Standing tall, William extended his arm and awaiting his lord.
Pressing against his gnarled cane Demetrix took a step closer, gripping the man’s forearm. Feeling the return, they gave a light shake and broke the customary embrace. He watched the man scurry out the door.
Gareth marched through the door, passing the lowly rogue on the way out. Nodding his acknowledgment he spotted Demetrix standing over the table, his focus returned to the maps. "Erik paid me a visit today."
Refusing to look up he listened to his friend approach. The larger warrior's presence pulled memories of pain to the surface. "Really, what’s he want?"
"He expressed desire to retain his father’s arrangement with us. He wouldn’t put it into so many words, but he also has his sights on Krondar. I’ve got a feeling he’s after more than free trade."
"I wouldn't put it past him. He's impulsive and a bit possessive. I fear it's only a matter of time until he shows his true colors."
Gareth agreed, glancing at the maps claiming the young ranger's attention. "More attacks?" He leaned over, inspecting the marked areas.
A heavy sigh escaped him. Breaking his focus he glanced up, studying his friend's aging face. "Unfortunately. We haven’t even figured out who they are yet. Every emissary I’ve sent has been sent back less a body. The messengers are refusing to take the job even at a hundred krons.”
Gareth chuckled, pulling an apple from his pouch. "I can’t say I blame ‘em. Hard to spend the money when your dead." He took a rather large bite out of the juicy red apple, crunching it between words.
“I can’t fault them for not wanting to risk it. In a polite world we’d all abide by the same standard rules. Don’t kill the messenger. Don’t leave your comrade behind enemy lines. Some people just can’t play in a polite society.” Demetrix wiped a few drops of apple juice from his map.
Swallowing prematurely, Gareth locked eyes on the young lord. “You got something to say?”
Abandoning the table, he pressed against the cane, turning to face Gareth. “I understand he told you to bring me back, but… Oh, just forget it.”
“No, you’ve got something to say, say it.”
Demetrix sighed, fully aware this conversation wasn't going to end as he hoped. “I don’t understand why you let him stay.”
“He does what he wants. I did what he asked me to. I can’t help that you’re pissed about me saving your life.” Gareth stated flatly, taking another bite of apple.
“I just… forget it. I’d have better luck talking to a tree.
Gareth shrugged. “Like you said, ‘Don’t kill the messenger’.”
Demetrix stared long and hard at the warrior. Shaking his head, he forced the subject change. “Speaking of messengers, what do you know of a woman called Senaria? I found an old letter from her in Ravion’s things. She’s also listed in his will. I was able to find mention of her in his journal, but there’s no record elsewhere.”
"Who?" Gareth asked, inspecting the half eaten apple.
"Senaria. From what little he wrote she’s the leader of a group called Mul'daron. He was rather vague as to who they are. According to his report, it looks like he commissioned enough supplies to build a fortress for them. He used the same tactics we did in building this place. So unless he built another Dreuslayer Keep somewhere in Krondar, there's a lot more to his lordship than he told us."
Gareth turned around, looking at the darstrol statue of the barbarian leader standing behind Ravion's chair. Scanning the others he looked upon Malakai, and trailed to Krenin, recalling the half-orc's fall. Looking away from their likeness he returned his gaze to Demetrix. “There is a keep, just before the mountain pass that leads to the coast. The people there, I took for alfar. They were the ones that found me after I lost my eye. There was a woman present that day. I never thought to ask, but I could tell he held her in high regard.”
“That settles it. I need to make a trip to Krondar. If he sheltered them, he had good reason. If I’m to do the same, I’d need to learn what that reason was.”
Gareth licked the juice from his fingers. “I’d accompany ya’, but I have other matters to attend.”
“Drinking and whoring aren't matters.”
“They are if you're retired.”
***
Demetrix shuffled the maps and parchment cluttered about the table, his aggravation growing in the chaos. There was so much to do and little time to do it. The world had changed so much in his absence, yet in many ways it remained the same. Seeing the marking he'd been searching for he pulled the forms from the pile, quickly rolling and shoving them in his pack. Krondar was a long journey and he didn't intend on forgetting anything.
A knock at the council room door roused him. “Enter.”
One of the guards stepped through the cracked barrier, snapping to attention. "Highlord Demetrix! Another emissary from Mount Thruan has arrived requesting your attention. Should I send him up?"
Demetrix closed his eyes, sighing annoyance. Returning his attention to the guard he pressed against his cane and hobbled toward him. “I have more important matters to tend than some petty grievance from a land that wants nothing to do with us.” Shaking his head, he continued. “Show him the refectory. I'm going to end this once and for all."
The guard turned and disappeared around the corner.
Slowly following after Demetrix took position along the balcony, watching the man approach.
The emissary strutted along the manicured pathway through the bailey. His head held high, he refused to give the slightest acknowledgment to anyone that didn't bare a noble status. His personal escort marched a few steps ahead while the guard Demetrix had spoken with trailed slightly behind.
The escort stepped to the side, taking position beside the archway leading into the dining hall.
The keep guard moved to the other side, allowing the man to enter alone.
Stepping from the balcony and using the banister to balance himself down the winding staircase, Demetrix studied the puffed up courier.
The man entered the refectory and took a seat, ignoring the few servants here and there.
This arrogant pup was in the wrong place for such a superior attitude. That was one thing he wouldn't tolerate from anybody. In Marbayne, the poorest peasant was shown equal respect as the lord. It wouldn't change this day. Nearing the bottom step Demetrix spoke, letting his voice carry over the near empty hall. "What’s your name, emissary?"
The man jumped, hearing the highlord’s voice. Spinning around he waited for the crippled man to reach the bottom of the stairs. Impatiently awaiting his approach he gave an exaggerated bow, more a show of protocol than respect. "Leandar Muales, My Lord."
“Take a seat, Leandar. I don’t have much time, but since you’ve made such a long journey I'll hear your words." He suppressed a smile, mocking the man’s length of travel. Mount Thruan was perched in the mountains to the west of Marbayne. It wasn't a difficult or long trip, being reachable within a day.
One of the servants rushed into the room and laid a golden platter to rest on the long, oaken tabletop. It was covered in sliced meats and dried bread layered out to display each piece, while protecting the one beneath it. She bowed respectfully to the emissary. “May I take your cloak and cover, sir?”
Another servant placed a silver goblet in front of the man, pouring a golden liquid into the cup. The man shed his layers, refusing to lower himself by speaking to her. The two disappeared as quickly as possible, watching for their services to be needed again.
Demetrix pulled out one of the chairs and took a seat, facing the messenger. "You must be parched from your trip down the mountain. Have your fill, we can talk afterward." Adjusting the wooden walking stick against his leg, he felt the pressure relieve slightly. Interlocking his fingers he rested them against his stomach and leaned back, impatiently watching the man stuff his face.
The emissary gorged, leaving little room for anything else. A loud belch escaped his mouth and he
pushed the platter away. The woman rushed over, claiming the platter. “Would you like more, sir?
He rubbed his belly, leaning against the high backed chair. “No, my appetite is sated. I would, however like another glass of mead.” He held the goblet up, spilling a small amount of the syrupy liquid on her dress.
She lifted the pitcher, lying not but a few feet away, and filled the cup. Laying it to rest once again she turned and disappeared.
Demetrix stared his discontent at the man, silently containing his rage. This disrespectful, glorified messenger would only lower himself to talk to the hired help if he needed something and was rude about it at that. He waited for the man to take another long draw of the freshly filled goblet. Timing it, he spoke, forcing the man to answer with a full mouth, lest show disrespect to his superior. "Now that your appetite is sated, what is it your queen has ordered you to say?"
Leandar searched for the words, thrown off guard by the invitation to dine. Buying as much time to swallow as he could, he cleared his throat. "My Lord, I was sent to inform you…" He retrieved a worn parchment from his pouch and unrolled it. Reading the missive aloud, he kept his eyes on the parchment. "Demetrix Santail, with Lord Ravion’s absence and your right to succession granting you entitlement to the lands of Krondar, you are hereby in violation of treaty seven-two-seven signed by the Coalition of Countries, stating that no one man may assume lordship over multiple lands without the previous consent of the CoC. In light of this violation, I offer you compromise.” Leandar paused and swallowed hard before continuing. “Surrender the lands known as Marbayne to Mount Thruan or we will unleash our newest weapon against your city. If you accept these terms, you and your men will be allowed to live in peace without change to your lifestyle. You will fly the banner of Mount Thruan and submit to her majesty’s rule. Sincerley, Cuariss Feiara, Royal Consort to Queen Kallop Feiara.”
Demetrix sat quietly refusing to show any gesture that would give away his thoughts. Swallowing his anger he carefully considered his options. Staring blankly at the messenger, refusing to blink, he watched the man shift uncomfortably in his seat. Decided on his response he calmly spoke, forcing his emotion into the pit of his stomach. "Your queen oversteps her bounds.”
“My Lord, I have everything in order. All the details are with me. If you’d like to view the treaty for yourself—”
Pulling himself upright in the chair Demetrix raised a finger, silencing the man. “I know what the treaty says. My name is written upon the parchment, same as the other lords. There’s one small factor in which your queen has overlooked. Despite my title of highlord, which by definition states that I rule multiple lands, if she’d bothered to do any research past her greed, she’d note that I’m not the sole benefactor to the deed of Marbayne, nor Krondar.” Rising from his seat he forced the pain away, hearing his cane clap loudly against the slate floor. He felt as if the unhealed bones inside his leg were grinding against one another, threatening to tear themselves apart. It took every ounce of resolve to put full weight on the injured leg and pretend as if it wasn't filled with crippling pain. Refusing to show any form of weakness he stepped toward the man, towering over him. “Now yes, I rule Marbayne as a glorified steward, an appointed position by the council, but I do not own her lands. The Order of the Trident does. It takes a majority rule of the council to determine any decisions. Of the five members, only two remain. Without full on war, resulting in the complete decimation of my people, you’re out of luck until the other seats have been filled. As for Krondar, Ravion’s Will did not grant me lordship over the barbarian peoples. That honor went to one, Senaria Mul'daron of Krondar. It falls to me to aid her in this duty. So with respect, I suggest you get your ass back up the mountain and give your queen a message from me.”
He leaned in close, letting the pain fuel his rage. “If she ever thinks of sending a single man to my walls over this bullshit again, I’m going to personally march to that cesspit you call home and put a leash on the bitch myself!” His anger boiled like a poison trying to escape his body. Unable to stop himself he kicked the chair out from under the emissary, feeling the bone snap under the exerted pressure. "Get the fuck out of my lands!"
Leandar crashed to the floor unsure of what had just happened. He jumped up, looking at his mead stained tunic. Visibly shaken, he dusted himself off and ran for the courtyard.
Demetrix held strong, watching thte arrogant prick scurry for the exit. Seeing him pass out of sight he crashed to the floor, letting his wounds overcome him.
***
Staring at the missive, the path revealed itself as the words described. The moonlight showed a perfect trial through the rocky outcropping. Carefully making his way down, Demetrix felt the molded rawhide around his leg. It rubbed the sensitive skin, chaffing terribly. Ignoring the discomfort he pressed on, pushing against his cane and selecting where he was going to step. In no time he reached the bottom, lost in the sight of the massive keep before him. How he hadn't seen it from the high rise was a mystery, but not one worthy of his attention. Approaching the outer wall, he froze, lost in the sight of the blue aura surrounding the man. “Wha…? How do you exist?” He knew they weren't true dalari, at least not in the manner he knew of them. But a rose by any other name remained a rose. This one had simply been taken apart and put back together. From the look on the guard's face, he had no idea what he was talking about.
“Highlord Demetrix?”
“That I am.”
“Lady Senaria is expecting you. This way please.” He turned and stepped through the sealed barricade.
Demetrix followed after, too lost in the discovery of this nest to pay attention to the structures around him. How many are there? He felt like a child receiving presents for the first time. In this case it was the restoration of his race. Ravion did it. He found them! Unable to contain his smile he followed the man through the salvaged archway and through the courtyard. They were everywhere. Some trained with sword while others expressed themselves in art and music, learning their individuality. It was a wondrous sight to behold. Without realizing it he was already inside the keep.
Making his way through the winding corridors, he was led to an upstairs reception hall. Taking a place at the end of a long table, he paused, awaiting his announcement. A woman stood,looking out the window at the far side of the room, her back to the door.
“Highlord Demetrix Santail to see you, My Lady.” The guard bowed and left the room.
She turned, looking upon the young lord. He was several inches shorter than Ravion and had dark brown hair opposed to the red she longed to see once again, but his features held similar appearance. He, however, wasn't Ravion. “You said you had news of Ravion?” Senaria prompted, gesturing toward one of the chairs. She walked nearly half way across the room and pulled out a seat not far from the one she'd suggested.
He didn’t know how long he’d been staring, but judging from her expression he was making a fool of himself. Giving a slight bow, Demetrix collected himself and took a seat. Reaching into his satchel he retrieved a sealed scroll and slid it across the table to her. “I thank you for seeing me. I must say this place is extremely difficult to locate without guidance. Well done on that.” Shifting to formal business, he took a deep breath and gestured to the sealed scroll. “As you already know, I’m Ravion’s brother. I regret to inform you that we underwent a trip not long ago. Sadly this was a trip Ravion will not be returning from.” He could see the pain in her eyes. She sat in silence, burying her feelings.
“Is… Is he dead?” She adjusted in the wooden chair, wishing she could release the pain building inside her. It was the worst pain she could imagine. Yet there was hope.
“He wasn’t when I last saw him, but I can’t say with certainty if that’s changed. As far as I’ve been told, he made the choice to stay behind.” A spark ignited behind her eyes.
Senaria remained silent, listing to what he had to say. If Ravion chose to say, there was a good reason for it. She would se
e him again even if she had to go to him.
Allowing her a moment to process, he continued. “In addition to this news, I wished to inform you that you were named in his Will. It’s a little strange, exercising a man’s last testament before his passing, but in this case it’s unlikely he’ll be returning.” He waited for her to unroll the scroll. “What you hold there is the deed to the lands of Krondar. He left it’s lordship to your care. I’ll assist you as best I can, but my time will also be needed in my own lands. Should you require anything, please send message to Marbayne. I’ll answer when duty permits.”
She looked up from the document, studying his face. “We just met, why would you assist me?”
Caught off guard by the question, Demetrix selected the best response. “My Lady, Ravion was my brother. I don't know how you two found each other, but in going through his things, I learned that he was extremely fond of you. That piqued my interest. For that reason alone, I offer my support. But then I got here and I saw your people. Had I not felt obligated beforehand, I would now.”
She raised an eyebrow at the statement.
“I don't know what Ravion told you about our kind, and I don't wish to confuse you in any way, but your people seem to have a strong connection to mine. Ravion must have seen this, which I'm sure had some part in his motives. Ravion aside, this explains my motives. If your people are indeed related to mine, and I believe you are, I'll do all I can to aid you.” He pushed himself up, steadying himself against the wooden supports. “My Lady Senaria, it’s been a privilege meeting you. I hope to share words again in the near future, but I'm afraid I must return to Marbayne. The attacks have moved fairly close to these parts. I'd prefer to reach Shadgull before nightfall.” Taking his own weight, he gave a final bow and turned, leaving her to her affairs.
***
A gentle breeze blew across the forested courtyard. The clash of swords echoed through the trees, calm and precise.
The Order of the Trident: Speculum (Eldarlands Book 2) Page 29
