by Kal Spriggs
Hector closed his eyes, “Very well, cousin.”
He drew his sword and swung it in one swift motion. The blade slashed across his cousin's throat, and a spray of blood fanned out across his books. Baron Estrel fell back in his chair, and his hands grasped at his ripped throat.
“I am sorry,” Lord Hector said, “but you left me no choice.”
He walked past the table to the door. He took a deep breath, then opened it.
He saw Robert Grayson turn. The old armsman had a moment to see Hector in the doorway, bloodied sword drawn. Hector did not give him time to react. He stepped forward and drove his blade into the armsman's chest, all the way to the hilt, then caught him as he slumped.
“Why...” Grayson whispered.
“Because there was no other way,” Hector said. He held his old friend as he died, and some part of Hector died when he felt the last quiver go through Grayson's body. He lowered his dead friend to the floor, and glanced at Sergeant Grel. “Secure the room. No one enters without my word.”
The sergeant gave him a solid nod. His calm under the circumstances gave Hector pause and made him note that the sergeant might prove useful for other circumstances.
Hector drew the Grayson's sword. He retraced his steps to the foyer and found Sergeant Steffan and Lady Rinata had paused their conversation. Estrel's wife looked up at him with a look of confusion. “Hector, I thought I heard something...” Her eyes dropped to the sword in his hand. Hector saw realization flash through her eyes.
She reacted without hesitation. Sergeant Steffan's hand had dropped to his own blade, but Lady Rinata whipped a hidden knife from her sleeve and drove it into his throat before he could react.
Hector gave a curse and ran towards her. She ran for the door. Hector leapt off the stairs and felt something pop in his ankle as he landed in a stumble, between her and the doors. She tried to skid to a stop, but the smooth stone tiles made her slide towards him. Hector brought the sword up in a lunge. She twisted to the side at the last instant, and his strike caught her through the side rather than cleanly through the heart. She let out a shrill scream of pain, even as she whipped her blade at his face.
Hector dropped the sword and stumbled back. He clutched at his face in pain. He heard the doors open behind him. He turned to find the two armsmen from outside. They stared between him and the wounded Lady Rinata in shock for a second. Hector used their hesitation. He reached down and ripped the sword out of her and spun to attack the nearest. His sword caught the younger man before he could get his own blade out. The other leapt to attack with a shout of alarm. Hector blocked the strike and then lunged to run the guard through.
He looked down and saw Rinata clutch at her side. “Why? We loved you like a brother! Why would you–”
Hector thrust down with the sword. He left it planted in her heart.
He stumbled away from the bodies and took a seat on one of the chairs. A moment later, several of his own guards swept in, followed by servants and more armsmen. “Captain Grayson and the two guards on duty went mad,” Hector said. He clutched at the cut on his face. “They attacked Lady Rinata, and when I went upstairs, I found they'd killed Baron Estrel.”
His own men stood silent, while the remaining armsmen stood in shock. Several of the servants gave out wails, and Hector saw Lady Rinata's maids rush to her side.
“There can be no doubt of Captain Grayson's guilt,” Hector said. “He left his sword planted in her.”
Sergeant Tunel, Grayson's second in command stared between the bodies and Hector. “My Lord... this is impossible. Captain Grayson would never hurt them.”
“I came here to confront him,” Hector said. “I found paperwork that suggested he had debts to a criminal and he had sold information to the Armen to pay off those debts. I never expected his betrayal ran so deep.”
“This...” Tunel looked between Hector and the bodies of his men. “Lord Hector, you are the senior ranking man on the scene. However, I must request that you send for one of Duke Peter's officers to investigate and magistrates to take down sworn statements.”
“Of course,” Hector said, “I will dispatch a messenger at once.” He looked over at his guards, who stood unobtrusively at the doors. “Secure the area and send a runner to Magistrate Helman. Tell him we need him here to take statements and collect evidence. Also, send for a courier and I'll write up a message for him to deliver to Duke Peter, along with a request for his assistance in this matter.”
Sergeant Tunel nodded and Hector saw him relax slightly. Even so, the armsman continued to look suspicious. Hector made note of that. He would have to make sure that some evidence implicated the armsman... and that he suffered a fatal wound when he resisted arrest. It pained him to kill another good fighting man, but armsmen were loyal to their charges first and foremost.
He did not expect for the story to last or even for most to believe it. But it would serve as a polite fiction. Magistrate Helman would find the evidence which would uphold Hector's story. Whatever officer arrived from Duke Peter, he would have only Hector's men as witnesses and evidence collected by Helman would support their story.
In the meantime, Hector would take his cousin's position, as both the senior military officer and the nearest blood relation. He knew that some others might have claims to the once-wealthy barony, but few would want to press those given the Armen threat and the state of disrepair.
Hector glanced around the room. “Let us hope that this is the end of any treasonous plot,” he said. He spoke the truth, for he wanted no more bloodshed. Let this be the end, he thought, let Duke Peter accept this, despite whatever suspicions arise.
***
Lord Hector
City of Longhaven, Longhaven Barony
Twelfth of Inkar cycle 994 Post Sundering
Lord Hector leaned back in his chair and met the gaze of his guest. “Welcome Master Chanrana.” He still felt somewhat uneasy in his new chair. It was a large, comfortable thing that Baron Estrel had custom built. He forced himself to sit in it mostly because it forced others to view him as the Baron. Yet, with the benefits of such things, he had gained even more weight of responsibility.
That responsibility led him to his guest.
His guest smiled. Chanrana's sharpened teeth and his yellow complexion made him seem alien and strange. His cloying perfume and his oiled and elaborately curled lengthy black hair added to his oddness. Lord Hector disguised his own distaste with the other man, however. “Please, Lord Hector, you need not be so formal with a mere merchant such as I, you may call me Brahma.”
“Very well, Master Chanrana,” Hector said. He knew that the 'merchant' spoke falsely. Brahma Chanrana was one of the more powerful scions of House Ranjuputar. But he'd come here quietly, so perhaps he wanted to keep up appearances. Hector forced a smile in return. “I understand that you have a trade proposal.”
“More than that, Lord Hector, I have an offer of trade from House Ranjuputar itself,” Brahma Chanrana smiled. “They wish to open Longhaven to their trade, and in return, they offer five thousand Rajputs a cycle.”
“Five thousand?” Hector asked. That amounted to over five hundred Solars, which would go a long distance to expanding the forces of the Longhaven Barony. He could equip a soldier for two gold Solars or hire a mercenary with one. “That's quite a bargain.”
“Indeed...” Brahma all but purred, “But we feel that a friend such as you makes it a good bargain, on both our parts.” He opened his leather folder and extended a parchment document, stamped with several wax seals, and above it the symbol of House Ranjuputar's god Kaliva.
Hector barely kept a look of distaste off his face at that. Too much of what he knew of the Vendakar and their twin gods reminded him of the Armen raiders he fought. “I am surprised that my barony has attracted the attention of House Ranjuputar.”
“Oh, you might say that we've had our eye on this area for some time,” Brahma said. “Actually, we tried to open your ports before, but Baron Estrel
proved recalcitrant to such trade.”
“Duke Peter has his doubts as to the trustworthiness of the Vendakar,” Hector said. He kept his voice level, so as to neither encourage or discourage Chanrana on his own perspective.
“Very understandable. During the time of the High Kings, many of the Houses fought what they saw as an unfair balance of power. I think, however, that in these times, your Duchy needs friends.” Brahma shrugged. “My House can open those friendships. And if you open to our House, I am told that other Great Houses of Vendakar similarly wish to open trade.”
“Oh?” Lord Hector asked. He had heard that the Great Houses of Vendakar schemed and plotted against each other in every move they made. It made some sense that where one House might gain a foothold for trade and income, the others would follow. Yet even so, he frowned. Vendakar was a long voyage down the Ryft or an even longer voyage around the length of the Duchy of Masov, through the treacherous waters of the Shrouded Coast. Why the Vendakar would seek to trade so far afield made him curious. Though he'd admit, opening trade with any part of the Duchy must seem ideal.
“Yes, in particular, I have heard that an Envoy from House Rajpakopol has just left Vendakar. And another Envoy from House Rajdahar has just arrived, though he awaits your permission before he sets foot on your lands,” Brahma Chanrana smiled.
Hector felt his blood chill at those words. Rumors of House Rajpakopol made them out to be hedonists of the worst sort: their elite partook in orgies, cannibalism, and bestial rites to please their own base urges and to sate their god Kaliva. Their behavior in other civilized lands made them unwelcome at best. Duke Peter had a standing order to arrest their slavers if caught in his lands.
The stories of House Rajdahar seemed worse by far, however. The goddess Shivenkaru represented death and emptiness as much as Kaliva represented bestial life. Her followers sacrificed scores of men, women, and children to her on a daily basis, and rumors suggested that House Rajdahar had risen to its current preeminence among the Vendakar through a cult of death-worshiping assassins. Whatever the truth, the House lay under a banishment on pain of death from all of the Five Duchies and had since before the time of the High Kings.
Yet... both Houses had great wealth. More importantly, Lord Hector knew that their mercenaries had a solid reputation of toughness and relative loyalty. He had begun to rebuild the Longhaven Barony's forces, but that took time. He had already hired a number of mercenary companies, but theVendakar had entire battalions of mercenaries they could hire out. A battalion or two of fierce soldiers might well turn the tide of the fight he faced when the Armen raiders came in force in the spring.
And I may well need assassins if the rumors from Castle Emberhill portray Duke Peter's actual intentions about my fate, Hector thought darkly.
“I shall have to consider this offer, Brahma,” Hector said. He saw the other man's eyes light up at the use of his first name. “And I must consult with my advisors to gain a better perspective on this trade offer.”
“Of course, Lord Hector,” Brahma Chanrana said. “I shall await your decision.”
***
Lord Hector stepped into the library. His dark gaze went first to the desk where he had killed his cousin, Baron Estrel and then to the man who sat at his ease, book in hand, before the fireplace. His guest rose and gave him a florid bow, “Baron, as always, it is my pleasure to be of service.” He wore a finely tailored tunic and hose and the jeweled hilt of his sword sparkled in the light from the fireplace. The tall blonde man had a wide jaw and wore a neatly trimmed goatee and mustache in the fashion of the Duchy of Boir. Not much of a surprise since he'd spent the past couple cycles there in exile. And for damned good reason, Hector thought, if I were the Duke, I'd have had him executed for what he all but demanded as his 'due.' The man's face was handsome, but the superior sneer that lurked beneath his every expression ruined that.
“Covle Darkbit,” Hector said. He restrained a sigh at the other man's theatrics, but though Covle grated on him, Hector understood the other man well. They came from similar backgrounds, both the bastard born sons of noblemen, unclaimed, yet established in places of trust. It's just that I never wanted any of the trappings of power, but Covle yearns for them, Hector thought. “What news from the court of Duke Peter?”
“Oh, there is much gossip... especially in regards to you, my Lord,” Covle said. “All of it very interesting indeed.” He smiled and sat back. Hector saw the other man stroke the spine of the book he held. “There are some that say Duke Peter ordered you to kill his cousin, Estrel, in order to supplant him; others say that you did it in the first step to replace the Duke. There are some who whisper about how the Baron of Zielona Gora has volunteered a battalion of his house troops and militia to march on Longhaven and that the Earl of Olzstyn has secretly marshaled a force of his own.”
“I see,” Hector said. “Very interesting... yet not what we discussed previously. You said you knew someone who could give me the truth, not just rumors. If necessary, you spoke of putting your own particular skills to use and that you knew of other men who would be of equal use.”
“I did,” Covle said. His smile vanished, and a look of absolute hunger appeared on his face. “And you also had offers. You have yet to make any of them reality. I am somehow aware of the fate of other men who called you friend... one of them died in this room, did he not?”
“He did,” Hector said. “And I killed him because he left me no choice. Remember that.” Hector forced himself to take a deep breath. “You ask for a great deal, particularly with your desire to marry the girl. In light of what will happen to the rest of her family, that will put you in a unique position to... challenge my own position as it were.”
“Pay off my debts, grant me control over the lands I requested... and in particular, make certain my father survives, and I'll give you the information you want. The girl... well, I'll admit that could be awkward for you,” Covle Darkbit said. “But look at it from my perspective. They spat upon my service and my father makes jokes at what happened to me, even as he arranges for his legitimate son to marry the girl. I deserve that, just as you deserve to be hailed as a hero for doing the necessary deed.”
“I'm no hero,” Hector snapped. “But I understand your position. Very well, I'll grant your other conditions, all but the marriage. That will require your other services, should they prove necessary.”
Covle set his book aside and drew a sealed letter from inside his coat. “This came from Duke Peter's study... acquired at great risk to myself, you understand. Unfortunately, it seems some clumsy servant knocked over a candle and set the desk afire. The Duke will not realize I took it, and the servant... well you need not worry that he'll tell tales.”
Hector took the letter, but he kept his eyes on Covle, as he would a dangerous snake, “And what does it say?”
“Duke Peter has become unhappy with the situation. In particular, he worries it sets a bad precedent. There's also the fear that you may seek to take a bit more power... perhaps even capture Castle Emberhill. For all that he understands your actions, he has ordered his Hound to prepare an investigation, procure witnesses, and in particular, find the proof necessary to convict you. He wants a quiet execution, more to dissuade any younger sons from emulating your own behavior than anything else.”
“The Duke's Hound?” Hector winced. Of all the men to send against him, Hector had hoped that his mentor would not be the one. The Duke's Hound was almost two hundred cycles old, and had served both the Duke and his father. The old man would be fiercely loyal, and Hector had no doubts as to who he would side with. The position was the Duke's highest investigator– a man who sometimes served as judge, jury, and executioner of the Duke's Justice. “Any timeline on it?”
“After this cycle's spring campaign,” Covle said. “Duke Peter does not want to further destabilize the Barony before the Armen raiders come, especially not with the closely fought battles of last cycle. And he's had rumors that your forces will conta
in a number of mercenaries, so he hopes that you will pay them off after the campaign and leave fewer armed men to worry about if it comes to a fight.”
Lord Hector closed his eyes. “Has he taken any actions against my mother- that is Miss Kail?”
“Your father's mistress remains unharmed, though I understand she has tried to gain audience with the Duke,” Covle said. “It might have gone better if your father hadn't died last cycle. Then again, since he never acknowledged you, you might well be thrown to the wolves anyway.” He spoke truly enough. Lord Mihkel had spent most of his days drinking and carousing, he never had cared for any of his illegitimate offspring. Hector only rose as high as he had because Duke Peter had heard his mother's story and brought him back to Castle Emberhill.
“Very well,” Hector sighed, “Duke Peter's left me no choice.” It pained him, to turn on the man, yet Duke Peter had set the circumstances of this betrayal. Hector had seen how the other man had continued to fail to rein in the various noblemen. He'd allowed Estrel to go unchecked for decades... no, Duke Peter had allowed the Duchy of Masov to moulder and this was what came of it. I gave him my loyalty, Hector thought, and he turned upon me in the end.
“So my services will be required?” Covle said.
“Yes. And your last price... the girl will be yours. As her guardian until she reaches the age of consent... and your bride after that,” Hector shivered a bit at the look of pleasure that flashed across Covle's face. It would, he decided, be a mercy if the girl died, if only to spare her the misery of Covle's companionship. “But you must deliver – my men will need a clear path into Castle Emberhill, and this strike must succeed. The alternative is to provoke a civil war. While I might win that... the Armen raiders will do too much damage. I will surrender to avoid that... and if I must do so, you can guarantee that you will not survive.”
