“An infantry is easier to raise, swifter to train and costs the coffers less slips to employ. They can be used on any terrain, and even in defense of dragons. Lerdenian mages did not deflect the dragons that sided with the Daezun, it was the infantry and their ballistae that cleared the air of their assaults.” He stood waiting to see if he would be chastised in his answer.
“A fair argument to the mandated lessons on elements of an armed force.” Levielle looked around at his students. He motioned Alador to sit down as he turned to make his way back to the front of the class. “A true strategist learns what has been taught, but has the mind and skills to take what he knows and expand on it. If every general fought exactly and only as they were taught, many battles would be strictly a case of who had more men. It is with such an analyzation that a general can win the day with a smaller force.” He nodded at Alador. This look of approval did not win Alador any favor from his classmates based on the wide-eyed disbelief and frowns about him.
Levielle set Alador’s slate on his large desk again, then turned to address the whole class. “I am pleased that you all have been paying attention. Study your stratagem on battlefield formations for tomorrow.” His eyes met Alador’s. “All of you are dismissed … except for Alador. I wish to speak with you about your continued absences and tardiness.” He turned and moved around his desk.
Collective murmurs of pleasure at his being held after assaulted Alador’s ears as he made his way to the front of the class. He stood silently as the room cleared.
Master Levielle did not speak nor look up at Alador from where he now sat at his desk until the rest of the room had emptied. “Let me make this clear to you, guardsman. I don’t give one slip as to who your family is or what your skill is.” He looked up at Alador sternly as he put down his quill. “I don’t care what designs your uncle has, or what party your father wants you to attend. You will not miss another of my classes.”
Alador shifted uncomfortably. That would be nearly impossible to do as his uncle’s request for a hard Daezun winter would definitely overlap with Master Levielle’s classes. In addition, the assessment of his two relatives was uncomfortably accurate. “I apologize…”
The instructor raised a hand to silence the young mage before he continued. “I am also aware you are a pawn in a game you did not make.” Master Levielle shook his head sadly. “You are a smart lad. I suspect you will play a huge part in the future. I would rather you knew how to win on every field and not just in Lerdenian politics.”
He leaned back forward and handed Alador the paper he had been writing on. “Therefore, every time you miss a class, you will seek me out for private instruction at my home.” He nodded to the missive. “That will give you leave to attend me in the evenings.”
Alador looked at the note in his hand with disbelief. This was his uncle’s general. What game was the man playing? He noted the man’s fourth tier address. It was a high place for one not with magic. He met Levielle’s even gaze and could not discern any deception. “Thank you, Master Levielle. I will be sure to attend you.”
“Very good, then you are dismissed.” His instructor nodded towards the door.
Alador turned to leave in a bit of a daze, having prepared himself for a full lecture on timeliness. Levielle’s voice called him back.
“Guardsman...”
The mage turned to look at the general who was now standing. “Yes, Master Levielle?”
“Don’t forget your slate.”
Chapter Fifteen
Luthian was making his way through a pile of correspondence; one mind numbing letter after another. He had put off much of this work while he had recovered his strength from the duel. Now, it lay in an oppressive heap of mundane boredom. Keeping the city ministers around the country of Lerdenia in line and productive took a lot of political maneuvering. It was the one part of his position that he did not like; while he technically ruled over all of Lerdenia, the system allowed for so much debate that often issues stalled without resolution. There were mages that seemed to take excessive pleasure in hearing their own voice as they rambled on about issues they did not want to pass.
Luthian had the responsibility of Silverport, the capital of the Lerdenia, as well as meeting on the full and new moon with the other cities’ ministers. He was currently reading through a letter requesting additional supplies be sent north to High Plains Spire. It was a city with four tiers that provided trade in many gems and metals. It seemed that word of the impending difficult winter had already made its way to that council’s ears.
A knock sounded at his door. He did not look up, merely motioning for his guard to let the person in. Alador should be here this evening so he was expecting such an interruption. He did not look up till he heard the footsteps of his guest. He raised his eyes when there was a throaty cough. He noticed the tight clothing before he saw the face. It was not Alador standing before him, but Severent, his Master of Knowledge.
Severent had been sent to Smallbrook to discern more about Alador’s early life and those that may be of use in controlling his nephew. He slowly laid the letter that he had been reading upon his desk.
“You were gone for some time.” Luthian stated as he sat back in his chair, glaring at the man. His eyes roved over the thin figure clothed in drab grays that stood before him. The man’s hair was a dull color of red, almost an orange. He was a pock-faced man with limited magical skills, but what he did have seemed to allow him to move unnoticed through busy halls. This ability had drawn Luthian’s attention long before he was made minister. Severent had worked for him since he was a fourth tier mage.
The man bowed low before answering. “Daezun are a suspicious people.” His rough voice grated on the High Minister’s sensibilities. “It took a great deal to get the information that you were seeking.” He pulled a rolled piece of parchment from his vest. “I believe this report has everything you were looking for from the village of Smallbrook.” Severent handed the scroll across the desk.
“First things first, did my nephew really kill a man?” Luthian curiously asked as he leaned forward to take the scroll. He did not trust anything that Henrick had told him at this point.
“Indeed, knifed an older middlin over a girl.” Severent clasped his hands behind him after he handed over the scroll. He stood before Luthian, his body posture stiff. Luthian noted the dust of flight still was on the man’s clothing.
“A girl, you say?” Luthian smiled. Men only killed over women when there was an emotional attachment; for some men it was a matter of pride or possession while others spoke of love. Alador did not seem the type to fight for pride. He waved the scroll as he asked, “Any words as to her connection to my nephew?”
“They were to be house mates when she became eligible for their barbaric circle.” Severent’s disgust was evident even before he spit out the word barbaric. “Of all the things in your report, I think that will be the most useful.”
Luthian tapped the scroll against his lips. “Pretty girl?”
“By Daezun standards,” the lithe man answered. “Too stocky and willful for my tastes.” He wrinkled his nose in obvious distaste.
“Perhaps I should send her an invitation to come for a visit?” The sly look faded as he unrolled the scroll. The edges of Luthian’s mouth twitched upwards at this thought. The report was thorough, but then he had expected nothing less. There was a sketch of the village and the houses with occupants of interest were marked. In addition, there was a brief paragraph on all of Alador’s family and friends. The boy had a large family, which would be of use as well. He tossed the scroll down for a more in-depth reading later.
Luthian reached into a drawer and pulled out a small bag of slips. “Well done. You deserve a break.” He tossed it to Severent who caught it deftly. “Return to me in three days as I will have another task for you.”
Severent bowed low. “As my lord commands.” When he rose, he turned on his heel and left the room. His boots made hardly any sound as he crossed
the floor.
Luthian watched him till he was out the door before returning his attention to the report. Alador had negotiated to spare this small village from the brunt of Luthian’s plans. While the family aspect had been obvious, the girl was the key. Alador could be maneuvered through his affections for those in this village. It had been well worth the wait. He paid special attention to the words describing this Mesiande and what information that his man had been able to dig up.
Luthian unrolled the last of the scroll and was surprised to see a detailed sketch of the girl. Severent had captured her daydreaming with a faraway expression in her eyes. There was a strange sadness in them as well. Luthian stared at the Daezun female’s likeness. He could see what Alador found appealing in the girl’s face. Her braided hair only accentuated her cheekbones. It was too bad that she was from such simple pagan blood. Though Alador was a half-breed, Luthian had different plans for his nephew’s bonding than some village tart. He rolled up the scroll and slid it into a drawer of his desk.
Speaking of his nephew, the boy should have been here by now. He rose up and moved to the bell pull. Dinner was most likely on the table, and Luthian was not one to be kept waiting.
A servant slipped through the door eyeing the two stoic guards with concern. “Y-yes Lord Guldalian?”
“Send a runner to the caverns and find out what is keeping my nephew,” commanded the High Minister. “Have him report to the dining room.”
“The runner or your nephew?” asked the young man.
Luthian’s eyes narrowed. “Which ever one gets here first,” he stated coldly.
The servant nodded and hurried from the room. Luthian returned to the wine table and poured himself a glass before proceeding to the dining room. The two guards fell in behind him. Luthian took no note of their watchful presence. He had come to expect such positioning since becoming High Minister of Lerdenia.
He was halfway through his dinner when the young boy who had been sent to the caverns returned. The servant laid a small piece of parchment on the table beside Luthian then moved back keeping his head down in a manner that suggested that Luthian would not be pleased. Luthian raised a brow as he reached over for the note. Surely the boy had not refused to attend him on his half day as was their custom? He noted the High Master’s seal and broke it carefully, unfolding the short note.
Luthian did not notice the stilling of the serving women around him as he hissed and crumpled up the note. He rose so suddenly from his chair that one of the women squeaked as the chair went over and slid a short distance across the floor. “Boy, fetch me my cloak.” His words were so low in deadly tone that only the stillness of the room allowed him to be heard.
The young servant turned and ran. Luthian turned to one of the two men by the door. “Fetch four others, we are going calling upon the High Master of the Blackguard,” he sneered.
He turned and headed for the front of the hall. How dare the High Master deny him his nephew? What was worse was that the reason given had been that Alador had not returned to his duties and classes from his last half day. That would have been the day that Henrick left the city. The boy had expressed hatred and contempt for his father, and yet had not returned from his appointed half-day with the man. Luthian’s temper was so apparent that as he moved, others stepped far out of his way and became immobile as if remaining unnoticed might save them from the ire that was written on his face.
He swept his cloak from the servant’s trembling hands as he passed through the door. Guards fell into step with him as he headed for the stairs down to the fifth tier. Today, he thought, today it would be made clear who was in charge.
As Luthian moved swiftly through the city, a silence descended in front of him and a murmur grew behind him. He had no eyes for the populous as he was deep in his own thoughts and anger. He was not sure what he was going to do yet, but he planned to make it very evident that such matters were not to occur again.
The High Minister swept into the caverns much as the tides enter the caves below the city; a torrent of movement and force. He slammed open the door of the High Master’s office and the young man attending him jumped to his feet from his desk. Two more men were guarding the High Master’s inner door. Men who he knew had seen him when he used to come visit the caverns regularly.
“Leave us,” he commanded of the two men who guarded the High Master. They looked at each other with uncertainty then fled. Two of Luthian’s guards took their place.
Luthian turned to the boy behind the desk of this outer office. “Fetch the High Master’s second. He will be needed shortly.” His cold tones only created a wider look of fear in the young guard who then fled to do as he was told.
Luthian turned and eyed the door that stood between him and his prey. He hit it with a blast of commanded air so that it hit the wall behind it so hard that the wood split.
The High Master jumped to his feet. He swallowed hard before speaking; his eyes were wide with surprise. “M-my lord. We were not expecting you.”
Luthian turned and beckoned the door to close and it again slammed shut against the frame, dust fell from the nearby support timbers. He turned slowly to face the High Master again. “You dare to keep my nephew from me and do not have the nerve to deliver those words yourself!” The tone of accusation lay like frigid ice between them as their eyes locked.
Neither man moved for a long moment, then the High Master drew himself up and spoke. “You instructed he was to be treated as any other man of the Blackguard.” The man’s voice held an edge of frustration.
Luthian moved to the desk and leaned on it so that he was closer to the man. “Do you remember anywhere in those instructions that I was to be denied his presence?” His hissed words darted between them.
“Well no, but it was what would be done to any other man who was absent without permission,” the man crossed his arms with his own anger.
“He is not just any other man, now is he?” Luthian rose picking up a pen knife to twirl it lightly in his fingers. He recognized the handle as dragon’s bone. It was a finely made tool. “I find your incompetence has finally reached a point of intolerance.” He flipped the wood knife in his hand as if admiring the handle.
The High Master’s tone took on a dangerous edge of his own. “Lord Guldalian, please allow me to explain the larger picture.” The High Master’s hand wandered down towards his sword.
It was the move Luthian had been waiting for; he smiled as his hand moved subtly over the pen knife. He whispered the spell, “wiap ekess wer sauriv.” The High Master’s sword was pulled, the sword clearing the sheath as the spell ended. The pen knife jerked and flew from his hand. It embedded deeply into the High Master’s eye. The man had swung back to take a swing at Luthian, but it dropped from his hand as he fell to his knees howling. Luthian did not pause. Fire flew from his hands as he burned the man where he knelt. When he stopped, the burned corpse fell slowly over, the hands still clutched against the man’s face.
“Pity…” he began. Luthian stared down at the body for a long moment taking in the penknife protruding between the man’s fingers. “I rather liked that knife.” He turned on his heel and strode back to the door. He opened it calmly and stepped through being careful to shut the door behind him.
The boy from the desk was all but cowering over in the corner and at the same time, trying to stand at attention. There was a proud, older man now standing with one of Luthian’s guards. Luthian strode to him, expecting it to be the High Master’s second.
“You are the high master’s second?” Luthian asked, the edge of venom was missed by no one in the room.
“Yes, Lord Guldalian.” The man dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“Your name?” Luthian’s eyes were hard as he met the new High Master’s gaze.
“Reynel Bariton, High Minister.” The man bowed low. He had the poise of a man who had seen battle before and knew how to fight. His hand remained on his sword despite the presence of the guards attending Luthi
an.
“Master Bariton, you are High Master now.” Luthian stepped very close to the new High Master. “Let me make this very clear. My nephew is to be treated as any other guard in these halls with one exception.” Luthian held up one finger. “He is never to be kept from me, again.” Luthian leaned in to speak into the man’s ear. “Are we clear?”
Master Bariton did not turn his head to meet Luthian’s gaze. There was a hardness in his words though his tone remained respectful. “Very clear,” he answered back just as quietly.
Luthian stepped back and smiled. “Well, that takes care of that small matter.” He brushed his hands as if removing dirt from them. “I will borrow your young attendant for a short time as I would like to see my nephew. It has been some time since I have been in the halls.” He glanced at the terrified lad and back to Bariton. “That will not be a problem, will it?” he asked as if he had not just killed a man just minutes before, and his face seemed congenial.
“The hall was opened by your whim, therefore, the halls are yours to wander, my lord.” Bariton pointed to the lad. “It is after dinner, take the High Minister to the blue halls. If he isn’t there, then someone there should know where he is this evening.”
“Y-yes High Master.” The young man hurried to the door and looked back. “Right this way your Lordship.”
Luthian moved to follow but then hesitated and turned back to Bariton. “I fear I have made a mess of your new office. You may need to air it out for a day or two. I do apologize.” There was no sincerity in his words. Luthian turned to follow the nervous young guard through the maze of the Blackguard caverns.
Chapter Sixteen
Pseudo-Dragon (The Blue Dragon's Geas Book 4) Page 15
