by Kal Spriggs
What a charming old man, Katarina thought to herself. "I'll accept your service, Mihaita."
"This is Anghel and Gavril," Bulmor said. "Two more students of Captan Ferrakan. Their families were killed when Hector's assassins killed the Duke's family." Anghel was tall, with blonde hair braided tight around her head and blue eyes. She had considerably more muscle than any other woman that Katarina had ever seen, with a powerful frame and broad shoulders. Gavril was her opposite, still tall, but slender and athletic. She had dark hair that was a match for Katarina's and similar pale features.
"Anghel will act as another constant escort," Ferrakan rasped. "She's big enough to give most men pause when they see her. She's a woman so she can accompany you anywhere. The same goes for Gavril, who can also act as your body double if we're in need of a distraction or some misdirection."
Anghel gave Katarina a sunny smile, but Gavril wore a watchful expression, almost as if she were afraid. "You both swear loyalty to me and my family?" Katarina asked.
They nodded in return.
"Well," Katarina said, "I'll accept your services, then, and I promise to keep faith and loyalty to you."
"Good," Ferrakan rasped. He waved a hand and the others withdrew, all besides Bulmor. "Now," he said, "there will need to be some immediate changes."
Katarina nodded, "Go ahead. Clearly Bulmor thinks you'll improve things, so as long as they're acceptable, I'll not override you."
Ferrakan sneered, "You won't override me in public, ever. That's the first thing. You've done one hair-brained scheme after the next. It's only luck that you're still alive. Starting now, when I say you move, you move. When I have Anghel tackle you to the ground, you fall."
"Or else?" Katarina asked.
"Or else you won't survive another cycle," Ferrakan rasped. "These fools may have sworn their allegiance to you on blood or out of vengeance. You go on doing what you've been doing and you'll burn through them in a month, maybe two at the outside. There are hundreds of other potential armsmen, who remain on the sidelines. Without my say, that's where they'll stay."
"I see," Katarina said. "What are your other conditions?"
"They aren't conditions, they're rules. You break my rules, I walk. I've seen too many good men and women die because of bad choices made by your family. I won't watch more of them die, not unless you follow my rules," Ferrakan snapped. "And don't worry, I don't give a shit about your politics or tactics. I'm not going to tell you how to run your kingdom, though I might well weigh in on something if it is particularly stupid."
"I appreciate that," Katarina replied with a glare. "Your comments about my parents..."
"Don't worry, I won't utter such things in public," Ferrakan snorted.
"No... what did you mean?" Katarina asked. "About my mother and some of the things about my father... I need to know what you know."
Ferrakan shot a look at Bulmor. "There were rumors about your mother... that she took another lover besides your father."
Katarina looked away. "I've heard something similar from Halyna Kail." She looked up in time to see the old man's face set in a hard, angry look. "And you know the truth about her, don't you? You know Hector's father was mine?"
"What?!" Bulmor demanded.
Ferrakan grimace, his seamed and scarred face turned even uglier. "Yes. I knew. It was why your father sent me away. I told him that woman would be trouble... and he didn't listen."
Katarina looked at Bulmor, "It was what she told me in our private meeting at Ryftguard. Hector is my half brother... not the son of my uncle Lord Mikhel but the son of my father."
"Ancestors," Bulmor grunted. He shook his head, "Does he know..."
"No," Katarina said. "Halyna didn't tell her son."
"Not that I'd trust what the scheming bitch says at face value," Ferrakan rasped, "but that holds true with what I know. Hector doesn't know that he killed his own father... nor does anyone else. Except his mother, and us three in the room."
"And my mother, the rumors of her infidelity?" Katarina asked again. Once again Ferrakan gave Bulmor a look, but after a moment he answered, "They are true. I witnessed the confession of her lover myself. It threw your legitimacy into question, which is one reason Duke Peter distanced himself from you and focused so much upon Hector."
Katarina felt her stomach roil. Could it be that Hector truly is the rightful heir? It didn't matter, she decided. She did have the blood. "The spirit of Southwatch recognized me as a direct descendant of Duke Ivan. I am my father's daughter."
"Well," Ferrakan hissed, "that's good to know."
They stood in silence and Katarina fought back tears. Bad enough that her father had taken a lover, but now it seemed that her mother had as well. Had it been Halyna Kail's machinations and manipulations that drove her mother into the arms of another man... or had she just been weak?
Katarina returned her gaze to Ferrakan. "What other rules do you have?"
"I want full access to the Castle Vault. There's weapons and armor there that your armsmen will need. For that matter, there's armor there that you'll want. I'll also want to look over the equipment you took from Southwatch. Most of it belongs to the Royal Guard. I know some of their families, who would want it back. They might well sign on under your army, for that matter. Sentimental bastards are always looking for a just cause."
He squinted at her, "I'll assume the story that you've sworn an oath to the High Kings is true?" When she nodded his scowl deepened, making his face look grotesque. "It's a damned silly thing to do, but there's no fixing that now. Best to make use of it." He squinted at her. "You'll get all sorts of odd people who think that's a good thing. I could care less if we're one Duchy on our own or five united under the High Kings."
The old man sighed, "What else..."
Oh, and I'll want a seat on your council. I don't give a crap about voicing my opinions, I just need to know everything that's going on so that I can plan for it."
"What about Bulmor?" Katarina asked, looking at the man who had protected and advised her since the beginning.
"He's going to be protecting your betrothed," Ferrakan said. "So don't expect to see much of him over the next few months.
"I don't think..."
"I don't care what you think," Ferrakan snapped. "It's my decision on personnel or I walk away. I've already discussed it with Bulmor. He's accepted it." Katarina didn't know what to say about that, so she just kept quiet for now. Ferrakan went on, "Oh, that snake Joris will stab you in the back. Try to find something on him soon and stretch his neck. Your father never had the stomach to do it."
"Trust me, it's on my list," Katarina said dryly. "Though hanging my father in law might not be good for my long-term relationship with my husband."
"He'll understand or else he won't and you can hang him too," Ferrakan waved a hand. "Oh, that reminds me. This Swordbreaker fellow."
"Aerion?" Katarina asked.
"That's the one," Ferrakan nodded. "Break it off with him. Get him the hell out of your life. I don't care how you do it. Sleep with him, screw his brains out on your wedding night if need be, but get over him. If you keep him around, it's always going to be a threat, a weakness that I can't guard you from."
Katarina stepped back in shock. She looked over at Bulmor, to see if he had told the old armsman, but Bulmor just shook his head.
"I'm not stupid, woman," Ferrakan said. "Half the commoner minstrels out there are talking up how he rushed to your rescue. If they go on about how chaste and virtuous you are much longer I'll probably vomit." He waved a hand, "Two hundred cycles of guarding the nobility has taught me that you're human, like the rest of us. If you aren't sleeping with him, you probably want to."
"I haven't," Katarina snapped.
"Then you want to," Ferrakan nodded. "Get him out of the picture as soon as you can. Kill him, send him on a mission, sleep with him, I don't care what you need to do, just do it. Soon."
Katarina glared at him. "Is that all?"
Ferr
akan gave her a nod. "That's my piece. I'll coordinate the rest with Bulmor, but Anghel, Gavril, and Mihaita will take over your protection starting now. We'll keep your other guards on outer perimeter until I recruit a full detachment. Once we do that, you can send them back to wherever you pulled them from." He scowled, "I might keep that big foreign fellow, seems to be useful, other than that the rest of them are more soldiers than bodyguards. You'd be better off using them that way."
"Well, that's why I have you, I suppose," Katarina said.
"Well, say your farewells to Bulmor, I'll go brief up your personal escort," Ferrakan said. The old armsman stalked out of the room.
"Well," Katarina sighed, "that was not what I'd hoped for."
"He's the best," Bulmor grunted. "He's not wrong about his skills. He's guarded the last four Dukes... and I do think your father would still be alive if he hadn't sent him away."
Katarina looked over at him, "Bulmor, are you certain about being sent to guard Lord Garrel? I mean, maybe I could convince him..."
Bulmor held up a hand. "My Lady, it has been my utmost pleasure to guard you. I see in you the potential to become a great leader, the ruler that the Duchy of Masov needs. Ferrakan has a point, though. I've guarded you for a number of cycles. In that time, I've grown... not complacent, but used to you. I've allowed you to put yourself at risk. I've accepted compromises out of necessity, compromises that I would otherwise find unacceptable. New eyes around you will be good... and I've no desire to be the Captain of your armsmen, my Lady. Not when there's one who is far more capable of the task."
"Thank you, Bulmor," Katarina said. Her armsman gave her a nod and the doors opened. A moment later, Anghel, Gavril, and Mihaita stepped in. Ferrakan called out from the corridor, "Armsman Bulmor, get out here, we need to go tell Lord Garrel that he has a new babysitter!"
***
Earl Joris of Olsztyn
Capulin Vale, Duchy of Masov
Twenty-third of Shallob, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Joris let out a groan as he dismounted. He hated riding long distances and Katarina had driven her army hard since the order to march. He spared no thoughts for his infantry, who had walked that distance.
His son had already had their men setup their tents and Joris stretched as he limped into his. He felt no surprise when he found his son waiting, feet up and reclining on a camp chair. "Father."
For once, Joris didn't demand his son rise. He knew that James had ridden even longer than him... and that he'd had to manage their scouts delicately given some of his tasks. "What news from your emissary?" Joris asked.
James sighed, "It goes slow, father. Covle is not trusting, especially not of me. He seems amenable to the idea of trading sides, but the problem is in the assurances and safeguards."
Joris nodded at that. He had broached the subject of amnesty for those of Hector's men who traded sides with Katarina. She seemed ready to agree other than some notable exceptions. While she had listed Covle as one of those exceptions, Joris knew that any position was negotiable. If Covle could bring down Hector, then she would have to grant him clemancy. Even if she wasn't smart enough to see sense, Joris would just have to frame the situation to give her no other choice.
Some kind of public announcement, he thought, something that if she opposes, she'll look like she's retracting her word. It would anger her to be cornered that way, but Joris felt little worry about any repercussions. He wouldn't do anything overtly illegal and she seemed to be cut from the same cloth as Duke Peter: too much of a straight arrow to resort to murder or retaliation.
"Use our best bargaining chip," Joris said after a long moment. "Tell him I will guarantee he weds Katarina."
James frowned, "But father, Garrel is already betrothed. You can't change that while he still lives..."
"I'll take care of it," Joris said with a sigh. He hated to waste a potential heir, but it wasn't as if Garrel was particularly noteworthy. He took too much after his mother and Joris’s own grandfather: bookish and interested in odd things.
For a moment, James looked as if he might argue it, but then he shrugged. He knew that winning Covle over would benefit the family, while Garrel was of little use beyond his value as an heir. James knew that family came first.
"Right," Joris said. "Let him know. If he wants a personal meeting with you, arrange for it and give him your personal word." Such assurances would almost definitely be necessary, Joris knew.
Joris would soon have one of Hector's best commanders on his side. Married off to Katarina, Covle could be an invaluable ally... one which Joris could dispose of after Katarina produced an heir. Maybe I can even dispose of both of them at once, Joris thought with a smile.
***
Lady Katarina Emberhill
Castle Redcoast, Barony of Redcoast, Duchy of Masov
Twenty-seventh of Shallob, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
"You'll need to put some thought into selecting a new Duke's Hound," Ferrakan rasped.
Katarina looked up from the papers and reports she'd been reading. "You don't think it's too premature?"
Ferrakan snorted, "Your father spent twenty cycles preparing Hector to be his Hound and even then he chose poorly. No, it's something you need to put some serious consideration into. The Duke's Hound, Duchess's Hound, whatever you want to call it, is the most important position you need to fill. They do your dirty work, ferret out spies and treason, but they also bring impartial justice to towns and villages you'll never have time to visit."
Katarina nodded at that. "There's a lot of damage that Grel did to the position that will need to be undone."
Ferrakan grimaced, "True enough. Appointing someone your people like would be a good step."
"What about Captain Swordbreaker?" Katarina asked.
"Terrible idea," Ferrakan growled. "You'll need to meet with your Hound on a regular basis. Besides, I told you to get rid of him, not bring him closer."
Katarina didn't acknowledge that comment. It wasn't as if she hadn't tried before. Yet it seemed even worse now. The occasional meeting with others wasn't bad, but now and again she would find herself in close proximity to him. She could recognize his smell and she ached to kiss him again, to feel his arms wrap around her.
"Do you have any recommendations?"
"Your scoutmaster is well received," Ferrakan growled. "Though since he's gone missing he's probably dead in a ditch somewhere. Your spymaster, this Kara girl might be good at it. Plenty of men that would underestimate her. Thing is, she'd need to receive a lot more weapons training. Even then, she'll never be as good a warrior as someone who trained their whole life."
"I'll consider it," Katarina said. She doubted that Kara would want the job. Also, Katarina worried that she wouldn't be impartial enough. Kara hated most of the nobility. Though she has been hanging around Lord Lukas since he saved her life, she admitted.
Katarina didn't know how she felt about that particular development. On the one hand, she felt responsible for Josef's death at Southwatch. He and the others who had died there had done so in her service. Katarina would be glad if Kara found some happiness, even love, after that.
On the other hand, losing her as her spymaster would be particularly painful.
Katarina glanced out the window, "Almost time to go."
Ferrakan barked out a command Mihaita hurried out. A moment later, Gavril and Anghel appeared through the side door, followed by Mihaita. Katarina gave them nods as she straightened out her desk and then rose. She found herself of mixed feelings about her new armsmen. There was none of the camaraderie that she had felt with Bulmor. Similarly, she felt little of the same connection. She had learned some about each of them, but they didn't open up to her like her soldiers had. They kept themselves distant in a way that was both oddly comforting and disconcerting.
The three of them had become her almost-constant companions. Bulmor's three sons, Bogdan, Ruslan, and Costel had the inner perimeter, while those of her former personal guard who passed
muster remained on the outer perimeter.
She felt more than a little odd as she walked through Castle Redcoast, led and followed by a dozen armed men and women. To make things feel odder still, Ferrakan watched everything with a cold, calculating look on his seamed and scarred face.
They came into the central hall and Katarina walked up the steps to stand on the platform. Normally this was where Baron Redcoast held court, but he had offered it up for her use while she was here. She nodded at Anghel, who moved over and opened the door.
The two nobles who entered could not be any more different physically. The woman was stocky, with pale skin and gray streaked black hair. She had an old, elaborate blue tattoo that covered the left side of her face and her face wore a number of scars and seams, almost as many as Ferrakan. She also wore a battered curaiss and a chainmail shirt.
The man who walked beside her was a short and plump. He had a cheerful face which seemed to always wear a smile, even under the rather serious circumstances. He wore no armor and while his his clothing was well made, it was simple.
The two of them came up to the edge of the platform and both knelt, “Lady Katarina,” Eleanor said, “Countess Darkriver and Baron Redcoast.”
“You have come to swear your loyalty to me?” Katarina asked. The formality was by Baron Theodore's suggestion. He thought it would send a message to Hector and she certainly didn't disagree.
“I do,” Countess Darkriver said. She commanded the Mongrels, one of the most powerful mercenary units in the world. Her companies of heavy cavalry and heavy infantry had fought on all three of Eoria's continents. The Countess herself had risen from an outcast Noric to one of the highest nobles in the Duchy of Masov in thirty cycles of almost constant fighting.
“I do,” Baron Redcoast said. The Baron of Redcoast ruled over not just the fertile lands along the Boir Sea, but also Capulin Vale, the most productive farming land in the Duchy. The Baron was well known as an afficando of good food and drink, but also for his business sense. He brought with him a massive fortune, far more than she had even guessed he possessed... and he put it towards the defeat of Lord Hector.
