There was much applause at that – Castal’s lackluster naval performance had inspired plenty of strutting amongst the Alshari Sea Lords who’d fought against them this summer, but who had accepted Anguin’s offer of amnesty. Especially with the Farisi pirates once again loose on the sea lanes, that would be an important point of development for the kingdom.
I heard later that while Tavard was dead-set against the idea of the Seahold, Rard insisted, as punishment for his commandeering the Farisi harbor defense fleet. It was an expensive lesson – the coastal baronies brought in a lot of taxes to the duchy – but perhaps it would persuade Tavard that his future as a great war leader was destined to be from the back of a horse, not the deck of a ship.
“Lastly, I yield to my nephew, Duke Anguin, to announce the reorganization of his own newly-expanded realm.”
Anguin came forward and bowed to his aunt and uncle, before addressing the counts.
“As everyone knows, my realm has only been recently restored – yet it is not undamaged. The fortunes of war have dictated that the old order in the Wilderlands will not stand, and therefore must be amended to ensure the efficient defense of the realm.
“Just because I have taken my rightful throne in Falas does not mean I have abandoned my responsibilities or my overlordship of the Wilderlands . . . or Alshari Gilmora,” he added. “But with so much pressing business south, I have decided to delegate the direct responsibilities for the defense of the Wilderlands to those best suited to bear them.
“After long and studious consideration, my court and I have decided to retain the Summer Capital at Vorone as a Ducal territory. But south of Vorone, from the Five Rivers Valley to the very gates of southern Alshar, and encompassing all of its traditional territories, there shall be established the Wilderlaw, a County Palatine, with Count Marcadine named Count Palatine thereof.
“In the Wilderlands north of the Five Rivers Valley, from Green Hill north to the extent of my realm, I establish the Magelaw, in honor of the magi who have fought so valiantly for the defense of the realm, as a County Palatine. I name Baron Minalan the Spellmonger as Count Palatine thereof.”
There was a rushing in my ears. From what I learned later, the Magolith began bobbing worrisomely behind me. I only barely heard the rest of Anguin’s speech.
“Since before my coronation, Minalan has taken it upon himself to see to the defense not just of the Wilderlands, but of the entire realm. He has loosed the chains that bound magic to irrelevancy and turned it into the sharpest of swords against our foe. In him the ancient wisdom of the Archmagi lives again – more, for he enjoys, it is said, the counsel of Alka Alon and the gods, themselves.
“I can personally attest to his wisdom and cunning,” he continued, to an enrapt court. “He is as subtle as any wizard who has ever lived. I can attest to his valor, having witnessed it myself. I stand witness to his dedication to the lives of everyone in the kingdom, commoner and nobleman alike. And I can swear an oath to the great enmity he bears our darkest foes,” he added. “No one has struggled more valiantly against Sheruel and Korbal than he.
“Yet Minalan is not most adept when he is a diplomat or a warrior. He is best when he is using his magic, his craft, and his wisdom to improve the lives of the people he rules. When he had a choice of lands, after the fateful battle of Timberwatch, in which my sire fell, he selected the least of lands, a stony domain far from the abundant vales of the Riverlands.
“And in that hilly little territory he used magic and wisdom to forge mighty works. More, he lifted up his subjects until his villeins enjoy as superb a prosperity as his burghers. He took a village and transformed it into a city. He took a profession long disparaged and turned it into a weapon and a tool of great power.
“For the strength of the Spellmonger, I have found, is his compassion,” he revealed. “He looks for the best in the folk he meets, and if he finds merit he helps them accomplish their dreams and desires. Not for the love of gold or the thrill of power, but for the pure compassion he feels for his fellows, and the joyous reward their success provides.
“Such character is rare, these days – if it has ever been in goodly supply. But when a man of common origins distinguishes himself so repeatedly and so profoundly, it is clear that he is the man best suited to rule the wild frontiers of our country,” he declared. “When a man who counts the very gods amongst his confidantes is available to take the lead in a kingdom destined for war, yet unprepared for it . . . a duke is a fool if he does not take advantage of others’ short-sightedness. And I am no fool.
“Therefore, inviting Minalan the Spellmonger to assume the post of Count Palatine will not only put a wise man in a position of authority, it will also grant him the ability to bring the knowledge and wisdom that transformed Sevendor from a destitute domain to the center of a thriving barony to the Magelaw.
“There he will find the raw materials for his enchantments: freed slaves, brave Wilderlords, and as many magi as he wishes to encourage to settle, there. It is a wild and empty country, full of promise and danger. It faces the worst of our foes in the Penumbra. It guards the best of our allies in the Kulines. And it wards the rest of our kingdom from assault and invasion from the shadow.
“I can think of no better opportunity, for Alshar or the Kingdom, than to see Minalan take his place as your peer. Let me be the first to hail you, then, as Minalan, Called the Spellmonger, Count Palatine of the Magelaw.”
There was applause. There were embraces. I humbly came forth, got on my knees, and took the oath of fealty. And when I rose, everyone called me Count Minalan.
But I barely remember it. I was in complete shock.
Why does this shit keep happening to me?
“You just gave me half your realm,” I accused Anguin, later that night, as the Alshari delegation congregated in a hall outside the palace that was, afterwards, known as the Alshari Hall. “Why did you do that?”
“It’s actually less than a tithe of my realm, and it was Pentandra’s idea,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, eventually it was. We knew that Marcadine could rule the remaining intact Wilderlords in the south – those whose lands were largely spared by the invasion. But the north was always a problem.
“Some counselled we abandon it altogether, and retreat back to Vorone – but why bother?” he asked, rhetorically, as Tyndal brought him a goblet of wine. “We had people there. And not much else. So . . . Pentandra suggested we give it to the magi. The idea has apparently been floating around since after Timberwatch, but no one ever did anything official about it. With all of the south for me to govern, now, I need people I can trust locally to ensure the security of those lands.”
“But why me? Why not Astyral?”
“He was my second choice,” Anguin admitted. “Count Angrial lobbied on his behalf. Terleman, too, seemed a good match. But then so did Pentandra. In truth, Astyral is more use in Gilmora than the Wilderlaw. When my idiot cousin exiled you, I figured it was an ideal time to give you some place to go. And something useful to do. Like you did with me, a few years ago.”
“That’s incredibly generous of you, Your Grace—”
“No, the hells it is not,” Anguin countered, with an easy arrogance. “It’s not generous at all. If anything, I’m putting an anchor around your neck. You’ve seen what’s left of the Wilderlands – hells, you walked nearly every inch of it. I’m handing you a half-formed lump of clay and a handful of hopes. I’m not granting you riches and glory.”
“I have a sufficiency of both,” I said, dryly. “No, what you grant me is a boon, when I am at my lowest. Honestly, I thought I was going to have to open up a spellmonger’s shop in Vorone, or something. Instead, when I am feeling worthless and cast aside, you offer me an opportunity.”
“Did you not do the same for me, once?” he asked, quietly. “I was drinking myself sick and losing every joust I fought, and you pulled me out of that and sat me back on my throne. Against Grendine’s wishes – no small feat, that,” he said,
admiringly. “You gave me purpose, and a challenge: to see my realm re-conquered for my house. Because of you, that is now a reality. If you need the boon of opportunity, I’m happy to grant you the chaotic dungheap the Wilderlands has become.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say, Your Grace,” I said, humbly.
“Don’t thank me,” he warned. “As I said, I’ve hung an anchor around your neck. No doubt you will pine horribly for your home, but you must contend with the wilds of Alshar, instead. There isn’t a decent hall, tavern, or temple left in the region, and I believe you are familiar with the neighbors,” he added.
“I . . . think I can accept that challenge, Your Grace,” I said, after a few quiet moments of thought. “Indeed, I happily accept it. Perhaps I can recreate the success of Sevendor without the mistakes I made there.”
“I’m confident that you will make entirely new ones, as well,” he chuckled. “That is the lot for those who rule.”
“So I am beginning to see. Uh, I hesitate to ask, but . . . what’s the difference between a count and a count palatine? Specifically? That’s not something they covered at Inrion Academy.”
“Well, as you know a count is the senior official in charge of the defenses of a particular region,” Anguin explained. “A viscount is responsible for the defense of a smaller region, usually. That means that they inspect the baronial castles, ensure the roads and bridges are in repair, sponsor training and practices within the county, ensures that the garrisons are properly constituted and supplied . . .”
“I understand that part,” I nodded.
“A Count Palatine has all those duties, but more. He has all but ultimate sovereignty over his county. Near independent control, with only the duke, himself, above him in position. And the king, now,” he amended. “That implies certain sovereign rights usually reserved exclusively for the ducal houses.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for one thing, you can mint your own coins,” he pointed out, ticking off a list of feudal goodies I was now entitled to. “You can build castles anywhere you please. You may train men without restriction. You can designate Marshals of the Realm, at need. You may build bridges between domains or baronies, at your discretion, provided you arrange for their upkeep and maintenance to be funded. You may establish what temples you wish, wherever you wish. You may establish hereditary rights and obligations, customs, and laws. You can charter guilds. You can grant arms and devices. You may manumit or change the status of a bondsman. You may nullify court findings in baronial courts, at your discretion. You can pardon a man condemned in a baronial or manorial court.
“You have the right to grant land or seize it, for military use. You have the right to extract minerals, collect timber, and harvest fish from any river in the county, or to delegate that right for grant or fee. You can charge tolls on any roads you maintain which can pass two carts, side-by-side. You may forbid the marriage of any noble vassal of yours. You may designate unclaimed lands for your own use for hunting and herding. You may set basic prices on iron, salt, and certain implements of war. You have the power to conscript forces in emergencies for defense, as well as the responsibility to see that all able-bodied men receive basic military training.
“Oh,” he continued, recalling some obscure bit of law he’d read, “a Count Palatine also has the power to negotiate and make war with other states, as long as he informs the duke of the results. He can demand the first barrel of any shipment of ale, wine, or beer, one horse of his choice out of every herd of one hundred sold at market, and by tradition gets an option on a journeyman artisan’s first master piece, if he so chooses. He can set fees for esquiring, knighting, and the practice of arms, and he can mandate up to two days a month be devoted to archery practice,” he finished. “I think that’s most of it.”
“That’s a lot,” I said, my head swimming. “Uh . . . what’s the difference between a Count Palatine and a duke? Or a king?”
“You don’t get to wear a pointy hat,” he decided. “Practically speaking, that’s about it. But if you want to cobble together any other distinctive, non-pointy headgear, feel free. Counts Palatine have a lot of discretion with that sort of thing.”
My head was still swimming. New rights. New responsibilities. A whole new land to develop . . . a land where I had virtually no restrictions.
That was a heady feeling. I was being made king of a realm in all but name – my vassalage to Anguin and Rard were the only nominal responsibilities I had. Apart from that . . . I was free.
“You realize that you’re my vassal, now?” I asked Pentandra, a few moments later. “You and Arborn?”
“Of course I do,” she snorted, daintily. “Who do you think proposed the idea? If I have to have an overlord, you are better than some I could think of. And it is rare you get to pick your own liege. It was the absolute right thing to do,” she said, with utter assurance.
“I hope you’re right,” I sighed, doubtfully. “So . . . I take it I’m in charge of Vanador, then?”
“Don’t be silly – I’m in charge of Vanador,” she corrected. “We have over a hundred houses built now, and just in time – it’s started to snow pretty regularly. But you can be in charge of the Magelaw, and live in Vanador while you’re doing it,” she proposed.
“I suppose that works,” I agreed. “But as a count, am I not supposed to have a castle?”
“Yes. You are free to build one, at your discretion. On top of the Anvil,” she suggested. Strongly. “That would be the best place. Carmella has been itching to get started on it. She already has a crew surveying. As soon as she’s done with Vorone Castle, she’ll begin in earnest. It’s going to be gorgeous,” she added, with a smile. “I’ve seen her drawings.”
I looked at her skeptically. “It sounds as if you have been planning this for a long time,” I noted.
“I’ve been nursing non-stop for the last eight months. I’ve had a lot of time to think. And plot. And plan. Your welcome,” she added.
“Thanks,” I added, belatedly. “It does give me something to do, now that I’m exiled. And while you’re busy in Falas. I suppose it will be better for Alya, too. A few years in the Wilderlands, with fresh air and lax social customs, might be what she needs.”
“I think it’s what you need, too, Min,” she said, gently. “I know the war is heading into a new phase, and we have to fight it. But that doesn’t mean we can’t live a little, too. Make a good safe place for our kids to grow up in.”
“In a cute little hole in the ground like yours?” I teased.
“Oh, Antimei’s croft is comfy, if you don’t mind the dust,” she assured. “Even Mother had to admit that, after a while. Arborn likes it. But as soon as the ground thaws this spring Carmella’s crews will begin work on a real hall that we’ll build over the croft. A grand hall. Just down the street, a second crew will begin work on the Count’s Hall. A place for you and Alya and your household to live in. Until you get the castle built.”
“It sounds rustic. I like rustic.”
“It won’t be rustic for long,” she warned. “I have plans for Vanador – grand plans. It’s going to be a city, someday, Min. Hells, it already has a pretty big population. We just need the buildings and the infrastructure. We plan to do it based on the work you did in Sevendor. When we’re done, it will be amazing. A real City of the Magi, like Sevendor but on a grander scale.”
“It’s a lovely vision, Penny,” I agreed. “But will Korbal allow us to see it fulfilled?”
“Did Sheruel ‘allow’ us to fall in love, get married, and have children?” she countered. “No, he just made it a challenge. We managed to do it, anyway. We’ll manage to raise our little monsters in peace, as long as we can. That’s about the best we can hope for, right now.”
“You’re probably right,” I admitted, with a sigh. “Perhaps he’ll give us enough time to grow old and die, before he makes another move. He’s immortal – he doesn’t have any reason to hurry.”
“Exce
pt the one you gave him,” she reminded me. “He’s in a decomposing body, now. He’ll be desperate to fix that. That could be problematic.”
“If he comes after the Handmaiden, I’ll have Lady Falawen cut his ladylove’s undead nose off and send it to him,” I vowed. “She’s eager to do so, anyway, after she slew her father.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean he’ll try something else. We’re fighting a new kind of war, now, and one that might just give you the reprieve you desire. For a little while. Korbal just lost another dragon, a bunch of Nemovorti, and he’s got rebellious goblins in the north. He has problems. Hopefully enough to occupy him for long enough to get our children raised.”
“He’s still making moves,” I reminded her. “The undead plague is still spreading in the Westlands. He still controls the Penumbra, the Umbra, and the Land of Scars. He controls most of the swamps in Enultramar’s southwest.”
“I’m working on Caramas,” she insisted. “But I’ll bet you a Kasari peach cobbler that he makes a play for the Censors at Farise, now,” she predicted. “Korbal is not sending armies our way, not yet. I think we can contain the threat, at least for now. He’ll have to consolidate power, and that takes time – even for a powerful dark lord. We’ll use that time to continue to build our strength. Learn how to use that pretty green ball of yours, for instance, or the Snowflake. Stuff like that. By the time he’s ready to come after us again, we’ll be ready.”
“I hope you’re right,” I sighed. “I could use a few quiet years in the countryside. Away from politics, for a change. Someplace where I can really focus on magic and my family.”
“That’s the plan,” Pentandra agreed. “There are huge libraries of ancient texts stashed in Enultramar. The Tower of Sorcery alone is stocked with secrets on every shelf. You’ll have plenty of time for idleness, going through that alone.”
Necromancer: Book Ten Of The Spellmonger Series Page 119
