A Promise of Iron by Brandon McCoy (the reading list .txt) 📕

turning his attention to Crylwin. “You never know where loyalties lie.”

“And?” Crylwin replied. “He held his tongue, suffered your threats. What more does he need to prove?”

“I need to be able to trust him,” Monroe confessed.

“I trust him,” Crylwin said. “If I didn’t, he wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t know him as you do, my son.”

“Then trust me.”

Monroe turned from his desk and faced the grove of trees. He placed his hands behind his back and stretched his neck from side to side. “Faerin, stand with me.”

I hesitated at first then stepped to his side.

“What do you see?”

I followed his gaze. “Trees?”

Monroe turned to face me, his face weary and lined in a way I had never seen before. “I see the past,” he said. “I see these trees standing as they have for generations. I see strength. I see permanence.”

I turned my head. “Yes, my lord.”

Monroe clicked his teeth. “I have no patience for lackeys. Tell me what you see.”

I took a breath then looked again. I saw elder trees mixed with oak; tired vines stretched between them. I saw thick trunks and branches, both broken and sturdy. “I see roots—deep roots. I see their history. But I see no permanence other than the grace you have given them. These trees stand because you allowed them to stand—because you chose to protect them.”

Monroe placed his arm on my shoulder and squeezed. In his other hand, he held a small wooden box. He thumbed open the lid and handed it to me. I looked down. Inside was a large blue sapphire, raw and uncut, as unruly as blue flame.

“What… what is this?” I asked.

“The answer to your fucking problem, you half-wit Ruk bastard!” Crylwin shouted.

“But… but why?” I asked. “I’m just…”

“A Ruk?” Monroe said. “Exactly why it must be you.”

I stared at the stone—a lord stone, intended to rest at the end of Nahdril’s pommel. Monroe wrapped me in an embrace. When he released me, I felt him press the iron circle into my palm. It was cold to the touch. “Welcome to the family. Welcome to the Circle.”

Chapter Twenty and One

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

Crylwin stood in waiting behind Monroe. “Brother,” he whispered, holding my face in both his hands. “My Brother!”

To be a brother, to be a son, I had wished it for all the iron in the world. Those dreams warmed me on cold nights long ago. This was something different, something hollow, something false. Today all I felt was the cold. I took the stone in my hands and closed my fingers around it.

The lock turned, and the door pushed inward. Richard stepped in, escorting the court scribes into the room. They carried several leather-bound folios filled with all manner of documents. I was amazed at the speed and efficiency in which they laid out the papers. First was a formal declaration of lineage. Edwin Monroe would claim me as his son, a bastard still, but his bastard. This would further tarnish his reputation in the South, but in the North, as he so eloquently pointed out, it would bring hope to them all.

There were other documents, all requiring a signature and an Imperial witness, to which the scribes attested. The line of succession placed me as second, behind Crylwin. At the same time, the property lists entitled me to ventures of the family business I would now oversee. This included a logging mill, an abandoned copper mine, and a vineyard south of the river, which reportedly made a decent vintage of Roharan Red. The final piece was a small carpentry shop in the mercantile district of Forhd. A shop that may or may not contain an illegal basement forge.

As I moved to sign the final writ, I noticed something. “The ink on these contracts is dry, my lord.”

“Well, of course, it is,” Monroe replied. “They were drawn up last night.”

I crossed my arms once more.

“What is wrong, my son?” Monroe asked. “Is this not an equitable offer?”

“Son?” I questioned. “It’s a farce, Father. What if I refused?”

Monroe’s piercing glare returned in an instant. “That is your right, of course. But Nahdril shall become an heirloom of my house. I would, of course, compensate you for its discovery should it come to that. I had planned to make a sizeable contribution to purchase the blade directly from those that first discovered it. Sadly, they so eagerly sought the coin from the Sigil House that my agents weren’t able to make contact. Had I been aware of the resourcefulness of the lady Valerius I would have made a proper introduction.”

I couldn’t tell if that was a veiled threat, but at the mention of her name, the hair on my arms stood at attention.

“While one cannot fairly price a priceless artifact, should you decline my offer, I am prepared to grant you any three weapons from our family armory.”

“Join me, join us and keep your sword, or take your iron and forget you ever held truesilver in your hand?” I said.

“It is best to think of this as a choice, my son,” Monroe said, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Even if it feels like the choice has already been made.”

I breathed in slowly and nodded. Monroe patted my cheek then handed me a pen from the inkwell.

The documents were extensive; by the end of them, my hand cramped from the effort. Monroe had left nothing to chance, outlining documents in triplicate to be filed with the appropriate offices at the House tomorrow. Once complete, the scribes packed away all their papers, leaving only one page to affix to my writ book. At the top of the page, sealed beneath the blue wreath of House Monroe were the signatures of Lord Edwin Monroe and Lordson Crylwin Monroe. At the bottom was one line, my new name—Lordson Faerin Monroe.

Richard escorted the scribes out, returning moments later with a cart laden with dishes.

Many times I had been invited to the estate for dinner. These were large celebrations, birthings, Ventus,