Dishonour by Dee Carteri (simple e reader TXT) 📕

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Maceol sighed in complete resignation. "Whatever."

"And I’ll need someone to help me. Any suggestions?"

"Rodul, I’m on leave," complained Daken as he sipped his beer.

"Do it as a personal favor to me," requested Rodul.

Daken answered, "Sorry, but I’d rather be kind to my wife than to you."

Rodul thought, why does Maceol always have it easy? Daken leaned back in his chair, seemingly settled for a long negotiation.

Rodul said "Daken, you’re helping me or I’m taking you out of the Fist of Octania and putting you in charge of a company guarding a Castlen fruit storehouse."

Daken stared at Rodul. Rodul stared back.

"Fine. When are we briefed?" asked Daken sadly.

Taki hit the ground with a shuddering groan.

"Taki, this isn’t knife-fighting," sighed Baren, a thirty-something Armsbearer assigned to training him in the art of broadsword-fighting. "Can’t you see that speed is irrelevant? You force yourself to hastily struck blows, but are easily struck down by a more skilled opponent. Aim, my boy, strength, balance and strategy are key in a broadsword duel. For instance," he handed Taki a two-foot cane meant to simulate a machete of the type used by Sybürmian soldiers. "Now let’s say you come at me, depending on a hasty rain of blows to wear down and slay me." Taki moved and threw a blow to Baren’s upper chest, who deflected it solidly, sending Taki reeling backwards. "Hold! No matter your agility, the first strike will always by stopped by a man of any noticeable skill. Now look at your position." Taki, knocked back by the counter, stood with his cane held behind and below his waist, on par with the tip of Baren’s sword that was held expertly at the end of the swordmaster’s follow-through. "Now watch close ly." He brought the practice sword up in a strike aimed at Taki’s stomach. Taki quickly countered by moving his sword arm upwards and left, but his elbow was turned upwards so that the entire force of the blow had to be taken by the wrist, as he had learned the weakest joint in a swordfighter’s arm. Baren’s sword was knocked away from the solar plexus, but was not fully stopped due to the lack of force in the parry. Taki’s sword was hopelessly askew, his entire upper body was bent over backwards, and Baren’s sword was an inch from his neck. "You see? This is not some barroom brawl. This is how true soldiers fight. Let’s try this again, but place your blows well and slowly. Think, don’t feel, and for Gaia’s sake let at least a second pass between your blows."

They fought for several hours, during which time Taki became very well acquainted with the packed dirt ground of the courtyard. Other Armsbearers as well as common men-at-arms of the household came and went to train in the courtyard. An hour or so after noon, Baren finally said, "That’s enough for today, Cooking-Knife. Be here at daybreak again tomorrow for further training."

"Again? So much, so soon?"

"Taki, how much time have you spent practicing with the longbow?"

"About six hours every Rest Day since I was six."

"And you expect less of swordsmanship? We hope to have you trained in less than a year, Cooking-Knife."

After Baren left, Taki walked idly through the halls of Lakent’s house in a vague search for the kitchen. He determined that, this day, there were roughly eleven Armsbearers and at least two dozen men-at-arms guarding the household, almost twice as many as the night before. Rumor had it that as many as forty more soldiers were coming down from the Bolare headquarters in the western highlands.

He found the kitchen, in which a short kitchenmaster, irate to the point of incomprehensibility, had apparently just been told of the coming feast declared the night before. Taki stepped deftly around a cook who successfully ducked out to freedom from his master’s ramblings.

Really not wishing to disturb the cooks by humbly requesting a bite to eat, he crouched around the room until he found a slightly stale loaf of bread, poured himself a cold cup of tea and crept outside to the eating area on the east side of the courtyard. He sat upon a wooden chair and admired the house around him, which, by far, was the most lavish building he had ever had the honor of being in. It was a massive building, with two stories of rooms wrapped around a sunny courtyard forty yards across at a side. It was a strange thing to use a structure that could pass for a moderately-sized inn was itself simply guest quarters of Whiterift Castle.

Taki finished his improvised lunch looking about his new workplace, wondering feverishly what he had gotten himself in to.

Jaku, Maruc, and Guillame sat in the corner of a prominent restaurant, skillfully choosing a boot far away from the other occupied tables, waiting patiently for their ordered luncheon to arrive. In Octania and Sybürmia this was the main meal of the day, in opposition to the Westerlands’ custom of eating three hours after noon. Both were a far cry from Jirith, where craftsmen and farmers alike ate as late as seven hours after midday.

Guillame asked quietly, "So, what does Nesel have to say to Grand Duke Challey and Prime Archon Yessin?"

"Read it yourself," said Maruc as he handed Guillame the letters.

The letters read:

To Grand Duke Challey of Lecoy:

You surely have heard of the disturbing state of affairs that our kingdom now suffers under, though I doubt that you truly understand how quickly the situation is escalating. As I write, numerous bands of insubordinate peasants, some several hundreds large, are marching in the countryside under the banner of Lakent Bolare. You, once the Marshall of the Flaming Cavalry, must understand the necessity of remaining in the war. I fear we soon may have no choice but to withdraw forces from the West to combat this new evil. In the worst possible scenario, I will lose the right to succession and Octania will be wholly removed from the war. However, I believe there to be hope if we strike hard and fast at the Bolare clan headquarters in the highlands of Rikalia. However, myself and the other Dukes are paralyzed until the Council ends. I implore you to send any available soldiers through Blackmoor to capture Rikalia the moment negotiations break down. I would like to remind you that you are indeed part of Octania, a nd not just an allied kingdom, as many of your people would have it. After this is settled, all Dukes who remain neutral or side with Lakent will be punished for insubordination. I hope you make the right choice.

Lord Nesel Trunam, Baron of Hyle

Guillame put down the letter. "A little severe, isn’t he?"

"He should be," said Jaku. "Listen to his ‘letter’ to Prime Archon Yessin of Jirith. Two sentences: ‘You are to immediately pledge all of your home guard to our cause or pay double tribute. Respond by the end of December or face the consequences.’ You’d think he owned the country."

Maruc noted. "He more or less does. However, I think that Yessin will realize that Nesel cannot afford to send any soldiers or ships to punish him if he disagrees."

They began to talk eagerly about upcoming festivals as a serving-girl approached and asked for drink orders.

Maruc asked in a polite manner not really befitting a man of substance referring to a servant, and a female servant at that. "I’m terribly sorry to give you trouble, but do you have any chocolate?"

The girl thought for a moment, than stated, "Yes, actually. A new barrel just came in from Sybürmia."

"I’ll take some, then. Light on the milk but heavy on the spices, please." The servant blushed slightly at having the request of such a notable person, then bowed and turned to Jaku, who ordered the house paign, which, according to his well-attuned palate, was one of the best honey-wines in the province.

Before she even asked, Guillame curtly said, "Brandy."

She bowed and turned to leave, but Maruc politely asked, "I apologize for imposing, but could you ensure that no-one comes near our table? We may be discussing sensitive matters of business, and we would appreciate some privacy."

She responded, "Actually, we have a room in the back that you gentlemen can use, if you prefer."

He thanked her as she showed them through a non-descript door into a large conference room, where they took their seats. The servant left to place their orders.

As the door closed, Jaku exclaimed, scandalized, "What the hell was that about? I thought nobles prided themselves on being respectable people, not womanizing scoundrels with no respect for social custom!"

"Oh, calm down, Jaku. Do you really think she would have shown us this room if we just asked outright? Sometimes you need to be flexible in order to get what you want."

As Jaku opened his mouth, Guillame cut him off with, "The important thing is that we got the room. If Maruc wants to lower himself to the point of indecency, it’s his choice. So back to business. Do we publish the letters? Discredit Nesel?"

"If we did, he would trace it back to us and hunt us down like dogs," responded Jaku.

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of the servant carrying their drinks. She set them down, bowed quickly, and departed. Maruc picked up his chocolate and sipped it, feely the frothy spicy fluid burn down his throat. There was some strange outlandish spice in it, almost like the cayenne found in the southern isles, but not quite. Maruc made a mental note to look into it as a possible investment opportunity.

Guillame said, "Nesel will get a message past us, sooner or later. We should send word to Rikalia to prepare for a northern assault."

"Agreed. I know a trusted man who can get out of the city unnoticed. I’ll have him take it." Said Maruc.

Guillame rose. "I have to get back to the Guild Hall. Apparently the knights have taken several of the masons working at the quarry in for interrogation, and the whole Guild is up in arms."

"The knights are leading the investigation?"

"Apparently so," responded Guillame.

He left them to their worries. As soon as he left, Maruc immediately asked, "Show me the document."

"Hmm?" grunted a startled Jaku as he swilled his paign around his cup.

"The document you promised. The one that says who you bought that cabin for."

Jaku took a rolled piece of parchment from his pocket, and handed it to Maruc. The top of it read:

This deed is proof that the former property of Frilo Miller and Jae Miller shall hereafter belong , wholly within the law, to Guildmaster Jaku of the 1st Carpenter’s Guild of Octania. This occurred on July 19th in the twelve hundred and fifty-ninth year after Revelation.

The sale of a residence was quite an uncommon occurrence, with most homes being passed on to the next of kin when its former residents became deceased. On the rare occasion that a building was bought, the customer usually had the courts draw up such a document to prevent friends of the former residents from mistaking the new owners for thieves or brigands. At the bottom of the scroll was the Sheriff’s signature.

"Millers.".

"Yes."

Maruc said, "What luck! Next time we run into William, we can just ask to see his books and find out where