outside, the crowd in the inn was mostly made of noble Barons, ladies, and knights. Nobles liked to drink under a good roof next to a warm fire while their servants tried to warm up under the light of the moon. And no one would talk or think about it.
“Where can I sit?” Conrad asked the older servant as soon as he stepped inside.
“We did not reserve you a specific seat, Ser,” the old servant said, “but the lady has said she would see you shortly.”
“Really?” Conrad said with surprise. “Do you know why?”
“No, Ser. All I know is that Ser Robard de Fennard will come soon to escort you to the lady.”
“Okay,” Conrad said while the servants were leaving the inn. I just hope it is not another request for assassination. Because they don’t like it when I deny them.
He sat on an empty chair, drank some beer, and chatted with a drunk nobleman for a while. The nobleman claimed to be hailing from the “Land of the clouds”. A land where everyone had wings to fly anywhere they wanted.
“Are you sure you are not talking about Heaven?” Conrad asked while barely keeping himself from laughing at the drunk man’s claims.
“Of course not!” he said. “Heaven is below where I live.”
After some more drinking and chatting, a knight coming down from the upper floors of the tavern finally approached him. And I thought I knew what ‘soon’ meant.
“I am Ser Robard de Fennard,” said the Knight as he saluted Conrad with his head, and then shook his hand. He was a man in his mid-fifties. Yet despite his age, he appeared to be very healthy and physically capable, someone that could still make wonders with the sword. His eyes were deep blue and gave the man a wise and honorable, yet also kind presence. “The Lady wants to see you in private, Ser Conrad,” he said. “I am honored to meet you.”
“Me too, Ser,” Conrad said while shaking the man’s hand. He believed himself to be someone good at reading people, and his impressions about Robard was indeed positive. It was not just about his looks, but also the way he behaved. Yet for a moment, he wondered how he would react if this ‘honorable’ Knight was ordered to kill Conrad by his legitimate Lady Regent. At the end of the day, for Conrad, Knights were only mercenaries with better tools to kill.
“Do you know why her ladyship has summoned me, Ser?” Conrad asked the knight. What can she hope to gain from me?
“No. Unfortunately, her ladyship did not share with me the reason.” Ser Robard said. “Please, this way.” He was not a man of delicacy but was still trying to sound as genteel as possible. He walked towards the wooden stairs and Conrad followed him. While climbing upstairs, Conrad asked the Knight the question in his mind.
“There are rumors about a dangerous band of bandits roaming in your territory lately,” Conrad said. “Aren’t you worried that they may threaten the contest?”
“Of course,” Robard answered in his quiet voice. “Her ladyship has especially ordered us to make provisions for a possible threat. We have doubled the patrols, informed the men about dangers, and even hired a small mercenary band to strengthen our numbers. They just arrived yesterday.” Ser Robard sniffed. “Their numbers are few, but they are really well trained and armed, even though they ask for less in return for their services. And a proper knight leads them. They call themselves ‘The Banned Company’, I don’t know why, but I am sure they will help us give hell to any bandits who dare to attack the plains, even to this ‘The Brotherhood of the Dark Horse’.” Meanwhile, they had arrived at the upper level. “Apart from that band, she has also recruited more men to our ranks, just for security during the Contest.” He pointed to a group of guardsmen that were on guard duty in the tavern. “These are new among our ranks. We have recruited them from our town. I and Ser Melden are training them personally.” Looking at a specific guardsman, he added, “That one is Herald. To speak the truth, I was hopeful about him as his father was a man-at-arms under the service of the old Baron. A decent man with proper skills, and served with an unquestionable loyalty for years, until he got cut down by a bloody bandit.” Ser Robard turned his eyes from the man. “I hoped Herald would be like him too, but he has disappointed me so far.”
“Are all the rest like him? Because if they are, they would create more trouble than they solve,” Conrad said to the knight.
“Of course not,” Ser Robard looked at Conrad while speaking. “Some of them have even managed to surpass my expectations, which was very low.” He pointed at another man, younger than the last one. “This one is Josán. He was a butcher in the town until his shop went down. He had to join us to make a living. But at least he had held a blade in his life, unlike the most, and turned out to be eager to hone his skills with it.”
They had reached the last floor and Ser Robard led him to the lady’s room. He took his plate gloves off and gently knocked on the door with his naked hand. “My Lady, Ser Conrad is here!”
“You may enter,” the Lady said from inside. Her voice was soft and beautiful.
Robard opened the door and stepped in, with Conrad close behind. “My lady, I’m honored to present to you Ser Conrad from the southern province of Battum, as you wished.”
The woman quickly turned towards the old knight. Her eyes were light blue, and they were so bright that Conrad could see the dancing flame
s of the grate in them. She was beautiful, more than any princess from the tales, with her smooth fair skin and well-braided blonde hair. Her lips were redder than blood and her gaze brilliant. Although the lady’s beauty impressed him, Conrad was a man of duty, and he would never let a woman’s beauty rule over him.
“Thank you, Ser Robard, you may leave. I want to talk with Ser Conrad in private,” she said to the knight as she smiled warmly.
“My lady,” the knight bowed his head for the lady and left the tent with quick steps. Now Conrad and Lady were alone in the room.
“I guess you had the chance to chat with Ser Robard?” she asked.
“Yes, my lady,” Conrad said. “He seems like an honorable man.”
“Indeed, he is. He has been in the service of my house for tens of years. Served my father before my brother, and now serves me, and my Baron nephew,” Lady Chanel said. “We are very lucky to have such an honest and noble man to protect us.” She waited for him to give an answer, but when Conrad remained silent, she broke the silence again.
“Would you want to drink anything, Ser Conrad?” she asked while walking to her table.
“No, my lady.” My head is already shooting because of the beers I drank.
“Are you sure? We have a special Jaldori brew from the last harvest of the year; I ordered it especially for the pleasure of our best guests.”
“I am sure, my lady. Thank you, you were very kind to ask.”
She looked into Conrad’s eyes while pouring wine into her glass. “You are a consistent man, Ser Conrad. I will choose to surrender to your wish, at least for this time.” Her smile revealed her white teeth. “Please, sit.” She showed Conrad to a chair, while sitting in another herself.
“So, it is you. The wandering adventurer Conrad of Battum, the one who smallfolk have started to talk about all over the land.”
“Yes, you can say that my Lady. Even though I was not aware of being that famous.”
She smiled. “Is it true, what they say about you, Ser Conrad?”
“What do they say, my lady?” Conrad asked.
“They talk about the things you have done and are doing.”
“Then probably not even half of them, my lady,” Conrad said while trying to distract his attention from the woman’s shining eyes. “Folk like spreading tales with no truth in them, especially when the topic is heroism.”
“But even if half of your deeds are true, it makes you a hero, Ser Conrad.”
“To be honest, I am even surprised you actually know who I am, my lady.”
“You are also humble,” she said. “Only a fool would ignore a hero, Ser Conrad, and I have no intention to be one.” She smiled again. “If you go on performing such deeds at this rate, your fame will spread to all the lands of Baltaire, only to be written in the tales of the near and distant future.”
No matter how hard it was, Conrad took her eyes off Lady Chanel by trying to direct his attention to the flames in the grate. She was aware of it. Aware of every part of this little game between the two of them. And it was amusing her.
“Being written into tales?” That would not be so bad, unless Gavise wrote the tale. “To be honest, it was never my intention in the first place,” Conrad said.
“Don’t you want to be famous, Ser Conrad? Men desire fame and glory most of the time, at least when they wield a sword and fight to the death.”
“I want to help people, my lady. If it makes me famous, I am fine with it, but I have never fought for it.”
“Then tell me, what is your motive?” She asked, approaching him slowly. “Why are you wandering around the land, helping people along the way? Fighting against the bandits, lifting curses, and saving princesses. What do you hope to achieve by acting like a knight from a tale? What do you seek if it is not fame? Money? Titles?”
“I have already said, my lady.” Conrad said. “I just want to help.”
“I can’t understand you, Ser Conrad.”
Conrad answered the Lady’s response with a calm and confident voice. “Once, my lady, a man I greatly respected said, ‘there are two kinds of people in this world, and they cannot understand each other no matter how hard they try.’”
“Perhaps you should give me a chance to,” she smiled. Her smile is a sweet poison.
“So, does her ladyship have a specific participant to cheer? Which house is right about their claims, in your eyes?” Conrad quickly tried to change the subject.
“Oh, you are going to put me in a trouble, aren’t you?” she said, still smiling. “the House LaPellás would rather prefer to stay out of this . . . unfortunate feud.” She explained. “And it would not be smart to give my opinions about it when I am representing my House’s interests in the first place, Ser Conrad. I am sure you would understand and pardon me for that.” Her voice was sarcastic, as if she were having fun at his expense.
“If her ladyship’s business is done with me, I must go, as Baron Edmond is waiting for me,” Conrad said, hoping she would give him the permission to leave.
“Baron Edmond? How have the two of you met?” she asked.
“It’s . . . rather a strange story.” She insists, so I will, too. “My lady, I really need to leave.”
“Of course, Ser Conrad. But I hope we’ll be able to talk more sometime.” She smiled at him again as she put the wineglass on a table nearby.
“My lady,” Conrad said bowing his head down, and then left the lady’s room to find Baron de Gannát.
***
He saw noble men and women, eating, drinking, dancing, talking, and vomiting throughout the place. Under the roof of the great tavern, the wooden floor was constantly beaten by the quick steps of the servants, who were trying to serve their masters with a great deal of hassle, while bards coming from all across the Northern Baltaire were displaying their artistic talents to this elite crowd of nobles.
The feast was literally pure chaos, but it still was full of life and enjoyment. Looking at all this mess, Conrad just tried to find an empty chair to sit on, waiting until the tavern would be peaceful enough to search for the Baron’s table. As chance would have it, he was able to spot a convenient place to sit: a large wooden table full of drunk nobles. He approached the table and pulled a chair. When he sat down, he did not salute any of the men at the table, as he just wanted to be left in peace as usual. However, he had accidentally drawn the attention of a middle-aged noble with a large brown beard and a sumptuous cap, sitting in front of him.
“Spare me for asking but are you a mercenary?” the man asked after examining him for a bit with his dark brown eyes. He seemed to be a warm and friendly person as far as his tone of voice and gestures suggested.
“No. I am more of an adventurer. Conrad of Battum.”
“Conrad of Battum?” the man smiled. “That great hero folk have been talking about recently?”
“Yes, apparently,” Conrad said.
“I am Robert de Lothiré, the Baron of Lothiré, but you can call me anything you want as long as it fits me.” He laughed. “Here my friend, take some wine.” He reached out to the wine bottle standing across the table and gave Conrad the glass he was holding in his hands. “You deserve this excellent brew more than most of these goatfuckers in here.”
Better accept this one. Conrad poured wine into a glass, and then took a sip. “It is good indeed.”
“You don’t know it yet, but I have excellent taste,” Robert said. “So, what brings you here, Conrad of Battum? Another adventure?”
“You could say that.” So, you have heard about me too. I did not know I was that famous in the north. Yet tales of heroism spread fast.
“If most of your adventures end up in feasts like these, then you must be one lucky adventurer.” Robert moved his eyes in the tavern with joy, examining the bright candles of many colors. “So, do you like it here?”
“It’s impressive. Yet I can’t still understand why it has attracted so many people, especially the nobility.” Among all the feasts Conra
d had attended, the feast at the LaPellás was one of the best. The great tavern that hosted the feast was truly ‘great’ with its gigantic hall. On its floors, flowers from distant lands with exotic colors had been placed for decoration. Counting all the musicians, servants, hired cooks, and guards, also the expensive food served on the silver plates, good quality wine for nobles, and beer for lowborn, it was obvious the Lady had spared no expense for the feast. As far as Conrad knew, LaPellás was a rich Barony, deriving an important portion of its wealth from its fertile farming areas. Yet, the feast was too pompous for being orchestrated by a House ruling a Barony, even though it was quite a rich one.
“Oh, of course, it did,” Robert explained. “Feasts like these, my friend, are indispensable for the nobility. Where else you can find a good reason to step out of your boring castle and have some fun? Drinking wine while forging alliances and building schemes? Seeking benefices in a place full of well-groomed women? Every single noble is here for these, except for me.”
“Then what about you?” said Conrad, scratching his left arm. “A Baron like you must be pretty busy. Why are you here if there is nothing here to ‘benefit’ you as you claimed?”
“Isn’t it obvious!” Robert shouted, unintentionally spitting out some wine from his mouth. “I am enough of the shit going on in my castle! My precious mother-in-law, magnificent and great Lady de Paquin, the Holy One may bless her name, by the way, came to our castle half a year ago to see her newborn grandson and give him her divine blessings if you buy it, but for some damned reason, she still hasn’t left my household! She has been staying in my fucking castle for a half year! Half a year!” In a moment, the nobleman consumed all the wine in the glass to forget about that one major problem, causing half of it to spill on his beard, and color it red. As he gave the man a towel he had just grabbed on the table, Conrad could barely hide his desire to laugh.
“She and her goddamned daughter, I mean my precious lady wife, united their powers to give me hell on earth,” Baron Robert said, cleaning his beard. “Together, they are sticking their noses into everything going on in the castle, even into every step I take! I feel like a fucking puppet in my own castle!”
