Dishonour by Dee Carteri (simple e reader TXT) 📕

and noble river was whittled away as it forced its way through the jagged cracks of the windowless cabin until only a pathetic gurgle made it to the ears of the cabin’s occupants. Closing the door silently behind him, Maruc gazed around the room. Very little light made it into the room, and the few rays that were not sealed out cast leprous patches on the floor that made the cabin far more unnerving. A man in the complete darkness of a deep dungeon might give up all hope, atone for his sins and let his mind and spirit depart, even while the body is cruelly kept alive; but with a little light a man will clutch violently at life right up until the moment it is ripped from him.

A man slept lightly on the chipped wooden places, caked with blood and soaked in urine, that made up the floor of the cabin. His clothes were torn, bloodied and soiled, and his legs were swollen and, if Jaku’s men had any consistency in their work, probably broken. Jaku stepped towards him with a calculatingly amiable smile, and gently uttered, "Good afternoon, Beol."

Beol awoke immediately and threw himself to the side. He clawed desperately at the ground in an effort to drag his broken body away. Maruc never understood why they did that. Did they think they were safe from their captors on the other side of the room? He supposed that were Bethrazael to approach him, he would act similarly, that he would try something, anything, to get away. Maruc smiled inwardly. His captives respected him as much as the Traitor Lord of Hell Himself.

Jaku was then standing over this pathetic shell of a person, smirking. "Beol, why have you not paid me back?" he cooed.

Beol was openly crying, slobbering randomly as words spilled fluidly from his mouth, "I haven’t got it, no, lord, please, I haven’t, there’s none to be had, please, oh Gaia, oh lord, forgive me!" Jaku smiled at being referred to as a "lord," but quickly settled into a familiar scowl.

"Look at me when I speak to you," ordered Jaku firmly.

The man let out a low whimper and faced the ground, unable to face his demon.

Jaku was horrified at this insult to his omnipotence. "I said look at me, damn it!"

Beol just lay there, muttering an incomprehensible prayer to Gaia.

The angry Guildmaster grabbed the man by what little hair had yet to be pulled out, and yanked his head upwards. He flipped a knife out of his belt and promptly slashed Beol’s ear off. The captive fell in a torrent of blood.

"Look at me!" Jaku yelled madly.

Beol rose to his knees, both hands futilely struggling to stop the blood flowing out of the wound. He stared brokenly at his master. Maruc apathetically examined the gory mess that must once have been Beol’s face, at the broken nose and small, wet, pleading eyes.

Suddenly Maruc had to lean against the wall to not pass out. An inferno of memories burned through him. Blood spurting on the walls…smirking men with gruff voices…a cabin…this cabin? Maruc dashed to the far corner. There, old, rotting, but still clear as day, there a tiny finger had scratched a B. He remembered.

"I need to get some air," he said frantically to Jaku, and ran out of the cabin before a response could come. Maruc vomited violently at a nearby tree, struggling to pull himself together. His white knuckles gripped the hilt of his sword as he doubled over in horror.

It’s not true and you damned well know it! Jaku’s your friend, has always been your friend. Good Gaia, could it be true? Just go back into the cabin. Just get up and walk into the cabin. You can do this. Beol’s not like you. Beol’s an enemy, a thief who stole from your friend. Is he my friend? You can’t feel sorry for him, this isn’t the same as what they did to you. He’s just like them. He deserves this! This is business. It’s his fault for being in it, being a thief, being like them!

Maruc slowly rose, fighting to maintain his confidence. He reentered the hut. This is just business. It’s not like what happened. Just business.

Jaku was now wielding an iron rod he got from Gaia knows where. Beol now had several broken ribs, and was pale and faint from the loss of blood. "Please, lord, I’ll get you the money, I swear by Gaia, please!"

Jaku raised the rod for another blow, aimed squarely at the sobbing wretch’s head. Jaku had has his fun, and was about to end it. "You’d have more money if you had just killed that knight instead of bribing him," he said with contempt.

"Gaia would have punished me, he would have," the prisoner driveled.

Jaku spit. "Gaia would praise you for ending the life of a noble. I hate all knights and you thieves too! Enough!" He kicked Beol, knocking him over, and raised the bar again.

Beol looked up in hope and fear. "No, wait! You hate the knights! You… support Lakent?"

"Of course, Quickhand."

"Nesel tried to hire me for a mission, but I refused. I secret, a secret, military mission."

Maruc sprang towards him. "What is it?"

"First tell him to let me live, please?"

Jaku immediately said, "I swear by Gaia I’ll let you go if you tell."

Beol began. "Nesel wanted me to take some message to Lecoy. He said that I must not be found, that the letter talks of war, and if I should, If I.." Beol fainted from blood loss. Jaku and Maruc quickly bandaged his ear and woke him with water from the river.

Maruc asked, "If you refused the letter, then who is taking it and when?"

Beol looked up weakly. "Some baron, tonight around midnight. On the West road. I swear that’s all I know, just let me go now, please, lords."

Jaku was genuinely grateful. "Not only will I not kill you, I’ll give you a six month extension on your debt. You may have helped us much."

"You are merciful, lord."

As Jaku left through the door, he noted casually, as one would remark on the weather. "Till then, I’m placing your wife and daughter under house arrest. They hope that you will come up with the payment even more than I do, I can assure you. My men will come soon and help you get to a temple to heal those wounds."

As they walked back to Whiterift, Maruc asked, "What did he owe you?

"Four pounds of pepper, after he lost part of a shipment of mine I was smuggling two years back." Jaku insisted for all his clients to pay in pepper, as it was impossible to fake. Four pounds roughly corresponded to two and one fourth pounds of silver, a trifle when compared to Jaku’s vast wealth. Still, if everyone cheated him out of two and a fourth pounds, his business would fall apart. Sometimes, one had to make an example.

"What were you smuggling? Wood?" asked Maruc.

"Wyvern eggs."

Maruc backed away from Jaku, stunned.

"There’s a lot more to running a carpenter’s guild than you might think, my friend. A lot more."

Maruc did not bring up the cabin, knowing that a fight so close to town would attract some attention. Besides, he would have plenty of time that night when they would try to intercept that letter.

Esquire Maruc, Jaku, Guillame, and Lakent sat in the small aft chamber of Maruc’s Whiterift manor. It was a small room, used for after-dinner conversation with the various gentle-men and women Maruc had visit him occasionally. He rarely entertained non-nobles (with the exception of very wealthy merchants), not wishing to mingle with commoners more than necessary. To the door to the left was Maruc’s library, which he boasted was the largest in the entire Marquisdom, with the exception of the Great Library beneath the Angelos Temple, built and stocked by the Antone Knights in ages long past. Literally hundreds of books, a baron’s ransom, were stacked in neat shelves surrounding three writing desks. Maruc had even hired two personal scribes to reproduce borrowed writings and help him interpret the more obscure parts of some tomes. He lived alone with what servants he needed, although more often than not he was on the road overseeing his holdings. The manor served as nothing more than a place he could call home, where he could look forward to retiring to when his latest journey was completed.

"Nesel seems rather hotheaded," said Guillame, staring into the fire that lit the small room.

Jaku shrugged, "His personality is well liked by the knighthood. Even with hundreds of similar diplomatic blunders, I doubt his political standing will be strongly affected. Everyone already knows where they stand, and no amount of Nesel’s sniveling insults will change that."

Lakent asked, worried, "So civil war is inevitable?"

"You are afraid?" asked Maruc with a hint of intrigue. He loved to know what people fear, what they hate. He loved to get under their skin, make them fear the echo of their footsteps, make them hate him with all their hearts, yet live their lives fearing him, subconsciously controlled by him.

"I will not trade one war for another, not for anything."

Guillame grabbed Lakent’s shoulder. "This isn’t entirely about the war, my friend. The knights have trod us underfoot for long enough. Never, not once in twelve hundred years, has a commoner become king. It is time we strike back and take what is ours."

Maruc, of course, knew the truth. Guillame was in this to manipulate Lakent. He didn’t care whether or not there was a war, or the peasantry were oppressed, or any other ideological nonsense. Guillame wanted power. He wanted to be king, or at the very least be served by one.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jaku. "Bolare, there will really be no war to speak of. The Free Companies will soon arrive to take the north, and Elmwood’s forces can crush Whiterift. The war will be won before the knights in the West can come to Nesel’s aid."

"You brought the Blue Mercenaries into this? Do you want a war?"

"My friend, we only wish to prepare for the worst. The knights may turn violent if backed into a political corner."

Lakent looked incredulously at the three. "Are you any better? Already you abandon the hope of a peaceful end to this matter."

Jaku said, "Don’t be a damn fool, Lakent. You knew the stakes of this the moment you agreed to bid for succession. But you knew we had to strike back at the knights, take back what’s ours. I know you still believe that. We will be masters of our homes, even at the cost of our blood."

"Our blood? I doubt your houses will shed a drop in any struggle. It is the people that will take the blow!"

"Please, friend, calm yourself. We have spent a great deal more effort than you care to give us credit for. Even now, William and Andir are abroad gathering support. Already men are marching in the countryside under the Bolare crest. Please, go home and consider this. All will be made clear in time, I assure you." Maruc stood, adjusted his ever-present sword, and motioned towards the door. "Gaia’s Love, gentlemen."

Lakent left, stubbornly noting as he left, "I will not trade one war for another walked to his temporary home, a large guest house inside Whiterift castle,