by R. T. Kaelin
Zecus drew in a sharp breath and hissed, “Bless the Gods.”
The intensity of his friend’s reaction caused Jak to turn and stare at Zecus. The young man’s eyes were as wide as gold ducats and locked on the men walking across the marble floor below.
Alarmed, Jak whispered, “Zecus? What’s—”
A strong hand tightly gripped his right leg, causing Jak to wince sharply and halt his question. Looking down to his right knee, he found Sergeant Trell’s white-knuckled left hand grasping him. He glanced up to the sergeant’s face and found the soldier’s intense gaze on his face. He gave a quick, sharp shake of his head and spoke in a low, hushed tone.
“Let things play out. Remain quiet.”
Lady Vivienne was staring hard at him as well, her sharp green eyes silently pleading he comply. Had the baroness alone asked, Jak would have demanded to know what was going on right now. Yet as the request had come from Sergeant Trell, he swallowed his question and nodded.
Sergeant Trell released his leg and Jak stole a quick look back at Zecus. His friend was still staring wide-eyed at the pair of Borderlanders on the chamber floor. Frowning, Jak looked down as well.
The men stopped twenty paces from the council table and waited in silence. The thin man appeared calm and relaxed considering the situation while the larger man was actively bouncing on the balls of feet.
Duke Kyle leaned forward and called, “Please state your names for the record, citizens.”
The taller man bowed slightly, and said, “My name is Joshmuel Alsher and he is Boah Rasus. We are of the village Drysa. My pleasure is to meet you in peace today, great Lord.”
Now Jak’s eyes went wide. He whipped his head to his left to gape at an unresponsive Zecus.
“That’s your—”
Again, Jak felt Sergeant Trell’s hand grip his leg, thrice as strong this time. Jak winced and shut his mouth. The sergeant wanted him to remain quiet.
Turning to stare at the soldier, Jak tried to make sense of things. If Lady Vivienne had been the one to postpone this petition, she had known about Joshmuel for well over a full turn. And if Lady Vivienne knew, then so did Broedi, as did Sergeant Trell.
Jak’s eyes narrowed as he glared to his right. Sergeant Trell should have told them that Zecus’ own father had been sitting in Freehaven for a full turn.
Sergeant Trell stared back, an expression of true regret on his face. He even appeared slightly ashamed. Jak shook his head and gave a disappointed sigh. He was getting tired of all the secrets everyone around him was keeping.
Duke Kyle called out, “And for the record, as well as the benefit of those that were not here last turn, Joshmuel Alsher of Drysa, can you please restate your petition for the council?”
Joshmuel bowed, saying, “Yes, great Lord.” He took a breath, composing himself, and then began speaking, his voice loud, clear, and touched with the same strange accent that Zecus himself exhibited.
“For generations upon generations, we on the western edge of the Borderlands have lived with the constant threat that oligurts, mongrels, and razorfiends might raid our lands and homes. Years would pass without any sign of the Sudashians, but eventually some chieftain or pack leader would crave glory and conquest and raid the duchy. Villages burned, people died, and the duke would respond, sending the Dust Men forth to repel the invaders.”
From the measured and deliberate way he spoke, it was apparent this was a rehearsed speech.
“Our ancestors would honor the dead by rebuilding the villages, refusing to allow the tribes of Sudash to chase us from our lands. Of course, the raiders would come again. So, we would rebuild. And the raiders would come again. Such is the life of a Borderlander.”
Joshmuel paused and drew a long breath.
“A year ago, however, the cycle changed. Men, women, and families who lived closer to the border than we—” he indicated himself and Boah “—began to come east. Raiders had come again. Only now, there were thousands of oligurts, mongrels, razorfiends, and even men all banded together. They fought as one.” He paused and eyed the table of nobles. “My Lords and Ladies, such cooperation is unheard of. Sudashian infighting has been the one thing that has kept us in the west safe. If the fell races unite, the Borderlands fall.”
Jak pulled his eyes away from Joshmuel and glanced at Lord Tilas, the Borderlands’ representative. The man sat as still as a carved marble statue.
Joshmuel continued his tale, saying clearly, “There has been almost no pushback from our soldiers. The Dust Men are absent. People have been left to defend their homes without the help of the duke’s army. Chaos rules the west.”
Jak bit his lip. Joshmuel’s choice of words was more accurate than he knew.
“So, great Lords and Ladies, Boah and I traveled to Freehaven, hoping to petition the First Council to lend aid to the Borderlands.” He paused again, spared a quick glance at his compatriot—who nodded firmly—and then added, somewhat reluctantly, “In addition to our previous request, we now also ask the council to seek answers to the poor response by the Dust Men.” Joshmuel bowed at the waist. “That is all, great Lord.”
Joshmuel’s last word had barely tumbled from his lips when the Borderlands’ baron sat forward, looked in Duke Kyle’s direction, and asked, “My Lord, may I speak?” After a curt nod from the duke, Lord Tilas shifted his gaze on the pair of men before the council.
“As I said last turn when these…men—” the word was said with an audible sneer “—came before us, I have no idea about what they speak. There are no ‘invaders’ from Sudash marching through the Borderlands. I again contend that these men are mad.”
The baron’s words stunned Jak. Shooting a questioning look to his left, Jak found Zecus equally astonished, if not more so. Zecus had seen the invasion firsthand, having been captured by oligurts and razorfiends deep within Borderland territory.
From beneath the green and white banner of the Marshlands, Duke Rholeb spoke up.
“Baron Tilas, I respectfully disagree with your ‘assessment’ of the situation.”
While the duke’s tone was polite on its surface, an undercurrent of strained fury bubbled beneath it.
Turning to face the Marshlands’ sovereign, Lord Tilas said, “I’m sorry you feel as such, my Lord, but I would know the affairs of the Borderlands infinitely better than you, would I not? I assure you, there is no danger from Sudash.”
The baron’s disrespectful tone prompted a low, whispered buzz to ripple through the balcony.
Glaring at Lord Tilas, Duke Rholeb growled, “I have nineteen thousand Borderlands’ refugees sitting outside of my capital, begging for food, that say otherwise, Tilas!”
Lord Tilas sat back in his chair and said with brazen smugness, “Might they not be your own citizens? Perhaps they finally gave up trying to survive in that swampland you call a duchy and have decided to simply beg for handouts instead.”
The blatant, open affront triggered more mumbles of disapproval amongst the crowd. Jak knew little about expected etiquette between nobles, but he was quite confident that it was bad form for a baron to insult one of the ten sovereigns publicly.
Duke Rholeb brought his left hand down hard atop the wooden table, sending a sharp crack that echoed through the chamber.
“Blast you, Tilas! What in the Nine Hells is going on?!”
“Gentlemen!” exclaimed Duke Kyle. “Please! Try to keep a sense of decorum here!”
Duke Rholeb continued to stare daggers at a grinning, haughty Lord Tilas.
After a moment, Duke Kyle turned to the Marshlander and said, “Now, Rholeb—if Lord Tilas says there is no trouble, we are honor-bound to believe him. He is Duke Vanson’s representative and speaks for him.”
With an upraised hand, the Great Lakes member of the council, Lord Treswell, said timidly, “My Lord, if I may add something?”
Jak was especially curious to hear what Duke Everett’s representative had to say.
Once Duke Kyle nodded, Lord Treswell said,
“Might I point out that were there any such invasion, Duke Vanson would have surely requested aid of Duke Everett. However, to date, no such requests have been made.”
Jak frowned. The baron had spent more care wording his statement than a one-eyed, half-blind woman would threading a needle.
The soft, melodic voice of Duchess Aleece suddenly cut through chamber.
“I agree with Lord Treswell.”
Noticeably wary, Lord Treswell nodded his head, appearing surprised to have elicited the agreement of the duchess. Lord Tilas nodded as well, staring at the duchess as if he were a hunter wandering the woods, trying to remember where he had placed his own snare.
After a moment, Lord Tilas said, “You do, my Lady?”
The duchess nodded, saying, “Oh, yes. Quite so. Everett could never answer a request for aid if none were sent forth.” Her tone shifted, turning harder suddenly. “Which I can only conclude means Vanson has sent none.” Turning to stare directly at Lord Tilas, Duchess Aleece said pointedly, “Tell me something, Tilas. Why has Vanson not replied to any of the messages sent to him by Rholeb or me? We’ve been more than polite in our requests for clarification regarding the refugees.”
Jak sensed a trap being set.
Turning her stare on Joshmuel and Boah, the duchess added, “Also, it puzzles me why two Borderlanders would travel so far to beg for help if none were needed. You claim they are mad, Tilas. I think they look perfectly sound. Which means—if we are to believe your words—that they are lying.”
Lord Tilas shook his head vigorously, saying, “Lying or mad, my Lady, what difference—”
Swiveling her head, the duchess glared hard at the Borderlands baron.
“I was not finished speaking, Tilas!”
Lord Tilas closed his mouth, his eyebrows drawing together.
Duchess Aleece held her gaze on the baron, daring the man to respond. When he wisely remained quiet, she turned away, sweeping her gaze around the entire balcony. Jak had the sudden impression he was watching a playman’s show. Whatever was happening here was as much for the observers as it was for the council.
The duchess, her eyes scanning the room, called, “Ample evidence of a mass exodus from the Borderlands abounds despite Lord Tilas’ feckless denials! What could possibly cause so many people flee their homes?!” Pausing for effect, she sat forward, rested her elbows on the table, and asked, “A better question, yet, is why Lord Tilas would make claims that seem utterly contrary to the truth?”
Her words caused another uproar amongst the crowded gallery, louder this time. Duke Kyle began to shout through the din, trying to quiet the chamber.
As the crowd buzzed, Jak turned to Sergeant Trell and muttered, “What is going on?”
“It would seem the duchess is within a thread of charging Lord Tilas of lying.” Gesturing around the balcony, he said, “Based on their reaction, it would seem that is a rather serious accusation.”
Leaning forward, Zecus said vehemently, “But he is lying! I saw the oligurts and razorfiends there myself!” The passion in Zecus’ tone startled Jak. The Borderlander was normally a quiet, reserved man.
Sergeant Trell nodded and fixed a hard glare on Zecus.
“Yes, but nobody here knows what you saw. As it stands, it’s the word of two simple petitioners against a baron.”
Jak thought Sergeant Trell’s formal acknowledgement of Zecus’ father to be odd. The soldier certainly knew who Joshmuel was.
Duke Kyle, after demanding silence for a full minute, finally achieved it by threatening to clear the balcony. As none in attendance wanted to miss whatever might happen next, they quickly quieted. A scowl on his face, the duke swiveled his substantial girth about his chair to face the Southlands’ duchess. The overweight man’s forehead had a light sheen on it.
“Aleece, might you wish to withdraw your words? It sounded as if you were claiming that a member of this council is intentionally deceiving us.”
Duchess Aleece gave a polite inclination of her head and said, “I am quite sorry, Kyle. I should have been clearer with my words.”
The duke relaxed some, evidently anticipating an apology. Jak had the feeling he was not going to hear one.
The duchess leaned forward, eyed the balcony again, and said in a raised voice, “I did not mean to insinuate that Lord Tilas is lying. Rather, I am stating with absolute conviction that he is!” Glaring down the table, she added, “Along with Lord Treswell!”
The Great Lakes’ baron sat straighter, shooting a worried glance at Lord Tilas. The crowd’s whispers and murmurings forced Duchess Aleece to raise her voice.
“Moreover, I have cause to believe they are both acting under direct orders of Vanson and Everett!”
The spectators in the balcony began to cry out, prompting Duke Kyle to pound on the table, again demanding silence. As the nobleman shouted for quiet, Jak carefully watched the council table. The two Barons from the Great Lakes and Borderlands shared multiple, quick glances. Jak thought they looked guilty. A quick sequence glance—pleased and content—shot between Duke Rholeb and Duchess Aleece.
Jak’s eyebrows drew together. Peering around the gallery of spectators, he muttered with quiet wonder, “They planned this…” He looked to Sergeant Trell. “This was all a show, wasn’t it?”
The soldier leaned over and said softly, “Theatre and politics are two sides of the same ducat, Jak.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Try to remain silent for a little while longer. I think I finally understand what Lady Vivienne has planned.”
Jak stole a quick look at the baroness. She was staring past him, straight at Zecus, a cold, calculating glint in her eyes. It took all of Jak’s confidence in the sergeant to reluctantly mutter, “Fine.”
This time, Duke Kyle needed twice as long to quiet the crowd. Once he did, he bellowed, “Might I remind all of you that you are here at the pleasure of the council? I will not tolerate such outbursts from anyone, regardless of stature or class! If it happens again, I shall order the balcony purged!” Pausing to let his instructions sink in, he turned to face a very calm Duchess Aleece and said, “The accusations you have leveled, my Lady, are beyond severe. I pray to Tirnu you can substantiate them.”
Before she could answer Duke Kyle’s question, Duchess Adnil of the Long Coast interrupted.
“Pardon, Kyle. But I would like to give Lords Tilas and Treswell an opportunity to respond first. Before we hear of evidence, should any exist.”
Duke Kyle hesitated briefly before saying, “Fine.” He set his gaze to the pair of barons. ”Have you anything to say in response to the duchess’s statement?”
Chairs creaked as every council member twisted in their seats and stared at the two barons. Every pair of eyes in the balcony also shifted to the men.
After a few tense, deathly-silent moments, Lord Tilas stood from his chair. Staring directly at Duchess Aleece, he said in a voice dripping with acid, “With all respect due to you, my Lady, I assert your accusation is wholly without cause.” He peered down at Lord Treswell expectantly.
The baron of the Great Lakes glanced up to meet his stare, frowned, and offered weakly, “I stand with Lord Tilas, my Lady.” He looked as if he might get ill. “Your words are without merit…”
With a firm nod, Lord Tilas pulled his gaze from the baron and stared up to the balcony, exclaiming, “Duke Vanson is an honorable man! He will be both saddened and offended by your statement, Duchess Aleece.” He stared hard at the noblewoman. “You understand it is my duty to inform him of what has transpired here.”
Duchess Aleece nodded, saying calmly, “Oh, I was hoping you would. Please, tell him exactly what I said, Tilas. Word for word. In fact, if you like, I can have a scribe write them down for you if you do not trust your memory.”
Lord Tilas stood straight as a rod, glowering hard at the duchess as she pressed on, a hard edge to her voice.
“As you will be corresponding with Vanson, might I ask a favor of you? Since the man will not respond to me or
Rholeb, add the following question to your missive: ‘What were you promised?’”
Lord Tilas stiffened but remained silent.
Lady Jonda, the elderly baroness of Yar, leaned forward and asked, “Pardon me, my Lady, but what do you mean by that?”
Duchess Aleece raised her eyes to the crowd, paused for effect, and then called, “If one of the ten sovereigns has betrayed us all to conspire with Sudash, I would simply like to know what was promised in return!”
A hushed gasp rippled through the balcony, but was quickly cut off after a sharp glare from Duke Kyle. Jak was in awe of the duchess. She was fearless. Or mad.
Finally finding his voice, Lord Tilas shouted, “How dare you! Being duchess does not give you the right to impugn the honor of my liege! You have yet put forth any evidence of this supposed treachery. It is Duke Rholeb’s word against mine and that of Baron Treswell. And I swear upon the Gods and Goddesses themselves, there is nothing to fear in the Borderlands!” Pointing a finger at the duke of the Marshlands, a near-unhinged Lord Tilas shouted, “I ask Duke Rholeb for proof of his claims! I am wondering if he perhaps mistook a trade caravan for his perceived ‘nineteen thousand refugees’ in Demetus! Perhaps the duke is growing addled in his old age?”
Jak’s eyes widened.
“Oh, my…”
Duke Rholeb sat straight, his face turning bright red. Jak expected him to leap up and punch the baron, but after a moment—and a few harsh, direct glares from Duchesses Aleece and Adnil—he crossed his arms and remained seated.
Looking over at Sergeant Trell, Jak asked in a whisper, “All three are in on this, yes?”
Sergeant Trell replied softly, “Good eyes, Jak.”
“Quiet!” hissed Lady Vivienne. “Both of you!”
Frowning, Jak eyed the noblewoman and was surprised to find that she was not looking at him or the sergeant, but rather staring in Zecus’ direction, a tiny, content smile resting over her lips. Confused, Jak turned to his friend. The man was seething, his eyes burning, his hands clasped into fists, his lips pressed so tight they were white.
